#Bamboo poles near me

[deepesharya299]

[the-monkey-ruler]

How many kingdoms and realms exist in JTTW, could you give us a short explanation of these please? I understand there are like three realms according to Chinese mythology

How many kingdoms and realms exist in JTTW, could you give us a short explanation of these please?

There are many kingdoms that are visited in Xiyouji on their path, but I cannot say how many were during the Tang dynasty in general, you might wanna do some personal research for that case

The dragon prince was spared from death and banished to Yingchou Stream (鷹愁澗) in Shepan Mountain (蛇盤山), in the region that belongs to the Hamil Kingdom of the western barbarians.

Zhu Bajie found in Gao village and find that a daughter kidnapped in the the territory of the Kingdom of Qoco.

Yellow Robe Demon (黃袍怪) is based in Moon Waves Cave (波月洞) on Bowl Mountain (碗子山) in the Kingdom of Baoxiang (寶象國)

The Lion-Lynx Demon (獅猁怪) is actually the Azure Lion (青毛獅子), the steed of the bodhisattva Manjusri. He drowns the king of Wuji Kingdom (烏雞國) and took his position.

The Immortal of Tiger Power (虎力大仙), Immortal of Elk Power (鹿力大仙), and Immortal of Antelope Power (羊力大仙) are three demons who disguise themselves as Taoist magicians to deceive the ruler of the Kingdom of Chechi (車遲國).

The Ruler of Women's Country (女兒國國王) is the ruler of a nation in Xiliang (西梁) in Western Liang Kingdom with an all-female population in Women's Country (女兒國).

The Wansheng Dragon King (萬聖龍王) is based in Emerald Waves Lake (碧波潭), Rocky Mountain (亂石山), Kingdom of Jisai (祭賽國). He marries his daughter, Wansheng Princess, to the Nine-Headed Beast.

Sai Tai Sui (賽太歲; literally "Equivalent to Tai Sui") is a demon king based on Qilin Mountain (麒麟山) in the Kingdom of Zhuzi (朱紫國). He is actually the Golden Haired Hou (金毛犼), the steed of Guanyin.

The White Deer Spirit (白鹿精) is actually the mount of the deity Old Man of the South Pole (南極老人). He stole his master's staff and escaped into the human world. He accepts the White-Faced Vixen Spirit (白面狐狸精), a female Fox spirit, as an adopted-daughter, disguises her as a beautiful maiden, and presents her to the ruler of the Kingdom of Biqiu (比丘國).

The Ruler of the Kingdom of Miefa (滅法國; "Miefa" literally means "destroy dharma") hates Buddhists and once made an oath to slaughter 10,000 Buddhist monks. He realizes that he has done wrong in persecuting Buddhist monks so he repents and renames his domain "Kingdom of Qinfa" (欽法國; "Qinfa" literally means "respect for dharma").

The Grand Saint of Nine Spirits (九靈元聖) is actually the Nine-Headed Lion that Taiyi Jiuku Tianzun rides on. The lion seizes the opportunity to escape. He builds his base at the Jiuqu Panhuan Cave (九曲盤桓洞) at Bamboo Links Mountain (竹節山) near the Kingdom of Yuhua (玉華國).

The Jade Rabbit Spirit (玉兔精) is actually the moon rabbit that pounds a mortar and pestle in Guanghan Palace (廣寒宮) on the Moon. The fairy Su'e (素娥) once hit her and she bore a grudge against her. Su'e was later reincarnated as a princess of a Great Kingdom of India (天竺).

Su'e hid in the Monastery of the Anathapindika Garden in the Kingdom of Sravasti.

Honorary mention: Surya Kingdom is the place where the sun sets, and that's why its popular name is 'The Edge of Heaven.' During the time of late afternoon each day, the king will send people up to the battlements to beat the drums and blow the bugles, in order to dilute and weaken the sound of the sea boiling. (mentioned by Bajie)

Honorary mention: In years past, barbaric tribes of all four quarters came to pay us tribute: to the south, the Yuetuo Kingdom, to the north, the Qoco Kingdom; to the east, the State of Western Liang; and to the west, the Benbo Kingdom. (mention by Kingdom of Jisai).

Honorary mention: The state, Flowing Sand, was my ancestral home. My father was Flowing Sand Kingdom's king. Illness plagued me at the time of youth, A victim of a baleful natal star. (mentioned by Yellow Brows Demon).

Honorary mention: The spot releasing black vapors over there is the Lion-Camel Kingdom. (only called kingdom once by Sun Wukong).

Honorary mention: Master, my home is located in the Bimbana Kingdom, some two hundred miles from here. (mentioned by Lady Earth Flow.)

I understand there are like three realms according to Chinese mythology

There are three domains in the cosmos — Heaven, Earth, and the Underworld — and each domain is populated by a host of important gods and goddesses. The Heavenly Domain is ruled by the Jade Emperor, who presides over a court of important deities who are worshipped throughout China. Three Realms (三曹) – the belief that Heaven, the living and the deceased exist side by side; heaven is a place for saints or rested souls, the Underworld for the criminous deceased. Three wun seven pak (三魂七魄) explains a person's existence. The three realms is where a person exists, and the seven states are what makes a person exist.

Also suggest reading JTTW's article with just how Xioyuji uses these domains in regard to the 36 heavens and the 18 hells as well.

accompanied by my realms question, are the six realms something canon in JTTW or are the six realms something completely separate from JTTW and considered a different religion than the three realms mentioned in JTTW?

The Six Realms in Buddhist cosmology are the six worlds where sentient beings are reincarnated based on their karma, which is linked to their actions in previous lives. These paths are depicted in the Bhavacakra ("wheel of existence"). The six paths are

Hell (地獄道)

The Hungry Ghosts or pretas (餓鬼道)

The Beasts (畜生道)

Humans (人道)

The Titans or Asuras (修羅道)

Heaven, or the realm of the gods (天道).

Above these lie the four holy states: the Śrāvaka (声聞), the Pratyekabuddha (縁覚), the bodhisattva (菩薩) and finally completely enlightened Buddhahood.

We know that the wheel of reincarnation is very much real in Xiyouji and that the novel has Hindu and Buddhist mythology it wouldn't be out of the question that they have this specific cosmology, even if most of the time the novel is within more Easten heaven and dealing with Taoist gods.

There is a more modern take that is seen more fantasy novels where these 6 relams but that is far more used for the sake of fantasy where they are Gods (神界), Immortals (仙界), Spirits (妖界), Demon (魔界) Mortal (人界) and Ghosts 冥界(鬼界). Again this are more used for a fantasy setting in modern terms so this is a far more modern idea.

(heaven, mortal realm and diyu), like, the Demon realm and spirit realm are a thing in JTTW?

Demons and yao do not have their own realm. Demons are rather animals, plants, or other spirits that they to escape Hell (地獄道), The Hungry Ghosts or pretas (餓鬼道), or The Beasts (畜生道) and move on the human form. Or even celestials that abandon their posts and turn into demons as well. It is because they don't have their own realm that they are considered unnatural and going against the laws of nature.

[100yearoldcomics]

August 11, 1922 The Gumps by Sid Smith: "Potatoes, They Grow Large at Shady Rest"

[ID: Andy and Ephraim walk away from his house, towards the lake. Andy shoulders a bamboo fishing pole while Ephraim carries a long wooden ladder. /end] Andy: Where you going with the ladder so early this morning? It can't be you're going to pick apples.

[ID: Andy sits on a crate and listens as Ephraim hold the ladder upright and explains things. /end] Ephraim: No, I'm just going out to pick potato bugs. The vines aren't very tall this year. Last year, I had to climb to the top of this ladder and knock 'em off with a clothes pole. Bugs aren't near as big as they were last year, either. Aren't much bigger than a good sized turtle. Those that don't get killed by the fall, I hit in the head with an ax.

[ID: They get up and keep walking. /end] Ephraim: Have to start to dig potatoes pretty soon. They get so big, you can hardly handle 'em. Last year, we had to roll 'em in one at a time. One of 'em got away from me. Rolled down and went right through that hill over there. Made more money out of that potato than out of anything I ever sold. Killed a horse and a couple of cows, but I sold the hole to the railroad. They're using it for a tunnel now.

[bigenemybouquet]

14 Businesses Doing a Great Job at blind repair service

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So, you desire the benefits of window blinds but also like the appearance of curtains? Don't be afraid to match both window treatments with each other to optimize your style options, supply light control and also enhance personal privacy. If you're considering this hybrid look, it's an excellent suggestion to select the sort of blind you desire initially. Roller blinds and also Venetian blinds often match well with curtains. For an elegant appearance, think about a muted shade for your blinds and an accent shade for your drapes. If intense shades aren't your thing, you might wish to layer white on cream or beige to create a refined but crisp appearance that will certainly work in nearly any type of area.

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Clean home window blinds & shades will freshen the appearance of any kind of area décor as well as more significantly, are devoid of the irritants and also germs that may negatively affect your family's daily wellness. Routine cleaning or cleaning of your blinds and also shades is very important to manage accumulation of undesirable as well as potentially harmful particles. Incorporating a few mins every week to do this during housekeeping, is a sensible regimen. Nevertheless, when oily vapour from cooking (crud), and also wetness from humidity or the conduction of cold and hot through your window panes, adhere dirt and also pollutants to window structures and also the many surface areas of blinds as well as shades, it will need a cleaning procedure to return them to their original condition. Window blind cleaning can be a hard, tedious as well as usually discouraging job, generating spotty outcomes and/or damages to fragile blades and also the beautiful surface areas of bathtubs as well as shower rooms. Specialist Ultrasonic Cleansing is a welcome as well as budget friendly option with service alternatives that will certainly satisfy any type of home spending plan. To change your residence into a wholesome environment, do not limit your emphasis to the elimination of old carpeting and also the applic.

[purpletastemakerinfluencer]

10 Things Everyone Hates About how to remove abc roller blinds

Benefits of Window Blinds

Experienced indoor designers will certainly inform you that window blinds give a quick and easy means to transform a space. Yet, you might question if blinds supply any kind of specific advantages over other types of window coverings, such as drapes or shades. For lots of homeowners, the answer is absolutely of course. Below are just a few of the many advantages of window blinds that may persuade you that they're the right option for your home.

Better Control of Light and Heat

Whether you choose complete morning sunlight, filteringed system light or full darkness, blinds allow you to manage the illumination in a room. This makes them an optimal choice for bedrooms, residence theaters and office. Throughout the summer months, blinds also can be helpful in obstructing heat and UV rays from going into with windows. This can assist maintain you cooler, while securing carpets, furnishings and also house surface areas from fading.

Enhanced Privacy

The advantages of blinds also consist of providing an enhanced degree of personal privacy that can't be accomplished with lots of various other window covering choices. Since blinds can be completely closed, they can make it more difficult for robbers to peek via home windows. For optimum personal privacy, you may wish to consider top-down blinds that can be bear repairs near me opened up and also shut both on top, near the top of the home window frame, and also near the bottom, near the windowsill. This sort of blind is perfect for a restroom because it lets light get in from outdoors while preserving your personal privacy.

Wide Selection of Designs, Color Styles as well as Materials

Regardless of the design of your area, you will certainly have lots of options when it pertains to blinds, in terms of both style and also price. Upright blinds are excellent for huge home windows and also sliding glass doors, while mini-blinds as well as Roman blinds are excellent for picture windows. Cordless blinds are a safe as well as wise option in residences with children as well as family pets. As for products, wood blinds can give an extravagant appearance that fits with standard home furnishings and also wood floorings. Various other cost-saving choices consist of plastic, bamboo, vinyl as well as also light weight aluminum. You'll additionally have a variety of selections for shades and also sizes of slats.

Easy Upkeep

One the many advantages of blinds is that they're exceptionally easy to maintain tidy. You'll likely locate that a periodic dusting or a clean with a damp fabric is sufficient to keep them looking like new for many years. Curtains, on the other hand, call for washing or dry cleaning, as well as rehanging. For households with allergic reaction sufferers, blinds are especially helpful, given that dirt as well as dirt can be easily eliminated to minimize symptom-causing irritants.

Reduce of Installation

If you're looking for a quick remedy for your home window treatments, you might wish to select blinds. A professional installer can generally mount braces right into a home window structure, install a blind and also affix the components in an issue of minutes. Compare this to personalized drapes, which can take dramatically longer to both make as well as hang. Even store-bought drapes need proficient setup to level brackets, slide panels on the pole, hang and protect in place.

Option to Layer Home Window Treatments

So, you want the advantages of window blinds yet also like the look of curtains? Don't hesitate to combine both home window treatments with each other to maximize your layout choices, offer light control and also boost privacy. If you're considering this hybrid appearance, it's a good suggestion to pick the type of blind you want initially. Roller blinds and Venetian blinds often pair well with curtains. For a stylish appearance, take into consideration a muted shade for your blinds as well as an accent shade for your drapes. If brilliant colors aren't your point, you might intend to layer white on cream or off-white to create a refined yet crisp look that will certainly work in nearly any kind of room.

The Benefits Of Clean Window Blinds & Tones

Clean window blinds & tones will certainly freshen the look of any area decoration as well as more notably, are devoid of the allergens and also bacteria that might negatively influence your family members's everyday wellness. Normal cleaning or wiping of your blinds as well as shades is necessary to regulate build-up of unsightly and potentially unhealthy particles. Integrating a couple of minutes every week to do this during housecleaning, is a prudent routine. However, when oily vapour from food preparation (grime), and also moisture from humidity or the transmission of hot and cold via your window panes, adhere dirt as well as pollutants to window structures as well as the many surfaces of blinds as well as shades, it will certainly need a cleaning procedure to return them to their initial problem. Home window blind cleaning can be a challenging, tedious as well as typically discouraging task, generating erratic results and/or damages to vulnerable blades and also the beautiful surfaces of bathtubs and shower enclosures. Expert Ultrasonic Cleansing is a welcome and also inexpensive choice with solution choices that will please any family spending plan. To change your house into a wholesome environment, do not limit your emphasis to the removal of old carpets and also the applic.

[dreamingofaizawa]

Powerful Ch. 1

Yakuza! Shouta Aizawa x Fem! Reader

*Mafia AU* Quirkless as well

Warnings: Arranged (sort of) marriage, brief mention of champagne, mentions of violence (nothing too specific). In later chapters: Probably smut

Word Count: 3.4 k

Author’s Note: ALRIGHTY here we go. I just had a fixation on Mafia AUs and, of course, it’s Shouta. What else did you expect? I’m a sucker for arranged relationships. Also he’s a little ooc in here, more confident, more ‘I want it I got it’. Hey, he’s the most powerful man in Japan, might as well have him act like it right? Anywho, I have no clue how many chapters this’ll end up being. Let’s just say this is ongoing for now.

Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Enjoy~

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25 years old and you haven’t been married off yet. This was strategic on your father’s part. As a rather low-ranking clan he’d purposely saved you, his eldest daughter, for marrying into a higher ranked clan. You’d bring immense honor to the family name. If only you’d known what you were getting into, maybe you could have been better prepared for your world to flip on its head.

The black velvet gown you wear is tailored perfectly to your form, accentuating every curve and dip on your body. The skirt fanned out around you gracefully and a short train trailed behind you as you stepped through the grand doors of the massive mansion. Tonight is the annual celebratory ball, held to celebrate successful unions and achievements. This one was particularly special, you just didn’t quite know it yet.

Since the event wasn’t mandatory, you were told to go in alone as a representative of your clan, while Mother and Father attended to more important matters. Before you even stepped in you fixed your posture and schooled your expression, keeping your form humbled. Heavens know what could happen should you irk the wrong clan.

Inside you were met with an onslaught of mixed everything, mixed drinks and colors and styles. Some wore traditional Japanese kimono, others more modern versions of the garment and others, like you, wearing more extravagant european or western style clothing. Though a rather interesting mix, nothing quite clashed which you were slightly grateful for, since there was no possible way you could make it through the night without a headache if there was an unpleasant mix of visuals.

You strode through and instantly met several lower clan heads that you respectfully bowed to and engaged in pleasant small talk with, moving from person to person, couple to couple and paying respects to all of them. You kept a small smile, a pleasant facade as you waltzed over the hardwood flooring. It took almost two hours of endless conversation before you managed to catch a break in the madness, snatching a small flute of champagne from a waiter and leaning up against a wall for a breath. 

You still hadn’t noticed the pair of dark eyes that studied you from the moment you arrived.

____

You struck him as intriguing at first. From the moment you walked over the threshold his eyes drank you in, studying you, observing and judging just as he had with many other women before you. No one here knows it, but the man is looking for a bride. Someone who could stand by his side,improve and uphold his image, help him wield the power that is the Yakuza. Yes, rank is important, but Shouta is too picky to care about rank. He is looking for a specific type of woman, one that can hold untold depths of power without crumbling under the pressure or getting swept up in the rush of it all.

A woman, he decides, like you.

You held yourself with grace, pride and humility. You seemed to understand your position, your probable low rank, while also not undermining your importance nor worth. A woman like you is hard to come by in this world, most just as power hungry and ruthless and greedy as their husbands, all while putting up a cotton candy sweet mask and using it to disguise their conniving ways. 

But in truth, that’s what it took to live this kind of life, isn’t it?

It was clear you knew that, while still managing to feel genuine in everything you did, even with an action as simple as sipping champagne. At the same time he can’t deny you are quite beautiful, soft lips and softer eyes, fingers gently grasping your glass with unmatched elegance and an unwavering strength in your posture. You’d bowed before many this evening, and yet you stood taller than even the highest ranking clan heads without challenging a single one of them. Bamboo in this forest of tall, unyielding trees. Capable of wielding so much power.

For a split second his mind wandered to other things, filthy moments shared in the privacy of his chambers, shared breaths and shimmering sweaty skin. He wondered what you would be like underneath him, if you would be a brat or willingly submit yourself to him. He hopes it to be the latter, but wouldn’t completely deny the chance to tame someone difficult. How would you look pinned under his weight, completely helpless to his hands that have killed and tortured? Would you claw at his shoulders or grip the sheets instead? What would you sound like? Your image plagued his mind even if only for a moment.

He’d studied many women over the few hours since the event started, none of them giving him a good enough first impression for him to continue watching further than a minute. There was no question in his mind now. You’d be returning home with him tonight.

____

You had just finished your drink and set the empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray when suddenly the ballroom fell extremely silent. All heads turned, eyes focused on the man that began his descent from the balcony overlooking the floor. He’s gorgeous, long black hair pulled into a low bun and exposing the light scruff on his chin and impossibly sharp jaw, a deep scar curved under his right eye. The full black satin suit is fitted to his form, strong shoulders and rolling muscle evident even under the thick materials. Ink peeked over the collar, a hint at what was definitely intricate sleeves and detailed artwork. His steps were measured, calculated and purposeful as he made his way down and across the floor, the entire room bowing down at his presence. 

You know who he is, as does every person here. Top rung of the ladder, Oyabun of the most powerful clan in Japan, his name widely known through the entire organization and yet almost never spoken. Shouta Aizawa, a name both respected and feared, holding unknown power and strength. His reputation is enough to make anyone feel small in his presence, known for his cold demeanor and the violence he’d committed, many losing their fingers, loved ones, and their own lives for misdeeds against him. He’d done most of that himself, marking him as a very dangerous man to be involved with, and an ally everyone wanted backing them.

You bowed down respectfully just as everyone else did, waiting patiently for a release, whether it was from the man himself or a collective understanding that it was alright to rise once again. The former was the first to come to fruition, though you didn’t expect him to be so close to you as he said it. Your eyes met with sharp onyx as you fixed yourself upright. It made you freeze in place, not quite tense, not quite relaxed, your expression hopefully not showing the utter shock you were feeling.

“What is your name?” You blinked only once before your mind caught up, and you willed your voice steady as you responded. What had you done to piss him off? What punishment awaited you for what you didn’t know you’d done? Despite fearing what may come, you don’t dare speak out of turn, even to beg for your life. His next words were addressed to the entire ballroom, you included, his smooth, deep voice booming out and yet somehow not loud at all.

“Any transgression against this woman is a transgression against me. As my future wife she is untouchable, and will remain that way until I explicitly state otherwise.” A collective hushed gasp sounded through the massive hall, your own eyes growing wide and your heart damn near stopping as your brain dissected the information. He just made you his fiance, with no warning, no hesitation, and full confidence. You are now engaged to the most powerful man in Japan, and you have exactly zero say in the matter. Really though, you never expected to be able to voice any opinions considering the patriarchy of the organization, so that bit of shock was quickly overlooked.

“It’s time to retire, little one.” His hand was held out to you, waiting for your own. You blinked, deciding it was best that you saved your shock for later you focused on the here and now and what to do in this moment. Taking a breath, you schooled your face into a pleasant smile and placed your hand in his waiting palm, allowing him to tuck you into his side as you both walked out the front doors and climbed into a black limouzine.

You didn’t allow yourself to relax, sitting silently next to the man as trees and telephone poles whizzed by the vehicle. It was tense, to say the least, his hand possessively sat on your knee as his eyes remained fixed in front of him and yours did the same. Neither of you talked, you slightly out of fear, of respect, and slightly out of sheer shock, your mind just barely able to keep itself together. He remained silent for a purpose. He would talk when you were alone, or when he felt like talking. Which isn’t right now.

You let your mind whirl a bit, worrying about what this meant for you. Worrying about how this powerful man would treat you, how he acted behind closed doors and if he even cared about you or what you might have to say. It’s nerve-wracking, suddenly bound to a power such as him, not knowing what could happen next, not knowing what to do next. There was nothing that could have prepared you for this.

The car slowed as it pulled up to the gate of the enormous estate, shaking you out of your thoughts, and once it opened the drive to the main house took nearly five minutes on its own. It’s a modern home, several stories tall with the top clearly penthouse-style with a full glass wall that overlooks the landscape, the rest of the huge inner home hidden behind crisp walls.

At a full stop, a man opens the door for you, the Oyabun having already exited and held a hand out for you to grab once again, strong muscles pulling you up with ease and leading you through the building and into an elevator. The silence is stifling as you wait for the machine to come to a stop, the soft chime indicating you’ve landed. 

Now you’re completely alone with him.

He leads you in and stops in the center of the large main room, stepping away and turning his scrutinizing gaze onto you. You do your best not to tense in front of him, not to show fear, partially for his comfort though you’re sure he’s used to it. His shoes clack softly, rhythmically on the polished wood floor as he begins to circle you, like a predator eyeing its prey, eyes burning paths up and down your form. You barely keep from squirming under his intense gaze, managing to keep still from sheer willpower. He stops suddenly behind you and you feel his warmth as he leans in close before a hand presses into your mid back and another gently grasps your shoulder, gently making you straighten even more, stand even taller.

Once he’s satisfied with your posture he rounds you and tilts your chin just a tad higher with a hooked finger. He’s silent as he shapes you, adjusting your body to his liking. You let him tenderly push and tug, grab and knead and trail those deadly fingers over you until he stops before you, studying you once again. 

“You’re my fiance now. You will hold yourself as such, radiate power as I do and command the attention of a room with only a glance.” The reminder of just what was happening made your breath stutter a little, and his hand came up to grasp your chin, making you look up into his dark eyes.

“You will learn, little one, to be the powerful woman I see.” He was so close, the heat from his body rolling over your skin and his breaths fanning over your face. Then he was walking away, motioning for you to follow as he led you to his chambers and bathroom to get cleaned up. You’d be sleeping with him from now on, he said, handing you a robe to change into after you’ve bathed and guiding you into the bathroom before closing the door and leaving you alone with your thoughts as you set to cleaning yourself.

Given you don’t screw things up, you are going to be the most powerful woman in Japan, solely because of a sudden arranged marriage dropped seemingly from out of nowhere. But the longer you think about it, it isn’t really out of nowhere is it? The Oyabun is 30 now, and until tonight hadn’t named a wife, nor any love interests, and therefore no possible heirs. If the man were to die for any reason, those chances only increasing the older he gets, the power vacuum his absence would create would be absolute madness. You’re part of a strategy, just as before. Just as always.

Yet there was no denying he’d struck something inside you. Of all the women in that hall he approached you, a woman he didn’t know from a low ranked clan, for reasons you could only barely begin to guess. He’d called you powerful earlier, the sincerity in his voice making your mind spin. Did he really see you as powerful? And the name he’d used for you felt far too tender on the tongue of such a dangerous man, though you understood the nod toward your previous rank. 

Father and Mother must be either confused, shocked, or overflowing with joy right about now. Confused as to why you haven’t returned, shocked, happy, or both at the news had they learned it. With your mind processing everything, your body finally begins to feel fatigued. 

You shut off the water before drying yourself, patting your hair in the towel before pulling on the fluffy robe. It was clearly meant for him, the fuzzy black garment large around the shoulders and sleeves engulfing your hands, the garment nearly touching the floor where it’s meant to hang several inches from it on his frame. Despite swimming in the robe, you couldn’t help but feel a bit vulnerable. You’re bare beneath it, not having planned to not return home. Still, it’s late, and the Oyabun needs to shower as well. With a steadying breath, you step out into the room.

He’s standing near the bed, the top half of his clothing discarded and bare skin exposed, along with the heavy tattooing and scars along his body. Dragon scales decorated his skin, along with delicate swirls heavily resembling smoke and clouds that followed the curves of his corded muscles. He is undoubtedly a beautiful man. You don’t realize you’re staring until a miniscule smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Enjoying the view, little one?” You blink away your daze and shift your eyes to the side, feeling the slight burn in your face at being caught. Instead of answering the cheeky question you choose to change the subject.

“I’m finished with my shower, Oyabun.” He hums, a low sound you can feel in your chest.

“I can see that, little one. And you call me Shouta.” You take a quiet, sharp inhale and nod.

“Yes, of course...Shouta.” His name feels heavy on your tongue, a name that people didn’t normally dare speak. He’s silent as he gathers his things and moves toward the bathroom, stopping momentarily by your side. You’re confused a moment before his calloused fingers gently grip your jaw and turn your head, his lips pressing softly against your temple for a split second before he’s disappearing into the bathroom. 

You stand in shock, the tender touch unexpected. Shaking your head, you decide it’s best to lay down. Hopefully you’d fall asleep by the time he finishes bathing, but you doubted it. You’re proven right when, in the midst of mulling over your own thoughts, he emerges in nothing but sweatpants, dark hair still damp as it fell around his shoulders. You managed to avert your eyes before he could catch you staring for a second time tonight, and it wasn’t long before he slipped under the blankets next to you.

There wasn’t a single word shared between you as he flicked off the lights with a remote and settled into the plush mattress. There was no movement from the man as you lay with your back to him. You aren’t entirely sure if the lack of movement unsettles you more than if he were to be shuffling around. It felt like hours had passed in the darkness, your eyes had adjusted and you couldn’t sleep despite how exhausted you felt. 

Your mind raced with questions. What happens now? What happens with your clan and parents? Would you have clothes soon? How would he treat you? How were you supposed to act around him? When is the wedding? Is the engagement already official? What if you disappoint him and fuck everything over? The entire situation makes you anxious, for more than something as trivial as your own safety. You shift onto your back and listen to Shouta’s soft snores, signaling his sleep. As silently and gently as you can, you slip out of bed.

You have no clue what you were going to do or where you were going to do it, but you had to get away from him if only for a moment, to let yourself breathe and think. Almost mindlessly, you find yourself staring out of the glass wall and out into the night. This far out, you can see the stars in the night sky clear and bright, and it was a sight you missed having lived in the city most of your life. Right here you have room to think, space to spread your thoughts and calm your mind to keep from jumbling everything in your brain and stressing over it more. 

From what you can tell there is a very small chance Shouta would treat you maliciously, so for now you don’t have to worry about that. Considering his power and status, you won’t be without clothing for long. The thought was silly in the first place, but stress tended to make you question even the most ridiculous. As for how you’re meant to act, well that would have to be tested. He’d already told you how to appear to the public, so that shouldn’t be too hard, but being alone with the man was driving you insane.

Soft footsteps broke you from your thoughts. You spin around, suddenly very much on guard, before Shouta’s voice broke through the darkness, his figure slowly approaching. 

“What are you doing up, little one?” You bite your lip and turn to gaze outside again, hugging your arms tight.

“Just thinking. I apologize for waking you, Oya-… Shouta.” His warmth hit you before his skin did, chest pressed into your back and large rough hands gripping your shoulders firm but gentle. His breath is hot on your ear and neck, sending a shiver down your spine. Such an intimate action from him only hours after he’d made you his fiance was quite the shock in and of itself, only enhanced by the fact that this man is known for his cold nature.

“Thinking about what?” His hands smoothed down your arms, following them around your waist and encompassing your hands in his, tugging you into him further. Unnatural as it may seem, it feels good, his warmth. In the arms of such a dangerous and powerful man you should feel small and scared, but you don’t. You aren’t entirely sure what it is you feel. Truthfully, you don’t have the energy to answer his question properly.

“About a lot of things. Too many things.” Right now, the only thing you want to do is melt into the man’s arms. His presence is suddenly comforting, instead of worrying, and you feel safe in his embrace. You sigh and lean into him, fatigue finally beginning to tug at your body and mind. Strong arms scoop you up like nothing, and suddenly you’re being placed down on the bed before he climbs in and pulls you onto him. An arm circles your waist while the other cradles your head, a tender kiss placed at your hairline.

“Sleep, little one.” His fingers thread through your hair, massaging your scalp lightly. It’s a soothing action, especially after nearly giving yourself a headache from stress. It isn’t long before you’re nodding off, relaxing into his body and letting his steady heartbeat lull you to sleep.

[chocoladieimagines]

If you’re taking reqs may I request Sanemi x black fem reader who is also a demon slayer and short tempered as him?

Absolutely! In the way of being short tempered, I would think of a s/o who isn’t afraid of speaking her mind if need be. So someone who often doesn’t agree with Sanemi’s actions at times since he can be stubborn and quick to lash out. Also doing things without thinking rationally since it can be extremely difficult to dissuade him from something after harboring so much hatred. Basically, whenever she’s around him, it’s just a totally different side of her she shows towards him that he’s just like ‘damn what I do to her’ lol.

Sanemi Shinazugawa x Black!Reader

- You were first to be born to two parents familial of a powerful military caste.

- During the feudal period, samurai were so highly valued in feudal Japan thanks to their lifetime of training in the art of war, their monopoly on the tools of war, and the use of these two values as officers of peace. Without these valuable traits and possessions, society could no longer justify their existence

- The Emperor Meiji realized that Japan was far behind the western nations in technology and that in order to survive as an independent country, they would need to make dramatic changes to catch up.

- They decided that the division of Japanese society into separate social classes hindered modernization. The task of removing the feudal class system was by removing the informal social superiority of the samurai and integrating them into the rest of society as equals.

- Eventually, they came to accept their new station in life and integrated with the rest of society. They became artisans, merchants, and farmers. Many joined the National army as officers or became civil servants.

- However, several people born in foreign countries were granted the title of samurai. The period of the Nanban (Southern Barbarian) in Japan from 1543 to 1614, is named such to mark the arrival of the first Europeans to Japan and ensuing establishing of certain relations of power and culture. The slaves were not only work horses of heavy labor but some were clerics, translators, interpreters and guides.

- There were different kinds of “black”, different hues and heritages as black bodies as slaves were not only from the African continent but also Malaysian and South Asian negrito tribals, black Asian aboriginal tribal peoples were enslaved by white nations during the colonial period. At the same time, Northern or East Asian attempted continuously to invade and conquer their southern neighbors, by land and sea. A man by the name of Takeshi, a black Asian, became a retainer of a daimyo, a great lord who were vassals of the shogun.

- Since the Southeast Asians and South Sea peoples were of darker complexion and with some having similar physical features with Africans, they were all considered “black” by the northern Asian invaders and traders. Condescending attitudes towards the Southeast Asians, Filipinos, and all tribal people, came concurrently with the desire to rule and be superior. Takeshi’s tribe was conquered and became part of lower caste groups and ethnic groups in Japan. After these ethnic groups were obliterated and assimilated with the Japanese as “one” people, Takeshi became born into a samurai family.

- When a child grew up in a samurai family, he was expected to be a warrior when he grew up, so much of his childhood being spent practicing different martial arts. This became respected of him as a Samurai, since not many black people would have the opportune of joining the upper echelons of Japan’s warrior class, the samurai. However, after samurais became abolished, Takeshi’s family still instilled justice and educated the populace of relatives to keep their operations secretive. They kept the tradition of Samurai because of the arisen of demons, since the creatures live in secrecy upon the outskirts of the population, at large being ignorant to their existence.

- By hiding from persecutors, they were closer to villages or clans which trickles down to you as a descendant of Takeshi.

- Your mother was a female warrior, who would be referred as the Onna-Musha if it were premodern times. The Onna-Musha or Bugeisha were trained in martial arts and strategy, and fought alongside the samurai to defend their homes, families and honors.

- After you were born, you were also trained in the same method with a Naginata; a versatile, conventional pole arm with a curved blade at the tip. It allowed onna-bugeisha better balance given their small stature.

- Since killing demons meant forging Nichirin blades out of Scarlet Crimson Ore (which absorbed sunlight to such an extent that decapitation was all that was needed to kill a demon), your family learned to utilize mystical combat in multiple forms of martial arts.

- By using their own life force energy, they may create, shape and manipulate the energy of elements otherwise, specifically solar energy. It appears as a beautiful luminance around the blade of your naginata; resembling the gaseous form of a flame as it shows iridescence of illuminating colors.

- After you were trained from your parents’ devotion of you having self defense, your siblings were born into the world. One by one looking up to you as their role model—someone worthy of imitation. Due to being accompanied by your little brothers and sisters, you felt a sense of a gravitational pull to them. Feeling the necessity of ensuring their safety and security, immutably driving you to respond to even their needs like it was a maternal instinct. Which included developing a distressed mentality that precipitated firing off on someone in defense of an argument (usually for the protection of others).

- Your family was unbeknownst of the Demon Slayer Corps until you encountered a tall, muscular, and slender man with spiky white hair and large lavender eyes. You were surprised to see that his body and face were covered in scars which looked to have “accrued” after years of his (seemingly) encyclopedic knowledge against fighting demons.

- He looked at you strangely as well; you wore a slit silky white kimono patterned by green bamboo lattice and one arm wriggled free of a sleeve, cinched with a matching green sash. Your freed arm allowed view of your sarashi wrapped tightly around your chest as your arm was lightly armored in iron plates and kusari (iron chain mail) sewn together in layers. A conical bamboo hat was loosely tied around your neck so the hat could lie on your back, showing your features to him.

- His eyes ogled you from your Geta sandals and your smooth bared leg to the luster of your garment shining the curvatures of your hips. He silently thought the expression of your features was attractive, especially the thick coily tresses of your hair that framed your face. The way it outwardly levitated from gravity due to its curly strands was particularly unique to him.

- You didn’t like the way he stared at you. It felt like you were on display for his eyes to undress you. “What is your business here?” You inquired, pulling the man’s notice on your hand clenching your weapon. It was said prior that more demons became present near your rural areas. You went on duty to track where they were coming from—inside the woods—only to find the man beheading them and stringing some up for daybreak. He possibly did it to torture them.

- “I should be asking you the same thing.” He scoffed. “Surely you weren’t coming to kill those demons, especially in that attire. Quite provocative for the Demon Slayer’s uniform.” “Excuse me? Provocative? For what uniform? I am not schooled like some student. And what if I am a demon slayer?” You spoke in incredulousness. It seemed so misogynistic to you that you were first judged on the clothing honorary to your tradition. You wondered if he thought it deprived from your abilities.

- He chuckled as if you just made a joke, “You wouldn’t last a day if you think being a Demon Slayer is about getting dolled up. It looks like you’re trying to attract demons more than fend them off.” “And who are you to judge how I dress? Do you think that flaunting your abs will counter my ability of kicking your ass?” “What? These?” He opened his gakuran jacket more to expose the six pack of his abdominal muscles, feeling heat escalate to your cheeks as he beheld more of the scars on his body. He then responded to your gaze with a smirk, “How kind of you to make a comparing example of something that’s attractive. You can touch them too if you’d like.”

- Was he flirting with you? First, he criticized you on you looks, now he decided to taunt you? You grasped your naginata and spaced your feet into a stance. You grabbed the polearm with your backhand over your thigh and your front hand gripped higher up the weapon away from the body. You kept your posture straight for a proper height of the blade.

- He deviously snickered, “What a naughty girl. You know it’s against the rules for demon slayers to fight each other upon confrontation.” “What rules? On our turf, you are on our property. Which means you have the obligation to move or be moved.” You denounced. “Such big talk. I’ll end this quickly so master will barely see it as a fight.”

- With that, he dashed towards you, surprising you to see he didn’t unsheathe his weapon. The way he zipped towards you, he was meaningful of close combat at short range, unlike your naginata which coupled with greatly increased distance gave the spearman a real advantage. You decided in quick process to rely on your agility and powerful kicks as you channel your energy through your attacks. It would greatly enhance and empower yourself and your executions for more efficacy or potency for damage.

- You evaded his swift attack by being able to propel yourself on your naginata, mutually measuring out the steadiness between your weight and the pole. By this, you were able to “squat” on your weapon from above and consider the next attack to perform. Within the time frame of him realizing you’ve dodged his move, you swung your body and temporarily featured upper body strength in defying gravity. You paralleled your body with the ground and for a second’s notice distributed your weight with the naginata—landing a concussive kick into his side. The impact knocked him back a far distance, colliding into a tree.

- You quickly ran towards him, fluently combining fast and slow slashes with side and forward dashes to create variants of attacks and to force him to remain in defense and safe distance from you. Yet, he moved instantaneously in response to his stimulus, being able to try to control his reaction time and adapt into some of your methods of thinking/fighting. Thus, he “used your strength” against you, making the precision of composite punches to your face. You hit the ground, seeing him hover over your body and holding down your arms, “Like I said, our match is over. You will come back with me to face consequences.”

- You managed to pull your legs to your chest and kick him away from you, “I don’t answer to you! I don’t even know who you are or this place you’re loyal to.” You kick your body back up, following back into a stance to prepare you for anymore engagement. “Quit acting so damn confused, you’re a demon slayer aren’t you?” He remarked questionably. You frowned in frustration, wondering if he was subliminally asking something. “Well technically yes, but obviously not in the definition you mean.” You said.

- The man deeply sighed, “Women. You’re so flip-floppy. How can you nod your head yes but say no?” You rolled your eyes, “Because you asshole, I still kill demons, just not in the same uniform as you.” “Hmph, only the swordsman of the Demon Slayer Corps utilize nichirin blades that are powerful enough to kill demons. How could you not be in the organization if you can still kill them?” “My family and I have been living in secrecy from the government because as descendants, our predecessors still practiced the tradition of the samurai. We resorted towards rural settlements by richer jungle to be able to hide our weapons and practices extant because of demons. We’ve never heard of this ‘Demon Slayer Corps’ since we thought we were the only ones being militant and knowledgeable of demons’ existence.”

- Sanemi had many questions but thought it would be wise to save them for Oyakata-Sama. Suddenly, a crow began to drift above you two and utter a series of grating caws, “Ca-Caw! Sanemi Shinazugawa is to report back to Oyakata Sama! Ca-Caw!” “I hate that fucking bird.” You heard Sanemi mumble. “You know my name so you’re coming with me. The Demon Slayer Corps is more sustainably adequate for you anyway.”

- As much as you wanted to protest what he meant in clarification, you knew what he meant. If you were to join the Demon Slayer Corps, you could raise more money for your family, since you were practically cut off from the rest of Japan’s economies. You live without the government’s support which meant that without roads, markets, banks and connections to the rest of the country, no new economies would take root. Instead, you were labor-intensive; plantations that exploit cheap labor available in nearby villages and towns, while the majority of the crops grown are mostly shipped to global markets.

- Upon meeting “Oyakata-Sama”, you hesitantly followed Sanemi’s lead in kneeling before the gentleman. You didn’t want to be rude possibly staring at what appeared to be an illness or disease he had befallen. Nevertheless, he had a gentle and calm demeanor that enraptured you. “Master, I am pleased to see you in good health. I fervently pray for your continued good fortune,” Sanemi wished, suprisingly showing a side of reverence for him. “During my mission, I happened to encounter one of the villagers who says her and her family are samurai and are capable of defending themselves against demons although they have no prior knowledge or connections with the Demon Slayer Corps.”

- “How interesting, especially since the samurai were abolished during the Meiji Restoration at least 44 years ago. May I know your name?” He asked while you were partially listening, due to being soothed by his calming voice. Sanemi elbowed you to catch your attention, “Oh! My name is Y/N L/N, pleased to meet you, sir.” “Indeed a samurai clan. I must know the reason why you and your family decided to keep paying homage to these military warriors.”

- You explained everything about your family to the man; your fighting styles, your way of practicing, your attire, etc. Sanemi “patiently” stayed by your side since he wouldn’t leave without Oyakata’s orders. Although your apparel was a bit disheveled from earlier, Sanemi still slightly thought you pulled the look off, expertly. There was something about your unique fashion that made him feel warmth, magnetism, enticement—weird. For someone as abrasive, hot-blooded and stubborn as he was, he never thought he would be trusted with the idea of intimacy between another person. His cold personality resulted in losing too many people he cared about in the past. Opening himself up again for someone would be too much, especially in a world where it was a war between demons and humans.

- “Sanemi, could you please show Y/N around to sway her interests of joining our alliance?” Oyakata requested, awakening him out of his thoughts. “Of course Master.” Despite starting off on the wrong foot, he did as told, guiding you straightforwardly in detail and didn’t stop if you wanted to pause to look at something. His pace was haste, deciding to take in your surroundings while you had the chance to. Many children participated in the organization; the uniforms were coed between either wearing pleated skirts or hakama pants with the same gakuran top you saw Sanemi in. They appeared to differentiate in colors, Sanemi’s a green tint in the sunlight in the place of some of the darker ones others wore—navy blue, purple, black or even a brown. They also practiced kenjutsu ; where a bokken or wooden sword was used as a safe substitute for katanas for sparring.

- Oyakata informed you about the Demon Slayer Corps so as you were briefly toured, you would understand the things you looked at. But seeing the children risking their lives after the cost of their families, awfully reminded you of your siblings. Back at home, your parents would mostly tend to the domestic chores as they relied on you as one of their warriors to protect the village. Then, they could keep watch of the rest of their children, often something you felt the necessity of doing. Watching over your family. When you noticed Sanemi left you, you went to try and interact with the rest of the Hashira; introducing yourself, producing conversation and helping out with chores if you could.

- You made the most conversation with Shinobu Kocho, Insect Hashira. She displayed a laid back demeanor, a smile frequently present on her face which exhibited a bright and cheery nature. But it facaded her enjoyment of teasing others to the point of being rather sadistic through the jokes she made. You weren’t sure to shocked or to laugh, afraid of how the others would see you. “Oh it’s ok, you can laugh. Especially in front of Tomioka.” She giggled. You breathed a sigh of relief and let a half suppressed snigger peep from your lips.

- Then you cleared your throat, “Is it okay if I ask you about Sanemi Shinazugawa?” Shinobu looked at you questionably, “Why? Are you afraid of him? Trust me, as scary as he may want to make himself look, it’s just a front.” “No, he doesn’t scare me. I initiated a fight with him earlier because of some of the things he said. My people didn’t need to be saved by him, especially if it would’ve been only to disrespect us. It’s like a smack in the face of how we’ve been raising ourselves to be true warriors.” “Yes, I apologize for Shinazugawa. He can do things out of line, unfortunately more times than we know it. But his cold exterior armors a soft soul. I’ve treated his younger brother, Genya; he can be just as ill-tempered and non-cooperative as his brother but he is apparently shy around women, especially my girls, Sumi, Kiyo, and Naho. He told me that he was in search of Sanemi, eldest of seven children, after their family was killed. He remembers Sanemi saved him from their mother but became isolated because he labeled him as a murderer in panic. Up to now, since he is little brother, Shinazugawa throws harsh rebukes at him because he cares for him. Think of it like a bully, most times they’re bowling you by hurting and insulting you, but it can also be their way of showing interest in you or an attraction in the way of giving you a hard time.”

- “I understand. Thank you, Shinobu.” You bowed. “Your welcome, Y/N.” Unbeknownst to you, Sanemi heard your conversation nearby, since he randomly felt he should locate where you were. Later, you bowed to Oyakata when you were on your way back home. He welcomed you to feel free of accompanying them anytime you wanted, they had open arms if you needed protection. Shortly after you left, you felt someone yank you by your arm. You quickly freed yourself by twisting your hand out of the opening where their thumb and finger met.

- “Since when did you have permission to touch me? And why are you trying to pull me somewhere no one can see us?” You questioned Sanemi. “Don’t think that I like you. Don’t think that after what that girl told you that you know me or that I won’t pull my punches.” He warned. “Trust me, I wouldn’t think for a day that I would stoop myself so low.” “And what do you mean by that?” “However you take it. I wouldn’t be concerned about someone who sees me like anyone else or be a doormat.” “Then why are you putting yourself as an example if it wouldn’t affect you?” “Cause it wouldn’t.” “Maybe it would if you’re trying to morally describe yourself.” “Why are you here? Just to make a threat or to walk me home? I can take of myself thank you, remember by how I bested you in combat.”

- “Oh please, I was the one who ended up on top. If our fight lasted you would be talking to that girl for a different reason.” He said, making you laugh. “That’s quite optimistic of you but never underestimate your enemy Shinazugawa. We shall have a rematch, no?” He smirked with a devilish grin, “If that’s your death wish then I shall be your reaper.” His response entertained you and during your exchange, he ended up walking with you home regardless. “Thank you for the laughs Sanemi. It will be fun when I fight you here tomorrow.” You winked.

- That next day, upon his visitation, he attempted to surprise attack you. You successfully dodged it, “Nice day we’re having.” “Hmm.” Then got a view of each other. He noticed you wore a white kosode with sode-kukuri (cords) through the sleeves and opened shoulders. Muna-himo (strings) were attached to each lapel and tied in front to keep the garment closed with your black hakama. He wondered if you could’ve changed into more of a practical outfit because of what he commented. Yet, you moved just as fast and did well at keeping him from getting close enough to impact you. He found an opening and kicked you in the face, causing you to fall.

- “I have a feeling you like being on top of me.” You said to him as he tried to tower you. You rolled your torso into a circular path on the ground and twirled your legs into a v shape. When you tripped Sanemi, it was your turn to crawl on top of him out of humorous reasons. “I like where this fight is heading.” He mischievously thought. “Yeah for me. I disarmed you and you’re in my submission.” He chuckled, “Cause I let you, that’s what makes the fun of it.” He winked then bucked his hips into you. You gasped, taking the opportunity to punch him continuously in his face. Not because of what he did but for being merciless from pulling each other’s punches.

- He didn’t put his guard up but lets the blood trickle from his nose and into the junction of his lips. “Not a scratch.” He smugly smiled, licking the blood away from above his lip. When you treated him afterwards, he formed more respect for you and subconsciously allowed his feelings to pervade his system. He made more nonsensical jokes to hear you laugh and listened to your opinions more than his usual stubborn self. He alarmed you of some of the threats that were coming your way, indirectly inviting you to join him on his missions. It built cooperation between you two, as well as more of a bond than constantly contesting everything. Although, a time when you argued, you hugged him as a way to reassure him that you cared and considered him as your friend. It made you laugh to see him resist from hugging you back.

- You showed more of a friendlier side to him as you would to your family. You introduced him to your siblings which joyfully reminded him of his family, including Genya. One time, while you two were watching the sunset, you saw that one of your little sisters was hesitating to come talk to him. “It’s ok, he won’t bite.” You encouraged her, pulling his attention towards her. She showed him numerous flowers and asked him questions of what was his favorite things. It warmed your heart to see a compassionate side of him as he answered all of them, including you as answer. That made it much aware to you of his feelings for you.

- “Did you know what I meant?” He asked you that night. “Yes, thank you, you’re my favorite too.” You smiled. “But I mean it,” He said, giving you back your hug like you did before. “I hesitated to accept the feeling of love because I don’t want to lose anyone again.” You looked up from the warmth of his chest and into the conveyance of his eyes; now filled with adoration and worship. “Trust me love, I’m not going anywhere.” And you two kissed.

Thank you for reading! I apologize for the late response, I’ve been busy a lot but I wanted to do as you requested! I wish everyone a wonderful day!🤎🍫

[disast3rtransp0rt]

"Things are worse than I thought."

okay Anon. Idk where this idea came from but here's mermaid Anakin and castaway Obi-Wan. Ambiguous time period.

---

Day 5

Obi-Wan sat up slowly and glanced around. He carved another notch in the wooden support pole of his lean-to. Five marks, one for each day he’d been alone on this apparently uninhabited island - at least there were plentiful freshwater ponds and edible fruits available near the shore.

That morning, however, there was something new in Obi-Wan’s environment. A small pile of fish lay in the sand a few feet away from his shelter, neatly stacked atop one another in an alternating pattern (obviously done to keep them from falling over). There was a thick indent in the sand about two feet wide that led from the edge of the water to the pile of fish.

Obi-Wan was grateful for the protein and cooked them hurriedly, practically moaning at the full feeling in his stomach after going so long without proper nourishment. The castaway wasn’t sure what kind of sea-creature had been intelligent enough to know that he needed food, much less leave it for him, but he wanted to thank them for the help. He had been raised with manners, after all. 

He arranged a small pile of juicy red berries at the edge of the water just before nightfall, making sure to keep them above the tidal line (the name of the berries escaped him but he knew they were edible - his grandmother had cultivated them in her cottage garden one dreadfully boring summer). He wrote “Thank you” in the sand next to the fruit and returned to his shelter to sleep.

Day 7

The creature came again in the night and left another pile of food for Obi-Wan. Different, slightly larger fish this time. The meat was fatty and gave the castaway enough energy to enter the forest and scavenge for better building materials. He would need to make a more permanent shelter, since rescue didn’t seem imminent.

When he returned to the beach dragging a pile of long bamboo shoots behind him, Obi-Wan nearly screamed. Another man had washed ashore and was laying waist-deep in the ocean, his legs obscured by the gently lapping water.

He darted forward, hooking his hands beneath the man’s biceps and tugging him up onto the sand, looking him over for any sign of injur-

“Hey!” the not-quite-man cried, wrenching free of Obi-Wan’s grasp. “What in Poseidon’s garden do you think you’re doing?”

The castaway dropped his hands back to his sides. The creature flipped onto his stomach and glared up at Obi-Wan with eyes even bluer than the see he must inhabit. “You’re... You’re a...”

“I’m a merman,” the creature huffed. “Great job noticing. My name is Anakin, by the way.”

“Obi-Wan,” the human murmured. The last thing he heard before he hit the sand was Anakin’s concerned shout.

Day 12

Anakin brought him a few fish on a daily basis and Obi-Wan repaid him by answering his myriad of questions about the human world. The human discovered that Anakin could read and write in Basic, knew a few vague facts about human culture, and sang beautifully. He was quick-witted, kind, and endlessly curious.

They sat near the water’s edge, a small fire built on Obi-Wan’s opposite side to keep him warm. The chill of the evening air didn’t seem to bother Anakin at all. The merman was looking at him with bright eyes, “Can you really dance?”

“Do you want me to show you?”

“Please, Obi?”

Obi-Wan usually hated it when people shortened his name to just the first half, but with Anakin he couldn’t bring himself to mind. He stood from the sand and demonstrated the first few steps of a waltz, spinning and pausing exactly how he’d been instructed by his childhood tutor. “It’s rather difficult to demonstrate the proper form without a partner, I’m afraid.”

“I wish I could dance with you,” Anakin sighed, flopping back into the sand. He hated when the particles got stuck in his curls but never resisted the urge to be melodramatic. The longing in his voice made Obi-Wan’s heart ache, so he rest a comforting hand on the merman’s tanned forearm.

“I think you’d make a lovely dancer, dear one.”

Day 34

Obi-Wan felt warm, damp fingers caressing his cheek but continued to breathe deeply, feigning sleep.

“Oh, Obi-Wan,” Anakin breathed, as if he were a penitent at confession, “I wish you didn’t ever have to leave me. I wish you knew how much I love you and want to keep you in my arms. I wish... I wish that I could go with you when you return to your world above the water.”

Before he could open his eyes and confront the beautiful merman about his own growing feelings, Obi-Wan heard the tell-tale splash of Anakin sliding back into the sea.

His dreams that night were anything but pleasant.

Day 40

“He’s alive!” Obi-Wan nearly jumped out of his skin. A small gang of unfamiliar sailors swarmed the beach. Two of them remained near the shore, securing the lifeboat. A galleon was anchored just past the drop-off, its white sails sagging.

“Hello?” Obi-Wan blinked owlishly at the intruders.

“What’s yer name, lad?” one of the older sailors asked, clapping Obi-Wan on the shoulder.

“Doctor Obi-Wan Kenobi. I was a passenger aboard the Republic ship The Jedi when it was caught in a storm.”

“He’s a survivor from the The Jedi!” the man called to his compatriots. Obi-Wan found himself being herded onto the lifeboat and dragged back to the Republic ship, but his watery eyes never left the slumped figure of his beloved merman hiding just behind the rocks.

He’d never gotten the chance to confess his feelings.

Coruscant University, 2 Months Later

“Doctor Kenobi,” the Dean knocked on Obi-Wan’s open door even as he peaked his head inside the office. “I hate to interrupt your grading period, good doctor, but there’s a visitor here to see you. Says he was approved to study under you as part of an exchange program?”

“I don’t remember-” Obi-Wan started to say, before he saw the familiar golden curls bouncing over the Dean’s left shoulder. “Anakin?”

“Hello, Dr. Kenobi,” Anakin stepped past the Dean and into the room. On two long, lovely, human legs. “I finally figure out how to take that class you suggested.”

“I’m so incredibly glad,” Obi-Wan smiled. The Dean dismissed himself without a word, wary of the way the two men hadn’t broken eye contact. “I’m so sorry that I left without a goodbye. I was so scared when I returned home, I thought I’d never get to tell you that-”

“I love you,” they said together. Obi-Wan laughed and swept the merman up into his arms, pressing eager kisses wherever his lips could reach. “I love you so much, Anakin.”

“I love you more, Obi-Wan.”

The merman pressed their lips together eagerly, melting into Obi-Wan’s possessive embrace. The older man ran his hands up and down Anakin’s sides, holding him close as if to keep him from disappearing again. All he asked was: “How?”

“It’s a long story,” Anakin chuckled. Obi-Wan settled in a chair near the fireplace and pulled the merman down onto his lap.

Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around Anakin’s waist and nuzzled against his collarbone. “I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

[dorizardthewizard]

The Revival of Akillian: Chapter 10

Okay, there’s a few things that need to be addressed with this chapter so check out the reblogs for translator notes!

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Prologue / Chapter 9 / Chapter 11

10. CRUEL MEMORIES

“We remind everyone that the head of Sonny Backbones, the leader of the Pirates, is still priced at two million standard credits. For a more beautiful Galaxy, help Technoid!”

After this cheerful message, which shows Sonny Blackbones’s square head from the front and in profile, the advertisement break ends and the match resumes between the Wambas and the Pirates. This friendly match, “sponsored by Technoid” (despite the participation of the Pirates, long-time enemies of the company), is in its second half. The score is still a draw despite the obvious technical superiority of the Wambas. However, the Pirates seem to know in advance their strategy and their special moves, and come close to cheating thanks to their flux, the Seed of Shiloe, which allows them for a brief moment to produce decoys – projected doubles of themselves. This destabilizes the Wamba players… but they are not left out, compensating for the “treachery” of the Pirates by speed and agility which, on their own ground, the Jungle Stadium, they use profusely with their flux, the Roar, which expresses itself over their bodies in the form of golden sparks. In addition, they seem to be having a lot of fun, which is not the case with the Pirates who, despite their tricks, are falling behind.

“...an incredible leap, almost a somersault that Wouwambou just performed!” cries the excited announcer. “He kept the ball anyway, his clawed feet give him a definite advantage over his opponent - rather his opponents, it looks like there are two of them... no, he has only one defender against him. Wouwambou makes a very long pass to Lun-Zaera who was just waiting for this opportunity! She easily escapes the Pirate defender by leaping over, her control over the flux is remarkable, that of the ball too! Lun-Zaera rushes towards the goal, nothing can stop her, it seems, but here is the number 8 Pirate - a substitute? - who tackles the ball, too late, Lun-Zaera has flown off with the ball at her foot, she performs a sort of pirouette, she is back on the ground, it seems that she has lost the ball... but no, the ball is in the net, it’s a goooal! The Pirate goalkeeper didn't see it coming and I admit neither did I, that’s how fast it was! 1-0 for the Wambas! ...”

Aarch turns off the TV and turns to his team, sprawled out on benches in the lounge cabin of the Tanaga, his personal ship (still piloted by Clamp, the Scrap he intended for this role having proven to be totally incompetent).

- As you know, Lun-Zaera is the star striker of the Wambas team. Her speed is legendary, so beware of that in particular... what did I just say, Thran?

- Huh? Uh...

Sitting next to his dozing brother, Thran leans over a small device he had cobbled together from bits and pieces of various components, salvaged from the Arena Stadium construction site.

- 67 hundredths of a second, - he says, his eyes wide. - From what I recorded, Lun-Zaera scored that goal in 67 hundredths of a second! (He looks up at Aarch who is scrutinizing him, arms crossed, brow furrowed) You said she’s very fast, sir. My device proves it!

- Well, Thran, you’ll be against her in no time!

Aarch shows the team a small golden-brown satellite that orbits near the large and beautiful planet Wamba, whose emerald jungles appear beneath mottles of iridescent clouds.

- You can see the Ibo moon through the portholes. From its light, the Wambas derive their flux, the Roar. It gives them greater agility than usual...

- What about us, sir? – interrupted D’jok. - Why do we have no flux? It was the Breath of Akillian, right?

- Yeah, but it disappeared because of the great ice age, - Thran explains. - The Catastrophe caused a shift in the orbital axis of our planet, which upset the entire magnetic field, and the Breath vanished. It’s scientifically proven, isn’t it, sir?

- That is the circulating theory, yes. - confirms Aarch.

- But sir, - insists D’jok. - What Tia can do with the ball, is that thanks to the Breath?

- Yes, that’s right…

Tia looks down, intimidated, as if D’jok were talking about a flaw she might have. Sitting across from her, Rocket smiles at her.

- But why is she the only one with it? - asks Thran. - Especially since she is from Obia!

- You all have it in each of you, I’m sure you do, - says Aarch. - But it won’t be enough for you to wake it up like Tia; you will also have to learn to channel it, to tame it. That will undoubtedly be the most difficult part...

- In the meantime, - intervenes Micro-Ice. - We will have to manage without it, is that it? Scoring goals in... how many did you say, Thran? A fraction of a second in any case. Well! No need to worry either way, it’s just a friendly match, right?

Aarch comes to stand in front of him.

- You will learn that there are no insignificant matches, Micro-Ice. You and the others have only one desire and that is to play on this team. And I want this team to go far, very far. So, you absolutely have to play to win!

- But if you don’t want to win, Micro-loser, - laughs Sinedd. – We’ll be fine without you!

Aarch turns around to face him.

- We won’t win anything without everyone on board, Sinedd, and you especially would do well to remember it! I already told you, you play too selfishly, but football is a team sport! Understand?

Sinedd frowns and pouts, but refuses to respond. Aarch continues:

- I can’t wait to see you in action on the pitch. In the meantime, rest, because you will need all your strength!

With these words, he joins Clamp in the cockpit. Sinedd takes his set of GF-Cards out of his pocket and takes a seat at a table.

- Anyone up for a game? Who wants to get demolished?

Thran, D’jok and Rocket go looking for their own cards and join Sinedd around the table. Micro-Ice goes to sit next to Mei, who ostensibly ignores him. She gazes sullenly at the planet Wamba growing in the portholes. It seems like it’s hellishly hot down there, full of mosquitoes, spiders, biting insects… Tia prefers to isolate herself in a sleeping cabin. Ahito, well, he doesn’t need to isolate himself to fall sleep.

Sinedd deals the cards with a smirk: sure of his victory or already cheating? Thran contemplates his deck with dreamy eyes.

- What’s the matter, Thran? – remarks Sinedd. - Have you never seen GF-Cards before or what?

- Do you realize that if this works out, one day we too will have our faces on GF-Cards? I can just imagine it... Thran, 300 caps, top defender on the... uh... the... what is our team called, guys?

- Hey, but… wait a second… you’re right! - D’jok realizes. - We don’t even have a name! A great team must have a great name! What should we call ourselves?

- Your turn, D’jok. – prompts Sinedd.

- Uh… - wonders Thran. - Galactik Bats isn’t bad, right? Or… uh, I don’t know, The Fireballs?

- Yeah… - says Sinedd, scooping up the cards. - Me, I’d say something like the Zeroes, or the Broken Feet!

Clamp’s voice echoes in the living room:

- Kids, get back to your seats and buckle your seatbelts. We’ve arrived!

- Did you hear that, Sinedd? Buckle it! - snaps Micro-Ice.

***

True to their reputation for hospitality, the Wambas had invited Aarch’s team to feast in the Council of Elders building, the equivalent of the Akillian Confederation. “Equivalent” is a big word, because comparing this building to the luxurious Confederation building would be liked comparing a cave to a castle: it is a large hut all made of wood and bamboo, with a thatched roof and walls of plant fibers, surrounded by a path of planks held up by long poles. It is nestled in a lush jungle, formed by gigantic trees (beside which Akillian Cedryans look like shrubs), whose enormous roots become entangled with the vegetation that masks the ground. Under this majestic foliage grow many bushes, giant ferns and mushroom trees where vines and climbing plants intermingle. Mangroves and swamps with uninviting brackish water are all around, which bathe in the heat and humidity of an oven. An abundance of wildlife rustles there, a crescendo of birdsong, cries, chirps, cackles, and buzzes of swarms of insects... fortunately kept at a distance by fragrant smoke suspended from the poles. On the other hand, the heat overwhelms the Akillians who sweat profusely, feeling shortness of breath and thickened blood.

A large common table has been set up on the platform, where they share the meal with their future opponents; pleasant, courteous and considerate, like all Wambas. The table is chaired by Wakura, Patriarch of the Council of Elders, a post similar to that held by Adium in the Akillian Confederacy. But unlike Adium, a young bureaucrat, Wakura was once a great footballer, who repeatedly led the Wambas to victory. Servants dressed in lavender - a sign of their belonging to a lower caste - bring trays of steaming food. Smoky and fragrant… a bizarre, sour, and spicy smell. D’jok grimaces.

- Do you know what the Wambas eat? - he asks Micro-Ice at the table next to him, looking worried.

- Yeah, exactly. Mimouk, the Cyclops cook at the Cafeteria, told me about it one day... that’s why I’m freaking out!

A servant sets a dish in front of them that looks like a gray, hairy mash, decorated with a sort of large strawberry, vaguely reminiscent of a human head. The smell rises to the nose like mustard, only more pungent.

- Good… good luck and bon appétit, Micro-Ice.

- You too…

D’jok grabs his wooden spoon and goes to help himself. He holds back, his eyes wide.

- But what is this thing?! (The “mash” just shuddered, making a sort of hiss) Am I hallucinating, or does it move like it’s alive?

- Uh... well... from what Mimouk said... - begins Micro-Ice with a downright disgusted expression.

Someone bends over the dish and plucks the “strawberry” with his three fingers. This is Wouwambou, the captain of the Wambas - bright green eyes, pearly gray complexion - apparently well recovered from his flu on Akillian.

- It’s called Blatch: a puree of fresh spiders in Colmache oil. A real treat! (He stuffs the thing into his mouth - it cracks and squeals) You’ll see, it’s really delicious.

- We don’t doubt it for a second… - Thran grimaces, disgusted.

- Or a very small fraction of a second, - adds Micro-Ice. - Just a few hundredths, eh, Thran?

Wakura taps his goblet with a knife that was used to cut up a local fruit, demanding silence. He then gets up:

- My very dear friends! I am happy to welcome you on behalf of all the Wamba people. I am particularly touched to welcome the team that Aarch has just formed to our planet (he turns to Aarch, who is sitting next to him). Aarch, you should know that with us, you are at home!

- Thank you, Wakura. It is an honor for me to be invited to your table.

- And now, dear friends, I propose a toast to your health! - adds the Patriarch, raising his goblet.

The Wambas gulp down the contents of theirs. The Akillians feel obligated to imitate them. It is a whitish, mucus-like liquid with a pronounced muddy taste.

- Yuck... - belches D’jok. - What is this stuff again?

Lun-Zaera, seated in front of him, leans over, licking her lips.

- It’s Gatcho slime soaked in the mud of the backwater. Isn’t that divine?

- Uh… I think I’m going to throw up… - replies Thran, suddenly pale.

- You may not know, - Wakura continues. - But your coach has been with us for a long time. You could even say he rebuilt himself here, mentally and physically. We fed him, we took care of him! This is why the bond between Aarch and the Wambas is so strong...

Aarch lowers his head. This innocent and kind evocation of Wakura’s brings back to mind some very cruel memories...

It was ten years ago. A group match qualifying for the Galactik Football Cup. Aarch was attacking, although Artegor Nexus claimed otherwise. Overflowing with the Shadow’s Smog that spread a trail of black ink behind him, rage in his heart, hatred in his eyes, he rushed like a madman towards the Cyclops’ goal.

“Aarch attacks with a startling breakthrough, he decided to take his chances! The Cyclops defense have sensed the danger and decide to cut Aarch off in his tracks!”

Massive and determined, united by a telepathic bond, the three Cyclops defenders rushed to meet him. Without deviating an inch, without attempting any tricks, Aarch hit them head-on. The Smog he gave off prevented them from using their flux, the Psycho-Bug, which boosts their perception and cohesion. He chuckled, amused at how he had hurt them.

“Aarch fought off the Cyclops effortlessly! What determination in this player!”

It wasn’t determination, it was fury. The Smog was also confusing his mind, like an overdosed doping drug. He no longer thought, no longer saw, no longer respected anything. With Artegor Nexus dragging him down this dangerous slope, he had become a war machine destined to pulverize opposing goals. He passed to Artegor, immediately marked by two Cyclops, who returned the ball to Aarch, who resumed his inexorable charge, jostling and knocking down an opposing player.

“Foul!” He heard through his earphones - but he didn’t listen, he ran, blind and deaf. Another Cyclops tried to stop him, having seen the referees flashing. Screaming in fury, Aarch crushed him, suffocating him under an overflow of Smog. He went to shoot at the goal... the ball disappeared: there was a foul, so play had stopped. His dark energy no longer finding an outlet, it spilled out of him like a hemorrhage of ink. He rolled on the floor, drooling and growling. The Smog escaped, flowing from him in huge black streaks. Lying on the ground, his arms outstretched, he still writhed, wanting to get up, finish the match, finish the Cyclops, but he could not… the Smog flowed, he groaned, losing the Breath, his life… his teammates and even his adversaries ran up, worried, a flying stretcher descended from above… the Smog flowed… and everything went black.

***

The blackness lasted several months… the first memory that came back to his mind was this great yellow sun that warmed his eyelids, filtered by foliage which seemed to him to be several hundred meters high. Around Aarch, wooden buildings, thatched roofs… he was lying almost naked on a mat spread on a bed of rough planks, a brightly colored cushion under his head. Birds were singing, insects chirping. A beautiful young woman with short brown hair, big blue eyes and full lips stepped out of a house of wood and cloth, bringing with her a plate of steaming vegetables. For a moment, Aarch believed in heaven. He smiled at this divine apparition...

- So, how is our patient today? Are you feeling better?

Later, Aarch learned that this woman was called Simbai, Dame Simbai. She was a Human exiled to the planet Wamba, where she learned the secrets of native plants and medicines. It was she who, by her mark of care, patience and concern, had succeeded in restoring to Aarch his physical strength, his sanity and his memory… and it was Clamp, his old and faithful friend Clamp, who had torn from the Shadow hospital where he had been taken, where the local doctors proved powerless to contain this hemorrhage of Smog: they had never seen something like that before… later, when he felt better, Dame Simbai explained to him that she believed the Breath of Akillian and the Smog of Obscurantis were two incompatible fluxes, which had competed within Aarch to somehow “dominate” him. The Smog had won him over after his long stay on the Shadows’ planet, but it had made him furious, devoured by an inordinate ambition, a rage to win that only occurred among the greatest dictators or warlords... Artegor apparently fared better, no doubt because the Breath of Akillian was weaker in him. But hadn’t he, too, become arrogant and ambitious, driven by an obsession to win?

- Are you okay, Aarch? Aarch?

He tears himself away from contemplating the mangrove swamp, and the species of dragonflies the size of pigeons that frolic there in a colorful ballet dance.

- Simbai! You have no idea how happy I am to see you!

She has aged a bit; her brown hair has grown, her big blue eyes are protected by small glasses, but her lips are still so attractive, her smile so charming, and her waist, surrounded by a wide red belt, still so fine...

- Are you surprised to see me? I still live here, don’t you remember?

She leans over the edge of the wooden pontoon, dipping her hand in the warm yellow water of the backwater.

- Yes, of course. I haven’t lost my memory again, you know (Aarch joins her, kneels on the ground, then grabs her wet hand). Dear Dame Simbai… (He places a hand over her fingers) Dame Simbai… - he repeats in a tone of respect, deference… and love.

In Dame Simbai’s ear, a small shiny clasp beeps, audible only to her: ​​her permanent link with the Flux Society. Master Zimbra thus lets them know about her encounter with Aarch... as expected.

***

In front of the entrance porch of the large hut of the Council of Elders, Tia, sitting on a rock, also contemplates the backwater. She would have been swimming there just to cool off, but she wonders with some anxiety what dreadful beasts could be splashing about in these silty waters. Besides the sweaty heat that puts her to sleep, she feels a bit heavy, has a rumbling belly and the unpleasant feeling that the Blatch is still wriggling in her stomach. What atrocious food! ...she ate it all the same, because her parents always told her that she should be able to eat anything: “If one day you become an ambassador like us, know that it is extremely rude to refuse the food offered to you by the peoples you visit. So, you will give us the pleasure of eating without complaining what your housekeeper is preparing for you!” Well, it’s not deadly, if Aarch has lived here for several years… for an old man like him, he looks pretty good.

Wouwambou takes a short stroll on the path, in order to take advantage of the relative coolness - only thirty-five degrees today - and to digest the succulent Blatch which he had eaten a little too much of. He suddenly stops, noticing Tia on the rock in front of the entrance. The green irises of his eyes widen, a sign of intense emotion. It’s her! …“She must not be able to play anymore. Never again. Am I clear enough?” Oh yes, Artegor Nexus was very clear. And Wouwambou, that fool, accepted the money. He was able to pay for the doctor, the medicine, and even bring credits to his family. Now he has to honor his end of the bargain... he does not think for a second to shy away, because the Wambas are not like that: they keep their promises, even if it would cost them their lives. But this young Human looks so kind and so fragile… why should Wouwambou prevent her from pursuing her passion? Why must he hurt her, her soul and body? Ah, cruel fate! How devious and wicked humans are! He slips away, feeling shame; he especially doesn’t want to have to talk to little Tia, to bond with her - only to destroy her afterwards. This is totally against the Wamba spirit.

Coming out of the house in search of a bit of coolness, Rocket descends the steps leading to the pontoon, and joins Tia at the foot of the rock. She stands up quickly, ready to flee, then relaxes: Rocket is not an enemy, he does not mean harm to her. As long as he doesn’t touch her, he’s fine.

- Tia… you haven’t told the others about what you know, I hope?

- What are you talking about?

- You didn’t tell them I was Aarch’s nephew, did you?

- No, of course not, come on!

She accompanies her words with a smile and sits down, losing her gaze in the depths of the jungle. Rocket in turn climbs onto the rock and sits next to her, dripping with sweat.

- Well, that’s good! That way, we will each have our little secret...

Sharing secrets is a good start to sharing other things afterwards, such as intimate moments, he thinks. Can he afford to take Tia’s hand, or is it still too soon? But his remark does not produce the desired effect at all:

- What are you talking about, Rocket? - Tia gets angry. - I have nothing to hide!

- What? But… uh… - he stammers, unsettled. - Your arrival on Akillian...

- Excuse me, miss… - a voice echoes behind them (it is one of the Wamba servants, he seems rather old). – Haven’t we bumped into each other somewhere?

- I don’t think so! - Tia answers sharply.

- I’ve worked on many planets, and I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you before. - insists the servant. – Aren’t you the daughter of... oh, what’s their name? This couple of diplomats?

- I’m telling you, no! - retorts Tia, who jumps down from the rock and walks away briskly.

Rocket gets up in turn, then glares at the Wamba: this idiot screwed everything up! Embarrassed by the hostile expression, the servant walks away muttering.

- It’s her, I’m sure. My memory never deceives me.

[deepesharya299]

[southeastasianists]

Last September, I drove for four hours from Jakarta to a small town in western Java, staying one night in a Javanese-styled hotel at the foot of Mt. Ciremai, a 3,000-meter volcano on Java. When I got to Cisantana, I journeyed down a stone path, looking for the Mother Mary shrine. It was a welcome surprise to see this Catholic shrine, equipped with a tropical version of the Via Dolorosa—the route believed to have been taken by Jesus through Jerusalem to Calvary—and supported by electricity coming from a nearby Islamic boarding school.

The presence of such a shrine was all the more surprising in West Java, one of Indonesia’s most conservative Muslim provinces, where attacks against Christians, Ahmadis, and other religious minorities frequently make headlines in local news. Attacks against women’s rights, private gay parties, and transgender crowds are not uncommon.

I continued walking past avocado farms, a banana plantation, and cornfields and finally came upon an open space where a handful of Sundanese women and men were working to construct a tomb.

They were very pleasant. “It’s a quiet day today,” an elderly man said to me. They were taking a break and welcomed me to sit in their bamboo hut with a fire stove.

A woman showed me phone videos of the work they did with more than 100 volunteers, who used wooden poles and bamboo to bring several huge stones from a nearby river to this spot, which is inaccessible by road. They called the tomb “Batu Satangtung” or the “Human Stone,” intended for their elderly religious leader and his wife.

I imagined the makers of Stonehenge might have used similar methods two or three millennia ago in England.

The Sundanese people are from West Java, a province of about 40 million. They are the second largest ethnic group in Indonesia, after the neighbouring Javanese. The volunteers I met are not only Sundanese but of the ethnic-religious group Sunda Wiwitan. The name literally means “early Sunda” or “real Sunda.” Its practitioners assert that Sunda Wiwitan has been part of the Sundanese way of life since before the arrival of Hinduism and Islam.

Why were they building the tomb here? Ela Romlah, the woman with the videos, told me that in 1937 and 1938, when Mt. Ciremai was expected to erupt, Pangeran Madrais—then the leader of this group—and his followers climbed the mountain, carrying a set of gamelan instruments. He and hundreds of his musicians played the gamelan on the mountain for months. They believed their music and prayer stopped the eruption. “They then set up a camp at the foot of the mountain. It was here in Curug Goong.”

Madrais was an inspirational cleric, interpreting old Sundanese and Javanese beliefs. He helped establish the community in 1925.

The Dutch colonial officials in charge at the time were not amused to see this kind of independent behaviour. They tried to prevent hundreds of Sundanese people from staying at Curug Goong. But they said nothing when Mt. Ciremai calmed down.

In August 1945, at the end of World War II, Indonesia’s independence leaders adopted a constitution that vowed to protect all Indonesian citizens equally. But they also reached a political compromise with conservative Muslims, including Wahid Hasjim, the chairman of the Nahdlatul Ulama. The agreement, designed to avoid setting up an Islamic state, established the Ministry of Religious Affairs to be “the bridge” between Muslims and the state. The compromise was called Pancasila.

In Garut, about four hours’ drive from Curug Goong, Islamist militants were not satisfied with this and declared the Darul Islam (Islamic State) movement in August 1949, vowing to implement their version of Sharia in Indonesia. From 1950 to 1958, Darul Islam conducted a failed guerrilla campaign in West Java that nonetheless attracted some popular support. They attacked not only the Indonesian military but also religious minorities.

In response, Wahid Hasjim, the minister of religious affairs, adopted a 1952 decree to differentiate between “kepercayaan” (faith) and “agama” (religion). In Indonesian vocabulary, “aliran kepercayaan” is officially used to cover multiple minor religions and spiritual movements. Hasjim decreed that “aliran kepercayaan” are “dogmatic ideas, intertwined with the living customs of various ethnic groups, especially among those who are still underdeveloped, whose main beliefs are the customs of their ancestors throughout the ages.”

Meanwhile, “agama” was defined according to monotheistic understandings. If a community is to be recognised as “religious,” it must adhere to “an internationally recognised monotheistic creed; taught by a prophet through the scriptures.” In this way the decree discriminates against non-monotheistic religions including Hinduism, Buddhism, Confucianism, Bahaism, Zoroastrianism and hundreds of local religions and spiritual movements in Indonesia.

In West Java, the Sunda Wiwitan people faced two serious challenges: the Darul Islam militants, who repeatedly intimidated and attacked them, and the Ministry of Religious Affairs, which actively tried to align “underdeveloped religions” such as theirs with Christianity or Islam.

In 1954, Darul Islam militants attacked the Sunda Wiwitan base in Kuningan. “They managed to burn our paseban (communal spaces) including the kitchen and the garages but fortunately not the main hall,” she said. “They forced our members to convert to Islam,” said Dewi Kanti, a great granddaughter of Madrais.

Similar intimidation and violence took place in neighbouring regencies Tasikmalaya, Banjar, and Garut. Dewi’s grandfather, Pangeran Tedja Buwana, who succeeded Madrais, fled Kuningan to Bandung.

Darul Islam also sent militants into Jakarta. On November 30, 1957, President Sukarno attended a school function at which a Darul Islam militant threw a grenade. Sukarno was unharmed, but six schoolchildren died.

Even after Darul Islam had been militarily defeated, eight Darul Islam militants mingled with a Muslim congregation during a prayer service inside the State Palace on May 14, 1962. They fired shots at Sukarno but missed, hitting one of his bodyguards and a Muslim scholar instead.

Muslim conservatives continued their opposition to smaller religions and spiritual movements. To placate hardliners, Sukarno banned the Indonesian Freemasons (Vrijmetselaren-Loge) along with six so-called “affiliates,” without providing evidence of any illegal links: the Bahai Indonesia organisation, the Divine Life Society, the Moral Rearmament Movement, the Ancient Mystical Order Rosae Crucis, the Rotary Club and the Democracy League, a non-religious organisation considered to be critical of Sukarno. The Rotary Club was accused of being a Zionist group; this was essentially  a conspiracy theory intended to connect the Freemasons to the six organisations.

In June 1964, the Kuningan authorities declared Sunda Wiwitan marriages illegal. The Kuningan prosecutor’s office later detained nine believers—a priest and eight young grooms who married in Sundanese Wiwitan rituals—for several months.

Anticipating increased hostilities, Tedja Buwana, who had returned from Bandung, left the Sunda Wiwitan faith, joined the Catholic church and used their paseban as a church. His move prompted 5,000 Sunda Wiwitan believers to convert to Catholicism, according to a researcher, Cornelius Iman Sukmana, himself a Catholic in Kuningan, who wrote a book about the Sunda Wiwitan and the Catholic church.

“It was an important decision. My grandfather saved thousands of our members from accusations of atheism,” said Dewi Kanti, referring to massacres of the communists between 1965 and 1969. “We can’t imagine what would have happened if he didn’t do it.”

Decades later, when the situation finally calmed down, many of these Sunda Wiwitan people, including Dewi Kanti, openly, but not offficially, re-converted to Sunda Wiwitan. Many who converted away from Christianity still go to Sunday mass and wear a cross around their necks. But inside their pockets, they also have Sunda Wiwitan pendants (a mountain, an eagle and two snakes).

“It is common in Kuningan to meet a single family with several religions,” said a vendor near the shrine.

As I walked down from the tomb, I wondered if these conversions and re-conversions prove that religious identity is not a zero-sum game. Identity is somehow imagined like a container with a fixed volume; if you have more of one identity, you have less of another. The Sunda Wiwitan people showed me that they could expand the container and have multiple identities. Thinking of it from this perspective, it is no surprise that I found a tropical Via Dolorosa and an Islamic boarding school near the tomb construction.

The 1965 Blasphemy Law

In downtown Kuningan, I drove to the paseban area, looking at the beautiful wooden hall and sipping a smooth ginger-lemon tea while chatting with Okky Satrio Djati, a Catholic Javanese, who had married the Sunda Wiwitan leader Dewi Kanti almost two decades earlier.

Djati and I used to work together in a newsroom during the Suharto era, publishing online samizdat and managing a mobile internet server. He went to Kuningan in 1998 when President Suharto was facing the mass protests at the height of the Asian economic crisis and helped hide political activists fleeing trouble.

Djati is now a Sunda Wiwitan member, speaking Sundanese, burning incense and sometimes performing midnight prayers in a nearby mountain. “He seems to be more Sundanese than me,” said Kanti, with a giggle.

Djati helps his wife deal with the discrimination that many Sunda Wiwitan members face. “My husband chose Catholicism as his official religion,” Kanti said. “But he practices Kejawen faith. If we insisted on marrying with our own (real) religions, we wouldn’t have birth certificates for our children, or at least, not with my husband’s name on them.”

Under Indonesia’s legal system, an ethnic believer cannot put their kepercayaan on the agama column of their national ID cards and thus cannot legally marry unless they change their kepercayaan to a recognised religion. In these cases, they leave a blank space in the religion column of the card and the civil registration office does not recognise paternity because the couples are not officially married.

Problems for religious minorities escalated in January 1965 when President Sukarno issued a decree that prohibited people from being hostile toward religions or committing blasphemy, which is defined as “abuse” and “desecration” of a religion. Sukarno decreed that the government would steer “mystical sects … toward a healthy way of thinking and believing in the One and Only God.” The decree, which gave official approval only to Islam, Protestantism, Catholicism, Hinduism, Buddhism and Confucianism, was immediately incorporated into the Criminal Code as article 156(a), with a maximum penalty of five years in prison. This has had disastrous effects until the present.

After deposing Sukarno, Suharto and his regime enforced the 1952 decree, which also requires a religion to have a holy book, leading to many bizarre stories of “religious alignment.” In Kalimantan, Dayak tribal leaders created the Panaturan –a collection of Dayak ancestral wisdom compiled into a single “holy book.” This required the creation of a clergy, so Dayak priests were trained. Religious rituals once held in fields and homes were moved into new worship halls called Balai Basarah. But most importantly, Kaharingan religious leaders had to choose a permitted religion to align with. They chose Hinduism, and thus became “Kaharingan Hindu.” But do not ask them about Ganesh or karma!

President Suharto’s wrote about his own Javanese Kejawen faith and Islam in his 1989 authorised biography. He described the syncretism common among the Javanese, conducting his Islamic prayers and celebrating Islamic holidays while also meditating in the sacred places of the Javanese traditions when he wanted to make major decision.

On September 7, 1974, three months before the East Timor invasion, Australian Prime Minister Gough Whitlam met Suharto in a villa in Mt. Dieng, Java Island, where Suharto was meditating in the Semar Cave, which is named after a mythical Javanese character with whom Suharto identified. That cave is still regarded as sacred. When I visited in 2019 it was locked—the villa is now a museum where photos of the Suharto-Whitlam meeting are displayed. Showing a more open mind towards religious minorities, in 1978, Suharto created a directorate within the Ministry of Education and Culture to service these local religions, telling the Indonesian parliament, “These kepercayaan are part of our national tradition, and need not to be opposed to agama.”

Yet even under a strongman, the Ministry of Religious Affairs, technically in charge of religions, resisted and maintained its opposition to local religions. They have refused to include kepercayaan within their domain and have promoted the inclusion of these believers into monotheistic realms. One reason Muslim groups refuse to recognise kepercayaan is their concern that the percentage of Muslims (88 percent) in Indonesia may decline, threatening their majority status.

In Kuningan, the new atmosphere under Suharto prompted the Sunda Wiwitan to re-convert to their native faith. Some of them legally left the Catholic church. Some maintain the practice of two religions, living with multiple identities. In 1982, the faith registered with the Ministry of Education and Culture’s directorate, seeking government services along with President Suharto’s accommodation of ethnic believers.

During the weekend I spent talking with Kanti, Djati and other Sunda Wiwitan believers, young and old, women and men, I witnessed the pain of the discrimination they faced and the cost of religious intolerance to people full of tolerance themselves.

It is fascinating to see a small religion resisting the power of the state. While Suharto took some important steps to protect religious freedom, it would have been better still if he had shown the moral courage to rescind the blasphemy law and the idiosyncratic and dangerous definition of religion from the Sukarno era. Sadly, Suharto’s successors have also failed to find the necessary political will.

Post-Suharto Discrimination

Jarwan is the only Sundanese man who stays overnight to guard the Sunda Wiwitan tomb in Curug Goong. He is a well-built man, keeping a motorcycle and several guard dogs in the bamboo hut.

“Someone has to stay here,” he said. “I am the youngest of the elders.”

In July 2020, the Kuningan government sealed off the tomb, declaring that the Sunda Wiwitan group had no permit to build “a monument.” Dozens of Sunni Muslim militants accompanied government officials to seal the tomb, saying that “the monument” is idolatrous.

Sunda Wiwitan members argue that the construction is not a “monument” but rather a “tomb” prepared for two of their elders, Dewi Kanti’s parents, Pangeran Djati Kusumah, and Emalia Wigarningsih. “It’s built on their own land. There is no regulation here to ban anyone to have cemeteries on our own land,” Djati said.

This is not an unfamiliar scene in many Muslim-majority provinces in Indonesia. Rights monitors have recorded hundreds of incidents like this involving Sunni militant groups, whose thuggish harassment and assaults on houses of worship and members of religious minorities have become increasingly aggressive. Those targeted include Ahmadis, Christians, and Shia Muslims. To give just one grisly example, on May 13-14, 2018, Islamist suicide bombers detonated explosives at three Christian churches in Surabaya. The bombings killed at least 12 and wounded at least 50 people. Thirteen suicide bombers also died.

In 2006 the government introduced regulations for building permits for houses of worship, prompting Muslim protesters to demand the closure of “illegal churches.” Hundreds of churches were closed. Some Christian congregations won lawsuits allowing them to build, but local governments simply ignored  court rulings. GKI Yasmin Protestant Church in Bogor was shut down in 2008. The congregation won the case at the Supreme Court in 2010 and then-President Yudhoyono asked the local government to reopen the church, but the city government defied the orders, without consequence.

By contrast, in 2010 the Religious Affairs Ministry listed 243,199 mosques throughout Indonesia, around 78 percent of all houses of worship. Recently an ongoing government census using drones and photography has registered at least 554,152 mosques, suggesting that the number of mosques has more than doubled in a decade.

The hardline Islamist preacher, Rizieq Shihab, has just returned to Indonesia from self-imposed exile in Saudi Arabia. He then called on his supporters “to behead blasphemers;” on November 27 an Islamist group attacked a village in Sigi, Sulawesi island, beheading a Salvation Army elder and three of his relatives. The attackers also burned a Salvation Army church and six other Christian-owned houses. No action has been taken against Rizieq for inciting violence, although police arrested him for breaking coronavirus restrictions.

Threats and speeches that incite violence are facilitated by Indonesia’s discriminatory laws and regulations. They give local majority religious populations significant leverage over religious minority communities. Compounding this, institutions including the Ministry of Religious Affairs, the Coordinating Board for Monitoring Mystical Beliefs in Society (Bakor Pakem) under the Attorney General’s Office, the Religious Harmony Forum, and the semi-official Indonesian Ulema Council have issued decrees and fatwas (religious rulings) against members of religious minorities, and frequently press for the prosecution of “blasphemers.”

Recent targets of the blasphemy law include three former leaders of the Gafatar religious community, prosecuted following the violent, forced eviction in 2016 of more than 7,000 members of the group from their farms on Kalimantan. A more prominent target was former Jakarta Governor Basuki “Ahok” Purnama, sentenced to a two-year prison term for blasphemy in a politically motivated case in May 2017. His longtime friend and ally, President Joko Widodo, simply stood by, afraid of the wrath of radical conservatives.

Violence against religious minorities and government failures to take decisive action negate guarantees of religious freedom in the Indonesian constitution and international law, including core international human rights conventions ratified by Indonesia. The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, which Indonesia acceded to in 2005, provides that “persons belonging to…minorities shall not be denied the right, in community with the other members of their group, to enjoy their own culture, to profess and practice their own religion.”

Throughout there have been occasional and modest examples of progress. The Rotary Club began operating again in 1970 after Sukarno died. In 2000, President Abdurrahman Wahid, the eldest son of Hasjim Wahid, cancelled President Sukarno’s 1962 decree banning the Freemasons and alleged associate organisations. After more than a dozen members were detained under the law during the New Order, the Bahai community has since been able to revive their network; however, they have been denied permission to build a temple so they continue to worship in private homes.

A major reform took place in 2006 when President Yudhoyono signed the Population Administrative Law, which no longer requires kepercayaan believers to convert to official religions to be listed on ID cards. But many civil servants are still not aware of or ignore the law, so religious minorities face problems if they refuse to choose one of the six religions that these officials recognise. “They simply say you’re a godless woman if you want to keep the [religion] column blank,” said Kanti, whose ID card has a blank space after the word agama.

In Kuningan, Indonesia’s Ombudsman finally helped mediate the dispute between the Sunda Wiwitan community and the local government, prompting the local authorities to lift the seal on the site and permitting the group to continue constructing the tomb.

The Ombudsman’s Office also helped the Dayak Kaharingan, pressuring several local governments to drop decades of discrimination. Ombudsman Ahmad Suaedy said in a webinar: “The key issue is that they [local religious groups] should get public service. The religious minorities should take courage to report their difficulties.”

In 2017, four Indonesian citizens petitioned the Constitutional Court, demanding the right to have their religions listed on their ID cards. They represented four Indigenous religions including the Marapu  (Sumba ), the Sapto Darmo (Java ), and the Parmalim and the Ugamo Bangsa Batak (Sumatra). On November 7, 2017, the court ruled in their favour.

But the Ulama Council objected to the decision. The Ministry of Home Affairs, which issues and manages ID cards, has since failed to implement the court decision. The Ulama Council argued that the ruling “hurts the feeling of the Islamic ummah,” but it is not clear on what legal grounds the ministry refuses to do its duty.

Separately, the Constitutional Court rejected three petitions to revoke the blasphemy law between 2009 and 2018, declaring that religious freedom was subject to certain limitations to preserve public order (former President Abdurrahman Wahid joined the lawsuit in 2009). Those limitations, the court stated in its 2010 decision, were to be defined by “religious scholars,” thereby outsourcing the rights of minorities to unelected members of the majority religion.

There are more than 180 ethnic-religious communities spanning from Sumatra to the smaller islands in eastern Indonesia. They are estimated to encompass around 10 to 12 million people, although the 2010 census recorded only 299,617 people or 0.13 percent of Indonesians claiming to be exclusively ethnic believers. It is still hard and even dangerous to publicly declare one’s religion in Indonesia.

Indeed, it is gruelling work to battle against both government officials and the Sunni ulama. Spineless politicians, feckless government bureaucrats, and narrow-minded ulama officials hamper the development of democracy and human rights in Indonesia.

Jarwan in Curug Goong knows very well that he cannot rely on the government or anyone else to protect the tomb he stands guard over. “We have seen this mistreatment and intimidation for decades. We must guard our sacred places ourselves.

[dazaii-sann]

DAZAI X CHUUYA FANFICTION: ONE-SHOT [DREAM]

A/N: Slight BEAST, Stormbringer, and Fifteen LNs spoilers!!

This is also posted in...

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1127082473-dazai-x-chuuya-fanfictions-one-shots-dream

and

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33771124

***

Nakahara Chuuya was robbed of the chance to experience dreaming. What existed beyond his tightly closed eyes was a world of nothingness. He was already used to it. After all, his very life started inside a bluish-black darkness where his shapeless figure had floated aimlessly, devoid of anything belonging to a human. 

Two blue worn-out orbs, like that of the color of daybreak, suddenly flung open, their owner’s vision landing on his apartment’s white ceiling. If that day was a normal day, he would probably drown in the sea of nostalgia, mentally hearing his old friend’s senseless shenanigans even before the sun had decided to peek above the eastern horizon. A series of knocks would also follow shortly, that certain person waiting outside inviting him to join a mission (and let Chuuya swim back home afterward)

But that day was definitely not a normal one…

Because Nakahara Chuuya had dreamed of something.

Or at least, that was what it felt like. 

He was not even sure if that was a dream. It could pass as a faint mirage, silently disintegrating the more he thought of it. Like an early morning mist, it disappeared before it could even take a proper form. Senseless figures, as illusory as a shadow, became phantoms lurking in his subconscious.

That dream didn’t have any shred of reality anyway. It was not a matter to concern himself into, he thought, trying to assure himself with negligence. 

He took the liberty to do his morning rituals. The slanted rays of early morning permeated through the unit’s window, illuminating the dimly lit interior. Chuuya didn’t even bother to flick his lights open. Donning his usual outfit, he took off. 

He soon reached the Port Mafia main headquarters. Passing through the hallway, his subordinates bowed a little and offered a small greeting. Some looked with complete admiration, others with imposed kindness but underlying envy. However, he paid no heed as he strode to his office. Slumping on his chair, he forcefully did a mountain of paperwork. 

It would be bad for an executive to slack off during working hours, right?

The whole day passed, him completely running out of gas. The dispute between the Port Mafia, Armed Detective Agency, and an American underground organization, the Guild, was still raging on. Fights between the three parties were rampant, countless streets in the city of Yokohama were all bent out of shape. Radial cracks were planted everywhere, utility poles prostrated like bamboos cowering in fear against the wind, and cadavers of men in black suits laid lifeless along the asphalt road stained in blood. It was all to protect the mafia’s main base and distribution channels, the organization’s soul itself.

Shortly after, the abduction of Q led to a big catastrophe. People were inflicted by the kid’s curse, including a myriad of mafia members. Thanks to the Armed Detective Agency’s efforts and Dazai’s No Longer Human, the city was saved temporarily. As long as Q was still in the Guild’s hands, they could still launch a wide-scale attack. The same thing would unfold over and over again like a song played on loop until all sane humans were wiped out. Francis Fitzgerald, the leader of the Guild, would then enjoy his cup of tea while looking below the hell he himself had created. 

That was why the esteemed leaders of the agency, Yukichi Fukuzawa, and the mafia, Mori Ougai, held a secret meeting that morning, all to propose an alliance and retrieve Q. The two forged an agreement and everything was settled. 

Chuuya, on the other hand, thought that it was rather unsettling.

It was fine as long as it would reduce the number of his people stuffed in cheap caskets and black body bags, but why did he have to work with his ex-partner for that day’s joint operation? The mere thought of it made him want to vomit blood. He could still remember how that fucker toyed with him in the mafia’s underground dungeon. That was an oddly annoying way to celebrate a reunion with your partner if he might add.

And just like that, nightfall came. 

The nearby moonlit forest gently danced along with the breeze’s unheard beat. An abandoned warehouse stood still in the middle, time chipping its remaining life away. Green mosses and ivies sprouted on its brick walls, scenery remained unchanged like the day before and even before that.

It was rather an uneventful night. 

Until everything was flooded by white lights... all focused on a lone, slender brunet.

An ambush. As predicted by the Guild’s skilled tactician.

But the event that unfolded next was definitely not included in the tactician’s report. 

A huge chunk of rock had fallen from the sky like a meteorite. Particles of dust were sent flying, obstructing the Guild frontline's sight. A small figure slowly walked near ground zero as if he was taking a carefree stroll in a crowded park. Guns were aimed at the unfazed newcomer. His eyes were only looking straight ahead, trying to find something - someone - midst his murky vision. 

The floating dust particles soon created a dim contour of a tall man. 

Chuuya’s piercing orbs were gazing straightly at the figure, but it was not looking at anything in particular. He was perceiving something different, something coming from the depths of his mind. 

Like a bubble rising in a stream, his dream that morning had started to resurface. 

Dazai, in that eccentric dream, was clad in a long, black trench coat with a knee-length, untied maroon scarf hanging over his shoulders. Dazai’s attire had reminded Chuuya of that of the boss.  He was slumping, face down, near the Port Mafia’s building. One would think that he already fell asleep in the middle of the road or was waiting for a car to crush his body and die on the spot (which sounded so extremely painful so he probably wouldn’t do it). 

He didn’t need a car to finish himself off anyway. 

His bandages covering his left eye were dyed in dark red, his maroon scarf soaked in blood the same color as it. Grey matters were scattered along the pavement. Like a still painting, Dazai laid in the middle of his own pool of blood, the wind gently caressing his pale face.

He was already gone. 

He had committed suicide.

As that dream continued to dissipate, the silhouette’s details got clearer and clearer. It could be compared to that one scene of Plato’s The Allegory of the Cave as a prisoner had started to view the world in a deeper sense of being. 

That beige trench coat.

That unkempt brown hair.

That body covered in bandages.

That asshole Dazai. Alive and kicking. 

Chuuya couldn’t help but heave a sigh, his lips slowly curving to a small smile. He soon reverted it back to its proper place after making their foes kiss the forest ground with gravity.

Facing Dazai, he took a deep breath, preparing himself to launch the first phase of their usual banter. 

“Let me set one thing straight. Once I’m done taking out the trash, you’re next.”

- END -

[anathewierdo]

Call of the Ocean  Chapter 10: She’s Real

Pairing: CEO!Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Mermaid!Reader

Word count: 5760

Chapter summary: After a heart-wrenching encounter with his ex and his Pop’s party, Dean goes back to Matagorda to get started on his new life and... well, I think the title kind of sort of gives away the rest 😉

Series summary: CEO of Winchester Auto Dean Winchester has had enough of the office life. With his father keeping him from what he wants to do, which is work on the plant floor, Dean decides to leave for a quiet life. In Matagorda, Texas, he finds something he never thought he would, a chance encounter with a mythical creature.

Call of the Ocean Masterlist

A/N: Ma dudes, life is crazy. It’s Independence Day here in Mexico, I just volunteered to be an online teacher for a social service program and I am swamped in assignments... It’s interesting, to say the least. This has all put a damper on all of my WIP’s and I am desperate to put something else out there besides this amazing series (’cause I do have some stuff I think y’all would like :) ). This series is a collaboration with @flamencodiva​ . Lovely text banners made by the amazingly talented @talesmaniac89​

Next chapter will be posted this saturday, september 19th :D

“Hi, Dean,” Cassie said before biting her lip. She seemed nervous. “I was hoping we could talk?” 

“I--” Dean wasn’t sure what to say as he brought his glass to his lips and took a sip. 

The amber liquid flowed down his throat giving him a slight burn. There was so much he wanted to say to her. Mostly he wanted to tell her to fuck off, but to make a scene in the ballroom would have all eyes on him. The last thing he needed was his family to be embarrassed.   

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Cassie,” he gave her a soft smile. “Go back inside, have a good time.”

“But Dean, I–”

“Please, Cassie. I said no. I– I can’t. Go back inside. Let me at least have a decent, calm night.”

“Five minutes, Dean,” she begged. “Just five minutes and I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

Dean pursed his lips and looked her in the eyes, trying to catch his breath and get a grip of himself without being too obvious. The one thing that flashed in his mind were the last words she uttered when he was down on his knee asking to marry her. ‘I cheated on you’. Those words had tore through him like a samurai sword slicing a bamboo tree. One look into her eyes through her mask made his heart clench. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he clenched his jaw and held on to his whiskey glass for dear life. 

“Five minutes,” he conceded. 

“That’s all I ask for,” Cassie nodded.

He didn’t let her take his hand, but he allowed her to guide him outside of the venue without anyone noticing. She always knew how to sneak them out of events like this to have some alone time, when she was feeling overwhelmed or he was feeling a bit too tired for him to keep up a friendly face. A little escapade, a little chat, a few kisses (sometimes more), and they would be alright again. His heart clenched a little at the memories.

When they stopped at the edge of the garden, he was pretty sure no one would come looking here for them. He could just barely make out the music that was playing; there was no way in hell anyone would hear whatever they were going to discuss.

“Say what you need to say,” Dean sighed as he looked at his watch. “Clock is ticking and I have to hit the road soon.” 

“I know we left it in a very, very bad place, Dean,” She licked her lips and took in a deep breath. “I know nothing I say will ever get you to forgive me… but I am so very sorry.” 

“Okay?” Dean gave a shrug. “You’re sorry. Which sorry are we? Sorry for leading me on? Sorry for lying to my face for who knows how long while you were seeing someone else behind my back? Or sorry that you destroyed five years of not just a relationship, but our friendship?” 

“For everything, Dean,” she replied. “I fucked up, and I am so, so sorry… when I woke up the next morning and I realized that the man lying beside me wasn’t you and I– I panicked. I couldn’t believe I had done that and I just–”

“Save it, Cassie,” Dean shook his head. “You’re sorry? Ok. Why couldn’t you just tell me that you didn’t love me anymore? Or was it when I told you that I was thinking about not being CEO anymore that you saw the dollar signs fly away?” he sneered. 

“I was not dating you for the money and you know that, Dean.”

“Could have fooled me,” he huffed. “I gave you everything I had Cassie. I gave you a piece of me I never showed anyone! And you sit there telling me it wasn’t about the money? Then what?” 

“I don’t know!” she exclaimed. “All I know is that I couldn’t believe I had done it. I never– I never meant to hurt you, Dean, I swear. And I didn’t want to lose you, I–” she stuttered. “But then I saw you down on one knee and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be with you knowing I had done that. I swear, I never meant to hurt you, Dean.”

“Well, you did.” -- he took a long sip of his whiskey and smacked his lips together-- “you said you were sorry, okay. Your time is up.” he looked down at the ground. Knowing that if he looked at her the wall would break. “I hope you have a nice life, I’m leaving in a few minutes. Kansas isn’t my home anymore.” 

“I hope wherever you’re going is a good home for you, then,” she mumbled. “I wish you the best, Dean. I really do.”

Dean didn’t know how to respond, so he just nodded his head and went around Cassie to go back to the party. He stopped after a few steps.

“When did it happen?”

He was certain that her answer to his question would not do him any favors. If anything, it would make the pain worse and open up wounds he thought were healed.

But he had to know.

“Remember that last trip I took with a couple of my friends from work? The little town they wanted to visit for all that bird-seeing?”

Dean nodded, “I remember. You were excited and I bought you everything you needed.” 

“Mhm… On the second day of that trip, we met this guy, one of the guides they had around. He was nice, invited me for a few drinks… and I didn’t say no… You know what happened next.”

Just like the night she confessed, the night she refused his proposal, Dean felt his heart shatter all over again. He had his answer, he was hurt.

But he was done.

Turning around one last time to look at Cassie, he gave her a wobbly smile and felt the tears pool in his eyes. 

“Thank you.” he nodded. “Have a nice life, Cassie. I hope I never see you again.”

“Dean--” she tried to reach for him but stop when she met his angry glare. 

“I got my answer. You knew for a month and strung me along,” he shook his head. “Just stay away from my family, Cassie. Don’t come to these things anymore. You broke what we had, there is no saving that. So I hope the next guy you decide to string along, won’t go for your bullshit.” 

With those last words, Dean opened the door into the ballroom and disappeared into the crowd. He made a beeline for the bar holding his empty glass. He knew he had promised, but fuck if he didn’t need another drink before he hit the road. He regretted listening to her, but he had closure, he got the answer that had plagued him for a good six months. As he placed a generous tip into the bartender’s tip jar, he never noticed Sam standing next to him. 

“Are you ok, Dean? What happened?”

“I’m fine Sam,” Dean hissed. “Just fine. Going to head out in a few anyways. The food sucks so I might get a burger before I hit the highway.” 

A smack across his head made him jump to turn and see his grandmother behind him. 

“Hi, Nana,” he gave her a sheepish smile.   

“Dean, so help me you are not going to cut out early. You will sit at the family table, eat the dinner your mother and I picked, and try to make it clear to Ms. Braeden that she is a leech.” She grabbed the whiskey glass from him and drank it. 

“I-- Nana, that’s--” Dean stopped when he met her glare. “Yes ma’am,” he grumbled. 

“Besides,” she placed the whiskey glass on the bar top and linked her arm with Dean’s. “Don’t worry, you are going to sit next to me, Sam is going to sit next to Pop’s and your father will sit next to Jessica far away from you. I also believe you said you were driving back to Texas tonight so no more whiskey.” 

“Yes, Nana,” Dean grumbled as she led them towards the dining area. Dean sighed when he noticed Lisa staring at him. “Ms. Braeden.” 

“Shall we go have dinner, Dean?” she held up her arm for him.

With a grunt, he reluctantly took her arm in his and made his way towards his seat. He helped Lisa into hers before sitting next to her. Sliding his chair slightly away from her, he smiled as he looked over the menu. He cursed himself for insulting The hor dourves. Looking at the main menu he knew his Pop’s had picked the food. Ribeye steak with fries and wild rice. 

“Didn't think I was going to let Nana put rabbit food out here, did you?” Samuel had leaned over to whisper to his grandson. 

Dean laughed, “No sir. I guess not.”   

Dean was grateful to not be near his Dad. He stiffened when he felt Lisa’s hand on his thigh and coughed giving her a sideways glance. Calmly, he reached down and removed her hand giving her a soft glare. 

“Ms. Braeden,” he huffed. “We are at a respectable party. Compose yourself.” 

“But Dean…” she whined softly. “Wouldn’t you rather go somewhere private and put those hands to good use?”

“I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole,” he growled into her ear. “I am in no mood for your games. And if this is how a VP of a company tries to close her deals it makes me wonder what kind of business you want us to enter with?” 

“And where was this attitude when we were having such a nice time the last time I saw you?”

“That was a lapse in judgment,” Dean sighed. “It won’t happen again. Now, I suggest you behave in a professional manner or you will force me to reconsider the contract,” he growled glaring at her. 

That seemed to do the trick as she licked her lips and cleared her throat. She seemed to realize that she had tried to push him a tad too far. Sitting back she huffed, much to Dean’s relief. He smiled when the food came and began to dig in. He and his grandfather continued to talk about Matagorda and his operations. He was excited to start right away. He mentioned that the former owner of the garage also owned a scrap yard, meaning Dean could restore some of the cars. If the business went well, Dean offered his grandfather a place to test the new engines and maybe make it a small branch of their corporation. 

“Now I do need to come to visit and see your garage,” Samuel smiled. 

“Garage?” John piped in from behind.   

“Just a small venture I’m sending Dean on,” Samuel winked. “The boy found something that could help us be more independent in our engine building. I like it.” 

“What?!”

“We can talk later, Pop’s. Besides,” Dean pushed his empty plate away. “Now, where is the dessert table?” 

Samuel let out a laugh as the desert table was presented with a cake in the center and an assortment of other treats around it. 

“Ms. Braeden I hope you have had a wonderful time. But, once I finish dessert I will be making my way to my new home.” Dean reached into his wallet and pulled out a few cash bills to hand to her. “That should cover a cab back to where you are staying.” 

With that, he ignored his father’s stares and made his way to the dessert table. Sam had watched the interaction and couldn’t help but smirk. But he knew something was off with Dean. Surveying the surroundings, Sam’s eyes landed on a familiar person and he sighed. He figured out Dean’s mood. Cassie must have cornered him. Walking to his brother, he cleared his throat. 

“So, you have a good night? Anyone catch your eye?” Sam tried to act casual. 

“Not really,” Dean looked over the different pies and frowned. “Man, I can’t pick one. They all look good!” he grumbled. 

“They do…” Sam conceded. “So… I just happened to see a familiar face…”

“Drop it, Sam,” Dean sighed as he picked up a place and placed a slice of pecan pie and a slice of apple pie. 

“What did she tell you? What happened?”

“She tried to apologize, I ripped her a new one and called her a gold digger.” Dean sighed. “Can we please just drop it. I’m never seeing her again, and I told her to not come to these things anymore.” Dean watched as Sam grabbed a fruit tart and rolled his eyes. 

“What?!” Sam exclaimed, then quickly composed himself at the reminder that they weren’t alone. “No. Nonononononono no you have to tell me everything– Dean, did you really– “

“What are you, a girl?” Dean raised his brow at his brother. “Look, she asked if she could talk to me, I gave her five minutes.” he made his way towards their table and Sam took Lisa’s unoccupied seat. “So we walk to the garden and she went in on how sorry she was and I asked sorry for what part of her being a bitch. She all but said that she had cheated me on that trip she went on a month before I proposed.”  Dean let out in one breath. “So I just told her that she wasn’t welcome to these events anymore.” 

“Holy crap.” Sam gasped. “Holy crap. Dean, I’m so proud of you.”

“It’s no big deal,” Dean tried to take a bite but stopped when Sam hugged him. 

“It is.” His little brother smiled. “It really is.”

“Can you be any more annoying, Bitch?” Dean growled as he gave his brother his best bitch face. “I’m trying to eat my pie.” 

“Ok, ok, eat your pie, you jerk.” Sam conceded. “Any other plans and interesting chats for the night?”

“Well, I’m going to enjoy my dessert and head on out. Benny sent me a message saying that Cas decided to join us, so they are both on their way. I need to find a spot to rest in between my drive back to Matagorda.” Dean smiled. 

“Well, from the way I see it,” Sam returned a smile of his own, “everything is starting to look up for you, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, it is,” Dean smiled. 

Dean beamed as he devoured the two slices of pie. With a look around he noticed his mother and Nana together. He decided it was time to say his goodbyes and make the twelve-hour drive back. He walked over and cleared his throat. 

“Ladies,” He smiled. “I need to make my twelve-hour drive. So I came to say goodbye.” He gave them each a hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

“Please call when you get there,” His mother caressed his cheek. “I don’t need to worry.” 

“Same goes for me young man,” Deana hugged him tightly. “You call me so that Pop’s and I won’t worry.” 

“I promise,” Dean smiled as he walked away and found Sam and Jess talking with some of the other company lawyers. “Bye Duffus,” he punched Sam’s shoulder. “Bye short stack.” 

“Be careful on your way home, ok?” Jess raised her eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah,” He hugged them both before waving at his grandfather who was distracting his father. 

Jogging to his car, he froze when he noticed someone leaning against it. There stood Lisa Braeden. His jaw clenched in anger as he grabbed his keys ignoring her.

“Decided to leave without saying goodbye?” she removed her mask and looked at him. “You know I liked flirty you better.”   

“I thought I told you to be professional?” Dean growled. 

“What’s the matter, Dean?” Lisa walked to him, she was trying to pull out all the stops. “Do you really need to go that bad that you can’t have a bit of--” she placed herself dangerously close to him, “fun.”  

“Ms. Braeden, it seems to me that you cannot comprehend the meaning of the word no. And I don’t have time to explain it to you.” He peeled himself away from her. “I need to go.”

Dean made his way to the driver’s side and climbed in, quickly locking the door and starting the engine. He wasted no time in peeling out of the parking spot he was in and making his way to the highway, heading to Texas. 

About an hour in on his trip, his phone started ringing. 

“Hello?” Dean sighed. He realized he hadn’t checked who it was and sighed when a voice screamed in his ear. 

“Where the fuck are you?!” His father’s voice made him put the phone away from his ear, cringing at the volume his father was screaming at. “And would you care to explain to me why I just received the news that Benny and Castiel quit the company?!”

“Huh?” Dean began making stacking noises. “Dad? Is that you? I can’t hear you.” He smiled to himself. 

“Do not fucking play dumb, Dean Winchester!”

“Hello?” Dean continued to play dumb. “Hello? Dad? Look if you can hear me, I guess you should know that I’m opening my own garage so I guess I took the best guys for the job with me. So you go ahead and have fun replacing them.” Dean pulled the phone away and hung up before his father could respond. 

Dean put his phone on silent as his father tried to continue to call him. It was nice to make his father angry. He knew that Benny and Cas were the backbones of their departments. Benny especially at the plant. Plus now that he was out of there, it would be hard to maintain clients. Halfway along his trip, he found a motel in Ada, Oklahoma.  After making himself as comfortable as he could be in a motel, he grabbed his phone to see twelve missed calls from his dad. 

“Wow,” he chuckled. “He must be really pissed.” 

Pressing a button, Dean decided to check his voicemail.

“Dean, answer your goddamn phone! What the fuck did you do?! What in the hell are you doing heading back to Nowhere, Texas?! Get your ass back here and do your job as the company’s CEO!”

*Beep* 

“DEAN! GOD DAMN IT! What the hell is going on? You need to answer me damn it!” 

*Beep* 

“Dean you better fucking answer your phone!”

*Beep*

“Dean if you don’t call me back you can kiss coming home goodbye! If this is how you are going to thank me for trying to --” 

He cut the message off, not wanting to listen anymore. 

“Sorry dad,” he tossed the phone to the side, then slid his hands across his face.

Picking up his phone, he looked at the time and dialed his mother.  It rang a few times before he heard the sound of her picking it up. 

“Mom?” He sighed. 

“Hang on a second, honey,” his mother mumbled. He heard his mother’s footsteps for a few seconds, and the sound of a door closing. “Where are you, Dean?”

“Motel in Oklahoma,” he answered. “How– How’s Dad?”

“Sleeping on the couch,” she sighed. “He’s upset. But I laid into him really good. I know that he said you can never come back, but don’t listen to him. You just keep ignoring him. I think he’s just hurt. He had big dreams for you, but he has to realize that his dreams aren’t your dreams.” 

“I know, Ma,” He sighed. “Just… make sure you keep him in line, I guess. I just miss how we used to be before he got this idea of me being behind the desk.” 

“I will try, Dean, believe that,” Mom promised. “I’ll see what I can do… For now, just get yourself to Matagorda. Your business is not going to open itself.” 

“I was just calling to check-in,” he muttered. “Going to sleep and I’ll call you when I make it to the house.” 

“Thank you for doing that, seriously. And hey, cheer up honey, you’re gonna do great in Texas,” she assured. “I love you, Dean.”

“I love you too, Ma,” Dean gave a soft chuckle. “I’ll invite you over once everything is settled. I should get some sleep.” 

“I can’t wait to see that famous house near the beach of yours,” Mary chuckled. “Good night, hun.”

Dean hung up the phone and plopped himself on the bed. He didn’t bother with changing out of his clothes, but he did kick off his dress shoes. He would worry about it in the morning. He drifted off to sleep, his mind wandering to his beach house.

It happened again. He could feel the salty sea air hitting his face. The sun shone brightly as he looked over the railing of his porch and watched where the shore met the water. The sounds of the waves crashing seemed to soothe him. 

‘Dean’ 

The voice sounded like a melody. He stood straight as he looked around for the source. He walked down the porch steps and made his way to the shore. He was barefoot, and as he neared the edge he could feel the water splash along his feet, the sand squishing between his toes. 

A few yards away, close enough to the sea to let the water splash her up to her ankles, was standing the same woman from his other dream. She was wearing a green sundress, her hair loose and flowing with the wind. He found his way towards her, but the closer he tried to get, the farther away she seemed to be. 

‘Wait,’ he called out. ‘Come back.’

Dean found himself surrounded in darkness before the feel of arms held him back. He turned to see Lisa holding on to him. 

‘She’s not what you want, Dean.’ 

He shook his head. ‘You don’t know anything about what I want.’

‘But you are mine, Dean.’ she hissed. ‘I’m not going to let you go.’

Dean felt himself struggling to get out of her grasp until he was engulfed in darkness.

He sat up on the bed, his face covered in sweat and his heartbeat going fast. Looking at the time, he had only gotten five hours of sleep. 

“Dammit,” he cursed. 

The dream was worse than the others. It was ominous, and the fact that Lisa was in it made him shudder. Shedding his designer suit, he took a quick shower. Letting the hot water wash off all his worry. All he needed to do was get back home and relax. 

It was barely nine am by the time he checked out of the little motel. He bought himself a breakfast burrito and a soda from a nearby fast-food restaurant and went back to the road. Matagorda was so close yet still so far away. He was itching to get there and just be in his home. As he was on the road his phone began to ring. This time he made sure to check the caller ID before answering. 

“Benny!” Dean smiled. “You find the house okay?” 

“We sure did, De!” Benny greeted. “Can’t believe you found such a nice little cozy place.”

“You and Andrea can use one of the rooms. The one at the end of the hall on the second floor is mine. Make yourselves at home.” Dean smiled and looked at the time. “I should be there in a few hours.” 

“Thanks, brother. Andrea and I are going to take good care of this place while you get here.”

“Just make sure you guys take a look around.” He smiled. “Once I get there we’ll head to the market and I can cook us up some grub. Did Cas make it yet?” 

“He had to stay back and deal with some last-minute stuff. Should be here somewhere between tonight and tomorrow morning.”

“Sounds good.” Dean smiled. “I’ll let you and Andrea get settled. Just make sure you guys are dressed by the time I get there.” he teased. 

Benny’s laugh was loud even on the phone. “I make no promises! Get here in one piece, brother.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean laughed. “Just make sure I don’t see your pale ass when I get home okay. I should be there in about three more hours.” 

“Got it! See ya later, brother!”

With that Dean hung up the phone and focused on driving. He couldn’t wait to get things started. The first thing he was going to do was to dive into the ocean. Even after moving in, he hadn’t so much as dipped a toe into, what looked like, the refreshing ocean water. 

Three hours later and he sighed in relief when his new home came into view. The rumble of the impala soothed him as he pulled up next to Benny’s own Chevy. A nice cherry red Camaro in pristine condition. It was one of the things that made him like Benny when they first met. Their love of girls, booze, and cars. Benny helped him pick himself up after Cassie. Hell, Benny was the one who stopped him from trying to win Cassie back one night when he got blacked out drunk. He was glad Benny came with him. He couldn’t see himself doing this venture with anyone else. Grabbing what bags he could, he fished his house keys out of his pocket and made his way up. With a smile, he unlocked the door, and slightly opened it, before kicking it with a force. 

“Honey, I’m HOME!” He belted out with a laugh as Benny and Andrea rushed to see what the commotion was.  

Benny almost tackled him in a hug, then punched him hard on the shoulder when he pulled away. “Fuck you, you son of a bitch! You scared the crap out of me!”

“It’s a good thing you’re dressed. Anyways,” Dean laughed. “You two take your time, I can head to the market and pick up some food to cook. Fish okay?” 

“More than okay,” Andrea nodded. “We’ll set the table and get everything ready for when you come back.”

“I’ll just put my stuff in my room and head out,” Dean walked past Benny and up the stairs making his way to his room at the end of the hall. 

He had picked the room because it was closest to the small cliff. He could hear the waves crashing in the middle of the night. With a smile, he took in his surroundings. He felt at home. 

As small as Matagorda is, the food, as far as Dean is concerned, is freaking amazing.

Being so small and so close to the Gulf, Matagorda is a hot spot for fishing. Fresh produce from the ocean hits the market every day, and Dean, being anxious to learn how to cook everything Matagorda had to offer, introducing himself as the new mechanic, asking around with some of the locals to learn the best tips to make some decent grub.

Ellen had been the nicest one, showing him around the best places to eat, taught him how to tell the difference between the good produce and the not-so-good ones. Climbing into Baby, after putting away his stuff, he drove down the small street, the only one really, that led to Mainstreet and the market.

With traffic being basically nonexistent, the trip took less than he expected (Dean still hadn’t gotten used to getting somewhere, anywhere really, so quick), and parked his car outside one of the best places to buy fish around there according to Ellen: Buddy’s Market & Seafood. He smiled and waved at some of the neighbors who he had met when he first moved in. Some of them blushed as he walked by.

“Mrs. Baker,” he gave her a small wave. 

As he walked by he couldn’t help but smile when he heard her whisper. 

“That’s the new Mechanic I was telling you about Betty,” she gushed. “Easy on the eyes, if you ask me.”

“More like a sexy stud muffin,” Betty had whispered back. “Is he single?” 

“I think so,” Mrs. Baker smiled. “But don’t even think about it. I already have my Granddaughter coming to this year’s Clam Bake. I call dibs!”

Dean shook his head as he walked inside. Heading towards the section of the store where they kept the fresh produce, Dean looked around for anything that wouldn’t be too difficult to make (he was good, thank you very much, but fish is fucking tricky). Catching sight of a few fish on the display case, he smiled at seeing crevalle jacks amongst it. He was walking along with the case when he bumped into someone. 

“I’m sorry,” the voice made him freeze. He recognized it. 

Turning around, he came face to face with the woman of his dreams.

“It’s no problem,” he assured her with a soft smile, trying as hard as he could not let it show how stunned he was. 

“I should be more careful,” she tucked a few of her stray hairs behind her ear. “My friend says I’m worse than a guppy who got lost in the ocean.” she chuckled. And seemed to freeze in embarrassment.  

Dean cocked an eyebrow, “well, that is an analogy I had not heard yet.”

“I’m not from around here,” she blushed. “I’m visiting a friend.” she avoided looking at him, scared of embarrassing herself anymore. 

He was about to introduce himself in an attempt to take away some of the awkwardness she was feeling but was caught off by none other than Ellen Harvelle.

“Y/N!” Ellen gave a deep sigh of relief. “Darlin’ you move faster than a dang cheetah. I thought I lost you.” she shook her head and turned to smile at Dean. “Well hey, Dean! Didn’t realize you got back.” 

“I just did, Ellen,” he smiled back, “Hit town about less than an hour ago and I want to buy something for a couple of guests I have back home. Was thinking of giving them a crevalle jack.”

“And here I figured you were a steak and lobster kind of man,” Ellen let out a laugh. “Oh,” she smiled and turned to Y/N. “Y/N, this is Dean. He is my next-door neighbor. Dean this is Y/N, she’s visiting from out of town.” 

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/N,” Dean winked as he offered his hand for her to shake.

Y/N stared at his hand for a moment, before realizing what he was doing and put her hand in his, remembering what Ellen had taught her about handshakes and gave him a strong grip. “Nice to meet you too.” 

Dean felt a small jolt of electricity as his hand touched hers. He couldn’t help but look deep into her eyes and felt the wind get knocked out of him. He hadn’t noticed he was holding on to her hand longer than he should. 

“Is he supposed to hold my hand for this long?” she whispered to Ellen. Not realizing that Dean could hear her. 

“Oh! No– I’m so sorry,” he stuttered as he let go of her, giving an apologetic look. “I just got distracted for a moment, thinking about ways to cook that crevalle.”

“Dean, are you sure you want to cook it? If not cooked properly, you could poison someone.” Ellen raised a brow at him. “There is nothing wrong with traditional steak and lobster.” 

He turned to look at the older woman. “Hmm? Oh, yeah… I hadn’t thought of that part…” he confessed as he scratched the back of his head. “Maybe I will stick to the steak. I haven’t had my cooking classes with you yet, Ellen.” He gave both women a sheepish smile.

“Well,” Ellen smiled at the way Dean looked at Y/N. “I’m sure the next time Y/N comes to town she would be sure to join you. I’m teaching her how to cook shrimp gumbo tonight.” 

“Ellen, I… I’m sure Dean has better things to do than watch me learn to cook--” Y/N looked down at her shoes. 

“Nonsense!” Ellen assured her, “I, for one, could use another couple of extra hands to help me teach you and Thasman how to cook. And Dean here definitely needs to learn how to properly cook with fish. Win-win, ya see?”

“Is Thasman your boyfriend?” Dean felt his heart sink a bit when he heard that there was a man with Y/N. 

“Oh, Poseidon, no!” she exclaimed, shaking her head frantically, “He’s my friend, we came here together.”

Dean smiled at her exclamation, “Never heard anyone use Poseidon’s name like that. I like it.”  

“There are a lot of things she and Thasman do differently.” Ellen smiled fondly at her, “you’d be surprised.”

“I think we need to find those shrimps you mentioned, Ellen.” Y/N blushed furiously as she played with the hem of her shirt nervously. “Nice meeting you, Mr. Dean.”

“It was nice to meet you, Ms. Y/N,” Dean gave her a bright smile. “Will you be back in time for the Clam Bake in a few weeks?” He had said it before he stopped himself.

“I do hope so,” Ellen chimed in. “Are you askin’ her out, Campbell?”

“I thought she could use a friendly face to help ease her,” Dean defended. “Besides, I’m new to the area too. We could both learn together.”  

“I don’t know,” she whispered sadly. “I might have a prior engagement.” With a deep breath, she gave him a soft smile. “It was very nice to meet you.” 

With that, she excused herself and began to walk away. Ellen tilted her head at how sad Y/N looked. 

“Huh,” she gave Dean a smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll see what I can do to get her here for the Clambake. You worry about feedin’ your friends!”  

“Thanks, Ellen,” Dean gave her a soft smile. “I hope I didn’t offend her. I was only trying to be friendly.” 

“I don’t think you did boy, don’t worry.” Ellen sympathized. “I gotta go before I lose her again. See you later, Dean.”

“I’ll see you around, Ellen,” he smiled as she made her way to chase after Y/N. 

He couldn’t believe it. The girl of his dreams bumped into him. But there was something wrong. She looked sad. Almost as if she was worried about something. 

Whatever it was, he hoped it wouldn’t stop her from seeing him again.

And so there’s chapter 10! 

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[irisandlily]

a-qing time traveler au

came up with this au where a-qing somehow ends up in the past after she dies at yi city and basically this is a a-qing time travel au where she attempts to reunite songxiao while making sure xue yang doesnt get anywhere near her new dads here’s part 1(?) of the story! :D

-----

If this is a dream, it sure feels real. A-Qing stares at her reflection in the water.

Her face is familiar, the same as she remembers it to be before a certain asshole had permanently blinded her.  

She sticks out her tongue. 

Still there.

Was I reborn as myself? She wonders, splashing water onto her face. Or… is this the past? If so… She stands up abruptly, grabbing the bamboo pole laying on the ground, and breaks into a run.

If this is the past then-

She trips and falls to the ground, scraping her knees and hands. It stings, and she's probably bleeding, but she doesn't care. She stands back up and examines her knees.

Not bleeding, just covered with dirt and scraped up. 

She examines her hands.

Her right hand is bleeding, a cut in the middle of her palm from when she fell and her hand scraped a rock.

"Excuse me, Miss?" A-Qing looks up to see a small group of villager women, one of whom has approached her. The woman's eyes soften with pity when A-Qing looks at her. "Are you alright?"

A-Qing fumbles, and thanks her when she's helped up.

"You're bleeding." the woman produces a handkerchief and offers to wrap it around her bleeding hand. A-Qing lets her.

Another young woman approaches, taking out a steamed bun from her basket and gives it to her. "Be careful Miss. Are you hungry? Take this."

"I- Thank you very much." A-Qing bids the women farewell, watching as they walk away. She picks up the bamboo pole before continuing on her way, though a bit more cautiously than before. She takes small bites of the steamed bun and finishes it by the time she arrives at a marketplace.

Those women had been familiar, but vaguely. She remembers something similar happening, being offered a steam bun before, but different. The situation had been different, and she had been pretending to be blind hadn't she?

If she was remembering things right then… A-Qing scans the crowd of people but doesn't spot a figure in white.

Not today? Disappointed, she sighs and turns around, taking only a few steps before immediately bumping into someone.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I can't see!" she says on instinct. 

She looks up and stares at the person in front of her.

"I'm fine." the young man tells her. Dressed in simple white cultivation robes, with a sword wrapped in white cloth on his back, he helps steady her. "Miss, you can't see either?"

A-Qing can only stare in shock at him, the familiar bandages covering his eyes, where blood seeps from underneath them.

Daozhang.

She really did end up in the past somehow.

A-Qing recovers from her shock, stumbling for words. 

What did you say to the man who you met again after ending up in the past, the man who took care of you for years, who you witnessed unknowingly kill his friend, and then kill himself at the revelation?

"I-I'm not blind."

"Apologies. Still, you should walk slower and be more careful."

"Thank you, Daozhang." She says, "I’m A-Qing.”

“Xiao Xingchen.”

She smiles, “Xiao-daozhang, let me follow you."

Xiao Xingchen smiles, "Why do you want to follow me? Do you want to become a cultivator?"

"You're tall and blind, and I'm small and… not blind! We could take care of each other if we travel together."

"It will be dangerous if you follow me," he warns her, and A-Qing knows he's trying to look out for her. It had only been after some pestering and pleading in her past that Xiao Xingchen had allowed her to follow him.

"Xiao-daozhang doesn't need to worry about me. A-Qing won't be any trouble." She then adds, "Besides, what if someone evil takes advantage of Daozhang and makes him kill innocents without him knowing? That's why I should travel with you and make sure that doesn't happen."

A-Qing realizes how ridiculous she probably sounds. But she needs to travel with him. She will not let that asshole Xue Yang trick him again. 

Xiao Xingchen seems amused by her words, but he agrees to let her come along.

"But if there's any danger, you have to run away. Okay, A-Qing?"

“A-Qing, run away.”

"Daozhang I'm not leaving you! Let's run away together!"

"A-Qing, run!"

A-Qing is suddenly glad Xiao Xingchen cannot see her. Tears well from the corner of her eyes and she hastily wipes them away.

That was before, and this is now. I can change it and fix everything.

"Okay, Xiao-Daozhang."

I will fix everything.

[tealin]

Basler to the Beardmore 2: Errands

As always, no matter what Tumblr does with it, this post is available in its intended presentation at twirlynoodle.com/blog along with the rest of my Antarctic travel diary.

On this flight to the heart of Antarctica, I was only a hanger-on.  We had two errands to run before entertaining me and my historical interests, the most important of which was restocking a fuel depot at the base of the Transantarctic Mountains.

There are many busy science teams in Antarctica, and while some renewable energy sources are starting to be used, the fact is that everything runs on a reliable supply of fossil fuels, mostly petrol.  The aircraft that keep people and their essentials moving around the continent have a network of fuel depots, both for relay stops and for emergencies.  Contrary to some conspiracy theories, anyone can fly to and around Antarctica if they have the money and resources to get there, and many do.  As the national science programmes have a very tight margin, and their fuel depots are expensive to maintain, they cannot afford jet-setters raiding their supplies, so the locations of these depots are kept secret.  Therefore I am not going to tell you where our first stop was.  The chances of a private pilot reading this blog are slim, but it may be possible to deduce from my photos where this particular cache is: if you are that outlier, I hereby ask you please to do the decent thing and leave the fuel alone – or if you absolutely must access it, then let the USAP know what you've taken and make good on it as soon as you can.  Everyone in Antarctica looks out for each other, and that includes you.  OK?  OK. 

So, we've taken off, and done our acrobatics to get the skis up, and are now facing a couple of hours' flight time before we reach our primary destination.  There is, quite frankly, nothing between Williams Field and the Transantarctic Mountains, besides hundreds of miles of the Ross Ice Shelf. This was known as 'The Barrier' to the early explorers, because when James Clark Ross sailed down to explore in 1840 it was a great while wall that prevented his ships from going any further. In later years it wasn't so much a barrier as a highway – clear and flat, and not much off sea level, it provided a route deep into the high latitudes without the perils of the high windy Polar Plateau.  Among people who frequently travel out there, it is sometimes referred to as 'the Flat White' – my impression is that this term came from the Kiwis, and the espresso drink of the same name is also antipodean in origin, so I wonder which came first.  It is undeniably Flat, and White (though the refraction of sunlight through ice crystals makes it look anything from peachy to periwinkle, depending on the angle), but none of its various names communicate just how big it is.

I have flown over the Canadian tundra many times, and over the Greenland ice cap, but the view from 35,000 feet is like looking at satellite view in Google Maps compared to flying at cloud level, where the parallax with the horizon gives you a much keener sense of distance.  The Barrier is BIG.  In fact, 'big' is too small a word to communicate it.  'Massive', 'mammoth', and 'gargantuan' are more melodramatic than descriptive.  Its vastness puts all of human consciousness, never mind vocabulary, in proper perspective.  For my money, it outdoes the night sky as a visual approximation of infinity. 

Getting a sense of its size, especially in a still photo, is difficult without an object for scale.  For your education and my good fortune, we happened to fly over the RAID convoy as they made their way from the Minna Bluff site to where the Ross Ice Shelf meets the Antarctic continent.  Rapid Access Ice Drilling has been supporting various scientific projects for a few years now, whether their interest is in the ice itself (its trapped air gives a record of Earth's atmosphere in millennia past) or what's underneath (marine environments far removed from the open sea; the bed of an accelerating glacier).  Their units are about the size of a shipping container, and are pulled by enormous tractors, so if they are this dwarfed by the Flat White, imagine how much more puny a sledge party would be. 

Before too much longer we were at the depot.  Landing at an Antarctic field airstrip is even more complicated than taking off: we circled once, to do a visual check, then skimmed it with the skis to make sure no hidden crevasses had opened up since the last time someone landed here, then finally touched down for real on the third go-round.  The plane crew rapidly got to work unloading the fuel drums; I offered to help but was assured I wasn't needed, so spent the time taking photographs and mucking around in the snow.

The first thing that struck me was how beautiful the mountains were in colour.  The best photos I've seen of them have been black and white, so the rich variety in shades was remarkable.  What you can't see in this small photo was how the lighter rock was banded with strata of blue-grey and orange-brown sandstone, giving it a luxurious marbled effect. 

I've read a lot about how conditions on the Barrier are so much different than on the coast.  This was far deeper into it than I was ever expecting to set foot, but I was surprised how tame it was.  Now, it was an idyllically calm and sunny day – had it been any different we would not have been there – so the only time I realised that it was actually much colder than McMurdo was when a slight breeze wafted past my bare hand and broke the warm spell that the sunshine had cast.

 What was different was the snow.  Around McMurdo, the snowbanks which did build up had been repeatedly blown over with volcanic dust which warmed up in the sun and made the snow gritty, icy, and rotten – if you live in a snowy city, think of the texture of snowbanks alongside busy roads.  Out here, there was nothing but snow, all the way down to where it became ice – powder blown off the mountains, maybe even off the Polar Plateau, deposited here to be compacted in the sun and polished by the wind.  The crust made by these processes was smooth and, in many places, thick enough to support my weight, so I hardly left a footprint – a 'good pulling surface' as sledgers would have it – but without warning there would be a thin spot where my foot would break through and sink in the sugar-like snow below.

Before long, the crew had finished their restock, and playtime was over.  After our exciting takeoff manoeuvres, we started climbing the mountains to the second of our tasks for the day. 

The Transantarctic Mountains, according to our pilot, are still something of a mystery.  They are a very high mountain range, but unlike the Rockies for example, they show little or no sign of buckling or other geological forces – they seem to have been lifted whole, keeping their layers of sandstone and coal and fossil-rich deposits mostly flat, with occasional intrusions of igneous rock. The range acts as a sort of massively oversized dyke, holding back the miles-deep polar ice cap from spilling over West Antarctica, the Ross Ice Shelf, and the Ross Sea, as the mountains cross the continent.

Ice appears to be solid, but it actually behaves more like a stiff jelly or fondant icing – if it finds a change in altitude it will flow, very slowly, downhill.  This is what a glacier is: snow gets deposited over many years without melting, turns to ice, and when its volume can no longer be held at elevation, starts to creep down the valley. The ice of the Polar Plateau finds gaps in the Transantarctic Mountains and pushes through them, forming glaciers which pour out onto the Ross Sea and, merging, form the Ross Ice Shelf.  The Beardmore Glacier is one of the largest of these, but there are hundreds of smaller ones, and many tributary glaciers that feed these.  In flying over the lower Transantarctic Mountains, there were plenty of opportunities to see ice dynamics at work: 

Our destination was up near the head of a narrow glacier, where it broadened out into a snowy plain called the Bowden Névé – névé being a term for young snow which has not yet compacted into glacial ice but is in a position to do so.  This was CTAM (pronounced see-tam), a geology camp established to be a hub for teams doing work in the Central TransAntarctic Mountains. The névé afforded an open, soft, flat place to land planes carrying supplies and people, who could then move on to less accessible places overland.  At least, it did, until a wind event a few years ago scoured deep furrows in the landing strip.

As we flew over, doing the visual check, I was astonished the site could be spotted at all, as it was only a small clutch of bamboo poles in the vast expanse. 

Having proven that the landing strip was landable, the next task was to see what condition the building was in.  What building, you ask?  Why, the one completely covered in snow, under the markers.  Once upon a time it was a couple of modules standing on the surface of the glacier, but Antarctica gradually swallowed them up, so now one has to dig down through the snow to reach the roof hatch, eight feet above the floor. 

On the way from the Basler to the camp site, I was treated to one signature snow effect I had missed out on, at the depot.  'The Barrier Hush' is frequently mentioned in journals: it was described as a 'whoosh' or a 'hush-shh-shhhh' that sighed out from underneath the walker as he broke through the top crust into a pocket of air underneath, where the loose snow had settled after the top crust was formed.  The pocket could sometimes extend quite a long way from where the crust was broken and the sound followed the exchange of air as far as it went.  It would startle the ponies and excite the dogs, until they learned there was nothing to chase and catch.    

I was walking some way behind the plane crew as they made for the camp with shovels, and suddenly heard what I thought was a small whirlwind – a sharp and intense, almost whistling sound that seemed to race across my path.  This being the sort of place one would expect to see dust devils (or snow devils, I suppose they would be) I looked around to see where it was, but the air was as still up here as it had been down on the ice shelf.  It was only after the second or third time it happened that I realised what it was – it was so completely not how I had imagined the Barrier Hush to sound.  If you make a little whirlwind sound by whisper-whistling whshwshywshwhwwsh with your lips really quickly, that's what it sounded like.  Having heard it, now, I can completely understand how the dogs would have thought there was a small creature scurrying around under the snow.  It sounded much more animate than it had been described.  I felt so lucky to be let into that secret. 

The crew got the hatch open and the first of them climbed down into the pitch darkness to report everything OK.  The rest followed, and invited me along, but I am not the most coordinated travelling artist, and couldn't see a way down for me that didn't end in a concussion.  So I stayed above while they explored the submerged camp, and enjoyed the view.  It was really spectacular – not just the stunning mountains but the thin, brittle blue of the sky and the hardness of the sunlight, as if the whole world were a taut drumskin. 

And, best of all, from here the horizon was the Polar Plateau – another Flat White stretching to the South Pole and beyond.

[pepperidgefarmremembers]

I’m late with the Kataang Week prompt. Soz.

Day 5 Heritage/Responsibilities

The sharp bamboo point, held with a steady hand, dipped into the blue ink. Pressing firmly, the bamboo began to glide deeply and continuously on his skin. He imagined pools of cold, running water in a fountain by the temple. He saw his pain floating away in a boat on the sea. He breathed fully and slowly, focused only on his breath. His mind fixated on anything but the pain. Inhale. Exhale. His stomach extended on his exhale much like that of an infant. He knew this was only temporary. He knew what this meant to his race and what it meant to him. At the time, he was the proudest he had ever been in his life. Not only mastering airbending, but being the youngest airbending master ever, caused him to beam with pride. He tightly held onto that feeling as the bamboo needle continued to slowly press into his back.

When the long, excruciating process was over, he noticed the achy, soreness but swiftly cast the thought away. He thought of his ancestors enduring the same process as he had. He felt worthy. In that moment, tears flooded into his eyes from happiness. Now, sitting in his room as a fully realized Avatar, the tears  in his eyes stemmed from anger. Aang was hot with anger about his people being killed, ignored, and forgotten. He thought he could never be as mad as when he had to grow his hair out and cover his tattoos. That was nothing compared to the degradation of his land with factories and pollution. One of the few things he had left in the world from his people and it was ruined. Although the Avatar Yangchen statue and festival eventually was restored, he still felt responsible. That’s why he needed to rebuild as much as he could. He was happy to have the Air Acolytes to assist in the process, but he was most thankful for Katara.

“Sweetie, you know you can just wear your Water Tribe clothing for the ceremony. I don’t mind,” Aang reminded her softly. Katara was wearing traditional Air Nomad robes, a sarong and a sleeved blouse which draped her in orange, brown, and saffron yellow. “I know, but this wedding ceremony is just for us at the Southern Air Temple. I want it to be special, not only for me but for you. I will be a part of your culture and heritage. Rebuilding the Air Nomad way of life is my responsibility, too,” she countered.

His smile widened at this statement.  He knew she would never understand what it was like but she still wanted to share in his culture anyway. He didn’t think he could love her anymore than he did in the moment. Aang tightly wrapped his arms around his wife’s waist with his head resting on her shoulder. “You don’t know what this means to me. Every time I think about all that was lost, I’m then reminded of all that will be. I love you, Katara,” he whispered in her ear. Katara looked deeply into his eyes. “I love you so much, Aang. I know we can’t change what happened, but I’ll do everything I can to help restore what is gone. I never want you to feel alone in shouldering this responsibility.” Waiting patiently to not interrupt, Yee-Li, the first Air Acolyte, cleared her throat. “Everything is ready to start, Avatar Aang and Master Katara.”

The cheerful couple loosened their grip on each other. Aang and Katara interlaced their fingers as they walked in brimming silence to the altar near the cliff of the Temple. Marigolds, panda lilies, and lotus flowers were sprinkled from the hallway of the Temple to the altar. Even though they had their big wedding reception for Katara’s family, diplomatic officials, and many many friends at the South Pole a week ago, this ceremony was more intimate. A few Air Acolytes, Sokka, Toph, Zuko, Suki, Bumi, and Uncle Iroh were present. Since there is no formal wedding traditions for Air Nomads, the ceremony would be short and sweet, much to the relief of Toph and Sokka. In a piercing silence, Aang and Katara looked into each other’s eyes and held their hands in a singular clasp. They were much more relaxed and in Aang’s case, much less sweaty, this time around. With his gaze upon his wife, he began,“Towards my wife, Katara, I undertake to love and respect her, be kind and considerate, be faithful, and to be her equal every day. I will trust you and honor you, I will laugh with you and cry with you, through the best and the worst, through the difficult and the easy, whatever may come I will always be there.” Katara tried and failed to hold back tears while repeating the vows whilst looking into his deep, gray eyes. The couple kissed through wet tears and smiles. They took turns lighting sandalwood candles while their audience cheered and clapped. The sea of love on the faces of his friends and family while at an Air Nomad wedding is not something he had ever thought the world would see again. The guests took turns speaking to both of them individually, offering congratulations or advice. Shortly after the conversation was over, Aang abruptly picked up his wife, who emitted a loud shriek, and spun her around off the ground. “Let’s have some cake!”