#I wanted to volunteer to help clean up the cemetery but they already have more volunteers than they need

[bountyhaunter]

TIMING: Spring PARTIES: Sai & Daiyu LOCATION: A park in nightfall groove SUMMARY: Daiyu and Sai are spring cleaning and happen upon a cursed amulet. CONTENT: N.A.

Usually Sai tried to keep his more human-adjacent activities outside of Nightfall Groove. There were quite a few vampires, particularly in the neighborhood, he’d rather didn’t notice them. Only, when he heard the spring cleaning effort was coming to a small park near the cemetery, he thought of the potential disruption to the woodland bats who had started roosting there just a week earlier and couldn’t stay away. And that’s how he found himself joining the very human cleaning effort in the neighborhood. He shouldn’t have been too worried. The cleanup hadn’t been that disruptive so far. Mostly just clearing out neglected litter that had accumulated over the past years. Although he did have to talk one overenthusiastic member of the cleaning group out of climbing up into one of the trees. Why they thought that was a good idea, or what trash they’d expected to find there wasn’t clear. 

It was mid-afternoon, but already dark in the neighborhood. Their work was lit by the park’s flickering light posts, as Sai and another volunteer cleaned around an old cracked fountain, half dried up and covered in layers of moss and mold. “I didn’t catch your name,” he said to her. “I’m Sai.” He shoved a stray candy wrapper into the trash bag he held in his other hand. “Are you from the neighborhood, or just here to be a good samaritan?” 

—-

Daiyu wasn’t sure who she was any more. Something was happening to her. She was changing. She was transforming. She was like a werewolf, slowly completely altering every bit of herself to become something else. Shifting shape. Because Daiyu was volunteering to clean up a place that wasn’t her own home. But the Good Neighbors (the non-kidnapping division, mostly) were helping out to clean the town and she had grown to like the normal human people who just wanted to do something good and didn’t have dreams about cleaning blood from hands or decapitated werewolves.

So she helped. She was cleaning the town. She was there to step in, too, should any strange creatures jump from the dirty corners of the town. Someone had to step in then, and it better not be Nancy. She was squeamish around mice, and Daiyu didn’t want to see her cry over a carbuncle or household fae.

All this wasn’t to say that Daiyu was good at cleaning. She was bad at it. But she was good at looking busy, so she was shoveling and brushing and rubbing around and on the fountain, feeling a nice sense of community even if she was doing a horrible job. When someone approached her, she gave a smile and a hand. She really was transforming. (She was buying off her guilt.) “Hi! I’m Daiyu.” She looked around. “I mean, not really, but I’m from town! I’m with the Good Neighbors.” She hoped he wouldn’t ask to join. “So a good … saramitan, yes.” Daiyu had no idea what it was. Bible study had not been part of her youth. “What about you?” 

–

“The Good Neighbors? I haven’t heard of them.” Sai said, but the name sounded familiar. “Is that like a neighborhood watch?” Some people in Nightfall Grove had formed a neighborhood watch maybe twenty or so years ago now, after an unusually large number of disappearances. But everyone in the watch had been normal humans, and their nighttime patrols really just ended up being easy meals. The effort hadn’t lasted long. And he didn’t remember them doing any cleaning in town. So maybe this was unrelated.

“I only came out because I heard the cleaning was happening here,” Sai said. He wasn’t ashamed to admit this wasn’t usually his idea of an afternoon well spent, even if it was for Daiyu. She seemed enthusiastic enough to be here. “There are some native bats living in the park.” He gestured over to the trees lining the side of the park just past the fountain. “I thought there was a chance you all might bother them with the cleaning and figured I might as well join to keep an eye on things.” 

Maybe he should feel a sense of satisfaction with the visible improvement to the park in the last few hours, but mostly he was looking forward to being done with the project. He gave an apprehensive look at the basin of the fountain as he talked to Daiyu. Filled with gunk and scattered piles of litter and rotting leaves, he’d been putting off that part, and was dreading the inevitable. There was only one way to pick up all that trash, and he was not feeling enthusiastic about climbing into the thing. “How thorough do you think we need to be?”

—

“Yup, pretty much!” Both her p’s popped as she said the words. Daiyu wasn’t sure how to make the Good Neighbors both seem good – because they were, or at least, they were supposed to be – and how to dissuade the other from joining. There was something wrong about using ignorant humans as a front for the other side of the operation. They just wanted to do something good – a foolish yet convincing notion that continued to entice her – and yet they were a crucial part in something they couldn’t begin to understand.

But it seemed the other had a topic of conversation and she bit down onto it. “Cool, though, for you to show up. And bats, you say?” Her eyes blinked at the trees. She came across bats sometimes in the woods, but never thought much of them. She just tried to leave them be, mostly — it was other creatures she was worried about. Creatures that probably bothered bats. “Cool. They’re sleeping now, right? Nocturnal and stuff.” That she did know. “I’ll definitely steer clear from ‘em. Maybe you wanna point out where it is? I’ll let everyone know to not bother them. We’re … good …” She grinned. They were good. Or, at least, the ignorant humans were. 

The trash was definitely not her main interest of the day. It was just nice to be out and with people, to use one of those grabber tools to pick up mossy, gunky trash and wave it at Nancy. (Nancy was a Good Neighbor over the age of sixty, who made Daiyu feel a kind of warmth she figured others felt around their mothers. Or something like that. She tended to smell like soup, so maybe that was why she seemed warm.) But she wasn’t around and it was just, her grabber tool, the trash and the Sai. She shrugged. “I mean, someone else … might step by and finish up if we can’t finish it … if you want to take a break? Look at bats?”

—

“I didn’t think a neighborhood watch did a lot of cleaning,” Sai said, not feeling much clearer on the details of what the Good Neighbors did. “What I remember… hearing was that it was more about looking out for crime, that sort of thing.” But maybe they had been doing the cleaning on the side the last time there’d been one, and he and the other vampires just hadn’t noticed. The Noxferatu didn’t have a habit of keeping track of most mundane human affairs.  

But it was easy enough for him to fall easily into talking about bats when Daiyu asked about them. “They’re usually nocturnal. But I think the darkness in the neighborhood can throw off their schedule here, sometimes.” He smiled. “It probably does for some of the people living here, too.” For the humans, anyway. Not having to sleep made it easier for Sai to keep whatever schedule he liked, as long as there wasn’t any sunlight to burn him. He pointed to the line of trees where he’d last seen the bats. “The ones in the park live over there, where one of your friends tried to do some climbing earlier,” he said, hoping the point he was making wasn’t lost on her.

She might have been making fun of him when she offered for him to leave, but Sai really would rather be with the bats right now than cleaning. Although, when she said someone would finish here, his guess was that someone was probably going to be Daiyu. And he felt a little bad about leaving the whole mess to her. She seemed nice and happy to help out, with the trash and the park’s bats too. He’d made it this far, he might as well help her finish the worst job before leaving the rest to this neighborhood watch’s people. “Let’s finish here, and then I might take you up on that offer,” he said. He climbed into the fountain with his trash bag, and started in on the piles of trash inside.

—

Daiyu shrugged. She had no clue what a regular neighborhood watch did, to be honest. “We want to keep the town safe. Trash is … dangerous.” It could very well be. There could be malicious creatures or forces hiding in it, or there was the whole environmental debate. She didn’t know that one very well. “And yes! It is also about keeping crime and other nefarious things to a minimum. Littering is a crime, you know.” She grinned. 

“Hm, probably. This neighborhood is very well named.” She didn’t often bother the undead – with an exception for the more beastly types – but Daiyu knew that Nightfall Groove was an epicenter for that kind of supernatural from having shared a few dreams with slayers at the hunter bar. It did mean that she wouldn’t be surprised if some kind of creature would start giving them trouble, considering the magnetism of supernatural hubs in this town. Bats were just little guys, though. “That’s nice though, they probably have more time to do the things they wanna if it’s dark more often, right?”

Fine, she could keep cleaning. It was her duty of the day. “Alright then.” And so she continued to pick up some trash with her grabber tool, tossing it into the bag she was carrying. There was something incredibly dull about it, but the rhythm of it was nice at the same time. Daiyu crouched down after a while, intrigued by something that shimmered. “Whoa,” she said. “Look at this.” Fingers reached for a necklace, an old looking thing. “Why’d someone toss this in a fountain, huh?” She pulled it out and held it in front of her neck. “What d’ya think?” 

—

“What’s dangerous about trash?” Sai said. He wasn’t sure if she was joking or not. He couldn’t think what it was a danger to, except maybe the city’s public image. So, another night watch then. He’d be curious to see if they’d start showing up to the cemeteries eventually, like the last ones did, or if they’d get eaten looking for crime somewhere else first. 

Sai titled his head, thinking for a moment at Daiyu’s comment about bats. He hadn’t thought about that, actually. But the bats didn’t have the same advantage of the vampires on that front. “Well, the bats do still have to sleep, so it just gets a bit more erratic.”

“Maybe they dropped it?” Sai walked over to Daiyu, as she held up some object she’d found. “Do you mind?” He said, gently grabbing the charm to take a look at it. It shined oddly in the light from the streetlamp. “I wonder if it’s valuable,” he said, turning it over, before handing it back to her. Daiyu might be able to sell it. It might be harder to get rid of it with the pawn shop being replaced by some seafood stand, but maybe Craigslist would come through.��

He was about to say as much to Daiyu, but when he opened his mouth to say it nothing came out. And he was overcome but the oddest urge. “I think,” he started. And as he said it, his arms raised above him, almost involuntarily, and his hips started to wiggle. He stopped moving, and the moment he did, he was unable to speak again. “I think you could try to sell —“ he didn’t finish the whole phrase, as he was unable to speak without jumping back and forth, his arms gesturing to her then out to the world around him. He stopped moving and stopped talking, not sure how to proceed, or what had just happened. Sai gave Daiyu a look that he hoped she could interpret as I have no idea what just happened.

—

“Um, well, there’s glass in it sometimes. You could seriously hurt yourself on glass in trash,” she said sagely. “And it’s dangerous for the environment! The oceans are rising and all.” Daiyu thought she was making a very good anti-trash case right now. Nancy would be proud of her and hopefully pat her on the back. “People throw dangerous things away all the time, it’s a real issue.”

She nodded as if she totally understood, “Got it. So they just have fucked up sleep routines, then? Or do they just vibe and fuck around?” She understood. Her sleeping habits were very bad, in part because she worked during the night a lot.

A burst of possessiveness flushed through her as Sai took the piece of jewelry from her. She had found it — it was hers, and so would be the money she’d get for it at a pawn shop. (It did not fit her, she’d known that before she even hung it in front of her chest.) But he gave it back to her soon enough and she pulled it close before letting it sink into a pocket, ready to answer his question about whether it was valuable or not when something happened.

Sai started to dance. Daiyu looked incredulous, her face falling into a look of disbelief. She wanted to let out a burst of laughter but it took a while for the sound to come out and when it did, it was only because she’d started moving herself. Daiyu did a pirouette as she laughed and came to a halt when she was silent. “What –” She placed once hand on her hip, “The,” Another hand on another hip, “Fuck???” She circled her hips around and jumped. Soon enough she danced some more, arms moving around as she exclaimed at her own body, “Hey, hello — I am not doing this, there’s not even — Jesus, hello?”

—

Sai could get behind cleaning the oceans, although if that were part of it, the beach litter might have been a better focus. The glass made sense too, if these people were looking out for local children. He wasn’t sure how to answer her question about the bats, though. He couldn’t decipher the difference between the two things she was saying. Was she asking about bat sex? But he dropped other lines of conversation after the dancing started. It seemed the more pressing thing for the moment.

“Any time I talk,” Sai said, as he started doing a skipping motion, arms waving in front of him. “This happens.” It looks like whatever this was had her too. He glanced around the park, and saw two other volunteers having a chat by a park bench, no dancing involved. “Do you think – is it the fountain?” There was the necklace, but he wasn’t touching it anymore, and he was still standing in the fountain. He started making his way back over to the edge, doing a slideway slide move, swinging into a rhythmic four-step turn halfway through. Apparently, walking normally was off-limits too.

—

Daiyu didn’t dance, except when alone with the curtains drawn and the music so loud that she felt her senses explode with it. Then, she danced with nothing holding her back, but at parties? Among people? She preferred to nod her head and tap her foot and let that be it. But here she was. She’d just done a pirouette as well as the back end of the macarena and she could feel an urge rise. It was kind of like how she felt like she was angry, unable to suppress the emotions ravaging through her until they erupted out.

It wasn’t the urge to punch something, though (even if that was kind of present as well), but rather the urge to do the Wormy. “Me too,” she said, and she started to wiggle like she’d seen in local instruction videos. “That’s really unfortunate because I’m a great – fuck – talker!” She looked at the fountain, wondered if this had caused it or if it was something else. Daiyu knew this had to be supernatural in some kind of way and tried to rack her brain about cursed fountains but came up empty. She wormied her way out of the fountain, body convulsing with the popular craze as she flopped out. “I –” Her body opted for another dance now, hands on her hips and ass shaking. She’d definitely never been that good at this before. (She’d practiced in the mirror a lot.) “I don’t think so.”

—

Daiyu did some movement that Sai recognized from social media, as she spoke. Worming or something like that. Her moves were flawless too. Both of their dancing followed some unspoken rhythm, which was even more impressive considering there was no music. This was no dancing at the laundromat. The writhing around had a professional polish to it, like they each knew what they were doing. 

“Maybe it’s proximity,” Sai said, but dropped what he was holding as he shimmied from side to side, just in case it was a case of cursed trash bags or something. “That or maybe something affected us, and it’s not wearing off.” At the side of the fountain, he did a graceful spin out, and landed with dramatic flourish. “But if that was it, I don’t know the first thing we could do about it.” And he had no reason to think she did either. But he wasn’t looking forward to spending all the rest of his eternal life dancing. Maybe it would wear off eventually? He had to hope. Nobody would take him seriously if he was doing a jig when talking about the newest bat initiative. 

—

Curses were real, like most things (except werewolf-vampire hybrids, as far as she knew). Daiyu knew as much and she was starting to get the sneaking suspicion that she’d been cursed. This was why she was here, wasn’t it? To protect the humans from the threats that could be hiding in the trash? She’d just expected it to be beast form, and not the kind of form that made her do the Wormy without meaning to. At least she was doing it perfectly.

They were both out of the fountain now and Daiyu opened her mouth, hoping that nothing would happen once she spoke, “I guess —” She started doing a waltz, “— Oh, fuck! So it’s not the fountain, is it?” She waltzed further away from it, looking at the amulet in her hands. She tossed it away, and the grunt she made had her continue her dance. “Shitting hell.” Where this sudden sense of rhythm came from, she didn’t know, but it really was one of a kind. She looked over at Sai. “I probably know – a – guy –” Her words were interjected with interpretive dance jerks. “Maybe.” Nudging a spellcaster seemed wisest, and if not that, a warden. Fae magic was weird as fuck, after all.

— 

“I really couldn’t tell you,” Sai said. as he stepped in a square, his arms going around some invisible partner in a tasteful way, like how he imagined an actor might mime in a one man dancing show. Not that Sai had any plans to debut his own. He would be danced out for awhile after this. “I don’t know anything that causes spontaneous dancing. I’d hope it’d go away on its own if we waited long enough, but I’m also not that interested in testing that.” 

It was perfect that Daiyu knew someone who might be able to help, because Sai didn’t have any better leads. And he definitely didn’t know a guy. Not for this. It was possible a couple of the Noxferatu might know something. But if brought one of them into this, it might end with them eating Daiyu, and he felt like the two of them were in this together now. And he’d rather not have to explain why he was working on a human clean-up crew for the day. He didn’t think they’d get it. “Well, if you know someone who might be able to help us, I think now’s a good time to give them a call.” His words came out timed to the beat of a few rhythmic kicks. “Do you have your phone on you? You can use mine if you need.” 

—

“Maybe –” She rolled over the ground, laying her cheek flat against the pavement as if it was a soft thing to land on, before a head roll and getting to her feet again. Modern dance was weird, even if her body was doing a good job at it. “It will end out of nowhere.” Daiyu’s body did not agree with this sentiment, however, and continued to drag her around as if moved by melodramatic music. “But I doubt it.” 

Her network was scattered and strange, but she did have a network. Bounty hunting meant she came across plenty of strange folks, after all, and most of them did hold her in some kind of okayish regard. She didn’t really know much about spellcasters, though — just that they sometimes wanted weird shit and paid good money. “I — yep, totally, I don’t go anywhere without it!” As she was saying that, she had started venturing into a different type of dance that made her feel like she was in a musical. She reached into her pockets between moves and scrolled through her contact list, which was vast and nonsensical. Under ‘S’ there were a few casters, most of them with just initials or emojis. She picked one with a wolf. It rang for a while and in the time she was muted, she was glad to be standing still. Her eyes fell on the amulet, abandoned on the ground, and remained on it when the phone was answered, “Heeeeey …” She didn’t remember the other person’s name. “My guy. It’s — Daiyu! I got you that — yup, yup, that’s me, sorry about the mud, yup.” As she prattled on, she started to throw her ass in a circle. “Got a – minor problem – yes, yeah – hmhm.” She gestured at Sai, then at the amulet. “Best if you see it in action.” 

[solarpunksoup]

solarpunk anti-boredom activities

learn how to make soap

mend or darn something

pick up trash along your street (i should actually start always carrying a bag for this, i get laser focused and it really is a good boredom buster)

figure out what to use different food scraps for

organize a shared meal with friends/neighbors

make posters to hang up locally

learn how to make your own hygiene products

join a buy nothing facebook group for your area

crochet or knit something (start a sweater, hats, socks!!, wash rags)

donate some books to a free little library

check in with your local library about community activities

attend a school board or other community meeting

read the local newspaper or watch the news

look into joining a union if you haven’t already

bring some cookies to a neighbor (i did this once, bc i liked their upcycled house decor! they were so sweet 10/10 recommend!)

send an email to a local/state politician about something important or something you want to happen in your area

start a community cabinet/box with things people might need, like toothbrushes, soap, etc., and a change jar to supply it. people donate and take what they need. place it in your dorm commons, at work, in school, etc

go to your library! donate to your library! borrow from your library! the more the library is used, the more likely its budget will remain important to the community

instead of buying from a supermarket or even a thrift store, try going to yard sales! it gives directly to the people in your community and you can make friends and find new activities that are going on. this is especially good for buying dvds and stuff so you don’t have to pay for rentals or streaming services (if you’re into that)

research digital minimalism

see if your town is organizing any local events, like a blueberry festival, holiday party, etc. (you can usually check their facebook page!)

start a clothing closet at your school! if you already have one, offer to help organize it and mend/clean the donated items

learn how to can foods and make foods that can be canned

dry some seeds from your garden

donate to your local food banks, or go volunteer there if you can! you can always help the elderly people take their groceries out to their car

some cemeteries are volunteer run. pick up garbage in the area, or ask if you can help out, someone might be able to train you on headstone care

volunteer at a nursing home, or just go spend time there. the elderly need to be a priority in our activism, and they are important and more than worthy of our love and energy

if you’re looking for fresh produce, see if anyone in your area has any vegetable stands up before you go to the store. maybe take a drive or bike ride one day and look for them, or send an inquiry out in a local facebook or community group

feel free to add more if you have any ideas!!

[thatfanficstuff]

Impossible-13

Pairing: Eric Northman x reader

Warnings: Canon typical. Feelings.

A/N: A friendly reminder that I have changed Canon. Amy and Jason weren’t a thing. Therefore they didn’t take Eddie. Which means Lafeyette is not in Eric’s basement. Amongst other things.

***

Sam had already started to come around by the time Sookie knelt over him. He returned with her to check on you and you quickly averted your gaze. There were some things you were perfectly happy not knowing. “Clothes, Sam. Then go to Sook’s and call the cops. See if you can find my phone while you’re there. It should be in the living room somewhere.

He hesitated only a moment before nodding and hurrying off to do as you asked without argument. That was a nice change.

Sookie settled onto the ground beside you and took your hand in hers. “You saved me. Thank you.”

You hummed in acknowledgment not willing to expend the energy it would take to say anything else. Suddenly, you coughed and groaned at the pain that rolled through you with the action. You may be more resilient than the average human, but a bullet in the chest was a bullet in the chest. You could only be thankful that it had apparently missed anything vital. You assumed so anyway since you were still breathing. You kept your breaths shallow to keep your chest from moving too much. God, you hurt.

Sam returned with your phone about the time you heard sirens in the distance. “Thanks,” you said as he slipped it into your hand. You almost immediately dropped it. “Fuck.” There was nothing more frustrating than a body that didn’t work the way it was supposed to. You stretched your fingers and rubbed your hand against your leg trying to wake it up.

When you fumbled with it again, Sookie gently pulled it away from you. “What are you trying to do?”

You cleared your throat and winced. “Missed calls.”

Her eyes went wide as she looked at the screen and you chuckled. You figured. “27. They all say Eric or Pop.”

Before you could tell her to call Eric, your phone rang again. “Answer it. Put it on speaker.”

“Yeah,” you greeted when Sookie had done as you asked. Your voice was tight, pained.

“Y/N?” Eric’s frantic voice washed over you. “Are you all right? What the hell is going on?”

“We’re still a couple of hours from sundown. Someone needs to drive me to you.” You managed to get the words out through the pain. You weren’t certain how long you could keep doing so. It had been a long time since you hurt this bad. Fucking Rene. Drew. Whatever the fuck his name was. Asshole.

“What is her condition, Sookie?” His voice had taken on that hard edge it got when he was worried. Or angry. Probably both at the moment.

“How’d you know I was here?” she asked.

“I can hear you breathing. Answer the question.”

“I-I’m not sure. There’s a lot of blood.” Her voice trembled and Sam wrapped an arm around her.

“And the person responsible?” If this were a different situation, you would have been turned on by that dark, protective note in his voice. No one ever said you didn’t have your issues.

Sookie swallowed and grimaced as she glanced at the asshole’s body. “Dead.”

“You are certain?”

You huffed a laugh at the disappointment that colored his words then groaned in pain. “Fuck you,” you managed to get out and Eric chuckled in response.

Two police cars and an ambulance wailed to a stop on the road in front of the cemetery. “The ambulance is here. Maybe she should just go to the hospital,” Sam piped up.

“No,” you and Eric said in unison.        

The corner of your mouth twitched. At least the two of you agreed on something.

“Company?” he asked.

The other two looked confused so you answered him. “Ballentine.”

“Give me a moment.”

The EMTs knelt beside you as the cops shouted questions. You ignored them all, the edges of your vision going fuzzy. That’s no good. Hurry up, Eric.

You no sooner had the thought then he returned. “I’ll see you soon. And I’ll call your father.” Damn, he must be really worried if he was volunteering to call Roman.

He hung up and one of the EMT’s phones started to ring. After a quick conversation, he knelt down and looked you in the eye. “You’re all taken care of. Let’s get you out of here.”

An excruciating wave of pain swamped you as they lifted you onto the gurney and everything went black.

***

Awareness came slowly. Fingers sweeping strands of hair from your face. A low voice making promises and declarations, though you only understood about half of them. Arms holding you against the chest you leaned on.

“Awaken, mitt allt. You must drink.” Eric’s voice was a comforting buzz in your ear even if you didn’t care for the pleading note it carried.

You grasped onto one of his arms as you shifted to make yourself more comfortable. A hiss accompanied the pain motion brought with it. Eric sighed in relief and some of the tension flowed from his body. He wouldn’t completely relax until you were healed.

He bit into his wrist before holding it to your mouth. You pressed your lips to his skin and sucked the healing liquid into your mouth. At first you were timid, tender but as your body began to stitch back together you held his wrist against your lips. You drank deeply then, eager to rid yourself of the agony you’d been living in since the cemetery. Eric shifted beneath you with a moan and you smirked as you pulled away.

You maintained the grip on his arm and held it against your chest as you nestled your head further into his. The fingers of his free hand ran through your hair as the two of you just relished being in each other’s presence. “Better?” he finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Better,” you agreed.

His hand shifted so his fingers trailed down your spine and back up. “No more helping the riffraff unless I accompany you.”

You sighed but didn’t say anything not really caring to get into an argument at the moment.

“Do you have any idea how close you were to death? How much blood you lost? I could feel you growing weaker with every passing second and there was nothing I could do.” He took a deep breath. “I realize that you may be willing to sacrifice yourself to do what you think is right, but are you willing to sacrifice me? Because if you die, I will as well. My fate has been tied to yours from the moment I met you. As much as I tried to deny it, that is the truth.”

“Fine,” you said after a moment’s thought. “But the same goes for you. No secrets, Eric. Let me help you. What good is having Roman for my father if I can’t use it to our advantage?”

He laughed as you’d wanted him to when you said it. You tilted your head back so you could see his face. His gaze met yours for a brief moment, then he leaned forward and kissed you. You ran your fingers through his hair and held him to you. When you finally separated, he leaned his forehead against yours. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, too.” You tugged on his hair a bit and his brow furrowed. “Can I cut your hair?”

He grinned. “Pam will have my hide, but you may do as you wish.”

***

After you called your father to check in, you and Eric showered together in silence as you washed your blood from one another. Even though his blood had healed you, Eric was still taking care of you as though you needed it. He dried you off with one of the fluffy towels from his warmer before helping you dress in a pair of your sweats and one of his t-shirts. While he poured you a drink and ordered dinner, you changed the sheets on his bed so it would be ready in the morning.

“I could have done that,” he said and you looked up to find him leaning in the doorway.

You shrugged. “I’m just as capable. Get me what I need and I’ll cut your hair while we talk.”

Once the two of you were ready, you started on his hair. It was a few minutes before you started to tell the story of what happened that day. You only paused when the doorbell rang signaling the food was there. You sat it on the counter and went to finish up Eric’s hair. It was pretty good all things considered. And he hated going to a salon.

“And what did our little telepath think about you decapitating your assailant?” It was the first thing he’d said since you’d started talking.

“Pretty sure she was just glad she wasn’t dead at that point, Eric.” You ran your fingers through his hair to make sure everything was even, touching up as needed.

“Don’t be surprised if she distances herself. Humans often have difficulty accepting the necessity of our actions.”

You rolled your eyes. “Seriously? You’re going to talk to me about people distancing themselves?” You took the towel from his neck and dropped it onto the one at your feet. You could clean it up later. You were starving.

He stood and wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you to him. His lips trailed up the line of your neck. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed if it should happen.”

You shrugged. You learned long ago that friendships were fickle things, even if you did save them from psychotic serial killers. “I’ll be fine.” You patted his chest. “Now, let’s eat. I’m so hungry.”

He laughed as he released his hold and followed you to the kitchen. The two of you sat at the table with your plates and you immediately dug in. “There is something we should discuss,” he said once you’d gotten some food into your belly.

You arched a brow and motioned for him to keep talking.

“Sophie-Anne contacted me yesterday to inform me that I would be assisting her in a new money-making endeavor.” He tapped his silverware on the table but didn’t continue.

Your brow furrowed as you realized he was bothered by whatever he had discussed with his queen. What the hell was Sophie-Anne up to now? It was no secret that she was in some serious trouble with the IRS after not paying taxes for years. Even death wasn’t an escape from taxes anymore. “What is it, Eric?”

His eyes darted up from the table to meet your gaze. “I fear what I tell you may be a death sentence for her. Sophie-Anne and I have had our differences, but she’s a decent queen, all things considered.”

“If it’s that serious, you shouldn’t be involved. She’ll hide behind her title and her denials while you pay the price for her scheming.” Vampire politics were messy at the best times and deadly at the worst. If it wasn’t for you, it would be Eric’s word against Sophie’s should something happen. And odds were, they’d accuse Eric of treason for speaking against her and he’d be killed while she got off scot free. It was one of the things you and your father argued about the most.

Eric nodded in acknowledgement of your words and took a deep breath. “She wants me to find someone to deal V for her.”

Holy shit. Eric was right. Sophie-Anne was dead. And it wouldn’t be the Magister delivering the sentence. No, your father would be visiting much sooner than he’d intended.  

[princesscaliban]

Caliban x Cheerleader | 2

Notes: A little adult-y at the end but that’s about it. Yes, part 3 is already started. That’s if you like part 2. I tried not to rush it but some parts aren’t as detailed as I wanted. There’s pictures included because I love visuals. x

Part 1

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Zelda brushed her hands on her skirt, cleaning them of any sweat that may have gathered during their quick meeting, “Stamattina, prima dell'alba, cancella i ricordi delle ultime notti, dalla mente di tutti.” Her hands pointed forwards towards Greendale and a gush of air hit the three witches to signal it had worked.

Ambrose had gathered Addy’s mother’s body and Caliban had volunteered to banish her father to Hell. All that Greendale would know is that Addy’s father never moved to Greendale and her mother passed of heart issues. She was buried in a local cemetery with a beautiful ceremony, Addy helping Sabrina lead her mother to Heaven with a few final words.

Then it came time. Time to tell Addy of her family lineage and test her blood to see what she was. 

“It’s a simple cut, fill the vile, Sabrina will heal you and we will know once Hilda mixes the potion.” Zelda slid the knife across the table to Addy, who grabbed it with shaky hands. 

Sabrina sat next to her, “It will only hurt for a second, once it’s full you’ll be healed, I promise.”

“Why do I have to do it myself? Can’t someone else do it while I’m not looking?”

“The subject does it themselves so there’s not chance of enchantment on the blood spilling into the vile.” Zelda explained, “We haven’t much time dear, we need to find out so we know what to do.”

Caliban stood behind Addy, his hands on her shoulders, “Brina is right here to fix it, you can do it Addyson.” 

The knife was millimeters from her hand and she froze, breaking down in tears, “I can’t get myself to do it. I want to, but I can’t.”

“I’ll do it with you.” Caliban offered, grabbing a knife off of the countertop behind him, “I’ll cut my hand and fill a vile, she can heal you and then me.”

“Yeah, you can do it together on the count of three.” Sabrina suggested, “Do you want me to count?” Addy took a deep breath and nodded, gripping the knife tighter, “On three… one..”

She looked over at Caliban, who held a knife to his hand as well, “Two….”

She looked up at Zelda and Hilda who stood with two empty viles, ready to catch their blood.

“Three..”

Without thinking Addy sliced her hand open, shrieking at the pain, clenching her eyes closed as Zelda guided her hand over the vile until it was full. She heard Sabrina talking, “Guarisci questa ferita, elimina la cicatrice, rendilo com'era prima.”

She went from pain to her hand feeling tight and with no thought she pulled it into a fist. It was completely healed.

Sabrina held her hands over Caliban and his cut seemed to mend itself back together as Addy watched. 

“In a few hours we will check the color of the brew, it will let us know.” Hilda smiled, walking towards the kitchen.

Hours later and Hilda was on the hunt for Sabrina, astral projecting herself to Dorian’s where Sabrina sat with Nick at the bar. “I need you back at the house immediately, this is not going as we thought.”

“Is Addy ok—

“Ms. Addy is fine, but Caliban is.. just… just come back.” She disappeared, leaving Sabrina and Nick confused.

“Do you want to come back for the reveal?” She joked, laughing with Nick, “It’s  like a mortal gender reveal, boy or girl? Witch or mortal?”

They appeared in Sabrina’s room and made their way downstairs, checking on the guest bedroom that had become Addy’s to see if she was still asleep. And there she was, tucked in front of Caliban, his arms wrapped around her, “Is it done?” he asked, eyes wide open, not even the slightest thought of sleeping.

“Not sure. I’ll come get you when it is.” She smiled, quietly closing the door. “So Caliban cut himself with Addy so she wasn’t afraid, Hilda must have went ahead and tested his blood..” She whispered to Nick as they walked down the stairs.

Hilda sat at the table with two viles in front of her, her eyes were glossed over as she kept looking at them back and forth. “Sabrina go get your Aunt Zelda.”

“I’m right here, Hilda, what’s the matter?”

“This is Ms. Addyson’s…” She pointed to the left, “This is Caliban’s.”

None of the others understood the layers of colors that sat in the viles. Addy’s was a vibrant green at the bottom half and a dark blue at the top, Caliban’s was the same green at the bottom but a light orange on the top quarter of it.

“Orange is demon, blue is mortal, green is witch or warlock.” 

They all went silent looking at Caliban’s green and orange vile, “So Caliban is..”

Hilda glanced up the stairs to check the door was still closed and leaned closer to the group, “He’s part warlock.”

Ambrose ran to his room, digging for books he then scattered on the table downstairs. After a few minutes holding onto Caliban’s vile of blood he was led to a certain page of a certain book, pointing to a name.

“Sycorax, the ‘blue-eyed hag’, a witch from the 16th century, she was impregnated with a baby by their coven’s worst enemy, who was a demon and she was being banished from her Algeria coven because she would get rid of it.” Ambrose trailed off, muttering words to himself, “She ran for a while before being found. They took her back to the coven and killed her for keeping the demon-child. Before they got to her she made a deal with another demon to watch over Caliban until he was older.”

“That is preposterous.” Zelda snapped, “A witch having a demon’s baby?”

“That’s good though, we can welcome Caliban into the coven, have him on our side, with our rule, he’d be the same as us.” Sabrina got excited at the possibilities, “And Addy can have a Dark Baptism to join our coven under Hecate and go to The Academy—

“Even if Caliban does join the coven, he’s still part demon, we can never rid of him of those powers.” Zelda explained, “I don’t know how I feel about a part-demon being inside of our coven.”

“He practically already is.”

“But what is his intention?”

“He wanted to take over the throne in Hell until he met the girl, now he is one hundred percent focused on her.” Nick chimed in, “I didn’t know the guy had actual emotions but I think he laughed with her the other day.”

“He’s smart, we can make him a teacher at The Academy.” Sabrina said, “Who else could teach Demonology better than an actual demon?”

Nick slowly put his hand in the air and Ambrose agreed, “I’m with Nicholas on this one, he shouldn’t be teaching Demonology, he could hide secrets that hurt our coven in the future.”

Their arguing, agreeing and whispering downstairs was interrupted by a scream from upstairs. 

“Addy! Addy! Are you okay?” Sabrina was first up the stairs, followed by everyone else. “Caliban, what’s going on?”

“Lasciarla sola, non in questa casa!” Caliban yelled, directly into Addy’s eyes. “Lasciarla sola, non in questa casa!” He repeated, holding her hands away from hitting him, “Tarak ‘ahlamuha wahdaha, la talus Biealzubul aleizam!” 

Addy’s body collapsed and he caught her, trying to catch his own breath at the same time. Sabrina ran and laid Addy back on the bed, “Caliban, what happened? What did you just say?”

“She was asleep.” He pushed his hair back, looking down at the now peaceful, girl. “She began having a nightmare, she was moving and talking and I… dream walked in her dream and she was being attacked by Beelzebub, he was trying to take over her body.”

“Beelzebub?!” They all exclaimed, “He kept telling me he wanted to help me dethrone Sabrina, he wanted to take over Addyson’s body in secret but… I-I…”

“You used a demon spell against a demon, banishing him from her dreams.” Zelda said. “You didn’t even realize you could do it.”

“No.. I.. I don’t even know what I said.” He shook his head.

“If my translating is correct, it’s a little rusty, but I think it was something of leaving her dreams alone and stop touching her.” Ambrose guessed, “Arabic.”

“I speak Arabic?” Caliban asked, “I.. I don’t even—

“Come down stairs, Caliban. We’ve got a lot to tell you.” Zelda left the room, the others following behind. 

“I’m going to put an enchantment on her, she will be completely safe.” Sabrina helped Caliban up and put her hands over Addy, “Dormire in pace, null put svegliarsi, null put superare.”

Now that Caliban was sat around the table Ambrose began to explain to him his history. His mother, her coven, her secrets, “It’s why you don’t remember your past, she didn’t want you to remember the fighting of her coven and the banishment and her death.” 

“But she did it all for you.” Hilda grabbed his hands, “She left her coven, went on her own, so she could have you.”

Caliban sat in silence, looking at the scribblings in Ambrose’s book. “It’s why you’re fine in Hell or any other realm. It’s why you randomly spoke Arabic when you needed to. You have a lot to learn, probably more powers from a warlock stand point, a lot of decisions to make.”

“But Addyson…”

“She’s another Sabrina, part witch, part mortal.”

“How… how do I tell her… how do I tell her I’m.. a demon? Part demon?” He looked up at Hilda, desperate for answers. “What if she—

“Don’t think ahead, let’s just see what happens.” Ambrose pat his back, “If Addy is anything like I think she is, she’ll be accepting. But this is all new to her, so it’ll be a shock.”

Sabrina excused herself and went to get Addy, taking her a glass of water, chatting with her and quickly braiding her hair before taking her downstairs.

Caliban stood up and pulled his chair out for her. Without a word she sat next to Hilda and Sabrina took the chair next to her. 

“Well, Ms. Addyson, we’ve got some news for you.” Hilda smiled, “Your father’s family is still in your DNA, you’re half witch, half mortal. Just like Sabrina.”

“So I… I’m a witch?”

“Yep, welcome!” Hilda giggled, “You’ve got a lot of decisions to make soon but for now, we’re going to leave it at that. Half and half.”

“Ask all questions you want, I’m an open book.” Sabrina said, “We’re the only two like us.”

She forgot about Caliban behind her and jumped as he put his hand on her shoulder. “I’ve got something to tell you.”

“Caliban’s also a… mixed… breed..” Hilda cringed at her own wording and excused herself from the room.

“You’re not a witch.. warlock?”

He took Hilda’s chair and turned Addy to face him. He rest his hands on her knees, “When I cut my hand with you, Hilda went ahead and mixed my own vile and I found out.. I found out my mother was a witch.”

Addy smiled at him, pushing his hair from his face, “So you’re a warlock.”

“And a demon.” 

Addy’s smile fell, her hand froze mid-air, “A..a.. what does—“

“He’s half witch and half demon.” Sabrina said, “He’s just found out, we’ve all just found out.”

Addy sat up in her chair, looking back at Caliban, he could see the fear in her eyes, “Aren’t demons bad?”

“Most are, yes, but Addyson there is no way I could ever hurt you. Please trust me.” He grabbed her hands, “You are.. I would never even consider it.”

“And as the current Queen of Hell…” Sabrina muttered behind her, “If he does, he has to deal with me.”

“Queen of Hell?” Addy asked, turning her head around, “You’re… Queen of Hell?”

“It’s a long story, I promise I’ll tell you about it. My dad is Lucifer and my mom was a mortal, I was raised by my Aunties and since the throne is passed down in families I was next in line.”

“She’s fine, she’s good. Sabrina’s a good Queen, nothing bad will happen to you.” Caliban assured her, “I will never let anything happen to you.” He kissed the top of her hands.

“I’m going to go help my Aunt Zelda with a few things, I’m going to leave you here.” Sabrina pushed her chair in and smiled at them both. 

Holding hands Caliban and Addy walked around the Spellman’s backyard, barely talking. She saw their cemetery in the distance, reminding her of her family, “I can’t believe my parents are gone. I haven’t even cried or anything.”

“Zelda did an emotion control spell on you so you wouldn’t. They wanted you to focus on what’s happening now and your future. You have to find a familiar, think about a Dark Baptism, join the coven, think about The Academy, learn spells—

“Stop.”

“You have the best teachers and coven, they have done.. a lot. They’re powerful.” He spun her to face him, resting his hands on her cheeks, “You’re going to be fine. Everything will be okay.”

“What about you?”

“I have a lot to learn as well. But I’m happy..” He smiled, “Demon and witch relationships are extremely frowned upon in this realm.”

“Relationships?” Addy giggled, “But warlock and witch relationships are fine?”

“Nick and Sabrina, Prudence and Ambrose, need I say more?”

“But what’s the rule on half witch, half mortal and half demon, half witch?”

“It’s a first.” He bit onto his lip, watching her face blush and her eyes look into his, “We can make them up as we go.”

“Thank you, Caliban.” She whispered, “For everything.”

“No thanking me.”

“You saved my life… multiple times.” Her hands fell onto his sides, gripping onto the shirt he wore, “I think that justifies a thank you.”

“Just kiss me, Addyson.” He gently led her face closer to his, watching her eyes close before their lips met. 

It was pure euphoria. Every cell in her body tingled as she pulled herself closer to him. She pulled back out of breath and he kissed her forehead before pulling her close to him, her face dug into his chest. “You’re welcome.”

And for the first time, she felt safe. She had no clue how to work her own powers but she fully knew Caliban would do anything to protect her.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

“Agatha, stop following me.” Caliban demanded, for the fourth time that day. “I’m not going to see her, I’m not astral projecting to see her, I’m keeping away.”

“Prudence told me to watch you all day, so that’s what I’ll do.”

“I just want to be alone before we go to the woods.” Agatha shook her head no, pacing back and forth in front of the doorway to Ambrose’s room that Caliban had been stuck in all morning. 

“Have you ever been to a Dark Baptism?” He shook his head, “It’s beautiful. A little gory when it comes to the sacrifice, but beautiful. Addy is about to become a full witch, part of our coven, it’s such an important time in a young witches life. I remember every detail of mine, the dress—

“I don’t care, Agatha.” 

“I mean it’s your Dark Baptism too. Your welcome to the world of witches and warlocks. You both will—

“Agatha, please stop talking.”

“Fine. Blackwood would never have let a half-breed like you have a Baptism anyway.”

“Well then it’s a good thing that I run the coven now, isn’t it?” Zelda stepped in the room and Agatha’s face blushed in embarrassment. “Agatha, go help your sisters and Sabrina get Addyson ready.”

“But Prudence said—

“Agatha.” She pointed to the door and Agatha left. “Nicholas and Ambrose have gathered a black suit for you to wear, they’re on their way back now.”

“If you would have asked, I could have told you I have a black suit.” He whisked is hand from the floor to his face and a black suit appeared on him. It was perfectly Caliban with a few studded and belted features. “Can I see Addyson now?”

“The girls will bring her downstairs when we are ready to leave. You can… wait down there with Hilda.”

As much as he wanted to sneak a peek into Sabrina’s room as he walked by, he didn’t. He sat in silence while Hilda read a book, trying to be patient.

Addy had soaked in the bath with the traditional mix: milk, egg, rosemary, agrimony, vanilla, John the Conquerer root, tans and other herbs. She dried herself off with a decorative towel and Prudence did her makeup while she sat in a gold robe.

Dorcas did her makeup, the ingredients filled with herbs and potions from Hilda’s garden. “There’s something relaxing about a makeover.”

“It’s the transformation before the transformation.” Sabrina said, painting a dark red color on Addy’s nails, “It does feel like a wedding day though. Keeping you both separate, getting you in a fancy dress and all fixed up.”

“All while Caliban simply changes his clothes and is ready.” Prudence laughed, “I can’t wait to see his reaction to you in your dress and all done up.”

“Addyson, you look beautiful.” Sabrina tried to mock his accent, making them all laugh. “Ravishing, fabulous, perfect.”

“Thanks guys. For all of this. For everything.” Addy smiled, “I would have been so confused doing this on my own.”

“That’s what a coven is for. We’re a family.” Sabrina assured her. 

Minutes that seemed like hours later and The Weird Sisters came down the stairs, Sabrina following and Addy after her. The whole house stood and looked at her.

Her blonde hair in a loose halo braid, her eyes smoked out, her lips colored the darkest shade of burgundy and the dress fit her perfectly. The flowing material followed her down the stair case as each witch she passed put a necklace on her, covering up the skin showing at the cleavage. 

Addy looked down at the six necklaces, all with different charms for different meanings. She looked up and saw Caliban at the end of the line, his hand stuck out towards her, “You look gorgeous, love.”

The feeling of chills going up her spine took over her body just as it had done the first time she met him. Without a thought she pulled herself up by his shoulder to kiss him. “You’re welcome.” He smiled, leading her out the front door.

As they entered the woods Addy’s familiar that had chosen her, a black owl, hovered on a tree near her. Below the owl was a small fox, the familiar that had found Caliban in the woods the day before.

Candles seemed to take over the woods as witches and warlocks gathered in a circle around them.

Zelda held a book and stood before them, “We are gathered here together, in these woods, in the presence of our coven, all of the souls living and dead. The most unholy order of Hecate which teaches us there is no law beyond. Do what thou, wilt.”

In unison the crowd spoke and Addy squeezed Caliban’s hand, “Covina noster novus hospitio.”

“With our coven to witness, we hail Addyson Faye Camelli, descendant of the Camelli family and Caliban, son of the strong and honest witch, Sycorax to the Order of Hecate.”

The coven spoke again, raising candles into the air, “Hecate, vigila semper nostri seculi finem. Tum observabimus animarum interitum.”

Sabrina approached with a bowl of blood and Zelda’s them dipped into it. Caliban and Addy knelt before her as she drew crosses on their foreheads, mumbling lines to herself. 

Animal sacrifices, herb spreading, candle lighting, more incantations, the sacred signing of the book and a time for each witch, if they wanted, to say something to the new members of their coven.

Sabrina stepped forward at the end, placing her hands on Addy’s head and moving her lips as she secretly spoke an incantation to her. 

Addy’s body felt like a shock went through it and she held onto Sabrina to stay up, “What.. what did you do?”

“I’ll tell you later.” She smiled and winked. 

“And with that, we conclude this Dark Baptism of Addyson Faye Camille and Caliban. They are welcome to our coven with open arms, open souls and watching eyes.”

And a gust of wind went by, blowing every candle out in the woods. Leaving them all in the dark to wander home or wherever they wanted.

Addy and Caliban were last to leave, slowly walking hand in hand towards the Spellman house. “I don’t feel any different.” She complained, looking at her hands and body, “I thought I would feel different.”

“You don’t know any incantations or spells, that’s the key.” He laughed and flicked his hand at his clothes, changing into jeans and a t-shirt right in front of her. 

“Rimuovere.” She pointed at his shirt and spit out a word she didn’t even know she could pronounce and Caliban’s shirt was off and on the ground at their feet. A smile grew on her face as she looked up at him and pointed, “I can do a lot—

“Addy! Calib— oh, sorry if I’m… interrupting.” Sabrina cringed, “I forgot to tell you I did a knowledge transference spell on you. Everything I know, you now know. Just think and use the spell that comes to mind.”

“Now you’ve made her dangerous, Brina.” Caliban laughed, pointing at his shirt on the ground. 

“I’ll let you deal with that.” She waved, disappearing from where she stood.

“There are so many spells going through my mind right now.”

“Portaci in profondita. Dove dormo.” Caliban grabbed her hand and they appeared in a dark room, lit only by a few candles on the walls. “Since you’re a witch now, welcome to Hell.”

“This is… a bedroom.”

“Oh, she’s a smart witch.” He laughed, grabbing her waist, “Have I told you that you look beautiful today?”

She wrapped her hands around his neck, “About a hundred times. But I’m not tired of it.”

“I expected you to look good in your Dark Baptism dress. But you came down the stairs and.. you.. you looked.. hot.” She hid her face in his chest, “The see through part on the bottom? The cut-out sleeves?” He trailed his finger down her chest, over the stack of necklaces, “This part…” 

Addy giggled, grabbing his hand, “Did you want me to be bothered all day?”

“It wasn’t my first thought, but it did cross my mind while trying dresses on.” She bit on her lip, “Prudence even asked me what you’d think. I said you’d like it. She said you’d have it on the floor in seconds.”

“Prudence knows me well somehow.” He shrugged, searching his hands around her back to find the zipper. 

Addy winced in pain, grabbing her hand and looking. It felt like a constant scratch as letters appeared:

~Spellman house by midnight. -S~

She read it and watched it disappear, “What is that?”

“Enchanted pen. Sabrina writes on her hand it shows up on yours.” He pushed her hands down, “Midnight means we’ve still got a few hours here.”

“You never actually explained where we are.”

“My living quarters.” He pushed her dress down and it fell to the floor, “In Hell.”

She stood before him in a matching set of lingerie, all black, all lace. Her backside showing just the perfect amount as he took her finger and spun her around. “What do ya think?”

“I can’t think.” He grabbed her waist and pulled her closer, pushing her hair back and holding onto her chin.

Before he could even get his lips on her there was a knock at his door. One wave of his hand and it opened, Beelzebub was standing there alone.

At just the sight of him, Addy tensed up and grabbed onto Caliban. “What do you want?”

“To meet the Misses.” He bowed.

“As if you haven’t known who she is.” Caliban held onto Addy, who was standing in just her undergarments. Not just any undergarments but the ones Prudence made her put on ‘just in case’. “You leave her alone. Never touch her.”

Without taking a step Beelzebub appeared right next to them, his finger trailing down Addy’s bare arm. Her fingers dug into Caliban’s sides, definitely leaving marks. “How do you expect me to ignore such a…. specimen.” His eyes scanned her whole body which was now shaking. “Our Prince of Hell brings a witch back and we don’t even get a chance?”

He appeared on the other side of them, “I just need a few minutes with the beaut and you can have—

Caliban grabbed his hand that was about to touch Addy again, “You know my power. And I’m not afraid to use it on you.” He pushed Addy behind him and stood chest to chest with Beelzebub. “If you do so much as enter her dream or even have a thought about her, I’ll know and I’ll banish you from Hell myself.”

A quick move of his hand and Caliban had pushed Beelzebub from his room and into the hallway. He tried to run back in but the door slammed and locked.

Caliban was filled with rage, his fists were tightly locked as he took a deep breath. “Addyson I’m sorry about him.” He immediately relaxed when her hands touched his skin, sliding around his sides and to the front of him. “He will never get to you.” She kissed his back and his hands grabbed onto hers, “He’s useless.”

“Prince of Hell?” She questioned, whispering into his neck, “That’s a sexy title.” 

Caliban turned around to see her smiling, “Protecting me from him..” She grabbed his hand and slowly walked towards the huge bed at the back of the room. Black sheets, black pillows, black candles; she pushed him to sit down, “That was … so hot…”

He shook his head at her antics, “Rimuovere.” She repeated again and laughed, pointing at his pants that fell to the floor.

He pulled on the string of her bottoms until she moved forward and straddled his lap, “If you use that one more time, I’ll have to start using it on you.” 

“No need to use it if I’m willing.” 

“You’ve become quite confident since you’ve known you’re a witch.” He groaned and flipped her over so he was on top of her, “But it’s easier to tease you.. when you have them on..” His hair tickled her neck as he left a row of bites down her collar bone, “More surprises.” He kissed the middle of her chest, “For me.” He left a sloppy kiss on her stomach before kissing the top of her underwear, pulling them back with his teeth.

Her hands grabbed his hair and she tried to move around but he held her still, “Oh you’re going to be like that, are you?” He moved back up and kissed her lips, beginning a careless makeout that distracted her as he undid the clasp to her top.

Her legs tried to squeeze around him but he wouldn’t allow it, laughing at her whining as he slowly pulled her top off. “Perfect.” He glanced up at her, slowly leaning down towards her chest, “And all..” He kissed her neck once more, “mine.”

[simtrospective]

Just some thoughts about my new save while I plan how I want to fulfill the last request in my inbox. I thought I’d write every thing down because it might help me think if I read it all back. I made it an entry you can see for those who enjoy super lengthy sims minutia. If you read this and have opinions or thoughts about where I could go with my ideas, please do share those opinions/thoughts with me!

1.) I have a family set to live in Glimmerbrook and a few ideas for the other residents there and the world’s overall vibe (I’ve not yet made the other families, nor renovated the world). I don’t care about ~spellcasters so my idea was to have at least one of the main families be immortals, and rivals with the family I’ve created already, who may themselves be immortal or half-immortal or not at all immortal but who will know that the other family is, and--whatever, who knows. Not the point.

The point is, I was making a few updates to my New Save Plans and while rereading everything, saw and thus remembered my idea to make Glimmerbrook into a vacation world/transcendentalist paradise. Recalling that plan, I still like it, and now I’m not sure what to do about anything there.

Issues:

Glimmerbrook and Granite Falls feel similar. I don’t want nor need two woodsy vacation areas.

Glimmerbrook has roads designed for vehicle travel. It’s not private and seems more “active” than I want a vacation world to appear, consistently. I’d also hate to lose some of the locations as isolated residential lots.

Where will I put the family I’ve already made? They were supposed to have a peacock farm!

2.) Never mind why it took so long for me to come up with a concept for Selvadorada; I’m suddenly super into giving it a 1930s Havana vibe--actual jungle notwithstanding--and moving it from the vacation worlds into the regular playable worlds. I’ve done the adventure playthrough already and it’s not going to fit into my new save so I’m not concerned with losing/avoiding that.

I want to move at least one world into the vacation world to make up for this swap, not counting Glimmerbrook since I’m undecided about that, and I’m thinking it’ll be Sulani. I actually love Sulani as a world (my mains lived there for a while) but it doesn’t make sense to me that there’s no beach vacation spot + I’d like to leave it wide open, fun, and with a relaxed vibe. I don’t want to disrupt the natural terrain. Super basic, open-plan, two-room rental properties + beaches + one place to get food/drink + one place (maybe the same place as the food/drink spot) to drink, dance, and... flirt, and that’s it.

I do (did?) have plans for Miss Sulani and Mr. Sulani and a whole thing, but I think I can still execute some of what I want. I mean... townies, etc., generate when you visit any world, including a vacation one, so I can just visit Sulani, let the townies generate to ensure they’re tied to Sulani, and then replace them with what/who I want, right? I guess? Yeah? Yeah.

Issues:

Actually... none? 99% sure I’m going to make Sulani a vacation world. 100%. 100% sure!

I never played the conservationist storyline or whatever the heck it is. I could still do that. Take a seven-day vacation in Sulani and clean the beach? I’ll have a few young, 1960s/1970s sims. A vacation to clean the beach = serving/volunteering in the Peace Corps? That was ~so hot back then. Now I get to name the sims version of the Peace Corps, so that’s fun.

3.) Let me get this straight: You’re concerned with leaving Sulani relatively untouched but want to slash and burn Selvadorada so you can have a nightclub? Interesting.

Actually, having thought about this more, I went back and looked at the pictures I took of every emptied world and I don’t see 1930s Havana working out in Selvadorada. I am now super not into this concept and don’t know what to do with Selvadorada, all over again. I still love the 1930s Havana concept and want to use it, though.

I looked at a few real life reference pictures and while I can see 30s Havana working with much of eastern Windenburg, I’m still really into eastern Windenburg as post-war Europe. “Europe” is broad, yes, and Windenburg will “be” multiple countries in one, but I don’t want to go even broader here and pull from multiple geographic regions around the globe, plus I’m already combining various cities into Oasis Springs, too, and so want to limit the “combining” approach. I looked at my world pictures again, and... Magnolia Promenade, though definitely not perfect, is the best place to put “Havana.” I think I can make it work, though, so that’s what I’m going to try to do!

Issues:

Magnolia Promenade was intended to be a Coney Island-Atlantic City boardwalk hybrid, another concept I want to keep. So... where’s that all going to go? I think it could work in Willow Creek, but with so many other lots there, the [boardwalk] will not be isolated in the way that I want it to be, though spreading it across the four side-by-side Crawdad Quarter lots + putting the attractions (Ferris wheel, carousel, etc.) in that closest 50x50 lot is certainly a workable option. Ugh, I don’t know, this needs more consideration.

4.) Forgotten Hollow and Newcrest are just...

Forgotten Hollow--to repeat myself--is getting a 20s-30s vibe, a Weimar Republic vibe, a German expressionist cinema vibe. It’s getting a seedy nightclub cabaret venue. Fine. Great. But what else is going to go there besides that? I’m not interested in multiple sims who fit into this world; I already have one done, I don’t think I need more than four others, and I don’t think I want to play a household of them so what else can fit into that world that makes sense/is “justifiable” within my gameplay? Just a deco church? Even with the cemetery, that can’t be the only cemetery in my save; that’s weird. Some hippie OD’s in Del Sol Valley and gets buried in Forgotten Hollow? The smiling milkman from Brindleton Bay has a cute life and eventually dies of old age surrounded by his grandchildren and gets buried in Forgotten Hollow? I mean, once, okay, maybe ~an “average” sim has a secret~ so that their ultimate resting place is a creepy, foggy, Germanic crypt, but, also... no. That milkman idea’s a good one, tho, right? Ah, shit.

Last I updated my plan document, I shifted my Newcrest plan to Evergreen Harbor and started kicking around the idea of making the three neighborhoods into the Haves, the Have-Nots, and the... Have-Somes, I guess, because it might make for some interesting storylines despite that I don’t want to use this game to play out class inequity/inequality as a constant theme. I can have some sims be total assholes to sims who are different than they are or who don’t live in the tony part of town, but, like, all of them are going to act like that? All of them except one? And then, let me guess, a rich sim and poor sim fall in love and sneak around because their respective families blah blah blah

But, then, what on earth to do with Newcrest? It’s so... boring. I hate the 50x40 lot. Even the 40x30 lots feel too big where they are. I hate the layout. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand the location of the water nor where the hospital-looking, officey-looking deco building is, and the reasoning behind the placement/existence of those big-ass rocks behind one of the Ridgeline lots, nor how any--any--of it works together in individual neighborhoods/the whole world. I understand it’s basically Willow Creek all over again but it suckssss and it’s too open-ended and this is from someone whose first move in every neighborhood she’s ever played in this entire series is to bulldoze everything.

Since I’ve changed direction in Willow Creek--let’s say I’ll put my boardwalk there for the sake of the rest of this sentence--I could shift my suburbia ideas to Newcrest, I guess, maybe put a library there and a (deco) high school. In another save, I tried to build the world up using Baltimore/Baltimore Harbor as inspiration and it was okay for a little while, I guess, but ultimately I didn’t achieve what I wanted and it was so boring to play there, even when I liked the sims I was playing.

Issues:

Again, Forgotten Hollow and Newcrest are just :P

So. More thinking to do. More planning to do.

Boy that’s a lot of words over a silly little game XD

[tact-and-impulse]

At Arm’s Length Chapter 14

*dojo door slams open* Dad’s home.

Thank you for your patience! Now that this is the last installment correlating to the Kyoto arc, the next chapter will be an interlude before we hop onto the angst train. I know it took a long time for this update, and this past year has been a struggle, given I had to prepare for a major exam (which I passed, so that’s something!) and the current state of the world. The events of this chapter cover Kaoru’s childhood to the Seinan war, including several traumatic events. Content warnings for death of a parent, depictions of war, PTSD, death of a spouse, and depictions of hospitalization. Let me know what you think, and please take care of yourselves.

Chapter 14: Becoming a Father

When he emerged from Commissioner Kawaji’s office, Koshijiro let exhaustion take over. He had stayed awake two hours past midnight to finalize his evacuation plan, and the entire morning had already flown by due to the commissioner grilling him on the details. He had fended off the questions with varying degrees of success, until he was dismissed with a scowl.

He returned to his desk, settled in his chair, and closed his eyes. Just for a minute…

“Officer Kamiya, we received a message requesting backup.” Shinichi nervously interrupted his rest.

He shook off the lethargy, to see the rookie. Occasionally, the young officers were called on for assistance, and Koshijiro had to accompany them as their direct superior. “Please tell me the details on the way there. Let’s head over.”

There was a clash at the fish market, reportedly between two rival gangs. The details of the feud were unknown, but both sides were agitated and aggressive. Shouts and crashes could be heard from a block away. As Koshijiro and the others approached, the noise intensified. The scene was chaotic. Men were exchanging blows and throwing various items at each other. Bloodied faces drifted in and out among the mob, along with the uniforms of officers. The rookies immediately launched themselves into the fray, disappearing in a matter of moments.

A flash of red barreled towards Koshijiro’s right, and he instinctively caught…an octopus. His arm held the creature to his chest, and its tentacles curled around his sleeve and towards his neck. Gingerly, he set it in a nearby bucket of water, and it wriggled in relief. Now that he looked closer, some of the thrown items were raw seafood.

But not all.

A sword swung towards Koshijiro, the rusty edge aiming for his temple, and he ducked. His right hand fell to his bokken, as he analyzed his opponent. A shorter, stockier man with a gap-toothed grin and a death wish, apparently. Koshijiro drew his bokken, moving into a defensive position.

It wasn’t difficult to read his movements, and when the man attempted an overhead swing, Koshijro blocked. The force was intense, and he had to widen his stance. However, that set him up perfectly for the next move. With an inhale, he pushed back, lifting his back foot off the ground to hook around the man’s knee. The man gave a startled exclamation as his feet turned inward, and Koshijiro disengaged. His opponent threatened to fall forward and that left him open for a strike at the sensitive point behind the elbow. The man’s grip spasmed, but even if he could somehow shake off the numbness, Koshijiro was already following through with another blow to the back of the head. Koshijiro watched him go down, and the immediate handcuffing by Officer Abe, who was on standby.

“Whoa, Kamiya-san, that was awesome!”

“Well, I’m glad it worked. I’ve been thinking over this maneuver for some time.” He was rather proud of his success, and confidently, he moved on.

In total, fifty people were arrested, jailed, and scheduled for questioning. He had volunteered for the last shift of interrogation and didn’t return home until past midnight. Koshijiro prepared for bed, and every movement was abnormally loud. Once he had closed his eyes, his ears rang from the eerie silence.

How long had it been since they were gone? June was already coming to a close. Kaoru’s birthday was at the end of the week and he was in Satsuma for her last one. Their usual celebration was a nice dinner, but he felt like this one should be grander, to make amends. He would have to think of something soon…as a testament to how tired he was, he fell asleep mid-thought.

When he woke, he scrambled for the time and realized he was running late. The train would arrive soon, and he had promised to be at the station. He skipped breakfast and broke into a sprint as he drew closer, but he made it to his destination. Tokio rose from a bench, lifting her little son.

“Kamiya-san, thank you for being here. Are you alright?”

He took a moment to catch his breath. “Yes, I’m fine. I see the train’s here?” The locomotive seemed to be giving a long exhale, the turning of the wheels slowing with each cycle.

“Yes, but they must be checking the passengers before they let them out.” She adjusted her hold on Tsutomu, his sleeping face squished against her collar.

They watched the disembarking people and scanned the faces for a boy of the right description. Finally, he stepped out. He was about ten or eleven, and his hair was mussed from sleeping at an odd angle. Noticing their gazes, he cautiously approached, looking up at Tokio.

“Are you Fujita-san?”

“I am and this is my son, Tsutomu. Kamiya-san is my husband’s colleague.”

Koshijiro nodded in greeting. “It’s good to meet you. How was your journey?”

“Long. It wasn’t too bad until the train.” He wrinkled his nose. “I wanted to go on foot like Kenshin did, the train is too noisy.”

“You met Himura-san?”

“Yeah. He really helped me out in my village.” He became quiet, obviously remembering. “He did say, ‘Kamiya-dono will be in Tokyo, so there is no need to worry.’”

Koshijiro coughed to conceal his embarrassment. “I see. Well, I heard he made it to his destination, so there’s no need to worry about him either.”

Tokio knelt to meet Eiji at eye level. “My husband informed me that you lost your parents and brother. I’m so sorry.”

“Kenshin helped me.” Eiji stared at his feet. “He said the dead only want the living to be happy.”

“He wasn’t wrong.” Koshijiro quietly said. “Your family would want that for you.”

They walked out, and Tokio intended to treat Eiji to a well-deserved meal. She extended the invitation to Koshijiro but he had to decline. “Some other time. I’ll stop by now and then, to check in. If there’s anything you need, you can always visit the Kamiya dojo.”

On his way back, he passed a flower seller, hawking baskets teeming with small pink and white deutzia. They greatly resembled cherry blossoms and he remembered they were gone by August. He turned around and paid for one bouquet, mentally mapping out the detour to the cemetery.

Kyoko will surely love these flowers.

***

Everything about Kaoru was utterly charming. Her little yawns, the way she stretched her whole body when she woke, the downy hair capping her head, her plush grip gently enclosing his thumb. She was an energetic baby, working her fingers and flailing her limbs as if testing them out. She was more than Koshijiro and Kyoko could have asked for.

She grew quickly, and Koshijiro was loath to miss a moment. He couldn’t help but feel a little envious of Kyoko and Osue-san, who visited thrice a week to help out. The majority of his day was spent working, so when he returned home at Kaoru’s early bedtime, Kyoko encouraged him to rock their daughter to sleep. She reassured otherwise but he had felt awkward in the early days, too large and clumsy for his tiny girl. As he strolled through the house, Kaoru’s round eyes intently focused on his face before she slowly nodded off.

When she was a few months old, Koshijiro noticed a bright blue ribbon tied around her head. “Hm? What’s this?’ He asked Kyoko.

“I noticed she has a bald spot, so I thought to cover it with the ribbon.” Meanwhile, Kaoru didn’t seem to mind, happily rolling onto her belly and offering Koshijiro a smile.

He sat beside her and one pudgy hand touched his knee before she tried to lift her upper body. Her feet pushed against the tatami but she didn’t budge. As she struggled to move to his lap, her barely visible eyebrows drew together and she made a loud noise of frustration. Amused, he picked her up by the armpits and remarked. “It’s a little early for you to crawl, Kaoru, but it’s good that you’re eager.”

“She’ll be crawling soon.” Kyoko joined them, adjusting the blue ribbon so it was more secure. “And then, she’ll walk and run.”

“Not too fast for us, I hope.”

But for now, Kaoru was still small enough to hold. While their little home was cozy and quiet, it was not as peaceful outside. The disasters of the Ansei era had accumulated in the past two years: cholera raging through Edo, an earthquake in Hida, an assassination near the Sakurada gate. A treaty with the Americans had been signed, resulting in widespread discontent. With the ports open to trade, the markets and routes changed. Inflation drove costs up, as foreigners bought gold. The shogunate was proving to be increasingly unequipped to handle current issues.

Meanwhile, Koshijiro continued to teach kenjutsu. His students were eager to use real blades and threatened to leave if they couldn’t. He did his best to ensure everyone was safe, but he only had one pair of eyes. There were several close calls. After a particularly nasty duel between two students, he sent a doctor for their injuries and ended class early. When everyone had left, he sat on the freshly cleaned dojo floor, rubbing his forehead. The students were eager to fight and yes, they needed to know how to protect themselves, but was he enabling them? What would his predecessors think of him?

“Sorry to interrupt.”

He turned to see Kyoko, holding their baby daughter and beaming at him. “It’s Otou-san, Kaoru. Otou-san.”

Kaoru gave a delighted cry, waving her fist. How could he possibly be despondent?

Kyoko handed her off, and the baby’s soft cheek grazed his. She nuzzled, turning her face against his shoulder, and he held her tighter. Meeting his wife’s tender gaze, he smiled. “Thank you.”

Once Kaoru could toddle about, there was no stopping her, and she took obvious joy in being followed. Her wide smile over her shoulder was a precious thing to behold. When she’d fall, her tears weren’t out of pain but desire for comfort, for she quickly stopped once she was held. Soon enough, even those subsided, and she’d resume walking as if nothing happened.

After one such occurrence, Kyoko began to laugh. “Her face looks just like yours! So determined!”

“If that’s so, then she certainly takes after you too.” But he laughed as well.

It was during those blissful days that his father returned. He had sent a letter in advance, explaining he no longer had work in Kunitake’s area and would be transferring back home. Koshijiro personally suspected they had a falling-out but kept his reply succinct and inviting. Otou-san arrived with the summer heat, and Koshijiro stepped away from the dojo to greet him with a bow.

“Welcome back.”

“Koshijiro, it’s good to be home.” His father smiled. He was noticeably thinner, the lines on his face deeper. “Oh? Is that Kaoru-chan?”

He glanced towards the porch, to see his daughter staring at them, before she unsteadily ran into the house. “Oka! Oka!”

“Calling for her mother?” Otou-san’s tone was both amused and wistful.

“Her first word as well. Please, come in.” As he offered, he took his father’s satchel. It was surprisingly light. Had Otou-san sold his belongings…or was he kicked out?

Kyoko appeared, Kaoru clinging to her leg. “Welcome! Are you hungry at all? We can have lunch early.”

They settled him in, and the tension seemed to leave his frame. He was in his early sixties, Koshijiro thought, but his age had never shown until now. He moved slower, he slept heavier and longer, and he was not as boisterous as before. Worried, Koshijiro sent for one of Kyoko’s doctors. For the most part, Otou-san’s health was fair, but his heart was weak and they would have to keep an eye on him. Plenty of rest and a daily routine would help, and they did their best to make him comfortable. Otou-san dove into his art with full force, and more often than not, he could be found painting in the yard. He happily gave Kaoru any paper and ink she wanted to draw with, and allowed her to drum her fists against his back in a makeshift massage. He also got along well with Kyoko, who effortlessly charmed everyone in her orbit anyway. Most of his father’s paintings were sold, but if Kyoko expressed a liking for one, he would set it aside for safekeeping.

“Aha! I see the pattern now.” Otou-san clapped his hands together, after a brief survey of Kyoko’s choices. “You have a keen eye for the seasons. Spring, summer, autumn, winter.”

“Of course, and you depict them so well, Otou-sama. But do you have any preferences on what you paint?”

“Not particularly, though it’s better if everything I see remains still while I’m working.” He joked. “But that’s hardly ever the case. Such is life.” And to prove his point, Kaoru hurtled past him, running at full speed to escape a harried Osue, who was attempting to wash her face.

A few months later, they celebrated Kaoru turning three. The zori only lasted a few steps before she kicked them off with obvious relief and to Osue-san’s chagrin. Her pudgy hands held a long stick of chitose ame, which she eagerly crammed into her mouth.

“Yes, live a long, happy life, Kaoru.” Kyoko murmured. Her fatigue had been worse as of late, and she rested against Koshijiro’s shoulder.

When Kaoru dozed off too, worn out by the day’s activities, Koshijiro held her in his lap. Glancing about to make sure no one else was looking, he pressed a kiss on both of their cheeks, his wife’s cool one and his daughter’s slightly sticky one.

Now that she was old enough, Koshijiro had crafted a bokken to match Kaoru’s size, and she would follow along with morning stretches. Anything more would be too advanced, and she usually fussed when Kyoko had to pull her away. Eventually, Koshijiro noticed perforations in the rice paper, at about the eye level of a little girl. It then became a matter of catching her in the act. He listened carefully for a tiny pop, and after a moment, opened the door to find her staring up at him.

“Kaoru, did you do this?”

“No!” But she sucked in a breath and turned to run away. Koshijiro easily stepped around her.

“I’m going to ask again. Did you poke holes in the doors?”

She squirmed, her mouth petulantly twisting. “…it’s fun.”

“But it isn’t very nice. It worries me and your mother when we have to fix them. And we don’t like being mad at you. Can you be good and promise you’ll stop?” He extended his pinky finger towards her.

“Hmph.” She pouted but she linked her tiny finger with his and they shook on it.

“That’s a promise.”

Her voice was small and uncertain when she asked. “Do you hate me?”

“No, of course not. I never could, and Okaa-san feels the same way.” As the words left him, he suddenly remembered his own childhood voice, declaring that he would never be anything like his father. Gods, he must have caused Otou-san a great deal of pain and he’d never realized until now.

When he spoke with Kyoko, she insisted that they have a conversation. “You need to talk with him alone. There’s still time to make things right between you. As long as you’re alive, you can have another chance.”

He decided to do so, one morning. Otou-san was in his usual spot in the yard, trying to capture the autumn scenery with his paints. He shuffled towards the porch, spared a glance at Kyoko. She narrowed her eyes at his stalling, and urged him to keep moving with quick waves of her hand. Suppressing a sigh, he moved to stand by his father.

“That looks lovely.” He lamely nodded at the painting. What was he doing?

His father laughed. “Thank you. I know you’re not as passionate as I am about this, but I appreciate it. Is something on your mind?”

“I spoke to Kaoru about the holes in the door, and she reminded me of the past.” He slowly said. “I remember some of the unkind words I dealt to you when I was a child, and I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. As you said, you were a child and our situation was…unexpectedly complicated. But I never blamed you or your mother.” He set his brush down, resting it on a small ceramic dish with murky water. “I think if Miyo had been with us, like when you were younger, it might be easier to talk with each other. Maybe, she’d still be with us.”

The wind swept through, and a lull fell over them. Koshijiro cleared his throat, swallowing the sudden lump there. “Kyoko says people live on in the stories we tell.”

“She’s right.” He paused. “I never told you how I met your mother.”

“No, I don’t believe so.”

“Well, it wasn’t romantic. I fell asleep by the river, while sketching. I only meant to have a nap, but when I woke up, it was morning and Miyo was standing over me. Then, I kept seeing her all the time, while I was in town. Our paths crossed frequently after that. I was happy whenever I saw her, and disappointed when I didn’t. When I found that she was looking for work, I hired her. And after that, I only fell deeper. I was sure…that we could live happily together. But Otsuna and Kunitake were jealous. I knew they were, but I raised them like my own after my cousin and wife died. I did my best, trying not to choose. Miyo never told me she was pregnant with you, and when I met you, you were almost a year old. But I couldn’t let you either of you go again. You probably don’t remember much, but despite the circumstances at the time, the famine and uncertainty, those were some of the happiest days of my life.”

Something gave in his chest at his father’s words and sober expression. Otou-san was not perfect by any means, far from it, and yet…he was only human in the end. “That time is vague in my memories but I was happy too.”

“I am sorry though. I never meant for you to be hurt by your siblings, and I did speak to them multiple times. Their harassment is a failure on my part. I don’t know where I went wrong, but please believe that I never encouraged their behavior.”

“I believe you and that it’s not entirely your fault.” He assured. “There comes a point when immaturity is no longer an excuse and I doubt they ever found it. Years ago, I would have thought it difficult to uproot the resentment I have. But I can now. I do forgive you and I think I understand you a little better now. Even more so because I have Kyoko and Kaoru.”

Otou-san looked as if he was about to cry, and he was at a loss for what to do. Almost as if on cue, the door opened to signal someone was on the porch. Kaoru darted towards them, with a wide smile. “Jii-jii!” She twirled in place, her little ponytail flying. “This new ribbon is pretty, right?”

His father nodded, voice light. “Of course! It’s the same color as a rose. And you’re pretty from head to toe. And what does your Otou-san think?”

They both turned to him, and Koshijiro cleared his throat. “Yes, Kaoru, it’s very nice. Did Okaa-san buy it for you?”

“Uh-huh. We match now! Tou-san, come see.” She grabbed his hand, pulling him back towards the house amidst his father’s laughter. Kyoko had tied her own rose-colored ribbon in her bun, and she lifted her head from her sewing with a smile when they rejoined her at the table.

“Thank you.” He murmured.

“You’re welcome. How do you feel?”

“Better.”

“Then, that’s good.” Their private conversation was interrupted by Kaoru, wondering where one of her books was.

In the evenings, Kyoko read aloud to Kaoru, who had claimed a spot to nestle between them in their futon. Koshijiro was embarrassed whenever he fell asleep to his wife’s voice, but those were rare, since Kaoru would poke his side and ask if he wanted to read next. She would try to turn the pages for him, intent on helping move their nightly story forward. She already knew a few kanji, including her name, and Koshijiro was very proud.

There was one issue that arose. One of the new books Kaoru liked was about a family, which had multiple children. The youngest was a newborn girl, and Kaoru seemed fascinated, her fingers lingering on the baby’s descriptions. Once Kyoko ended the tale, the inevitable question came.

“Kaa-san?”

“Yes?”

“Where do babies come from?”

“Hmm.” Kyoko pretended to ponder over the matter. “Well, they appear when an Okaa-san and an Otou-san wish very hard.”

“Oh. So I will wish.”

“Wish for what, Kaoru?”

“A little sister!”

“That’s such a nice wish.” Kyoko mildly replied. “Now, let’s go to sleep.”

Koshijiro fervently hoped that would be the end, but as the seasons changed, Kaoru was still loudly expressing her desire for a younger sister. It became a daily inquiry, and at last, Koshijiro decided to gently break the news to her, before going to bed.

“Perhaps, you should think of a new wish. A little sister probably isn’t on its way.”

“Why not?” She demanded.

“W-well…” He stammered, thrown off guard. “It takes two people to make that kind of a request?” Kyoko immediately clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes shut and shoulders trembling with concealed laughter. “Two adults, like me and your mother.”

“Tou-san, then wish with Kaa-san.”

What had he done to deserve this conversation? “But when a baby comes, you can’t exchange it, even if it’s a boy.”

“A little brother would be okay too, like Hitomi-chan’s.” Kaoru conceded, referring to one of her older playmates.

Thankfully, Kyoko took over, still smiling from the aftershocks. “Kaoru, we waited a very long time for you. We wished and prayed and nearly gave up. I don’t know if we can be that lucky a second time. But if you’re feeling lonely, let’s invite Hitomi-chan and your other friends over more often. And there are other children who live nearby too. Maybe, there will be someone who would like a big sister. What do you think?”

“…alright.” Over her head, Kyoko and Koshijiro exchanged relieved glances.

***

Emperor Meiji ascended to the throne, and a power struggle with the shogunate seemed imminent. Nothing in the news was particularly uplifting, a prelude to the certain turmoil.

One wintry morning, he passed by Otou-san’s room and stopped. The door was wide open, though without signs of a struggle. In the front, his father’s shoes were missing, and a quick scan confirmed that the yard was empty. A sense of foreboding overcame him. He walked past the gate, looking down the road to find a set of shallow footprints. They led to a large tree, shielding any snow from covering Otou-san’s sitting form. As he approached, the foreboding grew stronger, and it was only confirmed when he gently placed his palm upon his father’s shoulder. There was no heat at all. Otou-san’s face was perfectly tranquil, his final moments of acceptance, and Koshijiro bowed his head.

“Thank you, and goodbye. I’ll take you to Okaa-san now.”

The funeral was surprisingly crowded, with many people offering to pay their respects. It was clear that Otou-san had been respected and loved, by not only his colleagues but also the neighborhood and his fellow artists. Noticeably, there were two figures who never showed, but Koshijiro did not mind. It was best that his wife and daughter wouldn’t meet his siblings. Preferably never at all. Otou-san’s ashes were laid to rest beside the simple grave of the woman he loved, and Koshijiro blinked back sudden tears at the sight of his parents, reunited in death.

Kyoko’s familiar hand slipped into his. “It’s alright. You can cry, if you need to.” She gently said.

“Forgive me, Kyoko. I don’t know why-” He broke off, his voice shaky. He didn’t know why his composure was crumbling at this moment, when he had handled the funeral arrangements so steadily.

“Shh. I’m here, and so is Kaoru. We’re here.” Her gaze shone with her own tears, and Kaoru clung to Koshijiro’s other side, brows drawn together. They remained in a close huddle, all the way home. The house was quieter, and sometimes, there’d be an extra bowl set out by accident, but like years ago, the grief was easier to bear with time.

That spring, he was on midnight patrol, lantern in hand. A distant clamor rerouted him, and he kept one hand on the hilt of his katana as he hurried towards the shouts. A couple of shadows were already fleeing, leaving four bodies. One emitted a weak rattling cough. He drew closer and the lantern’s glow illuminated the man’s bloody face. “Hayashi?!” He checked for a pulse on his friend’s slick neck. Rapid, but present. He stabilized Hayashi, just as his colleagues rushed over.

The story was that it had been a group of ruffians, looking for anyone to rob in this economic crisis. Hayashi did survive, though at the cost of a maimed right leg. He was despondent; such an injury meant an end to kenjutsu and his service to his lord. “I’ll be thrown away, who wants a cripple for protection?”

“Don’t say that,” Koshijiro tried to persuade him. “Focus on getting better first, before returning to work.”

“As if. Just leave me to die and go back to your own dojo.” Hayashi snarled. That only served to steel Koshijiro. He wrote to Maekawa and Kikuhara, requesting their assistance, and continued to visit with food and water.

Maekawa was there within the week, and spoke nothing of kenjutsu, just boisterously singing as he cleaned Hayashi’s row house. Kikuhara was unable to do anything in person, but he sent packages of books, paintings, and other things to pass the time with. At first, Hayashi shouted at them, to the point where he wore himself out. They took meals at his bedside if he wouldn’t move and changed his dressings, and although Maekawa was skeptical that they were helping at all, Koshijiro insisted they were. Hayashi’s strength was slow to build, given his initial resistance, but he left his bed in order for them to stop nagging, as he put it, and scowled as he ate. He no longer raised his voice or spoke of dying. Despite his perpetual bitter mood, it was progress.

Koshijiro believed they were going to finally get him out of the house, only to find that the door chained in place. Hayashi had left a folded note in one of the edges. Thank you for staying with me, but I need to find my own way in life again.

A search resulted in nothing. Maekawa expressed his characteristic confidence that Hayashi would be fine, wherever he ended up, and Koshijiro reluctantly accepted that he had to trust his friend would continue to live on.

His dojo was faring well; there were many who were eager to learn how to fight or have their sons learn. At seven, Kaoru relished helping out, and he tended to ask for her to demonstrate, especially for the newcomers. She was as old as he was, when he first started learning, and with her head start, she was very good at kenjutsu and knew it. She loved being in the dojo, and although Koshijiro was proud of her enthusiasm, she did fight with some of the boys who were prejudiced towards a female classmate and mistakenly believed she was weaker. More than once, he had to break up a tussle. Punishment was dealt equally too, he didn’t want to favor his daughter and he could handle her grumpiness afterward. If she wanted to spar those boys in a designated match, however, he never objected.

Kyoko was much more apprehensive. “I’m not saying she can’t be in the dojo. I don’t want to confine her; I want her to enjoy life.” She was very firm about that sentiment, given her upbringing. “But I’m worried she’ll be hurt. It’s different for women. Men are allowed to bear scars with pride, whereas we’re expected to hide them.”

“I understand, but she’s growing up and she knows how to pick herself up when she falls. Kaoru’s resilient, like you.”

“That’s kind of you to say, dear.” It was an evasive reply. She still wasn’t mollified and fretted over Kaoru’s bruises and scrapes. Kaoru complained about the thick ointments, that most of her injuries were accidents and in the increasingly rarer fights, the dumb boys kind of deserved it. Koshijiro silently agreed with the latter point, as he bandaged his daughter up.

The majority of his students were now outside the samurai class, and somehow, word must have spread because he had a spectator who lingered after one class.

“Are you interested in joining?” Koshijiro inquired.

“It would be an honor but no. I am here as a representative of Omura.” The man smiled. “Have you heard of him?”

“Omura Masujiro? The Choshu strategist?”

“Yes, I’m glad you recognized him. But are you are aware of the cause he fights for?”

“It seems you’ll tell me regardless.”

There was the usual talk about sonno joi, or the expulsion of foreigners. But one thing caught Koshijiro’s attention. “The samurai class has abused their power and wealth for far too long. What we want is to remind them that at their core, they are no better than anyone else. To level the field, so to speak, and put an end to the four class system. Think about it, and we’ll be in town.” He provided the name of an inn they frequented and departed.

The conversation kept surfacing in Koshijiro’s thoughts. He did not believe that foreign influence was totally beneficial. The consequences of famine, economic turmoil, and disease were too severe to be ignored. Hayashi was one of many who had suffered from the growing unrest among the people. But it was too late to close the borders again. The military was already incorporating Western technology, and Choshu was offering military training to commoners. Omura’s follower spoke of humbling the samurai. Abolishing the class structure…he could accept that idea. Takaoka was supporting Satsuma and Choshu, the leaders of the rebellion. They were gathering anyone who was willing to go to Kyoto and assist in the fight to end the shogunate. A number of samurai from Oyumi were going, including Koshijiro’s direct superior, but before he could leave, he had to speak to Kyoko and Kaoru.

Kyoko responded first. “Of course, I want you to stay and be safe. If you leave, you might never return. But…” She stared at her own hands, wrapped around her teacup. A few wisps of hair escaped from behind her ear, and he reached over to tuck them back. “You feel very strongly about this.” With an inhale, she firmly straightened and met his gaze. “Promise us you’ll survive.”

“I promise. Will you and Kaoru be alright?”

Their daughter hadn’t said anything yet, her eyes wide as she looked at them. Kyoko reached for her hands, drawing her closer.

“Kaoru and I will be fine. I’m certain we won’t be the only women left behind either. We’ll manage and welcome you home when you return.”

“We’ll be here, Otou-san, don’t worry about us.” Kaoru’s voice was subdued, but she attempted a smile.

“Thank you. I’ll be home again before you know.”

He had been very naïve.

***

His first experience with war could never be forgotten. From the march on foot to the first battle cry in earshot, it all stayed with him. Most of the early days blurred together, leaving the impression of sore feet and shoulders. But when they reached Kyoto, the adrenaline surged within him and his fingers shook as he loaded his gun.

One moment, it was quiet. The next, commands were shouted down the line, and then, there was cracking gunfire and smoke. The soldier next to him was struck by a bullet. The man in front was cut down, blood seeping through his uniform. Behind him, an enemy cannonball landed on people he couldn’t name but their screams of agony echoed forever.

It was madness. Every day was a fresh ordeal.

The first time he killed a man, it was with his sword. It had been a long day, and his opponent was too slow for one moment. That was all it took, Koshijiro’s blade sinking deeper than either of them expected. The man’s features slackened, and Koshijiro knew he was already gone. The body twitched several times, before finally falling as the sword was removed. Koshijiro’s feet were planted to the ground, which was gradually darkening in color.

I’m sorry.

The words died on his tongue, as a bullet flew past, the sound deafening and reminding him that to stay still in battle meant death. He couldn’t linger, he had to keep moving. He had promised Kyoko and Kaoru he would come home to them, and that became his anchor on the battlefield. Even if doing so meant that he had to feel hollow for all of the rest.

***

“Otou-san? Otou-san?”

Koshijiro jolted. Kaoru was standing before him. When had she approached? He hadn’t noticed.

She beamed at him. “We’re having lunch now.” The sunlit yard stretched behind her, and he gripped the edges of the porch.

He had been home for a week, yet nothing felt real. He should be happy, he was alive and not in bad shape. Many men had not returned at all. But he felt like part of him had been left behind on the battlefield, drifting aimlessly and pulling the rest of him with it until a loud noise startled him and then he was on edge. It wore him out; he was constantly tired, despite waking well after sunrise. And there were the nightmares. He didn’t feel right.

Things had changed in Chiba too. Osue had succumbed to pneumonia in his absence, and he had already paid numb respects to the faithful old woman. Kyoko was understandably melancholy, not helped at all by how her illness had taken a turn. She was on bedrest, and her medicines had increased in quantity. Neither of them were sure how well they were working.

“We met a woman who teaches kenjutsu.”

“You did?”

“Her name is Chiba-san, as in the Chiba clan. Kaoru and I were buying groceries, and she was in her uniform. She was kind enough to invite us to her afternoon lesson. Kaoru really enjoyed it, so I feel more at ease.”

“Then, you can attend her lessons more often. It would be good for Kaoru.” He hadn’t been teaching, he wasn’t ready. Kyoko understood, but Kaoru clearly missed it. Even though she liked Chiba-san’s lessons, he overheard the two of them talking, while they thought he was having a nap.

“Is Otou-san going to be okay?”

“I don’t know yet, Kaoru.”

“He doesn’t talk about the war. It must have been scary.”

“It would be better not to ask. There are some things your father can’t share with us, that he wants to shield us from.” Kyoko evenly said. “When it’s time, he’ll share.”

“And what if he never does?”

“Then, that’s alright. We’ll be here to support him, just like always. He’s still your Otou-san, no matter what.”

“Oh. I get it now.”

His sight flooded and he doubled over. Kyoko and her infinite patience! And his innocent daughter, whose feelings were hurt. Here he was, being pathetic. He didn’t step out to acknowledge them, but he resolved in his heart that he would try to return to normal.

He wrote a routine for himself, including meditation and what to think of to pull himself back to reality. He was out of bed before his wife and daughter, to clean the dojo and equipment, before reintroducing kenjutsu back into his life. But he couldn’t use a real blade anymore. Never again, not even to keep students. He couldn’t let go of the sword, but he could forge a new relationship with it, to protect who was important to him. He began drafting new kata, on defending and disarming. The work anchored him even further, kept him from falling too deeply into listlessness.

Kyoko and Kaoru were encouraging, every step of the way. His wife woke him from the worst nightmares, and she intuitively knew when to give him space and when to be near. She always made her presence known, never startling him. When he returned to work, his satchel hid little notes in her handwriting, heartfelt reminders that pushed back against his dark thoughts. Kaoru was determined to make him smile once a day. Her good cheer was infectious, as she took over in leading their daily stretches. Upon finding her mother’s notes, she added her own, complete with the signature she was practicing. One of her first sewing projects was a handkerchief for him, a fine dark green with three leaves, and she presented it with such pride, his weariness lifted.

It wasn’t always easy. Some days, he faltered, folded in on himself. It wasn’t until months later that he could think back and realize how low he had been. He wasn’t certain if he’d ever feel like that again, but he learned to recognize the triggers and cope.

Now that the Emperor had moved to the freshly renamed Tokyo and there was peace at last, properties were up for grabs. The more Koshijiro heard, the more he leaned into the possibility. There was excellent medical care in the capital, and plenty of work to be had. The influx of people also meant more potential students. It was a time for change, and when would another opportunity like this occur again?

The paperwork was quickly finalized and they packed their belongings. By year’s end, they were settled into their new home in Tokyo. Koshijiro had commissioned renovations and additions, and though the house was larger than needed for a family of three, he and Kyoko discussed accepting boarders to pay off the debt. But the bathhouse was worth it, to the delight of Kyoko and Kaoru, and he liked his dojo very much. The wood smelled fresh and fragrant, and he pivoted in the open space. The light poured in, washing over his face. This was his school, the one he had yearned for all these years. A school of swordsmanship that would use the blade to protect, never to kill. A school that would represent a vow for the present and a wish for the future.

Kamiya Kasshin. The living heart.

***

At first, he thought the Kamiya plot had moved, because there were only supposed to be three graves, for his parents and Kyoko. So the fourth had puzzled him for a moment, before he realized whose it was. Oh. Well, this was very strange, to see his own grave.

“Kenkaku Koshimichi Koki…?” He muttered. The Buddhist name he had been granted for the afterlife felt like it belonged to a different person entirely.

Fortunately, there weren’t many weeds. The ones that were present gave his right shoulder enough work. As he was finishing up, a kind couple offered to scrub down the headstones and light the incense. They made small talk, that they were newlyweds and he had married into her family. They refused any monetary payment, and with clasped hands, they were soon on their way. Alone, Koshijiro knelt.

“I’m a little early, but I thought these flowers would be nice. And sorry, that Kaoru isn’t here with me.” It would be nearly eighteen years ago, that she was born. “I’d rather celebrate her birthday when she’s home. We’ve missed out on that, the past two times.”

The wind ruffled his hair. It was getting longer, he needed a trim.

“I’ve been working on adjusting Kamiya Kasshin, for a one-handed variant. Not just for me, but for Yutaro and those in similar situations. It would also be good for anyone who’s been injured.” For that matter, injured people weren’t far from his mind. “Even though I’d like to be there, fighting with them.” He stood, brushed off his sore knees, and gave a last smile. “I’ll be back for Obon, with Kaoru and everyone else.”

***

After multiple appointments, Kyoko finally spoke the truth aloud. “I’m not going to live much longer, am I?”

Dr. Gensai slowly nodded. “Yes. I wish I could do something, anything.”

“You’ve done so much already, ever since we moved here last year.”

Kaoru worked her way under Kyoko’s arm, half-crawling into her lap. “Okaa-san.”

Koshijiro was barely listening, the world closing upon the clinic’s room. Nothing seemed real at that moment.

As the days passed, the neighborhood pitched in. His police colleagues covered extra shifts in his place, and their wives kept Kyoko company while he was working. He received plenty of groceries with a hand wave in regards to payment, which he never got used to. There was always something on the table for dinner. An acquaintance by some degrees, the apprentice of an artisan who had admired the work of Kamiya Keiichiro, offered to paint Kyoko’s picture, free of charge. The ink portrait was very somber, unlike his wife, but Kyoko appreciated the gesture. To Dr. Gensai and the rest of their visitors, she seemed accepting and strong.

However, when it was just the two of them, she was afraid of dying.

“I don’t want to go. I need to live, just a while longer, until Kaoru is a little older.” She sobbed, and it took all of Koshijiro’s willpower not to break down. He held her and didn’t speak, his throat burning.

Kaoru was on her best behavior, ensuring her mother was warm and had food. She braided both of their hair at night and chose Kyoko’s clothes in the morning. She read aloud, stumbling on a few unfamiliar words and making up for the little mistakes with her own interest in the novels.

Sometimes, his wife was too fatigued by the pain in her abdomen. Her hand shook when she drew her fingers through Kaoru’s ponytail. It was too easy for her to be out of breath. But she was focused on one task in particular, and he found her carefully writing when she was able.

“It’s our family book.” She showed him the familiar cover of the volume that told the stories of their pasts. She had been updating it over the years. “The next few pages are for Kaoru, for when she’s a young woman. I’ve already written your pages, for when you feel troubled.”

“Kyoko…”

“I only want you to be well. And I’m sorry.” She pressed the heel of her palm to her eyes and gave a short laugh. “Oh no, not again.”

“No, Kyoko, don’t apologize.” He drew her trembling form into his arms and breathed in the scent of her hair. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You’ve fought a harder battle than many ever will, and even now, you handle it with grace in front of Kaoru.”

“I don’t want her to worry about me, but I think she knows anyway. She’s a good girl, our daughter. She’ll be a lovely young lady someday.” Her tone was bittersweet with longing. “My kimonos have been set aside for her?”

“Yes, for when the time is right.”

“Mm. Hopefully, they won’t be too out of fashion.”

“They’ll suit Kaoru well. I saw the blue one with the cranes, the one you wore when we met.”

“That was almost twenty years ago, right? I still remember that day, I knew you were kind and honorable. I think I loved you from the moment I told you my name. I never expected to have this, any of this. But I’ve seen the cherry blossoms each year with you, my husband who I’m very proud of. Every day with you has been wonderful.”

“I haven’t been at my best every day. Most days, perhaps even half.”

She shook her head, mouth curving upwards. “No, really. Every day.” She brought her hand to the side of his face, and he leaned in to kiss her.

By autumn, she was in the hospital again. She was deteriorating fast, yet she held onto Koshijiro’s hand as the doctors came in and out. She was too weak to leave her bed, and he held back her hair when her nausea was too powerful to keep at bay. The worst was when she didn’t seem to recognize him or Kaoru, rapidly blinking at them when they greeted her. Her confusion was frightening, and he always ushered Kaoru out, saying that Okaa-san needed her rest. But she was sharp enough to notice.

“It’s so hard to see her like this. I wish I could do something!” She exclaimed, kicking a stray pebble in the road.

“I feel the same. I’d rather it be me in her place.”

“Otou-san, you shouldn’t be in the hospital either.” Kaoru corrected, slumping. “All of us should be home.”

He couldn’t argue, and he took her hand as they departed.

The weather chilled, the leaves bright with color. Flowers were in rare abundance, but they managed to procure an armful of pink dianthus. Kaoru strode into the hospital room, petals falling in her wake.

“Okaa-san, we’re here to visit!”

“Hello.” Her voice was barely audible but her expression was warm.

Koshijiro was relieved she was lucid. “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.”

“No, I just woke up. What time is it?”

He told her, as Kaoru arranged the bouquet by the window.

“Oh, they’re beautiful. Thank you.” Tears welled up in her gaze. “You have such a good heart, Kaoru.” She swallowed hard, intent on making her words count. “You’ve been so helpful, so sweet and strong. I’ve told you as much as I can, but if it isn’t enough, know that you’re never alone. Listen to Otou-san, and remember that he wants what’s best for you. There’s always the book, if you need it.”

“I know where the book is. I just want you.” Kaoru quietly replied.

Kyoko was too overcome to speak, cupping Kaoru’s face. Koshijiro sat at her other side, wrapping his arm around her. They huddled close, their conversation meandering; what mattered most was that they were in the present together, for as long as it could last. Eventually, Kyoko’s breathing deepened and her eyes struggled to stay open.

“We’ll be back later.” Koshijiro promised, hesitantly extricating himself.

“See you soon, Okaa-san. Love you.” Kaoru kissed her cheek, and Kyoko gave a fragile smile.

“I love you too. I love you both so much.” Those were her last words, before she fell asleep.

By the following evening, she still hadn’t woken. A number of white-clad hospital staff filled her room, exchanging words that swept over his understanding until someone explained. Kyoko was comatose. He was going to send Kaoru home, but she stamped her foot and insisted on staying. One of the doctors offered a spare office for her to sleep in, while Koshijiro remained by Kyoko’s side. It would not be long before the end, he was warned but he would not budge. He wouldn’t let her go while she was alone.

Her weak pulse fluttered under his thumb, stopping for long seconds before picking up again. His dear, persistent Kyoko. He cupped her cheek and bent his head close, uncertain if she could hear him, but he whispered into her ear. “It’s alright, Kyoko. We don’t want you to be in pain. It’s alright.”

It was ultimately a blessing that Kyoko did not linger. Before midnight, she slipped away. Koshijiro pressed his lips to hers, in one last kiss. Then, he went to Kaoru.

She stirred awake when he touched her shoulder. “Otou-san?” Her eyes were wide with apprehension.

“She’s gone.”

“Can I see her?”

He could only nod, and he led her into the room. Kaoru climbed onto the hospital bed, and stifled her sobs into Kyoko’s neck. He held her cold hand, engraving the memory of her skin into his mind. They remained there until the very last minute.

***

The funeral was accompanied by a light rain. His arms were burdened with the container of Kyoko’s ashes, and his shoulders hunched unconsciously to protect what was left of his wife from the weather. Kaoru walked beside him, quiet and matching one of his paces with two of her own. The stoic procession marched to the cemetery, and Kyoko was buried in heavy silence.

Time passed by sluggishly. The house was too quiet, and he resorted to kenjutsu, to an escape. If he kept his body occupied and moving, he would not have to think about how empty he felt.

“Otou-san?”

The timid question stopped him mid-step, and he turned to see his daughter standing in the doorway.

“Um. I tried to make lunch. Do you want to eat yet? Because you didn’t have breakfast…”

His gut reaction was to decline, he had probably lost his appetite forever. But he stared at his daughter’s round eyes, the quiver in her chin as she waited for his answer.

No. I can’t give up, I’m all Kaoru has now, and so, I must keep up my strength.

“Alright. Let’s have lunch.”

The onigiri were misshapen, lopsided triangles. There was probably a little too much salt, but to his fatigued body, the flavor wasn’t bad. The rice was definitely undercooked though, and the only sound in the room was the crunch of grains between teeth.

Then, there was a sniffle. Koshijiro lifted his head, to see Kaoru frowning and wiping away tears, even as she chewed. “Sorry.” She warbled. “It doesn’t taste good.”

“Kaoru…” He reached over the table, to awkwardly pat her head. “If anyone should apologize, it’s me. I’m your father, it’s my duty to provide for you. But I’ve been neglecting you. I’m so sorry.”

“Mm.” She squeezed her eyes shut, rubbing her sleeve across her face.

“Don’t worry about cooking anymore. I’ll hire a new housekeeper to take care of that. I’ll also open the rooms to boarders so we can pay off the rest of the debt. Soon, I’ll continue teaching.”

“Can I be a student again?”

“Yes. The position of head student will always be yours, until you can teach with me.”

“And then?”

“And then, you’ll be assistant instructor. After that, head instructor. The dojo will be yours, and I’ll write it down so no one can take that away from you.”

Kaoru nodded. “Otou-san?”

“Hm?”

“Can I talk about Okaa-san?”

“Your mother loved stories. I think she’d like nothing more than for you to tell stories about her.”

She slowly nodded. “Will you?”

“Perhaps not right away. But even if I don’t speak, she’s always here.” He placed his hand over his heart. “And here.” He pointed to the same spot on his daughter, and she laid her fingers upon it in understanding.

“Okay. I can talk about her for both of us.”

He didn’t respond, but he patted her head again and they continued on.

It was not easy, raising a daughter alone. As much as Kaoru looked like his dear wife, she had inherited her temper from him. They did argue, over trivial matters in hindsight, but such discussions usually ended in Kaoru slamming the door to her room and for him to thumb through his designated pages in Kyoko’s book, rereading her overarching message of love and patience. He would not repeat the mistakes of his youth, and he would knock on her door, requesting that they talk. Thankfully, her anger usually blew over quickly and he made it a point to apologize to each other.

Kamiya Kasshin was ultimately a family project. Kaoru was the first student to try the new techniques, and from observing her as well, Koshijiro made necessary changes and adjustments. His daughter was a natural at kenjutsu, and she freely challenged him.

“Wouldn’t another step work for this kata? I feel like I need to get my balance back from the last turn.”

“That’s fine, but you might run into trouble if you’re in a tight space.”

“Well, that just means it’s more important to rebalance.”

“It seems the turn’s causing the issue. What if we move it up, earlier in the sequence?”

“Yeah, that could work too!”

He did hire a housekeeper, but the middle-aged woman was far stricter than her initial interview conveyed. She heavily disapproved of Kaoru’s love for swordsmanship, insisting that she rise before dawn and sleep late, to complete extra household tasks. But Kaoru was unhappier every day, and it came to a head when the housekeeper mentioned the dreaded word of “marriage”. Kaoru was late for practice and he was searching for her, overhearing the raised voices in the kitchen.

“Why would I care about some husband I haven’t even met yet?” Kaoru exploded. “I’m me and I should be loved for who I am, not because I’m ladylike enough!”

“Your education should have started when you were much younger. Now, I fear it’s too late to salvage.” She glanced over at Koshijiro, striding towards them. “Ah, here’s your father.” If she was expecting him to defend her viewpoint, he was glad to disappoint her.

“I need her in the dojo. Don’t delay her and for that matter, we will not speak of marrying her off. Kaoru is only ten.” He firmly stated. “End of discussion.”

“You spoil her far too much. If she were my daughter, she’d be a proper girl and run the house on her own. I’m not sure what your wife did-”

“And that is where you stop, because she’s not your child, she’s mine.” He coldly dismissed her. “Pack your things and I’ll give you your pay for the week. We have no more need of your services.”

She huffed and gave them nasty looks but didn’t say another word. Before noon, the gate soundly shut behind her.

“Well…that probably went as well as it could.” He said at last.

Kaoru laughed. “I thought it was great. Thank you, Otou-san.” She hugged him and he patted her head. Then, she pouted. “Does this mean we need to find someone new?”

“We can wait a while.” Soon after, they met Sekihara Tae, whose friendship was much appreciated.

When Kaoru was twelve, they had the pleasant surprise of a visitor. Kikuhara was traveling through, and he was interested in the school Koshijiro had described in a New Year’s card. He joined the class as an observer, then to help with basic forms. He began to follow along with the students, and he caught on quickly. After a month, he held his own in sparring against Koshijiro. Kaoru called the close match in Koshijiro’s favor, but they were happy with the outcome.

Kikuhara’s objective seemed to be complete too. He opened a pocket watch and examined the inside. “It’s time for me to go. I have someone to return to now.” With a smile, he turned the watch around to show Koshijiro a photograph of a young girl, no older than five. “My daughter, Midori.”

“A daughter? You…married?”

“No.” Kikuhara paused. “I haven’t told anyone else this, but she’s the illegitimate child of my lord. I was tasked to care for her, but the moment she was placed in my arms, I knew she was as good as my own. She’s very frail though, and she isn’t interested in kenjutsu, unlike your Kaoru. But she’s kindhearted, like her real father.”

“With no offense to your lord, you are her father now and I’m sure she misses you.” Koshijiro pointed out without malice. “If you need any advice on raising her, please let me know.”

“I’ll remember, senpai.” He joked. “I will be sure to bother you about teaching as well. I like some of the kata from Kamiya Kasshin, and its message is honorable. I’m interested in sharing it in Echigo, alongside my own family’s tradition. Would you mind?”

“Not at all.”

“And I’ll call it…Kasshin Shintoryu Kikuhara?”

“Please don’t, you can just keep your family’s name for the school.” He was embarrassed.

“No, it’s a good name, and I’ll be happy to teach under its sign.” At the end of his stay, they saw him off with waves and promises of a future reunion, when Midori was older.

Years passed. He filled a book with the knowledge of Kamiya Kasshin, leaving it in the altar alongside Kyoko’s volume. Kaoru was promoted to assistant instructor after demonstrating mastery in the last kata, and she taught the youngest students while he focused on the older ones. They made a good team. The dojo was raucous with clashing bokken and conversation, and for some time, life was uneventful.

***

That changed when Kumamoto Castle was taken by the Satsuma army. Before the week’s end, the draft letter arrived, summoning Koshijiro to the warfront once more. He was standing frozen in the front yard and numbly rereading the notice, thinking of how he could hide it before he had a proper chance to speak to Kaoru, when she called out.

“Otou-san, what’s taking you so long?” Too late, her gaze landed on the official stamp on the envelope, and she immediately blanched. “Otou-san?”

“I’m sorry, Kaoru.”

“Why are you apologizing?!” She gave a nervous laugh. “It’s not like you chose to go.”

“In a way, I did when I joined the police.”

“Otou-san, don’t say that. I know you don’t really think so.” She touched his shoulder. “Are you going to be alright?”

“I’m more worried about you. You’ll be alone.”

“No, I won’t. I have the students, and Tae’s in town. And I can always bring on more boarders.” At his distasteful expression, she scowled. “Don’t say anything about protecting me, because I can defend myself. You know I can!”

“I’m only telling you to be cautious.”

“I am.” She grumbled.

He excused himself, to find two items. One was his tanto, and the other was his father’s. He handed the sheathed blades to her. “Keep one under your pillow, and the other in the secret compartment in the bathhouse.”

“Otou-san.”

“Remember to lock your room every night.”

“Otou-san, I’ll remember. But how are you coping? You’re being called back to war, you’ll have to…” Kill people again. The unspoken words hung in the air.

“I don’t look forward to it, but I will do my best to avoid a worst case scenario. With Kamiya Kasshin, I can disarm as many as I can.”

At that, she lit up. “So, we should train as much as possible. And I want to master the succession techniques before you go!”

That was a good idea. After lessons, they practice sparred, and Koshijiro pinpointed where she needed to improve. Not that there was much, but he wanted to teach her everything he could before leaving. The last afternoon eventually came; Kaoru focused solely on Hadome and Hawatari. She was on the verge of breaking through, and she recognized as much.

“I almost had it! And I knew where I went wrong too! One more time, Otou-san?”

“No, you’re tired. It’s already been over two hours, and I can tell you’re too exhausted to proceed any further today. We should stop here.”

She groaned, slumping. “But I wanted to master them before you left, so you can see.”

“Mastering these techniques shouldn’t be rushed, especially for my sake. You are close. So, not yet, but you’re getting better every time.” He wouldn’t be here to watch her progress though, after this day.

She must have thought so too, for she set her bokken aside and fiercely hugged him. He squeezed her back, hoping it could convey all of what he couldn’t say aloud.

The morning of departure was somber. Kaoru made breakfast, which he ate without complaint. He donned his uniform and hated that his daughter looked so sad when she saw him. However, she didn’t mention it, only asking if he had everything he needed. She trailed him past the front door, the frosted grass crackling under their footsteps.

“I’ll see you soon, Otou-san.” She said, decidedly using the temporary farewell.

“Yes. Protect the school while I’m gone, and go back inside, before you catch a cold. I’ll see you soon, Kaoru.” He clasped her shoulder, hoping to give some strength to her. Then, with great reluctance, he let go and walked alone. He closed the gate behind him, waited until Kaoru locked it again, and headed into town to join his regiment.

The journey to Satsuma was taxing, as they sailed towards Kyushu. He wasn’t as young as many of the other men, and when they camped on the southern island, he fell asleep once his head touched his pillow. The nightmares trickled back, becoming more convoluted every night. The return to the battlefield was dreaded by the other policemen, especially since they were only given wooden batons and swords. He couldn’t help but be somewhat relieved by the lack of a gun. He struck at shoulders, feet, anywhere that wasn’t lethal.

Months passed, as Saigo Takamori’s defeat forced him to flee and the Imperial army followed suit. The minor skirmishes with Saigo’s men culminated into a pincer attack on the Satsuma rebels. Koshijiro gritted his teeth and continued with striking through. To move forward, so this could be over as soon as possible. Suddenly, the line fell back, and he was perplexed for a moment, before the surrounding shouts alerted that there would be shelling. The order was to retreat, to gain as much distance for the explosions that would soon rock the battleground. Koshijiro didn’t even have to time to sheath his sword, the adrenaline humming under his skin, demanding to run as fast and far as he could. The men were tripping over each other and cursing, the fear and apprehension whittling their tempers.

A distant boom, then faint screams. Two steps later, it repeated, only closer. How much time did he have left? Koshijiro’s heart pounded out the tense seconds. A young soldier, barely older than Kaoru, stumbled to his right. Koshijiro switched his katana to his left hand and grabbed the boy’s collar. Using the momentum of his own body, he thrust the boy in front. “Take cover!” He bellowed.

Sound. It deafened him.

Force. His left arm, still outstretched behind him, twisted.

Heat. It seemed to split his skin open.

Pain. And that was enough for his eyes to roll back.

Forgive me, Kaoru-

***

He woke up, and he could hardly draw breath. He blinked. He had his sight. He was on his back, staring up at a white ceiling. The clamor of groaning men filled his ears. The smells of urine and blood were strong, and he didn’t dare open his dry mouth. He was in a hospital, a crowded one at that. For how long, he didn’t know.

I’m Kamiya Koshijiro, forty-five years old. I have a daughter, Kaoru, who is seventeen. We live in Tokyo. I work with the Tokyo Metropolitan police. I teach Kamiya Kasshin, the sword that protects.

There, his memory was intact. Although when he tried to remember what happened after the explosion, he couldn’t recall anything after the storm of sensation. He must have fainted. He twitched his fingers, his toes. No pain. He turned his head right. Well, his neck wasn’t broken, just stiff. Against his pillow, there was soft friction; the back of his head was bandaged. His right forearm bore the healing crust of a scrape, and he deduced he must have fallen on that side. But he could move his wrist and elbow joints, so there were no fractures. He checked the left-

Immediately, he jerked his head away. Shock kicked in. He didn’t have an arm. His left arm was gone. There was just wrapped white cloth, encasing the end of his shoulder. Then, why could he still feel it, down to the fingertips? He looked again, to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

He stared and stared and stared. He didn’t have an arm.

Distantly, he heard a nurse call out that he was awake, and footsteps approached. A doctor introduced himself before asking identifying questions. Koshijiro’s voice was raspy from disuse but he demonstrated he knew who he was. The doctor provided new details.

Koshijiro was in a hospital close to one of the harbors in Satsuma. A week had passed. The Imperial army was fighting on, with the last of the rebel forces weakened. Most of the province was back in the Emperor’s control and it would be a matter of weeks before Saigo surrendered. Reportedly, Koshijiro was found on the battlefield, alone and unconscious. When he was moved here, he had convulsed to reality and blood loss brought him under again.

Overall, he was in rough shape. The explosion had singed some of his hair off, and his skull had to be partially shaved. He had superficial burns on his back, that worsened on his left side. His right knee was swollen and abraded, and part of his big toenail was torn. His body bore minor cuts and bruises from landing. And he no longer had a left arm. The doctor actually had to remove more bone and tissue because what remained after the blast was not clean. But it was free from shrapnel and they could only do their best to prevent gangrene.

He was warned that there would be pain, that his body would not properly recognize that his left arm was gone. Multiple medicines were given to him, and his mouth gained a perpetual bitter taste. He slept in fits throughout his stay. All around him, other men were dying. He always noticed when another body was carried out.

A week passed, but he wasn’t quite healing. He forced himself to look at the dressings as they were changed, and they didn’t seem promising. He bitterly thought he couldn’t recover as well as he could in this place, but he had no say here. And then, one morning, he felt lethargic and his stomach sank in realization. A small part of him clung to hope that it would pass soon, but he forgot it as he became more and more delirious.

The hospital staff was saying he was feverish, and he groggily understood it was bad, because he felt so cold. Sleep was tempting. There was more medicine, more people hovering over him. He felt numb, it would be very easy to sleep forever. Too weak to struggle, his eyes closed.

He did not expect to dream.

He was sitting on the porch, the moon abnormally large and bright above. A quiet warm summer’s night. And he couldn’t see her, but he could feel Kyoko’s presence, as if she was standing behind him.

You’re so close.

I know. But not yet, Kyoko. I made a promise to you, didn’t I?

It was as if she was laughing, her breath warm against his neck. Then, please go home.

Yes. He couldn’t possibly disobey and he was swallowed once more by the void.

When he woke, his fever had broken. To the doctors’ surprise and awe, he had overcome the infection. He didn’t feel like it was miraculous at all; he had made promises and he intended to keep them. Once he heard his wounds were healed, he declared. “I’m leaving.” The response was dismissive, until he tried to leave his bed. He’d had enough of being in the hospital, he argued, and he’d heal more if he wasn’t restrained. That only sent him to another facility, with others in slightly better condition. From so much time on bedrest, he was frustratingly weak, and his legs shook underneath him when he attempted to walk around. But he pushed on, easily recalling a blue-clad figure with braids in her family’s yard, and conjuring a younger one, years later, who must be teaching in the dojo. Even if he no longer had one arm, he still had the other, his legs, and his head. That was good enough to get by. By the time he was discharged, the war had ended with Saigo’s suicide. His return home was overdue but winter’s approach undercut his pace. He was trying desperately not to get sick again.

The initial leg was frustratingly slow. He had no money, and any innkeeper dismissed his offer of labor. One benefit about his amputation was that it was noticeable, and kind strangers would grant him a night or two in a stable or on a fishing boat. But most people tended to avoid his gaze, so he did his best to keep moving. The new phantom pains were excruciating, his ghostly arm wrenching as it had in its final moments. Those incapacitating occasions, as well as his poor physical shape, forced him to rest often, to his chagrin.

He took one such break, on the wayside of a market street. He had managed to buy passage back to Honshu, though it meant he had to agree to a slight detour, since the port was not close to the main roads he recognized. This town was bustling with naval activity, thanks to the iron ships anchored in the dark water. The marine air was soothing, and the latest episode of pain ebbed with each deep breath.

“Ojii-san, where did your arm go?”

He startled, and in his periphery, a little boy stared at him with round eyes. There was a flood of emotion, but his most prominent thought was: I can’t tell this child it was blown off! “Well…” He searched for an appropriate thing to say. “I traded it.”

“For what?”

“So I could go home.”

A woman in her early thirties approached, holding the hand of a slightly older boy. “Sadatake! Oh, I’m so sorry.” The mother was so mortified, bowing her head multiple times. Her obi rested low, under the modest curve of her belly. “Sadatake, apologize to this uncle.”

“Sorry.”

“Please, don’t concern yourselves over it.”

She searched his face for a moment. “You look like you could use some rest and good food. Why don’t you come to our place? My husband wouldn’t mind at all.”

“I couldn’t impose.”

“No, I insist.” She pressed her palm on her rounded abdomen and smiled beatifically. The underlying message was not to upset her. “And my husband’s heading this way right now.” She directed her gaze over his shoulder, and he pivoted.

What he saw stunned him.

The man had plenty of silver in his hair, and his right leg dragged with each step, though the sleeping toddler draped over his shoulder didn’t help. Those fox eyes had regained their spark and framed by creases, they widened in recognition. “Kamiya? Kamiya Koshijiro?”

“Hayashi.” He shook his head at the incredulity of the moment, and he gestured to the site of his recent loss. “After all this time, I would certainly like to talk to you.”

The family led the way to a modest house, near Hayashi’s workplace at a naval office. The boys were young, having turned three, five, and seven, and they had just finished celebrating the milestone thrice over. Hayashi was a long way off from his former devastated self. Koshijiro felt a mixture of relief and sympathy as he watched his friend mind the little ones’ table manners at dinner.

“Sadakazu, here, move your cup away so you won’t spill it. Sadanori, wipe your mouth.” Even as he was speaking, he was already carrying out the actions, inspecting his youngest’s face one last time to ensure it was thoroughly clean. Hayashi’s wife fondly watched the spectacle, as Sadatake ate beside her.

The comfort of having a meal at a full table was a balm to Koshijiro’s weary spirit. After the dishes were cleared and the boys were sent to bed, despite their loud protests, Hayashi poured out two cups of warm sake. Koshijiro inhaled the fragrance, appreciating the liquor.

“Been saving up this bottle for a while, and I’m glad I did. I haven’t had the chance to drink in a while either.”

He took a sip. Just hot enough and very good indeed. “I didn’t know you’d become a family man.”

“I didn’t really expect to be one.” Hayashi admitted. “During the Bakumatsu, I was here, watching the troops travel past and trying not to feel useless. But Akie’s family clan sided with the Satcho alliance, and that’s how we met. There wasn’t much of a ceremony, because we married against her family’s wishes. I don’t blame them; I can still hardly believe she’d pick me. But before I could scare her off, the boys came along. Now it’s twins, so I hope at least one of them can convince the rest to be calm and kind to their old father.”

Koshijiro laughed. It was the first time in months, he realized, that he had. “You’ll miss some of it when they’re this young.”

“You have a family, don’t you? A daughter?”

“Yes, Kaoru is in Tokyo. Kyoko passed away, seven years ago.”

Hayashi’s jaw clenched. “I’m sorry. But you made her happy, anyone could see that. ”

Koshijiro chose not to reply, instead drinking from his cup.

“How old is your daughter now?”

“She’s seventeen.” He had missed her birthday. Discomfort spread through him.

“Damn, you’ll probably be marrying her off before the twins arrive.”

“Kaoru’s still young.”

“I was married to my first wife when I was younger than that.” Hayashi countered. “And it’s been months since you’ve been gone.”

Koshijiro frowned. “I need to return.”

“Ah, you haven’t changed much at all.” His friend grinned. “Maekawa’s in Tokyo too, right? Well, don’t tell him or anyone else yet that I’m here. I will, when I’m ready. Probably after Akie delivers.”

“I think they’d be glad to know you’re living well, but I understand.” The last of the alcohol was drained, and Hayashi thumped his back before urging him to retire. That night, he slept comfortably.

Before dawn broke, he intended to leave quietly, not to bother them anymore and to get a head start on his day. But he wasn’t as quiet as he hoped, for rustling noises carried over into the hallway. He tried to quicken his pace, but a door slid open.

“Gotcha.”

His sighed. “Good morning, Hayashi. And Akie-san.” The couple walked towards him with intent, Hayashi’s hand in his robe.

His friend clicked his tongue. “Good morning indeed. Were you trying to sneak away? How foolish, Kamiya. My wife’s hearing is not to be underestimated. Especially since we want to give you this.” He pushed a cloth bag into Koshijiro’s hand, the hefty weight studded with the metal ridges of the coins within.

“I can’t possibly accept. Please, keep this for your children.”

“They have plenty already. You, on the other hand, don’t have a naval secretary father, so take it.”

Akie added. “It’s a long road to Tokyo, especially when traveling alone. If you can find safety on a boat, a train, or even a cart, we’d be at ease knowing you have the means.” She then kept her voice low. “And I wanted to personally thank you. I know what you and your friends did for my husband, all those years ago, and it’s because of you that I have him. That I have my children and this life. I hope this is a fraction of what I owe you.”

His resistance crumbled. “…I promise not to squander it. In return, I hope you have a safe delivery.” He stepped out, to slip on his shoes.

Hayashi held his wife by the waist, to shield her from the morning chill, and raised his hand in farewell. “If you ever need anything else, let me know.”

“I will, and thank you. It was good to see you.” They bowed to one another, and he did not look back. His path was clear.

The days unfolded, one after another. At last, the surroundings became familiar, and every step took him towards the dojo, his school, and Kaoru.

***

In the first week of July, the Kyoto police informed them that Shishio and his followers had revealed themselves. Koshijiro was loath to miss an incoming message, and he remained at the station with the night shift, catching himself from nodding off until his sore neck forced him to trudge back to the empty house. The contingency plan was never far from his mind, even manifesting in his dreams. He was awake for good when the news came that Shishio’s ship was burning and falling to pieces off the shoreline. And then, there was another telegram within the hour.

“This one was specifically meant for you, Officer Kamiya.” The chief wryly said. “From your daughter.”

It was short but conveyed so much. WE WON. ALL SAFE.

If he was the type to dance, he could have danced all the way home. But he wasn’t, and ultimately, that meant he noticed that the lights were still on in Dr. Gensai’s clinic. When he knocked, Takani opened up, her eyes tired but offering a little smile when she recognized him. “Kamiya-san?”

“Yes, I have good news. The battle was won in Kyoto.” He showed her the telegram with pride.

“Really?” She exhaled in relief. “I’m so thankful. But it must have been difficult. I would like to see if they need care…”

“Then, let’s go. We’ll leave with the first train in the morning.”

“Just like that?” Takani laughed. “Well, I won’t argue. I’ll tell Dr. Gensai and get my supplies. See you in a few hours.”

He could hardly wait.

[ssa25]

Day 3: Post War (Sasuhina month 2019)

@sasuhinamonth

The first time he actually noticed her as a woman, was when all of them had gathered at their favourite barbecue place for dinner and drinks. Apparently, they did that a few times a year to catch up amidst their busy lives. But it was a first for him. His travels for repentance had kept him away for a good part of the two years, since the end of the war.

It was the sound of her laugh, her drunk laugh to be precise, that made his head snap in her direction. If she was Team 8's kunoichi before, now she was the woman with the pleasant laugh. He did not know if it was the alcohol in his system that made him react to her.

"Kiba~kun, stop refilling my glass…", even her whine was soft. "I hate not being in control of my senses.. . It isn't very becoming ... of a future clan head."

He could appreciate her uprightness. And the warm tone of her flushed cheeks. He had to force his eyes away from her, but his ears strained to hear more of her.

Her canine-loving team mate laughed boisterously, "I think you are already past that limit Hinata~chan."

The third member of their team, Aburame Shino was already out of his senses, as he slept with his head down on the table, his insects buzzing around his head.

She seemed shy, unlike the other kunoichis of Konoha. But that did not mean that she was incapable. She looked like someone who had silent determination, not loud proclamation of their bravado like his team members. She caught his interest, as fleeting as it may turn out to be.

Over the next few days, he heard bits about her during casual conversation between Rookie Nine. About how she volunteered at the hospital two days a week. And at the local orphanage every once in a while. About the hushed speculation that she planned to step down as clan head as soon as Hanabi was of age. Unconsciously, he formed an opinion about her in his head.

The second time, he noticed her out of the crowd, was during his grocery run at the market. He saw her covered in the most conservatives of clothes, not a sliver of skin showing which was in stark contrast to her new ninja uniform, which hugged her curvy petite body in an appealing way. But her civilian clothes were all dull colours. Although if you looked closely with a discerning eye, they were woven with the most expensive materials, as was expected from one of the wealthiest ninja clans in the Fire Nation. She looked happy and content picking out from fresh produce. No outward display of fame or power, as she smilingly greeted the humble stall owner.

It was after the third time his eyes drew to her, that he decided that he wanted to know her more. On his way to visit his older brother's grave, very early one morning, he heard her soft voice greeting the old frail man upkeeping the cemetery. He was sure she must have felt his presence too. And true to his thoughts, a few seconds later, she turned in his direction and bowed her head in acknowledgement with a kind smile.

She went about her business, without so much of a second glance in his direction. She cleaned the headstone, before laying down a fresh bouquet of handpicked flowers and lighting a few incense sticks. Silently, she clasped her palms together and offered a prayer. 

Unaffected by the world around her, she was a vision, and he stared shamelessly. His eyes traced the name on the tombstone. Neji Hyuuga. Jounin. War Hero. And her cousin. There was something melancholic yet beautiful in the way her thick lashed eyelids opened but lowered again as she sat still staring down, as if she was having a wordless conversation with her departed cousin. The one who died saving her.

Maybe, he too, saw her worth to be infinitely more than what was apparent on the outside. 

He decided to wait outside the crematorium gates for her. It took her a good few minutes, to meet him outside, her hypnotic gray eyes looking at him warily.

"Is something the matter, Uchiha~san?"

"Hyuuga Hinata, what do you think about my past sins?", he asked her bluntly. She blinked her eyes a few times, her frown making her confusion evident. 

"I-I beg your pardon?" 

"You heard me. What do you think?" 

She stared at him as if he was missing a screw or two. But after a few seconds of contemplation, she squared her shoulders as she answered. 

"Unforgivable.", her voice was almost soft as a whisper, but it was clear enough for him to hear.

Her answer managed to satisfy and worry him. She was impartial to him, that was a good thing in his books. Yet it made him wonder if she found his efforts at making amends to be pointless. If she would decline his offer in disgust.

As if reading his mind, she began to elaborate. 

"Your past sins are unforgivable. But you also helped save the world from the strongest foes we have ever faced. A-and you are trying to atone for your mistakes by helping people in need across all lands. Good deeds will not erase your dark past. But in the end, if they manage to outweigh your sins, then it means that you have learnt from your mistakes and you will continue to do what is right, what is just. Your sins might be unforgivable, but as a human you deserve a chance at forgiveness. T-that is what I think."

"So you won't hold it against me, if I decided to ask you out?" 

Her eyes widened like saucers. "A… A-Ask me out?" 

"Is there a problem?" 

"Umm… N-No… But… I like someone else.." 

His face soured, as did his mouth at the mention of the fact he had come to realise and he had tried to downplay it. 

"Yes, I'm aware of it. But I can be very convincing. How does 9 o'clock dinner at the new tempura place sound?" 

"Eh?!!", she was positively pink by now. "I-Is this some kind of prank, Uchiha~san?" 

"I'm not Naruto. I don't pull pranks. I'm Sasuke. Call me by my name."

"Sa… Sasuke~san, why are you doing this?"

"Are you going to pretend you don't know the reason behind asking someone out?"

"B-But this is like.. So out of the blue." 

"It's not. But you are always preoccupied elsewhere with something or someone."

Now she looked ashamed as she cast her eyes down. "B-But I can't do that to Sakura~san."

"Let's discuss more on this at dinner. I will arrive at the Hyuuga estate at half past eight to pick you up." 

With that he vanished into thin air, as Hinata was left flabbergasted. She had to pinch her arm to discern if she was dreaming.

Hiding somewhere to avoid the date was impossible, this was Uchiha Sasuke after all. 

" Oh well… ", she muttered. "It's just one date, and then I will tell him clearly, that he's not my type."

Little did she know, that ten months later, she would be eating her own words, as she walked down the altar to marry him. 

xxx

Note: Wasn't very satisfied with how this turned out. But I can't edit this anymore than I already have. As usual, apologies for the delay.

[nightofnyx8]

Robstar Week Day 6: Children

So, I actually wrote this a couple of years ago, but I edited it to fit today’s theme. I find Mar’i to be a very interesting character to write, with many different sides to reflect her parents’. And based on the storyline in Kingdom Come, it’s always interesting to consider why she became Nightstar in the first place. So without further ado, I hope you enjoy today’s theme.

I fear the night.

The glow from the day slowly fades away, and darkness seeps into every corner. It swallows the light, chokes it. Night means uncertainty, blindness, cowardice.

Death.

Of course, my dad thrives on it. He whoops with joy as he swings from tower to tower in a black and blue bodysuit. The darkness clings to him, aiding him as he takes his enemies by surprise. A sudden chill, a metal clang, and then you're upside down as you're met with a smirk and a bad pun. The one and only Nightwing of Blüdhaven was the prince of the night (as a certain Bat claimed the crown as King).

My mom was different. She didn't exactly blend into the night (especially when her hair was on fire). She drew her strength from the sun, brimming with radiance and passion. There was little subtlety in her actions: just a high voltage starbolt with deadly aim. She wore her heart on her sleeve, her emotions the center of every decision. Dad says I take after her in that area, but I'm still not sure it's a compliment.

They made a good team, Nightwing and Starfire. Night and Day. Darkness and Light. Dad could cool her fiery temper, Mom made him laugh. She managed to drag him out of the evidence room, and he brought her back down to Earth when she drifted too far out. I guess it was only natural that I came along to complete everything.

I thought it would be like that forever.

But the night always comes, no matter how bright the day was. And in my family, it has a history of claiming the ones we love.

____________________________

It was stupid. So unbelievably unfair. She had faced the most unearthly demons: demented aliens, homicidal sisters, psychotic metahumans in Halloween costumes. But in the end, my mother was defeated by something so incredibly…human.

At first, we didn't think much of it. After all, the symptoms of a common flu were nothing to fret over. But a few days stretched into weeks, which turned into months. She grew weaker and frailer, her strength and glow dimming every passing day. She spent most of her time in bed, curled in a ball waiting for the pain to stop. All while her worried husband and daughter watched helplessly by her side.

When the results finally came back, it was worse than we feared. The disease found in her body had spread so quickly through her foreign DNA that it would have been declared terminal on the first sighting. There was nothing that the doctors could do. And even despite Bruce’s best efforts and research, it was to no avail. All we could do now was wait.

The morning after the news my father climbed on top of the roof and remained there for the rest of the day. No matter how many times Bruce or Alfred tried to coax him down, he stubbornly stayed put. Needing some comfort, my nine-year-old self flew up to meet him on the roof. As I landed softly next to him, he turned to look at me. His deep blue eyes that once held laughter and light were now hollow, empty, and hopeless. He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear and whispered, "I was the same age, Mar'i."

We sat there as the sun set behind the skyline, watching Bruce sped back to Gotham while dusk approached. It was a tender mercy Jason and Tim had volunteered to look after Blüdhaven for the time being. Nightwing simply didn't have the heart to don the mask tonight. We probably could have stayed up there all night when I heard a soft cough behind me. I turned to face my mother on the roof, who looked exasperated with the both of us.

"You will both catch colds if you two stay up here all night." She sounded exhausted, but her eyes held a bit of amusement in the fading light.

My dad suddenly came to life. "Kory! What are you doing up here?"

My mother scooted next to me and stroked my hair. "Well, it does get a little lonely down there by myself, especially after yesterday. Besides, the sun is setting. It is tradition, is it not, my dear Robin?"

Dad gave a timid smile at his old superhero name. But his demeanor changed quickly. "Kory, you should be resting."

My mother scoffed. "I have been resting far too much. I wish to do something more with my life."

"But Kory," my father sighed. "You're..."

"I do not have much time left, Richard. I want to spend time with you and Mar'i. I refuse to spend the rest of my life being afraid of even going outside."

Dad sighed. "I just don't want to lose you, Kory. At all."

There was an eerie silence on the roof as the inevitable truth sunk in. Wanting things to go back to normal, I tugged on my father's sleeve.

"Daddy, can you tell me a story?" I asked. He looked down at me with surprise before smiling.

"Only if your mother helps." He replied. Dad picked me up in his lap, just like he did when I was smaller, and pulled Mom close to him.

"Ok Mar'i," he started. "Let me tell you the time your mother first met a certain little Robin by almost destroying an entire city..."

____________________________

Surprisingly, the next couple of months were considerably normal: school, work, training, patrol. We had even gone to see Paris so Mom could finally see the infamous "tower of love." We could almost pretend nothing was wrong.

Almost.

My mother tried not to let anyone see it, but she was slowly fading. More time in bed was necessary, the trips to the hospital were frequent. The medicine receipts piled higher, as well as our stack of bills. She slowly began to lose her strength, her eyesight, and finally, her ability of flight.

But she always managed to keep a smile on her face around me and Dad. On better days, she would take me on short walks and point out the most random things.

"Look at that little robin, Mar'i. Is it not beautiful?"

"But it's just a bird, Mommy."

"Just a bird? Hmm, on the surface yes. But perhaps there is more than what meets the eye. Just like you, my little Bumgorf."

Relatively, these were happy moments. But at last the dreaded day came, and it started out perfectly.

Dad got work off early so we could go to the last night of the carnival. We ate too much cotton candy, failed at most of the games, and were about to go on the Ferris wheel when my mother suddenly doubled over and grabbed onto my Dad for support.

"Kory?" He watched in horror as his wife looked up at him with terrified eyes as she struggled to breathe.

"Kory!" He scooped up my mom bridal style and rushed to the car, his daughter along in a tow.

When we finally got back to the house, we knew we only had minutes. My dad had laid her down on the bed and clutched her hand while stroking her hair.

"Mar'i." My mother rattled. "Come closer. I wish to see you better." She reached out for my hand and squeezed it weakly.

I didn't say a word as I looked up at my mother. Her fiery red hair had lost its luster a long time ago. It hung like a dull rusty curtain over her pale face. Her beautiful features were slowly eroding due to the harsh medicines. But her eyes were still a vibrant glowing green, full of Tamaranean energy—the same energy that flowed through my veins.

"Kory," My father's voice broke as he placed his forehead against hers. She smiled and closed her eyes.

"Richard," she breathed. "If I could only express to you how much you mean to me."

My father kissed her temple. "I already know, Star. I've known for a very long time."

My mother drew me closer as she whispered, "Do not forget to smile, Mar'i. There is joy in this life if you look for it. Please, do not let your father forget that either. I love you, my little Starshine."

I cried as she held me, Dad wrapping his arms around the both of us as my mother gazed upon her little family for the last time.

____________________________

"That's Pegasus, and over to the left a bit is Andromeda."

"Is that what the Tamaraneans call them?"

"No, they have weird names for constellations, with even weirder stories. I can't even pronounce most of them."

"I bet I could."

"Okay fine, Princess. Nice to see that you're still humble as ever."

I smile as I slug Dad in the arm.

"Ow!" He complains. "You Tamaraneans seem to forget that your playful punches hurt."

"Quit being a baby and pass me the mustard."

Dad smirks as he gives me the large bottle with a straw sticking out. Our evening picnic by mom's grave seemed an odd sight to some, but we didn't care. Our little memorial marked seven years since my mother's passing. We spent the day with Gar, Rachel, and Vic at the pier as they told me the stories I had heard a thousand times. I never grew tired of hearing about my parents' adventures. Bruce and Damian came by the house later with about twenty floral arrangements to brighten up the grave. And once it hit 7 o'clock, my dad and I headed off to the cemetery to visit my mother.

Four years ago, Dad put his foot down. We were not going to just stare and cry at a headstone all day. So he packed a lunch along with some scrapbooks into our picnic basket as we set off for the cemetery. He said Mom would have wanted us to throw a party or something to celebrate her life. The tradition had remained ever since.

"Speaking of Tamaran, I found this the other day while I was cleaning the attic." He pulls out a small white package and hands it to me. I remove the wrapping to discover a round magenta pendant, set in a silver casing. Its polished surface gleams in the moonlight.

"It was your mother's." Dad says. "She told me it was the only thing she could grab before she was taken by the Gordanians."

I hold up the pendant and trace my finger over the worn Tamaranean markings on the edges. "It's beautiful."

"It's yours." Dad states simply.

I look at him in shock. "But...this is moms. Doesn't it belong to you?"

Dad wraps my fingers around the pendant and looks at me with imploring eyes. "Mar'i, she would have wanted you to have it. Besides, you're the one who's got Tamaranean blood."

I sigh. "Like I even have a clue how to live up to that title. How am I supposed to control...this?" I feel a tingle up my arm as green energy collects around my closed fist. The starbolt isn’t refined and accurate like my mother's. It crackles and burns in the cool night air. Uncontrolled.

My dad gives me a wary look. "You'll learn, Mar'i. It just takes time."

My starbolt fizzes out as my emotions give way to grief. "I miss her."

"I know Starshine, I know. There's not a day that goes by that I don't miss her by my side." He draws his arm around my sagging shoulders and pulls me close to his strong chest. We stay that way for a while as the breeze blows my tousled hair away from my face.

"Dad?"

"Mhm?"

"Do you think Mom's watching us right now?"

He looks up at the shimmering constellations. "I know she is. She's probably dragging my parents around up in Heaven and gushing about how gorgeous her daughter is."

I let a small smile break through. "She really loved us, didn't she?"

Dad gazes back at me with intensity. "Mar'i, you were her world."

I crane my neck to see the stars above. We used to spend hours naming the constellations. Sometimes Mom would even bring me to meet Dad on patrol so we could climb the highest tower and see them a little closer.

That seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Dad, can you tell me a story?" I put on my "I'm-still-your-little-girl" face for the extra effect.

He laughs. "I'm pretty sure that's not a single one you haven't heard at least fifty times."

"Oh come one, there's got to be at least one you haven't told me yet."

He gazes off as he thinks for a moment. "Aha! I've got it!"

I lay my head on his shoulder as he goes off on one of his and mom's adventures. I close my eyes and try to picture my mother sitting next to us, laughing at Dad's stupid jokes while holding me close.

I open my eyes and smile. I'm a part of her legacy. Hers and Dads. And even if she couldn't be here physically, I could still bring a part of her back down to Earth.

Perhaps it was time to let go of old fears. Accept and move forward. Like an old Bat once said, to conquer fear, you must become fear. Maybe I could do the same.

For if we did not have the night, then how could we see the stars?

____________________________

Ok, I honestly cried writing this, but according to Kingdom Come Starfire died of some circulatory illness. It is interesting considering her alien anatomy, but I wanted to focus on how Dick and Mar’i may have reacted to the situation. Anyway, thank you for reading and I promise a happier story next time. :D 

[kitsuneiisms]

starlight in love with the fall and girl with a mouthful of knives

starlight in love with the fall: to achieve their goals, what is your muse willing to give up? and how far are they willing to go to do it?girl with a mouthful of knives: if your muse could take back anything they’ve ever said or done, what would it be and why?(Due to minor timeskip spoilers, I will be keeping these answers under the cut)

[Starlight and Ash]

(Timeskip Spoilers, BE path)

“…I wanna say that you don’t have to do this. I wanna say that we can just put the weapons down, you know, that we can talk this out. That we can go back to how things used to be.”

Embers crackled, waves of heat assaulting her ears, her fur, but Selkie stood her ground. Every flame that burst, every fence that popped and hissed, another wave of heat and ash, the smell of sulfur ingrained in her nose. In the distance, screams and cries - unimportant now, in this moment, in the heat of battle that froze her shattered heart to its core. 

Tired eyes, unblinking, unmoving from their target, the bird flying amidst the storm, spear in hand their branch of security, their anchor. How the blue jay flew, even amidst the turmoil, amidst certain death it still flew, fighting against hope to survive. But here she was the storm, and to allow that bird their freedom meant to quell her own flames.

How tired she was now. How she wanted to lay down her axe and rest, but not yet, not when their goal was so close, after all she’d been through, all she’d done. Some called her monster, some called her the beast of Enbarr. Others called her the Emperor’s lapdog - lapfox, more like it, the thought left as quickly as it arrived, her target, her friend bringing themself back to the forefront of her mind.

“…Do you think you can sing for me? One last song. One last request, from a friend. We never finished our lessons, you know - I can’t think of a better place for a curtain call.”

It was easy to see that the turmoil within herself wracked them as well. Turmoil, and conviction - this was the final battlefield, after all. Only one could walk away alive. A soft chuckle escaped her throat, and a tear - the first in a while, truthfully - graced her exhausted eyes with its presence. One clawed hand wiped it away before returning to her axe, grip tightening and fervor renewing.

“Of course not. How silly to ask, right? I figured it was worth a shot, though. A calm before the storm, you know? One last game to play. One last dance.”

Their hands gripped that spear tight, she noticed - it seems she’d exhausted her time to talk, and any chance of settling this peacefully.

“Enough is enough, I guess. Let’s go, Shigure.”

- ~ -

[Knives and Regret]

Today was the day. Awake bright and early, greeting the sun with a smile - Selkie had work to do. Chores first, of course - before the sun even woke from its slumber, before the blanket of the horizon was cast off to greet the day, the kitsune was already hard at work. 

The cooks were astounded at the kitchen - sparkling clean before they’d even begun to start with breakfast. Scarcely had they arrived was Selkie finished, another task crossed from her ever-growing list. 

The stables were next - they were the closest thing from here. The sun was finally peaking out from behind the skyline, an eye trained on the day’s happenings as the world began to wake. The horses and pegasi, of course, were already awake - and by the time morning had well and begun, each equine was taken care of - stalls cleaned, food refreshed, and taken on a short walk.

“I hate you! I hate you more than anything!”

A chair neglected to be pushed in nearly caused Selkie to crash - thankfully she was an expert at recovering her balance, and her mind jumped back to the present. Some students were so inconsiderate after their tea-time; she was going to have to talk to someone about that. She could have gotten hurt!

Tomas was grateful for the extra help in the library. Rearranging books, fixing a broken shelf, organizing returns from the past week, all finished and a kitsune sent off with a smile. 

“You should be sorry! I never want to see you again! And you can - you can tell daddy I said that! I’m never coming back!”

The market - one of the local merchants needed help setting up his stall. An accident with a spooked horse broke the poor man’s arm just a week prior, and Selkie had volunteered to help him set up shop every day. Technically, it was her fault, letting the horse free - it was only supposed to be a prank! - but she still felt bad, so here she was. There was a silver lining, of course, one she took full advantage of when she left.

Half off anything he was selling was a very good deal, and considering she was only buying flowers and a few minor trinkets, he graciously elected to stretch it to her full purchase, a benefit she was full glad to have. It couldn’t have worked out better if she’d planned it herself!

Now, the morning was almost gone, and with most of the students and faculty either at lunch or at the chapel, she had time to herself - and she was going to need it. 

“Selkie! Come back! Selkie! Selkie!”

Half an hour. Half an hour was how long it took - she couldn’t afford to take any more time, lest someone’s attention be called to her. Hopefully, no one visiting the graveyard would find it unusual - likely, their own grief would be too pressing to notice a small, makeshift stone, placed amidst the rose bush. 

Just behind a tree, tucked away in a little corner - a name is carved very neatly in a foreign language, one any native to Fodlan likely wouldn’t recognize. The kitsune sat as long as she could, until people started to return to the monastery - by the time anyone made it anywhere near the cemetery, it was as desolate and empty as ever.

“They… they invaded your deeprealm, you know. We don’t know when, after all the time that’s passed.

“…And?”

“I know you didn’t like her, but your caretaker… I’m sorry, Selkie.”

“…Can we give her a proper burial, daddy? Like the hamlet does?”

“Of course we can.”

Anyone who wasn’t looking would have missed the makeshift grave, if not for the flowers. A wreath, primarily made of morning glories, purple hyacinths, the occasional orange poppy and marigold. 

And a bouquet of lilies.

[ordinarytalk]

Forgot to post this yesterday - I went to the Stand Against Hate rally in Philly that was organized in response to the Jewish cemetery that was vandalized, Mount Carmel cemetery. The crowd was pretty decent for noon on a Thursday on short notice with little advertisement.

In addition to a lot of Jewish community leaders, there were leaders from multiple religions all there denouncing the hate crimes. Governor Wolf and Attorney General Shapiro spoke, too. Everyone made a point of thanking the Muslim community for their support and donations. A lot of people spoke about their grandparents’ or great-grandparents’ stories of escaping the Holocaust and being buried here, only to have their grave desecrated. One of the speakers described the life of a relative who was a veteran who fought for this country, and how it felt to see his gravestone kicked over.

The reward for information about the perpetrators is approaching $70,000.

[fridays--child]

Chapter 1 - But the darkness holds it all in: figures and flame, beasts and me.

Read on AO3 or Wattpad

After the hubris that followed the Industrial Revolution, scholars and civilians are terrified when a new plague epidemic steadily begins killing off not only their way of life, but their population. When Hedy Leander, a foreign volunteer medic gets posted at Morrigan’s Ranch, a rural farming-turned-resort town that’s one of the few unaffected, she’s expecting a reprieve from the death and disease that clings to the bigger cities. But as things become bleaker, the small community will have to learn what desperation to survive can do to not only to their idyllic existence, but to those they thought to rely on.

“No man is an island, entire of itself.

Each is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.

If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less…”

Hedy had never been a God-fearing woman. Even in her twelve years of Catholic school, her family had been too involved in science and rationality to believe in an eternal and all-knowing watcher, and church visits were mandated to weddings and funerals. But if there was a big guy up there, presiding over her every movement, after the past few days she highly doubted he’d mind too much if she let herself doze for a few moments.

Her Pa had died. After nearly seventy years in the service of medicine, he finally, quietly, gave in to the very disease he tried to cure. The same infection that was sweeping the country like the locust in Exodus. Or so he likened it to. She had cried all she needed to over her reluctant hero, the man who rarely showed paternal love, but showered her in accolades when she, in some form, began to follow in his career path. And though she felt an ache in her chest, in the dimly lit cathedral, with the air thick and sweet with smoke, it could be so easy to put a hand over her eyes and rest quietly. She had been awake for over twenty-four hours.

“Each man’s death diminishes me, for I am involved in mankind.

Therefore, send not to know

For whom the bell tolls,

It tolls for thee."

"Now, please rise for the final hymn.”

“Yes, he was too involved in mankind, the foolish old man,” Gran muttered filthily, as Hedy gently grabbed her elbow and helped the older woman stand. The tip of her ugly feathered hat hit Hedy’s face and obscured anyone behind her’s view. Hedy hoped the small lace veil she wore hid her blush. “He thought he could play God.”

“I think he just wanted to help.” Hedy responded, nodding politely when some of the other mourners turned around in response to the outburst. True or not, it was too soon to speak ill of the dead. “It was his life’s work, he couldn’t just sit by while this happened.”

“Yes he could of,” she retorted, grabbing her small handbag and rifling through it. The pall-bearers were gathering around to carry the empty casket to the cemetery. “He was too proud of his own intelligence, and too damn stupid to realise he couldn’t outsmart it.”

Hedy nodded, too worn to argue back. Though her Pa had only married her Gran in during her childhood, Hedy had learned early on there was no point taking Elenora Leander on. Her previous two husbands had testified to that.

“It was nice that they chose to honour him here, in the city.” Hedy changed tactics, walking along the green lawn of the adjoining cemetery to where his headstone now stood. Four feet high, the stone featured a winged man holding off a skeletal harbinger. A testimonial to the very arrogance Gran was bitter about.

“Though I guess it was nice that they had a ceremony at all.” Gran sniffed.

It was true, however unfortunate it seemed. The death that was occurring on mass across the company meant that funerals had lost any sense of rarity , any sense of closure. Everyone was mourning. There were no bodies to bury, the government decreed that any person who died from this plague, as well as their clothes and anything they came into contact with during their incubation, was to be burnt and then buried. Pa’s body would have been burnt a week ago, and buried in the mass grave they all pretended was not only a few miles out of the city’s gates. This funeral, with the casket and headstone, was a laughable luxury.

“I suppose this put you out of a job.” Gran retorted, pulling a small vial from her purse. Delicately, she let four drops fall onto her tongue, grimacing slightly as she swallowed. Hedy rounded on her, taking the small vial from her grasp.

“I was out a year before this happened,” she replied, taking a sniff of the concoction. She did not recognise the label on the bottle. “And what is this, Gran?”

“One of your Pa’s students gave this to me, said it would help my nerves today.”

Hedy popped a drop on the back of her hand, looking around to make sure no other funeral attendees were watching. Most had already begun to leave. There was to be no wake, no viewing, and no body to bury. She tentatively licked it off her gloves.

“Gran, this is nothing more than brandy with some lavender in it!” Hedy exclaimed, before licking her hand again. “And maybe some form of opiate.”

“Oh good,” Gran took the bottle back, taking a few more drops for good measure. She placed the small vial daintily back into her handbag and closed the clasp with a sharp snap. “I couldn’t very well bring out a flask, could I? The only thing worse than a drunk widow is a hysterical one.”

~

Goodbyes at the train station were a short affair. Despite having lived at Morrigan Ranch for the past twenty years, Gran had decided to live in the city, citing she was old and had nothing left at that ‘run down hick town.’ When Hedy had mentioned was worried about her on her own, she snorted. “Sweetheart, worrying is just something we do to feel busy.”

The train ride itself was uneventful. Morrigan’s Ranch was located three hours out from the city, far enough away to feel rural, but close enough for a weekend trip. Originally a small farming town, its rugged, wild beauty, and relative proximity to both the city, and a quaint coastline hotspot, had made it somewhat of a resort town in recent years. The rich and bored came there to experience living off the land, spending a weekend or two with their hands in the soil before they gleefully returned to their life of privilege. Why a woman like Elenora chose to live there in retirement, Hedy would never understand. But she had enjoyed her childhood trips when she was in the country there, where the livestock and people did not mind an overly curious child with the heavy accent bothering them. She hadn’t been there since she was freshly eighteen, and, despite being posted there for work, was looking forward to staying at a place that was, if fadingly, familiar.

The seven-mile trek between the station and Morrigan’s Ranch via carriage was, unfortunately, less pleasant. The weight of nearly forty hours awake was beginning to toll on Hedy, her head throbbing over every bump and ditch. Despite all her recent practice, she had never been a great traveller. The uneven swaying was threatening her to be ill all over her Sunday best and stupid, too small shoes. Cecil, Morrigan’s own preacher and the organiser of her volunteer unit, had apologized profusely. Cars were already a rarity, and, in this time too expensive for the average person to run. Morrigan’s Ranch only had one vehicle in working order, and it was currently in use. Hedy had waved his apology away, but now, groaning and resting her sick head between her legs, she could really curse whoever was selfish enough to take it away from her.

Sitting across from her, Declan blanched slightly at her green complexion. “If you throw up on me, princess, I will throw you from this carriage.” He had a shotgun casually strapped across his back, and unfortunate part of being an escort on the roads in recent months. Firearms had stopped alarming her a long time ago.

Hedy threw him up a hand gesture, swallowing hard at the saliva pooling in her mouth. “As if I haven’t cleaned you up more times than I can count.” When he chuckled, she continued. “Just please tell me we’re fucking close already.”

“We should be.”

In the encroaching darkness, the surrounding forest and shrubbery around Morrigan’s Ranch seemed more overgrown than it was seven years ago. Everything rustled and echoed through the branches, accentuated by the poor horse who was carrying their load’s heavy stomps as they approached the lights glowing in the distance. She could hear voices in the distance, brutal yet cautious, asking questions about their approaching carriage. If she hadn’t gotten used to feeling afraid, she would have been nervous right now. She saw Declan’s hand twitch towards his gun.

“Pull over.”

Their group was met with a small convoy of armed men and woman, their expressions in the dim light dark and questioning. The carriage driver agreed, and Hedy quickly slid out, glad to feel solid ground beneath her swollen feet. However, her relief was short lived, as one gripped her forearm, roughly taking her Pa’s medicine bag, one of her few prized possession, from her grasp. She could hear Declan arguing with another as they began to surround the carriage and began rummaging through the possessions of the other carriage riders. When no one responded, the same voice spoke again.

“Who are you?” She could hear another gun slowly being loaded and cocked.

“My name is Hedy Leander,” Hedy spat, trying to retrieve her medicine bag from out of her aggressor’s reach. She still hadn’t let go of her forearm. “Anton and Elenora’s granddaughter.”

No reply.

“I’m part of the medical team stationed here. If you give me my bag back, I can show you my pass and papers.”

The woman holding her arm looked up to the first voice.

“Samson?”

“Show me.”

Indignantly, Hedy snatched her bag back and quickly retrieved her papers. Beckoning for one of the men holding a lantern to come over, she at last could see where the demanding voice came from. His face was mostly obscured by long dark hair and a beard, with only the tips of his cheekbones and eyes visible in this light. Though she couldn’t see much more of him, or anyone surrounding him, she noticed he might be one of the few men that had been taller than her. He looked at her pass for a long moment, before handing it back. His voice was softer, but no less authoritative, than before.

“Where’s Cecil?”

“Dealing with border control. Trying to get our luggage through quarantine faster.” She shrugged. “I’m only allowed this bag because it’s got medical supplies.”

One of the other party members, a man who was wearing a wide-brimmed hat despite the night sky, stared inquisitively at the man named Samson. He nodded slightly.

“Okay, let’s get you in.”

Tensions slightly decreased, Declan and Hedy walked the remainder of the short trek by foot, with Hedy downright refusing to get on the now-spooked horse’s carriage again. The one with the hat spoke again.

“Sorry about the, uh, showdown there. We’ve had some issues with poachers recently.”

“I understand. I get why you have muscle here.” She motioned to Samson. Hat man chuckled.

“Hedy!”

As they approached the town hall, the only building illuminated by candles despite it being evening, a shrill yet excited voice called out. Hedy found herself in the arms of Moira, who had run to the convoy and promptly enveloped her with a kiss on the forehead. Though she had not known her long, Cecil’s young wife had always been kind, if slightly over-affectionate, to Hedy and the rest of her team.

“Are you alright, darling?” She held Hedy’s face in her hands.

“Yes, thank you Moira. Cecil did a lovely job today.”

“That’s sweet.” She linked arms with Hedy and bought her forward, into the building. “I apologize for the lack of a welcoming party. It must have been hard to find us here in the dark.”

“Do you have electricity here? I thought Gran said it was recently installed.”

Moira nodded. “We do, only in the town hall and a few of the homes who could afford it. It’s hit the skitz, but we only turn the generators on from 6-10pm each night, and then it’s all candlelight.”

Hedy nodded along, tuning out as Moira quickly explained how the village ran. It had been a damn long time since she had been here.

~

Ave moved as silently as she could, trying to use the wind and night sky to her advantage. Creeping towards the old shed next to the generator, she thought it was ironic that, until only a year or two ago, she was terrified of these forests and what lay in them. She had been raised around a campfire full of tales of wraits and folk in animal skins, who would trick and spirit away those who disturbed their peace. But there was nothing here to be scared of, she knew. The only scary thing out here were the men who tried to steal from them.

Finally reaching the shed, she quickly took a peek at the generator, before removing the loose glass in one of the windows and wriggling her way in. Ave had heard that poachers had been seen in the area scouting for food, and when their trusty generator had broken down a few days later, she could only assume they were the culprits. She had spent too much fucking time, covered in muck, growing those vegetables for them to be stolen by lazier men.

Ave didn’t have to wait long for her suspicions to be confirmed. Raising herself slightly, she peered through the shed window at the two men approaching. She couldn’t recognise either of them, and as they reached the generator, she knew they weren’t a welcome member of their little community.

“The idiots haven’t fixed this yet, think we’re still good?”

“Yeah, should be. You start here, I’ll check one of the other sheds. See where they stock their produce before we go for the livestock.”

Fingers nimble despite her building rage, Ave quickly tested the sharpness of her arrow before loading it into her bow. The poacher had disappeared, and she flattened herself against the wall, pressing her ear to the thin shield between them. She could hear him circle the shed, and as he rattled the knob of the long-broken door, she cocked her bow. Despite herself, she jumped and swore when a fist smashed through the window she had entered through and knocking over a ladder.

The poacher, hearing her, paused for a moment at her outburst. Ave bit her lip, praying that if she stopped breathing it would still her furiously beating heart. She was certain he could hear the violent rattle of it through the heavy silence. Curiously, he raised a lantern to the glassless window.

“What do we have here?”

She lined up a shot, hitting his shoulder.

“You fuck!” His hands reached for his holster at his hips, but she was much faster. Aiming blindly, she closed her eyes and hoped for impact.

Luck was on her side that day. Foolishly, she dared not open her eyes, but strained her ears as she heard him stumble, before a heavy weight hit the ground. Ave counted to sixty three times in silence, before tempting to move again.

She wasn’t sure how long he’d be incapacitated, and at this point, she did not want to find out. Moving as stealthily as she could, she eased herself through the now shattered window and pawed her way to his body. The lantern lay discarded, but it’s light spilled over the man’s spreadeagled body. Tentatively, she placed two fingers on the pulse point of his wrist, relieved yet sickly annoyed at the slow, steady thump that showed life. Moving quickly, she liberated him of his pistol, throwing her bow and arrows back through the window of the shed.  

Pulling the safety off with shaky fingers, Ave pointed the gun to the sky and pulled the trigger. Twice. Then she ran like all hell.

- - - - -

Notes:

Hi! Okay, so posting this is terrifying, but here it is in all it's rough, dirty, and unedited glory. I've had this story floating around my brain for about four years, and chronic illness has finally given me time to write it. I haven't written for fun in about 84 years, so hopefully it isn't fucking terrible. There's about 15 chapters planned so far, so there should be an update once a week.

- - - - - 

Credits: The title comes from 'Rilke’s Book Of Hours: Love Poems To God: The Book of the Monkish Life p. April 1905,' by Rainer Maria Rilke. The reading during the funeral is Meditation XVII Devotions upon Emergent Occasions,' by John Donne.

[annamearajamesblog]

Anna’s Blog Post

What course concepts did you see in action?

One of the concepts from class I saw in action was when we were working with the Philly Orchard Project. The techniques used to add trees in urban areas that we learned in class were used, but there was limited space for the trees. The process of how someone can apply to have a tree planted in front of their house was explained to us. I was concerned that the tree James helped plant would suffer from common urban stressers, but the people we were working with were incredibly experienced, and knew how to care for urban trees. The people from Philly Orchard Project were also using the trimming techniques we looked at in class for existing and new trees to make sure that they continued to grow healthily.

I saw the dangers of invasive species in action when working in the flower beds. The overgrown area left no room for the desired plants to properly grow, so we had to remove everything from all but one of the flower beds. What could have been established and growing plants for the community had all been harmed.

The one woman working with us in removing invasive species talked to us about her work on Native American reservations, and her explanation of symbolism in the land hit into our first topic of the course about the connections between people and the land. The ideas of stewardship in indigenous communities influenced her work and her organization of events in Philadelphia.

The soil and its connection to any organic material left on the surface was apparent when there was cardboard and other trash left out. Sometimes the garbage was filled with bugs and had interfered with soil filtration. The garbage also was impacting the creek in the park and the organisms the creek supports.

2. What did you do? – be very specific– include plant names, soil types, names of groups and individuals.

At the watershed pickup, we arrived and were broken up into groups to focus on different areas of the park. The Temple students, including the Fencing Team, were sent to work along the road while the tee-ball teams were sent to clean up around the fields. There was such an overwhelming turnout that some of the Temple students had to wait for the organizer to go get more supplies like trash bags, orange vests, and gloves. Once we were able to begin we moved along the sidewalk around the park picking up litter that was an eyesore for groups who use the park, and was harmful to the watershed. There were probably around 50 people there picking up trash which included small things like plastic cups and bags up to tires, shopping carts, and mattresses. After 2 hours of picking up trash, the group had collected over 1000 lbs of trash.

At the project organized by the Philly Orchard Project, there were not nearly as many people. James, Meara, and I showed up at the location and had a hard time finding anyone until we saw Peter who told us that him and his wife, Jean, were some of the organizers for the event. They took us to a small area that had been completely overgrown. The trees were being trimmed and cared for by Michael were mulberry trees that they were trying to preserve. The head gardener who Meara and I worked closely with was named Jasmine, and she explained to us that Historic Fair Hill was responsible for the area, and that they want to clean it up and make it into a community garden and put in in the hands of the community since Jasmine already cares for 6 other gardens in the city. The first flower bed in the space was filled with mint which was able to be salvaged, so we didn’t have to do much there, but the other flower beds were filled with invasive species, and Jasmine made sure that we were removing them by their roots so they didn’t return. We also cleaned up trash that had been thrown into the area. During this time was when James was planting a Juneberry tree with Jean and Peter.

3. What expectations did you have about your urban greening stewardship experience?

I was expecting more people at the second event like with the first event. The first event was packed and they had a lot of help, but at the second one they were so excited to have three extra people. There are probably a lot of similar events in the area that are in desperate need of more help. I was also expecting the processes to move faster. The work was very tedious at both events. It took a while, but by the end there was a noticeable difference which was very exciting.

4. How does this project or agency address community needs?

The event with the Philly Orchard Project understood the history of the community we were in which helped them address their needs. The area had been run by drug lords for years and was incredibly dangerous, but a neighborhood woman was able to help the community and they pushed out the drugs, but the area still has poverty and housing issues. The community gardens were an aim to help have a safe community space and provide produce in a food desert. There was also a historic cemetery that is at the community which is being kept beautiful which helps with tourism and economic activity in the area.

The watershed project wanted the tee-ball teams to have a clean field to play on and wanted the park to be a welcoming area for the rec center to be able to use.  

5. How can you educate others or raise awareness about this urban greening stewardship issue?

We had a great experience at the second event, and actually got the contact information for the head gardener so that we can share events with Historic Fair Hill with the Office of Sustainability and other Temple students. I would suggest working with these people again to anyone looking for volunteer activities, and we could also get a group of Temple students concerned about the environment together to work with Historic Fair Hill and the Philly Orchard Project.  

[shyscience]

Worshiping Hades

Here I’ve compiled a list of devotion and offerings to Hades, God of the Underworld and the Dead.

I tried not to include ideas and offerings that are widely known, like honey, libations, blood, ect. because there are plenty of other sources that can tell you these things. Here, I’m focusing on things I’ve learned in my relationship with Hades, and that I personally do, to hopefully give some ideas out to others.

I’ve also made a more general list for worshiping deities here. Some of those ideas overlap with this guide but here they’re more specific to Hades.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Long list of worship below the cut:

💀 Get personal

One of the main things about working with deities is that everyone’s relationship with them is different. There is no set, 100% right way to worship a god or goddess, so don’t be afraid to try new things. Think outside the box, no one wants to just do the same exact things as the next guy, right? That being said, this gets easier the more your relationship builds. Don’t feel pressured to find a completely new and unique way to worship, especially not right off that bat. Simple things work just as well.

Like, finding things your god likes that isn’t in the history books. For me, Hades, I've found, is fond of blueberries. That, as far as I know, is not historical. But he seems to like it whenever I give him raw blueberries or ones covered in dark chocolate (another found favorite of his).

💀 Don’t forget epithets!

You would be shocked at how much you can learn about a deity just from some old nicknames. I advice you to go look some up, and not only use them when addressing the deity in question, but really take the time to learn more about ones you find interesting.

Most people know Hades as the King of the Underworld. After more research people find he is also a god of wealth, earth fertility and minerals, curses, funeral rites, shades, dreams, and necromancy. He has titles such as “of good counsel” and “One who binds all equally”, meaning he is impartial, fair, and brings justice.

💀 Colors. Colors! Colors! 

This is really more important than you’d think and can make worshiping subtly and/or quickly a breeze. For example, you want to show Hades you’re thinking of him? Wear black!

You can even do this with makeup, but maybe you don’t want to do a super dramatic, black smokey eye, that’s alright! Hades is an earth deity, meaning he loves neutrals, browns, tans, greens, ect. You can do a natural eye look or throw some nudes on and he’ll appreciate it all the same.

Also, if you think Hades, King of the Underworld and Warden of Shades, won’t appreciate you putting on some black nail polish in his name then you are very wrong because he will love it.

💀 Dogs

Dogs are sacred to Hades because of Cerberus, his faithful, underworld guard dog. As such, an easy and inconspicuous way to honor Hades would be spend time with dogs, whether they be yours or someone else’s (with their permission of course). 

💀 Flowers and Plants

Like I said, Hades is a god of the earth. He was often depicted holding a cornucopia filled with grain. This being said, I associate plants and flowers with him.

I have several plants in my room that I take care of, which I refer to “my Hades plants” because I’ve devoted them to him.

I also heavily think of flowers with him, often putting flowers on his alter and letting them die there (thus incorporating his earth aspect and death aspect). A lot of the time I don’t even have to pick any flowers, often times I’ll find a flower that is already picked so there is no harm in taking it, or I just buy some.

💀 Driving by Graveyards

There’s this old superstition that says you should hold your breath while going past cemeteries. Some say it’s to keep evil spirits from entering you, some say it’s so you don’t disrupt the dead’s sleep, and some say it’s disrespectful to the passed since they can no longer breathe. I’ve taken this old wives’ tale and incorporated it in honoring Hades. What I do is hold my breath while passing graveyards, I use the symbolism of respect in this tale and pass it on to Hades, often addressing him mentally as I do so.

💀 Collect Coins

As a god of wealth and god of the underworld, where souls would have to pay a coin fee to get in, financial worship is always an option. This doesn’t mean you have to literally give Hades money though. I keep all my loose change and put it on his alter, then after all the containers are full, I take it to the bank and put it in my saving. And no, Hades doesn’t mind me taking the coins off his alter, because he knows I’m using them wisely and am just making room to start all over in collecting them.

I’ve found that since I’ve been doing this I find spare coins more often, which I always thank him for and put with the others on his alter.

💀 Perfumes

In order to have a quick and easy way to have Hades with me throughout the day, I’ve devoted certain perfumes I have to him. A quick spritz and not only are you smelling good for the day, but you show Hades you’re thinking of him.

💀 Reading

And I don’t mean just reading the myths, though that’s a good idea too. I mean read things that simply reminds you of him. You might pick up something by Poe or listen to some horror stories online. Maybe “The Lord of the Flies” or “The Book Thief”, anything really, that you think he’d enjoy. 

If you’re not sure, Ancient Greek stories like The Iliad or The Odyssey are always an option. And the great thing about those sorts of things is Hades is actually mentioned in them so you can see how the Greeks of old viewed him and death.

Don’t forget to annotate and take notes!

💀 Art and Writing

This can range from looking at art to making art yourself. I have a sketch book I’ve dedicated to just devotional drawings to deities, mostly Hades. I often draw Hades as I see him, but also things associated with him like skulls, caves, pomegranates, ect.

Something I’ve done personally is made ancient Greek OCs (Original Characters). So far I only have a priestess of Hades, and just recently made a priestess for Aphrodite as well. Sometimes I’ll draw them as a devotional act. It’s a good way to research and learn more about how the ancients worshiped the different gods, while also getting creative.

Also, I know a lot of pagans also have a ‘witchsona’, which is similar to what I’ve done. I’ve made a persona type version of myself that is nymph-like, more specifically like a Lampad (underworld nymph), or spirit, which I often draw with Hades or just in the underworld.

💀 Devote a Journal

If you’re feeling especially close to a certain deity, consider having a journal or some other type of book where you write strictly about that god or goddess. A lot of pagans have a BOS or something similar, but this is something more personal to whichever god or goddess you’re doing it for.

I did this with Hades and he adores it. I bought a Dark Brotherhood (Skyrim) inspired journal and I use it to write all about Hades, including information, myths, personal things about our relationship, ect. It’s a good place for me to keep all my collected information about him without cramming my normal BOS full and so I’ll have all the information together for much easier, faster access.

I also put personal divination readings about our relationship in there, our conversations, and things I’ve written for him like hymns or poems.

💀 Music

It’s not uncommon for pagans to make playlists for certain deities, and I am no exception. Consider making your own to either play when worshiping or just to listen to when you feel like connecting to Hades casually.

My Hades can be found here, if you’re interested :)

💀 History

As a god of the dead, I think Hades especially loves history. It is him, after all, that takes in all the souls of fallen soldiers and political leaders. Every person of grand or small importance comes to his doorstep eventually, all bringing with them their stories. History ‘lives’ in his realm because everyone who is there was once part of it. 

💀 Food Offerings to Chthonic Deities

I’d like to remind everyone that offerings to chthonic deities are to be given in whole. As in, where with most other gods, you are allowed to eat some or all of food offerings given, do not do this with chthonic deities. You give them the entire offering. However, that’s not to say if you bake a cake you have to give them the whole thing. In fact, all you have to do is cut a piece and give that piece as an offering, not the entire cake. 

The way I look at it, offerings and devoting are not one in the same. For example, if I bake Hades a cookie, I’ll give him the entire cookie and won’t take a bite. However, maybe I’ll make myself a pomegranate based smoothie and drink it. I didn’t offer the smoothie to Hades, I just used ingredients associated with him as a way to show I’m thinking about him, a devotion. 

So remember, give the entire offering to chthonic deities, but that doesn’t mean you can’t devote a meal/food you’re eating to them either.

💀 Donating and Volunteering

While not everyone can donate their money or their time, if they can, it would mean a lot. Hades, the god of wealth, would see you giving some of your money to help someone who needs it more. Hades, the god of the dead, would love seeing you using your limited time on earth to bring joy to others. 

Ideas for donating or volunteering:

Suicide Prevention

Help families pay for funeral rites and a proper burial/cremation/ect.

Save wilderness

Help clean up a graveyard

The protection of nocturnal animals or animals sacred to Hades like owls (screech owls), dogs, black animals, ect.

Volunteer to pick up trash and litter

💀 Remembering the Dead

Remembering the passed, especially your ancestors and loved ones, can be very powerful. Honoring them with your memory or even giving them offerings can, in turn, also be a devotion to Hades. 

In fact, the ancient Greeks believed remembering the dead was very, very important for the soul of that person. Looking back at many ancient Greek tombstones, you’ll see depictions of normal, everyday actions preformed by that deceased person. They did this because they believed that if the living remembered that person, their spirit was not just lost among the countless other dead and in some cases thought this helped the shade remember who they were on earth and/or ‘live’ a peaceful life in the underworld.

Proper funeral rites were also very important in ancient Greece and in many instances, fighting soldiers gave back the corpses of their enemy’s fallen so they could have a rightful send off to Hades. If someone wasn’t given a proper burial or cremation, people feared that person would not be allowed into Hades and their ghost would come back and haunt the family until given proper funeral rites.

💀 My Personal Associations

These are a few things that remind me of Hades or that I’ve just found he likes. These, as far as I know, have no basis in historical or mythological fact. He does enjoy them all the same, though:

Unsweetened Tea and Green Tea (including the scent, which I have incense of to cleanse his alter)

Blueberries

Dark Chocolate or chocolate coins

Flowers (especially carnations and roses. Carnations are a very personal association based on deaths in my life)

Eucalyptus (I use a Eucalyptus [and ginger] bath scrub for ritual baths devoted to Hades)

Mirrors (my alter to Hades is on a vanity and the symbolism that mirrors are windows to another world, sort of like the underworld)

Dark coffees

Clocks, pocket watches, ect. (the symbolism of time)

Green, especially when paired with pink. I see the green as Hades and pink as Aphrodite, the two deities in my life right now

Mental Health (at least for me, he helps and cares)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is in no way a complete list, but I hope it gives some people some ideas or inspiration in their worship! Remember, everyone’s relationship is different, so you are in no way expected to do all or any of the things listed here, this is just a little peak into how I do it. 

I’ll likely add more to this list in the future or even make others! 

[tialovestelevision]

All the Way

Maybe this episode won’t be about how overwhelmed Buffy is? Please?

1. Previously On, then Halloween at the Magic Box. Xander is a pirate. He’s going arrr. And selling fireflies. From a volcano. He looks stupid. Giles asks him for help. Anya is one of Charlie’s Angels. Dawn doesn’t have a costume. That makes Anya sad. On the other hand, she gets to have sex with Xander after work. Tara rescues Dawn from that conversation by sending her to help Willow with the magical texts. Anya asks Tara if she’s played Shiver me Timbers, and Tara says she’s not much for timber. Willow is telling someone dressed as a witch to rethink the stereotype. Dawn joins her at the books. There is an adorable tiny witch who wants candy corn. Dawn sees a large coin or medallion or doubloon on the tale and palms it. Anya sends Buffy to check the basement for mandrake root; Buffy says not to blame her if there’s a time loop. Buffy runs into Spike in the basement. He’s running low on berber weed for spicing his blood. He wants to steal some. She’s doing this to help out. Spike knows where the mandrake root is. If you pack them too tight, they get weird. He asks if she wants to patrol; she thinks he’s suggesting sex and turns both down. Spike is going to watch “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.” Buffy goes back upstairs. Anya sends her to help Giles. Giles is in a wizard costume. He sent Xander away in hopes of Xander ending up in a universe that has a 50-foot pirate-squashing Giles. Buffy wants to go patrolling, but it’s Halloween, so nothing's happening. She has to bag things.

2. An old man is walking around humming “Pop Goes the Weasel.” He has a grocery bag. He goes into a house. There’s a toy carousel and a hat rack. And taxidermy. And a pot full of something cooking. He goes to look out the window at the children out trick or treating. He says he’ll give them something special this year and gets a big sharp knife out. Opening credits no Tara.

3. Everyone is exhausted after a long day. Except Anya. She’s grateful. She’s doing a post-holiday clearance. Buffy does not want to work tomorrow. Giles is offering brooms all around. Willow suggests a Fantasia-style self-cleaning incantation. Giles points out the obvious - that in Fantasia, that was a disaster. Dawn and Anya are doing the Money Dance, which is even better than Numfar’s Dance of Joy. Xander is staring. Xander says he’s going to marry that girl. He’s announcing their engagement. Dawn is happy. Tara is happy for them too. Willow is disbelieving. Anya says she thought he was waiting for the right moment. He says he did. Then they kiss. Anya is still holding the money. She tosses it to Dawn and they keep kissing. Giles doesn’t want to think about this. Buffy: Is that why you’re always cleaning your glasses? So you don’t have to see what they’re doing?” Giles: “Tell no one.” Heh. Buffy says they have to do something. So now they’re having a party. Anya wants a party. Willow uses magic to decorate. Tara seems nervous, but Anya is happy. Giles also looks nervous. Tara and Willow are in the kitchen. Tara is telling Willow that she’d have preferred to decorate naturally. They’re having an argument. Apparently Tara hasn’t liked how much magic Willow’s doing for a while. Dawn sees them arguing. Then we go to Xander and Buffy hugging. Buffy is surprised that he’s getting married. Dawn wants a tattoo; Willow and Buffy have both told her no. I love Anya’s earrings. Dawn is going to sleep over at Janice’s. Buffy is suddenly worried about that. Buffy tries to foist the decision off on Giles, but he doesn’t take it. Buffy lets her go. Dawn is roaming the streets instead of going to Janice’s. She hears a bottle rattling. She gets a giant board. Finds two people making out, then runs into Janice. Janice, who has told her mother she’s staying at Dawn’s house. I think it’s time to move to another entry.

4. They’re all meeting at the park, where the monsters gather on Halloween. There’s a few guys there. One is Zack, who is apparently dating Janice. Justin is there too; Dawn’s seen him at parties. Crush there, apparently. Janice asks what the guys want to do. Then they go egging houses and letting air out of tires. Dawn likes Justin a lot. Justin thinks Dawn is cute. Janice says she’s getting bored. Zack wants to hit one more house.

5. Giles sits next to Xander and tells him that Anya is a wonderful former vengeance demon and that they’ll have years of non-hell-dimension bliss. He asks if she’s moving in with Xander. Of course, she’s already moved in with Xander. He suggests they look at buying a house. Future talk is making Xander nervous.

6. Zack has focused on Old Man Kaltenbach’s house. This is probably a bad thing. Dawn thinks he’s crazy. Zack encourages Janice to go smash Kaltenbach’s pumpkin; Janice won’t, but Dawn says she will. Justin says she doesn’t have to. She says she wants to. She strides toward the house. Lifts the pumpkin. The door opens behind her. Kaltenbach grabs her and tells her that sometimes pumpkins bite. The pumpkin falls to the ground and breaks. Then Kaltenbach invites them inside. “Daddy’s got a treat.” Zack thinks this is cool; Janice is terrified. Now they’re inside. Zack is playing with a toy robot. Kaltenbach is an old toymaker. Why am I thinking about The Seventh Guest now? Kaltenbach says he was the best. “And then that thing happened. One little mistake, and they took it all away from me. They took my toys. Time for the treats!” He asks who wants to help in the kitchen. Justin volunteers. Kaltenbach says he could always use more hands. Janice really wants to run. I’m with her, though that would leave Justin behind. Zack doesn’t want to miss the treat. Dawn’s ready to go too. Zack was playing with a jack in the box, and it has no head.

7. Justin and Kaltenbach in the kitchen. Kaltenbach grabs a large knife. And Justin is a vampire. He’s eating Kaltenbach. The treats are Rice Crispie Treats. Dawn runs off to check on Justin. Justin comes out of the kitchen and tells them to run because he swiped Kaltenbach’s wallet while he wasn’t looking. Oh, Zack is a vampire too. They’re deciding whether to just eat the girls or turn them.

8. Anya is talking about wedding plans. Xander is getting more and more nervous. She brought up babies. Xander looks terrified. Giles suggests naming babies after himself. Anya dismisses that. Anya is very happy. Xander and Buffy step outside. Xander’s going to express his nervousness to Buffy. Buffy says this is good - love and celebration and moving forward. The way life’s supposed to work out. Xander says he’s wallowing, not drowning. Buffy’s going to go patrolling; Xander’s going back to the party.

9. Justin and Dawn are walking and talking. He gives her some money from the wallet. She tells him she steals all the time. He likes that. He gives her his jacket. Janice asks where Zack is. Zack is eating people and taking their car.

10. Buffy is walking around, looking for trouble. Or anything. Watching couples. Families. Ambulance goes past; Buffy goes to check on it. Vampire victim; she’s alive. I think she was the driver of the car.

11. Janice’s mother has called the Summers house, and Giles answers. She’s chewing Giles out. He says he’ll let her know if he hears from the girls.

12. Xander, Anya, and Willow are dancing while Tara looks on very sadly. Giles turns the music off. Giles asks Xander and Anya to stick around the house in case there’s a call, Willow and Tara to check downtown, and he’s going to Spike’s place.

13. Janice, Dawn, Zack, and Justin get out of the car. Janice kisses Zack and runs off; Zack puts his game face on to chase her. Dawn and Justin are in the car. Justin says cold doesn’t bother him. They flirt. They get the radio going. Dawn is cold. Justin asks if she wants to go. He says he just wants to taste her. They start to kiss.

14. More kissing. Dawn seems to have enjoyed it. Dawn is stumbling around talking about it. They kiss some more.

15. Now we’re at the Bronze. With a concert. How did we get here? Willow and Tara are here. They’re being flirty and sweet again. There’s too many people in the room. Willow looks over it and starts a spell. Tara tells her not to cast the spell. The spell does sound kinda awful. Willow silences the room. Now they’re arguing again. Tara says that Willow is using too much magic. Willow says something mean; Tara storms off.

16. More Dawn/Justin kissing. He bit her lip. They go back to kissing. More kissing. She’s running her hand on his chest, his neck, his face… his game face is on.

17. Buffy is at Spike’s place. Spike told her about Dawn disappearing. Giles falls over while searching the cemetery. He hears a girl screaming and starts jogging. He finds Janice and Zack. Punches Zack off her. Starts to fight Zack. Giles is actually making a show of himself… and uses a tree to stake Zack.

18. Dawn is getting out of the car. Justin is asking her to wait. He thought they could hang out. She’s not like other girls. He wants to be close to her. He says it’ll only hurt for a second. Giles found them. Then a bunch of cars pull up and vampires get out while Giles is threatening Justin. Giles is rather surrounded… Spike shows up, and so does Buffy, who asks Dawn if she was parking with a vampire. Neither Buffy nor Dawn wants to hear from Justin. The vampires want to fight. Buffy asks if anyone came here to make out; one couple raises their hands. Buffy tells them to run, then tells the vampires to scream. Now we get an action scene. Buffy nonchalantly stakes a vampire. Dawn fights off Justin. Giles stakes two vampires. Spike is having trouble with a vampire. “What is your malfunction, man?” “It’s Halloween, you nit. We take the night off. Those are the rules.” The vampire says they’re rebels. Spike: “No. I’m a rebel. You’re an idiot.” Then he shoots the vampire with a crossbow. Another vampire tackles him. Buffy is fighting a vampire on the hood of a car. This is going badly… well, it was. And is again. Buffy hits him with the car door. Then decapitates him with the car door. Dawn is in the woods, trying to escape. Justin comes in behind her. Tackles her, pins her down. Dawn gets teary, says she thought he really liked her. He says he does, and that she likes him too. She says she does, then she stakes him.

19. Buffy is apologizing to Xander about the party. Anya wants strippers. Spike leaves. Willow tries to talk to Tara, but Tara goes to bed. Buffy checks on Giles’s face. Buffy hands dealing with Dawn off to Giles and rushes off upstairs. Giles goes into the dining room to talk to Dawn. “We need to have a conversation.” Dawn: “Is this the part where you tell me you’re not angry, just disappointed?” Giles: “Pretty much. Except for the bit about not being angry.” Willow and Tara in the bedroom. Tara wants to not have this conversation now. She goes to bed, suggesting they forget it ever happened. Willow takes a flower from an incense burner and says “Forget.” Then she joins Tara in bed. Tara is giggling about cold feet. So… she forgot. Gods, Willow. Episode end.

Overall: Well, it wasn’t about Buffy being overwhelmed! Mostly. It was about Xander’s fear of the future, Dawn being a mess of a human being, magic suddenly being a problem for Willow to use, Willow using it to erase her girlfriend’s memory, and… well, yeah.

I don’t really think a lot of this season’s narrative threads hold together. Willow’s magic is a marvel in seasons 2 and 3, a metaphor for lesbianism in seasons 4 and 5, and now it’s… drugs? Or addictive, corrupting power? I don’t know. We’re being told it’s wrong for Buffy to hand off responsibilities to those around her, but those responsibilities aren’t hers to begin with - she died and her story finished - and she’s constantly showing signs of being overwhelmed by the list of responsibilities she has. Handing things off is responsible, and if she’s picking the wrong things to hand off… well, she’s not really getting help on the whole delegating thing. If Xander has a reason for his issues with marriage (like, say, worry about becoming like his horrible, abusive father), the show really needs to point that out at some point. Otherwise, I basically have to assume they’re doing Generic Male Character Plot #8.

The next episode is the musical. It has Hinton Battle! He’s won 3 Tony Awards for Featured Actor in a Musical! He played the Scarecrow in “The Wiz!” He choreographed a musical based on Evil Dead! He’s Hinton Battle!

If anyone can save us from this season, Hinton Battle can.

[memorylang]

Mothers’ Day, Driving and Sound | #53 | May 2021

May was been great, hectic. Pentecost, the Judeo-Christian holiday some 5O days from Easter and Passover—this year from May 23, 2O2I—led to monumental shifts in what’s been up with me. So, while we’ve gone back into the Church’s Ordinal Time now, I’ll focus this time on that Easter chunk of May. Tales include my first adventures of licensed Vegas driving, followed by experiences on and before Mothers’ Day 2O2I.

Month of Feels

While in Reno on April’s second-to-last Friday (my last before Vegas), I discovered that Evan Call's original soundtrack to 《Violet Evergarden》 was on Spotify. This delighted me immensely because I’ve for years listened to people’s covers of the soundtrack. The originals hadn't been available.

Back during my last semester of interpersonal group therapy in spring 2OI8, a handful of peers had recommended I see 《Violet Evergarden》 for it helped them to better empathize with others. (I'd gone to counseling to better figure out how to communicate my Catholic feelings about grief.) I went back to China that summer for my second time. Then, during my first weekend after my college junior year classes had begun, I finally watched the Netflix series. That was nearly a year and a half since Mom died.

I loved how the show, through its characters, narrative, settings and score capture so many aspects of grief, displacement, inspiration and comfort. Now in 2O2I, I found that I could listen to its entire score. Tracks that particularly resonated this time with me were “Across the Violet Sky,” “Birth of a Legend” and “Another Sunny Day.” Music guides me to meditations. To my surprise, that last song's title resembles "Another Day of Sun”—another song I deeply enjoy. Mom had called me a ‘sunny’ boy.

To Vegas’ Roads

May 1, 2O2I had my first time driving to and beyond downtown Vegas. My family's house has been on the valley's north side.

My older brother and his girlfriend were the only others living at the house besides me. Since they had activities that Saturday, I'd for the first time drive the family’s ol’ Dodge Ram that accompanied us all the way from Indiana.

Dad had in his usual somewhat joking but actually serious way suggested that I could drive the pick-up around town. Dad had hardly used it, so over the years, strangers have placed offers to buy it. He wouldn’t sell. My using it would probably justify his keeping it, anyway.

While I see trucks more as gas-guzzlers, which don’t jive well with my environmentalist tendencies, I appreciated that Dad let me borrow it regardless. I don’t like driving vehicles that lend themselves to considerably negative environmental impacts. Still, a ride’s a ride.

That Saturday, I was to meet from the Southern Nevada National Peace Corps Association a fellow Returned Peace Corps Volunteer (RPCV) and his family at the Las Vegas Wash Green-Up. Despite having lived in Vegas 2OO8–I5 and again in 2O2O, I marveled at having never heard of the Wash. That said, it’s quite a ways south.

In bygone days, my late ma would have driven me to service events similar to the Green-Up if I couldn’t carpool with Kiwanis Key Club friends. Well, I hadn't read that other RPCVs would from the north. So, I hoped driving in this case would least harm the environment.

Sights and Sounds Known

From the house for my day’s trip, I first looked up a Google Maps itinerary that could get me to a shopping plaza in the north and then down to the valley's southeast side. So, on my Surface, I plotted my route, copied the web address, messaged it to myself, found by our house's door the truck’s keys, came outside, unlocked the weighty vehicle, lugged open the driver’s door, clambered in and on my phone booted up the route.

I’ve driven different vehicles over past months and years, training with friends and family. So, I began my familiar routine of buckling up, adjusting the mirrors, making my seat comfortable. When driving alone, I also tap my phone’s Spotify app and start my “Recent Wonders” playlist or another.

The playlist reminds me a bit of my MP3 player habits when I was younger. I used to have to manually pick tracks from my computer’s library to download to my portable player. Since undergrad, though, I’ve had this Spotify playlist I shuffle for about the same purpose. My rotating set usually has between 15O and 25O songs. I prefer under about 18O. 《Violet Evergarden》 tracks comprise a good chunk of the newest.

Maps and playlist ready, I powered on the mighty truck and lurched it forward. As the high vehicle entered the street, I imagined Dad saying something annoying like, it’s a great vehicle for picking up chicks. Sure, it’s certainly spacious, but I prefer modest rides. If my vehicle were to make a statement, I’d rather it concern the planet not status. Still, I work with what we have.

Familiarly, I drove the streets I’d trained on three months earlier to secure my driver’s license. While the truck was the largest thing I’d driven here, roads’ rules were the same. I brought the truck to 24 miles per hour except when stop signs appeared. I piloted from the neighborhood to the main road, where I brought our speed to 33. Then I began north toward the shopping center along streets I’d walked with in middle school.

Arriving, I located the Bed, Bath & Beyond parking lot. Two of my former Residence Hall Association coworkers, including one whose FarmHouse fraternity brother I had become, would wed this May. So, I’d ordered an item from their gift registry to pick up. Afer sitting in Vegas heat, a woman brought me the gift. Success!

Across the Vegas Valley

Gift in possession, I powered back on the truck to begin my first road trip across the Vegas valley. I’d decided against taking freeways, since I figured proverbially that I’d better know how to walk before I run. Besides, Ma hadn’t liked highways. She’d traveled Vegas fine. So, I opted for major side streets.

I regretted avoiding freeways. Perhaps a dozen signal lights in, I realized that much of the trip felt more “stop” than “go.” I sorely underestimated how few roads let me bring the speed up to 44 mph. 35 zones seemed far more the norm.

Yet, I found the southbound view of Boulder Highway breathtaking. I hadn’t foreseen this urban desert’s beauty. The long road showcased the valley flora's summer embrace. I recalled a similar ride 'round Reno with a close college friend before we’d graduated. While I still resolved today to try the freeway back, my journey felt worthwhile.

Environmentalism For Earth Day

As I steered left off the highway nearing the Vegas Wash, its immensity awed me. I slowed the truck as I neared the parking area. With luck, I backed the truck into a spacious place near trees.

I donned the white Panamá-looking hat from my Mongol host family, hopped out and walked to tents where volunteers looked ready to sign folks in. I picked up and put on branded swag like blue planting gloves, a black face mask and a clear clip-on hand sanitizer. I then followed a dirt trail along the Wash. I was wearing too my ol' hiking shoes Mom had bought me mid-way through my college freshman year. To my surprise, the still fit!

I emerged soon where folks were taking potted shrubberies to flag-marked holes. There my RPCV friend found me. This was our first in person meet-up, so I felt surprised how easily he recognized me. He introduced me to his Kyrgyz wife and one of their kids who’d come to serve too. My friend's daughter was sick at home, but this was his son. We chatted a bit about fermented mare's milk, a drink common to both Kyrgyz and Mongols!

I asked him about the service project. He shared how these projects happen here annually. The flowers and shrubs we'd plant would help filter the Wash. I remembered my Key Club and CKI days and felt amazed that our clubs hadn’t participated. Still, as an RPCV, I found that my love of service remained. I carried plants back and forth, burying them throughout the grid.

After we concluded planting, we returned to check-in. Jimmy John’s to-go boxes awaited us volunteers. I walked with my friend to his vehicle, and we wished each other well. I strolled back to the Wash.

A roadrunner stood on a short cement wall by the water. Then it hopped off and disappeared. So, I hopped up, sat down and removed my visor, face mask and gloves. I like nature. I enjoyed the Wash, my chips and a sandwich.

I felt both stronger and vulnerable. When I finished here, no one would come get me. I got to choose when and how I'd head home. So, mistakes were on me, too.

I didn’t like heat much. I finished my food, saved the cookie and walked back to the truck. Heading back before I tired would keep me safer for my hour-long journey home.

“What If I?”

As I drove back toward Boulder Highway, a new thought came: What if I turned left instead of right?

I could visit Mom's grave. She was buried in the Southern Nevada Veterans Memorial Cemetery half an hour south. Dad hadn’t replied whether we’d visit it the Saturday after, being the fourth anniversary of Mom’s passing. I felt a twinge to go now.

But my phone had already lost half its battery. I’d had it on the hour-long drive to reach here. I wanted to still have Maps to help me navigate, as I would soon take on my first valley-wide freeways.

When two desert roads diverged, I took the one I’d traveled by.

Then freeway traffic sucked. But I think I still made better time. There was the difference.

Vegas and Mothers' Day

The next day, which was the Sunday before Mothers’ Day 2O2I, I took back up the task of sorting Mom’s former belongings. My pa had wanted me to organize the room where he’d been letting me stay in the Vegas house, too. Part of organizing that room meant I’d need to move out my mother’s clothes that siblings and I saved. Last spring’s garage clean-up led me to know that we had both plenty of space and large containers. While I worked, I listened to 《Violet Evergarden》 tracks.

Sight and Touch

On one of my sister Becky's visits, she and I ventured into Mom's closet to box and bag Mom's clothes to send to our stepmother’s family in the Philippines or donate. Working with Tita later, I'd identified some to keep. I hung those in the closet of the Vegas room where I was staying.

We'd kept clothes that were either extremely familiar, like her lavender and mauve ones, or rather unique, like suits and Chinese attire. Many of these clothes, I hadn't known Mom had. Not until after her death had I seen these dresses and sweaters. I wondered when she’d last worn them, in what stages of life. She must have liked them enough to have kept them all these years.

In my room, I unhooked Mom’s clothes from the closet and laid them in a large grey plastic bin with a green lid. Its shape reminded me of a coffin, though this was smaller, more rectangular and less imposing. I tried pushing away the coffin thought.

I laid in Mom’s clothes by Marie Kondo’s method, according to thickness. Thus, “最后的，最厚的” /zuìhòu de, zuì hòu de/, the furthest back, the thickest. I placed Mom's Chinese traditional clothes closest to the surface. I supposed that if any of us sought her clothes, perhaps we’d want to see those first.

I was placing the last of Mom's clothes, white and green silk, when I stopped suddenly.

Patterning looked familiar. I turned back to the closet, to its right half where I kept my clothes. I found my Chinese-style shirt I'd purchased in 北京 Běijīng 2OI7. I took my black and red shirt and laid it beside Mom's Chinese clothing.

The patterns similarly repeated stitched dragons and fish on shimmering silk.

Perhaps these were common patterns. But the coincidence felt uncanny. In China after Mom died, I’d made my purchase for thinking the shirt I found looked cool. Now I wondered, had Mom influenced what drew me to choose mine? For had she been there in person, perhaps she'd have recommended the same.

I exhaled a shaky breath. The shirt I'd bought resembled ones I didn't know my mom wore and kept.

“Across the Violet Sky” was playing—an emotional sound.

Mom was with me perhaps.

Sandals, Years Later

On the Thursday that preceded my drive to Saturday’s service event, I needed to get shopping done.

Older Brother wasn’t busy, so he drove me to the North 5th plaza our family had frequented when we were in junior high and high school. Pops now wanted me to replace my plaid slippers, and I’d also noticed my black sandals getting slick on smooth floors. If I went back to Mongolia, I’d need better wear. Ross tended to be my first choice.

Entering with Brother, I recalled that spring 2OI7 trip when Mom took me to this very store before I left for China. Back then, luggage, shoes and sandals were along the right wall. Now they were along the left. We hadn’t needed to sanitize our hands back then, either. But it’s good practice.

A new thought struck me as I tried on sandals. I’d come to replace the very pair that Mom had bought me in this very store. They’d lasted me all these years, back and forth to China and Asia.

Earlier that week, on the Tuesday when I’d leave Reno, I felt amused. I was telling my pastor after we taped the Proclamation how I’d fly to Vegas that night. He mused how they’d need to find someone to fill my sandals.

I prefer sandals to shoes when the weather’s nice. “They’re comfy and easy to wear.” As an inside joke, because our Proclamation recordings don’t tend to show our feet or much below our waists, viewers don’t tend to see whether we’re totally dressed for Sunday Mass. When permissible, I even prefer walking barefoot!

Anyway, I realized on this seemingly mundane Ross trip to find slippers (which I ultimately ordered online) that I’d returned to the same place to replace sandals Mom got me for my first overseas trip.

Having had a long day, I spent some time that evening while finishing my April 2O2I blog story browsing the web. A particular article caught my eye noting how people can visit dozens of real places from the film, “La La Land.” I felt surprised to think that people can actually swing by the film’s iconic locales. I loved that movie.

Coincidences

The day after sorting Mom’s clothes, Monday, my sister Becky messaged me if I or our siblings would come to L.A. for her graduation. It’d be the next Saturday, May 15. I didn’t conflict with any other graduation events that I’d sought to attend. So, I offered to fly in to visit.

Writing of L.A., I also remembered a friend to whom I’d been talking had said she was living there. The evening of after I stowed Mom's clothes, we’d reconnected for the first time in months. In fact, we'd be chatting over video later that night. I let my friend know that I’d be in the city and asked if she recommended places to see.

My friend suggested Hollywood.

Then I remembered—that “LA LA LAND” ARTICLE!

I also realized in that moment that the film's title contains “L.A.” three times. I doubt that that was a coincidence.

Anyway, I felt super stoked for the trip. Not only could I see my sister and my friend—I could see where filmmakers taped my all-time favorite film.

Final Vaccination

Knowing I'd be off to L.A. made receiving my second Pfizer dose against COVID-I9 more exciting. Two days after making arrangements with my sister came Wednesday, Cinco de Mayo. I’d scheduled from Reno to get my last dose in Vegas.

Brother was busy, so I drove again the pick-up. My appointment at one of the College of Southern Nevada campuses. While my pastor had taken me to my Reno appointment, I was on my own today.

Campus didn’t have many signs to indicate where to go. I asked a woman behind a desk, and she told me which way to head outside to find the site. Sprinting to make up lost time, I arrived and showed my verification. All went smoothly, though the National Guard vaccinating me asked where I’d gotten my vaccination card. Turns out that Washoe and Clark had different-looking ones.

I proceeded to a waiting area after. The Guard didn’t say to wait before I left, but I remembered Reno. I took a selfie and posted it to my Story: “Let’s get vaccinated!”

I heard a pop song and thought it sounded nice. I looked it up and felt surprised to learn it was Justin Bieber’s “Holy.” I used to despise the guy’s songs. But, this one made up for it. I like to let go of negativity.

Fourth Anniversary

That Saturday, May 8, 202I came the fourth anniversary of my mother’s passing. Dad had come back to town and indeed agreed with my hope for us to visit Mom’s grave. The trip would also be our first May visit with my stepmom, who borrowed my ol' Key Club fire visor. She’d joined our trip last August as well, for Mom’s birthday, I think.

Getting into Boulder City, we visited first the 99¢ Only Store—Dad’s tradition here.

Dad dropped off Tita and me at the entrance while he went to park. Tita asked whether to get fake flowers again or real ones, so I suggested real. I feel like fake flowers at gravesites seem weird.

Afterward, Tita requested that I pick out graduation cards for my sister Becky, our other sister’s boyfriend and my older brother’s girlfriend. It was at that time I realized that many folks I knew had graduation ceremonies this spring.

Cemetery

Once we got what we needed and Dad did his browsing across the store, we at last made our way to the cemetery. I found first the gravestone of our family friend, Tom Wood. His was on the edge of a row, making his easy to spot. Grasses had started to cover many of the words.

Ants crowded around his stone, so I didn’t stay long. I’d been trying my new sandals and wanted to avoid getting bitten. My recent binging of Kurzgesagt videos led me to know that ants can be intense. Still, beside Papa and Tita, I said my prayers in thanks to God and our friend who’d helped introduce my siblings and me to making the most of our educations in Vegas.

Then I walked over to Mom’s grave. Hers was nearby, across the road. Dad’s friend and my mom both perished on the same day, May 8, 2OI7.

Mom’s grave isn’t hard to find walking from between a tree and a bench by a trash can then down a few rows. From the ground, I popped out a metal cylinder and filled it at nearby faucet. Tita and I would then set into it some of the purple and white flowers she’d purchased for both graves.

In times like these, I tend to want to talk, but Dad looked quieter than usual. So, I let him have his peace. I wish he’d open up more. I guess that from his patriarchal generation or military service, fathers didn’t believe that sons needed to know their feelings.

Meanwhile, maybe the summer-like lush trees here contrasted Reno’s spring. Or perhaps my thoughts of “La La Land” reminded me of what was on my mind when we first visited this Boulder graveyard. Regardless, I felt transported back to 2OI7.

After personal little prayers, I and Dad recounted to Tita how the area looked back then—how we’d buried Mom in a dirt space at what was the section's edge. But now there are more grasses and grave markers for rows from 2OI8, 2OI9, 2O2O and 2O2I.

We noticed a youngish adult woman who seemed a bit frazzled. She held numerous colorful objects including large flowers, searching for something. Tita and I asked her, and she said she was looking for her parents, who’d passed away in 2OI7 and 2OI9. Tita, Dad and I helped her look. We scanned the ground beyond my mother. We found the parents. I felt glad.

Mothers’ Day

The next morning was Mothers’ Day. Since the holiday falls on May's second Sunday, Mothers' Day most always follows Mom's death day.

This year would be my first time celebrating Mothers' Day with my stepmom. We and her daughters convened at a Lucille's Smokehouse Bar-B-Que, which served meals in large portions. It was Tita’s baby grandson’s first time in crowded public, too! I enjoyed watching the way that baby Luke stared with wide eyes at us. White noise didn't faze him.

That day I’d I wrapped the Bed, Bath & Beyond gift that I’d bought for my friends to wed later in May. Pops, Tita and I readied anything else we’d need for the road trip back to Reno. Then began our journey again.

Into Graduations and May’s End

Friday, May 14 would celebrate the Baccalaureate Mass of lovely student coordinators and friends from my undergrad. The next morning, Saturday, May 15, I’d fly with my youngest siblings to L.A. for our sister Becky’s graduation. Then I’d stay behind an extra day for my friend and “La La Land” adventures.

That Wednesday would mark the 2Ist birthday of my youngest sister, Vana, as well as the day when I’d be fully inoculated, May 19! That Saturday my L.A. sister would then drive through Reno, where we’d sing karaoke.

Pentecost would follow on the Sunday after, May 23. Then would be May 3O and the trip with fraternity brothers to California for the long-awaited wedding of my undergrad coworkers—one of whom was also our fraternity brother. Weddings of peers feel so special.

I’ll probably have a second blog story themed around May 2O2I, given its abundance of activities. This summer I’m delighted mid-June to visit the Bay Area and a childhood friend I haven’t seen in a decade. Then at June’s end, after supporting virtual Boys’ State, I'll journey to Seattle to see Becky before my 24th birthday.

I still hope to return abroad this fall, but January 2O22 seems more likely now. Regardless, I’m doing my best to be ready when my time comes. I’ve enjoyed my year back in America. I hope that wherever I go next, I’ll remember with gratitude this life.

You can read more from me here at DanielLang.me :)

[unixcommerce]

9 Ways to Get Out of Your Comfort Zone

How do you define your comfort zone? The dictionary says it’s the place where “you feel comfortable and your abilities are not being tested.” In a second definition, the comfort zone is the place where “you don’t have to do anything new or different.”

We’ve all heard the saying to get out of your comfort zone. But what does that mean? It sounds like an easy phrase to throw around, but sometimes advice is easier to give than to take.

Luckily I’ve learned some things about the freedom that comes from trying something new and breaking out of boxes and restrictions — sometimes self-imposed. I’d like to share the things that I’ve learned that may have seemed uncomfortable at first, but brought me joy, excitement and opportunities.

Embracing new experiences can do more that enrich your life and business career. Those new experiences could change your life and the direction of your career.

How to Get Out of Your Comfort Zone

A long time ago, I was the assistant manager of a warehouse. It was a job that paid well and had a 9-to-5 schedule with no weekend work. My boss was a very nice man who treated all employees very well.

The company was sold and we all lost our jobs.

It was one of the best things that ever happened to me.

Since college, I’d worked in jobs that involved warehousing, shipping and receiving. I was good at it. But I can’t say that I ever really liked it. I used the severance pay to buy a backpack and other gear, then spent three months hiking. Can you say, “get out of comfort zone”? And after lots of planning, I almost didn’t go. I got offered another job (another warehouse/shipping job).

What to do? Take the job? Or step off into the woods? As I agonized over the decision, here’s what my best friend said to me, “How are you going to feel if you don’t?”

So, there’s your barometer. Is there something new you’ve always wanted to try, a place you’ve always wanted to visit? How does it feel NOT to do anything about it?

Ready? Here are some ideas for getting out of your comfort zone and achieving new things.

1. Make Changes to Your Daily Routine

This is an easy one because it teems with opportunities to change. Leave early, park a few blocks from work and take a walk.

Walking -for pleasure – is kind of a lost art, rediscovered during the pandemic. Shelter in place, no nonessential travel – ugh. But no one said you couldn’t take a walk, in fact, there are few better ways to practice social distancing. A short walk is a nice way to spend a lunch break.

Do you always watch the morning and evening newscasts, at specified times? Skip it. Use the time to read a book or listen to music. Try a Book on Tape or Language Learning Tape during your commute.

2. Delegate/Mentor

This one may make you uncomfortable. Why you can’t assign some of your work to an employee, right? Wouldn’t it be better to do it yourself? What if the employee doesn’t do it right? What if it causes a problem?

You’ll never know if employees can handle a new task unless you let them try. The reward may be twofold – TWO people getting out of their comfort zone! The employee also steps up and gets to try something new. As a manager or team leader, you may find that delegating work is something that has the “fear factor” attached to it.

So, before you totally let go of the reins, delegate the work as you mentor that employee. In other words, keep a close eye on things that first time, as you are outside of your comfort zone. Start small with easy tasks, and add more challenges to the employees as you begin to feel comfortable with their skills.

3. Learn Something New

I have this very precious Fender folk guitar that came along with me each time I moved. Of course, I hadn’t played it for about 35 years. Then one day I saw that a local art center was offering lessons. Impulsively, I enrolled. It was awesome to reconnect with that side of me.

Learning to play a musical instrument is a great option for a new experience, but there are lots more. Ride a horse, build a model plane or car, take a class at a local college. Try an unfamiliar spot for a weekend getaway or vacation.

4. One Nice Thing/Volunteer

In my neighborhood, I couldn’t help but notice the changes being made to a formerly forlorn looking, plain house. A couple of times I saw a young couple working in the yard, where they’d added flower beds and a new walkway to the door.

I learned their names and got one of those blank greeting cards. I wrote them a little note, just saying that it was nice to see the house being transformed. It was just a couple of lines, and I didn’t sign it. I felt good about doing that and hoped they enjoyed the praise.

Try to do one nice thing for someone every day. This should not be a secret – it feels really good to do something for another person. It’s best if you can do it anonymously. You can also spend some of your free time volunteering, even if it’s only in a small way. You could visit someone at a nursing home or walk dogs at an animal shelter. Help clean up a town park or cemetery.

I’d make a guess that every nonprofit organization wishes it had more volunteers, and everyone has an email address. Don’t think you have any applicable skills? You may be surprised. Forget about being uncomfortable and make contact.

5. Physical Change, Mental Change

To get out of your comfort zone, you may make a physical change such as embarking on a fitness program and diet plan (with the guidance of a physician). Sometimes that leap from the comfort zone is a big one – take the first step by making an appointment with your physician and seeking advice.

Physical exercise can be a boost to your mental health. For another improvement to your mental health, take time out from news, noise and electronics by unplugging. Even if you only take a one hour shut down, the peace you gain is worth the disconnect. You may find you like this so much, you’ll make a point of doing it every day.

6. Face Fear

I always tossed and turned the night before speech class. I dreaded it. The teacher had this favorite exercise that I loathed.

She would write topics on little scraps of paper and put the scraps in a hat. She would stroll the aisles and stop next to a student, who would pick a piece of paper. If you were the victim, I mean, student, you would then walk to the front of the class, look at your topic, and give a three-minute speech.

And then a funny thing started happening as I got out of my comfortable zone three days a week. Well, I got used to it. I found that comfort zones were funny things – the things that you feared became things that were at home in the comfort zone.

Public speaking is something that most of us dread. But every time I got up in front of the class, I got better at it. I still get nervous if I have to speak in front of a large group, but facing the fear of public speaking in that comparatively small (30 students) class laid the groundwork. If the thought of speaking to a group makes your knees knock, start small.

Are there other fears that stop you from getting out of your comfortzone? One way to address these fears is to make lists, The Worst That Could Happen and The Best That Could Happen.

As my wise friend said long ago, “How are you going to feel if you don’t?” Focus on the best things that can happen if you get to face your fear. Accept that the worst things that can happen may not be all that bad.

7. Get Out There

Have you tried an unusual recipe? Crafted your thoughts about the season, or an event from your day? Redecorated your office, home or backyard?

Get it out there for public response! Posting a personal accomplishment or event can be daunting, if you’re afraid of negative response. Take the plunge and get feedback, good and bad. Every “like” will make you smile.

8. Up Your Game

Did you ever hear the advice about how (if you play tennis) you should always play tennis with somehow who is a better player than you are? That’s true in many areas of our lives and careers.

Think about where you want to be in your career. You may already know, or be aware of, people who are in that place. If you want to be successful like them, shouldn’t you hang with successful people?

To get where you want to be, reach out to someone you respect. The easiest way may be through getting the person’s email address. Ask if you can schedule a short meeting, to get feedback and advice on your current path.

9. Single Step

I used to work with a guy who, every day at lunch, talked about how all he wanted was a cabin in the woods. To my knowledge, he never did anything about that wish. For example, he didn’t start saving $10 or $25 a week toward that goal.

It’s said that the longest journey starts with a single step, and this is true. People may have a goal of running a marathon, but since that distance is so daunting, they don’t start.

If you have a goal and break it down into doable segments, that you then start doing, your attitude will change. You’ll be able to think positively about this goal, because you are on the move toward it.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

I’ve often been asked simple questions about working outside your comfort zone, and here some answers.

What is the definition of comfort zone?

A comfort zone is a place where you feel comfortable and your abilities are not being tested. In other words, comfort zones are comfortable, safe ways of existing and working, usually in a set routine.

Is it hard to leave your comfort zone?

Yes, it can be hard to leave your comfort zone. Fear keeps us frozen, but like anything, fear becomes a habit. Figure out the worst that can happen, and the best that can happen. Focus on those best things, and it will be easier to escape that zone comfort.

What’s wrong with staying in your comfort zone?

There’s nothing wrong with accepting that you like being comfortable and there’s a time and place for that. But do you also like excitement? If you want to do things in a new way, you’re going to want to step outside your self-imposed box.

Be not afraid. Lean into what life has to offer. Go for it!

Image: Depositphotos.com

This article, “9 Ways to Get Out of Your Comfort Zone” was first published on Small Business Trends

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