#[ my new year's resolution is to become more unhinged. so ]

[etruatcaelum]

mumbles.

[shadowthestoryteller]

So as I'm messing around with the little TF2 side series I got going on behind the scenes (which takes place after the RE8 crossover) I realized I could make this meme for Shadow

It still amazes me that a series that was meant to be a fun little adventure with the OG Bad Batch 5 months after Kamino as turned into a massive 4-fandom mashup filled with chaos and honestly?

I wouldn't have it any other way.

[inkdrinkerworld]

throwing up bc i can’t stop thinking about dealer!remus and r high and spending new years together bc they just want it to be them two and them being each others new years kiss and using that as a way to make a move on each other bc they were too scared to do anything before pleaSe sedate me

No because why didn’t I have a dealer!remus to kiss me breathless for the new year??!

There’s a frog in your throat. There usually isn’t when you’re alone, but there always seems to be a lump in your throat when you’re with Remus that no amount of affection for him will lessen.

In fact, it seems that the more affection you harbor for him the bigger the lump grows.

You’re sitting on his sofa, in a sparkly New Year’s Eve midi dress and tall socks that are hidden under a fleece blanket.

Remus is in dark slacks and a white shirt- both outfits remnants of the party you’d both escaped from.

“Sure you don’t want a sweater, dove?” Remus asked as he’d undid his tie and honestly, a sweater would’ve been so much worse than suffering in your sequin dress that’s scratching the sliver of skin exposed of your thighs.

“The blanket’s fine, Remmy,” you’d promised, mostly because the idea of being in a sweater that smelled exactly like Remus- a little like his detergent, his citrus and pepper perfume and weed, would’ve made you even more of a mess.

Currently, you’ve got a blunt hanging from your lips, content to have the smoke billow from your mouth and around your head.

Remus is halfway done with his own, watching you mostly as he lets the last bit of the weed burn out.

“There’s something wrong with my hands, Remus.” You say, and he supposes that there should be more urgency in your words, but you get this even softer, mushy quality about you when you’re high that makes every thought seem like nothing.

“What’s wrong with them?” He asks, turning his body so he’s facing you. Your knees knock as you turn to him too.

“Can’t move them,” the blunt almost falls from your lips, and truly your arms feel like lead. Remus catches it before it falls, holding it close to your mouth in case you still want a pull. “Thanks.”

You’re always earnest and shy, but it only seems to become that much more endearing when you smoke, and Remus finds he loves it even more.

The way every word sound wistful, the way your eyes blink up at him slowly like you’re trying to stare at him for as long as possible.

“You’re really pretty, Remus. Which is strange for men,” you say it thoughtfully, like you’ve been thinking it forever.

You’re not sure why you can’t stop talking, or ally you’ve a lot less words to use; but tonight it seems resolutions have come earlier.

“Yeah?” Remus smiles as you nod and take a drag before exhaling.

“Yeah, and your lips, they’re so pretty.” If your hands were working you’d probably reach out to touch the thin scar that slices through his lip, but right now you can’t and maybe it’s a blessing.

Unconsciously, you lean into Remus some more, your thigh covering his knee.

“You’ve got a better pair, pretty girl.” Remus insists and your eyes widen. It’s funny that you seem to find the compliment unhinged.

The distance closes some more.

“Yeah?”

Suddenly, you and Remus are almost lip to lip, noses brushing.

“Yes, dovey,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours and before he can even ask, you close the distance.

The kiss is shy, an experimental press and then you pull back. Remus doesn’t let you get far and sets the blunt into the ashtray before grabbing the back of your neck to pull you back to him.

It’s a kiss not like what you’d expected; Remus tastes like weed, but there’s something else and it fogs your head even more than the high grade you’d just been smoking.

The kiss is slow but deep, a dance Remus leads with ease. His fingers tangle in your hair to keep you in place and yours finally seem to work again and climb the back of his shirt.

“Happy New Year, dove.” He pulls away and is almost as breathless as you are, the light of the fireworks being set off brightening the window behind you.

“Happy New Year, Rem,” you hide your face in his chest when you catch your breath and Remus chuckles. “Dunno why you’re laughing. Can’t kiss a girl like that and not expect her to get flustered.”

That only makes him laugh even more. Remus’ hands rub down your back.

“You’d get flustered if I only looked at you baby, let’s not pretend.”

[leaping-ocelots]

On second thought, it feels like my New Year's Resolution should have been "to become fucking unhinged." Because it feels like being unhinged is the best way to be creative and passionate and interesting and ACTUALLY HAVE THINGS TO FUCKING CONTRIBUTE. What I am just isn't enough.

And before you be like, "But commenting on fics and reblogging art and providing support is a good thing to offer!"...stop. I want to create. I want to be interesting and creative. I am so much more than just a mere support role and I don't want to be trapped in that role for the rest of my fucking life.

[gumpistol]

GET TO KNOW YOUR ADMIN !!

name — lala! (or luka, we're trying this one out)

pronouns — they/them

preferred comms — definitely discord, i have a thing where if i open a message and don't immediately respond in tumblr dms, i tend to forget about it. it's the adhd "out of sight out of mind" thing. but on discord i can mark things as unread and then everybody from all my blogs is one place too.

name of muse — his name is monkey d. luffy, and he's going to become king of the pirates!!!

experience in RP — oh geez, like 10+ years? surprisingly mostly on tumblr, but before this blog i was taking a break and exclusively on discord for ~2 years

best experiences — honestly? the best experience i've had so far has actually been the OP rp community. i've been in a lot of fandoms, but i've never felt so completely welcomed as a new writer in the fandom. the dash commentary shenanigans and the willingness to just drop into inboxes on a whim with unprompted stuff is honestly a lot of fun! i'm really happy this is the community experience i get to have on my return to tumblr

pet peeves / dealbreakers — i have 2 big ones: (1) guilt tripping me into replies or worse, ships. this is the easiest way to piss me off and will likely end up in the exact opposite of what the person wants happening. (2) genderbent characters; it's almost 2024 so i'm baffled i have to say this, but if you don't know why these depictions are harmful, this post does a nice job of putting it into words. anyway, genderbends will get a quick block from me.

muse preference ( fluff, angst, smut ) — well i tend to write a lot of cheery, silly stuff as is the nature for luffy, but also because that comes to me the easiest sometimes. but i really love angst and hurt/comfort type stuff. like yes, i want the angst, but please let me have a comforting resolution for them as well. angst and drama with a sprinkle of fluff. on that note, i also just enjoy writing luffy being silly and unhinged, because it makes people smile and laugh and you all deserve a little bit of that each day.

plot or memes — either really! i think memes are a great way to both start interactions, but also keep plotted things going. that being said, i love plotting with people and fleshing out the dynamics of our characters, and a lot of the time i have ideas to share. so i like both!

long or short replies — i am a sucker for longer replies. while not a lot of it is introspection for luffy, he is an active character with ever changing expressions and actions that he's doing. i also really love imagery and describing scenes, so that gets put into his writing sometimes as well. in the stuff where i do explore his emotions and vulnerability, i also can't do that in a short thread because there needs to be context, so i will write as much as needed to do that side of him justice. that being said, i also enjoy short things too! the silly short things are my go to when my brain isn't braining.

best time to write — usually weekends, because i can take my adderall and sit down and get a lot of stuff written

are you like your muse — despite being a lot more introverted, i do think i share some similarities with luffy. we both really like to keep things silly, but can get very serious and passionate when it comes to protecting our friends or just people in general. like him, i also have a lot of love to give to people and i really enjoy making new friends (when i have the energy). uh what else...we're both eager to fight, but in a love punch/wrestle kind of way. and i too have nearly drowned in an ocean on multiple occasions.

tagged by: @celestiialnotes & @rubctosis & @enjomo (just gonna tag you here :D)

tagging: if you're seeing this and haven't done it yet because i don't know who has and hasn't been tagged, YOU! (and then say i tagged you hehe)

[neurodihuegent]

turning thirteen

a birthday fic for the three birthday boys <3

Characters: Huey Duck, Dewey Duck, Louie Duck, minor mentions of other characters

Words: 2285

Summary: April 15, 2021: The day of Huey, Dewey and Louie's thirteenth birthday.

(text under read more)

Today, Huey is 13.

He didn't really feel different. Whenever his birthday rolled around, he was excited that he was getting older, but stopped anticipating a major difference between the day before his birthday and the day of.

Turning 13 made him reflect a lot: He was finally a teenager. He'd be around that age to move up to seventh grade in a public school, except he hasn't gone to public school in three years.

These past three years, his entire perception of his family, his core beliefs, his own self, had completely flipped.

His entire life, he grew up only knowing his brothers and his Uncle Donald as his family, and he knew that Uncle Scrooge existed, but never pieced the connection until the day they met. But now, it seemed like everyday, he was finding out about a new family member and Webby's elaborate family tree was enough to give him a headache.

Ever since he joined the Junior Woodchucks back when he was seven, he seemed almost physically incapable of functioning without a Junior Woodchuck Guidebook at his disposal. He personally didn't see an issue with it as it gave him the knowledge he needed to maneuver through everyday life, especially living with a constantly adventuring and danger facing family, but he also knew that he started to become co-dependent on it even though he had more than enough knowledge now to function on his own two feet. It wasn't easy, and the book is still a huge source of comfort to him, but now he's able to distance himself from his book in times where he needs to think on his feet rather than waste time flipping through the pages of the book, waiting for an answer.

Not to mention, his final encounter kind of tainted his view of the Junior Woodchucks: He knew that Isabella Finch and the Junior Woodchucks by extension had little to nothing to do with Bradford's plans, but her insistance on bringing him to adventure is the trigger that put him and all of his loved ones in danger in the first place. The Junior Woodchucks always had a special place in his heart, and he was eagerly awaiting the day for him to give a second attempt at becoming a fellow Senior Woodchuck with Violet, but he also found himself becoming less and less excited with all of the Junior Woodchuck activities he participated in following that day. It pained him, really.

Then, his anger: This was something he never thought he would've addressed again following that one day, just mere weeks before they met Uncle Scrooge for the first time.

Uncle Donald and his brothers were always aware of his anger, but they never knew the full extent of it until that day. Whenever Huey even got the slightest bit angry, he felt himself losing his grip of control on any situation, and there was nothing scarier to him than not being in control and being able to work his way out of something with a clear mind: So he chose to hide it. He chose to bottle it up inside, no matter how much it physically drained him or how overwhelming it became, it was the only alternative in his mind.

But then he spent that day in Swanstantine with Lena, trying to concoct ways to combat Steelbeak, and he had to come to terms that tapping into his anger was the only way to get a favorable resolution on their side. So he did that: He became one with the alter ego he created in his mind to shove his anger to the further depths of his brain, one that was dubbed "The Duke of Making a Mess" thanks to Dewey trying to make light of that one time he blew up in front of his brothers and Uncle Donald, and he.... controlled it. He didn't let the unhinged nature of this anger consume him, and he was actually able to create an equilibrium between the personality he was okay with people seeing, and the personality he was more insecure about than anything. And he'd be forever grateful to Lena for that.

He grew one inch in height, not that it held any significance considering Dewey grew two inches. As long as he was still taller than Louie, who didn't seem to have grown through any significant change of height, he'd come to terms with Dewey being the tallest.

Today, Huey turned 13, and the more he thought about it, he definitely wasn't the same person he was around this time last year. Physically, he didn't feel any different, but mentally, he definitely grew from the person he was the day Uncle Donald dropped him and his brothers off at Uncle Scrooge's doorstep. And maybe that was a good enough reason to celebrate.

--

Today, Dewey is 13.

Dewey counted down the days until he would turn 13 ever since he learned how to count past ten. It was a huge milestone to him, as he was finally a teenager. But now that the day was here, it felt a bit underwhelming. Maybe he expected too much for the first day, but he didn't feel any different than how he felt the night before when he was still twelve.

He remembered he left an envelope stashed in his pillowcase, one that was designated to be opened only on his thirteenth birthday that he had written when he was nine. He scrambled through his pillowcase, praying that it hadn't slipped out and gotten lost, until his hand made contact with a piece of paper. Dewey didn't have the best memory, so he honestly had not idea what to expect when opening this letter.

He unfolded the top part of the letter, revealing the title "Dewey's To-Dew List By 13".

He fully opened the letter, and found himself tearing up when he read the first, and only thing on the checklist:

1.) Find my mom!

Growing up, his brothers were often under the impression that Della had passed away and Uncle Donald just didn't like talking about it, but Dewey always had a feeling that it wasn't the full truth. He came up with plenty of crazy conspiracies, such as her getting kidnapped by the government and kept under protection in Area 51, but all of them were somewhat comforting to him: It was better than believing that the mother you always wanted to know, was long gone.

But then his mom came back, and all of these years of having doubts and questions were subsided. He loved having his mom around, especially with how they seemed to click with each other almost instantly, and if it weren't for her influence, he never would've discovered that he enjoyed piloting as much as he did.

When the mom he spents years wondering about, and a year searching for came back, he should've felt satisfied then and there: Except he didn't.

Uncle Donald always made it blatantly clear that he loved all three of the boys the same, and would stand by them no matter what, but sometimes that reassurance wasn't enough for Dewey. He wasn't Huey, who had so many accolades under his name only by the age of ten, and he wasn't Louie, who had a personality that could charm an entire crowd of people. He was Dewey, and it took a long time for him to come to terms with that.

It took a while, but Dewey had realized that he was special, in a way that was unique to his brothers. When it came to adventures, sometimes Huey would get too caught up in trying to calculate the perfect plan, and Louie would get caught up in his anxiety, but Dewey always liked to face things head on. Maybe it wasn't the best tactic, but it was one that earned him the title of "tougher than the toughies" for a reason. His overflowing confidence in nearly all ways of life, was something that both of his brothers lacked in different ways, and that's what helped him stand out rather than blend in as "the third one".

Dewey held the letter close to his heart, reminiscing on the kid he used to be. His confidence never faded away no matter how he aged, it was a staple of his personality for as long as he remembered, and one that he cherished the most.

Today, Dewey turned 13, and he knew he was the same person: his stubborn mind and determined heart remained the same. Yet, something felt different. When he was nine years old, he never could've imagined this life for himself, especially in regards to his mom. But now, even though he'd never admit it, he could actually rest with some peace at mind: That he was good enough, that he shined in his own way, and that he had a support system that truly loved him.

---

Today, Louie is 13.

Out of his brothers, Louie would argue that he cared about this day the least. It was just another day in his mind. Sure, it was fun celebrating his birthday with his family, especially with Webby and Launchpad around who always made sure that the triplets had the funnest day possible, even if that day ended up a bit hectic.

Louie didn't see the hype with getting older: Sure, now he was less than three years away from being able to get a license, and then five years away from being a legal adult, but those were still years: Not days, not weeks, not months, years.

If you told Louie that this was what his life would be like when he turned ten, he'd straight up laugh in your face. In these past three years, he went from being a casual supporter of the Richest Duck in the World, to one of the nephews of the Richest Duck in the World. He went from only ever having Huey and Dewey as brothers, to having Webby, who was more like a sister than a cousin, and May and June by extension. He went from only ever having one parental figure, which was Uncle Donald, to having his mother who he was sure was dead, come back into his life and play an active role in it. Louie wouldn't admit it outloud, but the way his life shifted from a boring one living at the Marina with his brothers and his Uncle, to living in a Mansion with an extended family where all they do is get themselves in and out of trouble, was really exciting to him. It's something he never would've thougnt he'd have.

Especially when his mom came back. They started off on a terrible footing, with Louie being hesitant to become comfortable around her to the fallout they had over Louie and the tub time machine, which as time went on he started to realize more and more where he went wrong, and because of that, there was always an awkward tension between them. Even after all of the hugs, kisses and apologies, Louie could always tell Della felt like she had to be cautious around him. So for the first time since they first became introduced to each other, Louie took the initiative when it came to bonding with his mother: He figured they wouldn't bond over hobbies despite them being the sharpest minds in the family minus Scrooge, so he pushed for them to bond through just talking with each other, which proved to work through time.

Sure, sometimes the conversations would get dark, with Della hinting at the trauma she's obviously dealing with even now that she's been home for two years, and Louie countering her with talking about the toll adventuring has taken on him for a while. It was very rare that those conversations would actually end in tears, but they were conversations that helped Louie unload his emotional baggage of three years that sometimes he felt he couldn't even go to Huey or Dewey about: and it felt nice.

Louie would be lying if he said he didn't learn a lot about himself, because he did.

Money never came easy for Uncle Donald and the nephews.

Louie wouldn't admit this outloud, but he often admired how much Uncle Donald often put on the line just to make sure the triplets had a bed to sleep on at night. Sometimes, when Louie was younger he would sneak out to the kitchen, and get a peak on Uncle Donald panicking about whatever new bill was due that he inevitably couldn't afford at the time.

It was an image Louie could never forget.

When he came here, he was an emotionally reserved ten year old whose only sight of future, was becoming rich after only ever knowing a life of poverty and having to move almost every other month because of eviction notices. But even that sight of becoming rich became skewed due to his original lack of work ethic, seeing as it led him to end up being on watch lists in 49 different states.

But now, he was 13 years old, shadowing Scrooge on his business ventures, studying up on law, being an active participant in adventures, and letting the family he often pushed away, come in to his bubble. He was sure that the ten year old Louie that stood at Scrooge's doorstep that day, would be disgusted by the hardwork he put into everything he did now, but also proud that he was able to make it this far.

"Happy birthday, guys." Louie murmured as he slid out from the bottom bunk, getting ready for the day inevitably crazy day that was ahead.

[beholdme]

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 9

Chapters: 9/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]

On a Tuesday in the middle of November, not long after Gerry's 28th birthday, the three of them eat dinner at Gerry's flat, as they often do these days. Jon cooks for them and after, Martin and Gerry wash the dishes and debate the book they both just finished reading.

Jon has been twitchy all evening, so they leave him to read his own book in peace.

He wanders in at one point, leaning against the counter. "Gerry, do you know what day it is?"

Gerry looks over at him in such a way as to indicate that he really doesn't.

"Our six-month anniversary?" He tries.

"No," Martin pipes up, "That's not for weeks yet."

Jon and Gerry both look at him askance. "What? Your boyfriend starts dating another man, you remember the date. I can't believe you two don't know." Martin says as if that about covers it.

"Nevermind that." Jon snaps, and even with his previous moodiness, the others are taken aback at his blunt words and even harsher tone.

"Something wrong, Jon?" Gerry asks quietly, leaning against the opposite counter to Jon and crossing his arms. His tone suggests what he actually wanted to say was 'Do we have a problem here, bitch?' but he manages to reign the actual words in.

"I want to know why you left without saying goodbye." Jon's words are filled with a multitude of frustrations, none of which are actually conveyed in his limited words.

"Yesterday?" Gerry asks, incredulous. "You were asleep!"

"No! Not yesterday." Jon snaps back. "When we were younger. It's been ten years today since you disappeared off the face of the planet."

"Oh," Gerry responds quietly, his defensive posture dropping. He leans his hands back on the table behind him, bringing his shoulders up around his ears. It’s a rare display of confident, edgy Gerry trying to shrink himself.

"I thought we were, you know. Together. Then one day you were just gone! As if you had never existed. Your mother wouldn't tell me anything at all, just sat there smirking at me, said that you were gone and she didn't know when you were coming back, or if you were ever coming back. Which you never did, actually." Jon has been pacing, his voice rising with each new word until the final words are shouted accusatorily into the space between them.

Gerry knew Jon had wanted to talk about this since the day he walked in the library and back into his life. He had waited, been patient, and Gerry had put it off in the hopes that he would never have to choke the words out. Now, that patience was obviously over, and he knew he owed Jon this explanation.

"We were together Jon. I loved you."

"So why? What did I do so wrong, that I got to wake up one day and find you gone ?" Jon's voice has become desperate, and they can all hear the tears that he is trying to hold back.

"Don't say that. You didn't do anything wrong. We weren't perfect, but we were always so good together. I... I had to get out of there. And I couldn't leave any clues behind, so I couldn't tell you anything, because it wouldn't have been safe for either of us." Gerry reaches towards Jon to soothe him, but he flinches away and Gerry doesn't pursue him.

"I don't understand." The tears have come, and Gerry desperately tries to hold back his own when he sees them.

Martin had up until that point been standing resolutely in the corner, trying not to interfere in their pre-Martin argument. At the advent of tears, Martin moves to stand at Jon's back, gripping his shoulder for comfort. Gerry looks bereft and Martin holds out a hand to get him to come closer as well. They huddle all together, both Jon and Gerry taking comfort in Martin's steadiness.

Gerry leans into Jon, sliding his hand around his neck and pressing their foreheads together. "I'm so sorry, love. I've never forgiven myself for just disappearing on you. I thought about you every day."

"I love you," Jon whispers as Martin rocks them both gently. "But I need to know."

"I love you too." Gerry shuts his eyes and wishes more than ever to erase his shitty legacy of pain and blood.

*

Martin drags them to bed and offers to leave them alone to their talk.

"Please stay," Gerry says, grasping his hand. "You both need to know, and I don't want to have to talk through this twice."

So they all pile into Gerry's bed together, sitting in a vague circle like teenagers at a slumber party.

As Gerry starts to talk, Martin drags him over toward him and begins braiding his dark blue hair. It's both an offer of physical comfort and affection (easily Gerry's main love language) and a simple way of letting him off the hook for eye contact.

With Jon staring at him quite intently, Martin doesn't think he needs any further pressure.

"Jon, you-" He starts and then halts abruptly. Jon reaches over and grasps his hand, attempting to further ground him. "You remember my mother. I know you saw how, how just off she was. Manipulative and controlling. By turns demanding and completely uninterested in me. One day I would be free to run wild for weeks at a time, the next she would have a meltdown if I wasn't exactly where she wanted me, every second of the day and night." Gerry blows a breath out, shuddering at the memory of a particularly bad incident with a vase that had left him needing several stitches over his left eye.

"Well, she wasn't always like that. I remember her being a pretty good mom when I was young, if distant. She was always far more interested in being a wife than a mother, and she loved the way my father adored her.

“When I was 7, my father was blinded in an accident at work. I remember the day the phone call came. She spoke very calmly to the hospital, before hanging up the phone and shattering every picture frame in the house." Martin is finished with Gerry's hair and simply leans into him, offering silent comfort. "He coped okay with his new disability actually, and I liked helping him learn the world again with no sight. My mother never recovered from her initial breakdown though. She was angry and petulant that she needed to help and support him for the first time in their entire relationship and became more and more unhinged over the course of a year.

"One day I came home from school to find a puddle of blood soaked into the floor of the living room. She said there had been an accident and my father wasn't coming back. She hit me for the first time when I cried. She told me that I was a man now, and tears were for useless girls and disgusting… Well, you get the picture."

Gerry pauses and glances between them. A few tears have started to run down his face, but he doesn't seem to even notice them.

"We moved a few days later, and that was all I ever knew about my father's death until I was eighteen, almost ten years later. I'll spare you the horrid details, but as I'm sure you've already guessed, she murdered him. She explained very, very graphically what she had done with the body, and that she would never be caught, no one would ever think to blame her, even if anyone could ever prove that he was dead at all."

The words hang heavy in the air between the three of them. Gerry feels the comfort of their touches, but can hardly stand the affection anymore. He gets up off the bed and goes to look out the bedroom window, arms crossed and posture hard.

"Then she looked me right in the eye. And she told me that was exactly what would happen to Jon if she ever caught me with him again."

Dead, cold silence fills the room.

Gerry turns back around to find them both watching him. "So, I packed whatever I could fit into my duffle bag, and I got the hell out of dodge. I ran. I ran because I couldn't close my eyes at night with seeing your face white and cold and covered in blood and," he breaks off and takes a shuddering breath, covering his eyes and sinking to his knees. "And I couldn't stand that she would hurt you because of me. That all your light and potential would be ripped away from you in blood and pain and nothing I felt for you could make even the risk of that worthwhile."

He lifts his head to look up at them, where they’ve moved to the side of the bed towards him. “And do you want to know what the worst part is, actually? I can’t get over the idea that even though I haven’t seen Mary Keay in 10 years, the ghost of her demons lives inside of me. That I'm really just… Her. That one day my mind will snap and I'll be a danger to you both and I'll be the one hurting you, just like she hurt him. And then I'll just be the same monster who has always haunted my dreams."

Martin and Jon exchange a heavy look. They can scarcely believe that Gerry had endured so much and yet is still… Gerry. Happy, flirtatious, loving Gerry. Gerry, who fills their lives with colour and spontaneity, always showing up when they least expected him, pushing himself into their gravity and asking for space in their lives.

Despite the rather violent nature of Gerry's confession, it doesn't change anything for either of them. Things are not yet settled between them, but they curl around Gerry on the floor and they cry together over shattered innocence and sacrificed futures, and Jon promises himself that he will never let Mary Keay come between him and Gerry ever again.

[the-tzimisce]

In a week it’s going to be the tenth anniversary of my fake birthday. It was the day before New Years Eve and I told no one because that kind of thing sounds like a New Years resolution, and everybody knows no one keeps their New Years resolutions, especially not unhinged ones like stop having my clinically diagnosed compulsions, and I didn’t want to risk the weight of people expecting me to fail throwing off my understanding of myself. In retrospect it’s sad that I trusted no one to support me rather than bring me down, but I mean also I wouldn’t expect anyone now to believe I’ll do what I say I’m going to do, because I don’t even believe that, because I don’t. So I had the worst semester academically of my entire law school, and three months later I realized I had been touching things with my hands all day and hadn’t noticed because I was captain of the guard in a larp and I was busy protecting the king. (And eight years later there was a pandemic, and we all collectively got germ compulsions, and I got every other kind of stress-related mental disorder, but not that one. Scar tissue is hard to cut.)

I was fighting people for as long as I can remember to say that the mind is plastic and your choices affect your consciousness. People shot me down with a strawman that I was saying mental illnesses aren’t “real,” as though houses aren’t real because you can renovate them. And now it feels like neuroplasticity has become socially unmentionable, but also now I choose who I engage with. So I’ve won, kind of, because I had to say to someone for the first time that yes, obviously I could say I was going to change something a thousand times and fail, and then do it on the thousand first, but like, I won’t. If meaning to do it doesn’t result in it happening, then I have to do something besides mean to do it to make it happen. Otherwise all I can do is predict, and the odds are less than one in a thousand. Incidentally, those compulsions started late in my life. They were basically a signal not to be a lawyer, one almost as subtle as being shredded with a gatling gun. They lasted probably a little more a thousand days.

There’s a piece now that I’m missing. I chose to stop those compulsions. That’s how I spent the three months that went by before I ever once didn’t do one without effort. But I didn’t choose to believe I could choose. Up until that point I had become resigned to mouthing along the words to the “accommodate it because you can’t change it” hymn even against all my own best judgment. Once it became real that I could do it, the conclusion was foregone. The future became inconceivably vast; the near future narrowed to one set of intact footsteps through a minefield. Unfortunately I very much could live like that, but I couldn’t stand at a crossroads and actively choose to. It didn’t get easier so much as it got unthinkable to do otherwise. And there’s the problem, because my fake birthday became my fake birthday because that’s the day the revelation that I could choose came upon me unsought and unannounced. And it has been unthinkable to live like I am now since before the pandemic started.

And now I don’t believe I’m going to do anything I say I’m going to do, because the rate that I’ve done anything I say I’m going to do lately has been statistically indistinguishable from chance. And I don’t have a secret of liberation like I once flattered myself to, I just got caught in the echo of one. If I can reproduce it I don’t know how. Nothing was different about that day. We went to a movie I’ve seen twenty times. I watched my mom make chicken wings. I think we sorted family photos, but that was after, because what I remember about it is sitting there with a glass secret on my lips that might break if I made it known. Would reproducing it even help? The experience is still part of me. Having realized it, I know it. Maybe it’s just a very small secret, that can free the hands but not the eyes.

This is all to say, I don’t know what to do for my fake birthday because I don’t know what would be as useful as going to a Sound of Music singalong in 2011

[king-paimon]

HNK Chapter 86 thoughts: Complicated characters being complicated (Thoughts on Diamond)

I’ve been so anxious about this chapter after the last one. I’m happy to say that it isn’t as heart wrenching as I thought it would be, which was great, but it’s clear now we are approaching end-game and there will no doubt be some sadness coming soon.  

The art in this chapter was gorgeous! I want that two page spread as a poster! Phos looks awesomely horrifying and Ms. Ichikawa never fails to make me laugh at the most weirdest of times. Seriously, the whole buildup with Alex for it to end up with him passing out was hilarious! It was also nice to see most of the gems in the same chapter, and while I’m still sad we’re going to have some major losses, I’m really looking forward to what’ll happen next.

But I want to give my thoughts on the true star of this chapter: Diamond.

This is another really long post so be warned. I again apologize for the messy writing; it is still not my strongest trait, but I’ll do my best to put my thoughts into words and I will make any necessary edits if I need to. These are my thoughts and if you want to share yours, I’m all for it. Please no attacks, though. Everyone has their own opinion when it comes to the characters and while we may not agree, these opinions will be respected. Thank you and please enjoy my probably poorly written analysis!

Diamond... is such an interesting, complicated character. Like with Phos, it’s fascinating how they ended up this way. 

After chapter 84, I was curious to see how Dia was going to react to Bort and it turned out better than I thought. After years of not properly dealing with this toxic relationship between Dia and Bort, of course it would end up with an emotional driven fight. But what has me most interested is how it’s Dia who’s going feral while Bort is being calm. It’s like their personalities flipped, but after looking back, it makes sense.

Diamond is tightly bound to their inferiority complex and their so-called rivalry with Bort.  I betcha that if Bort was the same as he was at the beginning of this story, I’m sure Diamond wouldn’t be flipping out like they did in the chapter. I’m sure that was exactly what they were expecting to see, but that’s not what they got: not only had Bort changed physically, but he had changed mentally. He’s no longer the battle hunger fighter Dia knew; he’d rather care for the jellyfish and not fight at all. Bort has changed through and through. And maybe I’m seeing this all wrong, but I think this is one of the facts that made Dia livid. 

In Dia’s insecure mind, they believe they must be equal to or better than Bort. They must prove to themselves that they are a true diamond by beating the stronger, battle loving Bort at his own game, so they can be truly free of fear and feeling inferior. Dia now finally has the chance to do this… but that Bort isn’t there anymore.  And because of that, Dia feels cheated and angry. Also, I think it’s funny that Dia claims that Bort got to live freely because of them, though really, it’s Phos to thank but of course neither gem will acknowledge that. (Continuing to show how much the gems care about Phos, I see *sarcasm*)

It’s interesting though: Diamond was the one who left and got a new life, but didn’t truly mature or change, while Bort was the one who stayed behind but had changed and matured (sort of.) You’d think it would’ve been the other way around but the fact that this is what happened just makes the characters more interesting to analyze.  Speaking of which...

Diamond and the blame game

I can understand Dia’s inferiority complex and how it’s tied to their obsession with Bort. I can definitely sympathize with them and understand why they made their decisions. But at the same time, I recognize that these feeling are not Bort’s fault but rather Dia’s. This ‘rivalry’ of Dia’s is entirely one sided and the negative thoughts Dia has about themselves are all self-imposed. For this reason, my sympathy for Dia can only go so far.

If Bort was the type to over-gloat and constantly and intentionally belittling Dia and putting these terrible thoughts in Dia’s head, then I would definitely be more sympathetic towards Dia and would hate Bort... But as far as I can remember, Bort never said anything like this to Dia (yeah, he said very mean stuff to Phos but that’s entirely another thing.) 

While he had scolded Dia harshly for doing anything risky, like that time after he saved Dia and Phos all the way back in the first chapters (Chapter 3 specifically,) I pretty sure Bort never went out of his way to intentionally make Dia feel inferior, especially for some sort of personal gain.  As far as I see, Bort’s only crimes against Dia was being overly protective, overly strict, and simply existing.  I’m not saying that Bort is completely guiltless, because Bort is guilty of a lot of things and does deserve some form of punishment.  But intentionally making Dia feel sorry for themselves isn’t one of them. That is all Dia; Dia is the one who put themselves in this negative head-space and chose to run away than properly deal with them. They shouldn’t keep blaming Bort for their self-inflicted misery, but they chose to. 

Should Bort have treated Dia differently/better? Oh yeah, most definitely. Bort, throughout most of the story, had a problem when it came to how he treated the other gems, especially Dia and Phos, and could have done things differently. But regardless, I still understand why he acted the way that he did, partially due to my own experiences in life, and I can’t hate him for it. And despite what I said before, the same goes for Dia; I may not agree with how they’re handling things, but I can understand why it came to this. But in the end, the truth is this: Diamond’s inferiority complex  

What’ll happen next?

I keep on telling myself to not make predictions for this series because Ms. Ichikawa is great at throwing curve balls, but I can’t help but think of the possible scenarios of what’ll happen next between Diamond and Bortz.

The first one is that they end with a draw. Both end up beaten to the point of exhaustion and maybe they both realize the errors of their ways without further destruction to one another. As nice as this scenario sounds, I don’t think it’ll happen, at least not this way. Maybe they both end up destroying each other without a proper resolution… I wouldn’t put it passed Ms. Ichikawa, honestly. So, this scenario, if it were to happen, can either end satisfyingly or unsatisfyingly.

The second possibility is that Dia wins. I find this more likely to happen because Dia has the advantage of the moon people and Bort having a messed-up arm. Anyways, I picture that Dia would win over Bort, finally ‘proving’ to themselves that they are better than Bort and is a ‘true diamond’ afterall... they finally ‘won’...to only realize they aren’t happy. They still felt empty. Wouldn’t that be both satisfying and unsatisfying? This whole build with Dia and Bort, after years of self-inflicted feelings of worthlessness, for Dia to win…to only realize that it was pointless. I kind of hope that we get a scenario like this because it’ll force Dia to acknowledge that Bort, as much as they may hate/love him, isn’t the one who’s holding them back. They’re in charge of their own happiness and blaming Bort for their misery was nonsensical and dumb. 

The third possibility is that Bort would win but I definitely don’t think Ms. Ichikawa will have this happen. Regardless of how I’d feel, I think its safe to say that Bort is most likely not going to survive this fight. If he did, then it would honestly be quite pointless for both his and Dia’s character development. Who knows, though? Maybe something like this will happen but with more twists? Anything can happen with this series… 

Either way, I don’t think Bort or Dia are going to get out of this fight unscathed. It’ll end up with both becoming completely broken physically and/ or mentally. (And to a degree, they both kinda deserve it. A lot. For various reasons.)

Final thoughts:

I’m glad to see I’m not alone when it comes to this character. Dia is anything but perfect or even morally good. Their character is more than the cute, soft, nice girly archetype; they have layers with many negative traits, including pettiness and selfishness, and these traits are shared by many of the other characters in this series. I know I say this a lot, but I can’t think of many characters in this series that are truly good or bad, black or white; everyone are various shades of gray and I think that makes for a fascinating story. And while Dia isn’t one of my favorite characters in this series, seeing them shed become unhinged after everything that happened is really fascinating and I can’t wait to see what’ll happen next.

Sigh, these dang gems…if only they knew how to communicate with each other! So many conflicts would’ve been resolved! But nope: they’d rather ignore the problem and let it fester or they let their emotions take over and go straight to violence without properly trying to resolve anything. Man, I love all of these characters, but they can give me such a headache…

And though a happy ending for all is out of reach, I still have hope that all of them.  The moon and earth gems, the Admirabilis, the moon people (minus Aechmea) and most of all, Phos, deserve happiness. How will this happen? I don’t know… we’ll see.

[mrtroy]

A Tough Day

I write most of the entries on this blog with some sort of lesson, or resolution in mind. As in, the topic I’m writing about or learning about has resolved itself and I’m writing in retrospect. Usually, I like to let life play out a little – often times, the topics I write about are based on things I have learned over years of time.

Today, and in this post, I’m not going to do that. I’m going to write about today. Today was not an easy day. There is no resolution yet. I’m not sure what I’ve learned, and I’m just writing because I need to write.

PUNCH the KEYS as Sean Connery’s character says in my favorite movie, Finding Forrester. You write your first draft with your heart and your second draft with your head. I don’t know if there will ever be a second draft to this post, but this is very much a first draft.

--

I went to a wedding today, and if you know me well, you know that weddings are not my favorite events. For many reasons that I’ve tried to better understand, I have a lot of trouble at weddings.

However, when I woke up this morning at 6:20 AM, none of my usual wedding day jitters were there. My head was clear, none of my usual wedding-attendance anxiety was flaring up.

This wedding was for a new friend of mine, Bryan, who I have met taking the train to work and his lovely new wife, Leeann. We’ve developed a neat friendship over the last year, and I was really excited to be a part of their special day. The event was scheduled during the day, it was small, it was at a single venue and as far as weddings go, it seemed like it had all the makings to be the kind of setup that I would really enjoy.

--

I’m not much of a day-to-day planner, but I all week I’ve had it in my mind that Saturday afternoon at 2:30, I had plans. The venue would take about 40 minutes to get to, I would need to leave about an hour or so to get there – maybe I would leave a little earlier than that – call it 1:15… I was going to wear blue pants and a blue jacket. Brown shoes and belt. The comfortable blue socks I like were clean. I could wear those. The red, white and blue striped tie would look good with the jacket… I wasn’t positive which dress shirt I would wear, but I knew I had options from the last time I took stuff to the cleaners…

This might seem pretty standard, but for me, this is pretty advanced planning…

And I felt good about it.

A need for an eye doctor’s appointment popped up during the week, and the associate at the doctor’s office asked if I could do 8 AM on Saturday. Perfect. Figure 8 to 9:30 at the latest for the appointment. Drive home, and start writing. I like to include notes with cards I give at weddings, and I like to write them in the moment. So, from 10 to 11, I figured I’d write, then get washed up, shave, get ready and have plenty of time leave the house between 1 and 1:15.

--

The eye doctor went well, but it did take a little longer than expected. The brand of contacts I’ve been wearing for the last eighteen years has been discontinued, so, in the process of switching brands, it took a little longer to find something that worked. No problem, I left the doctor’s office at 9:40. Still plenty of time to get home and continue getting ready for the day.

I got home, without issue and sat down to write.

For notes I really care about, I write them on blue legal paper. Interesting, sure. I had never seen a blue legal pad before and I ended up with one, so whenever I have a note that has a little more significance – like a wedding note – I bust out the blue pad.

I spent about an hour writing a note to Bryan and Leeann, was happy with what I scribbled down, and folded the note into the card – which had a nice blue envelop to match the blue piece of paper (yes!) – taped the envelop to their gift and started to head to the bathroom to shave and get ready. I looked at the clock and saw that it was 11:50. I was about twenty minutes behind the mental schedule I wanted to be on, but knew that I still had plenty of time to work with if I was going to leave between 1 and 1:15.

Before I made my way to the bathroom, I pulled out the wedding invitation to load the address into my phone to make sure traffic wasn’t awful before driving to the venue. I figured that if traffic was awful, I could hurry up a bit in getting ready and maybe leave closer to 1 than 1:15 just to be on the safe side.

When I looked at the invitation, my whole day began to fall apart.

From top to bottom, I read the very formalized introduction from the bride’s parents inviting me to join them on March ninth, two thousand and nineteen…

I feel like the only time you ever see the entirety of a year spelled out in words is on wedding invitation…

At the bottom of the invite, I read horrifying words.

The wedding started at eleven thirty in the morning. (With a reception to follow)

--

Wait, what?

11:30?

How had I had 2:30 in my mind for weeks?

I had been telling people all week that I was going to a wedding at 2:30 on Saturday. Last night I had met for dinner with another of our friends from the train, and I probably mentioned my schedule that revolved around 2:30 at least two or three times…

11:30?!

It was already 11:51.

My heart sank. How had I done this?

I never forget dates and times. Ever. If I commit something to memory like that, it’s in there. No question.

I looked again at the invitation.

I saw the word Two and then the TH from ‘thousand nineteen,’ and I realized what had happened. I had seen the Two Th… and I had read Two Thirty and implanted that into my mind. It wasn’t actually written, but I was so non-accustomed to reading out full dates, that I assumed when I saw ‘Two Th’ that it was 2:30.

Dude. What the heck.

All the wedding-day anxieties I normally get flooded my mind.

I texted my friend to ask what I should do. I called my mom. I started doing mini-laps around my kitchen.

All my advice told me to just get ready as fast as I could and get to the restaurant as soon as possible.

So, I tried that.

I shaved – pretty cleanly, actually. An improvement over my recent shaving form…

I went to go get dressed and I realized that I hadn’t worn either of the two dress shirts I had narrowed my outfit down to since I moved last month. As a result, while the shirts hadn’t been worn since the last time they’d been to the dry cleaner, they weren’t exactly in tip-top shape to be worn to a wedding.

No problem, ironing shirts is one of my favorite things to do, I unsheathed my trusty Black & Decker ICR505 from its over-door hanger and got to work on the white button down.

The shirt was in decent shape, but as I got to the back of the right sleeve, I noticed some sort of drip-like stain. It was brownish yellow and looked like something that would not have gotten on the shirt in the course of wearing it, but more likely was something that fell on it in the course of moving apartments. I noticed another remnant of the stain on the bottom of the back of the collar and this definitely confirmed my suspicion. These stain locations were far too obscure to happen over the course of normal wear.

No matter, there really wasn’t time to be debating stain origin. I got out my Tide Stick, and started blotting. There were maybe four or five different subsections of the stain across the different locations, and except for one on the back of the collar that would be covered by my jacket, I got the rest of them out.

But, time was ticking. It was now 12:50. How had it possibly taken me this long to shave and iron a shirt? What the heck was I doing?

I put my brown belt on, found my comfy blue socks, laced up my brown shoes and started to put my tie on. I could feel myself already starting to sweat. I rarely sweat, but this was one of those times where my heartrate was elevated despite standing still. 12:55.

Under normal circumstances, tying a necktie is not a hard thing to do. Loop over, around back up under, in between and through. Pull tight, adjust. I don’t wear ties a lot, but tying them doesn’t usually give me trouble. Of course, today, it did.

Things were spiraling at this point and with every attempt I was becoming more unhinged. Finally after three unsuccessful attempts that left the back part of the tie longer than the front, I got the tie how I wanted it and went to get my sport coat, the wedding gift, my winter coat, keys, etc. so I could leave the house and begin my drive.

I went into my closet expecting to find my blue sport coat. No sport coats, no suit coats just a bunch of empty hangers next to my dress pants. Again, I hadn’t needed this stuff since I moved last month, and while I thought these items were where they had been in my last apartment, they weren’t there today.

Storage.

Okay, the coats probably got left with some of my other outdoor jackets that I don’t have room for in this current closet. Those coats are downstairs in storage.

So, I gathered all my stuff and headed into the basement of my apartment where I had a storage unit. Deep in the bowels of my old building is a creepy area with a ton of random stuff and luckily it is also the home to a lot of items that don’t fit in my small space upstairs.

After a few minutes of rummaging, I found my blue sport coat and headed back upstairs to my car. Across the way, up to the third floor of the parking garage.

As I got everything into the car, I looked at the clock. 1:31

So much for between 1 and 1:15…

But, still, after all the mishaps and misfortunes of the morning with the stained shirt, the tying of the tie having to locate the sport coat, my GPS was still telling me I could make it to the venue by 2:15. Granted, that was two hours and 45 minutes late to the wedding, but for what it was worth, it was still fifteen minutes before the 2:30 start time I had been mentally calibrating for all week.

--

I tried to tell myself that despite the circumstances, and despite the fact that I was going to be late, try not to beat yourself up over it now. There’s nothing you can do…

I failed in that regard.

The entire drive to the venue, I lambasted myself mentally for committing the wrong time to memory. I felt awful for Bryan and Leeann to invite me – to sit me with her family no less – and then to have me not even know what time the wedding was at.

My chest felt like it was going to burst with anxiety.

In my head, I knew that Bryan and Leeann were some of the more understanding people I had ever met, but I could not stop feeling guilty about what had happened.

--

It started to rain.

I looked over to the seat to my right and didn’t see my umbrella. My mom – during our earlier call – had reminded me that it was going to rain, and that I should bring it with me. I had meant to. But I had forgotten it.

URG.

That’s fine, I thought, Leeann had sent out an email a few days earlier with a reminder that the venue had a complimentary valet parking service that we could utilize for the wedding. I’ll do that, the rain won’t get me too wet in that case.

Good. Okay.

Deep breaths.

--

As the minutes ticked down on the GPS, the estimated arrival time pushed a few minutes due to the rain and a little traffic. ETA: 2:19.

In my head, I really wanted to make it before 2:30. At least, in my own mind, I would have the peace of knowing that I wouldn’t have been late at the time I was thinking the wedding started.

More traffic.

2:25 ETA.

Finally, I pulled into the neighborhood that housed the venue. It was a nice area – one I’d never been before, but definitely nice. If only for the rain. It was coming down pretty good by now.

I came to the venue, saw the valet stand, but didn’t see anyone manning it. Figures. Most of the guests probably arrived three hours ago!

Before I knew it, I was past the venue and needed to turn around and try again. I went up a few streets, made four right turns and tried again.

More familiar this time, I looked for street spots right before the venue, and the last time by, I had noticed an alley I figured I could drive down to see if there was any parking in the back of the building.

Second time by, still no parking attendant. Still no street spots. So, I turned into the alley. The alley wound around quite a bit, and there were some spots, but they all had towing signs. Plus, I was far enough away from the venue that even if I risked it and tried to park in some random spot, I would have gotten soaked in my umbrella-less walk to the venue.

So, I turned around again, and began lap three towards the restaurant. Again, no parking attendant. Again no spots.

By this time, it was 2:35 and mentally, I was fried.

I began another lap and this time I decided that I would stop out in front of the venue and try to go inside and explain to someone what I was trying to do.

Luckily as I was coming up to the building for the fourth time after my last lap around the neighborhood, I saw a guy out front in a suit flower on his lapel. Ah. He must have been in the wedding.

I rolled down my window and asked if the wedding was still going on.

He laughed a bit and said that dinner was over, and it would probably be winding down soon, but yeah, it was still going on.

I told him I was supposed to be in there and had been driving around a bit and asked if there was still a valet working that might be able to help me find a spot for my car.

He went in and found the valet who was quite surprised to find that someone was actually still arriving to the event more than three hours after it started. Was I sure I wanted to go in, he asked, the wedding would be ending in 30 minutes he told me.

Seriously?

Well, I told him, could he find me a spot, and I could at least go in, give the bride and groom my gift, and then come back out and pick up my car?

He said sure, I put on my sport coat, dodged a few rain drops, and made my way into the restaurant.

It was 2:45.

Miraculously, within ten seconds of walking into the venue, Bryan was on his way back to the main dining room and he bumped into me.

He had this huge smile on his face as if to say, you made it! (I had decided not to text him between the time I realized I was going to be late and when I arrived – figuring he either wouldn’t have his phone, or wouldn’t want to be bothered on his big day with my whereabouts)

In a few seconds, I explained what had happened, and we laughed.

A few moments later, Leeann walked over. I gave her a hug, she said thanks for coming, and started to tell her the story of my morning as well.

At that moment, the clinking of glasses could be heard from the other room, and the bride and groom ran off to go dance.

I looked around and saw unfamiliar people in all directions. Dinner was over. The seating arrangements had broken down and people were just huddled around tables as they normally are at the tail end of weddings.

I found a bathroom and went to hide and try to think about what I could do.

I had already seen the only two people I would know at this wedding, and being that brides and grooms are always super busy at their own wedding, I wasn’t sure if would see them again any time soon.

I thought about pushing my way through into the main room, but to do what? Food was done being served.

The thought of going to dance did not seem appealing. Dancing rarely seems appealing to me, and after three hours of manically trying to get to this wedding, I was not feeling it in that moment to say the least.

I left the bathroom and figured I would go back out into the venue and see if I could see Bryan and Leeann again and maybe say hi.

After two nervous mini-laps around the side of the venue, I couldn’t take it anymore.

I went outside and saw the valet walking back to the valet stand. He hadn’t even parked my car yet. It had been sitting, double parked in the street for the last fifteen minutes. I got my keys, got in the car, and started to drive away.

--

Immediately, I knew this wasn’t the adult way to handle this. I should have gone all the way into the venue again, found a table and a glass of water and sat down near someone. Soon enough, someone would have come up to me and said hi, and from there, I should have mingled for a bit until Bryan or Leeann saw me.

But I didn’t do that.

As I often do in social settings where I don’t feel comfortable, I bailed.

In that moment, I longed deeply for a partner to be going to events like this with. Someone who would have forced me to confirm the starting time, and would have helped me avoid the entire predicament in the first place.

But, at the same time, I thought back to three other weddings where my inability to feel comfortable in the types of settings they produce had led to similar behavior that had greatly turned off three different girls I had been dating. Now, I was thankful that this latest episode didn’t occur with someone I cared about to the point where I would scare her off like I had the previous lot.

Just then, Bryan texted me asking where I was at.

As I drove, I didn’t reply right away – partially for safety reasons, but also because I didn’t know what to say.

In the moments after his text, shame pile drove me into the seat of my car. I decided then and there that I would never show my face to Bryan again. I contemplated no longer taking the train we ride together. Two seconds later, I had decided to get a new job. I figured he’d come to my apartment looking for me after a while, so I decided I would need to move across the country to get away from him.

I’m not sure what stopped that avalanche of thinking, but a few seconds later, I saw myself back in my therapist’s office trying to explain to him my actions.

--

The last two months of my life before today have been really good.

I’ve felt really healthy. My mind has been clear. I’ve been eating well, sleeping well, etc. I’ve felt like I have been doing well at work, I’ve been really pleased with how things have gone since I moved, and have generally been really hopeful and optimistic about where I’m at.

--

And then, I have a day like today.

A day that started innocently enough, and then within three hours and ten minutes of finding out I’m going to be late to a wedding, I’ve convinced myself that I’m going to run away from my friend, and move across the country.

Solid, Matt. Solid.

--

I drove home, changed out of my clothes and took a nap. Upon awakening, I felt a lot better and decided I would not be fleeing my apartment after all. And while – as I stated when I started writing this post – I don’t have a resolution or lesson figured out yet, I do believe two things.

The first is a reminder I live by that says, God gives us little things to take care of in preparation for the bigger things He has in store for us.

Today reminded me that for any and every big dream I’ve got, I still have a lot way to go just to be able to do the simplest of things to be able to function in normal social settings. I thought I was further along in my progress on that front, and apparently, that wasn’t the case.

I dream one day of a wife and a family, but obviously, I’m not ready for that responsibility. I can’t even hold my own life together to the point where an honest mistake about reading the time of a wedding wrong has me slippery-slope sliding to the point where I’ve talked myself into moving across the country.

The second thing I believe is that while I may not be able to dismiss the shame I manufactured into today’s situation, God can, and He does.

And in that, I do find hope.

Deep down, I know I don’t have to carry around guilt and shame for anything – let alone something as innocent as today’s mix-up.

I’m hoping that in the coming days, I can use today’s example as a reminder of what I have just written above, and the next time I have a little thing where I am entrusted to do the right thing, I can.

--

For now, I’m exhausted. Time for bed.

Try again in the morning.

Joshua 1:9

[recentanimenews]

THE GREAT CRUNCHYROLL NARUTO REWATCH Crashes the Chunin Exams in Episodes 64-70!

Come and come all to THE GREAT CRUNCHYROLL NARUTO REWATCH! I'm Nicole Mejias, and I'll be your host this week as we make our way through all 220 episodes of the original Naruto. Last week, we covered episodes 57-63, and we continue this week with episodes 64-70.

So the Chunin exam finally comes to a close in an explosive way, as Sasuke and Gaara face off! This was quite the rollercoaster batch of episodes, with the debut of Sasuke's Chidori attack, the hints about Sasuke's true abilities to power up, Gaara's real strength, and then... the exam ends with the attack of Sand on Leaf. It seems like Orochimaru felt Gaara going out of control was the perfect time to hatch his plan, and now everything is in chaos. As we finish up for this batch, we start getting some truly confusing resurrection powers utilized to give us 2 on 1 Hokage fighting action! Seems like things are only going to heat up after this week's batch!

Alright, let's get the ball rolling and on to what the Crunchyroll Features team thought of this week's episodes!

This week's episode sees the Chunin exam come to a somewhat unsatisfying ending as the true plan of the Sand Village unfolds. I remember my first time around that I wanted to see the exam actually complete, but how do you all feel about this sudden interruption?

Joseph: I didn’t mind it at all, it made the story less predictable and kept the pace up rather than transitioning into your usual post-tournament downtime. I really enjoyed the tournament but I can’t say I care who would have won.

Carolyn: I have to agree, I thought it was nice to see a bigger world/threat/issue than just the controlled, one-on-one fights.

Danni: I love a good tournament arc, so it’s a bit of a shame this one only lasted a few matches. That being said, the new developments are pretty cool. I’m looking forward to where it goes from here if a war does indeed break out.

Kevin: It makes for a bit more dramatic turn, since on first viewing it seems like we’re about to go into another short tournament to finish the arc, but then a war starts. In terms of personal feelings, I could go either way. I appreciate the story not following the exact beats that the audience expects, but I also like tournaments, so wanted to see how the fights progressed.

David: Stopping powerlevel defining tournaments early isn’t exactly new—looking at you, Saint Seiya—but in this case the seeds for the attack have been sown as early as the forest arc, so it’s hard to complain. If anything it would be disappointing if nothing had come of that.

Paul: I welcome the swerve. Sure, in part it feels like Kishimoto got bored with the whole tournament fighting arc, but I love the idea that there's a huge, precarious world out there filled with fragile alliances and ninja skullduggery of which the main characters, in their youthful innocence, are only experiencing a tiny taste.

Kara: I don’t think I’d call this ending unsatisfying, really. I mean, everyone got slapped in the face before the Round 3 preliminaries with the fact that the exams are largely politically motivated, and we’ve known the Sand Village was up to something the whole time. I feel like finishing everything out by the book and handing out Chunin diplomas or whatever would be more disappointing after all that setup.

Noelle: Tournament arcs are such a staple that they almost feel expected for the genre—so anything that tosses it up is something that I’d welcome. 1v1 fights are fun, but after a while, I think I’d lose the patience to sit through the whole thing.

Jared: I think this was fine the tournament during the opening round. It’s certainly something that doesn’t blindside you as it’s abundantly clear something’s going to happen, but it’s a neat way to play with your expectations.

Sasuke is back the spotlight this week during his face off against Gaara, and wow, it’s definitely quite the impressive fight! What are your thoughts on Sasuke vs Gaara after all the build up for Gaara and Naruto?

Joseph: I love how unhinged Gaara is, especially after we learned more about him during his backstory last week. It’s kind of dull that Gaara essentially turtles on defense the entire time, but I like the moment where it hints once again at his monstrous transformation. Even though I said I didn’t need to see the tournament fully play out, I would have liked to have seen where this fight went if it were allowed to continue.

Carolyn: I just felt so bad for Rock Lee the whole time. Those were his moves! But Gaara freaking out and losing his mind over a little blood is part of why I liked him so much on first watch. He’s almost uncomfortably weird.

Danni: I dunno, I thought it was pretty underwhelming. It seemed more like a teaser for an approaching REAL battle between them than anything.

Kevin: Sasuke versus Gaara is one of the fights that I remember most from when I watched the show as a kid. Sasuke pulling out new techniques, showing how much more powerful he’s become, all of it stuck in my head. Watching it again… it’s not as good as I thought. They renamed Raikiri to Chidori for no real reason, and Sasuke managed to reach Lee levels of Taijutsu in a month (and also offscreen), when Lee himself is supposed to be a genius at martial arts, and it took him years to get that far.

Nate: They actually get into this—the Raikiri (Lightning Blade) is Kakashi's version of the original technique, Chidori (Thousand Birds).

David: As others mentioned, this is the first real example of classic shonen action powercreep; Gai and Kakashi point out in no uncertain terms that Sasuke has matched Rock Lee’s physical prowess within a month, and Rock himself even admits this. There’s also only one good bit of animation before the whole thing goes wrong. Overall it’s important but kind of disappointing even if you’re a Sasuke fan.

Paul: I don't currently have any opinions on Sasuke vs. Gaara, since that fight it still on-going, but I do wonder where exactly the story is going with that bit about Gaara momentarily transforming into the Tetsuo-blob from the end of Akira.

Kara: This was my semi-regular reminder that Gaara is a walking horror movie. Gotta agree with Carolyn, I feel sorry for Rock Lee watching Sasuke out there using his moves. Nothing against ludicrous power-ups. Just Sasuke taking a level in awesome, while awesome, feels kind of sour when viewed through the lens of Lee’s story. I’m starting to understand why Naruto is so cranky about Sasuke in his periphery constantly.

Noelle: Sasuke was always going to get his power-up, that was inevitable, but it feels kind of… eh. Probably because we didn’t really see Sasuke work to get these power-ups much, so it doesn’t really feel earned that he’d suddenly become more powerful, especially enough to copy Lee. Sure, Sasuke’s the co-protagonist of the series, but it doesn’t feel as much of a thrilling fight from his end. Gaara is now full-blown horror and I love it.

Jared: It was kind of weird since they build this up to be Sasuke being the returning hero to vanquish Gaara, but since he’s been out of the picture since his fightin the prelims, the real build had been more Naruto/Gaara. Probably doesn’t help that there’s no real conclusion here. Sasuke certainly gets his moments of showing he’s truly back and more formidable than ever and Gaara looks even more unhinged, but it certainly didn’t have the same feel that a Naruto/Gaara match would have had.

This is the first time we see the Chidori in action, showing off how much Sasuke really does seem to be ahead of Naruto in terms of skill. How’d you all feel seeing this signature attack for the first time?

Joseph: They do a good job of making it clear how powerful Sasuke has come in such a short period of time. I dig that they made it seem as if he spent the whole time mastering genjutsu before busting out his awesome new move.

Carolyn: Agreed. It gives some justification for his almost rockstar status amongst his classmates. But also goes to show that hard work and determination are key factors.

Danni: It was cool seeing a physical manifestation of chakra just obliterating anything near it, but it still bums me out that Naruto doesn’t get to be the protagonist of his own show.

Kevin: Sasuke running down the wall, ball of lightning in hand, is one of the most iconic moments in anime for me. It stuck in my imagination for years after seeing it for the first time. My only issue with it is that Guy and Kakashi try to explain away the name change, and it doesn’t really make sense why the technique has two names.

Paul: Having never watched Naruto before, and having only ever absorbed bits and pieces of it through cultural osmosis over the years, I'm ashamed to admit that when I kept hearing people say “Chidori”, I assumed that it was the name of a kunoichi. I think the technique is cooler when Kakashi uses it, personally.

Kara: Despite my aforementioned feeling for Lee, I gotta admit the Chidori looked pretty rad. And yeah, I kind of thought Chidori was a person and not a move, but I’m looking forward to seeing it used later.

Noelle: There’s no questioning it, Chidori looks awesome!

Jared: It makes sense he would inherit a devastating attack like that, plus it’s a cool looking attack to boot.

This segment of the show really gets to let Shikamaru shine a bit, with him fighting Temari and also fighting the faceless Sound Ninja. Shikamaru was always a favorite of mine, and I know some of you like him too, so how do you feel after seeing him get some serious action?

Joseph: I love Shikamaru’s attitude, and I appreciate how differently his fight ends up playing out compared to the rest of the tournament. With that in mind, his real highlight is episode 70 in the classic trope of staying behind to give your teammates a chance to escape. The resolution of that scene is fantastic.  

Carolyn: I love him! He’s basically a genius mastermind who hates that he’s so capable and it’s great. I agree that his stepping up in the actual battle is where he really shines this time around. My favorite bit would actually have to be his very, very detailed plans for how he expects the rest of his life/future to turn out. The boy has brains and strategy, to say the least.

Danni: He has such a bad attitude, and I love it. It was great finally seeing him thinking five steps ahead of everyone else around him. I hope he eventually figures out some kind of finisher for when he has someone trapped in shadow paralysis.

Kevin: Seeing Shikamaru actually fight is a bit odd. I love seeing him in action, but he is most at home as a tactician. In his first fight, he gave up because he was running low on chakra, and in the second fight he needed his teacher to save him because he ran out of chakra. He is a brilliant strategist, but don’t force him to actually fight people himself.

David: Honestly, I don’t think the show does a great job of convincing me of Shikamaru’s character. We don’t know a whole lot about him before this, which is fine, but then he ‘defeats’ Temari mostly because she forgets a tunnel can also have a shadow in it. Then later Sakura is impressed when he stays behind to stall the enemies because he has never been “this reliable of a character before” as she puts it, but most of what we’ve seen from him has been a subverting of that so far, which doesn’t work when I wasn’t convinced of the original concept in the first place. So overall I’m less impressed than I remember being before.

Paul: I like the cerebral aspects to Shikamaru's fighting style, but I could do without the low-grade sexism of him complaining about how he keeps getting matched up against girls. The women in this universe are clearly as dangerous as the men, and a shuriken will kill you just as dead regardless of the gender of the person who throws it. Get over yourself, Cloud Boy.

Kara: It’s funny because Shikamaru annoyed me so much early on for being Captain Haaa Mendokusaaaai. Not that that’s not a mood. I do appreciate that the show played me (and Shikamaru’s classmates) for a fool with that, though. It never occurred to me that he might consider things boring because he’s already five steps ahead of everyone else. As much as I appreciate his tactics, I do kind of hope he gets his ass handed to him by a kunoichi before long.

Noelle: I really think that Shikamaru’s real time to shine comes later, but here we get a fairly good idea what he’s about. He’s smart, his fighting style is unconventional and that makes him rely more on tactics as opposed to brute strength. That being said, even though he’s up against Temari who is more along the lines of overpowering her opponents, this fight isn’t that bad.

Jared: I was kind of surprised just how much they put him over in these episodes. He certainly has a different style and attitude which is a refreshing change from everyone being rather serious about what they do. Although if he really wants to commit to the tranquilo lifestyle, he needs to be more cool and collected than just bored.

I remember my first time around not really understanding the resurrection jutsu in this show, and I won’t spoil things but it comes up again later. If it’s so easy to bring people back from the dead, why don’t people do it more often? Both the First and Second Hokage seem totally fine until Orochimaru controls them. What are your thoughts on this life and death power that we see here for the first time?

Joseph: I don’t recall how it’s used later in the series, but regardless of what it hints at this is just a cool way to heighten Orochimaru’s showdown against the Third Hokage and make him seem even nastier as a villain.

Carolyn: I don’t remember a lot in advance either, it’s been so long since I last watched the show. That’s why this is so much fun!

Danni: I...don’t really get it. I expected them to be zombies, but they seem totally unaffected. How are they supposed to be a threat when they’re friends with the guy they were summoned to defeat?

Kevin: I’m pretty sure that it’s not used more often because it’s a Forbidden Jutsu, like the Mass Shadow Clone jutsu, it’s just probably forbidden due to ethical issues. Seeing Resurrection for the first time, it doesn’t have as much impact as I would’ve expected. If Orochimaru brought back Zabuza, the audience would have a much stronger personal connection and we could measure a previous antagonist’s power against the Third Hokage’s. Instead, he summoned the First and Second Hokage, who are definitely better choices for Resurrection targets, but there are two problems. First, the audience has no idea who they are initially, so we aren’t as invested in the fight. Second, how did Orochimaru get their bodies? Shouldn’t they be under the tightest security the village can muster?

David: It’s currently confusing and weird and as far as I remember it only gets more confusing and weird.

Paul: I'm still of the opinion that Summoning style Ninjutsu techniques (and by extension, Resurrection techniques) don't actually summon a real, individual person or animal. Instead, I think they involve Chakra taking physical form, and that the resulting manifestation is shaped by the will of the summoner. I don't think that's literally Zombie Hokage 1 and Zombie Hokage 2 we see in Episode 70, but rather it's the idea of these Hokage colored and called into being by Orochimaru's memories, biases, and desires.

Kara: I have so many questions about the resurrection jutsu, mainly regarding the summoned people’s loyalties and the entire ethics of it. Granted, ethics in the world of Naruto are pretty screwy already. But the can of worms the show has opened up just by saying this can be done is big and squirmy and terrible. I hope they go into it more.

Noelle: Not going to lie, still kind of iffy on the Resurrection thing. Half zombies, half mind control, I suppose? I do think that revival is by no means easy, but Orochimaru lives for breaking out taboo jutsu anyway.

Jared: Gonna agree with some of the others and say it’s kind of confusing what’s actually happening. My thoughts were that they were able to come back but couldn’t disobey orders from Orochimaru? Whether it’s actually them or not, I’m not sure and I’d assume this isn’t done more often is because it’s a high level technique or forbidden.

And as always, what were the high and low points of this week’s batch of episodes?

Joseph: Low point: gosh, I actually really liked this section of episodes through and through. I guess, while I didn’t mind the tournament itself ending, the low point was cutting the fight between Gaara and Sasuke short. The high point was Pakkun and his SOFT AND SUPPLE PAWS.

Carolyn: High point is definitely Shikamaru taking charge and running through his already planned out future in his head. I don’t think I had a definite low point this week, but I laughed a lot at Sasuke’s James Bond-like introduction of himself at the exam. Does that count?

Danni: Can’t really think of any standout low points. I think the high point for me was finally getting to see the Third Hokage in action.

Kevin: High - Shikamaru’s thinking stance. Seeing him just take a moment to clear his mind, think of a plan, then start acting actually impacted my so much as a kid that it is seriously something I still do. Clasp my hands together in some kind of fake hand sign to focus my thinking to break out of my current mentality. Low - As simple as the moment is, my lowest point was when Kabuto knocked out Kiba. Sure, Kiba’s out, but Akamaru should still be conscious and making a ton of noise that would alert at least the crowd, meaning that Kabuto wouldn’t be able to cast the genjutsu that starts the war.

David: High point despite everything is Sasuke just bodying Gaara. Extremely satisfying and smooth to watch. Low point is Rock realizing how underpowered he is in the face of Sasuke, not necessarily because of the power level issues there, but just because no one is there to comfort him for it all.

Paul: Although I bagged on him earlier, my high point was Shikamaru pretending to be put to sleep by the hypnosis Genjutsu in order to avoid getting dragged into the bigger conflict, because he's just that much of a lazy ass at heart. My low point was probably the English translations for some of the episode titles. “Hit it or Quit it” and “Late to the Show, but Ready to Go” in particular rub me the wrong way, bruh.

Kara: High point is the existence of Pakkun. I love this good boy and his squishy paw pads. Low point is, again, having to watch Rock Lee watch Sasuke. Which is less a “the show did bad” low point like previous weeks, and more an “I feel sad about this” low point.

Noelle: High point, Sasuke vs Gaara, especially with Gaara freaking out over finally bleeding again. Low point, Rock Lee feeling bad because Sasuke powercreeped him, give Lee a break.

Jared: I really liked the Third Hokage taking off his hat to reveal an even cooler hat. Low point was my boy Rock Lee getting real sad about being overtaken by Sasuke.

How about a little bonus question? Since the Chunin exam ends and is more or less never referenced again, who do you think would have won had it gone to an actual conclusion?

Joseph: Knowing this show, probably Sasuke. Then they’d do the whole thing again later Dragon Ball style so Naruto could win.

Carolyn: It seems almost impossible, from a writing standpoint, that Gaara could win, though he’s so powerful that seems to be the logical choice. It’s too soon for Naruto to take it. So, I think Sasuke is the only real option, here.

Danni: No one. The proctor would try to stop Gaara from killing Sasuke, leading Gaara to kill everyone there rendering the entire exam null.

Kevin: I can’t imagine Shino defeating Temari, since she can blow any flying insects away and can fly to get away from any remaining ground insects, so she would advance to the finals. I could see Sasuke versus Gaara going either way (provided he don’t allow stuff Garaa reveals in the next set or two of episodes), but Naruto wouldn’t be a match for either of them, so whoever won that fight would advance. If Temari fought Gaara, she’d probably forfeit before the match even started. If she fought Sasuke, he could probably overwhelm her with speed alone. So unless shounen tropes intervened in the tournament to give Naruto a way to the finals, I suspect that either Sasuke or Gaara would win, depending on who won in the first round.

David: If Gaara’s powers had been allowed to completely come out—in other words, the tournament not interrupted—then Gaara would have completely obliterated Sasuke. Squashed him. He would be dust. Gaara would not only win but Sasuke would be dead.

Paul: Definitely Sasuke. Not only is he a prodigy, he's also got that whole legacy thing going for him as the last-remaining (non-evil) scion of the Uchiha clan. Whether he actually deserves to win it is another matter...

Kara: If things actually went as power levels and fighting styles seem to dictate they would, Gaara, nearly to the death. Considering how Naruto goes, Sasuke with one last-ditch, low-powered jutsu he learned in the first season.

Noelle: At this point in time, it would probably be either Sasuke or Gaara. Provided that Gaara doesn’t go berserk of course, Gaara would probably outmatch Sasuke. If Sasuke activates the power of plot armor, he’d likely make it to the top. Sorry, Naruto.

Jared: Probably the winner of Sasuke/Gaara, although with how everyone was incredibly drained after their first matches, I wonder if by the finals it’d just become a stamina battle and technique wouldn’t be as much of a factor.

COUNTERS: "I'm gonna be Hokage!" count: 23 Bowls of ramen consumed: 29 bowls, 3 cups Shadow Clones created: 258

And that's everything for this week! Remember that you're always welcome to join us for this rewatch, especially if you haven't watched the original Naruto! Watch Naruto today!

Here's our upcoming schedule:

- Next week, on MARCH 29th, DANIEL DOCKERY returns as the Third Hokage springs into action in EPISODES 71-77! - Then, on APRIL 5TH, CAYLA COATS stops by just in time to introduce us to a mysterious new shinobi in EPISODES 78-84! - And on APRIL 12th, NOELLE OGAWA elaborates further in the antics of the mysterious shinobi in EPISODES 85-91!

Thank you for joining us for the Great Crunchyroll Naruto Rewatch! Have a great weekend, and we'll see you all next time!

Have any thoughts on our thoughts on Episodes 64-70? Let us know in the comments! Don't forget, we're also accepting questions and comments for next week, so don't be shy and feel free to ask away!

----

Nicole is a features and a social video script writer for Crunchyroll. Known for punching dudes in Yakuza games on her Twitch channel while professing her love for Majima. She also has a blog, Figuratively Speaking. Follow her on Twitter: @ellyberries

  Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com

[demonslayedher]

[Note: This post will be momentarily edited with links to all the parts.] Part 2: The Aftermath (This one is very long and will meander a lot, you can probably get away with only following your favorite character (if they're still alive). That might leave you very confused by very crappy doodles at the end, though. I was so unhinged by the time I got around to drawing those.)

--

“These are healing up nicely. That’s good.”

Nezuko’s face brightened. “Then can I…?”

“Alright,” Shinobu smiled back, “I grant you permission to start sewing again.”

Nezuko would have thrown her hands up in the air to celebrate, had her left hand not still been under examination. Shinobu applied medicine and new bandages, and with nothing else to do to amuse herself, Nezuko looked around. Her memories of her time as a demon were still dim and jumbled, but interacting with the people who were awake helped bring back her memories of them better. “Hmm? Did you always wear a pink hairpiece? Pink and green…”

“No, mine was purple. It broke. This one’s so bright, it doesn’t suit me, does it?”

“No, I didn’t mean that!”

“It’s alright. I was thinking of taking it off anyway, it’s giving me headaches,” she said, still smiling. “Might be nice to leave my hair down.”

“I always used to keep mine up, too. I used a lot of ribbons.”

“Tanjiro-kun said that. He did his best but could only keep that one on you.”

“He really did do his best,” she said. It was odd how she could both smile and get teary-eyed at the same time. “My memories of him are the strongest. I never would had imagined him becoming so strong.”

“He was always a very hard worker. He inspired that in a lot of other people, too. I liked having his company here.”

“Shinobu-san? I’m really sorry.”

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for.”

“I wish… It hurts that he’s gone, but I wish I could thank Kanao-chan. There’s one thing I remember my brother telling me, after we fought Upper Moon Six. There was a time when he wondered what might happen if he was turned. He had always trusted, and wanted someone in the Corp to hurry and cut his head off for him. I just wish it didn’t… that he wouldn’t have…”

“I’m sure Kanao knew that wasn’t his choice. She accepted it. I had never seen her more resolute than in that moment, so you can take comfort in that.”

“Shinobu-san, it doesn’t seem that you can, though.”

“No,” she said, and the usual smile below her crisscrossed scars vanished. “I suppose I’ll never be able to forgive Tanjiro-kun.”

--

Nezuko’s first sewing projects were simple, as her hands were not yet nimble or strong enough for detailed work. Because the first piece was only a simple shawl, she finished it quickly, and took it right away to the hospital. Her footsteps were light, and she managed to contain a giggle as she tiptoed up behind the woman seated on a stool.

Nezuko dropped the shawl on her shoulders, and then Tamayo let out a yipe. “Nezuko-san! Goodness, you startled me!”

“Sorry! I didn’t wake anyone up, did I?”

“No,” she said, looking back to Himejima sleeping in the bed before her. He was hooked up to blood transfusions and fluids, and his face was sunken and clammy. “I think I’ve got him more stable, but it would be a relief to see him open his eyes.”

“Would a two year nap help, you think?”

“Please don’t joke,” she said, her tone touchy.

Nezuko frowned, and then she pulled the shawl closer around Tamayo’s shoulders. “You might have forgotten, but you feel colder when you’re a human. You should have warm things to drink, too. Would you like to go drink some black tea with me? I think I’ve gotten better at brewing it. Urokodaki-san said it didn’t taste bad last time. I think he'll always prefer green tea, though.”

“That’s very sweet of you. I’m alright. Thank you for your company,” Tamayo said, giving Nezuko a wry smile that spoke volumes between them, relating to each other only as humans who had formerly been demons could. Chachamaru, still a demon, stayed curled up in Tamayo's lap, and Nezuko decided to leave her be. Company was all Nezuko had been able to offer, having been chased away from helping with laundry or cooking.

At least Urokodaki was doing more to help. He stayed busy at the Demon Slayer Corp headquarters with the other retired Pillars to tie up loose ends following everything that happened that night. Nezuko knew Urokodaki’s heart still felt too raw to speak of Tanjiro and Giyuu, he hadn’t said a word of them ever since that awful day when the old man cried and cried, rocking Nezuko back and forth in a tight hug like she was a doll and he was a helpless child. He did better pouring his grief into guiding other children, and it sounded like the young new master of the Corp was so overwhelmed with all the heavy decisions he made in a few short hours that he was now frazzled over the tiniest of matters.

Nezuko, with her brain much like her old child self and still piecing her experience back together, couldn’t be looked to for much leadership. But if company was what she could offer, she was more than happy to.

“Muichiro-kun?” she peered around a doorway. “How about I feed you today?”

“It’s degrading no matter who does it, but I am hungry,” he said back to her. He was still forbidden from using his remaining hand while it healed, what with the flesh having been sliced and then ripped and rubbed apart with how much he kept gripping his sword. It was still hard to say if he’d ever have mobility in that hand again, but he took it in stride, saying he already got more than a lifetime’s use out of it. Every day he had more and more color in his cheeks, and a mischievous streak that had been there almost since the day he opened his eyes. “Unless Genya was eager to spoon-feed me?”

“…mn.”

Genya sat on the next bed over, his back facing them. Every day he looked smaller.

Muichiro and Nezuko frowned. If there was one person not taking this well, it was Genya. He was quiet and usually kept his eyes to the floor when Nezuko was around, his polite responses to small talk and questions so soft as though if he moved his face any more than that, it would start spilling over with tears. That was only around Nezuko, though. Genya was filled with frenzied thoughts which would sometimes spill over when it was only Muichiro around. Muichiro told Nezuko about some of the things Genya said, like how he couldn’t believe he was the only survivor of his whole batch, how he must not had fought as hard as the others did, he’d never match up, and how he couldn’t do anything when Tanjiro was attacking, he didn’t have it in him to do anything to save him, and how he should had been the one to die instead of his brother, how much he wished he’d have taken that attack in his stead. Muichiro always tried in vain to talk sense into him, but he wondered if he overdid it and caused Genya to retreat into himself like this. He knew what it was like to want to retreat from the pain.

Maybe that was why Nezuko found Muichiro easy to talk to. They found they had a lot to relate on, being the same age but feeling they had lost a few years along the way. They once laughed together about how they were still 11 and 12-year-olds on the inside. However, they both possessed a certain resilience through all the loss they had endured, which they could speak frankly of when they were together. They could talk about Tanjiro with fondness, those last horrific moments not having tainted the goodness they always knew him for. Nezuko wished there was a way to make Genya feel at ease to talk with them, too.

--

“Nezuko-san!!” Naho came running down the halls with the biggest smile Nezuko’s human eyes had ever seen on her. “Nezuko-san, come quick! Kanroji-san is awake!”

“Mitsuri-neesan!” she beamed, already feeling close with this girl from her fuzzy memories. If only she could still shrink herself down to a size that would allow her to get away with being playful and spoiled! Having the legs of a 14-year-old carried her swiftly down the halls, for Mitsuri had been moved from the hospital to a private Japanese style room on the other side of the mansion. That whole wing of the mansion stayed low-lit in the daytime, but the colors of Mitsuri’s bright hair were as warm and inviting as ever, even if it had all been chopped short to more easily bandage her face and ear. Nezuko kneeled at her bedside, thrilled to see Mitsuri’s soft green eyes finally peeking through. “It’s me, Nezuko! Are you awake?”

“Nezuko-chan… hello…” she replied with a weak smile and even weaker voice, while her hand searched for Nezuko’s.

Nezuko helped her by taking her hand first. Naho whispered that Mitsuri’s family would be happy to see her and that they’d arrive in a couple hours, then she slid the door shut to let Nezuko enjoy the reunion. “They’re really looking forward to seeing you,” whispered Nezuko, who had seen them come by several times to visit their comatose daughter and cry. “They’ll be so relieved you’re awake!”

“My mother and father...” her eyes drifted shut as she smiled wider against the constraint of her bandages. “I want to see them. I want to tell them… I get to be a bride… Aah!” she griped Nezuko’s fingers with more strength as her eyes shot wide. “Iguro-san! Where’s Iguro-san?”

“Careful, you’re still hurt! You shouldn’t get up yet—”

“He told me were going to get married—but he was hurt! He was hurt so bad! Where is he?”

“He’s in the hospital, next to Himejima-san. Himejima-san is still here, too! Tamayo-san thinks he can triumph over the mark, isn’t that great?”

“I need to see Iguro-san!”

“Mitsuri-san, please, don’t rush yourself! Here, take my hand--Oof—there we go. Are you sure you can be upright?”

“I’m fine.”

She clearly wasn’t, but Mitsuri wasn’t that heavy, and Nezuko was always good at carrying people. Without asking permission, she slid Mitsuri piggy-back, then carried her to the hospital side of the mansion. When they reached Iguro’s bedside, Kaburamaru woke up with a start and slithered straight upwards to wave his tongue through the air in Mitsuri’s direction.

“Kaburamaru-kun… I’m glad you’re alright. Thank you for staying with him,” she said with a tear. She then took a long look at Iguro. The top half of his face was covered in bandages, while the lower half was exposed with old scars and all.

“He’s been touch and go,” said Tamayo.

“He’ll stay,” said Mitsuri. “He promised.”

--

Mitsuri couldn’t be pried from Iguro’s side until her family came, and it was only because she felt guilty for causing a commotion in a hospital that she relented to returning to the mansion. Nezuko found it heartwarming. She laughed, then excused herself to go eat. She asked Tamayo if she wanted anything, and Tamayo declined. Nezuko came back later with rice balls anyway, politely reminding her that humans need to eat sometimes. It seemed that Nezuko liked being kept busy with a reason to go back and forth. Later that night, Iguro was moved to Mitsuri’s room, upon her insistence.

--

It was still Tamayo’s habit to work through the night, but with each day and week that passed, the weariness came on stronger.

Shinobu had taken it upon herself to be Tamayo’s doctor. “Your iron levels are low,” she said. “Are you up to eating meat?”

Her stomach turned. “No, please don’t force me.”

“Can you stomach a broth? That would be a way to get you more nutrients.”

“If it’s not from a mammal, I’ll try if I must.”

“I’m still not in good condition myself. I’d appreciate it if you don’t fade away while there’s still so much work to do on Himejima-san. Here’s the results of the blood work I ran today. The medicine you’re trying seems to be helping.”

She took a moment to look it over. “That’s relief. That means we’ve almost figured out how the mark worked. I think we may be able to entirely reverse it.”

“That’s good for Kanroji-san and the others too. I appreciate your expertise.”

“You say that like you have none yourself, Shinobu-san. We defeated Muzan together.”

“In the end, I didn’t do anything,” she replied over a cold frown.

Tamayo felt too old to play into those self-pitying adolescent games. Misplaced bravado made her stomach turn in angry way. “I’ll try drinking that broth if you sit and drink it with me. Your oxygen levels are low.”

Shinobu didn’t like being doctored either, but with nothing to say for herself, she left for the kitchen. That left Tamayo alone with Himejima and Chachamaru, who was curled up and purring on Himejima’s chest as he was being stroked by a large hand. Tamayo didn’t even realize why that was strange until a second later, when she gasped and took a giant step backwards from the bed. “You’re awake?”

“You must be too weary to have noticed. You and Shinobu both.”

“How long have you been lucid?”

“Please lower your voice. My head feels like it’s splitting apart,” he grumbled. What he wanted to snap at her was that the cat was all the company he needed, but that would had been rude. “Tell me before she gets back. Did Kanao make it?”

“No.”

Fresh tears streamed from his eyes. “I understand. How are Genya and Tokito?”

“They’re in good condition. I haven’t spoken to them much.”

“And Yushiro?”

“He was already dead before all that. He got himself swallowed up by Muzan in my place. He had no idea what he was doing,” she gritted her teeth. “Of all the times for him to disobey me.”

“Nothing went according to Oyakata-sama’s plan,” Himejima let out a sigh, which made his ribs sting. “For even a child like Kamado Tanjiro to have turned into a murderer…”

“…!”

Tamayo looked up with a start to the door, where Nezuko was carrying a single bowl of broth. “Oh no—Nezuko-san, it’s not—”

“Himejima-san is awake?” she said, her eyes wide over a forced smile, and her voice loud over how it cracked. “That’s great! I’m sure Genya-san will be happy to hear that!”

“Kamado Nezuko?” asked Himejima. Chachamaru hopped off his chest and hit the floor lightly.

“I’ll leave this here for you, alright, Tamayo-san? Make sure you eat it while it’s hot!”

With that, Nezuko turned tail and ran out with the door slammed behind her. She bolted as fast as she could, like that last night she ran as fast as her demon cells could still take her. Back on that night, she still had a brother to get to, to feel urged toward, but now, she had nowhere to go.

--

Another week went by, and Muichiro was summoned to the Demon Slayer Corp headquarters. The first person to greet him was someone who towered over him in height, and brimmed with a flamboyant smile. “Tokito! Look, we match!”

“Hardly. I still have two eyes,” he grinned back.

“Other than that arm, you look like nothing happened.”

“You can’t tell, but this shoulder is still broken. And my palm barely has any skin left.”

“E-e-e-w.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty gross.”

“How’re the others?”

“Kanroji-san is well. Iguro-san is getting the same treatments as Himejima-san, and it looks like it’s helping, but he hasn’t woken up yet. Himejima-san’s awake but grouchy whenever the cat’s not around.”

“That makes me curious but I’m glad I’m not around to see him like that.”

“You could come visit.”

“I’m not very welcome at the Butterfly Mansion, not sure if you heard. And Kochou?”

“She looks really different now, even more than Kanroji-san.”

“Oh! The scar, right? I heard about that.”

“Not just that, it’s… hmm. I think it’s that she doesn’t smile much now.”

Uzui frowned. “That’s no way for someone who’s still alive to act.”

Muichiro knew what point Uzui was making, what he couldn’t agree. It didn’t feel right to force someone to smile if they didn’t feel they had much left to smile about.

Thankfully, it had seemed like there was a weight lifted off of Genya’s back when Himejima finally awoke, for Genya had practically melted into Himejima’s bedside as he poured out his pent-up sorrow and failings, every last drop of them. It must had never counted to say it all to Muichiro. Muichiro’s company must not had counted much to Himejima either, for he cried a lot in Genya’s company, and didn’t even say anything grouchy. Maybe he saw Genya like a cat, for how he stroked his head in the same way. Maybe to a blind person, he could pretend Genya’s mohawk was a cat.

It was just as Muichiro was getting lost in such a distracting train of thoughts that he was led into in a wide room, where the former Flame Pillar and former Water Pillar stood. Muichiro had never met Rengoku’s father, but they really did look alike. And the former Water Pillar really did wear a Tengu mask, like he heard from Tanjiro once! Muichiro looked forward to the next time he’d see Tanjiro to mention to him that he saw it, but he still needed to remind himself when those thoughts arose that Tanjiro was no longer around.

He’d mention it to Nezuko instead. Shinjuro motioned for Muichiro to have a seat on the tatami, and then Kiriya and his sisters entered the room. Muichiro didn’t know which was which, but he knew it was likely that one or both of those sisters had spent a lot of time treating his wounds way back when.

“Thank you for coming, Muichiro. I’m glad to see you well.”

“It’s far greater to see you in good health, Oyakata-sama,” he said with a formal bow.

“I’ve asked you here as to act the representative for all the Pillars. I hope you’ll accept my thanks, and the thanks of all the Ubuyashiki Clan, for all your services in battle. Our enemy, Kibutsuji Muzan, and all of his demons are no more. As of today, the Demon Slayer Corp is disbanded.”

“Eh? What? Really?” asked Muichiro.

Kiriya blinked at him. “Did I misspeak?”

“No, I don’t think so, but now what?”

“We’ll still provide retirement bonuses, if that’s what you mean…”

“We all just stop seeing each other and training together? What about the swordsmiths? What will they do now?”

“I… well…. Whatever they want, I suppose.”

“I’ll bet they probably still want to make Nichirin blades. They can still do that if they want, right?”

“Um… we’ll have to look into our budget to see how sustainable that would be…”

“Oyakata-sama, please don’t trouble yourself—” Shinjuro began.

“Oyakata-sama, be decisive,” finished Urokodaki.

“What do you want to do, Muichiro?” Kiriya smilingly changed the topic.

“Me? Hmm. Was there something I wanted to do?” he asked himself, and then thought back to a passing fantasy he once had of going back to the Swordsmith Village for a big party. There would be someone to make a big plate of sakuramochi for Mitsuri, and Kotetsu would show off Yoriichi Type Zero, and because so many of them were such funny people, they’d invite Tanjiro and Genya’s whole batch—

Memories flashed through his mind of two boys he met in training. He had never met anyone quite like those two. The boy with blonde hair, and the boy in a boar mask. Those two were like brothers to Tanjiro, and they were buried forever in the eternal pits of the crumbled Infinity Fortress. He wished all three could had been buried together instead, but Tanjiro had crumbled into ash when his neck and body were perfectly severed, making the body unable to heal without the head, and the head was unable to last without the body, as his transformation was still recent and unstable. There was hardly anything left of his sword either, and that had been dismantled and the hilt guard had already been returned to the Rengoku family.

“I’ll have to keep thinking on it,” he finally replied. “Maybe I’ll go visit Kotetsu-kun when Kochou-san gives me medical clearance. And then maybe I’ll see what other people want to do after that. We’ve all been through a lot of sadness together, but I’m sure there’s still a lot of happy times ahead.”

--

“Hnn… nn… Ka…bura… ma… ru…”

The snake tickled his nose, and the scales rubbed against the skin of his neck. The points where Iguro’s mouth met the old scars pinched to a little smile. It was always good to find an old friend.

“Iguro-san!?”

“Kan...ro...ji…?” he asked. “…This better be heaven.”

“Iguro-sa-a-a-an!” she cheered. “You’re finally awake! It took you so lo-o-ong!”

“I better not had gotten here as fast... as you did… you’d have gotten here right away. I made you wait…”

“I’m so happy! How are you feeling?”

At this, Iguro paused to consider that. He felt oddly stiff for this to be heaven, and too cold to be hell. “Kanroji!” he sat up abruptly, tearing at the bandages at his eyes. “Are you—”

“Careful!”

He didn’t have the strength to sit up so fast, and he slumped forward. She caught him against her chest. She was warm, she was soft—she had a beating heart, as did he, and it thumped harder and harder with every sensation of the touch of her hands and her voice tickling his ears.

“Please don’t be shocked, Shinobu-chan said your eyes probably can’t see anything anymore—”

They were still alive.

“But it’s alright, Kaburamaru-kun and I will take care of you! I’m really, really sad about your eyes, but I’m also ki-i-ind of grateful if you can’t see what I look like now. It’s pretty gruesome, teehee! Please picture me as pretty of a bride as you like. My hair can be any color you want that way, too!”

If they were still alive, then his life had never ended at all. He was still the same Iguro Obanai, filled with the same dirt and sin.

Her voice kept ringing clear and pure as a bell. “It made me so happy when you said you’d take me. I was so afraid you’d never wake up and keep your promise—”

“Kanroji—Kanroji, no—” he pushed her away. The motion made him lightheaded. “That was meant for the next life. The next life!”

“…Huh?”

“The way things are in this one—it’s not right—”

“Then I… the way I am…you—what you meant was…”

“No! The way you are, no one should touch you—”

“Huh???”

“OW!!” he screamed. Kaburamaru’s fangs had dug into his forearm. That sent a rush of blood up to his face, and more importantly, to his brain.

What had he been saying? What had possessed him to think he had any right to toy with her feelings in the first place, making a promise like that? That would teach to run his demon-like mouth! He couldn’t see her, but she was whimpering and sniffling and it was shredding his heart to pieces.

“…I’m sorry. I’m usually more careful with my words than this,” he said, the waves of pain from his injuries catching up to him, causing him to tremble. “I owe you an explanation, will you do me the honor of listening?”

“…alright…”

“I meant that you’re too good for any man to dare to touch you. Especially one like me…”

--

Shinobu was in the habit of waking up late; ever since her lung injury she got tired more easily, and all the extra time sitting or lying down made her even more tired. It wasn’t that she couldn’t work, and she did, but with the Butterfly Mansion less and less necessary as a hospital and Tamayo being a capable doctor with lifetimes worth more experience, there wasn’t much reason for Shinobu to bother. Without missions or training, she found herself with more time on her hands than she had ever had since picking up a sword.

She thought to go spoil her goldfish, but came in to find Sumi and Kiyo already cleaning the tank. “It’s alright, Shinobu-sama!” they insisted. “We have this handled!”

Leaving them to that, she drifted to the kitchen, where she found Naho and Aoi. Naho was quick to give her a wide smile and assure her, “You can leave lunch to us, Shinobu-sama! We’ve got it!”

“Are you sure? Not everyone can eat the same things...”

“I have a system,” said Aoi, not turning back from her chopping. “We can call in Nezuko-san if we need an extra set of hands. I’ve already cleared her for lighter bandages, her recovery’s been smooth.”

“Would you like anything, Shinobu-sama? I’ll bring it to you in your room!”

“That’s alright. I’ll go see if there’s any errands to run.”

“No need, I’ve already sent Genya-san.”

When was she the one to be treated like glass? These were her girls to raise, not the other way around. If she was going to run errands, she couldn’t go around in a tattered old Corp uniform, so she went to her rarely touched kimono collection. She dressed herself well enough in the gown, but her arms got tired and she couldn’t very well tie the obi like she used to. As luck would have it, Nezuko was stopping by that room to look for sewing supplies. “Ah!” her face brimmed bright. “Shinobu-san, you look so pretty! Purple really is such a good color on you! Here, let me help!” When Nezuko finished, she gave the obi two proud pats, and then she bid her to have a good time on her outing.

It was as Shinobu was on her way out that she found Tamayo lingering the doorway like a willow branch had swayed inside, and she had a red parasol in her hands. “Shinobu-san,” she said with some surprise. “Were you going out?”

“For a bit.”

“It’s very sunny out there. Would you like to share?”

There was some fear in her voice, and Shinobu assumed it stemmed from Tamayo’s centuries of deathly avoidance of the sun. There was a look in her eyes which pleaded for an escort. Shinobu agreed, and they walked side by side under the minimal shade. They stopped by a few shops to pick up some small items, and Tamayo felt stares in their direction. People changed their steps to stay out of their way. She looked over to Shinobu's downcast, scarred face, and it did not seem she cared, had she even noticed.

It didn’t take long for them both to feel dizzy under the sun, and they both suggested at the same time to stop and have some tea in stronger shade. The timing made them exchange light smiles. They had a seat and waited for their tea, and after a sip, they both sighed with relief. They met eyes and smiled again, for having done the same thing at the same time.

“That’s better,” Shinobu said. “Look at us, a couple of frail girls. We should take Kanroji-san as an escort next time, if she’s up to it.”

“She’s very busy taking care of her lover. It seems they had an intense conversation the moment he woke up, and the stress made him fall back into a coma. She’s been fretful over it.”

“’Lover…’ I never thought I’d hear that said of Iguro-san,” she put back on her usual tight smile before taking another sip.

“Shinobu-san, if you don’t mind, may I arrange your hair? It’s looking unkempt.”

“Ah. It looks odd left down with a kimono, doesn’t it? It really has been a while.”

Tamayo swept Shinobu’s locks into a twist, then slid the pin from her own hair to keep Shinobu's in place. With her own long hair fallen loosely down her back, Tamayo gave it a simple braid to stay neat. It made her look completely different from how Shinobu had first met her when Tamayo was a demon. She could not comment on that, but it reminded her of someone else. “It's been so long, I needed Nezuko-san to help me with my kimono today too. I think she had fun.”

“She’s a joy to have around, isn’t she?”

“She means every smile. I can see why Tanjiro-kun was always so over the moon about her, all those boys were. You wouldn’t guess it now, but the Butterfly Mansion used to be a noisy place. They were all so lively. Nezuko-san doesn’t seem to remember the other two as clearly as she does her brother. …Maybe that’s for the best,” she said, and her fingers drifted to the scars on her face. “I may have said too much to her, though.”

“About Tanjiro-san?”

“As much as everyone loved him as he was, there’s no taking back what he did. Kanao’s death will always be his fault, and he got to have a quick and peaceful end without paying for that.”

Tamayo nearly broke the teacup as anger zapped down all her limbs. “I won’t stand for any slander of Tanjiro-san.”

“I understand he wasn’t in his right mind. It was the demon cells that made him do it.”

Tamayo set the cup down and then stood up, opening the red parasol behind her silhouette. “You still talk of demons like they aren’t human; like demon’s mistakes aren’t their own failings. Like it’s not one’s own fault that if they tear apart the people they loved. I can promise you, Tanjiro-san carries that guilt on his own. What you’re doing is heaping your own guilt for your own helplessness on him. You can’t take back the fate that others’ sacrifice denied you, no matter how much you mope and blame the dead. If you’re a Pillar then pick up that pain and carry it yourself.”

As much as she wanted to make a statement by leaving on those words, the motherly instinct in Tamayo’s gut told her to leave the parasol for Shinobu. She set it on the ground by Shinobu's feet and then walked through town with only a handkerchief to drape over her head and shield her eyes. Shinobu must had brought out that motherly instinct in her for how childish she was acting, putting on a glum face to drag the world down with her in protest for how she hadn’t been allowed to leave it. If Tamayo still had to deal with being alive after all these centuries she didn’t deserve, then Shinobu could handle a good six or seven more decades.

It wasn’t long before Tamayo felt disoriented in the sun, and every direction of town looked the same. There were so many people, and they looked brighter and bigger in daytime than they ever did in the electric lights of Asakusa. Her weak human body poured with sweat under the violent sun, and her ears began to ring and throb, a sensation she had long forgotten, and look this way and that though she did, she couldn’t spot a place to sit down. Her knees gave out. The cool early spring wind was her only comfort among all the sensations of a frail human body.

“Uh… Tamayo-san?”

A big shadow fell upon her, and she looked up—way up—in to the flustered, scared face staring back.

“Genya-san…”

“Are you alright? Are you ill?” he said over armfuls of groceries.

“The sun is still too much for me…”

“Is it going to hurt you!? Ahh—uhh--,” he looked this way and that, “I can—I'll put these over there—can---can you stand?”

He didn’t give her time to answer, for he ran off, then ran back empty-handed, and offered to help her stand up. He was exceedingly gentle, supporting her with one hand in hers and the other across her back, but it wasn’t long before his glances all around got more nervous and his expression tighter and tighter, until he apologized and scooped her up off the street and started sprinting with her in both arms.

The stronger wind against her face from that speed helped refresh her, and before she knew it, they were already at the Butterfly Mansion. He set her down gently at the veranda and smoothed out her kimono at her ankles and then said, “Sorry. The groceries. Those. I have to go back and get the groceries,” and then he dashed away. His back was so broad and manly, but he had a heart so pure and endearing and childlike that she found herself staring, entranced in his direction even after he disappeared.

Himejima, on one of his first free strolls around the mansion using walls and doors for support, had heard Genya and felt Tamayo’s presence there, so he was curious what had transpired. With a tired groan, he took a seat out there beside her. Before Himejima could say anything, she asked him, “Did he get that scar fighting a demon?”

The two of them then found themselves talking about Genya’s past, everything that Genya had ever told Himejima about his family and his mother, and when Tamayo felt a deep ache of sympathy for this woman, she spoke of her own past to Himejima. Of her beloved husband and children, of Muzan, of Yoriichi, of everything that later led her to Yushiro.

“That child,” she still chided him in her tone, but recalling how harshly she had spoken to Shinobu, she couldn’t let herself blame him. The blame was with herself for having created a demon so loyal to her that he could not live without her.

“Children will always make their own selfish decisions,” Himejima said. “Even if you had watched yours grow up, they’d have disappointed you and broken your heart, time and time again.”

“That’s proof of having given them freedom to live and make their own choices. I saved Yushiro’s life, but it was always his to lose.”

“I think you made a poor choice for Chachamaru. Any normal cat would love to be sitting out here in the sun,” his said, and his distinctly disappointed frown showed that he meant it. Himejima wasn’t one for jokes, and Tamayo couldn’t help but smile and find some relief in that.

--

“It’s okay! They haven’t melted! There’s no need to get mad!” Genya shouted as she rushed through the door, pushed open with his foot. The only person there was Sumi. She gave him with an easy smile. “Welcome back, Genya-san. Thank you!”

“Aoi-san’s not here?”

“Yes. It was a big help having you go do the shopping while she’s got other things to go do. You were so fast, too!”

“Uhh... does she need help with anything else?”

“Mn-nh,” Sumi shook her head with a sing-song tone as she started unpacking and separating the food. “She said she’ll get it all sorted out and not to worry. Can you put this up there? None of us can reach.”

He had gotten used to Sumi, ever since that day in one of his recoveries when they discovered she had the same name as one of his little sisters. While he never saw her as a replacement, not even close, it was easy to look at her in a sisterly way.

“Thank you, you’re such a big help! I was surprised you didn’t join Muichiro-san to go visit the swordsmiths, though. Are you sure you aren’t lonely?”

“That’s alright. I was never close to anyone out there like he was.”

“Do you have other friends you want to visit?”

Genya paused. He paused hard.

Sumi regretted her choice of words. “I’m sorry. So many of them were lost…”

“Everyone I know best still happens to be here, that’s all. I’ve been on my own before. I’ll move out somewhere if I’m a bother.”

“Not at all! Not to me and Kiyo-chan and Naho-chan and Aoi-san. You can stay as long as you want. I didn't mean to say you're all alone. Were you close to everyone in your batch?”

“I guess… Maybe more than I thought,” he replied.

He had only ever talked to Tanjiro, but he couldn’t help but miss the times everyone spent together at Himejima’s training, even the way everything went haywire at his brother’s training felt like a fun time now. There had been one day over the past few weeks when Muichiro brought up Inosuke and Zenitsu, and by the way Nezuko reacted, it was like she could only remember those days with the same kind of vague fondness. The kind that they couldn't grasp, not in their memories and not ever. The way Nezuko met Genya’s eyes, and how she had that mix of joy and sadness in her voice, there was something there. There was some connection, telling each other they both ‘got it.’ It was like they both belonged to that batch, but neither were part of it in the same way as everyone else. Of that batch, they had only ever spoken much to Tanjiro. Being the last ones left to carry the memories didn’t feel like their place, but the strange load seemed easier if they carried it together.

After that first connection with Nezuko, Genya kept noticing it more. When Muichiro spoke in that light and familiar way about the other Pillars, the two of them could not. When other Corp members still being treated in the hospital were coached to use Breath technique to aid in healing, the two of them could make no sense of it. In all the world, maybe the person who understood him best was Nezuko. Like how Genya had forged a bond with Sumi, he wondered if he might attain the same in Nezuko too. Sibling-like, but never siblings. It would be an insult to their siblings’ memories to think they could fill those holes left over in each other’s hearts. Just like there would be no one to ever understand her feelings toward Tanjiro, no one would understand his own toward Sanemi.

‘You were supposed to go get married and settled down somewhere, have a bunch of kids and live to be an old man. You and your wife and kids were supposed to get everything I couldn’t give to our mom, or to our little brothers and sisters. There was no way I was ever going to let demons come and get in your way.’

Everyone always thought they had the best brother, and Nezuko’s was a contender. But no one was ever nicer than Sanemi. Genya’s brother had been the best in the whole world.

--

Kakushi were still a common sight in the Butterfly Mansion’s hospital, coming and going to get supplies and get the last of the Corp members in treatment back on their feet. They felt odd going around with their faces exposed and often wore cloth tied around their faces under the excuse of it being more sanitary, but one by one, they began leaving those reminders of their time in the Corp behind and confronting the world barefaced.

One day, the little girls all took pause, staring at a man who addressed them all familiarly. When at last he felt their stares, he glared, “It’s me. Gotou.”

“Gotou-san!?”

Another Kakushi with her face revealed for the first time slinked around the mansion, quietly following Tamayo’s instructions and fetching objects, until she at last she thought she found Himejima alone and meekly asked if he recognized her.

Initially, he did not. Her voice didn’t ring any bells, and since Kakushi were all good at hiding their presence, he had trouble telling them apart unless they introduced themselves by name. He was about to tell her that when something did feel familiar about her. “…Sayo?”

She broke down and apologized for how her words and branded him a child murderer all those years ago. She explained that she had tried to tell the adults that there was a demon, not that Himejima was a monster. She also told him that before they ran off, three of the other children said they were going to get weapons or go find help in the village. They had died because they didn’t want to leave their beloved Sensei defenseless. By the end of it, she was sobbing, and if it weren’t for how pitiful she sounded, Himejima would had sat there dumbfounded.

He patted her head, then smiled. Assured her he was alright, told her he was glad she was alive. He sent her on her way with good wishes. She bowed and thanked him and wished him well, then took her leave. Himejima took a deep sigh, but all was not quiet. The whole time he was talking with Sayo, he could tell there was a heart racing from behind the swinging door.

“You can come out now, Tamayo.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was stuck there.”

“She’ll be gone in a few minutes and then you go down the hall.”

Tamayo heard in his tone that he was asking her to hurry up and leave, and his expression spoke even louder. His face was flushed red and his nose would start leaking with tears first if he wasn't holding them in with Breath technique. Tamayo took his hands, the ones that had spent hours pounding one demon in order to save one child, and she held them tight a moment. “It was worth it, Himejima-san. Thank you for everything you’ve been through.”

He couldn’t contain himself any longer. To keep his wail from ringing through the whole estate, he pulled Tamayo close and buried his face against her apron, breathing out long and raw and hot and messy against her. It was cathartic, like making up for all the years he wept in silence.

--

Mitsuri had gotten a lot of time to sit around and ponder the things Iguro had told her.

She stayed cheerful and liked going outside to hang up laundry and she chatted away about mundane things when Shinobu gave her examinations, but her injuries kept her activity limited and Mitsuri didn’t want to trouble Shinobu with questions about the extent of her injuries. It was enough for Mitsuri she was alive and could do basic chores. Iguro’s care wasn’t difficult, just a lot of time-consuming routine. She volunteered for it, as after all, she’d already told everyone she was his bride.

More and more, she wondered if Iguro was choosing to stay asleep. A cheap way of backing out of a promise, for all those silly, silly reasons, none of which were ever his fault. The first thing he was going have to learn about his new bride was that she wasn’t always sweet if she had a reason to be angry with someone, and her heart was getting squeezed with kyun-kyun all over every time she thought about everything he said. That family who raised him made her so angry, even if she did hurt for them to hear they had all died. But it wasn’t Iguro’s fault, and it was a poor excuse for backing out of a promise!

She passed her quiet hours talking to Kaburamaru. “He’s utterly ridiculous,” she complained about her husband with puffed cheeks, which the snake responsed to only by flicking his tongue at her nose. “He’s so silly. He’s so serious. It’s so adorable that I can hardly stand it. Everything he told me made we want to hug him so tightly that I’d break him and it’s taking all my willpower to keep from doing it. I hope he appreciates the sacrifices I’m making for him!”

“Mitsuri-neesan?”

“Nezuko-chan!!” she beamed toward the door. “Come in, come in!!”

Nezuko slid open the door and came in her knees, carrying something tied up in a big cloth. “I finished it.”

“Did you? Let’s see, let’s see! Iguro-san, Iguro-san!" she nudged her comatose lover. "Nezuko-chan fixed your haori for you!”

“It was really hard to retain the pattern.”

“I’m sure you did a fine job, let’s see it!”

She unfurled it and held up a man’s haori by the shoulders. “Tada!”

“GEH!?!”

“Geh?”

“N-Nezuko-chan… that… that’s Tomioka-san’s haori.”

“Geeeeehhh!?” she shook it with horror. “I spent all those hours on the wrong haori?”

Mitsuri could hardly contain her giggles, though she tried to. “It’s alright… pfft!! You did wonderfully it. I’m sure it would make Tomioka-san happy.”

“My memories are still so jumbled. I’m sorry… this one stuck out so much in my mind that I didn’t even thinking twice about it. No one said anything, either… Iguro-san’s was the one with black stripes, wasn’t it? I don’t think that one was salvageable. I’m really sorry.”

Mitsuri didn’t want to admit she was disappointed, so she did not. “That’s alright. It wouldn’t be right for me to accept this beautiful work, though.”

“I wanted to give you something as a wedding gift,” frowned Nezuko, but then her face lit back up. “I’m sure there’s still enough of it to make a baby blanket, though!”

Mitsuri’s heart sank. “Or a coat for Kaburamaru!" she pushed a smile. "The weather is still chilly for him.”

“I can probably string together that much.”

“Thank you! I’m looking forward to it. Are you going to give this haori to the old man with the cute Tengu mask?”

“Hmm,” Nezuko observed it, “I’ll think on it. Urokodaki-san’s peculiar about his tastes.”

“It would be a shame if no one wears it. I was always curious, but I never did ask Tomioka-san why his haori had two halves. Maybe I should have talked to him more.”

“Me too. But I had a muzzle,” laughed Nezuko, before excusing herself.

The room felt cold after she left, and Mitsuri looked down to see only Kaburamaru’s tail sticking out from the collar of Iguro’s bed clothes. Iguro’s exposed lips were pale, and Mitsuri contemplated for the hundredth time in a day if she should kiss him and see if it would work to wake him up like it did in those fairy tales from overseas.

“Iguro-san,” she whispered, nuzzling her face against his ear. She slid her right hand around his arm, while her left hand draped over her hips and dangled at her bandaged belly. “After all we’ve survived, I know it would be unfair to ask more. The heavens must think I’m selfish for wanting it all. It’s enough for me to have you, as you are, in this life. Will you still have me as I am too? I may not be the bride I wish I could be for you. But even if it’s only me and Kaburamaru-kun, I promise we’ll be all the family you deserve.”

--

Muichiro was thrilled to bring back gifts for the Butterfly Mansion from his travels. He had a couple former Kakushi help him carry it. Although Gotou griped that this kid seemed to have no idea that the Corp was disbanded, Muichiro was so free-spirited in how he gave orders that anyone who remembered what he used to be like couldn’t help but obey. Nonetheless, Muichiro made sure to give the former Kakushi some credit as he personally gave every resident of the mansion and hospital some of the local fruits from the Swordsmith Village. Although Tamayo still found it difficult to eat most foods, she accepted the fruit Muichiro dropped in her hands. When he did so, however, he stared at her and fell silent.

“Are you alright, Muichiro-san?” she asked him.

“Your hair is really long.”

“Not as long as yours. Yours is very soft, too.”

“My mother had long hair.”

“I see. Was your mother perhaps…?”

“She got sick and died. Only my twin brother was killed by a demon.”

“I see. That’s terrible, it must had pained her not to see you two grow up,” she said, which Muichiro did not respond to. He slowly leaned his head left and right with his bandaged hand to his chin as he pondered something, and it all made Tamayo feel very awkward. Did he like her hair braided that much? She finally asked, “…Would you like a braid in your hair?”

“Can you?! Can you make it like Kanroji-san’s was? That would look really funny.”

As they set about making an attempt, Muichiro prattled on about what they could try doing with the others hair’ later, like giving Nezuko twin-tails like Aoi or seeing how many butterfly hairpins they could stick in Genya’s hair, enough that he might even take flight. Tamayo hardly found this age appropriate for him, but wondered if it might be for show. “You seem to be in very high spirits. Have you always been so imaginative?”

“Don’t know. For a while I never had many thoughts at all.”

“It can be tiring to pretend you’re fine. Even if you’re trying to keep others from worrying about you, it may catch up to you eventually. Please take care of yourself.”

“Pretending? I’m not,” he looked over his shoulder at her. “I already gave everyone a lot of reasons to worry about me back then. But now that I’ve picked myself back up, it’s hard to fall like that again,” he said, looking back up to the ceiling. “Learning to rebound is like learning another skill with a sword. I’m as sad as everyone else is about Oyakata-sama and Tanjiro and all the other friends we lost, but if this a strength that’s helpful to everyone now, I’m happy about that.”

Tamayo was stunned at herself for how she had misjudged his maturity and smiled. The braids didn’t turn out like either of them hoped, though.

--

Nezuko offered the haori to Urokodaki, but his reaction was complex. He was stiff like he was only accepting it to be polite. She didn’t want a gift to be a transactional burden, so she clutched back her hard work and asked Urokodaki whether he’d wear it or not.

“Not,” he replied.

“You don’t want something that belonged to Giyuu-san?”

“I like wearing my own haori. Besides, I knew Sabito, but never met Giyuu’s sister. It would be strange.”

“His sister?”

Thus, Urokodaki explained the haori, and how Giyuu had chosen to wear those two halves instead of taking the clouds and waves one which Urokodaki offered him.

Nezuko nodded, then asked, “Who is Sabito-san?”

“Did Tanjiro not tell you about him? He wrote to you about him for six months.”

“My brother wrote letters to me?” she gasped.

“Your brother didn’t keep the haori I gave him either. I have all those letters saved, I should give them to you. They’re from when he was training and you were sleeping.”

“I do want those letters. I really want them a lot.”

“I’ll bring them, then. You know, Shinjuro’s boy Senjuro mentioned he kept all his letters from Tanjiro too, I’ll bet he’d show them to you.”

“Would he? Oh, I hope so! I’ll have to visit and ask!”

“While I’m stopping back to the mountain, I still have that extra haori. I’ll pick it up for—”

“Yes, it would be a waste for a good haori not to get worn!” she agreed, twirling Giyuu’s through the air and over her shoulders, then passing her arms through the sleeves. It had a lose fit on her, but she kept it pulled close. Maybe she had never met Tsutako or Sabito, but she had met Giyuu and would always be indebted to him. Giyuu even cared so much about Tanjiro that he held his hand as he died; he got to him before Nezuko could.

Giyuu-san, she addressed him in her mind, Thank you for spending his last human moments with him.

Nezuko went straight back to the Butterfly Mansion, and found Genya strolling around the garden. “Genya-san! I need to go to Setagaya, will you be my escort!?”

“Setagaya? Right now?”

Muichiro appeared out of nowhere. “Setagaya? Are you visiting the Rengoku estate?”

“Would you like to go too? We can all three go together!”

“What happened to your hair?” asked Genya, is eyes narrowed at Muichiro.

“I’d love to leave an offering for Rengoku-san.”

“Then let’s go!”

“No. I don’t know him--” refused Genya.

“Neither do I!” laughed Nezuko, and she and Muichiro dragged Genya along.

Once there, Muichiro announced them all and requested with ease—authority, even—that Shinjuro prepare the family alter room for them to offer their greetings, and that Senjuro show them the letters he kept from Tanjiro. Although Shinjuro and Senjuro were easily accepting of these sudden orders from unexpected guests, Muichiro found Genya and Nezuko tense and quiet. “What’s the matter with you two? I thought you wanted to come?”

“I was dragged. And we don’t have any room to talk like that, we weren’t Pillars…”

“We were demons,” chuckled Nezuko, adding to Genya’s point.

“Ha! I almost was too,” Muichiro pointed to himself. “Nobody’s a Pillar now though, not now that the Corp’s gone. That might make Rengoku-san sad,” he said, looking around the room at all the shelves of Flame Pillar diaries and sword manuals.

“It’s not as if it never happened,” said Nezuko. “The bonds and feelings we shared were eternal... nothing could tear them apart." She fell quiet a moment, certain she hear Tanjiro say those words. That much she could be certain of. Other than that, it was spotty. When she tried to remember faces, sometimes all she saw were flowers.

"My mind was fuzzy so I don’t remember everyone well, but I had this sense that everyone around me was my family.”

“A bunch of orphans,” added Genya, “clamoring for what family they could.” He couldn’t remember many of them either, but it was his own choice to keep his distance.

Muichiro, with memories just as lacking, went on. “It would had been nice to see everyone like family sooner. It’s not too late for that now, though, is it? I feel like my brother would be groaning at me from heaven to hear this, but if Oyakata-sama saw us all as his children, then I’d like to think of everyone in the Corp as my brothers and sisters, too. That wouldn’t be too strange, would it?”

Genya scrunched his face. “It’s a nice thought and all, but I never wanted any other siblings. I still don’t. Even if it’s nice to find new people who feel like family, it’s never going to make the siblings I lost come back.���

“Of course not. They’re irreplaceable,” Nezuko said, clutching Giyuu’s haori closer around herself. “But so was everyone else, too.”

Muichiro studied their faces a moment, then proposed, “What’s to stop us from honoring the fallen Corp members the same way we do our old siblings? For most of them, we may be all they have left. Maybe the three of us never knew them that well, but between the three of us, we can do our best.”

Genya sat up straighter, curious. “Like visiting all their graves?”

“That would be a good start.”

“That’s a good idea, Muichiro-san! We may never know how many of them already thought of us like family, and how many of them protected us. They may be watching over us, too, and that means we have to go on living in a way that will bring them joy. We should start here with Rengoku-san.”

“Right in front of his real little brother, you mean?”

“True,” she smiled wistfully, while her heart stung with sympathy for Senjuro and an echo of the words, ‘---Nothing will break the bond between me and Nezuko---!!’ rang through her mind again. “Nothing would ever overshadow their bond. Besides, Rengoku-san was someone who wouldn’t mind looking out for more of his juniors, I think. I’m sure he’d be happy to have us visit.”

When the altar room was prepared for guests, they lit incense and folded their hands in prayer, and then joined Senjuro back in the guest room with the refreshments he prepared. Then they opened the box of Tanjiro’s letters to read together. His writings were rich and detailed and they all felt they could hear Tanjiro’s voice narrating his struggles to train and get stronger, his concerns for those around him and how much he enjoyed the nice new encounters he had. When Zenitsu and Inosuke were mentioned, Nezuko, Genya, and Muichiro alike lit up and laughed and agreed that every antic Tanjiro wrote about sounded just like something those two would do, and Senjuro, who stayed nearby, found himself laughing alongside them.

In the following days, Nezuko, Genya, and Muichiro began the long process of leaving flowers at every grave. When they reached Giyuu’s, Nezuko took extra care, asking Giyuu to take care of Tanjiro on the other side.

--

Deep in the night, Iguro was awake, but he could hardly tell with how still he had been and how bandages and new scars kept him from opening his eyes. He had to question if he was alive at all, so he listened to his other senses.

First there was the pulse from his heart through his capillaries, a pathway he could track well with the focus Breath Technique gave him. He felt new scar tissues throughout his body, but he was healed enough to built an accurate understanding of how much mobility he had.

Kaburamaru’s scales were smooth down the right side of his neck; the snake’s head must had been nestled at his sternum.

To his right there was a sweet smell, and an even stir of air against his oldest scars. There was the sound of a second human heartbeat in the room, close to him, and warmth along his left side.

When he turned his head, his nose bumped another nose. Staying so close and quiet that he could feel the course of each Breath she took, he had an understanding of where her lips were. They were so close and warm that he couldn’t help wanting to feel them against his own, just this once.

It would had been a perfect moment to die.

The moment ended when she drew in a sharp gasp and sat up. “I-I-I-Iguro-san!! No! Sleep kisses!?”

Now he really wished he could die. “I’m sorry! I never should had—”

“You didn’t mind sleep kisses after all!? I had been holding back all this time because I thought you’d be sad if I took our first one all for myself!”

“I never should had taken one at all. I’m sorry,” he said, sitting up and throwing the blanket off himself to get away, anywhere, but she caught him by the wrist. For her, it was not a strong grip, but to Iguro it was an iron stake which grounded him to the futon. “Try to forget this happened," he insisted to her. "I can't believe myself. I can’t believe how loose my lips are when they aren’t covered, what with how I keep burdening you like this. If you’re still alive to find happiness, then you should. It’s because I would hate to see you with another man that I must had been blinded, so please feel free. I truly wish you the best—”

“Iguro-san--” “With my whole heart, I want you to be happy.”

“Iguro-san!” she yanked him back, making him stumble closer. With his hand still in her control, she placed it against her cheek. “You’re being ridiculous.”

His fingers, accustomed to the managed flesh of his own face, recognized the touch of skin that would never return, and at his fingertips, he felt for the lobe of an ear no longer there. “Kanroji,” he choked. At least part of his left eye must had worked, because the bandages got wet with tears.

“No one else will ever, ever take me as a bride. Muzan tore me apart inside and out. I may never get any better than this,” she said forcefully.

Maybe Iguro had always loved how she tried to stay cheerful and hide her toils and training, but this blinded man needed her more in the darkness.

“Did you know?" she asked. "I had another chance to marry someone once. I turned him down because he only saw me with dyed hair and an empty stomach. What I always wanted was a husband who would know me as I am, the good parts and the bad. Thank you for showing me that in you, too.”

“Kanroji…”

“If we both have bad parts, then they deserve each other! But that means the good in us deserves each other, too. You were always good to me, keeping me company at meals and chatting with me. Being with you always made me happiest. I love you! But Iguro-san, you made me really mad.”

“Hm?”

She overpowered him, pulling him stumbling forward. The next thing he knew they bumped foreheads, and her Breath ran hot across his face. “A promise is a promise. You said you’d make me the happiest bride. I’m not forgiving you anymore for that, okay?”

His heart squeezed ‘kyun’ as she stole a kiss back.

--

With Iguro more consistently awake, his treatment and check-ups went smoothly. Though he found it off-putting being treated by a former demon woman, he made sure to be on good behavior, especially once Himejima explained that Tamayo’s medicine was close to fully reversing the effect of the mark. As unlikely as such a thing ever felt before, that meant that he, Himejima, Kanroji, and Tokito could all look forward to potentially long, healthy lives, limited only by their injuries.

Having no mark had never stopped Pillars before them, though. Whatever they were left with or not had always been up to fate. Fate rarely had respect for personal choice in who it spared.  

"Hey. Kochou."

She looked up from her desk where she was idling with medicines and found a familiar face outside her second story window. "Uzui-san?"

"Do you have the paperwork?"

"What paperwork?" she put on her old smile out of habit.

"The school paperwork. Kiriya-sama worked some connections and got me registration as a Japanese citizen. I got a stamp now, too. See?"

"Congratulations."

"Hand them over. I'll get it all sorted out, one mom each."

"I haven't the slightest clue what you're talking about."

"The school papers!" he grew more frustrated. "The ones they wouldn't accept from Kanzaki without the girls' family records. The ones to put them in a normal school building with other normal little girls, the paperwork that says they need normal parents!"

"Huh?!" she stood up.

"Oh, sit back down. We're too flamboyant to be normal parents, I know, you don’t need to act so shocked,” he rolled his eye with disgust on the word ‘normal.’ “Be more grateful, would you? This’ll just solve that fussy paperwork issue I overheard, it not as if we're kidnapping them."

"..."

"Don't give me that look, I put that one back! Anyway, Kiriya-sama was surprised you didn’t come talk to him about it yourself, you know. Kanzaki's probably still got the papers so I'll go find her."

With that he disappeared, and Shinobu's mind hashed about this new information. Putting the girls in school? Who ever decided that? Was this something Kiriya had decided? It didn't seem like something he'd do. Did Kiyo, Sumi, and Naho even want to attend school? At their age, Shinobu did, so maybe... but she had never asked them. In all this time they never had a complaint about working in the mansion and hospital, but... how well did Shinobu even know them?

It a took a few hours to find Aoi. Shinobu thought to right away, but she made the wiser choice to wait. Kanae would never had wanted her to react to anything in anger, as anger was rarely the solution to Shinobu’s real problems. Kanae was right; a lot of good the anger had done her for four years, what with how fate had Pig Assaulted Shinobu’s chosen course.

“Aoi.”

“A-a--h!! Shinobu-sama!!” Aoi was so badly startled that she dropped the papers. Her glance darted straight to the floor as she gathered them.

"And these are?"

“I was just bringing these to you to talk about. I had no idea Uzui-san would tell you about it first. I already declined his offer. In the first place I didn’t think you’d accept, and in the second place, he has no understanding of how legal family registry works. I don’t think it will be an issue, though. I already looked into everything—”

“Let’s go talk in my room.”

“...Alright.”

When Aoi stepped inside, she was tense and formal as she kneeled at the low table, where she arranged the papers into three stacks, one for Kiyo, one for Naho, one for Sumi. Shinobu knew what they were with a glance.

Aoi explained, “Guardianship is only a formality. Kiriya-sama doesn’t think that will be difficult to arrange.”

“Do they know about this?”

“Kiyo-chan and the others, you mean? Yes. I don’t remember how it came up one day, but when I mentioned it might be possible for them to attend school, they all liked the idea. I didn’t see any reason you’d be opposed, so I didn’t want to trouble you with the fussy details. It’s only a normal neighborhood elementary school, but if you’d like me to look into private schools…”

“How long did this take?”

“To get the paperwork? Not very long, but it was frustrating getting in touch with the right people. You can leave that all to me, though, Shinobu-sama.”

“Aoi… can you stop calling me that?”

“Hm?”

“It feels so cold.”

Aoi’s face bent oddly, like she’d lost control of her features. “I’ve been calling you that for over six years, though,” she said through a smile and twisted brows.

“That’s why it’s odd, isn’t it? Neesan and I brought you in long before anyone else. If anyone ever had a right to be called one of my own sisters, it’s you.”

“That—it’s not like—I was never supposed to be here so long, Once I wound up staying here longer, I was always sure I was the last person to ever deserve that.”

“Because you were useless as a swordsman. Because you were weaker than boys out there on the battlefield, and because demons frightened you?”

“…”

“You think I don’t relate?”

“Shinobu-sama, that’s not the same. You still always found a way to fight. I know it may not feel like it, but you accomplished so much! We’re all still so proud of you—”

“Thinking all those things about yourself always made you discount all the hard work you’ve done. The Butterfly Mansion is what it is because of you. You’re not a caretaker to the little girls, you’re their home. And you’re mine, too.”

“Shinobu… sama…”

Shinobu knelt beside Aoi with a box, and as she revealed its contents, Aoi’s eyes went wet and shiny with tears. She hadn’t seen that hairpin Kanae and Kanao both wore ever since Shinobu put it away. “We all have always seen you as a sister. The mansion doesn’t need a caretaker. It needs someone who cares. As the heart of this house, I think everyone would want you to wear this.”

Aoi was too flushed and choked to say anything, and she relented as Shinobu guided her to turn around so she could fix her hair. By the time she finished, Aoi had rubbed her tears away five or six times from each eye and had given up trying to hide her sniffles.

“Thank you,” she finally managed.

Shinobu smiled. She knew Aoi more than anyone would treasure this piece of Kanae and Kanao.

Abruptly, Aoi’s face went wide and blank. “Wait here. I have something to give you, too.” Just as quickly, her footsteps pounded out the room, and Shinobu was left terribly amused and curious.

She looked at the paperwork while she waited. Even if she never saw herself as a parent, guardianship was a simple matter to fix. It was silly of Aoi to be so frenzied about it to have bothered Kiriya. The sound of Aoi’s footsteps returned, and when she appeared in the doorway, Shinobu’s eyes shot straight to the boar mask in her hands.

Shock and maybe even disgust must had been written all over her face, for Aoi was quick to say that she knew Shinobu didn’t like furry animals but Aoi had cleaned this mask as well as she could. Repaired it too, done everything she always wanted to do to that mangy thing that surely Inosuke would have never given her the chance to. Shinobu asked why in the world she had it. As she recalled, Kanao had grabbed it before they escape the Infinity Fortress, but in all the wreckage…

“Kanao asked a Kakushi to take care of it before she went into battle against Muzan. It seems it got passed around in the aftermath, but it got brought it here a few days later, before you woke up. I’d been keeping it safe in my room ever since. From what I understand, I think Inosuke-san would want you have it. He had his own strange way of showing it, but he was very fond of you.”

Why would she ever want such a hideous gift? He kept Pig Assaulting his way around long after he was gone, that Inosuke. So bossy, too; she could imagine him order her to take it. Shinobu couldn’t contain a smile as she accepted it. “It seems he marked me as his own. I’ll have to take good care of it for him.”

--

Nezuko, Muichiro, and Genya often stayed away from the mansion for several days at a time together, for their visits to the graves might run so long that they stayed over visiting with the Ubuyashiki children, and other times they went out to visit other surviving Corp members. None of them had any recollection of a guy named Murata, but with how often the others talked about him, he must had been well-loved and respected.

The first ones ready to move out of the Butterfly Mansion and hospital were Mitsuri and Iguro, who were ready to go move into her family home a while as they continued to recover. As she was about to give medical clearance, Tamayo asked Iguro to sit and be patient as she removed the bandages. He expected that to be that, and in addition to accepting the weirdness of having a wife who knew his past and loved him despite it, he would just have to get used to the weirdness of his full face exposed, but then something odd began to happen. There was a fuzzy whiteness, and then spots of pink, and then green.

“Dearest?” asked Mitsuri.

He stuck out his hand. That was her face. He could see her face! Not in detail, he couldn't make out her moles, but he knew where they were anyway, and he could see her!

As the reason for his smile dawned on her, Mitsuri laughed with joy, then starting crying, holding Iguro close enough that she could kiss his left eye, which had a scar running over but not through it. He started crying too, too humbled by good fortune, whereas Tamayo stood to the side.

This entire interaction was awkward to witness, especially if neither husband nor wife had any clue that his eye had been spared. Maybe she should had said something, but she had no idea how deeply these two had already braced for a worse outcome, so it had not even crossed her mind to correct them. When Mitsuri’s family came to collect them, she simply wished the young couple well and saw them on their way.

Himejima was good condition, though he had trouble getting around without someone helping him. They tried canes, but he broke them all. He was seeming antsy to get out of the Butterfly Mansion crawling with hyper little girls, all ecstatic about going to school soon, and he was grouchy when Genya wasn’t around. He said it was because Genya made the most reliable human cane.

Shinobu knew he was just trying to cover up how much more at ease he felt in Genya’s company. This brought out her stubbornness, and she tried to prove Himejima’s point was moot by serving as his human cane herself, but they made it about two steps before they were both flat on the floor. Shinobu was more careful about overestimating her own strength after that. Aoi, Tamayo, and Nezuko had no such troubles, but none of them had filled their bodies with poison or popped their lungs either. Muichiro liked simply offering his head to Himejima and walking next to him without offering a hand, for as he enjoyed pointing out, he didn’t have one to spare.

While the children were out on the mission to visit every grave and survivor, it usually fell to Tamayo to be Himejima’s caretaker, and though he insisted he only needed mobility assistance, he stayed in her company voluntarily. They liked each other’s subdued presence. To Tamayo, he was like a rock of support while Shinobu, whom she had hoped to befriend, was on shaky ground. As Shinobu had seemed to find her footing again as of late, both Tamayo and Himejima felt more assured in departing from the Butterfly Mansion.

It was around sunset when the trio returned one evening, and Tamayo smiled to hear them. “I’d like to see those children grow up,” she said to Himejima as she smiled in their direction.

It was as though the only thing waiting was for someone to put words to fate, and it happened one day when Nezuko took Tamayo’s hands in her own and said she didn’t want to be parted from her. Soon after, the final guests of the Butterfly Mansion all left, but only after congratulating Kiyo, Sumi, and Naho on their first day of school. When they all lined up in the courtyard and said their goodbyes until the next time they’d visit, Tamayo placed her hand on Shinobu’s cheek, telling her how much her smile became her.

--

Several months went by. With everyone’s help, but especially big, strong Genya’s help, the old Kamado house was fixed up and cleaned.

Muichiro was excited to learn how to make charcoal, especially since he was the son of a woodsman anyway, but someone else would have to do the chopping for him now. The ‘someone’ he had in mind was Genya. In addition to selling their amateurish charcoal, they also made money selling Tamayo’s medicines and Nezuko’s sewing projects. The person who usually made the journey up and down the mountain to serve as the house’s merchant was Genya. Himejima helped out with chores but usually stayed entertained with Chachamaru.

When Nezuko wasn’t busy around the house, she often read and reread Tanjiro’s letters, to the point she had nearly memorized them and felt the need to put them away until a day her heart would need them afresh. She also had the wills of fallen Corp members in which she and Tanjiro were mentioned, as the Ubuyashiki children had copied those parts for her, though Kiriya kept the originals. While it touched her to have so many people care about her, she still had to push herself to dig through her demon memories for any semblance of their faces, so reading those wills taxed her mind.

It left her antsy and wanting for something different, though she didn’t know what.

“Chun! Chun, chun!”

A sparrow? There was one right across from her, and it spoke right at her. “Hello,” she said to it, expecting it to fly away.

“Chun!”

“Were you perhaps a Kasugai-suzume?”

“Chun! Chun-chun-chun,” it beckoned her to follow, and she did.

“You were busy, you say? What were you doing? Collecting things? That’s very nice. And you’ve finished now? You seem very proud of yourself, little sparrow!”

“CAAAW!! WE’RE THE ONES THAT HAD TO CARRY IT ALL!!!” came another voice from in the trees.

She looked up to the branches and wondered what that crow must have meant, and then she looked back to the forest floor, where the sparrow perched on an enormous stack of papers. Some were well-bound, but most of it was scraps.

“What is all this?” she asked.

“Chun!”

As requested, she took the first paper off the stack and read it. “The Legend of Zenitsu? I’ve never heard of this story. Is this all for me?”

“Chun!”  

“I’m delighted,” she smiled. As dandelions rose to her mind, she looked up at the sky with a sigh, grateful all over again for the peaceful life she had ahead to enjoy.

[Continued and concluded in Part 3. It's short. I promise.]

[More doodles were later added here.]

How would the aftermath of a "fateswap" of the final battle play out? As in every hero who died in the Infinity Fortress raid/Muzan fight in canon lives while those who lived in the canon dies instead. So Shinobu, Genya, Mitsuri, Iguro, Himejima, and Muichiro survive while Tanjiro, Zenitsu, Inosuke, Kanae, Giyuu, and Sanemi die. I guess Nezuko would still be alive because she didn't participate.

Anon... how dare.

There were so many moments when I was first contemplating this when I realized new bereavements and verbalized a sharp "NO!!" at each one; and for the sake of seeing how it plays out, I had to write it. I tried to keep it short by only writing the key developments but now it's a very, very, very choppy series of odd interactions, and I must bring it to you in multiple parts. That's your first warning. As your second warning, we have angst ahead, so much angst. And while I though this would turn into an Angst & Fluff piece, no, we have bypassed fluff and gone straight to sap. This is the Ask response equivalent of violently hacking a tree to pieces so that I can offer you maple syrup. Here, I hope you like it. Careful, there are probably splinters in it.

--- [Note: This post will be momentarily edited with links to all the parts.] Part 1: The Fates are Swapped ---

Shinobu's lung was punctured, she could still fight, and she did, impressing Douma with how she put enough strength in her legs to force him all the way to the ceiling. The strongest dose of poison her sword could pack punctured the vital spot in his neck, and despite how his features were melting, the ends of his mouth twisted with a smile. "How amazing. You worked so hard,” he cooed. Gravity wanted to take both her and her sword back, but he stopped her close with clammy hands and clawed fingers. "You're worthy for me to eat."

When at last she thought she saw her end and the beginning of her victory, the ceiling cracked wider and a fur-covered foot pounded through. "No way in hell I'm going to let you touch Shinobu!"

The next thing she knew, her face was slashed by the tips of two rough swords, tearing from her brows, over her nose, and down to her cheeks with crossing injuries. It stung like hell, and the next thing she knew she was in free fall. At the same moment as a splashing sound, she was submerged in icy waters; it was filling the hole in her lung, quick...

--

"Sure does suck to die alone."

After having taunted Muzan's underling, Yushiro scooped up the whiny demon slayer and brought him to a flat surface. Try as he might to stop them with anti-Blood Technique medicine, those burns kept cracking and spreading even after that demon was dead; he really must had hated this guy to have that much ill will focused against him. 

Zenitsu's eyes flitted open, then locked on Yushiro. "The demon woman you love... she's in trouble."

Yushiro’s whole body flinched tight, from his pupils down his spine. "I know."

"You have to... go to her."

"And leave you after what I just said to that guy? I'd be a liar."

"I'm not… alone," he struggled out. Like another strike of lightning in a storm, the burn in his cheek crackled up to his eye, filling it with blood. "Jiichan... said he's proud of me. ...Go."

--

Yushiro had not meant to defy Tamayo's wishes, but if there was one time in his life he was going to, this was it. Tamayo had not expected such a betrayal either when she was ripped apart from Muzan. At last separated from that man swallowing her up, her cells instantly set to work repairing themselves, and she already had most of her limbs back before she looked around and had a sense of what happened. Her returning hand was empty; the medicine must had still been inside of Muzan. Then, up there by Muzan's face, there was Yushiro with his hands digging into the screaming flesh.

"Yushiro! What are you doing there! You said you would treat the injured slayers!"

"That was a joke. I'm not leaving you alone to him, Tamayo-sama, he doesn't deserve any of your cells."

"Who are you!” Muzan yammered blindly. “I don’t recognize you! You're made from Tamayo's cells!"

"Leave him to me, Yushiro, I came here expecting to fight him myself."

Yushiro ignored Muzan's screams and dropped a vial of medicine out of his pocket to the floor in front of Tamayo. "I know. Treat yourself with this first."

She took it off the floor and stabbed her own thigh with it, expecting it to give her the strength to stand again and fight, but instead she felt prickly and weak all over. "Yushiro!" she took an angry tone.

"That was a better joke, wasn't it?"

"Where--did you--did you get this?"

"I ran into Shinobu's Tsuguko on the way here, and I knew she had an extra. It was a fair exchange, I gave her papers to go find her master. You should take cover while the medicine takes effect, Tamayo-sama. Leave Muzan to me," he said, ignoring how his hands were already missing down to the elbows, "I'll make him feel and regret everything he’s put you through."

--

"Shihan!"

That was Kanao’s voice. Shinobu gasped as she was pulled from the water, and then the back of her skull thumped with against a wooden platform, breaking the butterfly hairpiece with a snap. She tried to cough but was soon to lose consciousness again. Kanao’s silhouette was blurry above her. 

"I have to go help Inosuke, he's not going to last much longer alone. Please pull through!"

--

“AAH!!”

"Stay here. We'll see later... what demon you turn to..."

With his own Nichirin blade seared through the socket of his shoulder; now Muichiro’s one full arm was going to be stuck at partial mobility. He struggled and struggled to reach the handle, but he couldn't. That left him pulling the blade, leaving that one remaining hand cut wide open and bloody all through the palm. He screamed as he pulled himself free, then hit the floor with a smack. 

He got over to Genya, who needed assistance pushing himself back together, whereas Sanemi was already long gone in ongoing battle. Muichiro had witnessed everything, though, and amidst their discussion of what to do to get themselves back into the fight, Muichiro couldn't help but smile. "You two reached an understanding, didn't you?"

"I guess, yeah. More or less."

"I get it. Brothers don’t always say what they mean until the last moment. Can you stand? We need to hurry and go help him."

--

In the changing courses of the Infinity Fortress, and already disoriented with how her head spun, Tamayo would had been crushed by wall zooming by had a girl with pink hair not grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the way. "That was close! Are you alright? WAH!!" her rescuer said and then fell backwards out of a window. Tamayo tried to stand, but whether it was the rumbling or the medicine, she could not. She’d have tipped over sideways into an abyss, but she was caught in the enormous arms of the Rock Pillar. 

"Himejima-san...” she said as she held her head and settled to her knees, “You should be fighting... leave me, you should be fighting!"

"And you shouldn't be here like this, it's dangerous. You've done enough."

"No, I have to--" she started, but he ran through the next open door. 

--

"A mark... but being over the age of 25... I predict you'll die tonight..."

"You think I didn't come prepared for that?" Himejima replied to the demon as he gave his spiked ball spin. With the mark, it spun with more ease than he had ever felt capable of before. It would be an honor to die on the same night as Oyakata-sama, if only he could bring Muzan's head as an offering.

--

Amidst the flashing and shattering and huge icy splashes all around her, Shinobu could barely stay conscious, but the sound that startled her eyes back awake was a THUD next to her. She turned her head, and there was Inosuke, covered in ice patches and the lashes of his eyelids all closed against each other like a delicate princess in slumber.

Inosuke was never one to look so peaceful. 

--

"CAAAAW!! AGATSUMA ZENITSU!! HASHIBIRA INOSUKE!!! DEAD!!!!!"

Tanjiro’s eyes filled with tears before he processed that he had even heard a crow caw. When the realization caught up to his mind not even a second later, he felt all the Breath knocked clear out of his stomach. 

"aa.. aaaa--!!"

"Keep going!" Giyuu caught him by the arm and pulled him to keep running. "It's up to you to keep their sacrifices from being in vain."

The hot tears and snot flowed down the back of Tanjiro’s throat; even after all the grueling losses he had suffered, Tanjiro couldn't believe he would never see those two again. It didn't feel real. He wanted so bad to believe that they would come running to join him in this final battle. 

--

"A-aaa-Anikiii!! Ahhh!!!"

Genya could hardly manage words, only screams came to his lips; there was so much he wanted to say. He couldn’t even cradle Sanemi's head without Himejima's help, for he was so shook that his trembling hands were going to make Sanemi fall apart. Sanemi was nearly in pieces from that blow he took from Kokushibo. 

The demon was at last dead thanks to Muichiro's white blade having burned bright Red to take the head off once and for all, but now Muichiro was shaky and white from blood loss. It was hard to see any of Sanemi's face, for all the gushing gore he was covered in. His eyes were unfocused on the ceiling, but his hands found Genya's, and he gave him the clear vials of oil in his pockets. "Take these to Muzan," he said, clasping his hands around his brothers' with the last of his strength, "Fuck him up."

"Nii... Niichaaaan!!"

---

Genya was ready to let the world burn, had Himejima not ordered him to get a grip. His master was right, Genya wasn't going to be able to do anything to honor Sanemi if he didn't calm down. Maybe he could never be calm enough to use Breath, but he could use Repetitive Action to collect his focus.

It was right after that when Himejima warned him not to try eating Muzan, for Tamayo had used a medicine on him which might affect Genya too. Neither Genya nor Muichiro had ever heard of the Corp working with a demon besides Nezuko, but after all they had already been through, they were quick to accept the shock. When they found their way to the battle, Mitsuri was already down.

-- 

Iguro had told her she'd done enough, but what she knew he meant was, 'stay alive.' How could she live with herself if this was all she had done to help? Especially after all those swordsmen laid down their lives placing their hope in her!

'Saving the weak is the responsibility of those born strong…,' the voice of her former master rang with a deep timbre through her mind. 'Kanroji, you may even have the strength to one day surpass me as a swordsman!'

"Rengoku…san..."

‘…above all, you have a heart filled with great love!’

"Kanroji-sama, please let me treat your--"

"I have to go... I have to go protect every precious person left!"

She meant that, and it shot power back through her limbs. Her collar bone burned bright with a mark, and her speed and healing increased. It might take away from her life span, but for now, all that mattered was this last hour before daylight! 

She joined the fight with Iguro and Tanjiro, whipping her sword and following Tanjiro's lead in flailing the swords of their fallen comrades. Being hit with a zapping attack that made her body all clench up with electricity until Muichiro swooped in to make it stop. She had dropped her sword somewhere, but she still had her blessedly strong muscles. She caught Muzan's arm and screamed at him as she ripped it off, but that left her defenseless as a claw ripped across her belly. 

'Not my womb!' she cried out in her mind, but on her second thought as she went down, she chided herself for still clinging to old dreams. 

--

"Iguro-san... Ah! It hurts! It hurts!!"

"I'm here. I'll hold you until the pain is gone."

"But you're... you're hurt too... I don't want you to die!"

What did his pain matter? The ache in his chest as he heard her suffer was worse than any of his open wounds. "I don’t think either of us have long. If you’ll allow me to run my mouth, do you remember the day we first met?”

She swallowed hard before answering. “I was lost in Oyakata-sama’s mansion, and you helped me…”

“No. It was the other way around. I was the one saved by the sight of you, a normal girl whose laugh rang pure like a bell at the lightest thing, who didn’t let anyone feel how hard she must had trained to become a Pillar. Talking with you made me feel like a normal boy, it made me happy. I’m sure your brightness and kindness has saved the hearts of many, but Kanroji, I promise you, if you'll have me... in our next lives, I will make you the happiest bride."

As she sobbed and accepted, he wondered if he deserved to say such a thing while still pouring with unclean blood all over her. But he'd be cleansed of that blood soon enough, and he felt cleaner for having told her how he felt. 

-- 

"Please, treat the other children. It's too late for me."

"Himejima-sama," cried the Kakushi and swordsmen next to him, but the Insect Pillar, with open wounds across her face and her hair a loose mess, coughed and gurgled.

"No! I've stopped the bleeding, you're--guh--you're going to pull through!"

"I had the mark. It'll kill me shortly."

"Not if-g'huh--ghh-guh—not if I can help it!"

"Shinobu-san, stand aside. You're in no condition to focus on anyone but yourself."

She looked over, stunned at the sight of Tamayo in the sunlight, but Himejima was the one to speak. "Where's Yushiro?"

Her face twisted to a complicated grimace. "He made a bad joke. The foolish child..."

--

"Tomioka-san, please let us treat your wounds--"

"Where's Tanjiro?"

"Tomioka-san--"

They couldn't keep him from noticing the boy kneeling still, head drooped and uniform bloody all over. Giyuu’s tears welled up faster than the blood guzzling to his mouth. "Tanjiro..."

With the help of the Kakushi he teetered and swayed over, then collapsed to his knees in front of him. There were two Kakushi at Tanjiro's sides, and behind him, Genya held up Muichiro. Giyuu’s vision was narrowing, he had to feel his way around for Tanjiro’s hand, still clenching the sword which had at last defeated Muzan. “I couldn’t protect you either… I’m sorry… at least… this time we’ll go together…”

Giyuu’s forehead fell against Tanjiro’s.

Morning came to a quiet lull. Everyone was sniffling, but not Genya. He was silent and dumbfounded, tears streamed down his face as he kept watching as though waiting for Tanjiro to get up and turn around and smile. He wasn’t sure how long he stared, with Muichiro getting heavier and heavier to hold upright, but all of a sudden, Muichiro flinched.

“Tanjiro!?”

--

Shinobu’s hands hit the ground so hard that it made her wrists hurt, and she coughed so forcefully that she thought she might had already taken her last Breath several minutes ago. What good was she doing still alive, if she was stuck against the ground with all her poison blood going everywhere without doing a lick of good? That should had been her shoulder stuffed into Tanjiro’s mouth, not Nezuko’s! After all that effort to save her, she was going to die over there like that. Muichiro and Himejima were at their limits, and for all Shinobu could tell, Mitsuri and Iguro and Giyuu were all dead.

She noticed Kanao’s boots scraping across the ground out of the corner of her eye. She looked up to find her Tsuguko, her sister, letting go of her stomach injury and reaching for her sword.

“He’s barely turned… there’s still time…”

“K—uhh!—Ngh!!”

“…if the strike hits perfectly!!”

-- -- __

[To be continued in Part 2, link will be added shortly. Please refrain from reblogging until all the links are added.]

[clarkeryan17writing-blog]

Lost and Confused

I think I am writing this as a way to remember what I am currently describing as a most painful journey, so I am looking at this as a little bit of cathartic reflectiveness. The newly qualified social worker in me recoils, as for the last four years we are taught the importance of reflective writing, yet I paid no head to it.  Often working under pressure and hoping that my near accuracies of events that have transpired are in fact, fact, rather than mere conjecture. However this will be interpreted, I am doing this for me, because right now I am struggling to make sense of this life. Quite simply, I am confused and if I am completely honest, totally lost.  

If I cast my mind back, the problems began back in May.  Some of the family were in attendance at my baby cousin’s holy communion.  My aunt had expressed that she had felt unwell when out celebrating for her younger daughter’s recent nuptials a couple of days prior to this event.  They had been out for dinner and as a fan of food (like most of my family are) my aunt tried something new, however her night ended early as she felt unwell.  My aunt blamed the food (as most of us do when we try something new) and put it down to experience, rather than something sordidly medical.   I wonder, was it then it began? Was it the food? Or is this just something I am fixated on. Would it have made a difference if she had been checked then? Or was it already too late.  Answers to these questions, I am destined to forever ponder over, without any answers. The joys of an over analytical mind and the curse of an anxiety led mess.

Anyways, I digress. Today my aunt was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer and I feel so fucking angry that I could quite easily walk away from everything I have built in the last four years and not even blink an eye.  The angel of death and I have danced together rhythmically over the years, with he or she systematically removing many of the people that I have loved and still love dearly to this day.  I have seen death, I have been moved and forever altered by it.  I have endured addiction and lost years as a result of loss, I have allowed it to consume every fibre of my being.  I have been consciously, unconscious, feeling nothing, yet everything.  I have shut myself down and shut others out to protect myself from feeling anything at all. However, becoming a social worker changed my perspective and allowed me to become a better human being, it allowed me to develop and understand my behaviours and look for resolution, rather than perpetual self-harm and self-loathing.  

As much as that built up resilience has allowed me to endure and face hardship.  Right now, I feel like a loose cannon, ready to go off.  I am off tangent and eerily numb.  I could easily lose myself in the past. Diagnosis, doesn’t always mean dying right?  I look at my other aunt, who is coming through treatment, and she is doing okay. This, I don’t know why, it… it just feels different and I am at a loss to understand why.  Why my aunts, why this one in particular.  She is goodness personified, not saying that my other aunt isn’t just the same.  But this aunt, God I love her.  She is always there when I need her.  She has picked me up more times than I have fallen and believe me when I say that is a whole lot, as I am somewhat accident prone.  How do I help her? Will she let me? I just love her, like wow… l am not ashamed to admit this, but right now I am crying.  The thought of this terrifying diagnosis being given to anyone. How do other families, partners and friends deal with this? Is it normal to want to drown in my own tears and lock out the world? How the hell will my aunt cope with this? FUCK! How is she feeling, do I text her? Do I call her? She lives like, right round the corner, do I go to her.  Right now, I don’t know if I could face her without breaking down.  I need to get my shit together and give myself a slap.  She needs me! My mum needs me, she is already a tear ridden mess. I have to shut down a little bit. I have to try to be strong and gulp down this overwhelming feeling to run away from it all.  Fight or Flight is a pain in my anxious ass.  

I guess we need to start on the day it all came to fruition.  The day that I was actually informed that there was something wrong. I knew I was going out with my mum and my aunt, to have lunch with my uncle, aunt and baby cousin.  Family is massive to me.  They are my world, I love them all so much, and I’d do anything for them. Anyways, I digress.  I was picked up and another one of my aunts was there. I was not informed of this and thought it strange.  There were a lot of looks and hushed talks, I tried to not read in to it, but I knew there was something off.  I asked my aunt to stop for coffee, as she was the driver that day, the car resounded no, however my aunt, being my aunt took me anyways.  She let me pay and then almost drove off without it, oh how we laughed. Even in my 30’s my mother would describe me as utterly spoiled and even in my 30’s, I am still considered the baby and as a result of that things are generally kept from me to “protect me”. Unbeknownst to me, everyone in that car knew my aunt was sick, apart from me.

That level of naivety caused me to make some very ill-fitting jokes that day, talk about foot in mouth.  I was getting bored of following my mother and two aunts around the shops, so I decided to go and take a seat in the small sitting area in between all the shops to watch the world go by.  My aunt came and sat down beside me.  On reflection I should have seen it coming, I could tell she was nervous and was staring at me with great intent.  I turned to her as I felt her eyes on me and the words “I need to tell you something” came out of her mouth.  The world in that moment froze, all of the surrounding noise, became eerily silent and she spoke again. “You know how they found a lump in my chest, well whatever that is, it is also in my blood and in my liver”. I remember shaking my head and trying to control my emotions as I was in a very public place, but I couldn’t. So I started to cry.  My aunt attempted to comfort me, but I couldn’t be around her in that moment, I didn’t want her to be hurt, so I said “I need to get some air”, this kind, loving woman wanted to come with me, however I told her I needed to be alone.  The pained expression on her face, is one I will never forget.  We talk about timing in life, how the timing has to be right. There would never be the right time to get that kind of news.

As I walked in to the crowd I found a seat looking out on to the water, I tried to get my emotions under control however, it just wasn’t happening.  All I could do was cry, fear was consuming me.  Was she going to die?  I saw this couple in front of me attempting to take a selfie, to obtain the beautiful view in the background and there was me sobbing like an absolute mess. I offered to take their picture as they were struggling to get the angle right.  After I took their picture, the man turned to me and said “I hope that whatever it is that has made you cry, you are okay”.  I thanked him.  That moment restored my faith in people and the kindness that a mere stranger can show you. Thank you, whoever you were.  Out the corner of my eye, I spotted my baby cousin and my uncle.  My little cousin ran up and hugged me, I held her a little tighter as I needed to be anchored to the ground in that moment.  My uncle grabbed me and asked if I was okay, I think the look in my eyes said it all.  My other aunt came over and took him away, whilst my sick aunt and mother came to me. I watched my aunt break my uncle’s heart with the news.  The look on his face thereafter mirrored mines, saying it all.

Instead of going for lunch that day, we all sat at a table in a daze. I don’t think anyone, apart from my baby cousin, who was completely oblivious, ate. The journey home was a sombre one, with my aunt becoming extremely fatigued. There had been no formal diagnosis on this day, but something said to me that this would not end well.   I had a bad feeling. I am thankful for my friends over the next week as they helped keep my head above the water.  The fear of the unknown made me feel uneasy and unhinged, yet I just have to keep going.

 A week later my aunt was rushed in to hospital for her very first visit, she felt like she couldn’t breathe… That trip to the hospital confirmed the family’s worst fears that we were indeed dealing with the big C.  Yet again it had invited itself in to my family, affecting another one of my mother’s sisters.  To hear that she had been taken in to hospital and then to get the news it was cancer and that it was pretty bad.  I didn’t know what to do, I felt like I couldn’t breathe, I was incredibly angry. So I went to my little cousin’s grave (that’s a whole other story) and sat there. I had switched off my phone, I needed to gather my strength, and I needed a minute to process this news before having to face my mother. When I finally got to her, she was utterly inconsolable, she was unable to formulate a sentence, her anxiety was in full melt down mode and all I could do was try to comfort her, which turned out to be an unrealistic task. This was her big sister, her best friend, her walking buddy… the list was endless.  You see my family, my mother and I.  We have endured loss and lots of it.  I guess the thought of actually getting close to someone is always frightening, as I know just how painful it is to lose those who you love.  But here we were again, facing the prospect of loss and not really knowing what to say or do.  So we went a drive, it was the most unpleasant car ride of my life, my mum presumed that my aunt could die at any moment with all the feedback we were getting and the irrationality of it all was in full effect.  Music is my greatest release and I don’t know why but Andra Day, Rise Up was totally over played today.  “You’re broken down and tired, of livin’ life on a merry-go-round and you can’t find a fighter, but I see it in you, so we gon’ walk it out”.  Outstanding opening lyrics, my aunt is a fighter.  I know she can fight this.  Please just give her a chance.  Whatever the outcome of this situation, I know this song will forever move me to tears.  My aunt did not die today on the 25th of June, 2017.  I am thankful, as I am not ready to say goodbye just yet.  

I doubt very much that I am going to sleep tonight, I am sitting here wondering how my cousins are, how my uncle is.  Will my mum be okay, how will this affect my family?  Will I survive this one? Please let her have more time, I need more time. I sent her a message just there; Hi, I don’t know if you’ll have your phone or not. I guess I am kind of hoping that you do. I just want you to know that I love you so, so much. You are and always will be my favourite. I’ll see you soon, with an obscene amount of kisses and emoji’s. My aunt never responded, however she read it at 02:07 hours.  The joys of WhatsApp I wonder what is going through her head right now.  I’ll be fucked if I could explain what is going through mines.

My aunt has to remain in the hospital to undergo tests, we are still awaiting the prognosis from her diagnosis.  The wait is just infuriating, test after test. To determine, how long she has to live. Is it even accurate? Anyways, at this point she is stable. I will take that today.

 It’s the 27/06/17 today, I am finally getting to see my aunt today.  I am heading to the hospital with my mum to visit.  I text her to see if she needed anything.  Her response had me in tears; Hi C, think I have everything. Maybe pick up your uncle, because he won’t ask you. Paper hankies please. That’s all. I’ll probably cry. X.  I wrote back about me being a snottery mess and that she shouldn’t worry about crying. I stated that I was writing a report that day for work and she was full of support as always. She is one of my greatest cheerleaders in life.  I am thankful for the small gestures she makes, even whilst enduring what she is. It is the unknown that is the worst.  She just wants to know, we all do.  I still can’t believe that this is happening. I am afraid, but I am appearing to be strong.

So I am just home from visiting her.  There were lots of tears tonight.  My aunt was visibly in pain, however she refuses to engage in taking regular medication for the fear of becoming addicted.  The strength that she is showing is absolutely incredible.  I feel like I can’t breathe tonight, I doubt that I am going to sleep.  There is a group family chat, where we are getting updates about my aunt’s condition now. I never thought I’d see the day that this would happen.  We are such a big family, that it is understandable.  It just doesn’t feel right.

I haven’t had the desire to write much the last few days, I have flung myself in to work.  I feel like if I keep myself busy, my mind busy that I will be able to compartmentalise all of my feelings.  The family are still receiving updates. I have been texting on and off with my aunt.  I cooked meals for my uncle and got in trouble for it.  Apparently I’m doing too much, I just want to help, anyway that I can.  Because let’s be honest I feel completely and utterly useless right now.  In this uselessness, I feel like I just want to block it all out.  I just want to drink, or escape like I used to.  I wonder is it that I am so used to hurting myself, that it feels like nothing, but when I think of hurting those around me again, I know I need to stick to reality right now.  How to escape, without actually escaping.  I am not sleeping again, I don’t think this is helping and when I do sleep, I have to have the light on.  I stopped sleeping with the light on years ago, and now.  Now I need it again, I can’t be alone in the dark with these feelings… you know what I mean? My phone is on loud and vibrate, every time it beeps, buzzes or makes a sound, I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. What is wrong with me? She is still here, she’s in hospital, in the best place. My irrationality is in full swing. I feel like I need some help to sleep, or I need to just run, head first in to a brick wall.  Sleep is not coming, pain is.

It’s the 29/07/17 today, my aunt has been getting some trouble with her eye. She went to the opticians and she was told that there was a lump behind her eye that was causing her sight problems.  It transpires that the cancer is now behind her eye.  Why is this happening? It feels like it all going at an exponential rate.  She was fine a minute ago and now it is everywhere. I feel so fucking angry that this is happening to her.  It is stripping everything away from her, she can’t even drive her car anymore.  I wish I was smarter, I wish there was a way that I could cure her and all of the others who are suffering from this horrendous disease.  It’s just so debilitating and to hear her so deflated is… it’s just so fucking heart-breaking.  My heart goes out to all of those who are subject or touched by this disease, it really consumes and controls lives.  I admire those who have fight, like my other aunt.  My mum’s youngest sister.  Who went through an invasive surgery, chemotherapy and radiotherapy!!!  She is doing incredibly well, her fight is not yet over and she is making an amazing steps to, hopefully recovery? I guess that is just another waiting game.  My other aunt, not so much. How can they both be at such differing ends of the spectrum? I guess you try to take away your own feelings as much as possible, but I am scared.  I am scared for both of them and the future, the time that they have left.

Today is the 3rd of July, 2017.  I am going up to my aunt’s house today.   Have you ever spent your whole life around someone, yet never really noticed things about them.  Is that what taking people for granted looks like?  My aunt has the most incredible blue eyes, like wow.  They are so beautiful.  I blurted it out, like out of nowhere. Who does that? Clearly I do.  My aunt and my mum just looked at me and laughed. I was taking pictures today and my aunt said that I had to calm down, she wasn’t dead yet.  I just looked at her and apologised.  I guess trying to commit everything to memory all at once, is never a good idea.  Dick move 101 today.  I did, however manage to get a cracking picture of my mum and my aunt today.  I love it. My aunt gets her prognosis in 4 days. The 7th of July and I am away to a festival that weekend.  I told my aunt that I wouldn’t go and she told me that under no circumstances would I be missing it.  How can I just switch off from this for a full weekend and is it fair that I do go? My aunt would literally kick my arse if I don’t go… My head feels like it might burst.  It feels strange to think that in four days’ time, my aunt will find out how long she has left on this earth… I cannot begin to imagine what is going through her head.   She is strength personified and I know she is more worried about everyone else’s reaction, rather than dying herself.  That beautiful spirit, that kind of person, you just don’t come by them that often in this lifetime.  Four days and my family’s world will be forever altered.

I went to the festival, sure I seen a lot of bands, I drank a lot of alcohol, yet nothing took away the pain.  The fear of the unknown.  I sent my aunt some selfies as I had promised a picture a day and we exchanged some chat over the weekend.  I wanted to ask her what the script was, but I daren’t.  I am a coward. Right now I am sitting in my friend’s house, avoiding going home. Today is the 10/07/17, today is the day that I find out how long my aunt has to live. I don’t want to go home and burst this bubble I have right now, you know that little fantasy land that you live in and pretend that everything is okay.  It is far from it.  Please let it be years, because any less would be just ridiculous, a complete travesty to a life that has not yet fully lived.  Wish me luck…

So I went straight home to my mums.  The look on her face said it all to be honest.  Her eyes were a clear indication that all was not well.  It transpires that my aunt has 3-6 months to live, providing that the upcoming treatment she has works.  (Chemotherapy and Radiotherapy).  The news, that single moment has just taken the wind right out of me. I have to go and face her today, how can I face her… My mum stated that there had been a message sent out on the Friday (the first day of my festival) to all of our family apart from me, to say that she had 3-6 months to live.  Part of that message referred to me not being told, until after my festival, as she wanted me to have a good time.  This woman literally kills me.  She knew I would just come home, I feel like I should have been at home. Was I If I selfish to try to have some fun?  From my mums house you can see my aunt’s house, and as we were talking.  The woman that has just been given a short time to live, has decided she is going out for a walk.  I am currently watching her, alongside my uncle, walking together along the road, slowly but surely and I cannot stop the steady stream of tears as they run from my eyes.  Such strength, such beauty, such courage.  I know many of you who will read this, will say I am bias, well of course I am.  She is amazing.  I am proud to be her family.

Okay, so after receiving this news, I avoided some more and decided I would go and get some stuff to cook meals for them both.  I also picked up some empire biscuits that I knew she and my uncle enjoyed. I am going round to see her now.  I feel sick, I must try to keep it together.  Needless to say that did not happen and there were tears, snotters and tantrums.  For the first time in my life, I left my phone in my car and spent nearly three hours with my aunt and uncle.  I left in the end, because my aunt is a stubborn woman and she wouldn’t take her morphine whilst I was there.  She was in pain and she could no longer mask it.  Fuck you cancer, honestly, fuck you.  My aunt said this tonight and my heart is in one million pieces. “If I make it to Christmas, we will go out for dinner.  Me, you, your mum and my uncle.  We will make it really special”.  I said well we better invite your kids along then, because then it will be extra special. (My cousins didn’t spend Christmas with their mum and step dad, they spent the 1st of January together that was their tradition). My aunt agreed and smiled.  Please let her make Christmas.  Please give her more time.  Is that selfishness? Potentially inflicting more pain on someone, who is already suffering… wanting more time, when their body is in so much pain. I feel conflicted right now, I am so angry, I am sad, I am lost.  Time is a funny one, you spend your life consumed by it, measuring your life by it. But when you need more of it, it just doesn’t seem to work in your favour.  I am trying to not drown my sorrows in the bottom of a bottle right now, but Jack Daniels could honestly be a friend of mines.  My coping mechanisms are truly fucked up.  Because if I am honest, I am living on little sleep and 100% anxiety.

My mind is somewhere I don’t even want to go, and that is saying something. I really am going to lose her.  She is going to die and I don’t think there is anything in this world that I wouldn’t trade right now to stop this from happening.  Sleep won’t come tonight. It is 05:00 hours, and I am back at work today (11/07/17).  All that keeps going on in my head is the same loop…How on earth will my cousins and uncle cope with this shit, if I can’t even get my head around it.  My mum, well I know she has me and I will do everything in my power to help her.  I know T, DJ and Bazza have each other, I know I have my family, the ones that I am close to, and I have them.  But some of them are really shitty and have a fucked up interpretation of what that word actually means.  I fear writing right now, as I know that I am not making sense, I understand this.  I am just thinking out loud.  My aunt seems to have accepted her fate, she is okay with the time she has left.  My aunt has decided to pursue the treatment that could prolong her life from 3-6 months. What if this treatment isn’t successful, does that mean it will happen quicker? Will she die sooner? There are so many questions, yet no one seems to be able to provide my family with any solid answers. Is it because they don’t even know? I am a whole new level of fucked up today, time to put my game face on and do what I do best… WING IT.

It’s the 13/07/17 my aunt has been rushed back in to hospital, again.  She is in a lot of pain. Damn this emotional rollercoaster, I literally had just been told that there had been some pain management, finally and then this.  What sort of sick, twisted game does cancer play with its victims?  I don’t know how much more she can take of this, she is strong, but she is tired.  Please pray for my aunt. I just want to make her pain stop, I would just like to make all of their pain stop.  I can’t do anything, I am powerless.  In my job, I provide advice, support and guidance in the hope that I can help change someone’s life, and I can’t do anything for my own family, I have to watch on as cancer ravages my Aunt and eventually, well it is going to kill her, it’s not fucking fair.  Work and personal life, the things you shouldn’t blur, yet I cannot stop comparing my roles.  My poor aunt. She is exhausted with it all.  I would very much like now to be sitting in Costa with her buying her a latte, or be in a shopping centre being dragged around every shop without her buying a single thing, than thinking about visiting her in a hospital.  As the days go on, I am less convinced that she has long to go.  How do I convey this to those who have faith, am I faithless or am I being realistic?  I hope that my aunt is getting some proper pain relief tonight.  I worry about her so much.  She is a worries, I guess I got it from her.

 I sent my aunt a text today 14/07/17 “Miss you Auntie Joan the Moan”.  My mum’s nickname for her, I subsequently got in trouble as my mother is the only erson that is allowed to call her that.  My aunt is pretty sick.  She has to have a calcium infusion? Not sure what that is all about, you’d think with my extensive medical knowledge thanks to Grey’s Anatomy, I’d have this down.  I don’t. I will find out more when I am allowed to visit.

 In order to help my mum take her mind off of things I decided today on the 15/07/17 I’d take my mum out for some lunch.  With my aunt being in hospital and her not wanting visitors at this time, my mum feels very anxious and worried.  So I am doing my best to keep her anchored, whilst inside I am freaking out.  I really should have taken up acting when I had the chance.  I am playing a blinder of a performance in life right now.  Frances McDormand eat your heart out.  Whilst sitting at lunch, we received a text stating that my uncle had went up to the hospital to visit and then after that, we were asked to go up. We had just ordered lunch and my mum was frantic.  I spoke to the lady in the Ettrick, where we have many family lunches and she was very understanding of our situation.  So I paid for the drinks and we left to go to the hospital.  Thank you to the staff at the Ettrick for being so understanding. I just had to get my mum to her sister. When we got there… well, let’s just say it wasn’t pretty.  My aunt was standing with drains coming out of her, her legs shaking, her body exhausted and her breathing laboured.  I just wanted to run out of that room.  I had to turn around and get it together as my cousin and uncle were there.  I don’t want them to see me sad. My mum ushered them out and stated that they should go, so that we could have some time.  My aunt stated to us how much pain she was in and I could see my mum starting to get upset… this whole situation is just horrendous.  I pleaded with her to sit or lie down, as her legs would cave in any minute with how exhausted she was.  After much argument, as my aunt is a stubborn woman, my mum and I managed to sit her down and she struggled to get entirely comfortable, however she was sitting and her legs were getting a rest.  I felt overwhelmed and decided to use my best tactics to get out of that room as quickly as possible.  I suggested a coffee run.  As per usual my mum and aunt argued about who would pay.  My mum won.  In my head I wanted to give my mum some alone time with her sister, but I also knew I needed to break down alone.  Away from the prying eyes of my family.

 I left the room and my head was spinning and before I knew it I was crying, out loud in the corridor. This lady appeared from nowhere and grabbed me.  This woman was in a hospital gown, she had a bald head and was attached to a drip. She was fighting her own battle, yet she stopped to comfort me.  The lady stated that my aunt seemed like she was a lovely woman, however sometimes with cancer, it just spreads so quickly that there is no way to stop it.  I understood her words, I felt like she was telling me that my aunt didn’t have long left.  I sobbed my heart out again to a perfect stranger, and I felt guilty for it. Thank you for taking the time to comfort me in my time of need.  I hope that you’re still winning your battle and eventually that you become cancer free.

 When I returned to the room, my aunt and mother were deep in conversation.  We sat and spoke for a couple of hours.  My aunt was getting tired and believe me she was not backwards at coming forward.  She told us it was time to leave.  My mum pleaded with her to take medication to help her sleep, my aunt said that she would… I knew that she would not.  I told her that I would see her the next day, as I was driving my other aunt up to see her. She stated that this would be fine. I am losing her, I can’t believe I am losing her.  Leaving her room tonight with my mum, I literally couldn’t stop the tears.  This time it was a nurse that hugged me, she stated that it was all happening extremely quickly and that we should be prepared.  My mum just looked at her and nodded.  I took comfort in her embrace.  Thank you to the nurse in ward 2A at the QEUH, Glasgow for taking the time to be there for me.  

 The drive home was full of questions from my mum, about what she meant and I couldn’t answer her.  I guess right now, I don’t think that my aunt will go through the treatment.  I don’t think she is strong enough to endure it.  I don’t think we have much time with her left.  

 It’s the 16/07/17, I get to see my wonderful aunt again today.  This makes me smile.  I picked up my aunt and up we went.  My aunt Maymay asked how my Auntie Mazza was doing, and well I stated that it was best that she seen for herself.  I explained that it had been quite upsetting.  When we got there, I heard my aunt speaking to someone, so I presumed that there would have been visitors.  There wasn’t.  I didn’t question my aunt on who she was speaking to, but it scared me.  I am not going to lie.  We were sitting talking for a while and my brave Auntie Mazza burst in to tears, so then my other aunt burst in to tears and I was scared and I didn’t know what to do… so I texted my mum.  My mum called straight away and asked to be put on the phone to my Auntie. My Auntie was like to you text your mum, I was like I did.  I was worried.  She smiled and spoke with my mum.  My aunt wasn’t afraid of dying, she was afraid of the impact it would have on her family, her dying.  We all cried… I think the reality of the situation became very clear.  I noticed that my Auntie had holy socks on, she was mortified and demanded that I change them for her, as well as this she told me to text her husband and give him in to trouble for her wearing said holy socks.  His response was a belter “Well tell your aunt, if she didn’t put holy socks in the drawer, this would not have happened at all”.  We eventually laughed.  I asked if my Auntie needed anything from the shop, as I wanted to give her and my aunt May some time.  I walked to the shop, taking my time.  When I returned, they both appeared to be more settled.  We got our marching orders about 2 hours later, my Auntie needed to rest. Cancer is taking its toll massively on her fragile body.

 It’s the 17th of July 2017 and my aunt is undergoing more tests.  She is being moved to the Beatson to be fitted for her Radiotherapy mask. I am not sure how I feel about the upcoming treatment now, her body is tired.  She is going through so much.  I text her to wish her luck.  She thanked me.  I then later that day text her to say; “Hope they are treating you well at the Casa del Gartnavel (Beatson).  I love you so much Auntie Mazza, I know you know.  But I just want to keep telling you because I do”.  She responded “Aaaaaaaawh. Thanks.x  … Bless this woman.  She is just so loved.  I don’t really know what to think right now… I don’t want to live in a world where she doesn’t exist.  This world will be a darker place without her light in it.  I can’t stop thinking that everything was fine a minute ago.

 It’s the 19/07/17 my Aunt is getting put through yet another procedure.  I text her to say that I hoped it wasn’t too sore.  My Aunt informed me that she was now back in the QEUH, and well that whole situation of her being moved from one hospital to another has just left me utterly perplexed.  I am too angry to even talk about it.  Basically, the Beatson cannot do anything for her as she is still too unwell. The really should have known this before sending her anywhere else.  I think hospitals need to do better at communicating.  My aunt and all of those other patients who are undergoing treatment, should be treated with more dignity and respect.  It is after all in their governing standards. I have a migraine tonight, I’ve just taken some medication.  I feel sleepy, but I am afraid to sleep.  I was texting my Auntie there she said “Oh no.  Nothing worse. Just have an early night.  Sleep well and don’t you worry about me… how I could possibly not… I need to sleep.

 I sent a message to her today 20/07/17… STAY STRONG… I got some love hearts back.  How can I possibly ask her to stay strong when she gets weaker and weaker every day.  I don’t know how to do this anymore.  I don’t know how to be strong.  I am just so angry.  She won’t be receiving anymore treatment.  It is likely that Palliative Care will now be implemented.  I swear like yesterday, all was fine.  How can this actually be happening? I don’t want to accept this. I cried in the toilet at work today.  I had a moment of weakness.  A client, whose mother is dying, told me that I didn’t know how she was feeling, that I couldn’t possibly understand.  People seem to believe that social workers are just robots and that we do not feel.  I can assure you that we do.

 It’s the 21/07/17 and we are going up to the hospital to see my aunt today.  My aunt is finally up to seeing people.  My mum just really wants to see her sister.  We walked in and well as you could probably imagine she was lying in her bed, weak, sleepy and has laboured breathing.  There are so many things that I want to say, and I am running out of time. I wonder does she know how thankful I am for her.  For the times that she ensured that I had a childhood, when my mother was unable to do so due to agoraphobia.  Does she know that her support was unwavering and really appreciated throughout my life? She was more than just my Auntie. I wonder if she knows just how much I love her and how much I look up to her.  I wonder if she knows that her relationship with my uncle, apart from Johnny and June Cash, is my favourite love story, and that I hope one day I meet a girl, who makes me feel like my uncle does for my aunt.  So many things, so little time.  I wrote her a letter.  I just haven’t given it to her.  I wonder if I should.  I don’t want her to be sad.  We cried when we left the hospital today.  There are no words.

 It is the 23/07/17 and I just really need to see my aunt.  I just need to hug her.  I got permission to go and see her.  She is in and out of it tonight.  When she was with us (my cousin and I), she was talking about my childhood and just how accident prone I was.  She was making me laugh and we had a few moments together.  I lay my head beside her at one point and just held her hand, as the tears silently rolled from my face.  She said to me, I don’t want people to see me like this… I don’t want them to be staring at me.  I told her I understood.  We just lay there for another little while.  My big cousin was in and out.  I was thankful for that little moment I got with my aunt, just me and her. When it was time to leave, my aunt was taking her pill and began to choke, I ran to the toilet to get the sick bowl just in case.  She was more worried about everyone else in the room and their reactions.  She was like “I’m fine”.  I looked in her eyes, those incredible blue eyes and left.  I have a feeling this will be the last time I see my Auntie and it’s breaking my heart.  Sleep will not come tonight, I can feel it already…

 24/07/17…The palliative care team have been in contact and my Auntie will be moved to the hospice this week.  I feel sick to my stomach.  Currently, she is in and out of it, as she describes herself as permanently exhausted. I just want to be there for her, but she doesn’t want to see anyone.  My mum is devastated by this…  

 My aunt celebrated her wedding anniversary today… she made it for that.  She is a trooper.  She still does not want any visitors.  The more the days go on, the more I am aware that Sunday the 23/07/17 has to be the last time I’ll have got to see her alive.  I am broken today, I don’t think I can take this pain anymore.  I don’t have any words.

 My mum text me today 28/07/17 to say that my aunt had perked up and she was asking for some diet coke (her favourite soft drink).  My immediate thought was, oh wow this is excellent and then the feeling of dread has overcome me.  This has to be the surge…  The big come back before the finale.  I did learn about this on Greys (Mark Sloan scene, just before he died.  Shonda Rhymes gets me every time.  All the feels).  I told my mum and she told me I was being ridiculous… I then told her to google the symptoms.  My mum now understands and has apologised to me… She knows this to be a true reflection of the situation and well she is just playing the waiting game now. We all are. I took her for her shopping tonight and left to go to a friend’s house… I feel so uneasy.  My poor mum is so lost and I wish there was something more I could do for her.  My mum isn’t just losing her big sister, she is losing her best friend.

 We just all got a message there from my cousin to tell us that my aunt only has a few more hours in the land of the living.  I was right it was the surge.  I feel like someone has just shot me in the heart.  I don’t know what to do with myself… I sat in my friends for a couple of hours before going to my mums.  Every time the phone goes, we both expect the worst, however for the most part my aunt appears to be holding on… Such a stubborn, strong woman.  My uncle is there playing her favourite music to her on his guitar (she gave him a wee clap of the hands after one of his performances, God I love that woman) and my cousins are with her, telling her how loved she is.  I cannot imagine who they are feeling right now.  I have been with people when they have died, it can be very intense and extremely taxing emotionally.  I think people need to think of the impact it can have on them when they make a decision like that, to spend those final moments with someone.  I speak from experience when I say it can be very damaging mentally, but not everyone is the same and my experiences are professionally as well as personally.

 It is now the 29/07/17… still no news, it is 12:17 hours and I am not asleep…  I keep thinking about her, I wonder if she is in pain.  I don’t want her to be suffering anymore.  I hope my cousins and my uncle are okay…  I wish I could be there with them at this time, however I am respecting my Aunts wishes.  She wouldn’t want me or anyone else to see her like that.  When my little cousin died, I didn’t get to see him. I think if I did, I wouldn’t be here today.  I understand my aunts need to protect people, and for them to remember her the way she was/is.  Not really sure what tense is appropriate right now.

 It’s now 09:00 hours, I have been up and down so many times that I am not sure if I have actually slept… My aunt is still hanging on in there. What a stubborn woman she is.  She should let go now, its okay Auntie Mazza, I know you’re ready, we aren’t, and we never will be.  I can’t even begin to imagine how my cousins and uncle are, they’ve been awake this entire time…  I wish there was something I could do… Common theme of this writing “I wish”… My biggest wish is that none of this was happening.

 It’s just after 11am, you died today.  I can’t begin to tell you how much I miss you already.  I hope that you are at peace now.  I have been invited to a viewing tonight, but I can’t do it…  I will seek solace in the bottom of an empty bottle, because feeling this at all once, is all too encompassing and I just can’t cope. I will attend the viewing tomorrow.   I can’t face this right now, the reality of it all.  I know who to go to, what friends to seek support from and who to avoid.  That might sound harsh, however, I need to not be in control tonight, I need to let go.  I don’t want to talk about it, I just want to pretend, just for one more day that this isn’t real, and that she isn’t gone. Because reality might just kill me right now.  I don’t mean to disappoint you Auntie Mazza, but right now.  I don’t want to feel anymore.

 It’s the 30/07/17.  I have woke up, and I cannot begin to tell you how stupid I was last night and how drunk I got.  Alcohol is not a solution folks.  Holy shit it is not.  I am feeling all kinds of fear, amidst that of the overwhelming grief.  I totally fucked it last night, lost yet another handbag and its contents.  I came home and watched videos of my aunt, crying my eyes out.  I cried myself to sleep last night, alone.  I actually really need to get it together.  I have to pick up my mother shortly and go and see my aunt for the very last time.  I am all kinds of scared.  I have seen death before, I have seen a dead body before, professionally and personally. It is hard.  It is accepting that this person isn’t there anymore, that they aren’t just going to wake up and be like… surprise, fooled you all.  Because this isn’t the movies and immortality, well it just doesn’t exist.  I am so disgustingly hungover, I honestly couldn’t hate myself anymore.  I cannot believe that I used to use alcohol as a coping mechanism… I was younger back then, so I guess my old ass can’t handle the sesh anymore.  I am avoiding again.  I am going to see my aunt now, for the very last time.  How did this actually happen… I am crying again.

 I just got back from seeing my Aunt…  She looked incredibly peaceful and it was as if a smile was on her face.  I am not sure if I am functioning or not. I don’t even know if I am hungover anymore.  I am… numb, I guess.  I walked in to the hospice and we were directed to where she was.  My Uncles family were there to pay their respects, so we allowed them to go in first.  My mum was agitated and I was just trying to not pass out.  I saw my uncle’s daughter and granddaughter they were incredibly upset when they were coming out, I just bowed my head.  I couldn’t look at them.  I knew it would soon by my turn.  The door opened and my mum walked in first, she burst in to tears and well, that was me. I started to have a panic attack and I was rooted to the ground, my body shaking and the tears, well they were streaming from my face.  In that moment it all became real.  My big cousins came out and held me, they said that we would do it together and that it was all going to be okay.  Was I not the one that was supposed to be doing that for them?  When the door opened my aunt was lying there on the bed, looking as beautiful as ever, looking like she was just asleep.  I wanted nothing more in that moment for her to wake up and scold me for, well… anything really.  But, she didn’t, otherwise I’d be writing about a zombie apocalypse or something.

 I was guided to the seat by her bed and I watched as my mother kissed her sister and held her for the last time.  It was the most beautiful and heart breaking thing to watch all at once.  My eldest big cousin said to me that she was cold to the touch but not worry.  Immediately my inner monologue was going wild.  “Do I hold her hand or not” Panic set in…  After a while I held my aunts hand and I cried.  My big cousin held me.  I know I am one of the youngest and I appreciate that they showed me support and love.  I know my aunt would have expected that of them.  We all shared stories and we laughed and we cried.  My aunt was an extraordinary human being, with such poise and flare.  She carried herself in such a way that it was hard to not love everything about her.  I miss her voice, I miss the way she said my name.  She and my little cousin, who died tragically at the age of 17 said my name in such a way that no one else could.  It’s funny to think I will never hear that again.  I digress…  When it came time to leave, I didn’t think I would be able to leave her… I wasn’t sure I was ready, but my mum was adamant it was time to go.  I took one last look at the body lying there on the bed, with the yellow flower in her hands and I said, I’ll never forget you for as long as I live.  I kissed her on the cheek for the last time and I turned and walked out of the door.

 I think I took the time to write this as an outlet, but also so that people could read about how much my aunt meant to me.  She was like a second mother.  I am so privileged to have had her in my life.  To know her was to love her and to love her is to miss her.  Cancer rips families apart, it forever alters those who survive it and it is something I hope that we find a cure to one day.  To all those who have lost loved ones, my heart goes out to you, I hope that you find strength in the days that come and that you never lose faith.  For those who are fighting it, keep fighting and stay strong.  For those whose battle may be coming to an end, may your days be filled with no pain and your final wishes be granted.  Life is a gift, every day I wake up and remind myself of that fact. I am blessed beyond measure, I get that. Unfortunately, my anxiety kind of doesn’t always let me get the job done, and I am continuously working on that. Not all things work for all people, find what keeps your mind busy and go from there.  I am not sure if I will write anymore, as my head and heart are hurting too much right now.  Marion Elizabeth Halley, I love you, no words could or can convey just how much.  There is a massive void in my heart, memories of you I will forever treasure.  May you be at peace now, wherever you are.

[forkanna]

[AO3 LINK] [EF LINK]

NOTE: So this is the last chapter before the epilogue! Some of you will be sad about that, some will just be glad this loooong fanfic is finally at its close. But yeah, stay tuned for the epilogue, and I hope you all find it satisfying and/or entertaining!

ALSO, this is going to be the first of 8 solid days of Hanukkah updates! How, you may ask? Well, I had another fic I've been tinkering with that is 6 chapters long. Adding this chapter, and a chapter of Precious Little Knives, that's 8 little Hanukkah presents for everyone! Later this month, I'll also be posting something on the first day of Yule and also on Christmas. This is my favourite time of year, after all!

The final goodbye speech and prayer were at noon at next day. With how little sleep she and Elsa got, Anna was practically a zombie, zoning in and out while Father Frollo's monotone voice rambled on about community building and God and how happy he was to to have seen another group of faces come to the camp to grow. Despite the cold and severe look on his face when he spoke. The ceremony went on for a good hour and it was only thanks to the occasional sharp jab to the ribs from Elsa's elbow that Anna even kept awake through it.

The exhaustion only helped the feeling of sadness dampen her mood. Despite everything, she had a great time and it was horrible that she had to leave not only her sister, but also her new friends behind, as well.

"Oh, don't be so glum," Elsa tried to tell her as they made their way slowly back to the cabins, even though she herself didn't look entirely happy. But at least she was smiling, unlike Anna. "Now we will share a lifetime of the fondest memories."

Anna regarded her sister briefly before humoring her with a small smile back. "You're right." She bumped Elsa playfully with her hip. "So many very fond memories. I'm just a little sad that it has to end…"

"I know. But… well, think of it another way. This is the beginning of everything else." Her eyes held a million secrets, and they were all meant for her sister alone. Anna couldn't keep the grin from making its way onto her face before she placed a chaste kiss on Elsa's cheek.

"Yes, it is. And hopefully, you and I will be together again in a few months, and then I'm never leaving your side ever again." She laughed softly. "Does that make me sound clingy?"

Elsa made sure to kiss Anna's cheek back before she whispered, "Yes." They both shared a laugh this time. "But it's alright. I think after being completely separated for five years, you have the right to cling for a bit."

"Good." Anna reached out to loop their arms together and pressed close to her older sister's side. "Because I don't ever intend to leave this spot!" She gave a resolute nod before giving Elsa a coy smirk and a raised brow. "Want to try for a quickie before we go? As a parting gift?"

There was a low rumble from Elsa that definitely sounded like it would lead to another "Yes". However, all she had time to do was nuzzle Anna's neck and hum before they heard a knock at the door. So instead, she called out, "Who is it?"

"Me!" said Rapunzel as she creaked the door open. Though Anna and Elsa broke apart, it had been very obvious what they were doing just before they did, and their friend's reaction showed. She swallowed hard and ducked her head down between her shoulders. "O-oh, I- sorry, I thought- I didn't m-mean…"

"It's fine, Punzie!" Anna rushed to say before her friend ran off completely. If this was her last chance to see her friend, she was determined to take the bull by the horns. "Come on in, what's up? Can we get you anything? Juice, water… money?"

Her head shook, and she looked like she wanted to say more but didn't. After a moment, Elsa prompted her, "Would you like to come in so we aren't overheard? It might be less… uncomfortable for you." She did, pressing back against the door to shut it. "There. Now, what's… wrong? Or is nothing wrong?"

"Not really, but, I… well, I thought I'd come see you off."

Anna smiled and sat down on her bed, gesturing to the only chair in the room for Rapunzel to sit. "Thanks, Punzie," she said sincerely. "How are you getting home? Someone coming to get you?"

"Uh-huh. My mom. B-but before I left…" She took a deep breath in, letting it out very slowly. "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

The sisters exchanged an uncertain glance. "Um… okay," Elsa eventually said. "Sorry for what?"

"Being upset, and weird about this. Like… okay, I still don't think it's right, but I also see how much you two love each other. And that's so important! And the Bible tells us not to judge, to leave that up to Him, right? S-so I really shouldn't be… mad, or scared, or whatever it was I was feeling!" She took a couple more breaths, fingers fidgeting in front of her stomach. "Anyway, sorry for being so weird. What you two do alone is n-none of my business."

Anna bit her lip, unsure exactly what to say. While her heart soared at Rapunzel's apology and the sting of her initial rejection eased, it was clear by Rapunzel's demeanor and the way she flinched and her voice wavered that she still wasn't comfortable around the sisters anymore. She wanted to hug the brunette, because Rapunzel really had become such a dear friend to her over the past few weeks, but that probably wouldn't go over very well.

"Thank you so much for the apology, Punzie… I- I appreciate it and…" She paused her and closed her eyes. "I- I know that… you probably don't really want it, but I'd like to give you my phone number. So we can keep in touch if you want? Because I really care about you and I would love to talk to you and hear you ramble about Flynn and your life and-" She knew she was spinning out of control, but she found herself unable to stop. A few tears spilled over. "And I th-think you're an amazing person and I would still love to be your friend and-"

She stuttered to a halt when a gentle hand rested on her shoulder. "Anna," Elsa whispered, squeezing gently. Then she turned to the other girl. "She'd like to keep in contact. You could get her number and then later decide what to do with it."

A little squeaked "oh!" popped out of her mouth before she smiled. "S-sure! I'm just surprised you'd want to after…" Shrugging off her own nerves, she reached into her pocket for her phone. "Well, hey, this has probably been a really eye-opening camp for all of us! Guess we should just let go and let God, right?"

The redhead grinned weakly as she took Rapunzel's phone, typing in her number before handing it back and pulling Rapunzel into a tight hug. "I'm so glad you're not mad!" After a brief moment, she hugged back with a huge sigh of relief. They stayed like that for nearly a minute before Anna finally pulled away.

"We're okay then?" she asked hopefully.

"Yeah. I mean, it's still gonna be pretty crazy for me to think about… y'know, you two, but I'm done letting that stop me from being friends with you. Because I know in my soul that you're a blessing, Anna. Really." Then she turned to Elsa and awkwardly added, "A-and you, too! Of course!"

"It's fine," she chuckled, waving her hand back and forth. "I'm aware that you forged a bond with her first and we haven't spoken much."

Anna giggled, "I'm not so sure about your bond with Punzie being any weaker than mine though, Mommy." She chanced a playful tease before slinging her arms around both girls. Anna was over the moon with warmth and delight and her smile reflected that with how widely it was spread. Of course, Punz ducked her head and let out a long, mortified groan, collapsing against the two of them.

"Please don't tell anybody? Geeze Louise, I don't even know why I said that…"

"Maybe Mommy will have you massage her feet again soon," Elsa teased, prompting a deeper groan. Anna giggled and squeezed both women.

"We should all have a Skype night or something, play some Uno or poker again. You can even invite Flynn!" the redhead suggested. "I'd love to meet him."

That got her to smile again, even though her cheeks were still glowing with embarrassment. "Okay! I've never done that online, but it sounds neat!" Anna quickly pulled away from the two so she could rummage about for a scrap of paper and a pen. It took her a few minutes but it wasn't long before she was handing off her email address and her phone number to the brunette. She also put Elsa's number on there for good measure.

"Okay, so if you find someone on Skype named Feisty Pants- Lover of Sandwiches, that's me. My friend Kristoff changed it on me and I never got around to changing it back."

"Um, cool," she half-laughed, looking down at it. "And… thanks for like, giving me time to kind of separate 'sin from sinner', as we keep saying around here. This just wasn't anything I expected to, y'know… have to process while at camp. Or at all. But that's on me, not you two."

Anna pulled her into another hug. "Thank you for understanding, Rapunzel," she murmured. "I know it must have been hard but I'm so happy that you can look past the 'we're terrible people who are sinning' bit and just… understand that me and Elsa are in love."

"Well, I mean… if you're going to be like that, I guess at least you're not just doing it for kicks!" Her laughter was a little unhinged but at least she was laughing. Elsa patted her shoulder as they hugged, hoping to add to the warmth of the moment. When she did pull back, she sighed and said, "Well… I guess we better get going. Camp's over! Again…"

Anna slumped and gave her older sister a pout, but she eventually pulled away from her friend and stepped back to stand at Elsa's side. "Are you all packed up and ready to go?" she asked Rapunzel.

"Yep! Tried to make sure I was before I came here." Then she hugged her new friends. Again. "Talk to you soon?"

"Of course," Elsa promised, embracing her back.

"If you want, call me sometime next week," Anna offered. "Let me know what's up."

"That'd be super awesome!" Skipping back out the door, she called over shoulder, "Bye, Anna, bye, Elsa!"

After waving to her retreating form, Elsa shook her head and chuckled. "At least she didn't call me 'mommy' again while shouting it that way."

"I think you would have secretly loved it if she did," Anna teased her sister, leaning in and planting a few soft kisses in Elsa's neck. "Or maybe I should say that next time we're doing the naughties together." she gave Elsa a flirtatious grin. "What do you think, mommy?"

But the way Elsa's lip curled made it clear that was not something she was interested in. However, she was diplomatic enough to say, "Well… if you want to, I suppose it would be alright. Just don't start asking for me to change your diaper or anything."

Anna chuckled softly and kissed Elsa's lips lightly. "Never change, Sis," she hummed cheerfully. "I love you so much and I never want you to change." Filled with warmth and mirth towards the woman in her arms, Anna couldn't resist the urge to kiss her again… and again. And Elsa didn't try to resist, either.

Not long afterward, they were packed and ready to go. Instead of immediately sweeping off to the other campers, they spent a moment or two on the bed, simply lying in each other's arms. The kisses and heat, exploring bodies, had become less important than pure closeness in these final moments.

"I wish we didn't have to part ways at all," Elsa finally whispered, voice tight. Anna snuggled closer and sighed, closing her eyes and taking in Elsa's everything. Her scent filled the redhead with a sense of calmness that soothed the dark cloud of their inevitable separation looming over their heads.

"Me either," she murmured. "But it won't be forever and we'll still be able to call and Skype." Even as she said it, she gripped Elsa a little tighter, and she hugged back with equal enthusiasm. This wasn't going to be easy, but they could survive it.

Then it was time to meet their parents. The dreaded moment.

It was Anna who reluctantly pulled away first, giving Elsa a kiss on the cheek before getting up. "Papa said he'll be here around three… We should get going." A quick glance at her watch confirmed that she had fifteen minutes to get her and her belongings to the parking lot.

"Yeah." That was all Elsa said; there wasn't much more to say. But once they got to the door, she laid her hand upon Anna's to delay her. "Sister?"

"Yeah?" Anna rested her own hand gently over top of Elsa's and turned her head towards her. The blonde fidgeted for a moment, then shrugged and leaned over to kiss her nose.

"Just wanted one more moment with you. To kiss you goodbye before we can't." Anna beamed.

"One more proper kiss then?" she asked. "For the road?"

Elsa didn't seem to have any qualms. Her hands immediately lifted to cup either side of Anna's face, taking her lips with reckless abandon. Anna kissed back just as eagerly, letting out a little moan before slipping her tongue into Elsa's mouth. Anna never wanted it to end. And neither did Elsa, if the echoing moan was any indication. But eventually, she did draw back, breathless as she sniffled to stem the tears that had begun to fall somewhere during their moment.

"It's alright. We… we'll be fine. And I'll come visit you soon!"

Anna bit her lip, her own tears falling as she reached up to gently wipe her older sister's away. She reached out and pulled her into another hug. "We'll be fine," she echoed, choking up. Elsa patted her on the back as they embraced, nuzzling into her neck. Anna laughed softly through the tears. "We're never going to leave at this rate," she pointed out, hugging Elsa tighter. "Can't you just...come with us?" Despite knowing the answer, Anna couldn't keep the tiny sliver of hope from creeping into her voice.

"Afraid not," she told her gently. "I… have to go home and face the music. But depending on how that goes, you may see me before the summer has truly ended."

"Mom wouldn't disown you," Anna pointed out. "She gave up on me because I've been living with Dad. She'll be mad about you lying about me and probably be in denial and try to convince you that it's just my bad influence rubbing off on you." Immediately, a huge sigh came from Elsa's mouth, and she looked away. Then she turned back and cupped Anna's cheek.

"She won't fool me twice, Anna. Don't worry."

"I know." Anna gripped the hand on her cheek and caressed it with her thumb, smiling at Elsa. "We're together forever now." She turned her head to plant a soft kiss on Elsa's palm before pulling away again. "Come on, we really have to go now. At this point, I'm pretty sure we'll just stay here forever if we don't leave now."

"Would that really be so bad?" But before Anna could answer, she turned their hands so they both opened the door together.

It didn't take terribly long for them to trek across the campgrounds to the parking lot, even with their luggage in tow. A few late-leaving campers waved, as well as some of the counselors. Even Belle, whom had seemed standoffish at the best of times. Anna waved back at all of them, swinging her and Elsa's connected hands gently with every step they took. Despite being the one to push them into leaving the cabin, Anna still wasn't in much of a rush to part ways.

"Miss Anna! Miss Elsa!" Olaf bounced up and down excitedly, waving his arm from where he was standing next to Mark and who Anna presumed were their parents. The father especially looked exactly like the two boys but the mother was the one who was giving them Olaf's signature earnest, near-goofy grin. "Thank you so much for the great summer!"

"Of course," Elsa chuckled gently immediately, waving animatedly from where they stood. "See you next year!"

"See you next year! Make good choices!" Olaf answered back happily before he and Mark were led away by their suddenly sheepish father.

The parting sentiment made Anna burst into giggles. "I'm going to miss that kid."

"Yeah, he is… truly unique." Then she turned to look around again, and frozen in her tracks. "Oh."

There was their father. Clearly, Elsa had not been mentally prepared to run into him, despite how long she had to get used to the idea. He looked much the same, despite all the years apart. Anna forgot all about their connected hands as she excitedly dashed forward, dragging Elsa behind her.

"Papa!" she cheered, "I missed you!"

"There's my Anna Banana!" he said first, sweeping her into a hug. Though his eyes were mostly pointed at Elsa. That was understandable; the prodigal daughter was definitely the uncommon sight. "And you brought a friend! Who might this tall, pretty blonde be?"

Anna pulled away from him and gently nudged Elsa forward, grinning at the two of them. "I'd like to reintroduce you to your tall, pretty daughter!"

Elsa looked rather shy about it, glancing between the two of them. Edgar looked briefly stunned before he grinned broadly, his eyes misting over. "You've gotten so big, my little Snow Princess. And so beautiful, too; I hardly recognized you." There was a brief moment of hesitation before the tall man opened his arms for Elsa. "I may be old and crazy, but… mind giving your old man a hug?"

That request was more than enough. Eyes already watering, she rushed forward and threw her arms around his middle, squeezing tightly and shivering with the effort of suppressing her sobs. One of his hands reached up to cradle her head close against his shoulder, rocking her very slightly and whispering gentle words of comfort. A few campers and counselors glanced their way, but most of them seemed not to pay much mind to the tearful reunion. Anna watched the pair, feeling warmth at seeing her sister and father finally reunited after so many years.

"I can't believe it's really been so long," Elsa whispered so softly that it almost couldn't be heard. "Dad…"

"I missed you, Elsa." Edgar held her a little tighter and rubbed her back soothingly. "Gosh, it's so good to see you. How have you been, Princess? Keeping out of trouble?"

"Mostly," she conceded. Her eyes flicked very briefly over toward her sister, but didn't linger there. "I'm… very happy that I got to see Anna again. That we could talk; I'm so glad I'm not left guessing why I never heard from her anymore."

Edgar frowned deeply. "I'm so sorry. Had I known what your mother was doing, I would've intervened. She has no right keeping you two away from one another." He gave Elsa a tight squeeze and sighed heavily. "I thought she was better than that."

"So did I," she whispered back, relaxing into the embrace at last. "Seriously, I would never have expected… a-and I didn't believe Anna at first, and now I feel so guilty about that. And angry with Mama, but I don't want to be angry with her!"

Edgar ran his fingers through his elder daughter's hair, as though hoping the action would help soothe Elsa's anger. He stayed quiet for a few minutes and contemplated what to say next. "You have every right to be angry," he murmured finally, laying a kiss on her forehead, "so long as you know to let go of that anger and forgive your mother when you are ready to do so. Isn't that what I taught you true Christianity is about? Love and forgiveness?"

Anna fidgeted herself when she heard her father's advice. It was the same thing he told her when Hans first broke her heart all those years ago and while the pain their mother had caused was worse in comparison to that, the redhead knew deep down that she should do the same for her.

"Alright," her sister promised him readily, nodding against his shoulder. Finally, she sniffled and stood back, wiping at her eyes. "I'll try. And… I'm going to work on it on my drive home. Might call you two to keep me company; I have a car charger and a Bluetooth earpiece, I could probably talk all the way home…"

Edgar grinned. "There you go, that's a wonderful idea. I'm sure you both have loads of stories to share with me and nothing would make this old man happier than to hear them while driving a long six hours." He spared a playful nod at his other daughter. "You can help keep this one busy while I drive, too. She's a bit of a backseat driver and it gets a little irritating."

"You drive worse than I do," Anna commented with a roll of her eyes. "If i didn't, you'd have rolled us ages ago."

"Hey! I got here safely all on my own and only started drifting twice!" their father said, sounding mockingly appalled. Elsa chuckled, but it was the self-conscious chuckle of someone who was not quite sure of whether or not they were allowed to laugh on that occasion.

"We should be going," Anna pointed out as she stepped towards her father and her sister, smiling affectionately as she pulled them both into a crushing group hug. "Otherwise, I think the administers are going to force us to stay and help with the closing cleanup." Despite Edgar's grunt of agreement, none of the family parted. Anna placed a soft kiss on Elsa's cheek, lingering there just long enough to edge on being more than sisterly, before pulling away. "See you later, okay, Snowflake?"

"Of course," she breathed, voice full of emotion. She hugged Anna again, but kept it far shorter than the hugs that they had enjoyed within the cabin. Then she tore herself away, backing toward her own car. "Very soon. And I'll call you!"

Anna found herself struggling to keep herself from dashing towards Elsa's car after her as a lump in her throat made it hard for her to breathe and tears sprang into her eyes. Instead, she reached for her father's hand and gave it a hard squeeze to keep herself still. "Y-you better!" she managed to say, thankfully without too much difficulty. "I-I love you, sis!"

And she was out of there. Once, before pulling out of the parking lot entirely, Elsa stopped and waved out the window to both of them, tears clearly visible along her cheeks. Then she was gone.

"Alright, Anna Banana," her father sighed, clapping her on the shoulder. His eyes were clearly a bit misty, as well. "What do you say we, uh… we find a McD's or something on the way home, eh? Get a sundae or something to celebrate heading home."

Anna nodded and gave her father one more hug. "I'm going to miss her, Papa," she mumbled into his shirt.

"I know, honey. I know." Strong arm still around her, he guided his daughter toward the car.

It wasn't until they were a little further down the road, sitting in the car with their ice cream, that she began a long conversation with "Dad, I have something to tell you…" And it was not an easy one, but Edgar Saunders was patient, and listened as best he could. It was all she could hope for.

                                                   To Be Concluded…

[fuse2dx]

January ‘20

I felt like trying this for a bit again. 

Untitled Goose Game

Where Journey and its ilk blew up the idea of a short, single-visit game, Untitled Goose Game feels closer to the next evolution of this ultra-focused style of design. It’s a perfect elevator pitch of a game - surmised exactingly in its abstract, and not even needing to commit to a ‘proper’ title… and yet more immediate and relatable than countless other games. Your aims are clear and simple, and a compact suite of commands elicits a range of responses from its environments and characters to help you achieve them. How one begets the other is just logical enough to work for its two hour duration, but does suggest it’s unlikely to have had scope to go much beyond this without repetitive tedium, or becoming bewilderingly obtuse. That’s not to say that it’s challenges are totally intuitive, or even that it’s free of moments where janky controls entangle you - but again, you’ll easily endure through it given how briefly you’re expected to stay. The primal appeal of being a horrible goose is easy to be ensnared by, and is neither overdone nor worn thin, once again thanks to the length of it. Its elegance and charm complements the simplicity of it all wonderfully, and though not revolutionary, or pushing any particular aspect of the medium to new highs, the quirk, laughs and originality of it is the type of bottled lightning that is unlikely to be replicated any time soon. Honk. 

Wattam

It’s a game by Keita Takahashi. You can assume plenty; warmth, charm, whimsy, colour, humour - and you’d be right. Divorced of a big studio and the legion of other talent that comes with it, his solo work continues to be mechanically light and missing a few layers of polish, yet is simultaneously far more experimental and groundbreakingly humane than most anything you could care to mention. Trying to explain in regular video game terms what you do is somewhat redundant, but to at least give it a shot; you play a large green square - The Mayor - who’s initially alone, but slowly coerces its population back, repopulating the world through various interactions within it. 

I’ll be straight with you: I’ve had to rewrite this passage, as some of the first sessions I spent with this drove me up the wall and lead to a less-than-favourable commentary. Fully aware that talking predominantly about how it plays was “doing it wrong”, I nevertheless took to highlight how I found the camera frustrating, the characters’ erratic and independent movement to be testing, and the rapid-fire sampling of children’s cries laid over the jazzy background music to be cacophonous and anxiety-provoking rather than joyous. That I persevered and made it through the rest of the game is not to say I don’t still harbour some negativity towards it, but the last portion of the game did do a far better job of bringing me around to its charms than those earlier moments where I felt a bit too much like I was wrestling with it. I knew I wanted to see it all and to love it; the idea of being on the outside of something so light being quite so glum, but it didn’t come quite as easily as I was expecting. Don’t be too put off, but perhaps don’t also expect it to be completely painless either.

Neo Cab

Neo Cab’s setting shines a miserably relatable light on a dystopian city and the people living within it. There’s an increasingly downtrodden population of gig economy workers, a police state whose corporate favouritism is not remotely subtle, and a growing number of people whose sentiment against this climate is rallying them together, and turning to action. There is not a lot of digging required to expose the game’s politics, or to join the dots to whom it really wishes were held to justice.

Normally when talking about visual novels, or even just narratively-focused ones, I tend to find myself on the back foot, expecting folks to turn off, and having to find ways to walk it back to more traditional game tropes. Here, I was actually quite pleased with how well Neo Cab defies any lack of interaction - to the point where I’d actually be pretty comfortable recommending this to near anyone. A big component of this is set up early on; a wearable device is forced upon your character that visibly broadcasts her current mood for all to see. As well as mood limiting what you’re willing to say (crucially though, not stopping you from contemplating these options), it’s also un-conveniently right there on her wrist for folks to see when they’ve hit a nerve. As a cab driver by trade, branching dialogue options you need to assess are incredibly frequent - and give your cues are often assuming, intrusive, or just plain rude - your management of them becomes all the more immediate and crucial. Ride quality influences your rating as a driver as well as your income, which in turn impacts which rides you can take, who you can meet, and who you can rely on in future. Sometimes your choices are simple, whereas other passengers may be more obtuse, or inadvertently land you in a quandary more moral in nature. It’s not a long game, and while I naturally don’t want to say too much, it does a good job of keeping the focus grounded on its key characters, who really make it all tick over nicely. I thought Neo Cab was pretty great - it’s got a simple but stylish look to it, and gives you just enough to think about.

  Demon’s Tilt

Pinball tables may not have changed much in the layman’s eyes over the years, but video game versions certainly have. In paying quite unsubtle homage to Naxat’s series of tables that blessed a number of 16-bit systems, the passage of near three decades has given Demon’s Tilt plenty of space to grow into. Larger, higher resolution screens gives us bigger play spaces and more detailed imagery, while increased technical grunt lends itself to a seemingly limitless crescendo of frenetic, often incomprehensible action. I mean, why not throw a little bullet hell into the mix? Goodness grief. 

Given my particular fondness for Devil’s Crash, which to Demon’s Tilt is the clearest, most singular inspiration, I was naturally drawn to this. I’d played a little before in early access, but a more complete Switch version was appealing enough to revisit it. I was already safe in the knowledge that it’d managed to build upon and flatter my favourite pinball game without reducing itself to an imitation, but the option of portable play (with a FlipGrip, even) was particularly exciting. As it happens, trying to condense so much to a small screen wasn’t quite such the modern convenience I’d hoped - it’s a neat showcase, but quite impractical to actually play with. Not thrusting yourself within an inch of the screen and having to squint may give a smidgen more a fighting chance, but a bigger display also allows you to appreciate the slick blend of neon effects spewing themselves over the striking gothic imagery. The music contributes yet more welcome intensity to things, and though I’ve begrudged a few near misses and unfortunate bounces, in calm retrospect it’s clear the this is far more a reflection of my skill rather than any lack in ball physics. For those who are practised in ways I am not, the table itself has plenty of opportunity to flex your muscle, but even though my games aren’t the feats of endurance I’d wish for, I’m still coming away each time clamouring to go straight back in. 

198X

I missed this game’s crowdfunding attempts, but after seeing its trailer - a moody and romanticised nod to all things 80s arcade culture - it was very clear this was making a direct appeal to my sensibilities. It’s a coming of age story about a bored suburban teen, whose discovery of the local arcade ‘changes everything’. Now, I love arcades far more than most, but even I found the story to be over-egged. The Kid’s monologuing through the game’s cut-scenes jumps at such breakneck speed that it genuinely made me feel uncomfortable about their state of mind. Pre-arcade, all is miserly and monotone, whereas the escapism they indulge in after this discovery is worryingly unhinged. The pixel art propping them up may be quite tasty, but I think most people will find the story being pushed to be a touch cringeworthy. 

The game that’s book-ended by these scenes are actually a series of mini-games, each clearly inspired by a particular 80s title. In short clips and stills, you could be fooled into thinking these are not just dutifully upgraded, but maybe even improved homages to the given classics. Visually, yes, there is some argument to be made here as there is some terrific pixel artistry being conducted here, but as there’s only about 15 minutes of each to play, it’s no surprise that some corners have had to be cut. Generally speaking, the balance  of each isn’t quite so nuanced, and unsurprisingly this leans towards them being easier than you’d expect, but there’s specific shortcomings in each too. For example: definitely-not-Final Fight has some shocking collision detection, and of particular disappointment for myself, definitely-not-Outrun has but one gear, and hardly any impression of speed. While not fatal flaws, my point is simply that you’d not choose to play these over the original games they intend to pay their respects to. A second part being teased at the shortly-reached end is likely a downer for those expecting value, but I think it’s two-hour runtime is probably just about right considering it’s best viewed as a novelty. 

[caitlinmargaritareads]

Book 23- Pet Sematary by Stephen King

[Originally posted November 10, 2019]

It has taken me quite a while to articulate this review, and I’m still not 100% sure how to begin. After a week of putting pen to paper [and scratching out the pen to rewrite], I still come up short with my review for this novel. Let me start by saying it has taken a year of coaxing and talking myself up to be able to pick this book up. Over a year ago, a very kind customer of mine gave me two brown, paper sacks filled with all of her Stephen King books [partially due to my sudden interest and mostly due to her sudden need to Marie Kondo her place]. I immediately tore through The Shining, Carrie, and Misery, but subsequently had weird and unsettling dreams which made me take a break from King. Generally speaking, I like to choose titles based on the time of year [in the winter, I like to settle in with something dense that I can use as an excuse to stay in, and in the summer I opt for lighter, fun fiction that I can breeze through], so this year I decided to follow suit with Halloween and read the scariest book that I could imagine- Pet Sematary. Being an older title, many of my friends and acquaintances were excited for me to join the King Club by reading what is dubbed one of his scariest novels. I, however, had my doubts. As I’m sure has been established on here [many, many times], I am NOT a fan of horror or being scared. I will never understand why people choose to be scared and I’ve determined that it’s a switch in my brain which has been left dusty and unused [and I’m totally okay with that]. Pet Sematary forced me to take a giant leap into the unknown, and allowed me to expand my reading interests into a genre that I had only dappled in previously. I will try my best to concisely summarize the plot [emphasis on the word “try”] and then offer my own critical review of the text. As opposed to some of my other reviews, THERE ARE SPOILERS, so please be warned and skip the rest of this review if you are unfamiliar with the plot and wish to read it yourself.

The story follows the Creed family- Louis, Rachel, and their two children Ellie and Gage- as they move from Chicago to Ludlow, Maine for Louis to work as a doctor on the local college campus. As they begin exploring their new home, they meet their new neighbor, Jud Crandall, who immediately welcomes them and settles the unease that Louis had been feeling. Jud, a lifelong resident of Ludlow, gives them the lay of the land, warning them about the dangers of the main road they live on and pointing out the trailhead behind their property, on which he offers to give them a guided adventure. As promised, after a few days of unpacking and settling into their new house, Jud takes the family on a seemingly innocent trip down to the Pet Sematary- a small burial ground for the local children’s deceased pets. He shows them the space where his own childhood dog, Spot, is buried, and when asked about the deadfall of branches near the back of the sematary, he warns them to stay away. The trip to the sematary leaves the family disgruntled and unsettled- Rachel disapproves of their children’s close encounter with death, and Ellie becomes hysterically frantic that their cat, Church, will die and be put in the sematary. Louis soothes the woes and worries of his family, promising never to take his children back.

Normalcy sets in for the Creed’s, until Louis’s first day on the job when a young man named Victor Pascow is brought to the clinic. Irreparably maimed in a car accident and drawing what seem to be his last breaths, Victor comes to in Louis’s arms, grinning at Louis as he mutters this warning- “It’s not the real cemetary.” Louis, shocked by the young man’s alertness, cannot seem to respond as Victor continues, “The soil of a man’s heart is stonier, Louis… a man grows what he can… and tends to it.” Victor’s whole body dies at once, leaving Louis terrified, clutching the corpse, and grasping for some logical answer to this episode. Later that night after Louis falls asleep, Pascow comes to his bedside and guides a reluctant Louis down to the Pet Sematary. Pointing towards the deadfall behind the sematary, he warns, “Don’t go beyond, no matter how much you feel you feel you need to… the barrier was not made to be broken… Your destruction and the destruction of all you love is very near…” When Louis wakes hours later, he is convinced it was all an unsettling dream until he pulls back the sheets to reveal muddy feet covered in pine needs. The logical part of Louis’s brain takes over, trying to rationalize the insane experience. Soon the dream is all but forgotten, until the fateful day that Church is run over by a semi truck on the main road and killed.

Led by his trusty neighbor Jud, Louis has his first encounter with the Micmac burial ground beyond the deadfall, where he buries Church and is told the history of the tribe. The next day, Church saunters into the garage where Louis is working, smelling of sour earth, with pieces of plastic bag stuck in his whiskers. None too surprised, Louis brings the cat inside and feeds it, repulsed by the blasphemous presence of his daughter’s dead cat. Louis tries to rationalize with himself, thinking that the cat must’ve been stunned and not dead when he was buried. But Church does not seem to be his spry old self, walking in funny patterns and lacking the grace of a real cat, leaving Louis with a shadow of a doubt that he did, in fact, bring the cat back to life. When Ellie sees her old cat, she immediately notices the smell, and the fact that there is something off with Church. The family seems to ignore the glaring differences though, and continue on with their lives as usual while Church continues to exhibit more and more out-of-character behavior.

The plot finally comes to it’s point when their toddler Gage, is run over and killed by a semi on the main road. Distraught and unable to come to terms with his death, Louis sends his wife and daughter to Chicago to stay with his in-laws as he begins to plot his son’s second burial. Knowing what he plans to do, Jud harshly warns Louis to leave Gage in peace and tells the story of another local who brought back his son and was driven to murder/suicide after the fact. Unmoved, Louis continues with his plan and buries Gage at the Micmac burial ground. Gage comes back, possessed with unflinching evil, and murders both Jud Crandall and Rachel before Louis is able to kill him for good. Louis, unhinged by the horrors he has seen and convinced that he “waited too long” with Gage’s reburial, takes Rachel’s corpse up to the Micmac cemetery . “Darling,” it mutters, and then the story ends.

I want to start off by saying, I really liked this book. It scared the bejesus out of me, but it was so worth it. If you’ve read King, you know he likes to drag out the story [much like this particular review I’m writing]. He painfully details the protagonist’s backstory as a dramatic build up to the climax, and this can often lead some readers [myself included] to internally scream, “GET ON WITH IT!” However, with Pet Sematary I feel as if this technique truly lent to the creation of the story and was absolutely essential to the climax of the plot. While the idea of a cemetery in general gives me the creeps, what is even more unsettling is the slow unraveling of Louis’s mind. Whenever he tries to make logical sense of a situation [i.e. Church’s resurrection], he compromises another piece of his rational mind, and the more he does this, the more likely he is to do something rash and unreasonable. Now, I would make the argument that the presence of the Micmac burial ground [and it’s demons, spirits, etc.] are mainly responsible for the undoing of Louis Creed. I enjoy when a supernatural entity is the antagonist [its extra spooky when an unseeable evil occupies any story], and King does a grand job of creating this wicked presence which subtly alters and influences the minds of anyone who has visited the Micmac burial ground. Jud himself admits to wrong-doing by bringing Louis there, claiming there is a draw to the burial ground for all who have visited, and it is presumed that anyone who has been there will fall under the same spell. Talk about creepy!

The one thing I have an issue with is how quickly Gage is resurrected and then killed again. Now, don’t get me wrong, every single word that involved zombie Gage is horrifying and left knots in my stomach- Even now, I shudder as I think of Gage taunting Jud in his own kitchen before going in for the kill. BUT, it seemed to me that after ALL that build up, we should’ve gotten more time with possessed toddler Gage before he gets killed. The other point which had no resolution, and which I did not summarize, is Ellie’s sudden onset of clairvoyance after Gage’s death. As soon as her little brother dies, Ellie begins having horrible dreams about her family and the Pet Sematary. When Louis sends Ellie and Rachel back to Chicago, Ellie goes insane with worry and anxiety, convinced that something horrible is going to happen to Louis [or happen because of Louis] in their absence. In her dreams, Paxcow [aka Victor Pascow] comes to her, warning that Louis is in danger. When they finally get to Chicago, Ellie’s hysteria becomes so uncontrollable that Rachel decides to immediately turn around and go back to Ludlow to check on Louis [which is how she ends up murdered by her dead son]. King, however, does not go back to Ellie at all once Rachel leaves Chicago. This leads the reader to question what Ellie may already know, and whether or not she will end up back in Ludlow with her insane father and re-animated mother. My hope is that Ellie stays with her grandparents and never has to see her parents again- and maybe, hopefully, we get a sequel a la Doctor Sleep?!

All in all, this book was fantastically horrifying in all the right ways. I truly understand why this book is considered one of King’s best and most terrifying novels, and I would say I have to agree. If you’re a fan of a good thriller, and this review hasn’t completely ruined your will to read it, I recommend giving it a try. I’d loan you mine, but the back cover just fell off. If you’ve made it through this review, congratulations! I am currently cross eyed and giving up on any further edits or alterations.

5 out of 5 stars