#and she just suddenly knew with extreme clarity that she was never going to treat that little boy the way flemeth treated her

[thekorcariwilds]

[worldcrawlerhp]

Draco is confused by Hermione’s words and gets a little help from Blaise

--- a short drabble from something a little longer I am writing. Takes place in the classic return to Hogwarts 8th year ----

Blaise sighed.

“What is it Draco?”

“What is what?”

“Oh please you’ve been glum since the night of the common room party - something is clearly on you mind.”

Draco shifted uncomfortably for a few seconds before rubbing his forehead.

“Its Granger,” he said finally.

Blaise nodded and waited for him to continue. Draco seemed to be debating something his his mind, but eventually he must have decided to take Blaise into his confidences.

“The other night I helped Granger out with the whole Mc-slaggen situation,” he started, unconsciously clenching one of his fists at having to mention the incident. “Afterwards Granger says something along the lines of ‘I owe you one Malfoy’-”

“Good imitation.”

“Thanks. Of course it was a ridiculous thing to say, so I said ‘we are far from even, don’t you think?’… and she gets angry!”

“She got angry? What did she say?”

Draco shrugged and his brow furrowed slightly. “She said… wait I wrote it down so I could remember…” he shuffled and brought out a piece of parchment that had obviously been folded and refolded various times.

“You wrote it down?”

“It didn’t make any sense Blaise! I needed to figure it out.”

“Granger said something you didn’t understand so you wrote it down. On parchment. And have been trying to decipher it…”

“Me writing it down is not the point! Look will you focus?” Blaise rolled his eyes but nodded, indicating Draco could continue. “Right here it is: ‘The only thing you owe me Malfoy is a fucking apology for anything that happened before this year. Everything else has to come from the bottom of that black little heart of yours.’”

He looked up at Blaise expectantly but was only greeted with an elegantly raised eyebrow.

“I’m not seeing what the problem is mate.”

“The problem is that it makes no bloody sense! Alright, I know I need to make everything up to her so why is she angry when I do something nice?” He threw his hands in the air and slumped back in his seat.

Blaise started to laugh, drawing a narrow eyed look from his friend.

“Mate. She has given you the easy way out of this! Typical Gryffindor move. And she’s told you how to do it.”

At the confused expression on Draco’s face Blaise sat forward on his chair.

“My mother left two… no… three different husbands because they were unable to apologise to her. So you could say I am an expert here. Art thou ready for me to impart knowledge and clarity to you?”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“Just bloody get on with it Zabini!”

Blaise chuckled. “Alright, lets start with some questions. You were a bit of a shit to Granger yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“And you did some stuff that is pretty bad to her right?”

“Which part,” replied Draco bitterly, “when I wished death to her and everybody like her? Or when I attempted to kill the only wizard likely to defeat the Dark Lord in a duel? Or how about when I watched her get tortured on the drawing room floor by my Aunt and did nothing to help?”

“Tortured? Lestrange?”

“It was… I’d rather not talk about it.”

“No offence but why the fuck did Granger even testify for you at your trial?”

“Merlin knows.”

“Right. Well. That was a little more than what I had thought, but it will serve to prove my point. So some pretty awful things happened, and you admit you are wrong and we’re all obviously in her debt for getting us all out of the war. Do you think that helping her out a couple of times this year would put you two back on even footing?”

“No, obviously not! That’s why I said we weren’t even!” cried Draco indignantly.

“But you implied that you could be even. That if you kept being nice to her some day you could level out. And you’ve just admitted to me right now that you couldn’t be.”

Draco was silent for a moment. “So there’s no way I can make it up to her, is that what you’re saying? Because I’m not going to stop trying even if that is the case!”

Blaise sighed.

“No Draco, listen. You cannot make it up to her, right, you just can’t. Implying that you could is insulting because, fuck, in what situation could that ever be the case? So you see why she got pissed off at you?”

“Ugh. Fine. I guess I get why she was mad. But the rest of what she said made no sense either!”

“She actually… she’s such a Gryffindor its painful… she actually gave you an easy way out of it. She said you owe her an apology for all your issues before 8th year. That’s what she wants - you to tell her you are sorry, you were wrong, you will be different from now on blah blah blah. And she wants you to mean it.”

“What? That’s it? Just say sorry?”

“I’d put a little effort into it if I were you. Apologise properly. Tell her exactly what you are sorry for and why, yeah?”

Draco nodded. “Alright, so I don’t assume I can make it up to her, apologise properly… so what did she mean by ‘Everything else has to come from the bottom of that black little heart of yours.’?”

“You were being nice to her right?”

“Well I thought so!”

“She’s jut questioning why you were being nice to her. See if you thought you needed to ‘get even’ with her and were only being nice to her because of that, then we’re back to where we started - you’re insulting her by believing you can be forgiven through racking up enough nice things you do. That doesn’t mean you’re being nice to her, only that you’re being nice because of the situation.”

Draco groaned.

“Blaise you’re not making any sense!”

“How is this so complicated? Fuck no wonder my mother has gone through so many men! Ok how do I explain this. So… see, if you think you owe Granger, and you think the way to make it up to her is to be nice, then you are only being nice because you owe her. Not because you think she deserves your respect. So then add in that she is muggle-born and you hate mugg—”

“I don’t—It doesn’t mean shit to me anymore!”

“Well you have all the time we’ve been at school! The point, Draco, is that if you go around being a prick to all muggle-borns apart from her, then you are essentially saying ‘nothing has changed, I just owe Granger some niceness for a while’, and when you believe you have paid off your debt you can go back to treating her like dirt.”

“Well that’s not what’s happening, and I don’t sound like that,” huffed Draco, pouting and crossing his arms over his chest.

Blaise shrugged. “Then make that clear. You need to make sure she knows you are treating her with respect because she is somebody worthy of respect - and not despite being muggle-born, but because she is a human being. Make sure you’re treating everybody the same - pure blood, half blood, muggle-born - and she will be happy with you.”

“So I apologise, and then continue treating her nicely, and also be equally unpleasant to everybody else regardless of background?” asked Draco, turning it over in his mind.

“If you want to put it that way… and really Draco, she gave you the easy way out. If she were a Slytherin she would have been calling in favours for ever and it would never be enough.”

“Bloody girls so complicated,”muttered Draco, tapping his fingers on his knee, “why couldn’t she just say so!”

“She literally did!” cried Blaise, exasperated with his friend. “Re-read your little piece of paper and you’ll see its all in there.”

Draco glared at him, but unfolded his parchment again and re-read her exact words, grumbling to himself.

Eventually he signed in resignation. “You’re right,” he bit out.

“I’m sorry, what was that? It sounded like Draco Malfoy admitting I was correct…”

“Fuck you. You were right. Happy?”

Blaise grinned. “Extremely. Where are you going?” he asked as Draco gathered his belongings to leave.

“To go and draft an apology. Respectful apologies to deserving witches is something my father actually did do well…” suddenly a feral grin took over his face, the type he would sport after carrying out a particularly good prank. “I bet Lucius would absolutely love it if he knew I was using his skill to apologise to Granger!”

“Your father any good at respectfully wooing witches too?”

“What? Why?”

“Oh you know… in case a certain muggle-born witch were to occupy your ‘little black heart’ as well as your mind!” Blaise winked at Draco as he pushed passed to leave the room and a spluttering Malfoy behind.

[geminis-twisted-mind]

Esme Blake stared at the screen, unable to process what she was reading. It was an email, with the subject line: Mandatory Self Defence Training: Kidnapping.

She read each line slowly, and then read the whole thing again. Finally, when no clarity seemed to be forthcoming, she drafted a message to Cheryl, the HR leader, who just happened to be an old friend from her graduating class.

Hi Cheryl,

This is a joke, right?! Ha ha, tease the new girl. No one actually does THIS?

E.

Cheryl’s response arrived back with an aggressive ping.

Hi E,

No joke. Everyone on the international team does it. Company wants to be sure you know how to handle yourself if you get nicked while negotiating with one of our foreign buyers.

You wanted the promotion, this is part of it.

C.

‘Get nicked’? Was that anyway for a senior team member to talk, even if they were friends? Esme typed back, still not convinced.

I never wanted to do anything dangerous! I just wanted some nice parties with diplomats, maybe some cute waiters with sexy accents. You don’t really think I'll get kidnapped?!

E.

The response came back in seconds, suggesting Cheryl had been waiting.

Of course not. It’s never happened. But you should be prepared in cased it does. So stop complaining and book the course for this Friday.

That was it. The end of the discussion. Another ping told her that Cheryl wasn’t quite done.

And E, try not to enjoy it too much!

Bitch.

Esme held back her wounded pride and set about reading the 15-page disclaimer on the website. The word consent was used a lot, specifically regarding how the role-play was designed to simulate a real-life experience, and therefore would be run to completion no matter what, except for a medical emergency. By signing up, Esme was declaring that she knew what she was getting into and was OK with it.

Esme entered her details, including the billing which went straight to the company, and moved on to the permissions page. She was immediately alarmed when she saw what she was being asked to give permission for, starting with where she wanted to be abducted from.

Seriously, what the f*** kind of question is that? she thought as she read through the list.

Kidnapped from office would be far too embarrassing, with all her colleagues around to watch. Home-invasion was out, in case her wife tried to play the heroine and got herself hurt. That left the street, which made her very nervous but was the only acceptable answer.

Esme moved on to what they called the ‘core experience’. Her stomach did flips as she read through the list, a perverted menu of head-bagging, body-tying, car-boot-riding, handcuffs, blindfolds, and gags. The word ‘kinky’ wasn't used, but she sensed it was never far from the edges of the conversation.

At the bottom of the page was a section called ‘interrogation’. Esme felt her chest tighten just reading it. A warning in red marked it as recommended only for people with some prior experience. Esme realised with a sickening start that some people must do this more than once.

Half of the choices sounded like things she would expect to find in German dungeon porn, featuring blond, top-heavy maidens strapped helplessly to tables being horribly abused by leather-wearing sadists. Coming in at just under 5ft nothing, with a modest frame, short brown hair, and a cute face all but hidden behind a pair of glasses, Esme had a hard time picturing herself in the role of the helpless maiden.

Esme took a deep breath and carefully made her selections. in particular, she unchecked anything that sounded like it would hurt. She would let them take her and hold her until the ‘ransom’ was paid, a minimum of 2 hours. Otherwise she expected to be treated, if not nicely, then at least gently. Surreptitiously located next to the button for ‘confirm’ was another button that said ‘select all’, which she avoided.

“What’s that, Esme?” The voice came so suddenly that Esme had to grab the edge of her desk to keep from falling straight out of her chair.

It was Thomas. Stupidly-attractive Thomas. Always-flirting-but-only-in-that-nice-way Thomas. But worst of all, gossiped-like-an-American-hen-on-steroids Thomas. If he saw what she was looking at, it would be all over the office in nanoseconds.

She hit ‘confirm' in a blind panic and closed the browser.

.....

Friday came with all the speed and determination of a snail that had decided this was the week it was going to practice the art of moonwalking.

She left the office wearing her least-favourite skirt, her cheapest white Primark brand top, and a pair of comfortable shoes. After all, if she was going to be abducted, she was damned if she was going to do it in heels. She had deliberately not had anything to drink for two hours: the last thing she wanted was to have to ask her kidnappers for permission to use the loo.

She skipped the tube she normally took home and walked on as instructed, to a quieter place where there was less likely to be any witnesses. Then she activated the app that told them where she was, to make sure they got the right person.

The thought of someone watching her movements made her extremely nervous. Every dusk-born shadow seemed larger and scarier. If anyone had asked her for the time she might have punched them in the face on reflex.

She never even heard the silent electric vehicle drive up behind her. It wasn’t until two men leapt out and threw a black (and mercifully clean) bag over her head that she realised she was ‘nicked’.

.....

The memory of the journey was a blur. She had been in the boot, she knew that much. But it had been roomier than she had expected and, given that the max speed for inner-city London was about 5 miles per hour, it hadn’t been a bumpy ride. Her arms had been cuffed behind her back, so she had rested on her side to stop the metal cutting into her wrists.

She found she could breathe surprisingly well through the bag, even as they pulled up, opened the boot, and lifted her out. It was shocking having several pairs of hands grabbing her at the same time, but they were – polite – about where they touched her. She absently wondered if real kidnappers would be so considerate. Somehow she doubted it.

She was lowered into a solid metal chair, the kind of minimalist contraption used by chip shops with airs. The lower back portion was missing by design, which gave her cuffed hands somewhere to rest. She wondered if she was expected to participate, maybe get up and try to run away, but the addition of a cable tie holding her ankles together settled that debate.

There was darkness, and voices, but no one talked to her. The bag was pulled away just as a massive light burst to life and filled her field of vision, blinding her. She gasped and blinked, and then cried out as a cloth gag was forced roughly into her mouth.

“Hey! Be gentle!” she tried to say, but it came out as a frustrated “hmph! hmmph hmfmph”.

“We’ve got a live one,” said a man’s voice. It was perfectly intoned English, but with a light European accent. He could have been anywhere in the room – Esme couldn't see anything.

She was slightly surprised to hear a woman with a similar accent respond. “She should be, given this order. It says she’s down for the full package.”

But then, why couldn’t women be kidnappers? Was she a bad feminist for assuming her abductors would be male? Wait what?!

“No that’s not right! I don't want the full package, I don't even want the box! Just leave me here for two hours until my office ‘rescues’ me.” That's how it sounded in her head. The gagged version was a series of indecipherable grunts and hmphs.

Her mind looked around and did the equivalent of a teenager realising he actually can’t jump clean over that pointy fire hydrant.

Two words: ‘select all’.

Thomas, when I get out of this, I am going to MURDER you.

Esme had never seen the confirmation. All the correspondence had gone to the billing address, the office, to Cheryl. And that two-timing wench never said a damn thing.

Esme’s eyes adjusted to the bright light, enough that she could make out the shadowy forms of her two captors standing behind it.

Please, she thought desperately, don't hurt me...

.....

Esme was lifted out of the chair by two pairs of strong hands, one on each arm. Her ankles were still bound together, giving her all the dignity of a fish flopping on a hook. There was the rattle of keys and the cuffs came loose, but as soon as her hands were free they were pulled abover her head and recuffed, this time in leather. At first she could stand comfortably on her own feet, but a loud noise and a horrible pulling sensation later and she found herself practically hanging from the ceiling!

Oh god, no, this can’t be happening! This isn’t me, I don’t do things like this! Please take off the gag and I can explain this is all a misunderstanding!

“Hmmmph” on repeat is all she managed to say.

The woman walked between Esme and the light. She was dressed in a black pantsuit and obligatory stilletto heels. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. She had sharp, beautiful features and piercing eyes. The only thing missing was a riding crop in her hands.

“Now, Ms Blake. We are going to ask you some questions about the people you work for, and I understand you may not want to answer out of loyalty. That won’t last. We have six hours to make you talk, and I promise, you will talk.

Six hours?! I only agreed to two! I’ll talk, I’ll tell you everything, starting with where that bitch Cheryl lives!

The man moved up beside her. Like the woman, he was extremely handsome. In fact, he looked so much like her they could have been siblings. He was wearing a pair of army-issue kakis and a vest. In his hand was a knife as long as Esme’s arm from elbow to wrist. Esme’s eyes widened and she began to struggle against the cuffs, causing her body to shake in the air.

“Hold her still!” said the man, not loudly but with a clear authorative voice. It was so compelling that Esme nearly stopped moving to obey him herself. More hands grabbed her and she was stuck in position, with the strength of their arms taking some of the weight off her wrists. She followed the man with the knife as he walked around her, straining her neck until he was out of sight.

She screamed as he tore through her blouse, exposing her back but leaving her chest covered as the top hung from the sleeves. She hadn’t been ready to be treated this way in front of so many people. The woman came up and held Esme’s chin in her hand.

“There there,” she said, almost whispering. “It won’t be all bad. My brother is very good at what he does.”

A sudden weight landed against her back, with just a hint of sting, announcing the fact that she was being flogged! She gasped and tried to catch her breath even as another hit landed. The weight of the leather assulted her back again and again, never really stinging nor hard enough to be truely punishing, but making her skin raw with every slap. She didn’t know how long he hit her for, the rythmic pulsing of it pushing her against the bondage that held her. After the initial shock of it, she found it was almost relaxing.

Endorphines mixed with the adrenaline of fear in her brain, creating an unexpected cocktail that clouded her mind and muddled her thoughts. It took her by surprise when the woman took her by the chin again.

“Don’t think this is all you’re getting.” The woman was holding a whip now, a cruel looking thing that was twisted and folded from one thick end which served as a handle, to a thin tapered end that finished in a point. Esme looked at her pleadingly and shook her head.

The flogging had stopped. Now the man walked into Esme’s view and the woman disappeared behind her. His vest was gone and there was sweat across the muscles of his chest and arms. He looked for all the world like a professional body builder. He leaned close to her and for a moment Esme felt her heart beat a bit harder for a reason that had nothing to do with her predicament.

Then the whipping started.

The first crack was like pinch on her back being delivered at the speed of sound. Esme’s head arched backwards and she screamed into the gag. Another hit swiftly followed the first, but the shock of it wasn’t there, and she found she could handle the sharp, stinging pain a bit better.

The man was watching her, she realised. Even as the whip landed again and again, his eyes never left hers. She focused on those eyes and the pain of the whip was somehow dulled. He moved closer and held up a hand and she leaned her head towards it, brushing it with her cheek, then jumped back as the whip cracked even more painfully across her sensitive skin.

Her breathing was hard and fast, but under control. Her back was on fire from the whipping, but her heart wasn’t beating out of her chest anymore. And those eyes, watching her like she was the only thing that mattered, made her want to take more just so he could see her do it. Then maybe she would get to feel his hand again...

Oh my god... it’s not possible... I can’t be.... I’m not actually... enjoying this?

The chain was lowered until she was able to sit on the ground. The man disappeared as the woman circled in front of her. She had the same eyes, the ones that saw everything. She leaned in close, as though she meant to whisper to Esme as a lover might, as the man untied the gag from behind Esme’s head.

“Are you ready to talk?” as the woman. The hint of accent make the words sound delicious, like something out of a bad spy movie. “We have five hours left to change your mind if you refuse to cooperate.”

Esme looked up at her captor, at her fierce face, and felt her own determination rising. Maybe she hadn’t meant to get herself into this mess, but now that she was here, she was going to own it.

“I’m not telling you anything.”

[inyournightmares97]

My Youth (Chapter 7)

Broken and miserable, Park Jinyoung returns to his hometown to learn that no matter how hard he falls, there are still people who think he’s a hero.

Warnings: Mentions of suicide/depression, death, angst, slow build, maybe some language.(Please don’t ask when I’ll update. Wait until the series is finished to read if you’re impatient.)

Word Count: 5.6k+

(Can’t put links to the other parts here, please check my Masterlist/the reblog for the Prologue and Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6)

Jinyoung was not pleased.

“I don’t understand why we’re suddenly making friends with kids now, that’s all,” he complained as you sat down on the grass and opened your lunchbox. A delicious aroma wafted from it it. You had begun to make your own lunches ever since high school began and you discovered that you had a knack for cooking. “How can you even enjoy the company of that man-child? All he does is smile in that annoying way and nod his head.”

You sighed. “Jinyoung, can’t you be a little nicer?”

“I’m not nice,” he muttered.

“I told you, Yugyeom hasn’t been eating lunch for the past few weeks. His mother works full time so she can’t make him anything, and he often gets what little lunch money he has stolen by some seniors,” you replied firmly. “So I offered to make him lunch too. Can’t you just deal with it?”

Jinyoung pouted. “It’s a nuisance. We can’t talk freely with that kid around.”

“He’s just one year younger than us, stop calling him a kid. And if you’re so bothered by his presence then go eat lunch with Jackson or something,” you snapped.

Jinyoung’s eyes widened. He had been whining about Yugyeom, sure, but he hadn’t expected you to tell him to eat somewhere else. How could you choose that kid Yugyeom over him? He was offended and hurt.

“Fine,” Jinyoung muttered while giving you the stink eye. “I’ll shut up.”

You rolled your eyes at Jinyoung’s adorable pout. He could whine all he wanted,  but you knew that he would never actually eat lunch anywhere else. You lifted a hand and waved at Yugyeom as he approached.

“Yugyeom! Over here! I brought fish today!”

Yugyeom ran over to you happily, his long legs a little awkward. “Noona!” he greeted you. Then he turned and politely smiled at Jinyoung. “Jinyoung-sunbaenim! Thanks for letting me eat with you!”

Jinyoung bristled. Noona? Why was Yugyeom calling you that? Since when has this new nonsense started?

“It’s fine,” Jinyoung mumbled. He let out a small huff and shoveled a spoonful of his own lunch into his mouth. He didn’t like the way the kid was always fawning over you. Didn’t he have friends of his own? Why did he have to come eat lunch with the two of you, out of the entire school?

You opened your lunchbox to show Yugyeom the extra food you’d packed for him and then sighed. “Oh no! I brought an extra pair of chopsticks for you, Yugyeom, but I left them in my bag.”

Yugyeom sat up. “I can get them, noona-”

“No, it’ll take you longer to find them. I’ll run back and get them myself,” you insisted, getting up and running back to the classroom. There was an uncomfortable silence once you left. Jinyoung side-eyed the cheerful Yugyeom and then cleared his throat. Perhaps it was time to wrap up this nuisance once and for all.  

Jinyoung plastered a fake smile onto his lips and put an arm around Yugyeom’s shoulder in a friendly gesture.

“Yugyeom…”

Yugyeom’s big brown eyes turned to him. “Yes, sunbaenim?”

“You don’t really want to eat lunch here with us, do you?” Jinyoung asked knowingly. “You probably want to go eat with your friends but the seniors keep stealing your lunch money in the mornings. How about I help you solve that problem?”

Yugyeom blinked, confused. “But I don’t mind eating lunch with noona-”

“Well, I mind. So how about you take this,” Jinyoung quietly tucked a currency note into Yugyeom’s hand and closed his fingers over it, “and go buy yourself something nice from the cafeteria, hmm? I hear they’re serving chicken today. And tomorrow’s pork! You don’t want to miss the pork! I’ll lend you more tomorrow.”

“But-”

“And we can keep this a secret from noona, can’t we? Imagine how hard it must be for her to wake up early and make all this extra food for you. You don’t want to be a burden to her, right?” Jinyoung asked knowingly. “So let’s do it this way. It’s easier for all of us.”

Yugyeom looked down at the currency note and his eyes widened. “But Jinyoung-sunbaenim, your  money…”

“You can pay me back someday,” Jinyoung promised. He gave Yugyeom a reassuring pat on the back. “Go on now, before they run out of chicken. I’ll tell noona you left.”

Yugyeom opened his mouth to protest but he saw the slightly dangerous glint in Jinyoung’s eyes. Even though Jinyoung had phrased it as a favor, he sensed that this was not something he could refuse. Yugyeom nodded reluctantly. “Okay. Thanks, sunbaenim…”

Jinyoung smiled, satisfied.

“Call me hyung.”

---------

Jinyoung woke up to the delicious aroma of fresh coffee.

The blanket he was wrapped up in smelled delightfully like you and he didn’t even want to open his eyes. The memories of the previous night were too fresh in his mind. Realizing that he had a long way to go to gain your forgiveness and respect was daunting. Jinyoung hadn’t expected that his actions, or lack of them, would have such severe consequences. The road ahead wasn’t an easy one.

Then again, Jinyoung had never been one to take the easy road.

He should have been embarrassed and upset about his behaviour, but he wasn’t. Jinyoung felt more relieved than anything. The fact that you had finally opened up to him and been honest with him was a step in the right direction. Now he knew what he had done wrong and he could correct it. It would take time but it was possible.

“Jinyoung? Are you awake?” your soft voice called out from the kitchen.

“Uh-yeah,” Jinyoung replied gruffly. He shoved the blanket off himself and hurried to his feet, only to realize how painful his headache was. He groaned and paused to fold up the blanket and place it to the side of the couch. Your apartment was extremely neat. The last thing he wanted to do was cause you trouble.

“Come in here and get some coffee!” you called out.

Jinyoung followed the sound of your voice and arrived at the doorway of the kitchen. You were standing with your back to him in a loose t-shirt and shorts; your feet were bare on the cold kitchen floor. Your hair was a mess and your arms were wrapped around yourself to shield yourself from the chilly morning weather. When you turned to face him, and your lips turned up into a gentle smile, Jinyoung felt his heart skip a beat.

“Morning,” you greeted him lightly. “Do you want coffee or should we jump straight to the hangover cure?”

Jinyoung blinked at you helplessly. He had never seen you like this. Soft, messy and vulnerable. It made him wonder whether you looked this beautiful every morning. It made him wonder whether, if he had never left for Seoul, he might have seen you like this every day. Jinyoung suddenly wanted to take you into his arms again and inhale your familiar scent.

He cleared his throat. “I’m… I’m not that hungover.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that why you’re squinting at me like that? Because you don’t have a splitting headache?” you wondered as you poured a mug of coffee and handed it to him. “Here; let’s start with the coffee for now. Your mother called. She’s made breakfast and a cure for your hangover already so we’d better head over.”

Jinyoung blinked, confused. “We?”

“You don’t want me to come?” you demanded. “Your Mom always invites me over for breakfast on Saturdays.”

“Oh.” Jinyoung took a sip of the coffee awkwardly. “I-I didn’t know.”

You nodded and leaned against the counter as you clutched your own mug. Jinyoung was staring down at the coffee blankly and you could see that he was deep in thought. The way his dark eyes met yours was awkward and after the conversation you’d both had the previous night, there was no way to pretend everything was fine.

“Jinyoung,” you said softly.

Jinyoung’s head snapped up to look at you and his eyes widened. “Yeah?”

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

Jinyoung let out a soft sigh. “I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have gone out and gotten drunk without returning your bicycle, I shouldn’t have turned up here in the middle of the night and made a scene. I don’t…” he cleared his throat and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “The last thing I want to do is be a burden to you.”

You smiled. You could understand that feeling.

“You’re not a burden,” you told him gently.

“That’s what worries me even more,” he admitted. Jinyoung’s cheeks were turning pink. “I don’t understand you. How can you be so nice to me even after you admitted how much I’ve hurt you? Shouldn’t you have punched me in the face the day I arrived? Why are you making me coffee instead?”

You weren’t sure how to respond. Why were you being so kind to Jinyoung? Why hadn’t you been able to treat him coldly or be angry with him like any normal person would? The answer came to you with surprising clarity.

“I don’t want to punch you in the face,” you said calmly. “Seeing you hurt or miserable wouldn’t make me happy.”

“Then what would make you happy?”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

You gave him a soft, wistful smile. “…I’d just really like the old Jinyoung back.”

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

You were devastated to find that Jinyoung still possessed his old black hoodie, and insisted on wearing it during the bus ride back to his house.

“I spilled beer on my shirt,” he reminded you smugly when you mentioned the awful garment. You weren’t sure whether to laugh or be mad. Jinyoung had always been extremely stubborn about small things. It was true; the dress shirt he was wearing underneath did have an unsavory beer stain on it. “Do you want me to walk around with the stain showing?” he demanded.

You rolled your eyes as the bus rolled up to the stop. “We both know it’s not the stain you want to hide, but your face.”

Jinyoung sighed and followed you onto the bus. “Don’t I deserve at least that much? The reporters are all over town. It’s a matter of time before they get somebody talking and publish an article about my life after GOT Group.”

“Why don’t you just give an interview so that they leave you alone?”

Jinyoung scoffed. “And say what? They’ll just twist anything I say. When I was still the CEO, I had a PR Manager to handle the press. Now I’m on my own.”

You sighed as you sat down and Jinyoung casually sat beside you. There was only one other woman on the bus; an elderly lady who hadn’t even noticed either of you. You glanced at Jinyoung and frowned. The dark hood had gone up over his head as soon as he saw her.

“Jinyoung, seriously.”

“What?”

“Don’t you own any normal clothing?” you snapped.

He glanced down at his hoodie and you could see the slight tinge of pink that covered his cheeks. “I mean… not really. My wardrobe mostly consisted of either suits and dress shirts for work, or pajamas for when I was home. I never really needed anything else.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. “You don’t have any t-shirts? Or sweaters?”

Jinyoung blinked. “I had a couple of golf t-shirts for when I played with the Directors, but I didn’t pack them.”

You stared at him in disbelief. What sort of a life had he been living? You suddenly realized how dedicated Jinyoung had been to his work. “Okay. After we go to your place and have breakfast, you’re going to take a quick shower and we’re going back out.”

Jinyoung blinked. “Out? Out where?”

“Shopping,” you replied. “There’s a mall in the next town. It takes a little while to get there but they have some decent clothing stores. You can’t spend the rest of your life in that one hoodie.”

Jinyoung sighed. “I don’t need clothes-”

“Yes, you do.”

Jinyoung pouted for the rest of the bus journey. He folded his arms across his chest and faced away from you like a child but you could only smile. Jinyoung had never liked being told what to do. Perhaps some things about a person never changed.

As you approached the Parks’ home, you noticed that there were a number of cars parked outside. Shit. Reporters. At least ten people were standing around there and as soon as they saw you, they came running over to you. You froze in shock.

“Mr. Park! Mr. Park, do you have anything to say about your dismissal from GOT Group?” one woman screamed in your face. Jinyoung grasped your arm tightly and you could sense that he had tensed up.

Another man tried to shove you aside to get to Jinyoung. “Mr. Park, is it true that you’re planning to sue the company for wrongful dismissal? Will you be taking legal action?”

“Mr. Park, do you plan to return to Seoul? What are your plans for the near future?”

The reporters were blocking your way and their camera were flashing in your faces. They wouldn’t let you move and Jinyoung’s nervous grasp on your arm was tightening. You could see his face growing pale. You tried to yell at the reporters to move and make way, but somebody else beat you to it.

“Hey!” a loud voice yelled. A tall police officer in uniform shoved his way through the tight group of reporters and created a path. “Didn’t I tell you all I’d be arresting anyone who harassed him? Make way right now!”

You couldn’t help but smile as you recognized the police officer. He had a toothy smile and he beamed at you happily as he pushed another reporter out of the way. He lifted a hand in a friendly wave.

“Hi, noona!”

You grinned. “Hey, Yugyeom! What are you doing here?”

“I’ll explain later! You both get indoors quickly!”

You nodded and followed Jinyoung indoors. He yanked the front door open and stumbled into the front hall desperately. You grabbed his arm, concerned. “Jinyoung. Jinyoung, are you okay?”

He was breathing heavily. “I’m-I’m fine.”

“I can’t believe they ambushed you like that…”

You waited for Jinyoung to catch his breath. He was evidently shaken up by the reporters and he leaned against the wall, closing his eyes for a few moments. You held his hand and gently comforted him. After a few moments, the front door opened and Yugyeom peeked in with a sheepish smile.

“Hi. Can I come in?” he wondered.

“Yugyeom!” you greeted him again with a cheerful smile. Jinyoung looked confused. “I haven’t seen you in a while. You must be busy at the police station.”

Yugyeom rubbed the back of his neck. “Hardly, noona, just the occasional bar fight on weekends. The Chief heard about how the reporters were harassing Jinyoung-hyung so I’m on duty here to keep an eye out for your safety!”

Jinyoung raised an eyebrow in distaste. “Hyung?”

Yugyeom blushed under Jinyoung’s sharp glare. “Uh, sorry. Jinyoung-ssi. You might not remember me, but we went to high school together. You used to lend me lunch money because I kept getting mine taken from the bullies, remember?”

Jinyoung cut him off quickly. “Yeah, yeah, I remember you. So you’re a cop now. You didn’t seem like the type.”

Yugyeom blinked innocently. “Really? Why?”

“Well… weren’t you always getting beaten up in school?”

Yugyeom grinned. “Ahh. I get beaten up now too. I tried to break up a bar fight a few days ago and the drunken thugs all ganged up on me and beat me up instead. I have the bruises too; look!” he pulled up his shirt to reveal a couple of bruises on his stomach and you gasped.

“Yugyeom! That looks so painful.”

Jinyoung scoffed. “How could a cop let himself get beaten up?”  

You elbowed him. “Jinyoung!”

Jinyoung bristled. “What? I’m just saying that if he got beaten up then he’s probably not very good at his job, that’s all-”

“Don’t be so insensitive!”

Yugyeom looked unperturbed. The cheerful smile didn’t leave his face for a second. “That’s okay, noona! He’s right, I’m still learning. Anyway, I’ll be right outside taking care of the reporters so you go ahead and enjoy yourselves! Yell if you need me!”

You smiled. “Thanks, Yugyeom.”

Yugyeom hurried back outside and you were left alone with a sour-faced Jinyoung. You pinched his arm and he glared at you. “Ow!” Jinyoung cried. “Why did you do that?”

“Can’t you be nicer to him? He’s literally here for your protection.”

Jinyoung pouted. “So? I didn’t ask for his help. And what good is a cop that gets himself beaten up anyway?”

You sighed.

“Just go shower. You stink.”

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

Mrs. Park was only too happy to hear that you and Jinyoung were going shopping. She was understandably tired of having to wash the same black hoodie over and over again, which meant that after breakfast and a shower, Jinyoung was packed into Yugyeom’s police car against his will.

“You know, you don't have to come with us,” Jinyoung told Yugyeom hopefully.

Yugyeom smiled. “I do! Chief told me specifically that I had to make sure you were safe until the reporters problem died down. They’re my orders!”

Jinyoung sighed. “Yes, but surely cops have better things to be doing?”

“Not in our town,” Yugyeom replied matter-of-factly. “Besides, everyone’s worried about you, hyung. Nobody likes seeing the reporters harass you and your parents. And being with you means that I don’t have to be on duty outside the bar tonight!”

Jinyoung raised an eyebrow. “Pity.”

The mall was tiny. Jinyoung had almost forgotten that malls here weren’t as large and spectacular as the ones in Seoul. Still, he didn’t mind as you dragged him into the Men’s section of a nice clothing store and began pointing at clothes that you thought would suit him.

“Here,” you pulled a light blue t-shirt off the rack. Then you found a nice navy blue sweatshirt. “And this one. Oh! And that pretty checkered one over there. Go on; try all of these on.”

Jinyoung raised an eyebrow as you shoved an armful of the clothes at him. Your eyes were sparkling and you looked excited as you picked out shirts and other casual wear for him. He rubbed the back of his neck as the pile in his arms began to grow.

“I, uh, didn’t realize you liked shopping so much,” he mumbled.

You paused and gave him a sheepish smile. Perhaps you were getting a little too excited. “I mean… truth is, I’ve never even been in the Men’s section before. I don’t know any men that would let me pick out clothes for them. So you’re going to be my guinea pig for today.”

Jinyoung stared at you. “Wow, fun.”

“Are you going to go try those on or not?”

“Fine,” he mumbled. He took the armful of clothing and headed towards the fitting rooms, when he suddenly came across Yugyeom. The taller cop looked down at the clothes in his arms and let out a soft tsk. Jinyoung frowned at him. “What?” he demanded.

Yugyeom shook his head. “You don’t need all those. I used to buy a lot of expensive stuff in college too, until a friend named Bambam told me the ultimate trick to choosing clothes.”

“And what’s that?”

Yugyeom pulled a simple beige sweater off the rack next to him and put it into Jinyoung’s hands. The material was unbelievably soft and velvety; it made Jinyoung want to press it to his face. “You need something the girls can’t keep their hands off. You need a boyfriend sweater.”

-------

“Hey. What do you think?”

You froze in your tracks. Jinyoung had emerged from the fitting room wearing the simple beige sweater and a pair of dark blue jeans. It was gorgeous. The garment had been rather unremarkable on the rack but it made Jinyoung look unbelievably handsome. The sweater clung spectacularly to his shoulders and well-built upper arms. The jeans, on the other hand, perfectly framed Jinyoung’s shapely butt.

You were suddenly struck by how attractive Jinyoung had become.

“Uh…” you trailed off slowly.

Jinyoung blinked at you doubtfully. “No? It’s probably a no, right? That kid picked it out for me. I knew he had bad taste.”

Your eyes widened. “No, no! It looks really good on you! You have to get it!” you insisted. You stepped closer to Jinyoung and gently ran your fingers over the soft, velvety cloth of the sweater. “Wow, it’s so soft and cuddly. You should get this. It’ll come in handy when the weather gets colder.”

Jinyoung blinked down at your hand stroking his arm. His cheeks flushed pink at the way your fingers kept trailing up and down and he quickly pulled his arm away. “I-I’ll go try some other stuff on, then. Stop groping me.”

You glared at him and withdrew your hand. “Who was groping you? I was touching the sweater!”

Jinyoung rolled his eyes and went back into the fitting room, leaving you flustered. Why were your cheeks burning all of a sudden? It was amazing how taking off the baggy hoodie and putting on a nice sweater and jeans suddenly made Park Jinyoung seem like a different person.

A very handsome different person.

“That was a nice sweater, huh?” Yugyeom piped up. He had a cheeky grin on his face and you blinked at him in surprise. You hadn’t even noticed him sneak up behind you. “I knew Jinyoung-hyung would look good in it.”

You frowned. “Huh.”

“Noona…” Yugyeom began slowly. He looked a little sheepish. “Do you think I should offer to pay Jinyoung-hyung back for all the times he paid for my lunch back in high school? It seems kind of weird to ask now that he’s rich but I should still offer, right? He did tell me back then that I could pay him back someday.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why? How often did he lend you lunch money? Wasn’t it just a couple of times?”

“Noona. Come on. He bought me lunch for nearly two years! Remember? That’s why I told you to stop making me lunch and I started eating at the cafeteria,” Yugyeom reminded you.

“That was because Jinyoung started buying you lunch?” you demanded. “I thought you’d just dealt with the guys who used to steal your lunch money!”

“Nah. Jinyoung-hyung used to find me before lunch and lend me money every day. He said it was because he didn’t want you to go to the trouble of making extra food for me but…” Yugyeom lowered his voice slightly. “I think he just didn’t like having me sitting with you both at lunch.”

You rolled your eyes. You couldn’t believe that Jinyoung had gone to such lengths just to be rid of Yugyeom. He had been a whole different class of idiot back then.

“That idiot.”

“So should I offer to pay him back?”

“He’ll probably deny it if you bring it up anyway,” you pointed out. If Jinyoung had bought Yugyeom lunch for two years and not said a word about it, he had definitely not wanted you to find out. Probably because he knew that you would scold him for trying to get rid of Yugyeom. “Let it be. He’s having a hard enough time.”

Yugyeom shrugged. “Okay.”

You browsed the store casually until Jinyoung returned from the fitting room with the clothes that he liked. You followed him to the payment counter and smiled as you spotted a rack of sunglasses. “Hey. Jinyoung. Check these out,” you playfully took one of the sunglasses and tried them on. They were a little too large for your face. “Don’t I look cool?”

Jinyoung raised an eyebrow at you. “It’s winter.”

“And you’re being unbelievably grumpy,” you replied with a frown, returning the sunglasses to the shelf. You glanced back to make sure Yugyeom was busy browsing something else before you lowered your voice. “Would it kill you to be a little nicer to Yugyeom? He came all the way out here just in case you faced any trouble with reporters. And he’s a perfect sweetheart. You have no reason to hate him.”

Jinyoung looked away from you as the cashier began to check out his clothes. “I don’t hate him.”

“Well, you haven’t been very nice to him.”

“He just gets on my nerves, that’s all.”

“Why?”

Jinyoung was silent for a long moment and then he sighed, his shoulders slumping a little. You were right. He had no reason to justify his irritation. Yugyeom was a nice guy. “No reason. Fine. I’ll be nicer to him. What do you want me to do? Should I buy him a drink or something?”

You blinked. “That might be nice.”

“Fine,” Jinyoung muttered as he pulled out his card to pay for the clothes. You blinked and paused, pushing his card away gently and taking out your own wallet. He raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“Let me pay,” you replied simply.

Jinyoung frowned. “No. I can pay for my own clothes-”

“Yeah, but I’ll just reduce it from the money I owe you from before,” you replied simply. You handed the cashier your own card while Jinyoung’s face paled. You nudged him. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ve been keeping account of the money I owe you. You’ll get it all someday.”

Jinyoung sighed. “Look, you don’t need to-”

“Besides,” you replied with a playful grin. “You’re the unemployed one here. It’s the least I can do.”

Jinyoung’s face turned sour. “Very funny.”

“Too soon?” you teased, as the cashier handed you the shopping bag. You thanked her and then turned around to call for Yugyeom, who was staring longingly at a pair of expensive running shoes. “Yugyeom! Come on, let’s go! We should stop somewhere and grab lunch! I’m buying!”

Yugyeom perked up. “Awesome!”

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

Jinyoung was silent during the car ride back home.

He hadn’t realized just how rudely he’d been behaving towards Yugyeom until you pointed it out, and it took Jinyoung a while to remember exactly why he disliked the younger man. Back in high school, there had been a point of time when Yugyeom had followed you both everywhere. There had been no doubt in Jinyoung’s mind that he had a crush on you. You, in turn, had always been fond of the cheerful boy.

Jinyoung had been terrified that you would start dating Yugyeom and leave him all by himself.

It all boiled down to childish jealousy.

You hadn’t been without your fair share of male admirers back then, but Yugyeom was the first boy other than Jinyoung that you’d ever actually paid attention to. It had made Jinyoung bitter. He liked  being your only friend. He liked having all of your attention. Jinyoung hadn’t wanted to share you or your time, especially not with an underclassman who only ever seemed to get himself bullied and eat your lunch.

God, he was such a child. How long had it been since Jinyoung had felt something as innocent and natural as jealousy? How long had it been since he’d craved someone’s attention the way he craved yours? You had come out shopping for him, had picked out clothes for him but Jinyoung still hated every second you looked at Yugyeom. It made his stomach burn and his blood boil.

“What are you smiling about?” you asked Jinyoung.

He glanced at you. “Huh?”

“You’re smiling to yourself. What’s so funny?” you demanded, curious.

Jinyoung shook his head enigmatically, but he couldn’t get rid of the smile that had crawled onto his face. You wouldn’t understand. You wouldn’t understand how cold his heart had turned over the past few years, or how he’d stopped feeling things like jealousy or excitement or irritation. You wouldn’t understand how this small emotion, however immature or inconsequential, made Jinyoung suddenly feel alive again.

“Hey Yugyeom,” Jinyoung leaned forward to address the man in the driver’s seat of the vehicle. “Do you have any plans this evening? Let’s drop all this shopping off at my house and go get a drink at the bar. I’ll buy you a glass of whatever’s on the top shelf.”

Yugyeom gasped. “No. Really, Jinyoung-ssi?”

Jinyoung glanced at you and the small, pleased smile on your face made his heart suddenly swell with pride.

“Call me hyung.”

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

“Hey! Ready to go?” you asked as you bounced over to Jinyoung’s desk with your bag slung over your back.

Jinyoung and Jackson had been huddled together and they both ignored you as they looked at some sort of book that they’d hidden under the desk. You tapped Jinyoung on the shoulder and he nearly jumped out of his seat, looking at you with wide eyes.

“Uh….”

“What are you guys looking at?”

“N-nothing! Just Jackson’s English textbook!” Jinyoung cried, quickly closing it and stuffing it into his backpack. Your eyes were sharp; you caught a glimpse of bare skin on the glossy magazine page and raised an eyebrow in understanding. Part of you had thought that Jinyoung was too classy to indulge in those nude magazines, but evidently he was just as much a teenage boy as the rest of them.

“And you’re putting Jackson’s English textbook in your bag because…?” you asked knowingly.

“I’m-I’m borrowing it.”

“Don’t you have your own?”

Jinyoung frowned at you, his cheeks flushing pink. He zipped his bag up and slung it over his shoulder. “I lost mine, okay? Wow, you’re full of questions today. Let’s just go home.”

You shrugged and followed Jinyoung out of the classroom. He was silent for most of the walk home and continuously avoided your attempts to make small talk You figured that he was embarrassed at having been caught looking at the magazine. Jinyoung was such an idiot sometimes. Why couldn’t he just be honest about things like that?

“You know, girls look at stuff like that too,” you piped up suddenly.

Jinyoung stared at you with wide eyes. “What?”

“I mean… not the magazines,” you replied, wincing. “But there’s other stuff. Like there’s this erotic novel that came out recently and all the girls in our class are crazy about it. I have a copy with me right now. Want to read it?”

Jinyoung’s eyes widened as you reached into your backpack and pulled out a small pink novel. It had an intimate image of a man in a suit and a woman in a ballgown embracing each other on the front. Jinyoung’s eyes widened in shock and he looked around the street nervously.

“What are you doing? Put that away!”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. Don’t freak out. It’s just a book with some sex scenes in it, would you relax?”

Jinyoung cleared his throat and avoided your gaze with flushed cheeks. “You have no shame.”

“Says the guy who was looking at naked pictures of women in class!”

Jinyoung’s eyes widened as he glanced around the street nervously to make sure nobody had heard and then snatched the small novel from your hands. “Fine. Just stop talking about it so loudly, okay?”

You giggled. “Okay.”

--------

“Jinyoung! You have a visitor!”

Yugyeom helped you and Jinyoung weave your way through the crowd of reporters that had evidently decided to camp outside the Parks’ home. Once you entered, there was a familiar face sitting in the living room. Im Jaebum was lounging on the couch and enjoying a cup of tea that Mrs. Park had made him.

“Jaebum?” Jinyoung demanded, surprised. A relieved smile spread across his face at the sight of his friend. “What are you doing here again?”

Jaebum rolled his eyes as he stood up to greet Jinyoung with a friendly hug. “If you want me to call in advance before I drop in, then you need to own a cellphone, genius,” he deadpanned. Then he turned and greeted you with a warm handshake. “Hey, it’s nice to see you again.”

You smiled. “Hi, Jaebum.”

Yugyeom poked his head into the interaction eagerly and stuck his own hand out in greeting as well. “Hi, I’m Kim Yugyeom! I’m the police officer in charge of Park Jinyoung’s safety until further notice.”

Jaebum blinked. “Huh. Interesting. My name is Jaebum, I uh… well, I guess I used to be the head of the Legal Department at GOT Group but I handed in my resignation yesterday. Now I’m about as unemployed as the next guy. The next guy being you,” he said with a playful grin towards Jinyoung. Jinyoung’s dark eyes widened in surprise.

“You resigned?” he demanded.

“I wasn’t going to stay there once they’d kicked you out,” Jaebum replied, chuckling. He patted Jinyoung on the back as he continued to stare at him in shock. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. The environment at work has been pretty toxic since they announced your dismissal and I’m tired of cleaning up the loose ends. I’m thinking I might take a break for a while and travel. My girlfriend and I are leaving for a Europe tour on Monday. She’s ecstatic that I’m finally spending time with her.”

Jinyoung swallowed. “Uh, wow. That sounds… great.”

“I thought I’d drop by and see you before I left. You doing okay?”

Jinyoung nodded slowly. “I’m fine.”

“You look a lot better than you did a few days ago,” Jaebum reassured him with a small smile. He grinned and put an arm around Jinyoung’s shoulder cheerfully. “How about we all go get a drink for old times’ sake? Maybe share some embarrassing stories about Jinyoung?”

You smiled. “That sounds awesome.”

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

[hirayaea]

ikesen fic - the inevitable correction of treading through time (chapter 1)

Summary: You and Sasuke decide to make the timeline as close to your reality the only way you know how: by making sure the the Tokugawa Shogunate happens, no matter how many tries it takes. 

— ieyasu/mc — time traveling has robbed you of truly distinct memories, mixing up everything except for the ones belonging to your 'original life'

[AO3] 

[Prologue] [Chapter 2]

元の時代

You like to call the first timeline, 'the original world'.

The other timelines you do not associated with any labels, only memories: 'the one where Ieyasu was killed through poison', 'the one where Ieyasu was killed in his sleep', 'the one where Masamune took an arrow for Ieyasu'. It would be unfair to think of them as all grim, though; you recall fairly joyous ones, too, like the time you got fed up and brought Ieyasu on a boat to Europe, but ended up in Kyushu instead. That had been a comedy, especially when his vassals tracked you down and thought you had just gone on a prolonged honeymoon.

Still, though there are moments that stand out, most of the time everything blurs together. As if reminding you of your origins, the time traveling has robbed you of truly distinct memories, mixing up everything except for the ones belonging to your 'original life'.

You can even remember Kyoto in the 21st century; the smell of the sun-kissed pavement in summer and how the city looked under the June twilight. You remember passing through Gion and the Kyoto river, the moon twinkling against its waters, restaurants lining up by the riverbank. You remember taking a picture of Honnoji on your smartphone, moments before you noticed Sasuke and the sudden torrential rain.

You remember all of these with crisp clarity, untainted by love and sadness and guilt; these memories of a girl who traveled through time and just yearned to go home.

You wonder if you'll ever be that girl again.

正しい時代

Sasuke doesn't beat around the bush.

"How many times have you repeated this life," he asks you, tilting his head downwards, as if the reflection of the candlelight on his glasses could hide the concern in his eyes. "Please tell me the truth."

You wish you could. Softly, you tell him, "I've lost count."

You don't mean to be dramatic. Surely it hasn't been a hundred times; you're unsure if you've even reached twenty. But seeing your friends die—seeing Ieyasu die—is more than one time too many.

"He keeps," your voice croaks, because you don't know how else to say it, "He keeps on getting assassinated, Sasuke. I go back to prevent the most recent one I saw, but then it gets more creative every time." Your knuckles are white against your bedsheets. "And they just keep on trying."

Up to two timelines ago, you cried when you revealed this information to him. But now, you just feel exhausted.

"Do you want to stop?"

Every Sasuke is kind enough to ask this. Your best friend is the most consistent man you know, and in caring for you, he never falters.

Still, your answer is always the same.

"No."

元の時代

In 'the original timeline', you were naive.

Though you and Sasuke spoke about making Ieyasu Shogun, neither of you really took action on it. Azuchi and Kasugayama were still at war, after all, and neither side knew about how impactful their decisions would be to the 21st century. Besides, Sasuke said it would be best to let things progress as naturally as possible, to prevent any more anomalies or paradoxes.

You agreed.

The Tokugawa Shogunate was something already permanent to you, after all; and perhaps that complacency was your first mistake. You kept on thinking it was just something that would happen eventually, because that was the history you knew.

Three years in the Sengoku era and you still had the ignorance of a modern woman.

"Stop spacing out," Ieyasu tells you, one day, as you walk hand in hand along the corridors of his castle. His mouth is frowning, but you can detect the concern in his tone. His grip hardens as he says, "It's like you're not with me today."

You realise he was a little grumpy that you were ignoring him, and you can't help feel the rush of affection that courses through you.

"Sorry," you say with an apologetic smile, "You're right. I was just thinking about the future."

He stops in his tracks, making you almost bump into his back. He doesn't look at you but he doesn't let go of your hand. "Our future?"

You blush as you realise what he meant.

"A-ah, well, yes, that too," you stammer, and immediately regret it because it sounded like an afterthought. His neck is red and you know it probably took some internal debate on his part before he was able to mutter those words. So you decide to be honest. "I was actually thinking about... the future, the one that I came from."

You hesitate, because you were actually thinking about what you learned about him in history class, about the time when he was Shogun. Ieyasu didn't like hearing about the future, thank goodness to his pride and principles, but you knew you had to continue your line of thinking before he lost his patience.

"I was thinking about how you were described, actually. What the historians wrote about you."

This is when he turns around to face you. "You know I don't need to hear this—"

You take his other hand and steady him. "I know. I won't say too much. But I just want you to know that you were respected and loved even in my time, Ieyasu. You were strong because you were yourself. If I could have fallen in love with you just because of how they wrote you, I realise now I would have."

You can see his ears flush red at your bold statement, but he does his best to keep his expression steady.

Then, you tease, "I know Sasuke sure did."

This is what makes him do his signature grumble. You laugh at his adorable expression, but he surprises you by suddenly taking you into his arms.

"It's not nice to talk about another man after you declared your love for me," he mumbles into your ear, but you know he is pleased.

You make sure you have a big smile on your face when he lets go. In fact, as his arms drop, you take the chance to grip his shoulders and lean in for a chaste kiss to his cheek.

The flush spreads nicely on his face, but Ieyasu, ever the contrarian, releases you looking sulky.

"Don't look so happy, now you've reminded me of how that ninja invaded my personal space the last time he visited."

You laugh loudly then, not knowing you would replay this conversation over and over again, the only thing in every timeline you consistently did the same because you knew you did it right.

思い出

You suppose you realised the timeline changed on the day the Emperor's adviser came to visit.

The castle was abuzz with noise worthy of a State Visit, though Sasuke would argue that is a modern term. Still, your duties as chatelaine are up to the ceiling, and you haven't seen Ieyasu in days.

All of Nobunaga's warlords are set to come today, however, and you can't deny you're a little excited. You're wearing a yellow-orange kimono with a modest Tokugawa crest on the back, a surprise you thought Ieyasu would like.

Nobunaga orders you take it off before Ieyasu sees it, however.

You almost rebel, but Nobunaga is Nobunaga, and one of the greatest things you appreciate about him is he always makes you feel like you're in the loop. "You are still my favourite Princess in their eyes," he explains, "hence it would do Ieyasu no good right now if the court thinks he has leverage to control me."

The politics of this time were so sensitive; you briefly remember your elementary school field trip to Nijo Castle and how every castle painting and scroll had a purpose: to exert power.

Still, though you understand, you don't hold back your scowl. "That's farfetched! Besides, they should know nobody controls you."

Nobunaga practically guffaws, but it is so elegant you can barely call it that. "You've come to know me so well, firecracker." He does that motion where he makes you feel extremely uncomfortable by moving close, towering over you with his face looming closely above yours, "However, perhaps if it were you, I'd be willing to make an exception."

You know he does this to get a rile out of you, so it's something you treat with exasperation more than anger, which is why you don't automatically push him away. You roll your eyes first, a retort already formed in your mind—

"Oh, are we allowed to be that close to the lass again?" Masamune all but saunters into your close quarters, and the shock makes you move backwards—into the chest of Ieyasu.

He steadies you by grasping your waist. When you look up at him he is already glaring at both Nobunaga and Masamune, but it lacks any real anger; not for the first time, you compare it to how a younger brother would be irked at two obnoxious older brothers.

"You didn't even ask her permission," he simply states.

Nobunaga and Masamune are still smirking and you almost want to thrash at them, but being a chatelaine has taught you proper etiquette, so you don't. You pout at them instead, but this makes Masamune laugh and call you cute.

Thankfully, Hideyoshi comes and puts them in their place.

"Stop teasing," he admonishes in the same tone he uses when Nobunaga has stolen candy from the kitchen. Of course, this makes neither look apologetic. "You know, I'm not going to stop her anymore if she hits one of you."

"Or both of you," Ieyasu adds.

Masamune grins and raises his eyebrows. "Oh, I wouldn't mind it if the lass hits both of us, if you know what I mea—"

"Masamune!"

"You know what, Princess? I'll hold him, you punch."

Despite everything, the entire exchange makes you feel warm, because it reminds you of why these warlords could talk like this: because they were family—and more importantly, they were your family.

You watch as Hideyoshi redirects Nobunaga and Masamune to another room, presumably to distract them. He looks at you and gives a smile, and you thank the heavens for his sensitivity.

Ieyasu's hands are still on your obi even as the others walk away. He doesn't let go, and eventually you feel a little embarrassed because the Tokugawa crest you embroidered must be staring him at the face.

"Nobunaga wants me to change," you start slowly, "because the Emperor's adviser might think it as a form of power play on your end." Gingerly, you place your hands atop his. "But I'm glad you got to see it first. I thought you'd like it."

Ieyasu is still. Then, he leans forward and rests his lips on your hair.

"Nobunaga isn't wrong," he mutters. "But thank you."

Later, when you're all dressed up in a different kimono, sitting at the corner of the dais, facing the Emperor's adviser with all the grace you can muster as a modern woman posing as a Sengoku woman, you understand why they wanted you to be careful.

"I see the rumours about the beautiful Oda Princess is true," the man says, but this is standard fare; every daimyo you have encountered has felt the need to comment on your physical appearance. It's what he says next that shocks you. "When will you marry her off for an allegiance?"

You try not to wince when they talk about you as if you're not in the room. Being sassy to the warlords was one thing, but even you know that messing with the emperor's staff could have grave consequences.

"I'll see her off when I see fit," Nobunaga replies in that powerful, lazy way of his, his underlying tone implying that the topic should be closed. "She's my lucky charm, after all."

You clench your hands, glad that they can't see your tense grip under all your sleeves.

All the other warlords are quiet, but you know they have sensed your discomfort. Ieyasu is as impassive as ever, but you read him well enough to know he's upset. Mitsunari almost gives away his worry when he glances at you far too long than necessary. Hideyoshi looks like he wants to interrupt the conversation, but the adviser changes the topic himself.

"Your methods are strange, as usual," the man says, "but regardless, the Emperor respects you. Hence my visit here." He pulls out a scroll and begins to read from it. "Oda Nobunaga, by the order of the Emperor, you are to seek his counsel and be appointed as Sei-i Taishōgun before the month ends."

The gasps across the hall are audible, but Nobunaga shows little surprise.

"The Mighty Emperor should know I just endorsed the latest of the Ashikaga clan for the Shogunate," he begins, eyes narrowing, "besides, it is my interest to unify the country, not become Shogun. Those are two different things."

You see the adviser scoff. "I think you do not understand that this is an order, not a suggestion."

"I am certain you went here knowing it would be a suggestion."

"Oda Nobunaga, I am warning you, if you do not know your place—"

His voice implies a warning and he begins to stand, but his slight movement causes every other vassal in the room to shift, and if anything else, perhaps that intimidates him.

Nobunaga is unfazed as he rises from his sitting position. He heads for the doors. "I will give the Emperor my reply by winter," he says. "If he truly wants me to become Shogun, he will have to wait until then. He is free to choose another if these terms are unacceptable to him."

There are no calendars in the palace, but you knew instinctively that the heat of each day was because of Japan's sweltering summer. You're sure it's not common practice to make royalty wait that long. Despite being at the farthest part of the dais, you could tell that the adviser is livid.

"I don't think you are in a position to bargain."

"You forget, adviser," Nobunaga's voice holds complete command over the room, "that you came to me. My ambitions are not aligned with yours, and it will take some time for me to consider if this offer is worth my time."

The shoji doors snap open, and he steps out.

Hideyoshi, as second in command, has the decency to end the session formally, and asks the crowd to transfer to a different room where dinner will be served.

When everyone begins to stand to leave, you start to process what happened. Unless you missed out on something at school, you're pretty sure Oda Nobunaga never became Shogun. This seems relevant, somehow, but before you can explore the idea you notice Ieyasu giving you a look.

He must be worried, you think, so you smile at him.

It placates him enough that he huffs and looks away.

Your mind goes back to recall a conversation you had with Sasuke years ago, early on in your stay in the Sengoku. Was this... one of the permanent changes you caused?

You sigh and make a mental note to talk over it with your ninja best friend. There was no use worrying about it until it happened.

The hall begins to empty, and you finally stand to help the servants organise the mess of tea kettles and cups left behind.

"Well, you owe us, Hideyoshi," you hear Masamune say, "Mitsuhide and I were technically right. He didn't accept the title of Shogun."

Hideyoshi's frown is obvious in his tone. "Nobunaga-sama will realize he is suited for this role. He said he'd think about it."

Mitsunari enters the conversation, "Do you really think he'll accept it during the winter?"

"It doesn't matter when he accepts it. The Ashikaga will think we've betrayed them and the clans allied to them will retaliate," Ieyasu snaps.

"Well," and it was the first time you heard Mitsuhide's voice today, "It looks like we have our work cut out for us from today on. Excuse me while I plot in my dungeon."

They begin a small meeting where they stand, and you realise you probably have to remind them to join the festivities in the other room.

As you approach their serious faces, you can't help but be amused.

You have to hand it to Nobunaga: the man's overconfidence really made history.

正しい時代

Ieyasu has always mentioned he loved your straightforwardness.

However, you wonder if telling him the truth was being too honest.

"I know it's a bit much," you try to be gentle in the reveal—well, as gentle as you can be, but how else do you tell your boyfriend that you are a time-traveling girl who jumped realities to save him? "But you know me, Ieyasu." Your voice quiets. "I would never lie to you."

Ieyasu hasn't looked at you once since you began your tale.

Masamune, however, leans back and laughs.

"You are something else, Princess," his tone is jovial, but his body is quick to take his sword out of his sheath and shove it by your throat.

This is what makes Ieyasu move.

"Let her go, Masamune," you rarely hear Ieyasu sound so menacing, but his tone is as cold as steel. His sword is on the back of Masamune's neck. His eyes are so dark in the dead of the night, even against the candlelight, and you recall a time when he started a war for you.

It is this memory that convinces you to be brave.

"It's okay, Ieyasu," you say, even though your heart skips a beat because this is the first instance Masamune really looks like he wants to kill you. But you understand the Dragon of Oshu. "He won't kill me."

The grin that comes from Masamune's face is completely predatory. "Oh? How sure are you about that, lass? You spun quite a tale, there. How do I know you're just letting Ieyasu's guard down so you can take care of him when the time is right?"

'When the time is right'—just by choosing these words, you know Masamune understands the time and effort involved in your request. By asking Ieyasu to unite Japan and be Shogun, you have thrust upon him both Nobunaga's goals and his own—both of which require patience in playing the long game. Aligning the goals would take forever to set up, and if Ieyasu was killed in an opportune moment, the power vacuum it would cause would be tremendous.

Also meaning: the opportunities it would present to other warlords would be endless.

"You know I won't do that," you look at Masamune straight in the eye. "Because you and I are the same, Masamune."

You make sure your words ring the truth.

"You and I don't desire power, only order. Also," and you get to the heart of your declaration, "You and I both believe in Ieyasu."

You see something shift in Masamune's eyes, but perhaps it is only a twinge of embarrassment. You know you have hit a nerve. Still, though it has never been mentioned before, you know it to be true—after all, in all the timelines you have been through, Masamune has never betrayed Ieyasu.

Sasuke takes this very opportune moment to descend from the ceiling.

"It is true," he says in his stoic voice, as if he has not walked in Masamune with a sword pointed towards his best friend while his idol has a sword pointed on Masamune. "Even in our original timeline, Date Masamune was known to visit Tokugawa Ieyasu on his deathbed." Sasuke looks pointedly at Masamune. "You would read him your poetry."

Ieyasu frowns. "I don't even like poetry."

Masamune blinks twice at you before turning to Sasuke. You can sense him relaxing. "Are you sure I didn't cook for him instead?"

"The history books don't record that, but there is nothing to suggest you did otherwise."

Before they can banter about something unrelated to Masamune threatening you, Ieyasu flusters. He shifts his sword which is still pointed at Masamune's nape. "Before you discuss with the ninja, I suggest you lower your sword from her neck."

Masamune's smile becomes a mischievous grin. "Only if you lower yours first."

"If you think reading poetry on my deathbed is going to stop me from killing you while you threaten my future wife—"

This makes the entire room stop.

Even Masamune, who is usually all sharp energy, stills.

Then he sheaths his sword and doubles over in laughter.

"Ieyasu, did you just propose to the Princess while you had a sword on me?"

Ieyasu lowers his sword, and the look on his face is positively mortified.

"Shut up," he mutters, ears flaming. "I haven't sheathed my sword yet. I can still kill you."

Masamune looks like he's having the time of his life. He rounds on you and places his face near yours. "Well, Princess, it looks like I better apologise to you now, while I still can." He then proceeds to place your cheek next to his, like how a cat would show affection to their owner.

You don't know if it is you or Ieyasu who sputters the first indignant, "M-Masamune!" But it is definitely Ieyasu who comes over and shoves him away.

Meanwhile, Sasuke nods.

"I am assuming you told them the truth," he says.

You try to regain some semblance of elegance, even though your cheeks are burning red. You're sure it has nothing to do with Masamune and more of because Ieyasu called you his future wife.

"Yes, well," you begin, straightening out your kimono from invisible creases, "This room has the people I know I can trust."

This seems to make Masamune smirk. "So, going back to jumping across time. Are there any other timelines where Ieyasu proposes to you?"

Ieyasu sits down next to you, still looking like he wants to shove his sword down Masamune's throat. "Of all the things you could ask..."

"Well," you try to say delicately, "There are a few where he implied—well, being together, for, you know, a long time. But this is actually the first time it has happened this way." You take his hand. "This is the first time you've called me your future wife."

Ieyasu looks like he wants to be anywhere else but in a room with Masamune and Sasuke while confessing his love to you, but when he sighs deeply you suppose he accepts that stranger things have happened.

"It's only the natural progression of things," he murmurs, like the contrarian he is, but he doesn't let go of your hand.

"As much as I am honoured to have witnessed the engagement of my most beloved General and my most important person," Sasuke sits next to Ieyasu, comfortably, and you have to roll your eyes because he probably did that on purpose. "I have to press that the four of us being together is rare, and we should take this opportunity to plan our next course of action."

Masamune sits in front of you. With Sasuke's words, his face has shifted from sly to serious. "Alright, fine. Say we believe the lass is from the future."

You scoff. "I am from the future."

"I didn't say I didn't believe you," His one eye is unfazed. "But why did you come back, lass? What was wrong with the future you were in?"

"Besides the fact that Ieyasu was assassinated?"

"Did you see who did it?"

This is where it gets difficult, every time. This is the point where you always stop, and you never tell them any more information than what you feel they need to know.

But look where that got you last time.

"These are just hired men," you motion to the direction of the garden, where two dead bodies lay in pools of blood. "But if you mean do I know who sent them, then," and you take a deep breath, "then yes, I do."

Even Sasuke leans in. "You have not told me this before."

"Because I always believed I could change it."

Ieyasu probably senses your distress. "What I said before—that still stands true. We don't have to talk about the future anymore." He grips your hand tighter. "You saving me tonight… that was more than enough."

You shake your head.

"I’ve tried keeping it from you before. But it’s clear to me now. If we want to save you, if we want to unite Japan, if I want to stay here without the guilt of changing what will happen 500 years from now, then I have to tell you."

There is a grim set to your jaw.

"We have to stop Hideyoshi from trying to kill you."

[/Chapter 1]

[Prologue] [Chapter 2]

[littlepurplechipmunk-blog]

500 years and 40 minutes Later

Chapter 1

So this kind of just popped in my head. It’s the meeting between Kagome and her mother 10 minutes after Kagome jumped in the Well for the last time after her and Inu’s forced 3 year seperation. It does not completely follow the canon ending but closely the little blurb I wrote awhile ago.

Warnings: Strong language, emotional trauma, tears and happy reunions

InuYasha/Kagome, Mama Higurashi, Sesshomaru/Rin, Sango/Miroku, Shippo/OC, Souta and Gramps

Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha or any characters except the ones I created.

—————————————————————

500 years, it had been 500 years since she had last saw this place. The home she grew up in and the home she believed she would not ever see again the day she had went back to the past, back to him. Today was the day she was going to see her family again after so long and she was nervous, scared and excited. How would her mom react? She probably believed she would never see her again. Will she be mad? She wouldn’t blame her. Looking down at her watch she realized that her younger self wouldn’t be going down the well for another 10 minutes. Her mate and brother could not believe she remembered this day with such strong clarity, everything that happened right down to the minute that she jumped down the well. She even remembered the flowers that were growing right next The well house and how many were in bloom, the sadness in her mama’s eyes even though she was happy for her and the pride that was there. There was no resentment in her Mama’s eyes that day.

Looking over to her companions for this trip, she wanted to make sure they made a good first impression. She had tried to get her mate to stay home knowing he had work to do but he wasn’t having it. Saying that he would be there when she saw her mom again knowing how important this visit was to Kagome. Stating that after 4 years of believing she would never see her family again and finding out that she could and would had short circuited her brain all those years ago causing her to pass out and not truly believe it until Sesshomaru’s mother had explained that since she was not just married to her Daihanyou; she was mated to him meant that she also gained his life span. When she pointed out that hanyou don’t live as long as youkai InuKimi has laughed out right and said yes any Normal Hanyou but InuYasha was no normal Hanyou. He was a Daihanyou and as close to full youkai with out being a full youkai. He was now as strong and powerful as his brother. He had an Alpha drive and had become as his father once was, the Inu no Taisho. He had a dual mokomoko, a true form and no longer had to fight his fathers blood. This had all happened in the 3 years she was gone. Not only did he become stronger, as strong as his full blooded half brother but he acquired the same life span meaning he could live to a couple thousand years old. Basically they age maybe half a year in looks for every 100 years. Where now she was technically older then her gramps she only looked about 21 years old and her mate looked about 25 even though he was technically almost 700 years older then her. Kimi was now into her 22 century but looked no older then maybe her early 50’s and Sesshomaru was in his second century when InuYasha was born.

Fiddling with the hem of her pale pink summer dress she suddenly found her hand grasped in a larger clawed one being pulled towards her mates lips as he kissed her fingers. “Saiai relax, everything is going to be fine.” Damn that Inu nose. Looking up into his golden gaze caught by the sun that caused them to glisten like liquid gold she sighed.

“I know Koi but it’s been 500 years since I last saw her and by the time we get up there it will only have been 10 or 20 minutes for her. She let me go fully expecting to never see me again. I’m afraid her reaction might be a bit extreme. Do you think we made the right choice? And was it really smart to bring the pups with us?” Nawing at her lip with worry she started going through her purse making sure she had everything and checking on the twin toddlers with silver hair sleeping peacefully in their dual stroller. Currently the youngest of their immediate pack Saya and Shin were Silver Inu just like their papa with the same puppy ears, in fact all their pups had the same puppy ears and were Hanyou just like their father when in reality they should be more human then youkai in fact they were more the half youkai in power. They all had the same gold eyes as their papa as well but each one had different markings. Saya and Shin were the only two whose marking were near identical, both had a red crescent moon right on their left temple which was shared by all the pups proclaiming them Inu Royalty but the twins had purple slashes going from their right eyes in a lightning bolt shape and purple bands that wrapped their right arm down their shoulders, over the breast bone and down to the left hip where it circled their waists and circled a leg each. The leg was the only difference where Saya’s circled once around her waist and wrapped her left leg Shim’s circled his waist twice and wrapped his right leg. They were beautiful, happy and very smart at only 35 years looking around 2 years of age.

“You know we had talked about this Kagome. Today is Keiko’s anniversary and Sesshomaru and Rin have a lot of council stuff to do today and you said that if any of the pups were still little when the day came you were taking them to meet their baba-san. Yes we made the right choice to wait because we could not take the chance of mama slipping up and saying something to your past self and messing up the hunt. That’s why we stayed in Russia for the last 10 years and only moved back a month ago.” Running his hand through her long raven locks that she had pulled back in a high tail. A match in style for his own hair. He pulled on her lock of silvery white that hung down by her face in a reprimand to stop fretting. After all these years Kagome had grown strong and very self assured since she stepped into her role as Lady Kagome Hime of the Western lands that it was slightly surprising to see her acting like this. Checking his watch he stood up, first picking up the manilla envelope that he had to take away from his mate an hour ago afraid she was going to ruin the precious gifts that sat inside the one, he grabbed her hand with the other and pulled her up into his body. Giving her a reassuring hug he released her with quiet chuff of ‘time to go’ and pushed her toward the corner that was just a few feet from her ancestoral home.

Taking a deep breath Kagome latched on to the stroller and started walking towards the stairs that led to her childhood home. Watching as InuYasha grasped the front of the stroller they both leaped high up and landed gracefully at the top of the steps and set the stroller down. “Wish I had been able to do that when I was younger, would have saved a lot of time and pulled muscles.” Muttered Kagome. Chuckling as he walked up beside her and wrapped an arm over her shoulders he encouraged her to get walking.

“Come on wench, lets go see your haha-ue.” Following the long rememberd path to the main house, Kagome felt the stirrings of nerves like butterflies whell up in her stomach again. Turning the last corner the led to the house she stopped and stared. There was the Goshinbuko and her mother stood underneath of it with silent tears running down her face.

Walking up to the woman who encouraged her in her younger years and let her go to the man who she knew her daughter would not be able to truly live with out she spoke, “I heard a beautiful legend once about a Hanyou who was pinned to this tree by a spiteful Priestess and was later released from the eternal spell by his true-mate whom they believed was the priestess’s reincarnation. They say the girl traveled from a different time.” Shock descended the woman’s face at those words. No one knew that legend, at least not the parts after InuYasha was sealed to the tree. But that voice, she would know that voice any where. She was her mother after all. Slowly turning her head to the woman standing next to her a gasp of surprises yearning mixed with fear passed her lips. So afraid that this was just an illusion her mind made up to help cope with the loss of her only daughter. Knowing that she should be dead in this time, she fearfully spoke.

“K- K- Kagome? Are you.... are you really here?” Reaching out to the young woman next to her with a trembling hand. So afraid to touch her, that the slightest touch would cause this vision to disappear into nothing if her fingers made contact. The young woman reached up and grabbed her hand.

“Yes mama I’m really here. I’m not going anywhere. I promise I won’t disappear.” Tears tracked her face. Her mama stopped cold and as one they both collapsed into each other’s arms as tears of happiness, disbelief and relief poured from both woman’s eyes. Standing back watching the scene of the first two women to accept him for who and what he was, tears crept up into his eyes and a soft smile flirted across his lips. She had been waiting for this day for years and truthfully so had he but I would not interrupt this moment for his own selfish want of a hug from the woman who treated him like a second son, who gave him the best gift possible in his Kagome. He would wait and watch and make sure nothing interrupted this moment for the two incredible women who first showed him how to live and how to love. Ear twitching toward his pups he heard them start to stir so he started rocking the stroller to settle them knowing his mate would stop this much needed moment to care for the twins. It was getting close to their lunch but they could sleep a bit longer. They could give their mama this time. He WOULD give her this time.

_________________________________________________ Ok so originally I was going to make this another one shot but I have a lot of ideas I want to put in this and I’m getting tired. So before I go further I could use some input. Constructive Criticism is appreciated. As well as reblogging so I can get this out there for others to read. Since I am doing this on txt post and not a docs program I’m sorry if words are spelled wrong or grammar is off. Please tell me if this is something I should continue or not. It’s very hard for me to write only when inspiration hits so please inspire me if you want more! Blessed Be and InuYasha!

@tilltheendwilliwrite

@this-kitty-has-claws

@obliteratingjune

@magellan-88

[365daysoflossworldajw]

#BrokenHolidays

Part One

Holidays aren't the same when there is a big part of your family missing. What happens when your heart JUST isn't whole? Broken heart, broken family, broken holidays. Just broken.

September

When Ari left this earth, her death left my family in pieces. The same weekend that she was killed, our parents were celebrating their anniversary. They were planning their annual trip to Atlantic City. But they could never have anticipated a celebration of their union would be ruined forever. I remember days after the accident happened, I overheard my mom explaining how she felt that night.

She shared that the night of the accident, she was having trouble sleeping. She explained that she was anxious and she didn’t know why. She thought maybe it was just stress, so she tried going back to sleep. But the feeling would not go away. She believed in the moments she was feeling anxious, the accident was happening. I truly believe that anxiety she was feeling, was from the pain that was being inflicted on Ari. I’m sure of it. The feeling my mother had was no coincidence. It was the feeling of loss, the feeling of change, the feeling of broken-ness. That is how she will always remember their last anniversary. The day of remembering a union, celebrating love, honoring the day they started our family… tarnished forever. How do you celebrate a life of love and growth when a big part of your family is missing? I cry for them, I pray for them, I do my best to be strong for them, but that day will forever be broken.

October

Remember fall got cold early? October was definitely cold and of course, dark. Because of…Halloween. During this month, I had so many dreams. It felt as though I had never dreamed before, and suddenly they were all coming at once. It could have been because the holidays were coming up and this is the time I felt lost the most.

About a week or two before Halloween I had a dream I’d never forget. In my dream, I re-lived the day that she passed. Everybody was on my lawn, in my house… everywhere. I was outside and I saw some of my friends leaning on Ari’s car. Then the dream went silent. You ever see in the movies where everything gets quick and then all of a sudden everything was in slow motion? Only in my dream, I was the one in slow motion. I turned my head to the right extremely slow and there she was. She was radiant and as beautiful as she always is. I asked “what are you doing here?” She responded “I’m only here for just one day”. As she slowly turned to make her way inside of the house she was glowing, like an actual glow. I started running after her like the kid sister I’ve always been.

She immediately went to the basement, as she was walking down the stairs I was literally on her heels. I asked, “Ari, do you watch me sometimes?” She responded, “Yes Tot, sometimes.” But her response was so like her. It was as if she was saying, girl sometimes but it’s all on you now, buck up. That’s how I knew it was her. She made her way back upstairs and now we were in the kitchen. I asked her if she was in heaven, she said yes. I asked her what it was like. She told me that getting there wasn't like what we’ve been taught. She said that God is like our father here on earth. She explained to me that when she made her way to heaven he met her up there. When she arrived, God painted a picture of her life and explained, “Ari your life was like this, you remember you went to the store and wanting a pair of shoes? You got the ones you really wanted and you should have gotten the ones you needed. That how your life was”. She said, “God is like daddy, he loves you anyway”.

After that I had some clarity, of course not complete clarity, but it was better than nothing at all. Then, memories started to appear.

Halloween

I began thinking of our childhood and all of our Halloween nights growing up. The Halloween parties, the trick o’ treating, the costumes. Ari loved Halloween. Me? Not so much. Halloween has never been my favorite. When we were little of course I enjoyed it. We always had the best costumes. I always wanted to be girly and the prissy one. Ari was always a wild card but still always looked adorable. I started thinking of moments in elementary school and how we were excited all day just to walk in the Halloween parade. I still remember Ari’s dimples and her smiling from ear-to-ear that day.

As we got older, Halloween for Ari became so effortless, but for her that wasn't new. Technically, Halloween isn't even a holiday but for some, it’s a day to just have a good time. It’s that one night you can be whoever you want to be, do whatever you want to do, to just be carefree. That was Ari. To me finding a costume to wear on Halloween was like a job. I dreaded getting invited somewhere, because I got tired of explaining to people that I came to the party as myself. But Ari always put so much effort into her costume. She came up with some really good ones too. I always would scratch my head and ask her, “like ok, is it that deep?” Her rebuttal would be as such: “Just because you wanna be corny Tot…” That left no room for me to respond, I mean she was right.

It was her thing, I wasn't mad, I just couldn't get into it. I remember we went to NOLA for Halloween for a dear friend’s wedding. Like who would of thought that we would be in NOLA for Halloween, amazing. She dressed as cat woman but regardless of what she was, she always looked mad sexy. Good for you Ari. She did that. Her creativity, her sexiness, it made her costume unforgettable every time. I know that everybody, literally everybody has a moment of Ari during Halloween.

As kids, and even as adults, we would watch ABC Family’s 13 Days of Halloween together as a family (just us girls). One of her all-time favorite movies was the Halloween classic, Hocus Pocus. That indeed was Ari’s jam and we watched that movie every year about 5 times out of the week, it was just our thing. I remember seeing that on TV for the first time after she passed and my heart dropped. The movie, that feeling I would get when watching it with her, it left, it wasn't there anymore. That moment was broken and it was never coming back. My mother was sitting next to me at the time and I could remember her asking me if it bothered me to watch it. Of course. Watching it reminded me of her and the memories that we have watching it together. But I had a little bit of joy knowing that she loved it.

That has been the hardest part. Re-living memories. But we have to. Just for her.

To honor Ari’s love of Halloween, I dressed up last year even though it was a struggle. I was a Jager girl of course. As hard as it was, when it came to Ari, LITERALLY nothing stopped the party. So why would I stop? She would say to me “Tot, you’re being corny, seriously”. So I won’t be corny, Ari. When I’m tired I’ll push for you. I’ll even put on a repeated costume.

I'll try to mend this broken holiday.

[hogwartswelcomesyou]

For all the mods, but especially the Slytherins, how do you feel about the animosity towards Slytherins?And why was it there in the first place? What do you find to be the worst part of the Snake Hate?

Tori (Ravenclaw Mod): ooo nothing’s gonna get me heated more than this. I absolutely love JK and her writing style, but I think she let the HP series fall victim to the far-too easy trope of a completely black and white story in some aspects. In order to have a black/white story of good and bad, you have to have someone/something/a group to demonize. For HP, it was the Slytherins. Her interpretation, I’m guessing, is that ambition leads to corruption which leads to evilllll. While I don’t agree with this at all, I do think this is what she did for the Slytherin characters for the majority of the series. With nearly every character we saw their desire for power overcome their moral senses, which I don’t think is fair. I think Slytherins get an unfair reputation bc people like to paint them as the villains. I think the worst part is how LITERALLY EVERY BAD GUY gets sorted Slytherin. There are so many different motivators that cause someone to turn dark, not just power. Do better. (@ everyone who thinks If someone’s evil they gotta b a snake)

Jinxy (Hufflepuff Mod): (This is more of an analysis of the fandom’s role in the problem instead of the author’s role…I’m sorry if I hurt any feelings! That is not my intention.)

I hate the animosity towards Slytherins. It’s very unfair and very unjustified. A lot of people feel that there needs to be some sort of villain whenever they read a book/watch a tv show/watch a movie/e.t.c. so that they can have a place to vent their angers and frustrations. In the Harry Potter fandom, a lot of people have decided Slytherin house is that villain (despite the plethora of clear villains like Umbridge, Voldemort, or Rita Skeeter that they could go after instead.) Slytherin is treated poorly because people need a place to show their anger/annoyance/misgivings/whatever, and they think that Slytherin is the perfect place to do so (“Hey,” they think, “Someone else is being hateful to Slytherin. That means that I can too!”)

I think that this is ridiculous because, though a group of people can be villains, there is no reason for all of Slytherin to be treated as such. Yes, there were some villains in Slytherin. Yes, the main villain of the series was a Slytherin. But guess what? So was Peter Pettigrew, and without him, Harry’s parents never would have died. Peter was a villain, and he was a Gryffindor…but you never see Gryffindor getting the hate. Plenty of Slytherins were good guys, but they’re always overlooked. The worst part about this hate (besides everything that I’ve already mentioned) is the way that many people seem to think that Slytherin is dark, edgy, and nothing more. This alienates Slytherin from the other houses, who are often portrayed in nicer lights: as being calm, and warm, and flowery. I want Slytherins who dance in pretty flowy skirts, Slytherins who pick flowers, Slytherins who name their cats after food items. I want people to stop treating them like villains and instead write sweet aesthetic posts about how Slytherins smell like citrus and lilac, decorate skinned knees with too many bandaids, and like to read mystery novels late into the night.

Tory (Slytherin Mod): I think Jinxy and Tori have tackled the wrongness of Slytherin’s reputation pretty well, so I think I’m just going to put forward my own theory as to why it is there, at least partially.

Harry, our POV character, is a Gryffindor…and so is J.K. She’s said this on record. Therefore we have a Gryffindor writing mainly about Gryffindors – yes, J.K. created the whole universe and its rules and houses, but she will still clearly and perhaps involuntarily have the most favorable view of characters like her. When you have a writing perspective that’s this narrow, it is almost inevitable that things will be seen in a slanted, narrow way. It’s the same reason why it is often discouraged to write “self-insert” characters in fiction – because not only does it make it harder for you as an author to write this character as being in the wrong, but you are less likely to see opposing points of view with clarity and show good counterarguments, thus you will never be a truly omniscient narrator. This is not an inherently bad thing, but it can make for, in Tori’s words, a very black-and-white approach…which is tragic, because the books themselves embrace shades of gray with characters like Dumbledore, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin!

So, honestly, it’s no surprise that J.K., in the beginning, showed little interest in exploring Slytherin characters (or Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw characters, tbh) – she was most attached to and interested in characters that were like her. As the book series went on, I would argue she suddenly realized how negatively the Slytherins had been depicted and tried to throw some bread crumbs our way (”See? Regulus found Voldemort’s Horcrux! And then died before we could actually meet him in canon…”, “See, Andromeda’s cool! Even though we barely see her…”, ”See, Snape was the bravest man Harry ever knew and named his son after him! Even though he was also a petty, immature bully who tormented Neville for years and loathed his one true love’s child because it resembled the other parent…”). But even in the case of “good Slytherins,” there can still be some shade thrown; Dumbledore comments that perhaps they Sorted Snape too early (because CLEARLY if he’s brave he can’t be in Slytherin, and if he’d be Sorted now he’d be in Gryffindor, the “RIGHT” house). Yes, this could hint to bias on Dumbledore’s part as he’s also a Gryffindor, but it’s not framed that way, as we never get a counterargument to the sentiment.

I don’t think anyone can deny J.K.’s disapproving attitude of Slytherin is all over the books and especially her Pottermore quiz (almost all the “negative” answers give you Slytherin points, for Christ sake) – and I wholeheartedly point to the fact that it can be very, very difficult to jump into another person’s shoes. J.K. is not a Slytherin, and as a Gryffindor (a house that can be known for solely looking inward for their code of honor and seeing things in a very black-and-white manner), it’s unsurprising that she might look at Slytherin‘s values – which in some ways are opposite to Gryffindor’s – and see them as at best  “not as important” and at worst somehow “incorrect.”

As much as we can debate Slytherin’s reputation in the books, though, I think the thing that irritates me the most is when HP fans insult and degrade RL Slytherins by comparing them to the Slytherins in the books. Guys: just because someone was sorted into Slytherin on Pottermore DOES NOT MAKE THEM RACISTS OR DEATH EATERS OR WHATEVER ELSE. Seriously. Even just being aligned with Slytherin does not mean that the person is aligning himself/herself with Death Eaters. If they’re wearing Dark Marks and crud, that’s one thing…but Slytherins =/= Death Eaters. There may be some overlap and correlation, but they are not and have never been synonyms.

Star (Hufflepuff Mod): Just gonna put it out there, Tory, one of the Slytherin mods, was my first (and one of my best) friends on tumblr. She defended me after I made a confession to a Disney blog saying I didn’t like the Lion King, and after loads of attacks from people, she told them all to shut up, and offered me her friendship. I took it, and we’ve been tight ever since. She has bought some merch from Disneyland on my behalf (and sent it to Australia!!) and I’ve bought her some Slytherin shoes! I have met and know some awful Slytherins (my cousins are mostly snakes and they’re awful people, though it’s not because they are from the snake house), but I’ve also met a couple rude and awful Hufflepuffs. Every house has its bad eggs, and JK definitely didn’t do Slytherin any favours by putting most of the bad people in it, but not every bad person is in Slytherin.

Abigail (Ravenclaw Mod): Since I sorta feel like my opinion has already been spoken by Tori, Jinxy and Tory, I just wanna say that any house can become evil, not just Slytherin. I’ve known Gryffindors that are absolutely terrible human beings, extremely mean Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws that I just do not enjoy the company of. I have also met Slytherins who have become my best friends and are some of the nicest people I’ve ever met. So it can go all around, your house doesn’t mean you’re mean or evil: it’s the person.

[our-legacy-rp-blog]

JAYLIE has been accepted for the character DELANEY ALLAWAY

An outstanding application, Jaylie! You really captured Delaney, and the amount of thought you’ve put into her character really shows. You’ve got a great eye for character detail, and we can’t wait to see where you go from here. Welcome to OL, and be sure you fill out the checklist HERE.

OOC name & pronouns: Jaylie (she/her)

Age:23

Timezone: GMT+8

IC INFORMATION:

Character’s name: Delaney Allaway

FC: Lily Collins

Position request: Seeker on the Gryffindor team (if not already filled)

Birthday: June 17. Gemini are known to represent dual natures in one. They are expressive and sociable, but also tend to suddenly get serious, thoughtful and restless. They are fascinated with the world itself, extremely curious, with a constant feeling that there is not enough time to experience everything they want to see. I think this describes Delaney very well – she’s always on the move, wanting to experience as much as she can, although at times she can also be prone to sullen moods and sudden bouts of thoughtfulness.

Wand: 11½”, Sycamore and unicorn tail hair core. A sycamore wand is always eager for new experiences and tends to lose its brilliance when engaged in mundane activities – much like its owner. Delaney is a curious witch and makes a good partner for her wand, especially since she is always challenging herself with spells that are past her level of competency (even if the results aren’t always good). Along with a unicorn tail hair core, Delaney’s wand is extremely faithful to her and enables her to produce consistent magic, although she discovered that it tends to perform better when she brings it along with her whenever she is breaking the rules or trying something new.

Patronus: Delaney has obviously tried casting the patronus charm on more than one occasion, but has never succeeded in casting a corporeal patronus. If she could, it would be a dolphin. There is an adventurous and carefree nature to the dolphin, one that is reflected in those with it as their patronus. They are often social and loved by most. They are strong and like to explore new things and meet new people. These traits are mirrored in Delaney, who is communicative and enjoys experiencing and learning new things. Dolphins also symbolise freedom and if there is one thing Delaney values, it is her freedom.

Boggart: Herself, being trapped within glass walls.

Delaney is always up for an adventure so when a few of her fellow Gryffindors asked her along to go boggart-hunting in her second year, she agreed in a heartbeat. It wasn’t as fun as she thought it would be, though, and till now she still remembers what she saw when she faced the boggart.

It was as if the boggart could sense her fear beneath her suppressed memories, ones that even she could hardly remember.  She saw herself surrounded by glass walls which were so high that they never seemed to end. She – or rather, the image of herself – pounded her fists on the walls but there wasn’t so much as a crack. Her mouth opened her mouth to cry for help, but no sound came out.

The reason is still unclear to Delaney now, but she has a subconscious fear of being trapped and unable to free herself, stemming from her younger years of being locked up in the Kinney household. Unlike now, she wasn’t allowed to make any noise or do what she wanted. One of the things she enjoys most about life is being free; having the freedom to do what she wanted, the freedom to speak her mind and express herself. Taking this away from her would be worse than asking her to run around Hogwarts in nothing but a towel (not that she has tried). She just hadn’t known how much she really feared that until she faced a boggart for the first time.

Headcanons:

When Delaney was first put into the foster care system, she couldn’t read or write. While she wasn’t underfed or physically abused, her parents didn’t teach her anything either. They spent as little time as possible with her. Being in the same room as her made them uncomfortable, therefore they avoided doing anything that would mean them being in her presence for an extended period of time and this, unfortunately, included teaching her the alphabets and numbers – things that a four-year-old would usually know by then. A kind matron acting as the temporary caretaker of the kids in the foster care system taught her how to write her own name on the fourth day she was there, and from then on, she learned something new every day, be it from the matron or the older kids. By the time the Ministry confirmed the Allaway’s adoption of Delaney, the girl could pretty much hold up her own end of the conversation, read and write basic sentences, and do simple counting.

Although Delaney loves all things dragons, her first love is, and always will be, the Antipodean Opaleyes. From the moment she laid eyes on the baby Opaleye for the first time, she knew she was in love. When its iridescent scales caught the sunlight, the then five-year-old girl had gasped involuntarily, drawing the smiles of her parents. It was the most beautiful creature she has ever seen. For the next few weeks, she spent almost every waking moment with the Opaleye until it stopped breathing fire every time she got closer and instead greeted her with a smoky snort.

Delaney wants very much to become closer to her brother, Lowry. The girl is easily satisfied and doesn’t want for much. However, if there was something she was envious of, it was her cousins’ relationships with each other. The Allaways were a big family, with aunts and uncles and cousins all living together in a communal environment. During her first day at Clarity Park, after meeting her new parents, she was told by the witch from the Ministry to stay outside and play with her cousins while the adults settle the paperwork. Still shy and reserved, Delaney sat under a tree while watching the other children. Seeing how her cousins played and protected each other in team games made her excited to have someone like that in her life as well. Afterwards, when Mimi and Sam told her that she had a brother, Delaney couldn’t keep her heart still. Even though she looked impassive on the outside, her mind was turning furiously. Would he be her protector, or she his?  It didn’t matter either way – she simply wanted someone she could play with like the cousins she saw earlier. Someone who was willing to accept her, despite the suddenness of her appearance. She didn’t understand what was it she felt then, but it broke her heart when Lowry refused to shake her hand or introduce himself that day. It broke her heart when he wouldn’t look her in the eye at breakfast the next morning, or in the days that followed. At one point in time, Delaney even thought to herself that she wouldn’t mind changing parts of her personality if it meant that Lowry would grow fonder of her. There was, however, one thing she knew she wouldn’t be able to change, even if it was to get her brother to like her…

She hates the quiet. While Lowry excels when working in silence, Delaney finds it too overwhelming and her brain always refuses to cooperate when she must do so. She always feels a need to fill in the silence and has therefore developed a habit of talking to herself whenever she’s alone. She doesn’t care much for what others think of her when they overhear her mumbling to herself; after all, it’s a free world, surely everyone is entitled to their own methods of focusing.

History:

The Kinney family were a muggle family living on the outskirts of Belfast and paying their way through honest and earnest means. Julia worked as a school teacher for younger children, while Michael was an electrician in the local neighbourhood, fixing appliances or light fixtures. They lived modestly, scrimping and saving where possible in order to have a treat every now and then - a nice dinner out, a trip to the city for the day. Julia and Michael, who had met not long after leaving school themselves, were not boastful or idealistic people: they were in love, but they also believed in the practicality of a good marriage. They could support one another and whatever family they created, and that meant something. Their first child was a boy named Caleb - healthy and happy, the young couple were overwhelmed with the pressures of first time parenthood, scrambling to understand how to take care of a baby and give it everything it needed. Though Caleb was a handful, the pair were flushed with success and quickly got pregnant a second time soon after. This time round, they were prepared – armed with experience and the know-hows of taking care of a child now, they were excited to have a second child join the family.

However, bizarre incidents followed. From the moment of her conception, Delaney was… strange. Meetings with the doctor resulted in the technology failing or the scan photos to come up blurred, distorted, or simply black. Her birth caused a power surge in the hospital, and the back-up generators were forced to kick in. Julia noticed that her pregnancy was much more tumultuous and restless than it had been with Caleb, and at one point wondered if there was something wrong, but none of it mattered when Delaney was born - a healthy girl delivered in the waiting arms of her parents, who were happy she was alright. The strange occurrences faded from the minds of her parents as the throws of parenthood began all over again - Julia and Michael were too busy to notice the signs of early magic that were happening with Delaney until it was too late. Shocked by what they saw - their baby girl making lights flicker, objects move, and on one memorable occasion, making her toy dragon shoot flames from its mouth. They were scared, and rightfully so - raised devoutly Catholic, Julia and Michael were terrified of their own daughter, and quickly fell into a pattern of neglect and fear that dominated the first few years of Delaney’s life.

She was kept away from her brother and instead forced to stay in her room under lock and key. Though only a baby and, soon, a toddler, Delaney was given little time with her parents - though fed, washed, and changed, she was largely left on her own. The girl spent most of her days by herself, locked in her room, with no one to play with or talk to. She used to cry when she was younger but as she grew older, she begun to comprehend that her parents only grew angrier and more scared of her whenever she did so, and therefore stopped. Julia and Michael feared bringing in a priest and having him confirm the worst, not to mention the unwanted attention and notoriety that a modern day possession might bring them. They were simple people; they didn’t want to create waves. So Delaney grew up a lonely but not uncared for little girl, her magic coming in spurts over the years and only serving to continue scaring her parents. It was only when Delaney left the house to receive her vaccinations that others became aware of what was happening inside the Kinney house. Delaney accidentally used magic in front of a muggle that alerted the Irish branch of the Ministry of Magic to her case - and when they came to the house to alert her family, they found her locked in her room. The conditions were terrible, and though Julia and Michael made excuses, the Ministry couldn’t sit by and let it continue.

Delaney was removed at the age of four from her family and put into the foster system for witches and wizards. Because she was so young, the Ministry actively searched for a home that would take her permanently - and that was when the name of the Allaway’s cropped up. Known for running Clarity Park, a sanctuary for magical creatures and beasts, the Allaway’s were reclusive and isolated from most of the wizarding world, but they kept a few old contacts within the Ministry for situations involving creatures. In passing, Delaney’s case was mentioned, and very quickly the Allaway’s decided to take her in. She was, after all, much like the other cases they took, albeit a human one but no less of a troubled cause. For the first time in her life, Delaney was allowed to be a child - and quickly she adapted to her new surroundings. Wild, free, and talkative, Delaney shed her old skin and became a young girl who was loud and active - traits that she had learned to suppress in order to keep her parents happy. Clarity Park was her home, and she spent days running among the pens and enclosures of the animals, learning their names and qualities.

But the one creature that captured Delaney’s attention the strongest was dragons. Clarity Park had rescued and rehabilitated several abused dragons, but Delaney’s favourite were the Antipodean Opaleye breed. Friendly, beautiful, and easy to train, Delaney handled several of the baby Opaleye’s before they were shipped off to dragon reserves, which had more space. Delaney found that she had a knack for dragon rearing and was encouraged by her parents, Mimi and Sam, to continue developing her skills with the dragons that passed through Clarity Park. For them, there was no danger in Delaney or her gifts, and they raised her like their own alongside their biological son Lowry. Mimi and Sam were hesitant to tell Delaney about her past the older she got, especially as they witnessed the changes she’d made since arriving - they didn’t want to ruin her childhood by bringing up the bad, and possibly repressed, memories from life as a Kinney. But for Delaney, these were times that she could hardly remember; she knew that the Allaway’s were not her biological family, but it didn’t matter so much when she was loved and cared for by their communal way of taking care of each other. The thought of looking for or even finding out more information about her biological family has never crossed Delaney’s mind – to her, the Allaway’s were and always will be her family.

There was, however, a downside. Delaney and Lowry did not get along, and it was, to Delaney at least, almost a one-sided competition that she wanted no part of. Though she loved Mimi and Sam and called them mother and father, she knew that Lowry came first to them and was not envious of that position. She understood that she was the intruder in Lowry’s life and gave him a wide berth, hoping that, with time, they might become friends. But Lowry never softened, and instead seemed to only grow colder toward Delaney over the years. When the time came to head to Hogwarts together, Delaney thought that it would bond them - but it didn’t. Gryffindor called to both of them, and Lowry seemed angry that they were once more stuck together. She watched as he made friends with other people and pretended like they weren’t family - a blow that stung and left her to make friends with others in his absence. Although it wasn’t all bad for Delaney as Hogwarts allowed her to focus her magic, the wild thing inside of her that had caused so much trouble, she also knew that she would never stop trying to bridge the distance between her and Lowry.

Taking to her subjects eagerly, Delaney found her stride in subjects like Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, and Transfiguration - things that tapped into her strengths or allowed her to challenge herself. And it became clearer over the years that her direction in life lay with dragons, and that one day she might be a dragon trainer herself at a reserve. But the time between the present and that dream was a long one, and Delaney set about working hard and proving herself a strong witch. A dedicated student, an active and athletic person, as well as someone who always seeks to better themselves, Delaney is a proactive Gryffindor who embodies the traits of her house. Talkative, friendly, and with a wicked sense of humour, Delaney is type of person to be at the forefront of social events, conversation, and extra curriculars. She wants to be bold and live without fear, learning from her early years with her family - she never wants to feel as though she can’t be herself, and freely encourages others to do the same. For Delaney, each day is important, and she tackles it with a fierce heart and a steadfast belief that anything is possible.

Now:

If someone were to bring up the topic of werewolves in a conversation with her, Delaney would refuse to take sides. For some reason, they always remind Delaney of dragons – the same words used to describe the dragons once upon a time are now also being used to label the werewolves. They are beasts – too fierce, unpredictable, dangerous, and uncontrollable. The solution to that were the dragon reserves. Dragons kept in captivity and studied. If the werewolves and wizarding community cannot find peace with each other, is it going to end in the same way? Only it would be worse, because werewolves are not beasts, at least not in Delaney’s eyes. They feel, they think, they talk – in a common language with wizards and witches alike. Some of them are born a werewolf, some are made, but not all are happy with their circumstance, not all hold the same extremist views as the culprits who have been making headlines of late. It is frustrating, to say the least, hearing all the negative press about the current state of the wizarding world.

Not one to remain fixed for long, Delaney chooses not to dwell on it and instead focus on other things like getting out of detention, quidditch, and getting those grades which she needs to pursue a future as a dragon keeper. Throwing herself into schoolwork and extra curriculars, Delaney strives to live each day without regret. She simply wishes to experience as many things as she can while she is still able to. Straightforward with her feelings (though some would call her tactless) and with an inability to turn down a challenge, the Gryffindor often finds trouble following her even if she doesn’t mean to cause any. However, she has no time for anything that slows her down or anyone who would stop her from achieving her goals. Ultimately, family and friends will always be her priority, and she will protect them no matter what it takes.

[joshuabradleyn]

The Importance of Self-Acceptance on Body Image

The Importance of Self-Acceptance.

“We can’t hate ourselves into a version of ourselves we can love.” ― Lori Deschene

In order to unconditionally love your body, you’ll need to acknowledge and accept your whole inner self. Literally all of it, including the parts that you currently consider completely fucking unacceptable.

It’s a tall order, I know.

Accepting isn’t the same as loving, though. Accepting just means you acknowledge the reality and existence of everything about who you are with open arms and compassion, and without resistance.

It’s worth noting here that accepting something about yourself isn’t the same thing as giving up on self-improvement, or resigning to never changing it. Again, it’s just acknowledging that this part of yourself exists, and more importantly, that this part of yourself doesn’t make you any less worthy of love, connection, or belonging.

Most people fall into the trap of thinking that the only appropriate way to meet a perceived “flaw” is with rejection, resentment, resistance, and judgement. The hope is that by not accepting the truth of who they are, they will “motivate” themselves to change. Sadly, the exact opposite tends to be true.

Changing something about yourself is actually extremely difficult when you reject and condemn it. Likewise, it’s pretty damn easy when you’ve truly accepted it, and recognize that it’s existence doesn’t make you any less worthy of connection.

Let’s use weight loss as an example.

Let’s say you hate the weight you’re at right now, you consider it completely unacceptable, and you’re fully convinced it makes you less worthy of love, respect, care, and belonging. Despising what you see in the mirror every day, you join a gym in a burst of hate-fueled motivation. Desperate to lose the weight quickly, you show up every day, pushing your body past its limits, and cutting way back on calories. After about two weeks your body is exhausted, you’re starving all the time and have massive cravings, and when you step on the scale you haven’t lost as much as you feel like you “should” have, given how miserable you are.

So what happens? You dive face-first into a late night binge at Taco Bell, and wake up the next morning feeling so utterly defeated and worthless that you never go back to the gym again. “Why bother?” you think, furious with yourself for being too weak to succeed yet again.

Now let’s look at what happens if you accept your weight. You might think “this is the weight I am at right now, and it’s perfectly acceptable and understandable, and it doesn’t make me any less worthy of love, respect, acceptance, kindness, and belonging.” Along with that thought, you might notice that your moods, energy, and mental clarity have been a bit low, and that you get winded easily. Noticing this, and also accepting your current weight, you think “I am worthy of having better care, more energy, and a more active life.” You join a gym but decide to take it slow. You showing up twice a week to the gym for months, staying within a conservative level of effort until you’ve built a solid exercise habit, on top of making a few very subtle changes to your diet, like focusing on getting more vegetables and cutting out soda.

What happens? Over time you see results: better sleep, more positive moods, more energy, increased strength and endurance. Motivated by these results, you continue showing up and feeling good. Over the long term the composition of your body naturally changes, perhaps losing some fat and gaining some muscle. You enjoy these changes to your shape or size, but you also recognize that in and of themselves, they don’t make you any better, happier, or more worthy of love, acceptance, or belonging.

Do you see how much easier it is to make positive changes from a place of acceptance, rather than rejection? It may seem counter-intuitive, but resisting, resenting, shaming, and judging yourself for who you are in this moment is never going to lead to positive change.

So let’s talk about self-acceptance.

Our society teaches us generally what it means to be a good/normal person, and we are often shamed or punished for the ways in which we diverge from that definition.

While the specifics of what it means to be “good/normal” is different across cultures, races, religions, and genders, from an early age, we are constantly comparing what we notice inside of ourselves to the cultural definition of “good/normal.” When we find things inside ourselves that go against the messages we’ve received about what is “good/normal,” we tend to categorize it as “bad” and “unacceptable.” To avoid punishment or shame, we try to hide those things, banish them from our psyches, bury them deep down, or even deny their very existence in the hopes that they will eventually go away.

They don’t, of course.

The key to the parts of ourselves that we reject and deny is that we unconsciously (or consciously) believe they pose a threat– most often that threat is to connection itself. It feels like if anyone ever found out about that part of us, they would hate us, abandon us, reject us, or punish us.

Let’s take the example of a man, who is brought up with the message that a good/normal man is masculine, stoic, self-sacrificing, and silent. This man might find within himself bits of sensitivity, weakness, fear, emotions, and insecurity, and decide that in order to keep his status and connections safe, he must push all of those bits of himself down into oblivion, and deny their existence forever. Those parts of himself might become so loathsome to him, so dangerous and disgusting, that he finds himself resenting anyone else, male or female, who displays these traits, and find himself drawn to hyper-masculinity in the form of violence, porn, and an obsessive need to look big, strong, and powerful.

A woman on the other hand might get the message that in order to be “good” she must be small, delicate, passive, feminine, and selfless. Afraid of all the non-small, non-passive parts of her that she discovers inside, she becomes terrified that her very existence poses a threat to connection and belonging. She takes all of her aggression and “selfishness” (aka her strong sense of self and boundaries) and stuff them down out of reach, along with her needs, desires, intuition, anger, sexuality, and voice. She skates down the middle, careful to be enough of something, but never too much. Confident, but not too confident. Funny, but not too funny. Successful, but not too successful.

It’s not only cultural messages which teach us to reject parts of ourselves, either.

Many of us have specific memories of being shamed for something about our personalities, behavior, or bodies which we tagged forever as “unacceptable.”  Maybe your sister always called you dumb, or your dad used to comment on your unladylike manners or your mom worried about your weight. Whatever it was, these moments land in our brains as red flags for disconnection, letting us know that something about who we are is dangerous and we must stay on high alert to fight it off.

Self-acceptance isn’t easy. But it is absolutely a requirement for healing body image and walking around with an unconditional sense of self-worth.

If you still carry shame for any part of who you are– whether it’s about the kind of sex you fantasize about, or how much you want out of life, or how hungry you are for intimacy or attention, or how unkind you can be in your own mind– you will always need an outlet for that self-rejection.

Your body will always be a convenient location for your self-hatred, offering a tidy distraction and protection from the truth of your own hatred.

Think of it like this: all the parts of yourself that you reject get locked away in a corner of the deep dark basement of your psyche and treated like garbage with no food, no light, no human contact for years.

You, (the You who lives on the 5th floor of your psyche, with sun streaming through your windows enjoying the view and getting on with your life) rarely think about the basement. You’re far too busy with work and family and relationships and hobbies and routines and life.

So you carry on, happy-ish, thinking you did the right thing by locking those parts of yourself in the basement.

But two terrible things happen.

The first is that you are desperately lonely, and always feel like something is missing. People who meet you and don’t like you make you feel worse, because you’re paranoid that they suspect, or can tell, about the parts of yourself you have banished to the basement, and you live in fear that they know and already hate you.

People who meet you and like you make you feel guilty, because you know you’re pulling the wool over their eyes, and that they would despise you if they ever knew the truth of who you really are.

You meet people all day, unable to fully connect with any of them, no matter how they treat you, because you are constantly distracted by guarding your secrets, and are never able to be fully authentic anyway, because you have far too much to hide and protect.

The second is that sometimes you are there happily working on the fifth floor and you think everything is fine, when you suddenly hear screaming coming from the basement: blood-curdling, primal raging enemy-screams.

One might call these moments shame spirals, “imposter syndrome,” anxiety/depression, self-loathing, beating yourself up, or bad body image days. They arise when you remember that these severed parts of yourself (fueled with rage and hatred for having been chained up in the dark for so long) exist, which means that you are inherently a monster.

Plus, occasionally, one or more of your basement captives will break loose and take over the whole building with extraordinary violence in vengeance for the war you have waged against them, leading to exquisite levels of self-sabotage and out-of-control bad decision-making.

Self-acceptance is about recognizing that we all have these parts of ourselves, that they’re normal and natural, and that (if you don’t wage war on them first) they’re not dangerous.

We all have flaws. We all have the capacity for unkindness, gross habits, and weird shit that we like and want and do and are. These parts of ourselves do not make us lessworthy of love, connection, or belonging.

Self-acceptance is about letting those parts of ourselves out of the basement, raising the white flag of peace, and gently integrating them into our sense of self.

What happens when you do this is that you restore yourself to psychic wholeness, and stop being afraid all the time. When you stop hiding and protecting your secrets, you can connect with people more fully– so the feelings of loneliness and isolation cease, and those moments of “I am worthless garbage” ease up.

Don’t get me wrong. Self-acceptance takes courage, patience, compassion, and tons of self-examination. But it’s worth it, because on the other side of self-acceptance you actually have access to unconditional body love, confidence, wholeness, aliveness, and a deep feeling of unshakeable, unconditional self-worth.

The post The Importance of Self-Acceptance on Body Image appeared first on Jessi Kneeland.

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[johnclapperne]

The Importance of Self-Acceptance on Body Image

The Importance of Self-Acceptance.

“We can’t hate ourselves into a version of ourselves we can love.” ― Lori Deschene

In order to unconditionally love your body, you’ll need to acknowledge and accept your whole inner self. Literally all of it, including the parts that you currently consider completely fucking unacceptable.

It’s a tall order, I know.

Accepting isn’t the same as loving, though. Accepting just means you acknowledge the reality and existence of everything about who you are with open arms and compassion, and without resistance.

It’s worth noting here that accepting something about yourself isn’t the same thing as giving up on self-improvement, or resigning to never changing it. Again, it’s just acknowledging that this part of yourself exists, and more importantly, that this part of yourself doesn’t make you any less worthy of love, connection, or belonging.

Most people fall into the trap of thinking that the only appropriate way to meet a perceived “flaw” is with rejection, resentment, resistance, and judgement. The hope is that by not accepting the truth of who they are, they will “motivate” themselves to change. Sadly, the exact opposite tends to be true.

Changing something about yourself is actually extremely difficult when you reject and condemn it. Likewise, it’s pretty damn easy when you’ve truly accepted it, and recognize that it’s existence doesn’t make you any less worthy of connection.

Let’s use weight loss as an example.

Let’s say you hate the weight you’re at right now, you consider it completely unacceptable, and you’re fully convinced it makes you less worthy of love, respect, care, and belonging. Despising what you see in the mirror every day, you join a gym in a burst of hate-fueled motivation. Desperate to lose the weight quickly, you show up every day, pushing your body past its limits, and cutting way back on calories. After about two weeks your body is exhausted, you’re starving all the time and have massive cravings, and when you step on the scale you haven’t lost as much as you feel like you “should” have, given how miserable you are.

So what happens? You dive face-first into a late night binge at Taco Bell, and wake up the next morning feeling so utterly defeated and worthless that you never go back to the gym again. “Why bother?” you think, furious with yourself for being too weak to succeed yet again.

Now let’s look at what happens if you accept your weight. You might think “this is the weight I am at right now, and it’s perfectly acceptable and understandable, and it doesn’t make me any less worthy of love, respect, acceptance, kindness, and belonging.” Along with that thought, you might notice that your moods, energy, and mental clarity have been a bit low, and that you get winded easily. Noticing this, and also accepting your current weight, you think “I am worthy of having better care, more energy, and a more active life.” You join a gym but decide to take it slow. You showing up twice a week to the gym for months, staying within a conservative level of effort until you’ve built a solid exercise habit, on top of making a few very subtle changes to your diet, like focusing on getting more vegetables and cutting out soda.

What happens? Over time you see results: better sleep, more positive moods, more energy, increased strength and endurance. Motivated by these results, you continue showing up and feeling good. Over the long term the composition of your body naturally changes, perhaps losing some fat and gaining some muscle. You enjoy these changes to your shape or size, but you also recognize that in and of themselves, they don’t make you any better, happier, or more worthy of love, acceptance, or belonging.

Do you see how much easier it is to make positive changes from a place of acceptance, rather than rejection? It may seem counter-intuitive, but resisting, resenting, shaming, and judging yourself for who you are in this moment is never going to lead to positive change.

So let’s talk about self-acceptance.

Our society teaches us generally what it means to be a good/normal person, and we are often shamed or punished for the ways in which we diverge from that definition.

While the specifics of what it means to be “good/normal” is different across cultures, races, religions, and genders, from an early age, we are constantly comparing what we notice inside of ourselves to the cultural definition of “good/normal.” When we find things inside ourselves that go against the messages we’ve received about what is “good/normal,” we tend to categorize it as “bad” and “unacceptable.” To avoid punishment or shame, we try to hide those things, banish them from our psyches, bury them deep down, or even deny their very existence in the hopes that they will eventually go away.

They don’t, of course.

The key to the parts of ourselves that we reject and deny is that we unconsciously (or consciously) believe they pose a threat– most often that threat is to connection itself. It feels like if anyone ever found out about that part of us, they would hate us, abandon us, reject us, or punish us.

Let’s take the example of a man, who is brought up with the message that a good/normal man is masculine, stoic, self-sacrificing, and silent. This man might find within himself bits of sensitivity, weakness, fear, emotions, and insecurity, and decide that in order to keep his status and connections safe, he must push all of those bits of himself down into oblivion, and deny their existence forever. Those parts of himself might become so loathsome to him, so dangerous and disgusting, that he finds himself resenting anyone else, male or female, who displays these traits, and find himself drawn to hyper-masculinity in the form of violence, porn, and an obsessive need to look big, strong, and powerful.

A woman on the other hand might get the message that in order to be “good” she must be small, delicate, passive, feminine, and selfless. Afraid of all the non-small, non-passive parts of her that she discovers inside, she becomes terrified that her very existence poses a threat to connection and belonging. She takes all of her aggression and “selfishness” (aka her strong sense of self and boundaries) and stuff them down out of reach, along with her needs, desires, intuition, anger, sexuality, and voice. She skates down the middle, careful to be enough of something, but never too much. Confident, but not too confident. Funny, but not too funny. Successful, but not too successful.

It’s not only cultural messages which teach us to reject parts of ourselves, either.

Many of us have specific memories of being shamed for something about our personalities, behavior, or bodies which we tagged forever as “unacceptable.”  Maybe your sister always called you dumb, or your dad used to comment on your unladylike manners or your mom worried about your weight. Whatever it was, these moments land in our brains as red flags for disconnection, letting us know that something about who we are is dangerous and we must stay on high alert to fight it off.

Self-acceptance isn’t easy. But it is absolutely a requirement for healing body image and walking around with an unconditional sense of self-worth.

If you still carry shame for any part of who you are– whether it’s about the kind of sex you fantasize about, or how much you want out of life, or how hungry you are for intimacy or attention, or how unkind you can be in your own mind– you will always need an outlet for that self-rejection.

Your body will always be a convenient location for your self-hatred, offering a tidy distraction and protection from the truth of your own hatred.

Think of it like this: all the parts of yourself that you reject get locked away in a corner of the deep dark basement of your psyche and treated like garbage with no food, no light, no human contact for years.

You, (the You who lives on the 5th floor of your psyche, with sun streaming through your windows enjoying the view and getting on with your life) rarely think about the basement. You’re far too busy with work and family and relationships and hobbies and routines and life.

So you carry on, happy-ish, thinking you did the right thing by locking those parts of yourself in the basement.

But two terrible things happen.

The first is that you are desperately lonely, and always feel like something is missing. People who meet you and don’t like you make you feel worse, because you’re paranoid that they suspect, or can tell, about the parts of yourself you have banished to the basement, and you live in fear that they know and already hate you.

People who meet you and like you make you feel guilty, because you know you’re pulling the wool over their eyes, and that they would despise you if they ever knew the truth of who you really are.

You meet people all day, unable to fully connect with any of them, no matter how they treat you, because you are constantly distracted by guarding your secrets, and are never able to be fully authentic anyway, because you have far too much to hide and protect.

The second is that sometimes you are there happily working on the fifth floor and you think everything is fine, when you suddenly hear screaming coming from the basement: blood-curdling, primal raging enemy-screams.

One might call these moments shame spirals, “imposter syndrome,” anxiety/depression, self-loathing, beating yourself up, or bad body image days. They arise when you remember that these severed parts of yourself (fueled with rage and hatred for having been chained up in the dark for so long) exist, which means that you are inherently a monster.

Plus, occasionally, one or more of your basement captives will break loose and take over the whole building with extraordinary violence in vengeance for the war you have waged against them, leading to exquisite levels of self-sabotage and out-of-control bad decision-making.

Self-acceptance is about recognizing that we all have these parts of ourselves, that they’re normal and natural, and that (if you don’t wage war on them first) they’re not dangerous.

We all have flaws. We all have the capacity for unkindness, gross habits, and weird shit that we like and want and do and are. These parts of ourselves do not make us lessworthy of love, connection, or belonging.

Self-acceptance is about letting those parts of ourselves out of the basement, raising the white flag of peace, and gently integrating them into our sense of self.

What happens when you do this is that you restore yourself to psychic wholeness, and stop being afraid all the time. When you stop hiding and protecting your secrets, you can connect with people more fully– so the feelings of loneliness and isolation cease, and those moments of “I am worthless garbage” ease up.

Don’t get me wrong. Self-acceptance takes courage, patience, compassion, and tons of self-examination. But it’s worth it, because on the other side of self-acceptance you actually have access to unconditional body love, confidence, wholeness, aliveness, and a deep feeling of unshakeable, unconditional self-worth.

The post The Importance of Self-Acceptance on Body Image appeared first on Jessi Kneeland.

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[fadingfartconnoisseur]

Our Journey to a Six-Figure Online Business

When we first started this blog back on February 17, 2012, we had no idea what it would become. Our initial goal was simply to earn $1,500USD per month from the blog, which would’ve been just enough to cover our expenses at the time, so that we could travel in a financially sustainable way.

A couple of years later, as the blog started to grow, we heard of a few other travel bloggers who were earning six figures per year from their blogs. These “six figure travel bloggers” became our mentors (without them knowing it in most cases) and we set our sights on the goal of earning $100K USD per year from our travel blog.

  Deb from ThePlanetD, one of our mentors in the beginning, and still is

  At the time, the dream seemed distant and unattainable. After a full year of working on Goats On The Road, we were only making around $1,000 per month, so it seemed that we had set the bar too high. Instead of focusing on the massive task of building a six-figure business, we started smaller and focused on other milestones first. Milestones like reaching 30,000 unique visitors per month, getting seen on big media like CNN and Lonely Planet and earning enough to at least be sustainable.

Surprisingly though, just 5 years after starting our blog, we reached our goal. 2016 was the first year that we made over $100,000 USD from our blog and online business and in 2017 we’re projecting an even higher income.

So why am I telling you this? Am I writing this post to brag?

No.

If you’ve been following this blog for a while, you’ll know that we’re always 100% transparent with our income, not to show off, but to show others.

Relevant Reading: The Washington Post on Why it’s Taboo to Talk Income & How This Taboo Effects Income Equality

We tell people all the time that starting a blog was the best thing that we’ve ever done and everyone should follow in our footsteps. But why should you invest your time and money into starting your own blog if you have no idea how successful it can be?

It’s like if I was trying to convince you to invest in a stock, but I gave you no statistics, projections or hard data to back up my claims for an upside, and help you make the decision. I’d be a pretty poor stockbroker wouldn’t I?

We’re transparent about our income so that we can inspire others to start a blog and live this lifestyle too. The fact that it’s taboo to talk about money in western society isn’t lost on us. It’s so ingrained in us that it still feels strange to talk about salary. But clarity is the key to showing others what is financially possible in any industry.

Too many people still believe that travel blogging is nothing more than a hobby and that you can’t earn real money from it. That’s not true. If more bloggers were clear about their income, then more people could hop on the train and enjoy this life. This industry has exploded over the past decade and there are many people making a great income from blogging.

In this article I’m going to be completely clear not just about the overall income of our blog, but exactly where we earn it from and how much work it took.

Ever since we made our very first dollar from blogging, I’ve kept extremely detailed Google Spreadsheets to track our income and our progress. I’ve broken the charts down into categories and I’m going to use this historical data to show you our journey to a six-figure blog, from the first penny to today.

See Also: From Hobby To Career: The Complete Evolution of Our Blog

You’ll notice from the data in this post that around 52% of our income is earned directly on the Goats On The Road blog, while the remainder is earned through a side content creation and blog management venture. All of our income streams are deeply integrated into Goats On The Road and in many cases, the earnings from those outside sources also include promotion on this blog and its social media channels. The two are so intertwined that we consider all of it as profit for Goats On The Road. More on this later in the post.

For More About Travel Blogging

Our Journey to a Six-Figure Online Business

Top 5 Most Important Investments For a Growing Blog

Boost Your Blog Traffic With This 6 Day Success Schedule

Explode Your Social Following Numbers With This 6-Day Success Schedule

3 New Year’s Resolutions That Can Be Achieved By Starting a Blog

How & When To Monetize Your Travel Blog

Reasons Why You Should Start a Travel Blog

How To Start a Travel Blog (Cheaply) in Minutes!

How Much Money Can You Make From a Travel Blog?

9 Tips for Travel Blogging on the Move

10 Frequently Asked Questions About Travel Blogging

The Ultimate Travel Blogger’s Guide To Guest Posting

Our Introduction To Blogging

It was on December 22 of 2011 when we first heard about travel bloggers earning an income. We were sitting at an internet cafe in New Delhi India at the time (as you did in 2011), escaping the heat and surfing around looking for flights.

Back then, I was the planner (nowadays Dariece does more of the travel planning), so I was searching around looking for flights and trains to get us around India. Suddenly Dariece said:

“Nick come here. You gotta see this.”

She was reading This Post by Johnny Ward of OneStep4Ward and in it, he explains how he earned $3,000 per month from blogging. $3,000 per month! That was more than double what we were spending to travel around the world on a budget at the time.

“You have to start a travel blog for us.” Dariece exclaimed, seemingly oblivious to the fact that I knew nothing about web hosting, website design or WordPress.

Nevertheless, a few months later we started our blog on the island of Koh Phangan in Thailand. Looking back now, that was easily the biggest turning point in both of our lives.

 What You Can Learn: It’s never too late to start a blog. If you have an interest that you’re passionate about, start a blog today and see where it takes you. 

We Almost Quit

After spending hours upon hours adding photos, writing articles, creating pages, editing menus and designing our blog, we were still hardly getting any traffic and nobody really cared. It was partly because most of our blog posts were just diary entries, partly because there wasn’t as much online blog help as there is today, and partly because we were terrible writers and photographers.

Like many bloggers, we were ready to give up… or at least I was.

I pretty much did quit at one point. We were teaching English in China at the time and I felt busy enough with the job and figured that the blog was going to die out anyway. Then, one day we had a big boost in traffic. 200 page views in a day!

That sparked something in me to keep going, but over the years there have been numerous times when the blog has felt stagnant and we weren’t sure if we could continue.

We stuck with it and today, the blog is our sole income source and affords us a life of full-time travel and experiences. This is why my biggest tip for all new bloggers is to stick with it. At times, it will feel like you’re not getting any traffic, or you can’t write, or you’re not getting any social media followers. That’s just the way it goes!

What You Can Learn: It takes an incredibly long time to get started and it can feel like an eternity when you have doubts in your mind. Believe in your blog, keep learning, growing and expanding. If you put in the effort and stick with it, it will turn into something.

The First Penny

The very first money we ever earned from Goats On The Road was on December 6th, 2012 just nine and a half months after starting the blog. Dariece and I decided to open a little shop on Goats On The Road where we sold some T-shirts, calendars, notepads and pens with our logo on them.

Back then, only family and friends were reading our blog, but they generously purchased some items that amounted to $588 by the end of the month.

We don’t really count that as our first blogging income though, mainly because it was all friends and family feeling bad for us bumming around the world.

The first month that we count our income is when we joined an advertising Facebook group with some other bloggers and started earning some real ad revenue. That was in June of 2013, at the time we had 9,840 unique visitors in the month and we managed to earn $508.

 What You Can Learn: Even though we only sold products to our friends and family, it gave us a bit of an extra push to grow the blog further. Don’t be afraid to create products and try to earn some money even before you have a real following. You can learn a lot from opening a shop and understanding the logistics of earning income online.

Annual Income Breakdown

Our traffic, our newsletter subscribers, our social media following and our online presence has all gone up by this point, and with them, our income.

But the real breakthrough for our blog came in 2016 when we decided to scale parts of our business and really treat Goats On The Road like a company. You can see from the data below that our income has increased by 100-300% year after year until 2017. I’ve only estimated our income for 2017 based on a projection of our year-to-date revenue, so who knows, maybe it’ll be another 100-300% increase by the end of the year (fingers crossed ).

2013 Income: $8,264

2014 Income: $23,248

2015 Income: $55,318

2016 Income: $103,635

2017 Projection: $144,400

In 2014 we started to become sustainable with our income averaging $2,000 per month. This was fantastic for us at the time, especially because we were house sitting and therefore getting free accommodation to keep our costs down.

While we were in Grenada house sitting, our goal was to make it to $5,000 per month, which we managed to do by the end of 2014. Our income stayed around that level for more than a year, until we finally we had a breakthrough in 2016.

As our income changed, so too did our travel style. We found that we no longer wanted to stay in dirty double rooms with shared bathrooms and found ourselves opting for more expensive private bathroom double rooms in more boutique-style hotels.

We still wanted to have local experiences, eat local food and support local communities as we’ve always done, but we quickly realized that backpacking on a budget is great, but this is our life and if it’s going to be sustainable for decades to come, then we need to be comfortable.

 What You Can Learn: As your business and income grows, feel free to grow with it. If you love $4 / night places and you think it’s sustainable to live in them long-term, great! But if you value your comfort, you should consider changing your travel style as your finances grow.

Hiring Help

Midway through 2016 we were starting to feel overwhelmed with the work that we had. We managed to get many clients on board with our side venture of helping other companies to grow their blogs and social media. But we had so much work to do that we couldn’t take on new clients, even if they were contacting us and offering us money.

We already had VAs (virtual assistants) for over a year at this point, but we mostly had them doing work on our own site. It was time that we hired writers and employees who we could train to help us with other aspects of our business.

This was a real financial breakthrough for us and it allowed us to take on more work and scale the business. In June of 2016 we had six employees hired on Goats On The Road and we hit our first five-figure month. We were over the moon about it and because we had grown this income from sources that were paying us consistently, we were confident that we could continue to earn $10,000 per month or more, every month.

 What You Can Learn: Hiring people to scale your business and help you grow is essential to expanding an online business. As soon as you have some extra income coming in from your blog, you should hire people to help you, either with tasks on your own blog and social media, or for your work with other companies.

READ MORE: Top 5 Most Important Investments For a Growing Blog 

Overhead

As with all companies, Goats On The Road does have overhead expenses that seem to grow with our income over time. Currently we pay our writers and our VAs, we have an advertising budget, we pay a lot for hosting, email marketing, web design and developement and some social tools as well.

Back in 2013 when we first started earning income, our overhead was next to nothing. But at that time we were doing everything ourselves. With a business like this one, run by only two people, doing everything ourselves simply isn’t sustainable.

Currently our total overhead costs hover at around $2,500 – $3,000 per month. We do consider a six-figure income to be gross income. However, having said that, our annual income over the past 12 months has been over six figures after all expenses.

 What You Can Learn: As a business grows, so too does the overhead expenses. Don’t be afraid to invest more and more money into your business as it grows. If you’re investing wisely, the more you put in, the more money you stand to earn. There is always some level of risk in entrepreneurship. Take risks, invest in ads, design and development and see where it takes you.

How Do We Earn Money?

I’ve read so many articles written by other bloggers about how much they make and I find them extremely inspiring (which is part of the reason I’m writing this one), but I have noticed that very few of them actually break down their income streams to show how they earn money from their blogs and online businesses.

Looking For More Inspiration?

Here are a few of my favourite bloggers who are very transparent about their income:

Nora Dunn: Annual Income Reports & Financial Case Studies

Tim Leffel: Secrets To Earning Six Figures

Yeison Kim: Journey To a Six-Figure / Year Blog

Forbes: How Travel Blogger Johnny Ward Earns $1,000 / Day

Neverending Voyage: Financial Case Study w/ Nora Dunn

Expert Vagabond: How I Get Paid (six figures) To Travel

yTravelBlog: How We Make Money (six figures) Travel Blogging

I believe that if the goal is to show others how blogs can earn money, it’s important to not only show the numbers, but where those numbers come from. The below chart is a breakdown of 2017 so far and where our income comes from.

Our income streams are broken down into six main categories:

Press Trips: Press trips are when we’re hired by a tourism board to explore a country. We are always offered complimentary flights, accommodation, food, travel and tours during these trips and lately, we’re also being paid a salary on top of that. The amount we get paid per campaign ranges from $1,750 – $7,000 USD, depending on the amount of deliverables (photos, social media shares, articles & videos) we’re expected to produce.

Affiliates: This is by far our favourite earning method and luckily it is currently our biggest. Who doesn’t enjoy earning money while they sleep? Affiliate marketing keeps this blog running and it’s a win-win for us and you, our readers. We recommend cool products and services on this blog that we use as travellers. If a reader clicks on a link in our recommendation and ends up purchasing said product or service, we receive a small affiliate commission, but it doesn’t cost the reader extra. In fact, we often have special discounts for our readers as well. Around 70% of our affiliate income comes from Bluehost, and the rest is divided between World Nomads, Booking.com, Trusted Housesitters, Amazon, TEFL Courses and some random partners.

Product Sales: I’m currently working on an epic 400 page eBook about (you guessed it), how to build a blog into a six-figure per year business. As of now we have one eBook for sale on Amazon for $20 and it accounts for a few sales each month, but really not much income. We’re hoping to grow this part of the income pie chart in 2017. Aside from eBooks, we don’t have any other products at the moment.

Advertising: This is when a company contacts us and asks us to advertise on our blog. It can come in the form of a product placement or an ongoing partnership where we write about and share the product. We only accept this type of advertising if we believe our readers will benefit from it and we’re extremely picky, which is why you don’t see any ads on this website and it doesn’t make up for a lot of our income.

Freelance: I currently write for numerous different websites and the odd magazine or newspaper and this makes up for a considerable chunk of our income. Most of our freelance is ongoing, so we write X articles per month for each company. This ensures consistent monthly income. Freelance also includes our content creation venture, which is when our team is hired by a brand to write posts on a regular basis. For this we have writers to help us with creating and editing content.

Social Campaigns: This section is for when we’re hired by brands to take over their Instagram or do a Twitter Chat. We hardly ever get these offers as you can see by the tiny sliver in the pie chart.

Social & Blog Management: This is when we’re hired to help grow a company’s social media and beef up their blog. We write posts, take over their social accounts and help them to increase their engagement. In 2017 we have had ongoing blog and social management contracts with six different companies.

You’ll notice that from the chart above, we earn just over 53% of our income through our blog itself, and the rest is earned through our content creation and social media management efforts. We do still consider these outside methods part of our blog because it is closely tied into Goats On The Road.

We were hired for this work because the companies can see that we know how to grow an online presence. Goats On The Road works as a proof of concept, a writing portfolio and a media kit for these companies. We link a lot of the work back to our blog and vice versa and in many cases, we’re also paid by these companies to share their content through our own social media and blog channels.

Goats On The Road is a six-figure blog because of the earnings made directly through the blog and the income streams that branch off of it.

 What You Can Learn: The best way to earn a real, full-time income from blogging is to diversify as much as possible. You should try your hand at affiliate marketing, email marketing, freelancing, social and blog management, product sales and just about anything else you can think of. Follow the revenue streams that work best with your business model and earn you the most money. To earn money with affiliates, check out CJ.com, ClickBank.com, AffiliateWindow.com, Amazon Affiliate Network & Share-a-sale.

How Many Hours Do We Work?

Currently we work around 15 hours per week or less on average. This is only counting the time we’re actually sitting on the computer and writing articles, editing photos or videos and creating social content.

If we’re hired by a sailing company to go out at sea for a day, eat a seafood lunch and go scuba diving, we don’t count this as hours of work because aside from taking a few video clips and photos (which we’d do anyways), we’re really just travelling and having a fun day out.

For the first 5 months of 2017 we were travelling pretty much non-stop, moving from place to place every 3 – 5 days. During that time we were probably working 4 hours per week or less (Tim Ferris would be proud).

  But during that time, the blog didn’t really grow. If we only spend an hour or less per day on the blog, that’s just enough to keep it chugging along, but not enough time to get more clients, build our traffic, write new affiliate marketing articles or do any SEO. It’s just enough time to make sure a few articles go up per month (including ones written by our writers), share on social media and edit a video per week.

Now that we’ve (finally) paused our travels in 2017, rented a villa on Koh Samui Island in Thailand, and are getting caught up, we’re working around 20 – 25 hour per week on the computers. This has given us a chance to work on writing posts for press trips we’ve recently been on, and once we’re caught up with all of that content, we’ll have time to sign up new clients for our blog and social management package and hopefully finish our eBook and grow our affiliate income streams further.

Now that the site has a decent following and we have some employees to help us with the work, we’re able to work less and travel more, but that doesn’t mean that we can just ignore the site altogether. Luckily, we don’t want to.

We love sharing our travel experiences, our photos and videos and our entrepreneurial journey with our readers, and we would continue to do so even if it wasn’t as successful as it is today. We have an incredible passion for travel, writing, photography, videography and showing others how to travel more, and live a freedom-filled lifestyle.

 What You Can Learn: While many people are proponents of a strong work ethic being the main ingredient for success, we believe in a stronger life ethic. Sure, you grow faster if you spend 14 hours per day on the computer, but you could easily burn yourself out. Live your life while you’re growing your blog and grow it with passive income in mind. If your blog earns money while you’re sleeping, then it is a true success.

Hurdles

As with every business, we did have some hurdles to overcome along the way. We were pretty confident when we reached that $10K / month mark in 2016, but things can change quickly. Some companies that we were working with for a long time decided to go another route and from time to time, we lost clients.

Luckily, the services we offer them (traffic growth, social media growth and online marketing) spoke for themselves and every time we lost one client, we would gain another. Word of mouth and self-marketing has helped to ensure that we continuously have enough clients to keep a somewhat reliable source of income.

  We also had to fire some of our assistants, and some had to quit. This was all a bit stressful, but we structured the business in a way that none of these hurdles were detrimental to our company or the companies who have hired us.

 What You Can Learn: Hurdles will come. Blogging and entrepreneurship in general can be a feast and famine business at first. Roll with the punches, take everything one step at a time and keep trucking along, no matter what. Don’t let speed bumps in your road to success stop you.  

Our Plans For The Future

Over the years this blog has transformed from a budget travel blog, to a blog about turning travel into a lifestyle. We’ve learned dozens of different ways to make money, not just through our blog, but through interviews we’ve done with other full-time travellers in our Travel Jobs section.

We’ve interviewed teachers, scuba dive instructors, consultants, cruise ship workers, wine harvesters and much more. We’ve accrued a vast amount of knowledge about how to earn a sustainable income while travelling full-time and we want to use that information to create courses, guides and eBooks to help others how to do the same.

  Needless to say, this will be a lot of work and probably won’t be ready until 2018, but we’ve already started mapping out our ideas.

As for the future of our income, we have to say that we’re very satisfied with where we are right now. We really couldn’t be happier with how far this blog has come, but it seems that it grows by itself at this point. We really don’t need more money right now, but if the universe sends it our way, we won’t deny it. So long as it doesn’t become a mo money mo problems type of situation!

Relevant Reading: Wall Street Journal on Why $75,000 Per Year Is The Perfect Salary For Happiness

We will continue to focus on creating as much epic content as we can and helping inspire others to travel more often. We hope to grow Our Youtube Channel to over 100,000 subscribers one day (we’re a long way away so our first milestone is 10,000) and hopefully monetize it down the road as well.

 What You Can Learn: Always continue to learn and grow. We’re constantly learning from other bloggers and industry leaders and trying to expand our business and learn new skills. Online business is a never-ending pool of knowledge and the more you draw from it, the more successful you can become.

The Biggest Tips We’ve Learned

This journey has been an incredible one. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s been a difficult journey, because we’ve had so much fun along the way, but starting a blog and turning it into a six-figure business certainly isn’t easy.

It takes a lot of commitment, work and a bit of luck (universal attraction for those who believe in that), but if you really love every aspect of it, then it doesn’t feel like work. If you’re hoping to start a blog and grow it into a travel sustaining money-maker, here are a few things to keep in mind:

Don’t Quit

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Don’t quit. You need to trust that your blog will eventually grow into something big. If you don’t have full faith in yourself, then it will fail. Go at it 100%. Don’t use that voice in the back of your head that says “I could always go back to working 9-5” as a safety net. You need to run full speed and leap off of that cliff of normality, close your eyes and see where it takes you.

Spend Money To Make Money

As your blog grows, you need to start hiring people to help you and you need to start spending money on advertising. You also need to spend money on a new design. As soon as you start seeing extra income coming in from blogging, you need to invest it back into your company. I think Tim Leffel says it best in this post.

Our Blog Redesign (The Best Investment We Ever Made)

Roll With Your Brand

As your blog and brand grows and changes over time, so do you. Don’t force your brand to be something it’s not and don’t force yourself in a certain direction either. If you start your blog about being a solo female traveller, but then you meet someone, then start blogging about finding love on the road. If you started your blog as a budget backpacking guide, but you start to earn a decent income, allow yourself to indulge in the finer things in life. Don’t fight it.

Your brand is an extension of you and if you’re lying to your readers about who you are, they’ll notice. Embrace changes in your life and in your blog and allow your business to grow with you.

Only Work With Brands Who Get You

It doesn’t matter how much money you’re offered, you should only work with brands and companies that are in line with you and your readers. There’s no point in accepting a free flight if you’re all about travelling overland and it doesn’t make sense to accept a free ticket to a zoo if you’re against the captivity of animals.

Only work with companies who understand you and your brand and are happy to give you a level of creative freedom and work with you to share the best content possible.

Looking Back…

We are so thankful for everything that has happened in our lives to bring us to where we are today. Not just with the business, but with our lifestyle, our relationship and our travels. The money is great and we’re happy that we have built a sustainable business, but the most important thing to us is our happiness.

This blog has brought us so much happiness and we really have to thank all of you, our readers, for helping this dream become a reality. We’ve had some hurdles to overcome along the way, but we’ve always had the support of this amazing Goats On The Road travel community and we’re often humbled when people tell us that they’ve quit their jobs to pursue a life of travel thanks to our posts.

We’ve heard countless success stories from readers who followed their passions and ended up being right where they were meant to be.

This journey has been amazing and we look forward to another 5 years of successful blogging, travelling, sharing and learning. We hope you’ll continue following us and coming along for the ride.

Thanks for reading.

Nick

The post Our Journey to a Six-Figure Online Business appeared first on Goats On The Road.

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[roadtorima-blog]

tears for Baba will always be happy and healthy ones.

soooo, i wrote this excerpt in a blog post about two months ago: 

but let’s backtrack for a minute. 2015 and 2016 were two of my roughest years. when I say “roughest,” I do not mean that these were overall bad years for me; i am blessed enough to say that I have never experienced an overall bad year - let alone week - in my 24 years living. you might say that the positivity is due to circumstance, but I would argue that it’s equally (if not more so) due to perspective. anyway, I digress…

Where it all ended was truly where it began...

Fast forward. March 13th, 2017 around 2:30 AM. My father passed away suddenly. barely two days after my parents’ anniversary, less than ten days after Baba’s 57th birthday. during the climax of his speedy recovery post-heart surgery. some say massive heart attack, but nobody knows for sure. anyway, there is no logical explanation that I will ever accept (or care to hear). my father’s power defied logic for 57 years, so i find sense in that truth and that truth alone. 

I will never, ever, ever forget that night, and despite the trauma i still feel, i somehow never want to forget that night. 

I’ll never forget my mother screaming my name at 2:30 AM. I’ll never forget rushing down the stairs only to see my father’s body laying on their bedroom floor. I’ll never forget the numbness of my cold bare feet running next door to get my aunt and uncle, knocking helplessly at their doorstep, hearing my mom’s continued screams from our house. i’ll never forget how my uncle answered the door asking me “what’s happening Rima!?” How I said “i don’t know!” but the truth was, I knew. and he knew. we all knew. 

I’ll never forget each family member’s reaction upon bursting into my house at such late hours of the night, the stages of emotion upon entering the house and realizing what had happened. i’ll never forget trying to reconcile my eerily lit home with the darkness of the night and with the looming shock and horror that i felt in that hour. the bright flashing lights of the ambulance juxtaposed with the dark night sky. a scene i’ve seen before, but this time, it was my house. it all still feels like nightmare on neckel street. 

I’ll never forget begging God to just let me know if my father was dead, negotiating with him to put us out of our misery and just get it over with in the hour between his collapse and the EMS trying desperately to revive a corpse, to take back something that was never ours to begin with. to compete with God - undoubtedly a losing battle. 

I’ll never forget my cousins and I having to drive to ann arbor to tell my 17 year old sister that our father passed away. I’ll never forget the feeling in my chest on the way there. my soft knocks on my sister’s dorm room to try to wake her up. her face expression turning from “happy/confused to see me” to devastation. I’ll never forget having to call my older brother who currently lives in LA and disrupt his sleep with a waking nightmare. I’ll never forget the anxiety in trying to package the words as delicately as possible, in hopes that it would lessen the blow, knowing that it wouldn’t. in hopes that it wouldn’t be as traumatizing for my siblings as it was for me. in hopes that i could share with them the peace i knew i would end up feeling, but was desperately speaking into existence that night.

but the truth is, despite how traumatizing that night still is for me, I don’t want to forget. i want to remember it all. i run it all back every night because I want to feel every single thing I am supposed to feel, because that is the only way for me to deal with this in a healthy way. because myself, my family and Baba deserve for me to be happy. and hamdillah somehow, i am happy. despite it all, i’m still happy.   

Baba’s kryptonite

One of the biggest lessons Baba learned from his eldest daughter was that it’s okay to cry. Growing up, Baba would grow visibly hurt, upset, uncomfortable, frustrated and even angry whenever he saw me cry. Sometimes he would even yell at me, telling me to stop crying, of course, only resulting in exponentially more tears. It was the cutest thing, to know that my tears were once his kryptonite. But the kryptonite wasn’t going anywhere, so in order for him to remain my Superman, Baba had to re-adjust his approach. 

The irony is that, i am my father’s and mother’s daughter: an extremely thoughtful and emotional being who feels deeply and frequently. As I journeyed further into my adolescence (and hormones!), Baba experienced a perspective shift when seeing me cry. He would nurture me, love me, and give me the space I needed to feel what I was feeling. Sometimes, he would slowly open the door when I trapped myself in my room, ask me if I was okay, and then close the door gently. He realized that regardless what he did or didn’t say, I was going to let myself feel what I needed to feel, exactly how I needed to feel it, no matter how he felt about it! 

That hasn’t changed. My father deserves every tear that I shed in his name, just as he deserves every bit of laughter his memory causes. He deserves for me to treat myself kindly and to allow myself to break down whenever I feel like it. He deserves for me to heal and hurt peacefully. He deserves for me to scream if I feel like it, to laugh if I feel like it, to miss him, to celebrate him, to mourn him. He deserves for me to move on and continue to carry him with me every step of the way forward. i can only move forward. 

He deserves for me to think always about how he would want me to react, and allow his pure intentions to serve as a compass for the delicacy and love that I need to be providing to myself and my loved ones right now. I’m happy that Baba can see me cry now, and that he can understand even deeper than I do what is behind those tears. I’m happy that he knows this is part of my process, that these tears are healthy and happy tears, because nothing resulting from Baba could possibly be anything but happy and healthy. 

i made peace right there and then.

On March 13th, 2017, at 2:30 AM, when I saw Baba’s body on that floor, i accepted his death immediately. today, over a month later, i still feel that peace and acceptance. i believe that God’s grace and Baba’s omnipotent love for me enabled me to make peace with something otherwise so unfathomable to me. there is no other explanation for the calmness that I feel despite the blows I’ve felt to my heart. but once again, logic will always fall short when explaining Imad Fadlallah’s greatness. 

for my loved ones reading this, especially those who are worried about me, i want you to know that on March 13th, 2017, Baba never looked so beautiful to me. i want you to know that i get random urges to go lay in that same spot and basque in the last living space my father occupied. maybe i will feel his spirit. maybe i will be as stunning as he was that night. maybe i will emerge even stronger than I already am. i want you to know that I am okay and will continue to be okay. why?

because while lifeless, Baba is still so full of life. while absent, i still feel his presence. while i can’t physically hold his hand, he is still holding mine and guiding me with every waking moment. that man is full of unexplainable wonders i tell you, and i’m so lucky to forever be on the receiving end of them. 

the #roadtorima continues, now more than ever.

I know that despite my positive perspective, you may be thinking that 2017 is about to replace 2015-16′s title of being two of my roughest years. maybe even ‘18 and ‘19 depending on how long it takes me to fully grieve. but ironically, that’s not the part of the excerpt i added at beginning of this post that struck me the most. it was the last sentence: “you might say that positivity is due to circumstance, but I would argue that it’s equally (if not more so) due to perspective.”

oddly enough, i don’t even think i knew how true that was when i originally wrote it two months ago. but it’s true. despite the fact that i have never lost someone this close to me, let alone so suddenly, traumatically, and unexpectedly, 2017 will not be the roughest year for me. neither will ‘18, or ‘19, or any year after that. why? because a few months ago, i traversed on my #roadtorima journey, and, now more than ever, do i need to keep going. perspective is everything, and i’m so lucky to have gained it in the months prior to Baba’s transition. 

i thank God for this blessing several times a day: that I was able to find my path for me and only me. God knows me and he knows that the only way I would truly accept this path towards righteousness is if i knew i chose it for myself, that it was not a reaction to anything negative, but more so an active step in what I knew was the right direction. 

I thank him several times a day for providing me with the guidance I needed to make those right decisions. I thank him several times a day for helping me uncover the strength and gratitude that I do, indeed, have within me, for it is almost insulting to him and to my father for me to have ever believed otherwise. 

i thank him several times a day for allowing me to strengthen my relationship with my father (and God), for me to speak and write such genuine and loving words about my father in the months prior to his transition, without a clue at all that he would pass. I thank God several times a day for showing me who I am and who I’m not, so that during this time - a time that could have otherwise been cloudy, chaotic and emotionally draining - i could actually experience a heightened sense of clarity, calmness and determination. 

And most importantly, I thank God for my mother. Her strength shines through every tear she sheds, every word she utters, every sentence she writes, every breath she takes. she is the most beautiful thing i know.  

i know that my father is so incredibly proud of the woman he chose as his one and only soulmate. i know that he is smiling with serenity and satisfaction, because though she doubts her strength at times, her broken heart, much like a shattered crystal, is able to attract more light in order to illuminate the darkest of times, the most concealed corners, the highest heights. she inspires me most during her most vulnerable moments, because that is when her true strength is able to shine through. during this hardship, my mother truly exhibits the beauty and power that Baba always knew she had within her. he’s so proud of you Mama, and so are we.  

Rima Imad Fadlallah: what’s in a name? 

I know it won’t be easy. I know that I’m going to have good and bad days. I don’t have the answers, nor do I want all of them right now. I want to figure this out just like I figure everything else out. I want to let it all happen naturally. I want baba to continue making me better. I want to continue growing closer to my family. i want to move back home. some reactionary events are okay; i embrace that. i want to continue looking at life through a whole different perspective. 

during the time when i was distant with my family, Baba asked me to let him know when he’ll have his daughter back. those last couple months with him, he knew i was back for good. i knew he knew, and he knew i knew. i just didn’t say it, because some things are more powerful when left unsaid. i’m so grateful that he knows that I will continue honoring my role as his eldest daughter - Rima Imad Fadlallah - and all of the greatness that my name entails.  

[andersonguy-blog1]

Divine intervention

If you have seen the way in which your inner chaos operates then you are fortunate indeed. Chaos may seem over dramatic but the relationship between body (emotions) and mind (ego) can be like a whirlwind going on around in you. If you have sat and watched the turmoil within, if you have stayed with it and continued till you reached paradise then you are more than fortunate you are blessed with divine intervention, you have held the universe in your hands. Maybe this seems over the top but I would say it’s an understatement, my words are nothing compared. If this has happened to you then you will know the soul definition of independence and you will know that you are solely and wholly responsible for your peace and how beautiful it is to be in sole possession of such a godlike quality. You can be godly and truly content and at ease throughout your life but why would I say this when I still get anxious and fearful and sad? Because the key word is ‘can’. I am not saying as soon as one sees the facade pretending to be them that they’ll become permanently enlightened I am saying that at least for the moment you are enlightened you’ll be the calm amongst the storm, you’ll be the light amongst the dark and the journey of finding yourself will instantly be dropped. You will live effortlessly, you’ll feel alive and you’ll enjoy knowing that life is simply expressing itself through you, you’ll also know how to be enlightened and you will become dedicated to your inner, your inner state will be more important to you than anything or anyone outside of you. Our consciousness is our most important focus because without consciousness we are unable to love. With enlightenment comes freedom from inflicting hurt onto yourself and others too - complete freedom from hurting but not to be mistaken with permanent freedom. I mean in the moment of pure consciousness it is simply impossible to hurt anything, everything is rose tinted, every-thing is pure. Someone is shouting at you, someone is saying stuff about you, someone is wanting you to suffer and you simply look at them like they are the most innocent human being you have seen before you and you realise how special, kind, compassionate and everything else beautiful you feel. You don’t think any of these words and you don’t try and figure out why you aren’t reacting, you can’t do either you are in pure consciousness but you feel the sweet serenity these words arise, you are bathing in your own clarity your soul is alight. There is only one way discomfort and disappointment and confusion and sadness and anger and frustration can disperse and you no longer need to look for the remedy. The act of looking for the cure is stressful in itself and it will only magnify these emotions at times. You are the cure and you simply need to watch your inner chaos to realise it for yourself. I have been confused recently as to why I am always watching my mind but I’m still becoming identified fairly easy, I’ve been going from great moments of peace to sadness. And then I remembered; the significance of watching the body is paramount to stopping thought because emotions and ego are a viscous cycle. They feed each other and until both thoughts and emotions/feelings are watched then the hold will remain. Witnessing them is facing them, it is staring at the route of all fear directly in the face that is why finding oneself is the most courageous act a human could ever embark on. The greatest fear people have is the fear of knowing their self, to expose the false self creates great fear. It is much easier to turn away from fear and buy things, or to go out and try to forget about it, or to cheat on ones partner or to take drugs or alcohol. There are many more tricks and strategies but fear always catches up eventually and when it does it will usually override someone’s state of mind and subsequent actions. Some people can become so entrenched they become physically violent or they self harm or they become politicians and create nuclear weapons. There is no need to judge anyone though for their craziness, they are only listening to the sickness of the mind but they are not their mind and they can become free of its destructiveness. The mind can be healed by giving it ones full attention, not to be confused with listening but just silently watching so that you become separate from it. Bravery is not in the doing it is in the being, bravery isn’t men with guns it’s unconditional love, anyone can shoot anyone but can a man love his wife even if she chooses not to be with him. That is bravery, choosing to always be love by facing what in us isn’t. ‘Death is a stripping away of all that is not you. The secret of life is to die before you die — and find that there is no death.’ (Eckhart 🙏🏻)

Universal synchronicity is in your favour it wants you to awaken and until you do you will experience polarity - pleasure and pain. Maybe you are reading my blogs because you can sense your truth in some of my words and you want to see more truth or maybe you want too see me say some more crazy stuff, you are enjoying the show. Both are the same really though they are both exploration of ones truth it’s just that one is looking on me favourably and the other maybe not so. I love how Osho uses the word dehypnosis, he says that most religions teach beliefs but he teaches watching. He says to go and watch and you’ll see it for yourself, there is no need for him and his talks but yet people love listening to him including me. He has a dehypnotising effect because he is one of very few who knows his self and stays in his self too, some people call him their master I simply see him as more in tune with his true nature. Type in dehypnosis in google and Osho will come up first, how crazy is that it isn’t even a real word he just made it up. Yet it’s the one word that could potentially save humanity from wiping each other out. I thought the other day how crazy wars are, planes drop bombs on innocent people that have nothing to do with war and the murderers that do it still remain in senior positions and not only do they remain but they are respected for it. How crazy that an argument of false power and insecurity about who’s land it is involves the many lives of people minding their own business. No ones land is anyone’s land anyway, there are no countries or borders or lines no piece of the universe belongs to anyone or any group the world is unnamed. Poverty is an illusion too, we are meant to believe that more money is needed through charity and alike but really it’s that too many people don’t care. It is not the money it is the people, we can create spaceships but we can’t solve poverty. This kind of statement typically arises the thought 'why don’t you do something about it then Guy’ but nothing can be done about it, the madness will always be there. Sure you can make some changes but those changes will change because the route problem hasn’t been solved - deep dissatisfaction and discontentment in nearly all humankind.

I looked over to my friend earlier and I asked him 'when was the last time you saw me upset’ and he casually said 'about 2 years ago’. My eyes lit up I couldn’t be sure he knew this too but he is right I haven’t been upset around him for some time. Yet when I first got unwell I used to cry around him cause I was so frustrated and sad about my dizziness but suddenly over a few days my negativity stopped and this is why I write. It didn’t stop permanently but i went from extreme discomfort and stress to harmony and peace in a very short space of time. I saw no way out of my health beforehand, i saw no route to happiness yet nothing on the physical level has changed really, it’s only recently has someone said he thinks he can cure it. But what changed was my consciousness and when your consciousness changes you realise it’s the only thing that ever needs to change. I have something to say that nearly all religions don’t teach. Religion didn’t save me, no spiritual teacher did but Eckhart Tolle showed me how to save myself, his book will be transformational for the ones who are ready to drop their self. The self that is responsible for all misery. I did something sweet for someone before Christmas, something I have never done for anyone. It wasn’t so much what I did it was why I did it. I said to my friend at the time I’m going to do this because I’m going to continue to truly love this person as a friend whatever, even when I can’t I will try. It was an act of devotion, not necessarily devotion to her but to myself. I have never spent so much on something that I knew could be rejected which is what makes it the most precious gift I have ever given. It was precious because I had no desire of reciprocation at the time in fact I thought it was very unlikely, it was precious because I was saying I believe in you still and that I can believe in you no matter what when I am in love. It’s normal to give and expect the same back, it’s normal to treat love like a business, to carefully consider and calculate instead of intuitively act on feeling. Many people will say 'give to the ones who are deserving’ but I say give to anyone you wish to give too there are no rules and if you give to anyone you wish you are also saying that anyone is deserving and they are. If everyone is deserving of your love then you are deserving of everyones love too. No one is deserving because they reciprocate or say thank you or they are respected or likeable they are deserving because they are alive. They are deserving because they are a human being.