#which yes travelling is a luxury but normal people should be able to/allowed to travel

[izzymalec]

i think our main action for emissions reduction in air travel should be publicly beheading whichever rich person had the most emissions with their private jet at the end of each year

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

When you touch me, I am where love is born

Young!Mihawk x reader.

This fic is part of the Beast in Black series.

*****

The man is attractive, if you like the burly type, with rough features and a full beard - which you occasionally do, even though you are slightly put off by the fact that your would-be victim, a former pirate who is now working solo as a robber, has killed twelve people, all of them but one defenseless civilians and including four children, to steal their valuables. Your grandfather, who put your first gun in your hand when you were only nine and taught you to use it, and a number of other firearms, to perfection, told you emotions are often a shooter's worst enemy, a cause of confusion and inaccuracy and worst of all hesitation, especially when the target you are shooting at has a weapon of their own; still, in your heart you feel satisfaction, even joy, and not guilt, at the thought that you will rid the world of this lowlife and protect his future potential victims.

Your target has no permanent residence and is notoriously proficient at putting pursuers off his tracks, but you were able to track down an accomplice of his who, for a small price, told you he would be in a certain island, on a particular day.

He is, and you are as well, having reached the island yesterday by ferry under the guise of a normal, innocuous tourist eager to enjoy the island's luxurious beaches and night-life. The truth couldn't be more different, and as you check for the twelfth time your gun is loaded and ready to shoot, you order yourself to keep your cool and stop your heart from beating twice as fast as normal. Yes, this is your first assignment as a mercenary; yes, you are still very young, and a woman, which would lead many of your fellow killers for hire to look down on you and doubt your ability; yes, you have never killed anyone before, which could make you hesitate once you will have to actually pull the trigger, not at a clay pigeon or another target prepared by your grandfather for your training, but at a living, real person.

But you can do it. You want to do it, because you have trained so much and so long for this, and that man does deserve to pay for what he has done, and you want to prove, to the world and more importantly to yourself, what you are worth, how strong and clever and resilient you are, beyond the family you were born in and the role you will take on one day. Your grandfather, an excellent gunslinger who had been a mercenary himself in his youth, expects you to put to good use everything he taught you and succeed, and your mother, while naturally worried for your safety, raised no objections and allowed you to begin a career as a killer for hire, knowing you felt the need to put yourself to the test beyond the comfortable, tranquil borders of your island. They both count on you, and you'd rather eat glass than disappoint them… and yourself, the harshest, least forgiving judge of all.

Also, if I don't kill that guy, he will probably kill me. That's also something I should keep in mind.

Having kept watch on the old barn, in the middle of the countryside, your target had spent the night in, you have seen him leave soon after dawn, the long sword he used to kill most of his victims as usual by his side, and set out towards an uninhabited corner of the island. You followed closely, careful not to lose him and, at the same time, not to be spotted, and three miles later you saw him reach an old abandoned mine; there is no sign of life for miles all around, which makes you suspect that, more than preparing an heist in a bank or a shop, or to attack an unsuspecting traveller to rob and then kill them, the man is meeting with an accomplice to organize an hit, or perhaps he has chosen the mine as his new hideout, to lay low for a while.

But all things being equal, the reason that has brought him here doesn't really matter; he might be looking for a safe place to store his stamp collection, or planning to transform the place in an ice cream shop for all you care. The only thing that counts is that you will kill him today, provide justice for all the people he has murdered, and begin making a name for yourself as a mercenary. You don't care about the bounty money, that you plan to donate to the less affluent families of your island (after, perhaps, you have treated yourself to a good dinner) and even becoming famous as a killer for hire is a side issue; you only want to do what is right, and prove yourself you are more than a privileged young woman, born with a silver spoon in her mouth and destined to a life of tranquility and power.

Even if it means risking your life.

Your target has reached the entrance of the mine, securely boarded up and surmounted by a large KEEP OUT sign; he walks back and forth, clearly nervous as he smokes a cigarette, fingering the hilt of his sword. Hidden in a small ramshackle building, perhaps the old foreman's office, no more than ten paces away, you look at him through a crack in the door, kneeling on the dirty floor; your heart is pounding, a feeling of tightness constricting your stomach, the hand grasping your gun (a good, reliable and lethal model; not the derringer you will one day receive as a gift from your father and that you will treasure for the rest of your days, but still perfectly up to the task) sweating. Despite all the time and effort you dedicated to prepare for this moment, you are a nervous wreck, which is not completely a bad thing, since the last thing you should do is underestimate the danger you are in. Your target is still alone, busy smoking and apparently unaware of your presence, but any moment you waste could be the one he decides to leave, or he is joined by someone else; after all he does look as if he is waiting for someone. You can't hesitate any longer.

You stand slowly, grimacing at the pain in your knees, retrieve a second gun from the bag you have left on the floor, to use should the first one jam, and slide it in the holster hanging from your waist; you have chosen comfortable clothing, for obvious reason, and soft-soled boots, that allow you to walk as noiselessly as possible… and, in turn, to make it harder for your target to hear you approach.

The man has turned his back to the shack, busy lighting another cigarette after the one he has just put out under his foot; it's your moment, you decide, and you waste no time in slipping out of the splintered door and take one step, and then another, towards him.

Years and even decades later, as the list of your victims grows longer and you get used to the tension and the danger your job entails, you will still remember this moment as clear and vivid as if it had taken place yesterday, down to the smallest detail. The glowing yellow-red of the sun barely raised above the horizon; the natural vegetation rustling in the gentle wind; the russet colour of the unsown earth under your feet; the expectant, charged silence broken only by the distant call of a carrion crow. You are only partially aware of your actions, your instinct and training taking over, as you take a third step, which brings you at maybe six from your target - more than close enough for a clean shot. Your gun is aimed, your finger already brushing against the trigger. You are about to talk, but the man, still turned the other way, anticipates you.

"I was waiting for you." he says, tense but calm, and the shock is almost enough to make the gun slip from your hand; you have been very careful to remain hidden, making sure he had no idea you were keeping a close eye on him, and you were absolutely sure you had succeeded, and would easily sneak up on your target. Apparently the truth is different… or at least so it seems for a moment, before the man finally turns, sees you, and goggles.

"What the… who the hell are you?!"

"I…"

"Where is Mihawk?" he insists, which is a question you have no answer for, but that at the same time is enough to dispel your doubts: he had no idea you were coming, and was actually waiting for someone else - perhaps an ally or an accomplice.

It takes your target half a second to notice the gun you are aiming at him. "What the…?!" he exclaims, letting his second cigarette fall to the floor and grabbing his sword.

It is already a full second to late.

"Jack 'The Tiger' Vespertine." you begin, mimicking the formal tone you heard your mother use so many times; you will decide to do away with the declaration of intents by your third assignment, like virtually all World Government-sanctioned mercenaries and killers for hire do, especially when the target is already aware of the danger they are in and armed, but since this is your first time you deem appropriate to follow the rules to the letter "You have been found guilty of twelve counts of murder…"

Vespertine's sword is drawn with a movement too fast for your eyes to follow, but thank all the Gods you are fast as well, and ready; a battle-cry fills the air, and half a second later, when the man has barely had the time to raise his blade above his head, your finger pulls the trigger, and the bullet explodes out of the gun's barrel, opening a hole in the middle of his forehead.

Vespertine is not an heavy man, but the thud of his body hitting the ground is deafening, the ground shaking under your feet. He doesn't move, and for a full minute you don't either; you stare at the body in front of you, your gun still pointed at him even though you know he is most likely already dead, as you push his sword away with your boot. You can't see his face, since he has fallen on his belly, so, for safety's sake, you shoot him again, in the back; the man doesn't move, which is proof enough for you.

Somewhere in the distance, the carrion crow cries again, a sound vaguely similar to an acid laugh; you glance all around you, making sure you are still alone and no one witnessed your actions, and then cautiously crouch down, using your free hand to turn the body on his back and look at it -at him- in the face.

This moment is the reason why you decided to do it like this. Up close, looking at him in the face and making sure he saw you and, within reason, knew you were going to kill him, instead of finding a safer way, hidden among the shrubs or from a moving vehicle or even at the third floor of a building, so that your target would have no way to know what was going to happen, and to defend himself. You had to let him know; not because you owed him (he was a killer, scum like that was entitled to nothing) but because you needed it.

"There is nothing wrong with aiming from a distance, and shooting at someone who doesn't expect it, at least if you're a mercenary and chasing a certain sort of people; in a fair duel, or when the person you are shooting at deserves to know what is going to happen to them, different rules apply." your grandfather told you one day, as you walked together in the fortress' gardens, at the end of yet another training session; he was an honourable man, your grandfather, but he was also smart and pragmatic, and he knew honour was something a person could not always afford to care for, and that when you didn't leave someone else to pay for your actions there was nothing wrong with running away to fight another day "We are not swordfighters; we don't duel for supremacy, for a grandiose title or so that everyone in the world knows our name. The gun is a weapon; if you want to kill someone, use it and it will do its work. It's not your friend, or a talisman that endows you with some arcane power; it is a tool that you need to learn to use, otherwise you will be the one getting hurt. It is a bloody business, a raw and practical one, devoid of heroics and ethics, but it can protect you and help you make your way in the world. It all depends on you. Just..."

"Just?"

Your grandfather had stopped, contemplating the rose bushes your mother tended to personally, and that ran all around a tiny plot of grass, where your family had enjoyed so many outdoor breakfasts.

"What I'm trying to say is that using firearms, especially for a deadly purpose like you mean to, is something you mustn't take lightly." he continued as he looked at you; he loved you dearly, but in that moment there was sternness in him, as if he were warning you against a terrible danger, or a grave crime you were about to commit. You liked it; he was the first person to treat you like an adult, years before you could even vaguely call yourself that "It... goes to your head; the power to kill with a simple press of your finger can make even the most rational and moderate person feel all-powerful. And the risk of forgetting it is people you are shooting at and killing, not clay pigeons or game to serve at dinner, is high."

You looked at him; he was probably the person you loved the most in the world behind your mother, and he was wiser than even her. You trusted him completely, and you knew he only wanted what was best for you; had he said bathing every day in olive oil would make you immortal, you would have believed him.

"And you think this could happen to me?" you asked, afraid of hearing his answer; evening was approaching, flames of red and purple painting the darkening sky above your heads "I... I don't want it to, grandfather; I only want to kill bad people, like you did. I don't want to become bad myself."

Suddenly he smiled, as he took your hand in his like he did when you were still so young you needed to be guided as you walked. "I have faith in you, (name); I know there is no kinder girl in all the four seas, and I am sure you will one day rule over our island with justice and mercy." he told you "But if you really want to become a gunslinger... you have to promise me something: when you kill a man, you have to look at him in the eyes; not necessarily before, as I told you, but at least after. Take responsibility for what you have done, and face the consequence of your actions. Especially the first time."

A sudden gust of wind passed over you; the evening was warm, but you suddenly felt chilled.

"Promise me, (name)."

"I promise, grandfather. I will do as you said."

And you do, contemplating the body of the man in front of you, now truly alone in that isolated corner of the world. You feel no guilt; rather, you are proud of yourself, and you know your grandfather will be as well, when you'll call home to reassure him and your mother you are all right. You have proved yourself, punished a vicious murderer, and given justice to his victims. All in all, a good day... even though you do feel a bit upset, even if you couldn't exactly say why.

You can't tear your eyes away from Vespertine -or rather, from his mortal remains- even longer than what your grandfather would deem necessary. The bullet you have killed him with went right through his cranium, but the hole it created is no bigger than a bean at the centre of his forehead, and his face is still perfectly recognizable... which is good, since you wouldn't be able to collect the bounty if you can't prove you killed the right man. You saw another body once, an inexperienced guard on your island, who had shot himself in the face with his service pistol as he cleaned it, and the bullet had completely erased his features, so much that even his parents couldn't formally recognize him...

Vespertine's old bounty poster, from the time he was still part of his old pirate crew, is folded in the inside pocket of your jacket; you take it out, open it, observe it carefully comparing the man in the picture with the one lying on the ground in front of you, and finally sigh, relieved. You had already checked it for the third time twenty minutes ago, as you waited for the right moment in the foreman's office, to make sure you had actually found the right man and were not about to kill an innocent who simply resembled him, but this is obviously the first time you can examine him up close and yes, this is undoubtedly Vespertine himself. You killed him... but your work is not over yet.

Still, you can't stop looking at him. His eyes, of the same colour of your mother's, are still open, a single drop of blood that slid down from the wound leaving a tiny blood trail along the side of his nose. He had had time to realize you were attempting to kill him, but his expression betrays neither fear, nor rage, nor the pain he must have felt as he died; rather, he seems... surprised, as if he really hadn't expected to see you, to be attacked, and that that quiet, still morning would be the last of his life.

I'm doing it, grandfather, you think; you will make sure to tell him in person once you're back home, to let him know you haven't forgotten what he had taught you, but for now, mentally addressing him is the best you can do. Just like you told me to. And now I know what you meant; I feel exactly as you thought I would. I killed him; and all it took was pulling a trigger. He wasn't a good man, and he deserved this and even more. But still... But still...

It is sudden and violent, like a punch (or a bullet) to the stomach; the bounty poster falls from your fingers, and you fall to your knees, your legs unable to support you. Your head swims; your heart beats fast enough to hurt; cold sweat covers your back, your arms, your whole body...

A disgusting sound (bleeeaarrggghh) escapes your lips, followed by everything you had eaten in the last twelve hours.

*****

You start feeling a little better fifteen minutes later, and thank all the Gods you have water and paper towels in your bag, which allows you to clean yourself at least a little bit.

After a brief rest, you get to work, retrieving other tools from your bag: a knife, a sturdy sack, the sort you use to store grain or flour, and a tinderbox. You bit your lip, ordering yourself not to feel sick again, as you cut Vespertine's head, sawing through skin and tendons and bone and separating it from his body; consequently, you put it in the sack. Collecting wood takes you only a few minutes, since the countryside abounds with fallen branches and twigs; lighting a fire is equally easy, since you have been taught to use flint and steel since you were a little girl. Dragging your victim's body over the (still unlit) pyre is the hardest part, since he must be twice as heavy as you, but in the end you succeed, and soon Vespertine's remains are burning and then reduced to ashes, leaving no trace of his passing that an eventual friend or ally could trace back to you. Unsure of what to do with it, you finally bury the man's sword near the entrance of the mine, digging with your bare hands since you don't have a shovel at hand and making sure it cannot be found.

You then place the sack containing your victim's head in your bag; the idea of carrying that thing around is more than a little disgusting, but doing the same with the entire body would be much more tiring, and your grandfather said it will be more than enough to claim the bounty, since a severed head is clear proof of a person's death.

Soon after, you set off. You haven't lowered your guard yet, in case Vespertine hadn't come alone or had friends and allies nearby, not to mention that watching your back will now have to become the norm, but you feel relieved you have completed your task, and you can't wait to reward yourself with a good meal, cash the bounty and return home to tell your mother and grandfather about your first success as a mercenary.

You have started whistling a popular song of your island, the warmth of the blooming day kissing your skin, when suddenly you are not alone on the road anymore; a tall man is walking purposefully towards you, and towards the mine... a man with a large sword hanging from his belt.

Shit. Vespertine did say he was expecting someone, and while you cannot be sure this guy is (was) a friend of your victim and would want to avenge his death, the best, safest thing you can do is to get away as quickly as you can, before he realizes what has happened and that you must be responsible for it. Is it cowardly? Perhaps - no, it surely is, and your grandfather did tell you the honourable man is very often the dead man as well, and you are a mercenary, not a warrior, you are not bound by a code of conduct and it would be very stupid to risk your life when you have nothing to gain from it, but...

But...

"Excuse me." you call to the man who has by now walked five or six steps behind you, turning to look at him and thinking back to your brief conversation with Vespertine "Is your name... Mihawk?"

The man turns, clearly surprised to hear a stranger mention his name. He is very tall, slim but strong, dark-haired, practically but elegantly dressed.

"Do I know you?" he asks after a moment he has spent observing you.

"No, but perhaps we have a mutual acquaintance. Did you know Jack "The Tiger" Vespertine? Were you meant to meet him today?"

You grimace, realizing you have used the past tense when this man -Mihawk- still has no idea Vespertine is dead. This is probably the stupidest, most dangerous thing you have ever done, a leap in the dark, because your gun is still charged and nothing would stop you from at least trying to kill your second swordsman of the day, but you could simply keep walking, and he would have no way to know what has happened, since there is no trace of Vespertine's remains and by the time Mihawk may suspect he had been killed, you would be long gone.

Still. Something in your heart tells you you are doing the right thing, because you are not a coward, and because this man will not prove to be a danger for you. You don't know why, but you are sure.

"Is he a friend of yours?"

Mihawk brings his arms to his chest; he is still staring, and there is something in his gaze that makes you squirm - in his gaze, or perhaps in his eyes, which are of a very unusual colour...

"Why should I tell you?" he asks in the end.

"No reason, actually." you admit "It's just... well, I hope you were not close friends, or related, because he is dead."

Silence. You tense, ready for whatever his reaction will be, but the man lets his arms fall to his sides, without touching his sword - a good blade, he will tell you in time, but still largely inferior to Yoru, that will not come into his possession for a few years still.

"You killed him?"

"I did. Less than an hour ago, at the mine he was waiting for you at."

"Are you a pirate?"

No, just the daughter of one, you are for a moment about to answer, before quickly stopping yourself. You have been sworn to silence regarding the identity of your father, for the safety of your family and your own, and you have never been tempted to break that promise until now. What is happening to you?, you wonder, feeling strangely numbed all of a sudden, why do you instinctively feel able, or even eager, to share your secrets with a man you had never met before...?

(You will understand it; in time. And you will be happy of it.)

"No; I'm a mercenary working for the World Government." you answer in the end, trying to pull yourself together; it is technically not the truth, at least until you cash your first bounty, but the Marines do have a number of killers for hire on call, and who knows, perhaps one day you will be part of that selected circle... "Vespertine left a long list of victims behind him, there is a bounty on his head."

"I see."

You wait for him to elaborate, to express rage or regret or joy at the news of Vespertine's death, but Mihawk is clearly not the loquacious sort, because he keeps his emotions for himself, and "Thanks for telling me." he simply says.

"No problem. Why was he waiting for you?" you ask again, cocking your head; you have no idea of how dangerous he is, even now that he is little more than a boy, but even if you knew, you wouldn't be deterred. You are curious... and fascinated, somehow, by this stern and hermetic young man.

Mihawk looks at you, clearly disapproving of your curiosity, but in the end he sighs, and finally gives you the explanation you wanted. "We were meant to duel, Vespertine and I. He had challenged me a month ago, and we were meant to meet this morning at the mine. I... am running late, unfortunately, because the ship I took to reach this island clashed against a larger one and for a while it seemed it would go under."

"Oh, that's... scary."

He shrugs, clearly unconcerned. "I would have managed, I am a capable swimmer. I was just afraid Vespertine thought I had decided not to meet him because I was afraid."

"He... was a capable swordsman?" you ask again, still eager to learn more; the only bladed weapon you have ever handled is the knife you use at the table and, now, the larger one you took with you from home to separate your victim's head from his body, but you have always been fascinated by the world of the swordfighters, bound by a strict code of behaviour, who often have to prove themselves before a more experienced fighter accepts to train them and among whom most serious duels end with the death of one of the two opponents. For them, the weapon is not a tool, of defense and offense; it is... an art. A cult, almost.

"Above average, from what I saw, which is not saying much. But he had challenged me, and refusing would have been a stain upon my honour."

Just like you expected. "I see. Well." you add, suddenly embarrassed "I'm sorry I took your opponent away from you."

Mihawk shrugs, marginally more inclined to chat. "If he let you kill him, it means he wasn't a worthy opponent." he reasons; he has no facial hair, but his sideburns are long and neatly trimmed, and while already tall he's still a few inches away from his full stature "I should thank you for saving me a futile effort."

You cock your head, an eyebrow raised. "Are you saying I am less capable a markswoman than you are a swordsman?" you inquire; you don't care if Mihawk will propose to see for yourselves and challenge you, forgotten is the guilt you felt for ruining his morning. Who the hell this smart-ass thinks he is, especially considering you must be the same age? You don't care how actually powerful he is, you wouldn't even care if he were the world's strongest swordsman, no one can insult you and get away with it "Is it because I am a woman? Or because I use a gun and not a sword?"

"No, I..."

"I'll have you know I've been trained by one of the most capable former mercenaries of the four seas, and that Vespertine didn't even have the time to attack me before I put a bullet through his head."

"I'm sure you are more than capable." Mihawk says, clearly aiming to pacify you but, fortunately, without sounding patronizing "Forgive me; I meant no disrespect."

He seems sincere - he is, he will confess to you years later, and deeply embarrassed for the gaffe he just made; it is rare for him to admit he had erred... but, he will confide you with the shadow of a smile, he is happy those words didn't make you hate him, then and in the years to come. Because of this you decide to forgive him, and

"If you want we can split the bounty." you propose, feeling generous; you intended to donate the money to someone who needed it on your island, but you can take another assignment soon "Or, you know, there is Verspertine's sword, I can tell you where I buried it..."

Mihawk shakes his head. "I can only take another swordsman's blade if I am the one who bested them; in any case, I doubt a man like Vespertine owned a blade I could be interested in." he points out "And I don't need compensation; you killed him, you deserve to keep the money. Well, I... I suppose I should go back."

"Right..."

Silently, you both set off once more, walking side by side along the only path towards the nearest village. You are still on edge, both happy for your first success and shaken by the fact that you have, after all, just killed a man, but soon you find yourself focusing on something else... namely, on the young man walking next to you. He is undoubtedly handsome, but it's something else that piques your curiosity... a depth, and complexity, unusual for one so young, and that you can perceive behind his apparently impassible façade.

"So." you begin conversationally after a while; you have almost a mile to walk to the village, and maybe chatting will make you reach your destination faster "Are you any good with that sword?"

Mihawk grunts, the tiniest hint of amusement in his voice. "I like to think I am more than good."

"Really? Are you famous?"

"I am... becoming famous. This is why Vespertine wanted to duel me."

"And you think you would have beaten him?"

"I know I would have."

He speaks matter-of-factly, as if describing an undeniable truth and without the slightest hint of arrogance or overconfidence; you usually appreciate humility, and you have no way to know whether he is as good as he thinks he is, but you like the self-assurance he carries himself with.

"So this is what you do? Go around, duel other swordsmen so that you make a name for yourself as a powerful fighter?"

"I do." Mihawk easily acknowledges "When I'm not too busy fighting the Marines and looking for a loot or another."

"You're a pirate."

"I am. A wanted one, in case you were thinking of claiming my bounty as well."

You smile, aware you are both involved in a game whose rules are still undecided. "Is that a challenge?" you inquire, and Mihawk shrugs, looking straight in front of him.

"If you want to consider it as such."

"I see. Luckily for you, I intend to cash Vespertine's bounty before looking for another assignment, so I will not challenge you today."

"Luckily for me..."

Silence falls between you, an unexpectedly companionable one considering you have known each other only for a few minutes. As you glance sideways at Mihawk, you can't help noticing his eyes, yellow like the ones of a hawk; you have never seen anything of the sort, but there is beauty in his gaze.

"What about you?" Mihawk asks "What has brought you to become a mercenary?"

"Are you surprised?"

"Women are a minority in the trade, those as young as you even more so. You are wearing clothes of good quality, which means you are probably not doing it for the money. Am I right?"

"You are."

Mihawk grins. "As I thought. So what? Are you following in a relative's footsteps? Or were you simply bored?"

"Both things, in a sense." you admit, walking leisurely along the mud-smeared path; the fact that a virtual stranger is able to read you so easily should upset you, but it doesn't, maybe because you can perceive Mihawk poses no danger to you, or maybe not "I... simply needed to test myself. Growing up, I never had to worry about money, or fear for my safety; I'm not saying I was spoiled, or that I spend my days idling without duties and responsibilities, but I feared letting things go like they were meant to, I would become indolent, content with what I had but unable to aim higher. I never needed to prove I was strong, and clever, and capable of taking care of myself; but I wanted to make sure I was anyway."

You are not sure your reasoning makes sense, especially to someone who barely knows you, but Mihawk nods in understanding - in approval, even. "That was brave of you. And clever."

"I just wanted to do what I thought was right."

Twenty minutes of sporadic but pleasant conversation later, you have reached the village, actually little more than a handful of houses and little shops and a tiny harbour, connected by a regular ferry service to a larger island from where you can easily catch another boat to return home. Perhaps, you reflect, you should think about buying a small ship of your own; experienced sailors are not lacking on your island, and you could ask someone to teach you...

"You want to join me for a meal?" you propose as you walk past a tavern; you know you and Mihawk are destined to part soon anyway and will probably never meet again, but he is the most interesting person you have met in a long while, and you like talking to him "After all it's breakfast time..."

Mihawk hesitates for a moment, taken aback by your offer. "I'd... like that." he answers, and you could swear that surprises him as well "But I need to depart soon."

"I see. Well..."

You are both standing in the village's tiny, almost empty square. This is good-bye, then, you're about to say, but impulsively you step closer to the man in front of you, who tenses. "What...?"

"Your eyes." you murmur without realizing. You were right, they are yellow, their gaze piercing and deep, intense albeit not necessarily cruel "They are... beautiful."

"... you think?"

"Of course; I had never seen anyone with eyes like yours! They make you look like a bird of prey. Like an hawk."

Something in your words makes the man in front of you smile; he is flattered, and still not as good at hiding his emotions as he will be in twenty years. "I've been told that before."

"Is it hereditary? Do you have a particularly sharp vision or...?"

"I... don't think so; no one I have ever met has them, and I see normally."

"Amazing..."

Silence again; you face each other, both still so young, full of dreams and ambition, unaware of what the future has in store for you - individually and not. Neither has any idea you will meet again, and how your relationship will change and grow, but in that moment, both of you are sure, a sort of quiet, clear certitude: you will remember that brief encounter forever.

In the end Mihawk takes a step back, both literally and metaphorically. "I should go." he softly points out nodding in the direction of the village's harbour "So... good-bye."

"Good-bye, Mihawk." you answer, intimately saddened for reasons you can't fully explain even to yourself; it is not like you to get attached to people you barely know, but there is something interesting in this young swordsman, something special, and you wouldn't mind having the time to discover exactly what...

A nod, the hint of a smile, and he's walking away. You look at his retreating figure for a minute, his dark hair gently swaying in the breeze, his hand elegantly resting on the hilt of his sword.

"Maybe one day we'll meet again." you call out to him, making Mihawk turn "Maybe I'll be asked to bring you in to the Marines."

He smiles; once again, amused, but not patronizing. "I look forward to it." he answers, raising an hand in farewell "What is your name?"

"It's (name). Lady (name)."

"I'll be seeing you then, lady (name)."

A minute later he has disappeared, hidden by the buildings across the square. You smile to yourself; something tells you Mihawk is destined to make a name for himself, as a pirate and even more as a swordsman, and you can only hope that, by your next meeting, you will have done the same.

Still, that could take years, and in the meantime you have a couple of more pressing matters to attend to: breakfast, since your stomach has started growling, and calling both your family, to let her know you're all right, and the Marines.

You decide to take care of that first, to get it over with. You glance once more at the tavern, hoping the coffee they offer is better than the one you drank on the ferry, retrieve your transponder snail from a side pocket of your bag, and dial the number you had learnt by heart before setting off from home. You could technically cash Vespertine's bounty in any Marine base of the world, but you decided to do it at their HQ, especially since it's your first time; you hope it will be easier to get noticed, and make a name for yourself as a capable mercenary.

"Good morning. Who do I have to talk to in order to claim a bounty? Vice-Admiral Garp? Yes, put me through to him, please..."

[lyranova]

Children of the Future:

Chapter 6: A New Addition

Hi guys! Sorry this chapter took a bit, but its done! The next one shouldn’t take that long though! Anyway I apologize this chapter isn’t very good, I’m a little tired 😅. I hope you all enjoy~!

Taglist: @eme-eleff @crazyclownthanos @talpup @jovialnoise (if anyone wants to be added please let me know!)

Word Count: 2,398

Warnings: None

———

Zora sighed as he slowly packed his stuff up, he couldn’t believe this was happening to him. That he had, not one child, but two with a complete stranger! It was mind boggling, he didn’t know that woman from Adam and yet he had kids with her in the future! He sat on his bed and shook his head, how did he get into this mess? Why did it have to be him?! He never even imagined himself with kids, sure maybe one day he would have them, but not now! Especially not two teenagers!

He shook his head as he heard Vanessa call him, he knew he was taking too long and if he was anymore late the Captain would probably drag him out of the house himself. Zora sighed as he grabbed his bag and walked out of the room and down the hall into the common room, where all the Black Bull members currently sat.

“ Well of all the members to have kids, you were the one I was least expecting!” Magna said in surprise, Zora made a hmph noise in response.

“ Yeah, you and me both. Especially with a complete stranger, and a prissy stranger no less.” Zora grumbled before letting out a sigh. “ I’d better get going before the Captain comes after me.” He added before walking out of the hideout.

“ Good luck! You’re going to need it!” Magna shouted after him, Zora gave a short wave before shutting the door behind him, hopping onto his broom, and flying towards his temporary home.

——

“ Shut up Solid!” Nebra shouted at her younger brother, who was currently laughing his tail off at her. Nozel had told him why he and Nebra had been summoned to the Wizard King and he thought it was a joke at first, but once he saw the look on his older siblings' faces he couldn’t stop laughing. At all.

“ I-I’m sorry Nebra, but this, this is too funny!” Solid said between fits of laughter, he was sitting in her chair by the window and was about to fall out of it he was laughing so hard.

“ Maybe to you it is! Imagine having a child, no correction, children with a complete stranger and according to said children you’re happily married to each other!” Nebra rounded on her brother, he suppressed his laughter for a few moments before standing up.

“ I can only imagine sister. You, on the other hand, are living it!” He said with a smirk, she grabbed a shoe and threw it at him before she grabbed her bag and walked out of her room.

“ I still don’t understand why we have to move in with all of them, I’d much rather be here than with the Black Bulls and all those kids.” Nebra grumbled as she walked outside their home and towards her broom, with Solid following behind her.

“ Because it’ll be easier to keep tabs on everyone if you’re all in one place.” Nozel said as he walked up to his sister, causing her and Solid to jump, they hadn’t seen him standing in the shadows.

“ I figured that out! But why couldn’t the Wizard King put a magical tracing spell on us or something?!” Nebra exclaimed in exasperation, she did not want to leave and stay with complete strangers in some dump out in the middle of the woods when she had a comfortable home right here!

“ Because those kinds of spells can be altered or other mages can track them. For now, all of you must be kept in hiding. Just until we can figure this out.” Nozel said with a sigh before handing his sister a broom. “ You’ll have to use this to get there. The Wizard Kings orders.”

Nebra looked from the broom to her older brother and back again, he wasn’t serious. Was he? There was no way she was using that!

“ You’ll have to use this to get around, if I were to fly you there using my mercury magic everyone would know something was amiss. So, for now, this will be your mode of transportation.” Nozel said shoving the broom into her hands and walking away, Solid snickered behind her before following his brother inside.

Nebra huffed as she inspected it, she was a royal not some commoner or peasant, she should be able to travel luxuriously not like this! But she sighed, her brother had basically ordered her to use this stupid thing without actually ordering her too. She quickly sat on it, using her mana to levitate it off the ground, and flew to her new ‘home’.

‘Why? Why me?!’

———

“ Took you two long enough!” Yami grumbled as Nebra and Zora walked in, the two looked anything but happy. They had arrived at the same time and did nothing but glare at one another. This was going to go great. Yami shook his head as he helped Charlotte finish dinner. She said it was some sort of stew her family used to have when she was growing up. From what he could tell it didn’t smell too bad, it would be anything like what Charmy cooked, but he hoped it would be close enough.

“ Sorry Captain. There was traffic.” Zora said as he walked over to one of the chairs and sat down, Zebra rolled her eyes at his lame excuse and walked over to the chair opposite him and sat down as well.

“ Traffic my ass. You were stalling, both of you.” Yami glared at the red haired mage, who only shrugged in response. While the silver haired mage just ‘hmphed’ and looked away. Yami sighed as he looked over at Charlotte, they were both thinking the same thing.

This was going to be a nightmare.

“ Guys! Dinners ready!” Charlotte shouted as she walked over to the dining table and set the pot of stew down. Yami grabbed the bowls, glasses, and a few pitchers of water before he began to set the table, it was the least he could do since he wasn’t much help cooking.

The magic knights looked up as Hikari, Josslyn, and Ace walked into the room. Ace’s face lit up when he saw his ‘mother’ and he quickly walked over and sat down next to her, much to Nebra’s surprise, while Josslyn sat next to Zora.

“ I hope you all like this, I haven't cooked in a while so I can’t promise it’ll be very edible.” Charlotte said a little nervously as she sat down at one end of the table, Yami sat at the other end and Hikari sat on his left side.

“ I’m sure it’ll be fine, Prickly Princess.” Yami said with a shrug as he and the others began to fill up their bowls.

Dinner passed by awkwardly.

The families all didn’t really know what to say to each other, there were a few comments made complimenting Charlotte’s cooking, while there was a little idle chatter between Hikari and Josslyn. But what really made things awkward were the looks Nebra and Zora were giving each other. They just kept glaring at each other, and making snarky comments towards one another the entire evening. Poor Ace just looked between them with a sad look on his face, he couldn’t believe these were his parents, he just couldn’t!

“ Well, this is awkward.” Josslyn commented as they all sat there in silence, Hikari laughed softly before nodding in agreement.

“ Yes it is. But I think it’s mostly because we all don’t really know each other yet. As time passes we’ll all become more comfortable around each other.” Hikari said as she took a sip of water. Charlotte nodded in agreement.

“ She’s right. This is an adjustment for all of us. It’s going to take longer than a few hours or a couple of days for us to kind of get a sense of each other.” Charlotte turned as Zora snorted.

“ I dunno, you three seem pretty comfortable already.” Zora pointed at Yami, Hikari, and Charlotte before drinking his own glass of water. The three in question looked at each other in surprise.

He wasn’t wrong. The three had only known each other for a day at most, and yet they were already pretty comfortable around each other. Yami helped Charlotte cook dinner, which wasn’t something he normally did. Charlotte had asked Hikari if she had any boyfriends, which was something she didn’t normally ask people. It was strange.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and all 7 people turned towards it. Yami and Charlotte looked at each other before standing up and walking towards it, Yami had a hand on his Katana as Charlotte had her grimoire at the ready. Zora and Nebra stood as well, ready to give the Captain’s back up should they need it. Ace stood and ran towards his older sister and hid slightly behind her, the pink hair girl had her grimoire out as did Hikari. They all waited with baited breath as Yami slowly opened the door.

“ Vangeance?” Yami said in surprise as he opened the door wider to reveal the masked Captain of the Golden Dawn. As well as a white haired young man that stood next to him, a small smile on his face.

“ Ah Yami, it’s good to see you. Julius said you would be here. May I come in?” William asked politely, he nodded and moved aside to allow them in. Charlotte frowned slightly.

“ What are you doing here?” She asked as she crossed her arms, William laughed somewhat sheepishly which only confused her more.

“ Well, you see-.” William didn’t get to finish his sentence before Hikari interrupted.

“ Alistar?!” She quickly put her grimoire away and walked around the table to look at him. She couldn’t believe it, he actually made it! Well, of course he made it, she didn’t have a single doubt in her mind that he wouldn’t. But still, she couldn’t help but feel relieved to know he was here safe. She was his bodyguard afterall.

“ Hikari. It’s good to see you made it here in one piece.” Alistar said warmly, he felt a wave of relief wash over him at the sight of her. She was here, and she was safe. He may not have looked it on the outside, but on the inside his stomach had been in knots the entire way here, he was worried sick about her. Sure she could handle herself if she had too. But that still didn’t mean he couldn’t worry about her.

“ Oh great, pretty boy’s here.” Josslyn grumbled as she say back down and glared slightly at him, Alistar chuckled even though she was glaring icly at him, his warm smile still remained.

“ It’s good to see you too, Josslyn.” Alistar answered shortly, yet still polite. He noticed Ace still standing next to his sister and he gave the young boy a small wave, which was returned. “ It’s good to see you as well Ace.”

“ What? Were you worried about me Golden Boy?” Hikari asked, quickly changing the subject. Alistar’s smile turned into a bit of a smirk at her question.

“ Not at all. I knew you’d be ok. After all, I wouldn’t have made you my bodyguard otherwise.” Alistar said, but a knowing look passed between the two. He hadn’t asked her to be his bodyguard, she appointed herself his bodyguard shortly after they had met.

“ Uh-huh, whatever you say, Golden Boy.” She said with a shake of her head before walking up to him. She gave him a once over, probably to check for any injuries, before nodding in satisfaction that he was in fact ok. But oddly she didn’t notice Alistar had done the exact same thing. She was usually very observant.

“ Honestly though, I’m glad you’re ok.” Hikari suddenly looked up at him, and Alistar’s heart stopped dead in his chest.

She was smiling, not a smirk or a half smile like she normally would give him. But a smile. One that showed she was truly relieved to see him here, to see that he was ok. It was a warm friendly smile, and it caused Alistar’s heart to stop. No one knew he had a crush on the young Sukehiro, he had done his best to keep it hidden from people, but she made it very difficult to hide when she smiled at him like that. Alistar looked away and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“ Thank you, I’m glad you’re ok as well.” He told her kindy, he mentally face palmed himself. ‘Seriously?! That’s all you can say? Just repeating what she told you?!’ His mind shouted at him, anytime she showed her kinder and softer side he always became tongue tied and his mind would go blank. He was suddenly pulled out of his thoughts as Hikari grabbed his wrist and dragged him to the table.

“ You’re looking thin and pale. C’mon, some of mom’s stew should fill you up!” She told him as she dragged him to the table, pushed him into the chair, and put a bowl and spoon in front of him.

The adults watched the exchange curiously, all the kids seem to know each other, and know each other pretty well. Yami turned to look at William.

“ Alistar’s your son I take it?” He asked before crossing his arms, William nodded.

“ He is. Which is why Julius sent us here.” William said before walking over to the couch and sitting down, Zora and Nebra walked over to others as well, deciding to let the kids all hang out together in the dining room.

“ How did you find him?” Charlotte asked curiously as she sat down as well.

“ We didn’t. He found us.” William said with a small laugh before leaning forward, Yami sat down across from him and leaned back in his chair.

“ I take it that’s what you were going to explain when the kids started catching up?” Yami asked and, again, William nodded.

“ Yes, I was. It’s a long story.” William took a breath before he began to explain his meeting with Julius and Alistar.

———

Again I apologize this chapter isn’t very good. But I hope you all enjoyed, thanks for reading and I hope you all have a good day~!

[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Act 2, chapter 8

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Content warnings: None

Morgan followed the sound of voices through the archives. He'd taken a more familiar route this time, one that skirted closer to the markets than he'd liked. Blaise and Cain were discussing something, but Cain stopped mid-sentence when he spied Morgan.

"Morgan! It's good to see you again, friend, though I had not expected you so soon." Morgan allowed himself a small smile. He'd missed Cain and his stories, his easy friendliness.

Blaise spun around to face him. "What are you doing here? You-" She seemed to lose her train of thought briefly as her eyes lingered at the collar of his shirt. "You should be resting."

"I want to make up for the time I've lost," Morgan said, growing serious again. He didn't feel tired, exactly, and anyway there was no respite to be found in his shared room. "There are demons seeking the tomb of Tal Rasha as well. Time is of the essence. What is it you've found?"

He couldn't read Blaise's expression as he came around the table to look at the books laid out across it. It turned out that finding the tomb would only be half the problem. There was a specific artifact needed to open it, and it had been split into pieces. A staff, which Morgan recognized from a tour of the local museum, and an amulet, which Blaise had already managed to recover from the demons who had held it. But it was not as simple as just having the pieces; there was a strange device required to bind them together, and that was guarded in yet another tomb by magical traps set by an ancient order of mages known as the Horadrim. Cain was familiar with this order, luckily enough, and was certain that he would be able to use the device once they'd located it, and it looked like Blaise had already eliminated several options from a long list of possible locations for that tomb.

It was growing late in the day, though, and Blaise flatly refused to start a new expedition before the morning. "You might be fine," she groused, not sounding as though she believed that to be the case at all, "but I'm hungry and tired. I'm going back to the palace. You can come with me, if you want. You could probably use the rest."

Morgan didn't want to go back, not yet. He looked down at the map on the table in front of him. Most of the marked locations were far enough from the city to be troublesome, but within a reasonable distance of a waypoint. Potentially good ways to keep himself occupied, to make sure his skills hadn't suffered too badly from disuse. Unfortunately, he'd never accessed most of the waypoints. He would need help with that.

"I'll stay here for the night. I can catch up on research." He paused. Perhaps someone else could act as a guide, someone he wasn't already deeply indebted to. "Is there someone who could show me to these waypoints?"

"Yeah. Me. Tomorrow." No luck there, then. Blaise put one hand on her hip. "Are you really sure you want to stay here?"

"Yes." He'd fled his room for a reason. If he didn't have something useful to focus his attention on now, he was going to come apart at the seams. He just needed to occupy himself, and that was going to be much easier here.

"All right, fine. But I'm not going to take you anywhere tomorrow if you haven't gotten any rest."

Anger flared suddenly hot in Morgan's chest. She kept insisting he rest, as though he hadn't just lost - how much time exactly wasn't clear, but it was certainly at least a few days of precious time, while she apparently picked up the slack. Did she still think of him as a child, someone who needed to be taken care of? Just another responsibility to shoulder? He slammed his open hand down on the table, growling "I don't want-"

He caught himself there, squeezed his eyes shut. Took a deep breath. Control. She had every reason to see him as an inconvenience, and that wasn't important. How others perceived him was inconsequential, he reminded himself. The only thing that really mattered was the Balance. His most important task was to find and stop the demons intent on upsetting it, and he wasn't going to get any closer to that goal by antagonizing a person who could help him. What he needed was her cooperation, not her respect.

"I apologize for that outburst," he said, opening his eyes but keeping them deferentially cast down. "It was not called for. I have had my fill of sitting idle, but I will rest when I need to."

Blaise was silent for a moment. "That's... whatever. Fine. See you tomorrow." She left without further comment. Morgan smoothed down the paper he'd rumpled in his childish show of temper. Not counting the claw vipers, it had been a long while since the last time he'd let himself get agitated to the point of lashing out. He was still on edge, not feeling quite settled in his skin after all that had happened. How long was it going to take him to get back to normal? He would have to focus his meditation on regaining emotional control for a while. This type of behaviour was totally unacceptable.

Cain cleared his throat. "Shall we continue? I believe I have at least another half hour in me today." He smiled warmly and Morgan relaxed a little. He could count on the scholar to leave well enough alone, to focus on the task at hand as he so badly needed to do.

"Yes, please."

Cain dedicated the better part of the next hour to filling in details about the Horadrim and their role in imprisoning Baal. He had managed to put together a diagram of the runes he suspected would be holding the demon lord in place, which Morgan set aside carefully to memorize later. He also had a general idea of the area where the Horadric cube, the device required to reunite the staff, was located, and what manner of traps would be securing it. The trouble was that the desert landscape had shifted over the intervening years, so none of the nearby landmarks were there any more. It was in this general area that Blaise had been concentrating her efforts, having gotten clearance from her superiors to pursue the lead. She had made impressive progress. Hopefully she would still be willing to work with Morgan after he'd repaid her efforts with nothing but a short temper. She didn't tend to accept apologies well, though. He'd just have to work harder at making himself useful.

After Cain retired for the evening, Morgan settled into what felt like a reasonable pattern of alternating between study and meditation. He had to ease himself into it at first; the urge to focus all of his energy on the problem of finding the cube was very strong. But the longer he studied, the more he realized he did need to rest himself properly. Once he passed the initial hurdle of forcing himself to stop and meditate, it was actually a relief to do so. It was good to meditate with peaceful intent again. The familiar, uninterrupted mental exercises were calming in a way he'd sorely missed, and it felt like a luxury to be able to sit in a comfortable chair again. Of course, everything felt like a luxury, compared to... well. It was nice to have a fresh appreciation for the small things.

By the time the sun was coming up, Morgan was satisfied that his understanding was at least adequate. Blaise and Cain found him leaning over the table comparing two maps, trying to pick out notable landmarks from the older one that might still be recognizable in some way.

"Good morning," he greeted them, looking up from his comparison a few seconds later. Both appeared to be in reasonably good spirits.

"Morning. So, do you still want to go out today, or do you want to keep studying?" Blaise lingered at the threshold while Cain made his way around the large table.

"I'd like to join the search today. I've rested," Morgan added quickly at the expression that flickered across her face. "More than I expected. I can keep up."

"Right. Get your gear and some breakfast then, we should go before it gets too much hotter."

Morgan flinched as a hand came down on his own. He'd almost forgotten Cain's tendency towards this sort of casual contact. The old man patted his hand twice, smiling encouragingly.

"Do stay safe out there. Good luck."

"Thank you," Morgan said, sliding his hand away. "I'll meet you at the waypoint," he suggested as he headed past Blaise. She didn't agree or refuse, instead following him out of the archives wordlessly. She only broke her silence once they were outside.

"You know you don't have to do this," she said, uncharacteristically quiet. Morgan searched her face, but couldn't identify the expression on it.

"No, I do. I can't just stand by and do nothing as evil gathers its forces. As a follower of-" he caught himself, remembering they were out in public. "I am obligated to do everything in my power to ensure that Darkness does not triumph over the Light," he explained instead.

"After all you - I mean, don't you think you've done enough by now?" Her unreadable expression didn't budge. At least it wasn't anger, he decided. That was a positive.

"No. There is no 'enough' until the Balance is righted. And even then, there will always be more to do." It wasn't a single task to be completed, it was a duty that extended past the definition of 'lifelong' as most people knew it. Long after his body was dust, even long after his spirit faded, there would still be more to do. It just wouldn't be his to do any more. But since there was still life in him in this world, he had to keep working toward the larger goal.

Blaise seemed unsatisfied with his response, but they had reached the waypoint. "Well, I guess I'll scout ahead while you get yourself together. If I'm not here when you get back, just wait for me."

"Very well." He turned to head towards the palace. If he was fast enough, he could get equipped and still visit the marketplace before it got too busy. There was a vendor who sold nuts and cheeses, good nutrient-dense foods that would be suitable for eating while travelling. It would save time if he could avoid larger meals altogether.

Morgan was relieved to find his room empty when he reached it. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Jemali, exactly, but he wasn't looking forward to it either. Not before he managed to get a handle on his emotions. To dismiss the lingering ache of disappointment that he'd invited in by allowing himself to believe briefly, stupidly, that the kindness he'd received had been anything other than a transaction. Of course he knew better, but it had been a moment of weakness. Nothing to do for it but try to get stronger.

His equipment was still as he'd left it. Despite not wanting to keep Blaise waiting longer than necessary, he let himself fall into an easy rhythm of tightening and checking buckles, running his fingers along the edges of the straps to find any thinning or splitting spots. It was a pleasantly tactile exercise, and the familiarity was a comfort.

The small bag of trinkets had been placed back with the others. It was tempting to go through them, to satisfy his vague curiosity about the cost of Jemali's service, but he'd already spent more time than he intended here. It was time to move on to the marketplace, then the desert. Yes, it was good to have an itinerary again.

[wesawbears]

48 w/ Geraskier DO IT COWARD

“You make me want things I can’t have”

Enjoy and follow the read more!!!

--

The first time Geralt traveled with Jaskier, he hadn’t known what to make of the little bard. He was either impossibly brave, impossibly stupid, or a combination of the two. He gained a grudging respect for him, though, after he insisted on writing that song to boost Geralt’s reputation. He wasn’t vain enough to believe it held any truth, but Jaskier didn’t smell of fear and clearly wanted to be around him, so he allowed it for now. Surely, the whole thing was just a fluke and Jaskier would have his head turned soon enough by something or someone shiny and pretty before long. Geralt was neither shiny nor pretty, and the bard wasn’t suited for this long term.

Despite his constant complaining, though, Jaskier adjusted quickly to life on the road, quicker than Geralt had expected. WIth time, it was even...nice. To have someone to make the days on the road not run together as much, and someone who made inn stops a bit more frequent. His aching muscles appreciated the continued baths and while the oils the bard insisted on using were too strong for him, he would leave Geralt oils that were subtler, but relaxing. After long enough together, Jaskier even took to combing his hair and massaging the knots out of his shoulders. He didn’t know why he let him, only that at a certain point he was too tired to refuse.

A small part of him whispered that he shouldn’t be getting used to these luxuries. It would just make going back to his life worse once Jaskier finally saw sense and went on his merry way. Which he really should soon, before he got himself into trouble Geralt couldn’t get him out of. Or worse, trouble Geralt got him into. Geralt got by without him for decades, and he would continue to do so after he was gone. Better that the bard (not his, never his) leave heartbroken with a story than meet his end here than with his fragile human body broken, eyes lifeless. 

Still, not matter how much vitriol he threw his way, Jaskier remained unphased, his scent annoyingly free of any fear or even worry. So, he continued to follow and Geralt continued to try and not get attached. Sometimes, they would separate for a few weeks or months, Jaskier chasing a contract he couldn’t refuse, or Geralt needing to go after something alone. They had their spats, as was only natural with the two tempestuous tempers they possessed. They never parted on bad terms and Geralt told himself every time that this was the last time.

He never expected to actually find Jaskier again, truly. But sure enough, some time would go by and he would hear that familiar voice, smell honey and sea salt, and the bard would be there, as if he’d never left. It was one of these such times when things came to a head between them.

Geralt had just fought a leshen- nasty one at that- and the best he could hope for was coin enough for stew and a bed. He made his way into the inn to find it already occupied by his bard charming the crowd. Upon seeing Geralt, his face brightened, and the pace of his songs picked up as Geralt found a corner to eat and drink and watch from. He would never admit it to Jaskier (or anyone) but he felt something inside him unwind from watching the little bird flit about. He was content waiting, knowing Jaskier would come to him when he was finished.

After a bit, Jaskier bowed to his adoring crowd and made his way over to Geralt, his easy sway betraying his own eagerness, but only to Geralt’s keen eye.

“Geralt! You came just in time- I’ve really warmed this crowd up to you. I wish I had known what you were fighting, I could’ve come up with something- hmm. What is that?” He swiped a finger through some dirt on Geralt’s shoulder. 

Geralt “hmm”ed and had to clench his teeth against the unexpected tenderness, more than he deserved and less than he desired. “Leshen,” he answered simply.

Jaskier brushed his hand through some more dirt, even threading his fingers through a knot in Geralt’s hair. “And, knowing you, you probably were about to just fall into bed without even washing the...leshen off of you. You’re so fortunate to have run into me. Oh! I can tell you all about what I saw at court, I’m sure it was a faerie…”

“Faeries aren’t real.” That wasn’t technically true, but Geralt wasn’t about to tell him that. He just knew faeries were too smart to be around that many humans. Jaskier was far more likely to run into one on the road with Geralt, but he definitely wasn’t going to mention that either. Faeries were difficult to fight, and Geralt had no desire to kill a dying breed.

Jaskier put his hands on his hips and huffed. “You’re just grumpy because you haven’t had a proper bath in weeks. Come on, you lug.”

If any other witcher saw him like this, allowing a human to pull him about, he would be laughed at mercilessly. However, he let himself be drawn into a room and sat on the bed while Jaskier called up a bath. He was able to heat the water with Igni, and allowed himself a small groan of relief as the water worked over his muscles. He heard Jaskier chuckle as he prepared some oils he knew didn’t upset Geralt’s senses. He began washing his face and arms and was caught off guard by Jaskier’s calloused fingers digging into his shoulders.

Jaskier tsked. “All that tension. What is the witcher plan for when all your muscles atrophy from being hard as rocks?”

“That’s dramatic.”

“I don’t think so. This feels distinctly rock-like to me.” He pressed into a knot hard and Geralt groaned as it loosened.

“Are you just going to shove it into submission?” he snarled.

Anyone else would have cowered, but Jaskier just rolled his eyes. “If you wanted gentle, you could go find a whore.”

Geralt grunted in agreement. It was a fair point. He found that being around Jaskier lessened his desire to seek out company elsewhere, though, which was...odd, considering he wasn’t sleeping with the bard. In some ways, it seemed he’d received more touch from the bard than from any of the whores he’d sought out. 

He closed his eyes and let himself drift, focusing on the relaxation of his muscles instead of the confusion inside him. Sensing that his mind was elsewhere, Jaskier simply hummed as he worked. He moved after a bit to combing through Geralt’s hair, He said that he liked doing it, that it was calming. It was normally soothing for Geralt as well, but today it felt too intimate- dangerous. It was too close to what he wanted. He shouldn’t have been able to jump back into a routine so easily, shouldn’t crave the songbird’s touch as much as he did. His hands shouldn’t feel different than anyone else’s. He’d come to accept that Jaskier wasn’t going to run from him, but what of the dangers of being associated with a witcher? The target placed on his back, the exposure to creatures that could kill him? What of the thankless job that came with caring for something that wasn’t made for soft touches and sweet words?

“For all your grunts and hmms, you think more loudly than anyone I’ve ever known.”

“What am I thinking, then?”

Jaskier moved to the front of the tub and looked at Geralt, squinting. “Something grim and self loathing, which is unfair considering all the work I just put into making your back feel like butter.”

Geralt grunted. His back did feel better, better than it had in weeks. When, didn’t continue, Jaskier sighed and tried again.

“Geralt, come on. Give me something, some clue to what’s going on in that head of yours.”

Geralt pressed his mouth into a hard line and tried not to see  Jaskier’s too blue eyes boring into him. He was so young. He hadn’t learned yet to keep his heart hidden. Maybe he never would. Geralt didn’t know which option he felt better about.

At last, he looked at him and sighed. “You make me want things I can’t have.”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow, looking exceedingly, infuriatingly fond. “And what can’t you have, dear witcher?” he asked. The only tell that he’s invested in this conversation was the nervous drumming of his fingers against the tub.

“This...you. Taking...care of me.”

“I would think that was my decision.”

Geralt exhaled. “You can’t want this.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes again. “Yes, yes, you’re exceedingly tortured and difficult to be around. Has it occurred to you that people aren’t lining up to be around me either?” Geralt’s about to protest when Jaskier continues, “For more than a night, I mean. Not that those nights aren’t lovely. But you, my wolf, are my longest standing engagement. Does that strike you as coincidence?”

“Hmm,” Geralt said simply and Jaskier scoffs as though he’s said something profound. He rested his chin on his elbows and looked at Geralt. “What do you want that you don’t already have?”

Geralt considered that. Before he can finish his thought, he moved forward to take Jaskier’s face in his wet hands and kissed him. Jaskier relaxed into it easily, though he was anything but a docile kisser, nipping at Geralt’s lips until he growled a bit.

At that, Jaskier pulled away, laughing. Geralt wants to lick the sound from his mouth, keep it safe inside him. “Was that so hard?”

Geralt hmphed and slumped back into the tub, splashing Jaskier a little. 

“Very mature. Come on, out of the tub with you, before you become a prune.”

Geralt stood, not bothering with modestly and Jaskier, as usual, didn’t look away. 

“You’re drying off before you kiss me again.”

Geralt grunted, but reached for a towel, though he couldn’t resist flicking a bit of water toward Jaskier.

“Hey! No! See if I give you anything after you’ve acted so rudely.”

Geralt smirked and saw Jaskier’s resolve turn to dust. “Dry off quickly,” he said and sauntered off, leaving Geralt mesmerized.

He wanted the bard and the bard wanted him. The rest could be figured out later.

[nickborisov]

NIKOLAI BORISOV | THE ICARUS 

“IT WAS A PLEASURE TO BURN.” -RAY BRADBURY 

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: nikolai borisov

MEANING:

nikolai ( slavic ) - victory of the people

borsiov ( russian ) - of boris

NICKNAME(S): nik, kolya, firebug, nikashka, pup (only by his father)

PREFERRED NAME(S): nikolai, nik

BIRTH DATE: august 9th, 1990

AGE: 30

ZODIAC: leo

GENDER: male

PRONOUNS: he / his

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: panromantic

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: pansexual

NATIONALITY: russian

ETHNICITY: russian

CURRENT LOCATION: verona, italy

LIVING CONDITIONS: nikolai is used to moving around, so he doesn’t put much stock in where exactly he lives. his apartment is out of the way of most of the city’s main thoroughfare, near several abandoned warehouses so that he can work and create without drawing a lot of attention. it’s nicer than he would normally find for himself, because he’s been in verona longer than he’s ever been anywhere else--it has a balcony, a spare room for a makeshift workshop, and a nice kitchen.

TITLE(S): the icarus, nick bottom, fireman, that russian arsonist, that crazy bastard

BACKGROUND

BIRTHPLACE / HOMETOWN: murmansk, russia

SOCIAL CLASS: nik grew up with a single father, so he was always lower middle class. when he initially started traveling he often found himself living meal to meal, but then he discovered that people were willing to pay a lot of money for his specific set of skills. he has more money than he really knows what to do with, he just chooses not to use it most of the time--he doesn’t care about advancing his social standing or buying himself nice things.

EDUCATION LEVEL: dropped out of high school.

FATHER: andrei borisov

MOTHER: marya morozov

SIBLING(S): none as far as he knows. he doesn’t have a relationship with his mother--she could have more children he doesn’t know about.

CHILDREN: none

PET(S): none--but he makes an effort to feed any stray that he might come across, give them a pet and a smile.

OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: nik never really met the rest of his family--they all moved away from murmansk at some point, and nik and his father could rarely afford to travel that far. occasionally he might get a call from an aunt or an uncle on a holiday, but those were pretty few and far between. his mother wanted nothing to do with him, so he knows nothing about her side of the family.

PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS:

edward little : a university student with an interest in studying the arctic. they were together for a little over a year when ed got a grant to study in norway, and nik just decided to move on.

zaid khadem : a poet that nik met in cairo. they were together for a couple of months before nik moved on again.

anna fallon : a singer / songwriter from new york city. they lived together for nearly three years before her career and nik’s restless nature drew them in separate directions.

ARRESTS?: too many to count--especially when he was just starting out.

PRISON TIME?: at this point in his life, nik is pretty good at avoiding real jail time.

OCCUPATION + HOME

PRIMARY SOURCE OF INCOME: arson and designing explosive devices for the montagues and the capulets, or anyone who can afford to hire him.

SECONDARY SOURCE OF INCOME: n/a

CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB (OR LACK THERE OF)?: absolutely, it’s the only thing he’s really ever been good at, and its the only thing he’s ever really understood with any clarity. fire makes sense to him, fire brings him comfort--if he wasn’t lighting fires he thinks that the ice he was born into would wear away at his bones, and his life would lack any purpose.

PAST JOB(S): nik has only ever lit fires and orchestrated explosions professionally--before that he relied on stealing to stay alive.

SPENDING HABITS: there was no extra money when he was growing up, and now that he’s making an absurd amount of money he doesn’t really like spending it, or know what to spend it on. he gets what he needs to survive, maybe an occasional gift for the people that he cares about, and that’s really it. he refuses to become like the upper class he’s seen in verona--and he doesn’t think they would accept him, even if he did decide to start spending his money and clean up his image.

MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: his first lighter, which he lifted from his father. he doesn’t use it anymore, but it reminds him of where he came from, all of the reasons that he won’t go back.

SKILLS + ABILITIES

PHYSICAL STRENGTH: 5/10? pretty average--he’s tall and thin but his frame has some muscle to it. arson doesn’t require a whole lot of physical strength, but he enjoys boxing as a way to burn off excess energy, and he lived on the streets for a long time which taught him that he needed to be able to protect himself at a moment’s notice.

OFFENSE: 6/10. fighting was pretty much the only thing to do to waste time when he was growing up, and he likes to box in his spare time.

DEFENSE: 8/10. traveling and living on the streets of various countries taught him to defend what he has, by any means necessary.

SPEED: 7/10. running is the action he engages in most often--running from explosions or infernos, from the police--he has to be fast in order to keep himself alive and out of jail.

INTELLIGENCE: impossible to really define? he’s not book smart by any stretch of the imagination, he knows a lot about survival and he’s got a natural ability with languages. he also has the ability to construct complicated explosive devices and can determine the best way to light up any kind of building. he just isn’t quite like everyone else and his mind doesn’t work like everyone else’s mind works--but that doesn’t mean that he lacks intelligence.

ACCURACY: 4/10. he’s only shot a gun a couple of times, and he doesn’t really possess the patience to make himself a better marksman.

AGILITY: 8/10. also nessecary for getting out of the way of his creations and those who would oppose them.

STAMINA: 7/10. he’s not out of shape, but he does repeatedly inhale smoke which means his lungs work at diminished capacity.

TEAMWORK: 3/10. there are few people who can interpret him, and he would rather not have to explain himself. he deals with a client in the most bare-bones way possible, and then does the work himself.

TALENTS: he’s a decent boxer, and he’s naturally adept at languages. he also, obviously, has a talent for setting fires in a variety of settings, and designing explosive devices. he knows something about forging metal as well from being in his father’s workshop, but he’s never actually used those skills.

SHORTCOMINGS: he has a tendency to run before he really gets invested in things, he prefers chaos to order and planning, and he doesn’t generally allow himself to be understood by other people.

LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: russian, english, italian, a little bit of arabic, a little bit of spanish, and a little bit of french.

DRIVE?: yes

JUMP-START A CAR?: yes

CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: yes

RIDE A BICYCLE?: no

SWIM?: yes

PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: no.

PLAY CHESS?: no.

BRAID HAIR?: no.

TIE A TIE?: no--he hates wearing them and will avoid it at all costs.

PICK A LOCK?: yes

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE + CHARACTERISTICS

FACE CLAIM: boyd holbrook

EYE COLOR: blue / grey

HAIR COLOR: dirty blonde

HAIR TYPE/STYLE: on the longer side and unkempt--he could give a damn about taking care of it, and he’ll shove it under a beanie or some other kind of hat 9 times out of 10.

GLASSES/CONTACTS?: none.

DOMINANT HAND: left

HEIGHT: 6′2

WEIGHT: 160

BUILD: tall and wiry--any muscle he has is very lean.

EXERCISE HABITS: boxing, running as part of his job.

SKIN TONE: the sun was a luxury where he grew up, so he tends to be pretty pale.

TATTOOS: a match and a lighter on his chest, his father’s initials in cyrillic on the inside of his wrist, an illustrated molotov on his calf from a drunken dare. he wants more--for the people he’s come to care about during his time in verona.

PIERCINGS: none.

MARKS/SCARS: he’s got burn scars of varying degrees all along his hands and arms.

NOTABLE FEATURES: cheekbones, his expressive mouth and eyes, the constant smell of kerosene and smoke.

USUAL EXPRESSION: grinning wolfishly.

CLOTHING STYLE: clothes that should have been thrown out years ago, leather jackets, flannel shirts, jeans with holes in the knees and stains that are practically archaic, doc martens, converse with holes in them, sweaters burned at the sleeves. he doesn’t really care about how he looks--he’s all about what keeps him warm and what is practical. it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to him to spend money on expensive clothes when there’s a chance they’ll just go up in smoke.

JEWELRY: a pocketknife.

MAKEUP: none.

ALLERGIES: boredom, staying in one place too long.

DIET: too much alcohol, not enough vegetables, whatever brielle will take pity on him and make for him.

PHYSICAL AILMENTS: none.

PSYCHOLOGY

JUNG TYPE: ESTP

ENNEAGRAM TYPE: type seven, the enthusiast--the busy, variety seeking type. spontaneous, versatile, acquisitive, scattered.

MORAL ALIGNMENT: chaotic neutral

TEMPERAMENT: sanguine

ELEMENT: fire (lol)

PRIMARY INTELLIGENCE TYPE: bodily-kinesthetic intelligence.

APPROXIMATE IQ: pretty average, but again--his type of intelligence is difficult to measure.

MENTAL CONDITIONS/DISORDERS: nothing diagnosed, but he struggles with anxiety and can border on manic.

SOCIABILITY: there are very few people that nik has ever allowed to try and understand him, and make a place in his life. he’s on the move constantly, so it’s easier for him to just make temporary relationships that can be easily discarded and forgotten about. having a busy single father meant he was on his own most of his life, and he has come to prefer that to prolonged contact with people.

EMOTIONAL STABILITY: it takes a lot to get underneath his veneer of chaotic energy--but he does tend to feel things deeply, when he allows people and emotions to get past it. he generally believes that if he doesn’t think about complicated emotions, about pain and grief and things of that nature, if he keeps himself busy and laughing, then they won’t affect him.

OBSESSION(S): fire, explosions, having a good time, traveling.

COMPULSION(S): to run away before feelings get involved, to laugh loudly when there’s silence, to call attention to the darker and more uglier sides of society by burning down the beautiful things.

PHOBIA(S): he isn’t really afraid of anything--abandonment, maybe, if he allows himself to think about how he came into the world, and the fact that his mother very clearly didn’t want anything to do with him.

ADDICTION(S): he’s an adrenaline junkie, he’s addicted to anything that gives him a rush.

DRUG USE: he’s willing to test any of theo’s creations, but that’s about the extent of it.

ALCOHOL USE: one of his primary coping mechanisms. he’s a vodka man in terms of drink and in terms of accelerants. as long as it’s strong enough to strip paint, and it burns on the way down.

PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: not if he can really help it--but he’s not exactly adverse to it either. he mostly has to see a good reason for it.

MANNERISMS

SPEECH STYLE: fast, barely understood at times, a mixture of russian, Italian, and whatever else he feels expresses his feelings.

ACCENT: russian

QUIRKS: mixing his languages, sometimes he’ll forget words, or make the mistakes common to someone speaking a second or third language. he talks to himself a lot, under his breath. he flicks his lighter open and closed in his pocket when he’s anxious, and he always carries it with him. his whole life is pretty quirky.

HOBBIES: boxing, he’s learning to enjoy reading more, bothering theo in their lab or at their place, wandering the city. he generally doesn’t have a lot of time for hobbies, but since he’s been in verona longer than he has anywhere else, he’s working on developing more.

NERVOUS TICKS: dragging a hand through his hair, flicking his lighter open and closed, licking over the points of his canines.

DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: to see every corner of the world, to watch it burn behind him. he generally is motivated by a desire to unsettle the dust, to spark something incredible. like an inventor or a scientist--he wants to create.

FEARS: abandonment, other than that he prides himself on not being scared of anything.

POSITIVE TRAITS: creative, resourceful, fun-loving.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: cynical, stubborn, flighty

SENSE OF HUMOR: all over the place--dad jokes, puns, sarcasm, anything that will make himself laugh primarily.

DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?: all the time, and in several different languages. his favorite is his mother tongue, the ones he learned first.

FAVORITES

ACTIVITY: bothering theo and lighting fires.

ANIMAL: any kind of dog.

BEVERAGE: vodka.

BOOK: fahrenheit 451, treasure island, the count of monte cristo

COLOR: red

DESIGNER: he doesn’t have one.

FOOD: solyanka and whatever brielle makes for him.

FLOWER: dahlia

GEM: ruby

HOLIDAY: halloween, new year’s eve

MOVIE: all three Indiana jones movies, treasure planet, rebel without a cause

QUOTE/SAYING:

“oh i don't mean you’re handsome, not in the way people think of handsome. your face seems kind. but your eyes--they’re beautiful. they’re wild, crazy, like some animal peering out of a forest on fire.”

-charles bukowski

SCENT: kerosene and smoke

SPORT: boxing

TELEVISION SHOW: man vs. wild, drunk history, black sails

WEATHER: anything warm--he had enough cold growing up.

VACATION DESTINATION: the mountains of nepal.

ATTITUDES

GREATEST DREAM: get out of verona, hopefully with the person he loves by his side. MOST AT EASE WHEN: he’s most at ease when he’s working, or when he’s with brielle or theo. LEAST AT EASE WHEN: he’s forced to interact with any of verona’s “upper class”, people who look at him as nothing better than a stray dog. WORST POSSIBLE THING THAT COULD HAPPEN: theo getting bored of him and keeping him out of their life for good, having nowhere else to go but back to murmansk, having no choice but to join one of the mobs. BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: leaving murmansk, learning to make a living doing what he loves. BIGGEST REGRET:  not having a better relationship with his father, allowing himself to get wrapped up in the war in verona. TOP PRIORITIES: keeping theo alive, staying neutral.

[ilovemygaydad]

title: (love)

pairing: logince, queerplatonic moxiety

summary: sir roman and prince logan are in love, and they’re running away from the kingdom they’ve known for their whole lives to avoid 

warnings: forbidden romance, running away, mentions of witchcraft, homophobic kingdoms, bigoted kingdoms (against magical creatures), mentions of death, mentions of banishment, mentions of fear and anxiety, a single neck kiss, a tiny bit of yelling (nothing bad), mentions of being drunk/alcohol, mentions of kissing, and possibly something else

a/n: this was written for @adultmorelikeadolt to get them to eat. it worked. also, yeah that’s the title. it’s nice and i like it, so... blah

check my bio for commission info

buy me a coffee

-

A hurried knock sharply rapped at the door of Roman’s room at the end of the barracks, causing him to look up from his packing. He rushed to the door and flung it open, and not a half second later, he was tackled to the floor with a soft oof. The grip around him was tight but not harsh. In fact, it was more fervent than anything.

“Jeez, Lo, you couldn’t have been a little less forceful?” Roman chuckled as he pressed a kiss to the other man’s head.

“Don’t tease me, or I’ll have you tried for treason,” Logan grumbled.

“Yes, of course.” He buried his face in the prince’s hair to prevent him from giggling. “And you’ll explain why exactly you were in my room at the dead of night with two suitcases and your traveling cloak. I’m sure, dear heart.”

Logan raised his head to the knight, looking uncharacteristically worried. “Are you ready to go?”

“Almost. I was just finishing with my bedding. I’ll finish as soon as you let me up.”

Within a moment, Logan had rolled off of Roman and sat himself cross-legged on the floor to allow the knight to get up and finish packing his bags. He sighed, watching, and and said, “You have had three weeks to prepare to run away, and you are still waiting until the last minute to pack. Unbelievable.”

“As if you could expect anything else from me, Prince Boring. What? Were you packed by last week?”

“For the most part, yes.”

Roman scoffed and threw a bundled sock at the man across the room. Although their plan was extremely dangerous, and should they be caught, Roman would immediately be killed under the presumption of “kidnapping the crown prince” and “betraying the kingdom,” he knew that running away was the right thing to do. The kingdom of Idyllia was a good place on the surface. It’s people were happy and healthy; its economy was thriving both agricultural and mechanical exports. Things seemed wonderful, truly, and when people heard of the name Idyllia, they thought of prosperity.

However, despite those upsides, there were some severe downfalls of the kingdom. Magical creatures lived in fear of capture and death, and tight reigns were kept on education and knowledge. Despite there being low poverty rates, the socioeconomic classes were kept strictly apart, and it was impossible to rise up in the world. 

Not to mention that any relationship that wasn’t heterosexual was outlawed, and anyone caught in a non-hetero relationship was banished to the wastelands at the far edge of the kingdom.

So the crown prince and head knight, who were in a homosexual relationship, were running away from the kingdom that they had known their whole lives.

“Are you scared?” Roman suddenly blurted, looking over at his boyfriend. “What if we’re found out?”

“We won’t be. Virgil is right on the other side of the wall, and he’ll glamour us as soon as we get there.” Even as he said that, a spark of worry was evident behind Logan’s thick glasses. Roman really couldn’t blame him, though. He was a prince; his whole life had been spent in luxury, and now he was giving everything up for a brash knight. All because they’d happened to be just drunk enough after Logan’s eighteenth birthday gala to let go of their predestined roles and end up kissing in the darkest corner of the library.

It would have been far easier for Logan to either forget the kiss had happened or to snitch on the knight and get him sent away, but Logan hadn’t. He continued to visit Roman in the late hours of the night, and slowly, they fell in love. Somewhere along the line, they realized that they wouldn’t be able to let their relationship go once Logan was expected to find a viable suitor to carry on the royal bloodline, and they began to make plans to run away.

Roman had found out about two witches that lived far in the forest--one of whom specialized in glamours and disguise. He found an excuse to go on a solo quest out to find the witches, and just a few weeks later, he had befriended them. It had been tough at first since the younger had been highly skeptical of him for many days, but once the other had convinced him that Roman meant no harm, they were both easily won over. He and Virgil planned out a date to leave, and now the day had come to flee.

With a heavy exhale, Roman tied the final knot on his bags and hoisted them on his shoulder. He held his hand out for Logan to take. “Onwards to our new life.”

---

“PATTON, ABSOLUTELY DO NOT JUMP INTO THAT LAKE--oh my gods, I am going to kill that man,” Virgil muttered under his breath as he flopped onto the sandy shore of the lake next to where Roman was cuddling Logan. The four had been traveling for almost a month to one of the far kingdoms of the land, Xelana, which was known for its tolerance. They had never been enemies of Idyllia, but they had also been openly against many of the kingdom’s policies. There was very little chance that anyone in Xelana would even recognize Logan, either, since he had never been that far outside of his kingdom.

If Logan was being honest, he didn’t know if he’d ever enjoyed himself as much as he was now. Patton and Virgil, who he’d only heard about from Roman’s stories, taught him all about different kinds of relationships that weren’t solely sexual relationships between a man and a woman, and it was... enchanting. There were so many kinds of love that he’d been deprived of learning about--all so unique and interesting in their own right--for nearly twenty years. He loved every second of it. He lived for the moments where he and Roman could curl up on a sleeping mat as Patton told them all about people he’d met in other kingdoms, and he relished whenever Virgil would gaze lovingly at his queerplatonic partner (a term that had sparked an intense joy in Logan’s chest when he’d heard it for the first time).

“Hey,” Roman whispered, breaking him from his thoughts. “What’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“My head is perfectly normal sized, Roman. Don’t be daft.”

“The only thing I’m daft about is you, my love.” 

Virgil gagged beside them. “Can you two please be disgusting somewhere else?”

“Oh puh-lease,” Roman retorted. “As if you and Patton aren’t worse.”

That started an intense argument between the two, and Logan just rolled his eyes at the ridiculous insults being thrown about. He merely leaned back into the side of Roman, closing his eyes and enjoying his freedom.

[atc74]

Making Circles - Month One

Square(s) Filled: Fake Marriage for @spngenrebingo

Warnings: Case angst, being fake married to Dean, feels, mentions of death

Summary:  Dean and Y/N have to pretend to be married for a case. But this isn’t any ordinary case. Married couples have gone missing from Albert Lea, Minnesota, every six months for the last few years but there is almost zero evidence. People don’t just disappear like that do they? With Bobby and Sam’s help, plus an ally in their new town, they have just under six months to figure it out. Chances are they’ll survive the case, but will their friendship survive their fake marriage?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2342

Written for: @spngenrebingo

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches, who says the nicest things and makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside and also keeps me on a straight line. I heart you! And @alleiradayne for letting me bounce ideas off her, like all the time. 

A/N:  This will be six chapter series, one for each month of the case, plus a bonus epilogue. Loosely based/inspired by the song Making Circles by Christian Kane and I just felt this needed to be written. There will be lyrics dispersed throughout the entire story. I hope you love this as much as I do. The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

Making Circles master list

Month One

“So get this,” Sam started as Dean and Y/N entered Bobby’s kitchen early one morning. “I think I found a case.” Sam turned his laptop around so they can both see the details.

“You sure this is our kind of thing, Sammy? I don’t know man. This looks pretty normal as far as I can tell,” Dean grumbled, taking a seat.

“What else did you find Sam?” Y/N asked, turning her attention to Sam.

“Well, there have been disappearances going back a few years. Every six months or so another couple is murdered. All of these couples seem normal with blue collar jobs and homes, but from what I was able to dig up, nothing out of the ordinary,” Sam explained. “All the homes of the missing couples have been combed over, but all the evidence is at the Bureau of Criminal Apprehension (BCA) in Saint Paul and they have a mammoth backlog. We may not know anything for months, even years. Or possibly never. It isn’t exactly high priority, ya know?”

“You idjits better get a move on,” Bobby addressed Dean and Y/N as he poured a cup of coffee.

“Bobby, we’ve got basically no intel. We have no idea what we’re hunting and you want us to walk in there blind?” Dean argued with his surrogate father. “That’s not smart. Besides, why does it have to be us?”

“Oh, you want me and Sam to pose as happily married couple?” Bobby smacked Dean across the back of the head.

“Dean, it only makes sense. Y/N and I get along too well and it would be weird, pretending to be married to a woman I view as my sister,” Sam made a face at the thought.  

“Dean, we’ve got time. From this report, the last couple went missing just a week ago. That gives us almost six months to figure it out,” Y/N reasoned as she rose from the table, a smile on her face. “I’m going to go shower and pack.”

An hour later, Y/N and Dean sat with Bobby at his kitchen table, Sam having gone out to produce some documents. “Now, I’ve made some calls to a couple of friends in the area. Dean, Jake has a job ready for you in his shop Monday morning. Y/N, I’ve got something lined up for you at the County Library. Here are the keys to the safe house. My cleaning lady should have it ready to go for you by the time you get there and the cupboards should be stocked.”

“Bobby, I don’t like this,” Dean shook his head. “We have no idea what is going on here.”

“Your brother and I aren’t going to let anything happen to you idjits. I got too much time and energy invested in ya to just let you vanish,” Bobby groaned. “Now, there’s one more thing. Two really. Here.” He handed Dean a small box.

Dean lifted the hinged lid, finding two gold rings inside. The pit in his stomach expanded, knowing these rings belonged to Bobby and his wife Karen, whom he had to kill when she became possessed by a demon. The old man never fully recovered from that. “Bobby…”

“This ain’t no time for sentiments, kid. Just take em, okay,” Bobby stomped heavily from the room, the screen door slamming behind him, making Y/N jump from the sound.

“I guess here goes nothing. Mrs. Winchester?” Dean took out the smaller ring and held it up for Y/N to put her hand out. The ring slid easily onto the fourth finger of her left hand. Dean slid Bobby’s ring onto his own finger. It felt heavy on his hand, or maybe it was just heavy on his mind.

Sam returned a few minutes later with the papers they needed, along with new identification cards. “Here are your clean ID’s and marriage certificate. The house is listed in Bobby’s corporation, so that is not a problem. He also set up a joint bank account in both your names, well, new names. This is your proof of insurance and Y/N, there will be a vehicle parked at the house for you. A very unassuming Honda Civic.”

“A foreign car, Sam! Really?!” Dean protested.

“Actually, Honda manufactures models right here in the U.S., Dean,” Sam informed his brother.

“No way my real wife would drive a Japanese car,” Dean mumbled as he looked over the rest of the documents. “Wait...our new last name is Hetfield? Awww Sammy, it makes me all tingly when you remember the little shit.”

“Shut up Dean,” Sam said, turning to Y/N and handing her all the documents. “Safe travels. We’ll be in touch.”

~*~

“Jesus, I have driven a lot of miles over the years, but this is boring as fuck. There is literally nothing but farmland.” Dean pointed out for probably the tenth time in the last two hours. Y/N thanked her lucky stars that they were almost there.

Albert Lea, Minnesota was less than a three hour drive from Bobby’s place. It was close enough that he and Sam could get there quickly if she and Dean needed back up. With any luck, they would figure out what they were dealing with, and they wouldn’t be here long. On the other hand, six months of normal sounded like heaven to Y/N right now after the last few years.

She turned on her GPS as they entered town, programming the address Sam had given her. Within minutes, they pulled up to a quaint, craftsman style home with a long driveway and impeccable landscaping. Dean pulled into the driveway, cutting Baby’s engine.

“Did you know Bobby owned this place?” Dean looked at Y/N.

“I knew he had a couple of safe houses, but I thought they were all like Rufus’ hunting cabin. Not this. This is going to be like living in the lap of luxury compared to the motels we’ve slummed it in,” she chuckled softly, opening her door and getting out of the car.

Dean followed quickly, opening the trunk to grab their bags. “Motels? Shit, this place is even nicer than Bobby’s. I bet we won’t even need tetanus shots from walking around the yard barefoot!” He laughed, slamming Baby’s trunk shut.

They carried in their bags, not having much from living a life on the road, and walked up the front steps to the door. “Mrs. Hetfield, do you have the key?”

“Why yes, Mr. Hetfield. Allow me to do the honors,” Y/N smiled as she took the key and unlocked the door. Dean dropped his bags and scooped her up in his arms, despite her protests. He walked through the door and set her down on a comfortable looking recliner. “Dean!”

“It’s tradition to carry your bride across the threshold!” He told her, grabbing their bags from the front porch.

They took their time exploring the home. There were three bedrooms upstairs with one full bathroom. The updated kitchen had a small island and new appliances. The basement was fully finished with two small bedrooms and another full bathroom. Y/N grabbed two beers from the fully stocked fridge, as promised, and met Dean in the backyard. There was a two car garage, housing one newer model Civic and a large assortment of tools. It had everything Dean would need to maintain both cars. There was also a small shed in the corner of the yard which contained a lawn mower and a variety of garden tools and supplies.

“Wow, Bobby really set us up, huh?” Y/N turned to Dean as they sat on the double swing on the back patio. It was was a beautiful home and yard. Y/N looked forward to working in the garden, making a mental note to grab some books on the subject.

“Yeah, he did,” Dean sighed heavily, finishing off his beer. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

“Okay. I’m going to run into town and pick up some clothes for work. Do you need anything?” Y/N asked, taking his empty bottle.

“No, I think I’m good. Thanks,” Dean declined, holding the door open for her.

Y/N couldn’t help but see Dean was hiding something, and she knew him well enough by now to see the subtle differences. She decided to let it go for now. It had already been a long day with having this situation thrown at them and the drive. It would take some adjusting on both their parts. She set out in her car, exploring the town a little, finding a couple of diners, coffee shops and a thrift store. She picked out a few new things for Dean as well as a new work wardrobe for herself. Making a quick stop at the butcher shop, she picked up a couple of steaks as well as stuffed burgers, wanting to do something nice for Dean, and well, the man appreciated red meat.

Y/N let the steaks sit out while she started a load of laundry. Dean ambled into the kitchen just as she was putting together a quick salad, the potatoes baking in the oven. “Hey. Thought we could grill, I picked up a couple of Porterhouses.”

“That sounds great. I’ll go get it ready,” Dean acknowledged and slipped out the back door. A few minutes later, she followed, carrying the steaks and a couple of beers, handing one off to him.

“I know we got a lot thrown at us today, but we’re going to get to the bottom of this, Dean,” she tried to reassure him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I promise.”

“We never go into a hunt blind, Y/N. I don’t care if we have six fucking months or not, this ain’t right, and they both know it, too!” Dean snapped and immediately regretted his words, seeing the look on her face. “Hey, I’m sorry. I know you’re stuck in this, too.”

“It’s okay. We’ll get through this together, Dean. It’s what couples do,” she stated, like it was the most simple thing in the world.

“But we’re not a real couple, Y/N. I’ve never been in a real relationship before, not really, and never like this. This apple pie life we’re supposed to live? We’re used to living a lie on the job, but long term? I don’t know.” Dean sighed heavily, turning the steaks on the grill. “I just don’t know.”

Once dinner was ready, they ate in an uncomfortable silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Y/N thinking of ways to help Dean see the positives and Dean working the case in his head, running through the list of monsters he knew and which one could be responsible for the married couples’ disappearances.

Monday arrived quickly, Dean taking off early for his new job at the garage, leaving without so much as a goodbye. Y/N felt her heart continue to sink, and it was only the third day. She readied for work and packed lunches for both of them. She had enough time to swing by the shop on her way to the library.

Y/N pulled up to the garage and stepped out of her car. She walked across the small lot and inside the lobby.

“Good morning, Miss. What can we help you with today?” An older gentleman, about Bobby’s age, greeted her. He was wearing grease covered overalls and a smile on his face.

“I’m Y/N, here to see Dean W-Hetfield please,” she caught herself, covering her slip with a cough.

“Are you the missus? You’re a pretty lady. Dean really out punted his coverage with you, didn’t he?” the old man chuckled, adding a wink. “I’m Jake. Pleased to meet ya.”

“Yeah, I guess he did,” she laughed along with him, knowing Jake already knew their secret and had given Dean this job as cover.

“Hetfield! Yer lady’s here!” He yelled through the door to the service bays.

Dean walked in a few moments later, wiping his hands on a dirty rag. She had seen him work on Baby, and numerous cars in Bobby’s yard, but seeing him now, shed a whole new light on him. This Dean, the one she was fake married to. The one that lived a normal life with a normal job and a wife and a house. She pushed down the simmer in her belly and walked up to her ‘husband,’

“You forgot your lunch, babe,” she smiled, handing him a brown paper bag.

Dean opened the bag, seeing two turkey and bacon sandwiches, chips, an apple and a can of Coke. “Thanks, honey. I guess I was preoccupied.”

“Have a good day. I’ll see you tonight,” she stepped closer and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. She waved at both of them, exiting the shop. “Nice to meet you, Jake!”

And thus began the routine of her bringing Dean lunch at the shop every morning on her way to work. By the fourth day, she invited Jake over for dinner that weekend. She hoped it might put Dean at ease, having someone on their side locally that knew their real story and he didn’t have to fake it around Jake because of the others in the garage.

Saturday morning rolled around and Y/N had done her shopping, picked up the house and made a pie while Dean mowed the lawn and slow smoked a brisket on the grill. She was settling into their new life fairly well but Dean was having trouble adjusting. He came home late most nights and ate his dinner standing up at the small island.

She didn’t know where he was when he didn’t come home straight away, but the smell of stale smoke mingled with his own scent of coffee, leather and motor oil. At least it wasn’t cheap perfume, she thought. At least this Dean, her fake husband, was faithful to her.

The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean @dolphincliffs @mrswhozeewhatsis @meganwinchester1999 @cherrycokegirls1 @closetspngirl  @roxyspearing @flamencodiva @blacktithe7 @sis-tafics @just-another-busyfangirl @evansrogerskitten @amanda-teaches @hannahindie @wotinspntarnation @winchesterprincessbride @winecatsandpizza @kickingitwithkirk  @wi-deangirl77 @hobby27 @mogaruke​ @gh0stgurl​ @paintrider13-blog​ @hunterscabin @alleiradayne​ @idreamofplaid @squirrelnotsam

The Dean’s List: @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @dean-winchesters-bacon @maddiepants @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @supernatural-jackles @docharleythegeekqueen @adoptdontshoppets @mtngirlforever

[1000roughdrafts]

Family Secrets: Chapter Fourteen

Town That Never Stops Smiling 

Summary: Being transported to Teraw leaves you tired and confused, but the path to the truth is a long and needy road. 

Warnings: slight angst, slightly OOC Dean 

W/C: 3.2k

Masterlist/schedule

The four of you walk in silence through the field and onto a dirt road. Walking towards the bridge, you peer over at the glistening water underneath it. Dean squints at her, shaking his head, "all right. So where we headin'? Motel? Get some grub?"

Allanah giggles, "no. Here, there are no hotels, as they have no need for them. No one is allowed to travel between the regions without a request from the Head of the Region. From there, the Head provides them with a place to stay, whether that be in his or her own quarters, or at a volunteers. On the topic, we need to be careful about how we interact with the people and places here. It's big enough that we won't be noticed right away, but if we stay in one place too long there are going to be issues," Allanah says while you make your way to the start of the bridge.

"Uh, so what happens if we do get caught?" Sam asks in a whisper, looking around at the decaying bridge and trees that surround it.

As sweet as can be, Allanah smiles, "think American TSA meets intense CIA interrogations," she smirks. "In other words, let's just not get caught." Dean frowns which puts her attention onto him, "you're going to struggle with this the most, Dean, I can already feel it. But Y/N, you've felt it deep down, haven't you? A mother's love is not to be taken lightly, even beyond death."

You keep quiet, peaking over at Dean. He holds contempt in his face, trapped behind that stoic expression but easy to see the swirl of emotion in his eyes. He wants to scream out and ask questions, but what could he say? He has children, or at least a past version of him did and he knows nothing of it, but Y/N does? 

Luna - June 26, 2068

Teraw - Region 3

Complete darkness goes so well with shattering silence. I have known nothing other than the darkness and cherish the quiet. The only thing I hate about the silence is that it traps me in a world of uncertainty. With nothing to grip onto, I succumb to the thoughts raging in my mind like an ocean under a full moon; but it is a beautiful thing.

Just as I am trapped in my mind I am trapped in my body. No movement in my arms, torso, hands, legs, feet or face. I can not open my eyes, nor can I move my lips. Absolutely nothing works anymore. Well, almost nothing. Miraculously my ears can hear anything from a train passing by to a mouse three stories down.

I am surrounded by so much noise in the day that I look forward to the treacherous words my mind whispers to me as I lay to sleep. I rely on my ears so much these days, as it's the only sense I've got left. There's this single sound I hear more than anything. It has a set pace, just as a metronome would tick along to keep the beat of a song. Beep. Beep. Beep. I don't live like many others, they say I'm lucky to be alive at all.

I hear my family as they trickle in, their footsteps are quick and loud. It breaks my concentration on the ticking. The stepping stops, I hear sniffling, deep breaths and then suddenly, "Luna, it's your mama. Can you hear me?" Yes, I hear you. I want to say it. 

"I should start at the beginning," Allanah sighs, slowing her walk to a gentle stroll. "The two of you, Shirley and Bill you used to be called," she laughs lightly. "You enlisted me as a," she motions her hand around, scrunching her face, "guardian of sorts for your five children, quintuplets," she laughs again. "Wren, Ana, Tullie, Aidan and Luna." 

You and Dean lock eyes, "Luna?" he says, pointing at you, "the girl that's-" 

"Indeed," Allanah lets out a long breath, watching the ground somberly. "It's very sad what has happened to her," she says. "There's evil in this realm that neither of you could predict. It's what sent me back to Earth, locked me out. It wasn't until after I'd ended things with Crowley and found Y/N that I remembered who I truly was and what you created me to be. I needed to do something, anything, to bring the two of you back to this realm to fix what had been broken." 

Coming to a stop at the start of the bridge, Allanah looks into her hands, "your children, they," looking back up between you and Dean. "They are very powerful, yet they don't know it. Not anymore, at least." 

"What do you mean?" Sam tilts his head. 

"Each of them possess qualities and powers of an element specific to Earth. When Bill and Shirley created this realm, you split the children up into regions. This was done to protect them, or so you said. Teraw was specific to Luna, but with you two gone and evil sneaking in, the regions had grown a mind of their own," she lowers her voice, "it's gotten out of control. Ana was born in Inequescent, but with the latest reincarnation, the family Ana was brought into grew tired and she was adopted by a family here in Teraw. What I know to be happening soon is that because of Luna's sickness, Tullie will be requested to come help her. Horrible things are in store for the regions, unless we can stop it.”  

"Like what?" Dean asks. 

"This evil... it wishes to gain control of the other regions. After that, other dimensions... like Earth." 

Tullie - June 6, 2068 Hemort - Region 4

A day off is a luxury when one has specialized skills in the medical profession, at least for those in Hemort. I usually try to wind down and relax on those two short days, or tune into my favorite channel to watch some gushy movies about how everything always works out in the end, and everyone is just so nice. They make me sick, and yet I can't bring myself to watch anything else. In my day to day life, I don't always get to see the happy endings. Moreso, with my line of work, I see death more than any sane person should. And that begs the question; am I really as sane as I believe myself to be? 

I admire the house on the screen and the characters who live in it, wondering what it would be like to have a big house with a yard and a cute dog who gets to enjoy it. There's not much of that here, only the Elite live on large plots of land. Instead, I rent this quaint apartment with the ceiling to wall windows I'd dreamt of having since I was young. When the new owner bought the complex, she planted the most beautiful garden and elegant, tall trees on either side of the building, which is better than the concrete nothingness that resided there before.

Pausing the movie, I unravel myself from underneath the blankets to make some tea, although I'd never be able to make it as calming and tasty as my mother had. The storm doesn't help to calm me either, with the trees rattling against the windows and begging to come inside. While waiting for the kettle to boil, I close the blinds and play the movie. I could stand to miss a little of it if it means I don't have to listen to that screaming sound the wind makes.

While adding honey to the mug in preparation, my phone rings. I'm not expecting a call, so I don't scatter to answer it. I pull the kettle and turn down the dial on the stove before going back to the couch to rummage through knitted blankets for my cell. 

"Hello," I say, putting the phone between my ear and shoulder as I make my way back to my tea. 

"Hi, Tullie," the voice says, calmly and sweetly. I spill boiling water onto my hands at the surprise, and curse myself for not checking the caller ID. How dare he call me at this hour. 

"What do you want, Dan?" 

After a heartbreaking pause, he speaks out, "this is not a personal call, okay? I don't care how you're doing. I don't want to know what you're doing. I don't even care if you're hiding from the storm in a cup of tea right now,  or watching those stupid puke inducing movies, I-" I hear him sigh, "this is about the hospital," he says swiftly. 

"Mine or yours?" 

"Why would I be calling about yours? Listen, I have my hands tied on a case over here. I could really use your help. No one has a clue on what to do. They put me on this, but," he pauses and his voice shifts down a tone, "I'm really in over my head." 

"How does no one there know what to do? Your hospital is the best out of all five districts." 

"This case is really strange, Tu-" 

"Don't," I sharply cut him off and take the phone in my hand before he can finish my name. "Please, don't call me that. It's Doctor Marion." 

There is a silence between us as I make my way back to the couch, gripping my mug with both hands and the phone resting back on my shoulder. 

"You know I wouldn't be calling you if I wasn't out of options, but this girl," he sighs. "She's been out for three weeks. There is nothing in her medical history that would help to explain her state. Her parents have no idea what happened, they said they just found her like this." 

"Okay, so assuming it's a coma," I say, mostly thinking out loud. Then back to him, I condescend, "are you sure it's not locked-in state? Er, what about psychogenic unresponsiveness?" 

"Of course, what do you take me for?" he says in a short, agitated breath. "Look, it's absolutely a coma with no explainable source. We've taken MRI's and Cat Scans and still can not locate the site of her brain that's causing it." 

"Were there drugs involved?" 

"No, we did blood work after taken her vitals. No drugs in her system, vitamin levels are all normal and we've been monitoring her brain waves while she's been here. It's like she went to sleep one night and just... didn't wake up." 

"It sounds like you've done everything I would have, so why are you calling me?" 

"Tu - Doctor Marion, I know you-" 

"No, you knew me," I softly yell, foolishly pointing a finger in the air as if he were in front of me. Quieter now, I keep a harsh tongue, "I'm not the same person I was then, you played a huge role in that. I changed myself for the better. I never wanted to hear from you again. The last thing I need is to be reminded..." I trail off before the tear in my eye can drop and listen to the actors giggling on the television. 

"Reminded of what?" Dan asks, in that same torturous way he'd always comforted me in the past. 

"It doesn't matter. I'm going to bed. You'll get an answer tomorrow." Forgetting the tea, I barricade myself in blankets and cry myself to sleep. 

As you walk along the bridge, Allanah continues, “for the first long while that I was here, things were fine. The churches were full, as were the pubs and shops. That’s the way many enjoyed it for a great while, but when those who opened their eyes fought back?” She sucks in air through her teeth, “well, let’s just say blood was shed, and tears were shared.” 

She moves her hands around and slows her steps, “allow me to take this back in time. They followed a set of standards. A hierarchy of social standings and if one was not near the top, they were not worth a loaf. The weight of one’s standing held in community intervention in threefold. It started with the preparation and bringing about of their first church. Many thought that if one was of fellowship they were among deities.” She laughs softly, “as I, the only guardian of this realm, knew there were no deities, just little old me. It was comical. And per the two of you, I was never allowed to step in or intervene.” 

“That’s stupid,” you mutter under your breath, watching your steps along the bridge. 

“Blacksmiths, clergymen, doctors and carpenters were just below, and seen as noble. Those however that farmed land, crops and livestock were seen at the bottom. Along with butchers, dairymaids, tailors, barbers, and the like were noted to be Sepulchers. It’s worth noting, that this system was not one that you two brought in place.” 

“Sepulchers?” Sam twists his face. 

“No one had an inkling as to why, but it was surmised that it was in reference to those folk being just as untitled as the many of the graves placed just outside of this bridge.” 

Dean folds his lips down in a nod, looking around at the piles of dirt outside of the river and under the bridge. 

“After segregating with an older congregating with an older woman who called herself Minerva, it was she that determined there was power in numbers. There were more of them than there were in the fellowship and just as one might catch a second wind, they found their strength. It started at first with the announcement. The Town Crier, also among the Sepulchers, had begun his course into the Town Whisperer, and could be found in the benighted area, or circumferential. They conspired many gatherings and prepared for battle, if need be so. The churches grew ever suspicious as their totality grew by the day. Minerva conducted the rough fifty to leave their work for another day,” she sighs, “and then another. This war lasted for years, reaching all five regions and the only thing that I could do was try and protect your children, and carry them through their reincarnations. I had made many, many attempts to reach out to the two of you and all had fallen short.” 

She focuses on the boards of the bridge and the squeaking they make as you walk over them, “a man by the name of Henry took to ending the war, and was appointed the Head of Teraw for his efforts. This man’s son is now the Head and Luna’s father in this realm. I wasn’t here to place them into the proper families,” she sighs, “and now I worry he’s stirring up trouble.”

Ana - June 6, 2068

Teraw - Region 3 

These briefings make me feel less of who I want to be. I understand the importance of putting together the minds of professional colleagues to come to a conclusion on how to move forward with whatever case we happen to be discussing. However, as someone who works in healthcare, forgive me for stating that I find them to be quite menial. It's usually the same act every day; Dan will turn up late, I drum my fingers on the table, Mary doesn't say a damn word and Nathan does most, if not all, of the talking. 

I'm mid-yawn through one of Nathan's monologues as a pink-haired woman wearing sweatpants, a tank top and a light cardigan walks in. I can only assume she is lost with the confusion draped on her face, so I stand to redirect her. Nathan, the natural born leader that he is, smiles and holds a hand out to her. 

"You must be Doctor Marion. I'm Chief Nathan Scott. Dean speaks very highly of you." Her confusion is overtaken by a smile as she accepts the greeting, "I understand your decision to be here was quite rash, so we'll excuse the lapse in dress code this one time," he jokes. 

I mask a chuckle by returning to my seat and shuffling through my papers. He pulls out his pocket watch and just barely inspects it before looking back up at her. With a careless wave of his hands and a slight shrug he says, "Dan should be arriving soon. If you know him like we do, you would know he's late to everything." 

She laughs softly, looking at her feet. "Go ahead and take a seat right there, next to Ana." He gestures over to me and smiles. I do not. "She doesn't bite, I promise." I might. 

"Enough," Nathan says as if he's heard one too many of Dan's jokes. Then again, we all certainly have. Dan glides across the room, briefcase in tow, and plops into the chair next to Mary. "First of all," Nathan goes on, sitting at the head of the table. He pulls a stack of papers from his own briefcase and shifts to Doctor Marion. "I need you to look over and sign these before we can proceed, for patient privacy and all that." 

"I understand," she squeaks out and inches her chair close to the table. She smiles when she's finished and pushes the papers back to Nathan, who inspects them thoroughly before carrying on with his speech. 

"Now, miss Luna's case is of high priority and exceptionally confidential." He classically folds his hands together and leans slightly into the table, facing me and the new doctor. "You see, her parents are what makes this town what it is." 

"And what is that, exactly?" 

"Powerful," I scoff. 

Approaching the end of the bridge, Dean grips onto your arm, pulling you to face him. “I want to know what’s going on. Damn it, Y/N, we haven’t talked in... ten months, and - and now we’re in an alternate dimension where apparently our kids live, and...” he flops his hands down at his sides, looking around before taking a step closer to you, holding up a finger, “and you knew about them?” 

“No,” you sigh, “I only had a feeling about it, I - I didn’t know for sure. I don’t even know how to explain it, it was just this gut feeling...” you trail off, not really understanding the whole thing yourself. 

Dean rolls his eyes, so you push on, “look, Dean, I’m sorry that you got dragged into this, but-” you take a deep breath, forcefully letting it out. He turns his eyebrows down, crossing his arms. “I don’t know what else to tell you,” you breathe. “What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry? That I never should have left? That I wish none of this was happening in the first place?” 

He continues to glare, and you take one small step towards him, your bodies merely inches from each other. 

“You never should have left, Y/N,” he scowls. “We were heading here from the beginning, Y/N. The only freaking difference is that we spent ten months apart from each other,” he says, voice crawling back into animosity. “I don’t know if I can trust anything you say to me now.” 

You drop your voice to a whisper, “I am sorry, Dean, for everything. I’m sorry that I left, again, but we - I can’t change any of that now, so we just gotta get through this, and when we get back home... if we get back home, we can go our separate ways if that’s what you want.” 

After a long pause, his face softens slightly, “no,” he says. Clearing his throat, his eyes move around your face, “no, Y/N. That’s the opposite of what I want. I want you. Even through all the shit we went through, I was happy with you. Why can’t you see that?” 

Next Chapter 

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[raywritesthings]

The Shower Slip

My Writing Fandom: Harry Potter Characters: Peter Pettigrew, Arthur Weasley, Sirius Black, Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley, Albus Dumbledore, Molly Weasley, Amos Diggory, Remus Lupin, Minerva McGonagall, Petunia Dursley, Kreacher Pairing: Arthur Weasley/Molly Weasley Summary: In a version of events where Peter Pettigrew pays a little more care to his personal hygiene, everything changes. *Can also be read on my AO3 or FFN*

For the longest time, Peter tried to do everything right. Right as regarded a man in hiding and fearing for his life, that was.

He had traveled far from the scene of his crimes — known to the public as Sirius’ crimes — never daring to change back to human form. He had worried over the wound where his toe, or rather finger, had once been. Oh, how it had hurt! And he had checked it constantly for any sign of infection. He had been halfway to Devon before realizing that he had somehow lost track of his wand in all the trouble. It had been a blow, but he’d have been mad to try and go back for it.

It had all worked out in the end, of course. He’d found himself wandering along the edge of the Weasleys’ property, knowing that there were a few different Wizarding families in the area to choose from. It had been his luck he had come upon the Weasleys first; the family was poor and had taken him in as a free pet for one of their boys.

He was happy with the arrangement. At the Burrow, he had learned what had become of his one-time friend along with all the speculation going on about what must have happened to his Master. Peter still did not understand how it had all gone so wrong all because of one little baby. But no matter. Sirius was locked away in Azkaban where he could never get to Peter, none of his Master's followers knew how to find him to exact any of their own revenge, and Peter had a roof over his head and as much food as he could ask for.

Percy, the Weasley he had been given to, was easy enough to get along with. The boy was quiet and organized unlike most of his family. He had gotten a cage for Scabbers, as Peter had been newly named, and he let his rat out during the hours he spent reading and studying in his room. The rest of the time Peter was allowed to simply sleep. It was an arrangement that suited him well.

Except for a few missing creature comforts, which he had always tried to ignore. A primary one being personal grooming and hygiene. Percy had tried to bathe Scabbers once or twice, but Peter had always run away and found small nooks and crannies to hide away in until the boy gave up. He had submitted to various indignities as a pet — most memorable being when the twins two years younger than Percy had forced him into some of their little sister’s old baby clothes and used him for the Christmas tree topper — but he wasn’t about to be washed by another person. He had taken to going for very short swims in the little pond near the edge of the property in the summer months and simply living with the stink in the winter.

But then Percy had taken Peter with him to Hogwarts the past year, and Peter had found the arrangement to be all the better. The first year boys were often out of the dorm to attend classes, mealtimes or work on their assignments. That left Peter with plenty of time to luxuriate in a real shower for the first time in over five years.

He had gotten used to the indulgence during his stay at Hogwarts, and now that he was back at the Burrow, Peter found himself unwilling to give it up. The trick was finding the time to himself when the Burrow was normally overrun with redheads.

The children were all growing more active now. They either flew around in the paddock or went to see friends. As long as he timed it right for when the mother — Molly, he thought the Prewett twins had said so many years ago — was either out tending to the garden or doing the shopping, he was in the clear. Even if the ghoul in the attic banged around on the pipes at times, he wasn’t about to chance her believing the thing to be running the shower.

And so the summer went on, and Peter believed himself to still be safe. He even imagined himself quite clever, though perhaps that was his true mistake.

He had never been the clever one.

—-

It took Arthur some time to come around to the idea, and even when he did it just didn’t sit right. Perhaps if they could have afforded self-cleaning pipes, he would never have had to consider it at all.

Early in their marriage, it had been decided that Arthur was in charge of making sure the pipes did not become clogged. One such area of particular interest was the shower drain; with nine people using it, it accumulated a lot of hair over a short amount of time, especially as the boys grew older. So Arthur made it a weekly habit to clean out the drain.

It was near the beginning of that year’s summer holiday that he first began to notice something new and strange whenever he charmed the various detritus out of the pipe. Mixed in with the red of his family was a number of brown hairs. Brown hairs were not something he could account for.

“Have there been any guests over lately that I’ve missed, Weasleys?” Arthur asked at dinner at the end of June.

The children all looked round at each other in confusion. “No, dad,” Bill answered collectively.

“Of course there haven’t been,” said Molly as she set second helpings in front of Charlie and Ron. “And how would you have missed them? You haven’t been working that late, dear.”

“Yes, yes, I know. It’s just the strangest thing.” He shook his head. If none of them had the answer, then he was really lost.

“May I be excused, mum?” Percy asked with prim politeness.

“You haven’t finished your plate, Percy.”

“I was saving it for Scabbers.”

“Oh, well we have plenty left over for Scabbers,” said Molly. “You finish that and I’ll get you something in a napkin for him. Errol might like some, too, come to think of it.” She got up from the table and bustled back over to the kitchen. “He’s getting up there, and I don’t know that he’ll be able to hunt for himself much longer.”

“Yes, you’re probably right about that,” Arthur agreed. “Still, he can carry the mail just as fine as any owl.”

The twins snickered where they sat, but he was distracted by Ginny leaving her seat to climb into his lap. “Daddy?”

“Yes, dear?”

“What’s the strangest thing?”

“Oh nothing, Ginny. Nothing to worry about. Now you should finish your dinner.” And he kissed her on the head.

He wished he could take his own advice, but Arthur did continue to worry about it as June turned into July and the hairs kept popping up. “I just don’t understand. If Molly and the children don’t know where it’s coming from, and I don’t know, then how can they be there?” He asked Perkins one morning as they completed some paperwork about a wizard in Hyde Park who’d been charming the benches to skitter about on their legs whenever no one was looking.

“You consider you might be being lied to, Arthur?”

“Why would the children lie about it?” He’d never given them cause to believe they couldn’t have friends over.

“I didn’t mean the children,” said Perkins before giving a great big cough. He’d been doing that a lot lately.

Arthur blinked in shock. “You don’t mean — Merlin, Perkins, Molly would never!”

“Well, how else do you explain the hairs?”

“I— there’s got to be— look you don’t understand.” Arthur felt nearly beside himself. “She’s Molly!”

Perkins shrugged but got on with his work, clearly deciding Arthur could live in denial all he wanted. But he wasn’t in denial. Molly loved him. They had seven children together, they’d grieved the loss of her brothers together. It wasn’t even a question of how could she ever, but why?

Was she upset with him? Did she resent the fact that he hadn’t gotten promoted past Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office? Did she want him to get rid of the shed? She’d said as much so many times, but he’d always taken that to be her usual scolding, not a genuine hatred of it. Of him.

He lay awake in bed for a solid week next to a snoring Molly, the idea turning itself over in his mind in a way that made him feel quite sick. Did his Mollywobbles really not love him anymore?

The next week the brown hair was still in the shower drain, and Arthur knew he could sit on this no longer. He would have to act. The trouble was Molly would never admit it if it were true. Arthur would have to catch her with this brown-haired fellow, much as even imagining it roiled his stomach.

He arranged for Auntie Muriel to take the children for a day, not wanting them to be there for this — how had Molly even snuck some stranger past all of them? — and a part of him dreaded having to explain to them after. How was he going to manage on his own? Molly was the bedrock of this family. Perhaps it’d be better if he just pretended he hadn’t noticed. But no, it was too late for that. He was no coward.

Arthur had also taken the day off work, though he hadn’t told Molly this. She believed the children were being taken off her hands in order to give her a relaxing day, and she’d happily chattered to him about everything she was planning to get done around the house while they were all out. She kissed him on the cheek as if nothing were amiss when he left to take the children over to Muriel’s through the Floo.

Rather than head to work from there, he stayed and talked to Muriel for over an hour, which caused Bill to remind him of the time.

“Oh yes. Ah, but funny that, I’ve forgotten my lunch. I’ll just pop back home first.” He checked his gold watch. If Molly were going to be having some strange wizard over, he’d have to be there by now. Hopefully she’d been too busy to notice his hand on the clock hadn’t changed to ‘work’, though thinking of what she might be busy doing caused the tips of his ears to burn.

“Weasleys,” he said, eyes growing misty in spite of his best efforts, “be good. I love you all very much.”

“Oh, don’t coddle them,” Auntie Muriel said dismissively while Bill and Charlie frowned at each other.

“We love you, too, Daddy!” Ginny declared from her perch on Bill’s back. Arthur smiled at her, then turned to the Floo before he could burst into tears.

“The Burrow!”

A few short grates later and he was back in his kitchen. Molly was nowhere to be seen, though her hand pointed to ‘home’. So she was upstairs, was she?

He heard movement on the third floor. Dear Merlin, they were using one of the children’s rooms? He took the steps two at a time, careful to avoid the squeakiest ones.

As he approached the landing that held the twins’ bedroom, he heard Celestina Warbeck on the Wireless, Molly humming along. Arthur hesitated with his hand on the knob, then threw the door open.

“Caught you!”

Molly screamed as the mattress George slept on flopped to the ground, her spell losing its concentration. “Arthur! What are you doing here?”

She was standing there alone, fully dressed. Arthur stood there gaping a full minute.

“But, I thought—”

“Thought what?” She asked, one hand going to her hip. “And what did you mean, ‘caught you’?”

He was beginning to sweat now, but Arthur didn’t see why he should be made any more a fool of. “Look, Molly, I know what’s been going on, so let’s just drop the act.”

“What act?”

“The act where you pretend some- some scoundrel hasn’t been over here to see you and showering before he leaves, leaving his hairs in the drain—”

“How dare you!” Molly had gone beet red as the shock wore off. “You think I would — while the children—”

“Well they’re not here now, are they?” Arthur shouted, his anger keeping him from quailing in the face of Molly’s indignation. “So where is he? He’s clearly been here!” He swept a hand to George’s still unmade bed.

“I was changing the sheets!”

“Have it your way, then. Homenum Revelio!” Arthur cried as he brandished his wand. It heated up in his hand as he pointed it towards Molly, then again as he was instinctively guided to point it towards the floor. 

“That- that’s not possible,” said Molly, her anger dying in the face of the evidence.

“Oh, it’s not? We’ll see about that!” He left the room and raced back downstairs. He’d have to catch the bloody cheat before he made it to the Floo — but then his wand heated up again and pointed towards Percy’s door on the second landing. He flung that open, too. “Ha!”

There was no one inside. What was the trick? A Disillusionment Charm? A rudimentary invisibility cloak? “Alright, just come out. I won’t curse you,” he promised, even if it was a tenuous promise at best.

“Arthur, be careful!” Molly called as she came down the steps as well.

He couldn’t decide what was worse, that she still cared or that he was being forced to play hide and seek with the man she’d cheated on him with? The spell was still supposedly working; it kept heating up as he passed it over Percy’s perfectly-made bed. Arthur bent down and looked underneath it, but no one was hiding there and his wand went cold.

“Homenum revelio!” He tried again, and watched with some puzzlement as his wand arm stretched out towards Percy’s bedside table where Scabbers sat in his cage, squeaking at Arthur.

“That can’t be right…” But he had done the spell correctly, he knew it! It was one he often had to use to make sure there weren’t any Muggles about before he set to work undoing enchantments on objects.

“Well? Have you proven I’m some scarlet woman yet?” Molly demanded, breathing in and out through her nose like Charlie’s old stuffed toy dragon.

“Er, that’s the thing. It’s reading Scabbers as a human,” he admitted with a nervous laugh.

“I see. Well, that must be it, mustn’t it?”

“Molly—”

Yet they were both distracted as, with a crash, Scabbers’ cage fell to the floor, the door popping open on impact. With a squeal, the rat made a run for the door.

“Oh!” Molly cried.

“Accio!” Arthur shouted, summoning the rat into his other hand. It wouldn’t do for Percy to lose it on top of everything else. “Here now, Scabbers, I’m sure we can come to some arrangement,” he attempted to joke weakly. He was rewarded with a bite on his finger. “Argh!”

“In his cage, Arthur!” Molly took her own wand from her apron and banished the rat inside the cage, spelling it locked as well. Scabbers began frantically scratching at the sides and the bars.

“I don’t understand. It’s like he knows what we’re talking about,” said Arthur. He tried the human revealing spell again with the same result. Something was not right.

“I need Amos,” he decided, heading down to their fireplace. Arthur lit it and threw a pinch of Floo powder in before kneeling on the hearth and declaring, “Diggory’s Den!”

His head spun for a time before he blinked his eyes open onto a view of the Diggorys’ sitting room.

“Amos?”

A few minutes later, his friend and neighbor came into the room. He’d mentioned to Arthur last week that he’d taken the day off for his son Cedric’s birthday, and while Arthur hated to intrude, this was more Amos’ purview than his.

“Arthur! Sending your well wishes to my boy?”

“I’m afraid that’s not why I’m calling, Amos. I’ve got a bit of a problem with a family pet. Percy’s rat, Scabbers. We thought he was a regular garden rat, but there seems to be something, er, strange about him. I’d appreciate if you could come over and have a look.”

“Just a garden rat, you say? Alright, it should only take a few minutes.” Amos went to a hall closet. “I’ll be right through, Arthur.”

“Thank you, Amos.” He ended the call and sat back. As he clambered to his feet, he noticed Molly standing in the kitchen archway with Scabbers’ cage.

“Amos is coming over.”

She nodded, then asked stiffly, “How’s your hand?”

He looked down at it. The bite was bleeding a little, still, but the pain had mostly receded. “I think I’ll pull through. Er, Molly—”

But the fireplace flared green and Amos walked out. “Now then, where is the little rat? Oh, afternoon, Molly.”

“Afternoon, Amos,” she replied with half of her usual warm smile. She set the cage down on the table where it trembled.

“Nervous fellow, is he? What was the problem, Arthur?”

“Well you see, we— er, I thought there was someone in the house, so I did the revealing spell and it led me to Scabbers. I’ve renewed it twice now, and it keeps directing to him.”

“Hm. Well, I’ll give it a go, then, shall I? Homenum Revelio!” Just as before, Amos’ wand pointed straight to Scabbers. He frowned. “The children out?”

“Yes,” Molly answered. “Why?”

“Because if this is what I’m thinking, it may come as a shock. One moment.” He waved his wand and the trembling of the cage stopped. “I’ve put him to sleep,” Amos explained. “Now comes the tricky part.”

He opened the cage and set the unconscious Scabbers down onto the floor. Then he pointed his wand, emitting a blue light that hit Scabbers where he lay. As sweat beaded on Amos’ brow, the rat began to change.

It was a slow process, but first he became bigger, his long nose shrinking back as a human head sprouted; limbs followed; the fur melted away to reveal human hands and skin. When it had finished, a fully-grown man lay where Scabbers had been.

“What?” Molly asked hoarsely.

“It’s like I thought,” Amos said with clear disgust. “Animagus. How long has he been here, Arthur?”

“Seven- seven years,” Arthur answered, his voice faint to his own ears.

“He was a person?” Molly asked, looking rapidly from Arthur to Amos.

“Yes, though I’m not sure who. Looks a bit familiar, but I can’t place it.” Amos crouched down and tried summoning any personal effects, though it appeared the unknown wizard had none. With a jolt, Arthur noticed that, just as Scabbers had been missing a toe, so too was this man missing a finger.

His hair was indeed brown, though, so at least that explained that. A wave of both relief and shame washed over him as he realized his wife had truly been innocent.

Before he could vocalize his apology, however, Amos swore under his breath. “Look at his left arm.”

His neighbor had pulled up the somewhat tattered sleeve of the man’s worn robes to reveal a very faded tattoo of a very familiar mark. Arthur went pale as Molly gasped beside him.

“He’s a Death Eater?” His wife cried.

His relief was now swamped by fear as well. A Death Eater had been living amongst them, eating their food and playing with their children. Why?

“Amos, watch him. I’m calling the Aurors,” Arthur decided. He paused for a moment to grip Molly by the arms, for she looked unsteady on her feet. “Are you alright?”

“I- I don’t— how?”

He kissed her forehead. “We’ll find out, Molly. I swear to you.”

Whatever they discovered, he still had his family. Arthur was just glad they’d caught this dark wizard before one of them had come to serious harm.

Of course, once the man’s identity had been confirmed by the Aurors, they all were thrown for another loop. How could Peter Pettigrew have been an Animagus and a Death Eater, much less alive? And what did that mean about the Dark Lord’s right hand man who currently sat wasting away in Azkaban?

—-

Sirius curled in tighter on himself as a pair of Dementors drifted past his cell. Even as Padfoot, it wasn’t quite enough to chase off the chill that rolled off of them or the voices in his head: It was your plan, Sirius! You’re the reason we’re dead! You deserve to be in here!

At last the Dementors turned a corner and the worst of it faded away into the background. Sirius panted in momentary relief. With effort, for he was very hungry and weak, he shifted back into his human form, collapsing back onto the thin straw mattress he’d been using for the last seven years. Well, it wasn’t quite seven. It was 2,098 days to be exact, provided he hadn’t accidentally missed one. It was possible, but he liked to think himself accurate. Keeping track of the date was just another way to hold onto his sanity.

And today was a special day, a good day. Today was Harry’s eighth birthday. He tried to imagine what his godson might look like now, with James’ messy hair and Lily’s green eyes. The rest of the details were hazy in his mind, but he used those two as focal points whenever he thought of the little boy.

Remus and the others were hopefully spoiling him rotten today. Perhaps he’d be getting his first broom without any of the height or speed limits. A heap of candy from Honeydukes or maybe a special ice cream cone from Fortescue’s. He had no doubts that everyone left in the Order would make sure it was a happy occasion, just as James and Lily would’ve wanted.

Hagrid had never said where Harry was to be taken when he’d been forced to give Harry up that night. He’d ceded to Dumbledore’s wisdom as a hunt for revenge would’ve been no place for the infant, and Harry had had that cut on his forehead. It had still been bleeding when Sirius had gotten there, and he wondered if it had gotten properly treated. With any luck and the skill of Madam Pomphrey, he doubted it had even left a scar.

He wished he could be there so fiercely he thought he could feel a physical ache in his chest. It would be foolish to dwell on happy thoughts for long. It would only cause the Dementors to seize on them and return.

Yet as he lay there, the happy feeling did not fade. In fact it grew stronger just as a bright light swept down the corridor beyond his cell. A bright light that looked an awful lot like a Patronus.

“He’s that one, Professor,” the gruff voice of one of the guards said, and the Patronus stopped outside Sirius’ cell. Now that it was in front of him, he could swear it looked just like Dumbledore’s old phoenix.

His cell door swung open, and Dumbledore himself walked through, heeled boots echoing on the stone. Sirius scrambled to sit up.

“Professor Dumbledore,” he said, his voice hoarse yet still affecting the casual tone he’d been aiming for, as though Dumbledore stopped by all the time rather than this being their first meeting in nearly seven years. “I thought you hated Azkaban.”

“Indeed I do, Sirius. And seeing for myself what Azkaban has done to you, my dislike of it only grows.” The old wizard bent over and offered him a hand. “We’ve discovered the truth, you dear young man, and I can’t begin to say how sorry I am.”

He stared at the offered hand dumbly. “The truth?”

“Yes. Peter Pettigrew has been found, and his allegiance to Voldemort made clear. He confessed everything under Veritaserum.”

So Peter had survived. His lips pulled back in a snarl. “Where is he?”

Dumbledore simply opted to reach under one of Sirius’ arms and hauled him up to his feet. “Please, Sirius. I understand your anger and grief, as well as the injustice of your situation. But let justice be done now. I should think James and Lily would wish you to be a free man rather than the killer we all wrongly thought you to be.”

James and Lily. Their true betrayer would now be punished. Maybe they could rest easier, wherever death had taken them.

“What happens now?”

“A stay at St. Mungo’s seems to be in order,” his old headmaster replied. He led Sirius down the narrow, twisting hallways, the phoenix patronus lighting the way and holding the Dementors back. They walked out of the prison into the craggy rocks beyond like it was the easiest thing in the world, like they hadn’t just left the last seven years of his life behind.

“Now then, the Ministry was kind enough to allow me to make a Portkey for our purposes.” He selected a rock on the ground and tapped it with his wand. “Portus.” The rock glowed blue for a moment, and Dumbledore held it out towards him. “Quickly now, Sirius.”

“Right.” He struggled to fight past the fog that his mind seemed to still be trapped behind. As soon as he touched the rock, he felt a tug at his navel and the world spun away until his feet hit tile with a slam.

Sirius staggered sideways and hit a wall, retching for several moments though there was nothing in his stomach to be brought back up. It had been so long since he’d experienced Portkey travel, much less gone anywhere.

The air smelled so clean it was sharp. A number of voices assaulted his ears, and he sank towards the ground. Someone pressed a cool cloth to his forehead and combed back his hair from were it had fallen in his face.

“Forgive me, Sirius, I should have realized.”

“S’alright,” He croaked past a raw throat. “Always thought you hated me, anyway, after sixth year…”

“Believe me, you were not the first nor the last to make a rash decision with grave consequences. But rest now. There will be plenty of time to talk.”

He didn’t register sleeping, really, because there were no nightmares. All he knew was that he found himself no longer on the floor, but lying on a cloud. He shifted and there were sheets over his body. Sheets!

Sirius’ head lolled to one side as he noticed someone sitting in a chair beside the bed. Expecting Dumbledore, he was not prepared to see a sandy-haired head going gray propped in someone’s hands.

“...Remus?”

Remus’ head snapped up, meeting his eyes with a mixture of shock, joy and discomfort. “Sirius. I- it’s so good to see you.”

“Now that you know I wasn’t the traitor, you mean. It’s alright,” he said before Remus could do much more than cringe. “I’ve wanted to see you ever since I realized you weren’t the traitor. I should have known better, Remus. Forgive me?”

“Only if you’ll forgive me,” his old friend said. He reached out and clasped Sirius’ hand between his own. “You look terrible.”

“At least I have an excuse. What’s yours?” That got a smile, and Sirius felt his own lips turn up, though the gesture was unfamiliar to him after so long. “Tell me what’s been going on, will you? How’d they find the rat?”

Remus drew in a breath. “It’s a rather long story. It turns out Peter had decided the best thing to do after getting Voldemort killed and you arrested was to lay low for a while while still keeping an ear out, so he set himself up as a pet with a Wizarding family. The Weasleys to be exact.”

“The Weasleys? What happened to them?”

“Nothing, other than them being quite disturbed to learn the rat they had kept for seven years was really a man. I hear the younger ones are taking the excitement quite well, though, all things considered.”

Sirius shook his head. How many Weasleys had there even been last he’d made count? Trust Peter to take advantage of such good people.

“So that’s all he did was hide? He didn’t try to hurt anyone?”

“Not so far as I know. Though he has rather hurt Minister Bagnold’s reputation as well as Barty Crouch’s career. They’ve both been called to resign thanks to bungling this whole case. I can’t believe you were never given a trial,” Remus said as he shook his head. “It would’ve solved the whole thing.”

“It never does well to dwell on what could have been, Remus,” said Dumbledore’s voice in the doorway. His eyes twinkled as he surveyed them both. “It is always best to persevere with what one has. I hope you don’t mind a couple more visitors, Sirius.”

“No, of course not.” He’d been so long without any company that he was quite pleased to see his old Head of House joining them as well. “Hello again, Professor.”

“I should think Minerva would do,” she replied. “And I must say, I was very sorry to learn what had so unjustly happened to you, Sirius. It’s a miracle you seem to be doing as well as you are after that long in Azkaban.”

“Ah, well, I knew I was innocent, and that kept me sane. Along with other tricks.”

“Yes, I wonder if we might see such a trick?” Asked Dumbledore. “Only if you feel able, of course.”

“I had to tell them everything, Padfoot,” Remus said, the old nickname cluing him in. “I suspect that’s part of the reason for Professor McGonagall’s presence here.”

The transfiguration professor pursed her lips. “Well, it’s not everyday you learn three of your former students achieved the Animagus transformation by the age of fifteen. And self-taught at that.”

“James-taught more like. He was the best at transfiguration,” Sirius said wistfully. The others smiled sadly as well, so he worked to get out from under his covers in order to best lighten the mood. A moment later, Padfoot stood on the mattress with a happy bark.

McGonagall clapped her hands together once, her eyes shining. “Very impressive. Quite thin at the moment, of course, but I imagine you’d give Sybil a real fright were you to come across her at the castle.”

“He very well might,” Dumbledore agreed with amusement. Sirius neither knew nor cared who Sybil was, but the thought of leaving St. Mungo’s for Hogwarts or anywhere gave him an idea.

Transforming back, he asked, “Once I’ve been let out of here, how soon until I could see Harry?”

There was total silence as the smiles slipped off Dumbledore’s and McGonagall’s faces while Remus sat up a little straighter in interest.

“I understand he’s probably settled and happy where he is,” Sirius continued haltingly, unsure why McGonagall gave a snort at that. “I only want to check up on him, maybe see if he has any questions for me. I am his godfather, after all, if that wasn’t rescinded.”

“It wasn’t,” Dumbledore responded eventually. “Neither was your wand snapped, and I offered to see it delivered to you.” He withdrew a thin box that he passed to Sirius, who removed his wand from it with trembling hands. A jolt of warmth rushed up his arm and straight to his heart.

It was doused almost immediately when Dumbledore added, “I’m afraid, however, that Harry Potter will not be receiving any Wizarding visitors before he receives his Hogwarts letter.”

“What do you mean?”

“Harry has been placed in the care of his maternal aunt, Petunia Dursley,” Dumbledore explained. “She and her husband have a young boy the same age as Harry.”

“Right.” He vaguely remembered something about that, the same as he vaguely remembered anything about Lily’s sister. He’d never met her, but James had always claimed the woman and her husband were hilarious — though he doubted that was intentional on their part.

“They don’t care for magic,” McGonagall stated, as though she’d been waiting for her chance to do so. Judging by the weary look Dumbledore regarded her with, this was an old conversation.

“When Lily placed herself in front of the Killing Curse for her son, it enacted powerful blood magic. Harry is safest with relatives who share his mother’s blood, which is why he resides with the Dursleys. And I believe it best that he not be bombarded with his fame at such a young age.”

“His fame?”

“Harry survived the Killing Curse. That’s what destroyed Voldemort,” said Remus. “The whole Wizarding world knows that happened, if not how or why it did. He’s easily the most recognizable eight year-old in Wizarding Britain, and no one’s ever seen him.”

This new information about his godson was a lot to process, but his main concern remained. “Couldn’t I visit? Just for a day, just to be sure he’s alright? I just need to see him,” he pleaded. It was the only thing he really wanted to do now that he was free; the rest of it all didn’t really seem to matter.

“I assure you I have ways to monitor the situation, Sirius, but I am afraid Petunia has made herself quite clear regarding magical visitors. Perhaps I may be able to convince his aunt to pass along a letter.” The old wizard checked his watch. “For now, I must return to the Ministry where, hopefully, we will soon be on our way to selecting Millicent’s replacement. I believe we have troubled you enough, Sirius, and you must rest.” He motioned for Remus to stand and join them as well. His old friend squeezed Sirius’ shoulder briefly before doing so.

McGonagall came forward, however. “It really is an impressive feat that you three managed,” she said as Dumbledore and Remus left the room. “I don’t suppose you’ve decided what you’ll do once you’ve been discharged?”

“Well, my only request has been denied. Suppose I’ll have to get a new flat or a house.” There was no way his old flat hadn’t been rented out to someone else by now, and he’d go back to Azkaban before willingly returning to Grimmauld Place.

McGonagall made a short humming sound. “You might try looking for property in Surrey.”

“Surrey?” He echoed doubtfully.

“Yes. There are some houses on Privet Drive. Good place to raise boys, or just children in general.” She fixed him with a look.

Slowly, a grin spread across his lips. “I’ll have to give the area a look.”

His former Head of House nodded and turned for the door. “Go through the treatment first, Sirius. It will be better for you in the long run.”

He nodded, shifting back against his pillows. He would go through the treatment as quickly as was possible so that he could be let out and ready to go to Privet Drive. For the first time since his arrest, he had a goal. And it felt good.

—-

At age eight, Harry Potter had decided that there truly was something strange about himself. Or at the very least, there had to be some sort of explanation for why he was treated differently than all the other children and why strange things just seemed to happen around him.

When he was younger, he had thought perhaps the Durselys behaved just as any family did towards non-immediate relations. Yet he had started at primary and learned about things like adoption and foster care, where children were taken in by families totally unrelated to them and treated the same as everybody else. He had gone home and asked his Aunt Petunia why he hadn’t been adopted.

“You should count yourself lucky you weren’t,” she had snapped. “No one would have wanted a freak like you, anyway. Now go to your cupboard and stop asking questions!”

Harry had done so, not feeling very lucky at all.

None of the other children at school had to do chores all day, either. That was what Harry was currently occupied with; dusting in the sitting room. It was one of his least favorite chores because it meant he had to be very careful lest he break something. The one time he accidentally had, he’d been sent to his cupboard without food for two days. Sometimes Dudley threatened to knock more of the china figures over just to get Harry in trouble, though thankfully his cousin was out with Piers Polkiss today.

As he went to dust the window ledge, his ears picked up the sound of a very loud motor, like the sort Uncle Vernon often complained about after his commute home from work. The motor grew louder and louder, until a motorbike careened around the bend of Magnolia Crescent and stopped in front of Number 2 Privet Drive.

Harry watched in fascination, dusting completely forgotten, as a man got off the bike. He wore a leather jacket and an old t-shirt with some sort of bird on it in very faded gold. The man walked up to Number 2 and knocked, hands shoved in his pockets with casual elegance.

“Boy!”

Harry jumped at the sound of his Aunt’s voice.

“Stop dawdling or you won’t have finished your chores before dinner. Those who don’t sit at the table don’t eat.”

Harry nearly tried to explain himself by pointing out the strange man and his motorbike, but thought better of it. Aunt Petunia did not like excuses any more than she liked questions.

“Yes, Aunt Petunia.”

Harry had only just finished up the dusting when there was a knock on the front door. His Aunt frowned and went to answer it.

“Hello?” She asked with barely concealed displeasure.

“Hello. Are you Petunia Dursley?” A man’s voice asked. Harry inched out into the hallway to try and see better. “Yeah, must be, you’ve got the same nose.”

“I beg your pardon? Who are you and why are you calling at my home?”

“Right, sorry. We really should’ve met by now. I’m Sirius Black, James and Lily’s friend.”

Aunt Petunia reared back as though he had slapped her, allowing Harry to get a look at him. It was the same man who had ridden in on the motorbike. “Who told you that you could come here?”

“Er, no one, actually. Look, I’ve been away, let’s say, and I just wanted to check on Harry. They named me his godfather, you see.”

Harry gave a start as he realized this strange visitor had something to do with him. His godfather? He wasn’t entirely sure what that meant.

“His— the boy doesn’t have— where exactly have you been?” Aunt Petunia spluttered. Her hand was shaking where she held the door still slightly shut.

“Prison,” Sirius Black answered cheerily. Then the next instant, “Ouch— you’ve a very strong — I was innocent, alright!”

For Aunt Petunia was trying to shut the door on his foot.

“I’ll not have some convict in my home! Trust Lily to get mixed up with criminals.”

“It was a frameup, a misunderstanding. I’ve been officially declared innocent, honest! I just want to see my godson. He’s right down the hall, there, it’ll only take—”

Harry jumped at having been caught and paled when Aunt Petunia whipped her head around to glare at him.

“You! Go to — just go!”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia,” Harry meekly replied. He wasn’t sure why she hadn’t told him to go to his cupboard, but that was where he was supposed to go. Harry hurried across the hall and opened the little door, hurrying inside. He pressed himself up to the grate to try and keep listening.

Outside his cupboard, it had gone very quiet. He thought he heard the man’s voice, very low and lacking in the laid back manner he had been speaking in. His Aunt said something next.

Then, much louder, “I said, why did he just shut himself up in a cupboard?”

“This is none of your business!” There was a crash as the front door hit the wall. “You’re not welcome here! I want you to go!”

“Not without Harry.” The door to Harry’s cupboard was wrenched open, which caused Harry to topple out. He was caught and gently set on his feet, face to face with Sirius Black.

To Harry, he was everything the Dursleys were not. If Uncle Vernon were to see the stubble on his face, he’d yell at the man to get a shave. He was terribly thin with hollow cheeks and waxen skin, though with some extra weight and perhaps some time in the sun, gave the impression that he could be quite handsome. With baggy clothes and windswept hair, he looked more like Harry than Harry’s own relatives did.

The shadows lurking at the corners of his eyes only slightly dampened the open concern he displayed watching Harry.

“Hello, Harry.”

“Hello, Mr. Black.”

The man grimaced. “Sirius will do. It’s good to see you again.”

“We’ve met before?” Harry asked in shock. He would certainly remember meeting someone like this.

Sirius smiled. “Yes, though you wouldn’t remember. You were only a baby. I was friends with your parents.”

“My parents?” Harry echoed in wonder. Harry’s parents were a forbidden topic at the Dursleys. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Aunt Petunia shaking in anger and, if he wasn’t mistaken, fear.

“Lily and James, yes, they were my best friends.”

“Were those their names?

“Were those their—” Sirius bit back his words and leveled a glare at Aunt Petunia, whose shaking grew worse. “Yes, they were.”

“Y- you’re not supposed to- to be here,” she stammered. “Your kind isn’t—”

“Well, Harry’s my kind and he’s already here, so I don’t see why I shouldn’t be.” Sirius turned back to Harry, his glare softening. “Harry, before your parents died, they named me your godfather. That means I’m supposed to look out for you if they can’t, but I couldn’t do that before now.”

“Because you were in prison?”

“Right,” Sirius agreed with a nod. “But they’ve caught the bas- er, bad person who did it, so I can look out for you now. I wanted to see how you were doing at your Aunt’s. Can you tell me why you went in that cupboard just now?”

“Because it’s my room,” Harry answered. Down the hall, he could see Aunt Petunia paling ever more rapidly.

Sirius nodded again, unsurprised, though the look in his eyes was more haunted than before.

“Right. Okay, here’s my idea. You see, Harry, legally I am your guardian, and that means I can take care of you, too. I won’t force you to go if you don’t want—”

Harry’s heart leapt. “You mean I could live with you instead of here?”

“Yes, but only if you want.”

Harry turned and went into his cupboard, grabbing up the old pillow on his bed and stuffing all of Dudley’s castoffs into it. The faded blue blanket that no longer covered him completely went in last.

“I just need my toothbrush, it’s upstairs,” he told Sirius as he came back out. Harry ran up to the bathroom, only catching snatches of the conversation between his Aunt Petunia and his godfather.

“—said we had to take him.”

“Had to treat him like your personal House Elf too, did you?”

“I’ve no idea—”

“—you don’t want him, so this is just better—”

“Fine!”

When Harry came back downstairs, Aunt Petunia and Sirius were standing across from each other and sending dark glances the other’s way occasionally. Sirius’ face brightened when he caught sight of Harry.

“Ready to go, then? I’d tell you to say goodbye to your relatives, but who cares? Come on!”

He took Harry’s hand and led him out the door. Harry’s heart was thumping wildly in his chest. He was leaving the Dursleys. Someone who cared about him did exist. He was going to live with him. It was like out of one of his dreams.

They stopped at the motorbike, and Sirius frowned. “Right, you need a helmet. Er—” He glanced around and picked up a piece of gravel off the driveway. Then he took a long stick out of his back pocket and waved it at it like a magician on the telly, muttering nonsense words. To Harry’s astonishment, the gravel grew and shifted in shape and color until it became a helmet complete with straps to fasten it on.

“How did you do that?”

“Let me guess, they didn’t tell you about the magic, either.”

Harry shook his head. “The Dursleys said magic isn’t real.”

“Well, simply put, it is. Someday you’ll be able to do it, too.”

Harry’s eyes widened. He would be able to do magic? He could hardly believe that it was real even seeing it before his eyes!

Sirius lifted Harry up and sat him on the motorbike, then looked ready to climb on behind him. “Shouldn’t you have a helmet?”

His godfather paused. “Do you just want to see more magic?”

Harry stared back at him.

“Oh, alright.” Sirius picked up another piece of gravel and repeated the magic transformation to Harry’s delight. “You’ve barely seen anything yet,” Sirius told him as he took hold of Harry’s pillowcase satchel, tapping it with his stick and making it shrink. He placed it in his pocket and then got onto the motorbike behind Harry.

“Sirius. Sirius Black!” Adding to Harry’s increasing bewilderment with the day, it was old Mrs. Figg who was calling out to his godfather as she hurried across the street towards them. “Where are you taking the boy?”

“To live with me like he should have been.”

“But it might not be safe—”

“I’ll make sure it’s safe. It’ll be safer for him than in that house. Did you know they had him sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs?”

Mrs. Figg flinched, but said, “I’ll have to tell Dumbledore about this.”

Harry had no clue what a Dumbledore was, but she made it sound very important.

Sirius seemed less impressed. “Go ahead and tell him, Arabella. And tell him that while I understand him not keeping me out of Azkaban, he should have done everything in his power to keep Harry out of a prison.” With that he gunned the engine, forcing Mrs. Figg to back up, and then the motorbike took off down the road.

Harry clung to the handlebars, Sirius’ larger hands on either side of his. He didn’t think he’d ever gone this fast before in his life, and it was brilliant.

He did not know for how long they drove, but as the number of houses began to drop, Sirius leaned forward and said, “Now make sure you’re holding on.”

He pressed a button, and the motorbike began to rise into the air, climbing higher and higher.

“It can fly?”

“Yep! Much faster this way. We’ve got to get all the way to London!”

“What’s in London?”

“A house. I hate to admit it, but Arabella’s right about safety. And there’s only one place I know that fits the bill. It won’t be the most pleasant, but you’ll see when we get there.”

Harry watched in amazement as fields and then buildings passed by below. It was much colder up here than on the ground despite the summer sun, but with Sirius close it made up most of the difference. Magic was real and someone had come to take him away from the Dursleys. He felt certain he would wake up back in his cupboard any moment, but for the meantime he decided to get away with asking questions since his Aunt and Uncle weren’t around to tell him not to.

He learned from Sirius that there was a whole world of witches and wizards separate from the non magic people, or Muggles. His parents had been part of it and that was probably why the Dursleys disliked him so much. The stick that Sirius used to perform magic was called a wand, and Harry would get his own some time after his eleventh birthday so he would be ready to go to a magic school called Hogwarts.

Eventually they descended behind a row of houses into a small yard. “Number 12, Grimmauld Place,” Sirius told him as they walked up to the back door. “It’s Unplottable, which means it’s hard to find. We’ll have to look into adding more protections to it, of course.”

“Isn’t it locked?” Harry asked, watching Sirius reach for the doorknob.

“Not for me. This was my family’s home, and I’m the last of the Blacks. From this line, at least. Mother just died two years ago, I’ve been told.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Sirius assured him. “Be glad you never met her.”

With that, he pushed the door open and led Harry into a very dark and damp basement.

“Lumos,” Sirius said as he held his wand out again, and a light glowed at the tip, showing empty shelves of what might have been a pantry. Cobwebs appeared to have taken it over, and Harry could clearly picture Aunt Petunia’s horrified look. 

Sirius led them up some stairs and into a long, narrow kitchen with a large table at the center. Everything was similarly dusty. “Not much cleaning’s been done. We may get lucky and Kreacher’s died with her.”

“Who’s Kreacher?”

A loud crack at the other end of the room caused Harry to jump, and then again as he took in the sight of a small being with large, batlike ears with hair growing out of them and a lined face. It wore a dirty old loincloth and nothing else.

“So, nasty Master returns to gloat over the death of Kreacher’s beloved Mistress.” Its eyes widened and then narrowed as it took in the sight of Harry; for some reason in particular it seemed to notice the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. “And he brings a filthy half-blood with him.”

“That’s enough out of you, Kreacher,” Sirius growled. “In fact—” he took the pillowcase out of his pocket and returned it to its normal size with another wave of the stick before looking back to Harry. “Are you particularly attached to any of these?”

“My clothes?” Harry shook his head. “Not really.”

“Good.” Sirius took out an oversized shirt which produced an agonized wail from Kreacher.

“No! No, Master!”

“Come off it, Kreacher, you don’t want to work for me. And Harry and I would rather you weren’t here. It’s best for all of us.”

But Kreacher threw himself at the floor in front of Sirius’ feet with unexpected speed and strength, pounding at it with his fists.

“Kreacher must stay! He must!”

“I don’t understand,” Harry stammered as he watched the pitiful display, discomfort churning in his gut. “What is he, and why doesn’t he want my shirt?”

Sirius heaved a sigh. “Kreacher’s a House Elf. They’ve served as little more than slaves in magical families for centuries. He’s been my family’s House Elf for generations, but we’ve never got along. Presenting him with clothes means I’m freeing him, which I’d have thought would suit him just fine.”

“But isn’t slavery wrong?”

“You’ll find there’s a lot still wrong even in a world with magic, Harry. Now come on, Kreacher,” he said, his tone growing harsher. “Just take the clothes.”

“But Kreacher must stay!” The House Elf wailed. “Kreacher promised Master!”

“Whichever Master you’re talking about is long dead. You’re released from your obligations.”

“But Master Regulus’ orders have not been carried out! He swore Kreacher to them, and Kreacher has not been able to carry them out. Kreacher cannot betray Master Regulus,” Kreacher sobbed.

“Can’t he stay until he’s finished whatever it is?” Harry asked, unable to stand the old Elf’s wailing any longer.

Sirius scowled, but between Harry’s pleading and Kreacher’s crying he had little choice. “Alright,” he declared loudly, stuffing the shirt back inside the pillowcase. “What was it Regulus wanted done, Kreacher? The sooner we handle it, the better.”

Kreacher’s tears slowed and he sniffled as he eased back up onto his feet. “Kreacher must destroy the locket.”

“Which locket?”

In a series of two cracks, Kreacher disappeared and reappeared in front of Sirius holding a gold locket with a snake in the shape of an S on the lid.

“Why did he want it destroyed?”

“It was the Dark Lord’s,” said Kreacher.

“The who’s?” Asked Harry.

At the same time, Sirius said, “Voldemort?” For some reason, those specific syllables in that order made Kreacher flinch, though they were incomprehensible to Harry. “But Regulus was on his side.” He looked between Kreacher and Harry. “On second thought, we’ll do the locket later. Kreacher, are there any rooms suitable to sleep in in the house?”

“Kreacher could make them,” the Elf admitted to the floor.

“Alright, then do that to my room. Take down those old posters while you’re at it — but leave the Gryffindor colors. That’ll be your room,” he explained to Harry. “And I’ll take the master bedroom. Then we’ll need to see to the kitchens and bathrooms next. If you’re going to stay here, Kreacher, you better work for it.”

“Yes, Master,” Kreacher said with a half-bow. “Kreacher will start on room for the- for the Young Master,” he said with some effort as he glared at Harry. Then the Elf disappeared with another crack.

“Maybe once he’s finished his job he’ll want to leave?” Harry suggested weakly in the silence.

Sirius did not appear to be angry with him, however. His godfather rubbed at his chin as he said, “You were probably kinder to him than he deserves, but that’s not a bad thing to be. He’ll start his moaning back up once I order him to take the old House Elf heads off the wall.”

“Old House Elf heads?” Harry repeated.

“Yeah. Trust me, this isn’t my ideal place to live, but it’s best for you. Safety first and all that. Come on, I’ll give you a very brief tour, and we can put your things away in your new room.”

He walked around the table and opened another door leading up to a hallway.

“Sirius, what’s a Volder- er, a Voldy—”

“Voldemort?”

But Sirius did not get to answer his question, for the curtains on the wall beside them flew open revealing a woman in what appeared to be a portrait. Except that she was moving and screaming.

“YOU COME BACK HERE, SOILING THE NAME OF MY FOREFATHERS AND BRINGING HALF-BLOOD SCUM INTO MY HOUSE—”

“YOU’RE DEAD, YOU OLD BLOWHARD!” Sirius roared back before grabbing hold of the curtains and wrenching them shut after a great struggle. Several more portraits were coming to life around them, and Sirius used his wand to hit each with a jet of red light that seemed to quiet them.

Panting, he looked to Harry, who had pressed himself into the nearest corner beside a misshapen umbrella stand in fright.

“Looks like you do get to meet her. That was my mother, Harry. We’ll do our best to steer clear of her, eh?”

Harry nodded and continued to follow Sirius up the steps of the gloomy, dusty house. He rather liked the idea of magic and his new godfather — but there was an awful lot of strangeness accompanying the whole thing. And something told him it would only get stranger.

—-

Ginny was having the strangest, most exciting summer of her entire life. And she had only just turned seven!

Percy’s rat had been a dark wizard the whole time, and their dad had caught him. Her dad was the bravest, kindest, funniest wizard in the whole world, and she couldn’t be prouder of him.

He was even going out of the way to be the utmost gentleman to their mum lately, who seemed measurably less impressed with it all than Ginny was. Dad was making sure to be on time for dinner and to help wrangle all of them into bed at night, which was making her nighttime flights more difficult though not necessarily impossible. There had been no sneaky trips out to the shed for the last several days. He’d gone over Bill, Charlie and Percy’s summer homework, though the latter hadn’t taken long at all.

Percy now spent most of his time hiding up in his room since the twins teased him mercilessly about the whole thing with Scabbers not being Scabbers. Ginny was getting older and therefore wiser, as she’d realized by now the only way to stop the twins was not to let them get a rise out of you, but for all his smarts Percy hadn’t gotten that yet. Neither had Ron, though at least he was only a year older than Ginny.

Things were starting to calm down on their own, and the end of summer threatened to be a boring one until one late morning when Ginny came down the stairs to discover they had visitors. One of whom she instantly recognized from the Daily Prophet articles.

Sirius Black was sitting at their kitchen table.

“Dumbledore’s been after me about it, but I’ve taken precautions. At the same time, I don’t just want him sitting in the house with no one but me for company all day,” Sirius Black was saying as both her parents nodded sympathetically. “And I’ve no idea where to buy things for kids these days.”

“Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place,” her dad said. “No better expert than Molly.”

Her mum gave a hum as she regarded her dad, but Ginny could tell she was secretly pleased.

“I don’t want to ask too much of your family, of course, after everything you’ve already done for me. How did you catch him, anyway?”

“Arthur found brown hair in the shower drain and decided that made him an Auror,” her mum said shortly.

Sirius Black looked between Ginny’s parents and then threw his head back with a laugh that sounded more like a bark. “That’s alright, Molly. Wormtail had all of us doubting each other back then. He’s a master at that.”

Soft footsteps on the steps behind Ginny caused her to turn and look up as an unfamiliar boy with messy black hair and glasses descended. He stopped as he spotted her, allowing her to notice the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. With a jolt, she realized she knew who the boy must be as well: Harry Potter.

Ginny gasped and jumped back against the wall as the boy continued to stare at her with the greenest eyes and a curious tilt of the head. Harry Potter thought she was interesting?

The more she watched him as well, the more she found discrepancies with the old bedtime stories. In those stories, Harry Potter didn’t have ill-fitting clothes and taped glasses. He was rich and famous and wouldn’t have time for a place like the Burrow. He was too busy being a hero.

Last of all, with marked awkwardness, he smiled and said, “Er, hello.”

It occurred to Ginny that her father was a hero and was just their father. Maybe Harry could be a hero and just be Harry, too.

“Hello,” said Ginny, softer than she normally was. Then, a little louder, “I’m Ginny.”

“I’m Harry.”

“Oh, Harry,” her mother said, bustling over. “Find the bathroom alright? Good, you can join Ginny for breakfast. The boys have already eaten and gone up to the paddock. Well, except Percy, but best not to disturb him.”

Ginny climbed up onto her chair and Harry did so beside her. “Morning, Dad.”

“Morning, Ginny,” her dad said. “Sirius, this is our youngest.”

“Right. Very nice to meet you,” Sirius Black said. Ginny nodded somewhat meekly and was glad when her mother put food in front of her plate. She watched Harry’s eyes go wide behind his glasses when his own plate was set down piled high with sausage, eggs and toast.

“Eat up, dear,” her mum encouraged him. “Those Muggles clearly weren’t feeding you properly.”

“Muggles?” Ginny blurted without thinking.

Harry ducked his head. “Er, yeah. My relatives.”

“Before I was exonerated, Harry was staying with his aunt and her family on his mother’s side,” Sirius explained. “Now that I’m out, he’s come to live with me.”

“And you were raised completely as a Muggle, is that right?” Her dad asked Harry. “I would love to know — but, er,” he added with a glance at Ginny’s mum, “perhaps some other time.”

Ginny couldn’t quite stifle a giggle, which seemed to let Harry know it was alright to smile, too. He was much quieter and more polite than any of her brothers. Even Percy had a sort of loud bossiness about him.

“Yes, Mr. Weasley.”

“Now how old are you, Ginny?” Sirius asked her.

Ginny sat up a little straighter. “I just turned seven on August 11th.”

“Did you? Shame we missed it. You’ll be the year behind Harry at Hogwarts, then.”

Ginny felt a terrible disappointment at that. “You mean he’ll be with Ron?”

“Yes, dear,” her mum replied. “Ron and Harry were both born the same year, and they’ll both be eleven by the cutoff.”

Ginny speared a sausage with vicious accuracy. It wasn’t fair being the youngest.

“But that’s three years away,” said Sirius. “And for now, Harry’s going to be needing other kids to play with and learn some of the basics like maths and writing. You could do those together.”

“Really?”

“Only if you like,” Harry hurriedly mumbled.

“Oh, I would!”

“Once you two have finished eating, Sirius asked if he and Harry could accompany me to Diagon Alley,” her mum said. “They need to pick up a few things. You can come along, too, Ginny. The boys will be up at that paddock all day.”

Ginny hurried to finish her breakfast and noticed Harry mimicking her out of the corner of her eye. Once they’d both finished, they went to join her mother and Sirius by the fireplace.

“What do your brothers do at the paddock?” Harry asked her as the adults finished getting ready.

“They go flying and play mock Quidditch.”

Harry’s eyes lit up with interest. “I like flying.”

“Me too! Only don’t tell anybody else, it’s a secret,” she told him.

“I’ve never had a secret before,” said Harry.

“Alright, Molly first and then you two,” Sirius announced. “And remember, clearly say it, Harry. We can’t go losing you all the time or Dumbledore’s going to lock me back up for negligence.”

Harry’s hands balled into fists at his sides. “He can’t do that!”

“Not if we don’t test it, he can’t,” Sirius said, ruffling his godson’s hair. Harry made a face as Ginny laughed again.

“We can go together,” Ginny boldly suggested as her mum accepted a kiss from her dad before stepping into the fireplace. She disappeared with a shout of their destination.

“Okay,” Harry agreed with a shy smile. Ginny grinned back and took his hand to lead him into the green flames.

Yes, Harry Potter was turning out to be very different than her fairy tale imaginings. But she found she rather liked him anyway.

—-

Albus found himself not nearly as enthusiastic to start the new term this year as compared to previous ones. Were it not for a recent string of events, he would be happily looking forward to the Welcoming Feast. As it was, he wished he had more time.

The revelation that they had been wrong all these years about Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew troubled him a great deal. He tried his best never to make mistakes, but it seemed that whenever he did they had disastrous consequences. An innocent man had been left to the tender mercies of the Dementors for nearly eight years. It was a fact that would weigh heavily on his conscious.

Now that Sirius was out, he was proving to be quite the loose cannon as he’d been before. Albus suspected he knew how Sirius had gotten the address of the Dursley family, but it would do little good to have a word with Minerva after the fact. By the time Arabella had gotten her message to him Sirius had vacated Surrey with Harry, effectively severing the ties between the boy and his blood relations. The wards would no longer work now that Harry knew there was someone in his life who wished to provide him a home and unconditional love.

Perhaps he should have realized Petunia Dursley would be unable to get over her resentment of her sister. But Albus had hoped Harry might be treated with something like civility. He had reached out to Sirius about forming some sort of compromise regarding Harry’s living situation and had been rebuffed with a list of all the Dursleys’ transgressions regarding their nephew.

And then Sirius had presented him with a far more pressing matter.

“Harry will be staying with me at the Black Ancestral Home. I’ve asked Remus to be the Secret Keeper, and we’ll be performing the charm tomorrow,” Sirius had explained as he paced in front of Albus’ desk late the night after he had taken full guardianship of the boy. “Before that happens, we’ll be clearing out the house of any dark artifacts. My family had quite the collection.”

“I can well imagine.”

“The thing is, there’s one I’d like your opinion on. It belonged to Regulus, or he acquired it at least.” A somber look had crossed the young man’s face for a moment before he’d withdrawn a golden locket with the S of Salazar Slytherin emblazoned on it. “He charged our family’s Elf with destroying it, and Kreacher’s been unable to all these years.”

Albus had stared at it, transfixed in both wonder and horror. Could it really be true? “Does Kreacher know how your brother obtained this locket?”

“He says it was Voldemort’s, but when I ask him more about it he clams up. Gets too upset.”

“It’s good you brought this to my attention, Sirius. Despite our disagreements, something of Lord Voldemort’s should not be treated lightly.” He had stood up and come around the desk. “If I may, I must ask you to borrow this for a time so that I may identify it and, if possible, determine how to destroy it.”

Sirius had nodded. “The further it’s kept from Harry, the better. I haven’t told him about the war yet. Petunia told him James and Lily died in a car crash.” His shoulders had slumped. “I know I need to soon, but he’s just so happy to be away from those horrid people right now. He’s making friends, learning. And it’s hard, going back there…”

Albus had taken the locket from Sirius and placed a hand on his shoulder. “When the time is right, you will tell him. And I think that you may be a better judge of that than me. For the meantime, I’m sure you wish to return to your godson.”

Sirius had nodded and left soon after.

For the remaining days in August, Albus had studied the locket; how it worked, what it could withstand. He at last came to the inevitable conclusion that it was precisely what he feared: a Horcrux.

He had long wondered how Voldemort had vanished that Halloween night, no body to show a mortal end. Tom Riddle had feared death too much to leave things to chance, and a Horcrux was the logical if reprehensible choice.

That Regulus Black, a young and relatively inexperienced Death Eater, had managed to retrieve such an object worried him. It made him think that perhaps Voldemort was not relying solely on a single Horcrux to ensure his survival. But for such a thing to be true…

He would need to find the means to destroy the locket, then wait and see what his sources told him about Voldemort’s movements, weak as they currently were. If nothing changed, it would mean something worse was waiting for the Wizarding World. Harry Potter’s role in the fight to save it might not yet be over.

For now, though, the unexpected capture of Peter Pettigrew had provided a reprieve for a number of lives so marred by tragedy. Perhaps time would continue to be kind or perhaps not, but there was no reason they shouldn’t take advantage of happier days.

It never hurt to have hope when dark times arrived.

[ianxfalcon]

You know, I normally don’t think a lot about The Kingkiller Chronicle, because as a general rule I prefer to think about things that I like or things that I absolutely hate. But as I was repairing some clothes for the upcoming renaissance fair, I remembered a line from the first book that really bugged me.

Kvothe was complaining about how poor he was and the thing he focused on was that he had to make do with two shirts and that he had to mend them with the wrong-colour thread. At the time, I was mostly annoyed because this is a kid who’s lived on the street for four years, begging and stealing to survive, and now that he has a roof over his head and three meals a day, he’s complaining about not being fashionable enough? It was, to my opinion, really strange and whiny considering that this should be the norm in the world that the book has presented to us. It felt more like something a modern college student would be concerned about.

But as I was thinking about it today - growing increasingly annoyed because I was thinking about it while sewing, an activity I hate passionately - I suddenly realized something that put my dislike of both the book and the character of Kvothe in a new light.

(Before we begin, let me just state that yes, this is a KKC hate post. If you like the series and Kvothe, that’s great and I’m happy for you. You do not need to tell me that I’m wrong or have no taste or just don’t understand literature; I don’t care. If you don’t want to read a text being negative about a book you love, feel free to go somewhere else. If you still want to argue, I will probably ignore you, unless you make a good point.)

(For the record, I don’t actually hate the series. I do hate Kvothe, though, which is kind of the same thing, I guess, as he is the narrator and shows up in every chapter of the first book, except one - which is incidentally the best chapter in the book. The Name of the Wind would be a perfectly decent book if it wasn’t for Kvothe. He is terrible. A friend of mine, who is a fan of the series, told me about a plot that happened in the second book, which I haven’t read, and said that I would probably enjoy it because it consisted of Kvothe being beaten up repeatedly.)

So what I realized was this:

The narrative, and Kvothe himself in the role of the narrator, is trying to present him as an underdog. Think about it: he arrives at the University completely broke, he - as he keeps reiterating over and over and over again - has no money, and Draco Malfoy Ambrose Whatever-The-Fuck-His-Name-Is, the rich jock of fantasy, is constantly bullying him. A lot of people treat him like dirt because he’s, like, a nobody who comes here and is so much better than them, how dare he, etc. And of course Kvothe himself likes to remind us (and remind us, and remind us, and remind us) that nobody could ever understand his hardships.

But Kvothe is not an underdog. He grew up in a travelling troupe who were hated, sure, for no apparent reason other than because they were, but they were not oppressed or disadvantaged in any way. They had a rich patron, they had all the income they needed - it’s even mentioned that they didn’t even need to travel around, and could just cancel shows whenever they felt like it if the areas weren’t up to their standards, ie. if they didn’t get the best spot and the best beds and so on. They constantly, constantly looked down their noses at the common people for not being as well-travelled or as well-educated as them.

From the start, Kvothe had a diverse education; he is well-read, he can do sums, he’s a good actor, a god-tier musician (apparently), he speaks Shakespearean fluently; he dresses well and talks well. He had a private tutor giving him lessons about magic and everything else he could want. The book keeps insisting that he’s a genius and makes that the basis of his persona.

Except being a genius is not what got him to the University. All of the things I mentioned above is what got him there. His education, his acting skills, his eye for fashion, the fact that he had the fortune to start doing magic at a young age under a teacher, hell, just the fact that he could read - that’s what got him to the University. None of that was of his own making, really, except coming up with a way to make use of those skills.

There are, even today in our own world, countless of geniuses out there who will never get those chances. They won’t have the opportunities to go to a university because they can’t afford it, they have to work to feed their families, they never learned to read or count in the first place because that education is not available for everyone. There are people who could probably change the world, save the world, but who will die from starvation or easily preventable diseases before they turn twelve. The same is probably true in Kvothe’s world - we know poverty exists, because we get to see it. There are children living on the streets (one of which sees everything he’s ever owned go up in flames because Kvothe is a petty little shit), there are abandoned children living in basements, being cared for by one concerned individual. Some of those children probably were intelligent as well - maybe not as intelligent as a certain protagonist because he’s like a Sooper Genius, but certainly intelligent and talented enough that they could become successful and celebrated in a chosen field. But they can’t. Because they’re poor and uneducated, you know, just like the people Kvothe and his family used to look down on.

Kvothe spends four years living in poverty, and then he decides to stop, and when he does it takes him less than a day to get everything back in order. He spent four years doing nothing except feeling sorry for himself, when apparently all he needed was to just get his act together. But he could only do it thanks to his background; he used his acting skills, which he learned from his parents because they had the time and opportunity to do so, and his reading and mathematics skills - which you can only get from a formal education - to con people and getting money. His acceptance into the University also hinged on education he received - education he would not have gotten unless he had been born into that kind of privilege.

And once he’s off the street, it’s like those four years never happened. He doesn’t reflect on them, he never even seems particularly worried that he’ll end up back there. His concerns are all very shallow: only owning two shirts, which makes him look poor or cheap; having to use the wrong-colour thread to mend them, which will look slightly less good; not being able to go out for a beer or buy luxury items.

Now, I’m not saying that people who grew up in poverty (which, again, Kvothe didn’t; he was twelve when his troupe were murdered) shouldn’t be allowed to enjoy luxurious things, and I’m certainly not saying that they should be grateful for what little they get. But the fact that Kvothe doesn’t even think about it, except to whine about it occasionally when he’s not whining about something else, shows a certain level of... privilege that I’m pretty sure was not intentional.

It would make sense that Kvothe, going from a life in relative luxury to a life that is comfortable but not fantastic, would be upset about it. If he had gone directly from the troupe (I’m sorry that I can’t remember what they were called) to the University, then his attitude would make sense. But he spent four years in poverty and didn’t gain any perspective at all. The way he acts makes it seem like he believes he is entitled to things simply because he is smart and has skills. That is a very privileged way to look at things, and if he had been intended to be seen as a privileged kid who has to work past that, then it would have been pretty good characterisation.

Except, again, he spent four years in poverty. He probably watched people starve to death. He should at least at some point have been worried that the same thing would happen to him. He should know that his being in the University is not some kind of reward for his suffering, but a privilege for a few lucky people.

And yet, he says “I don’t expect anyone to understand.”

Yet, we are supposed to see his story as one of an underdog coming from nothing, fighting, and, against all odds, winning. (And then spending a lot of time in a depression because he’s not Awesome anymore, but that’s a whole other can of worms.) Meanwhile, on the streets of Tarbean, children are still starving to death because they never had a well-off background, a private tutor, and readily available education that they could fall back on.

And maybe that’s not what Rothfuss intended, but that is how I read it. The books, now as then, has one really big problem and that is the way they choose to present their protagonist, or at least the way I interpret him. Am I wrong? Possibly? Does it matter? No.

[fakesurprise]

Digging Into Pasts

The universe is very large. But there are times I feel that biases are larger still. They my credentials are in order is never the issue. But they ask questions, demand to know the access of all my staff. My tail twitches slightly despite my effort. I have long since grown out of believing the gods of my people but even so the old story tugs at me. The arrogance of bipedals is often without limit. I move past the last of the security officers, catch one comment about ‘slithering’.

I could have their postings for this, even this far from Hive. But it is not worth shedding skin over. Dekai is hissing softly as I approach, eyes narrow slits.

“They insult us,” Dekai says, deliberately hissing the words. “You should not allow for this, Chord.”

“Insults are the consolation of fools; consider that a lesson.”

“And a fool who is taught nothing remains only a fool,” Dekai shoots back.

“You would teach them to fear us, then? If history offers any lessons, it may venture ones about how unwise such actions are.”

Dekai moves away, murmuring furious words. Too young to know history.

“It is easier to be feared than loved.” I turn, surprised, and realize the student-aide is behind me. “But eventually fear turns into a luxury that cannot be afforded. And so the object of fear dies, or is driven away.” The aide has a smile that speaks of a fresh molting, but eyes that hint at the secrets the earth holds.

“It is one reason we are here, yes.” I move to a viewpane, activate it with a thought. Outside the Krilv-built space station lurks the Shifting. A piece of the universe in constant flux, for reasons no one knows. Few travel into it, and fewer still emerge. Dekai is here because youth believe they are immortal. Squam seeks truth. Colub and Storeria have remained back with our ship seeking to apply very expensive scans and equipment to both us and the Shifting.

Dekai was rude to them until the student-aide told him that to watch people go to adventures was sometimes braver than having them. To wave one away and to await their return took more bravery than heroism. I don’t think Dekai believed it, but it did work a little. The student-aide was here to have a bipedal among us, in part. And volunteered, which meant the budget people insisted we accept the aid.

The aide moves closer to the window. Squam’s tail gently wraps about my chest, slipping away as I glance over.

“Hardly the time for that,” I offer, half-laughing.

“I thought you could use a distraction from Dekai.” Squam’s voice lowers. “And some information.”

“On the Shifting?”

“Our Aide.”

“The records all checked out –.”

“Yes, yes. But Colub did a deep scan. To test the system, mostly; the Aide is – surface-only. No details could be gleaned by the scan.”

My tongues slips past my lips for a moment. “That is – not possible, I would have said. The Hive is the largest centre of learning in a dozen galaxies, but not without enemies. A spy?”

“It is hard to know, Chord.”

The aide comes walking over, winding an easy path through people who part without thinking. Nice. Quiet, in a way that listening, bipedal because it is always useful to have one. I had no idea what species; I sent a message to the Hive to find out as we joined, made conversation. So easy with us, for a bipedal, but it did not have to mean a spy.

Dekai returns. Permission to enter the Shifting is at least easy to gain as almost no one survives it. The aide puts on a shiftsuit meant to aid in survival, pauses.

“We have no need of such things,” Dekai says smugly. “We can shed a skin that will survive this.”

“Ah.” And the aide says nothing else.

I turn my head to the door, that opens at a push from my will. Normally we pretend to interface properly, but I a little on edge. There are few scholars here, but even among scholars few ask how a people without arms nor legs made their way into space, or simply assume we were aided. That we could make energy fields was known; what we could do with them, we kept to ourselves.

The exit into the Shifting was the only place in the station devoid of merchandise and glorifications of the Shifting. We reach it without hassle; Dekai insists on going first, moving into the shunt and being hurled into the Shifting. Space that is not space. Twisted, changed, colours and forms and readings that existed nowhere else. A weapon, a wound, the result of some strange love affair? There were more theories than even I knew, but nothing beat exploring it in person. Assuming we survived.

I close down most of my senses, moving into the shunt and then out into the Shifting. By the time the people running it realize that I, Squam and Dekai apparently had no protective suits it will just be another story to add to all the others. The aide follows Squam in silence, even after the Shifting beings to assault. Up, down, left, right: nothing makes sense. There is no sense here.

Energies shimmer about Dekai, will manifested in visible spectrums. “There is a lot,” Dekai hisses softly, tail twitching nervously.

“Pressure,” Squam agrees. “More than we expected.”

“The suit is holding,” the aide offers.

We move. The shifting is difficult to navigate in all the stories, but we are smaller than others who come here, and slither through spaces they could not. Perhaps it is why the Shifting notices. Presses. Shifts about us in wild colours, ideas, notions too alien to be grasped.

“Chord,” Squam says, almost nervous as we slither together. Dekai joins us. The aid floats close, having kept up somehow.

“It is aware,” Dekai says. “Of us. Perhaps punishing us for arrogance?”

“Preposterous,” Squam says. A favourite word, delivered in the tone of one academic we all gently mock. It does not even win a hiss of laughter from Dekai. “We could test it.”

“No,” I say swiftly. “Just shielding ourselves is taking all our strength; we cannot shield you if you decide to press energies out into – this.”

“I know. But will we have a chance to learn like this again?”

“Don't,” the aide says.

But Squam pushes energy out even as the aide speaks. Power, force. We are dangerous in ways we hide, but the Shifting – it lashes about us, and I barely hold my shield. Dekai wraps their tail around me, sharing energy, trying to keep us alive.

The aide just – stands. The shiftsuit has been destroyed, but the bipedal one just stands in the middle of the Shifting unharmed.

“What is this?” I do not trust my own voice.

“I tried to keep the shiftsuit together, and Squam.” The aide lets out a sigh. “The danger of hiding is that one gets out of practise in some things.”

“Hiding. Like hingari do?” Dekai hisses, baring fangs.

The aide – the person – smiles a smile that is gentle despite the hate in Dekai's voice. “I came because of your report on the hingari, if you must know. Few believe they exist, but there were once the most feared species in over a dozen galaxies. Shape shifters, body changers. Able to hide and to be whatever they needed to.” The aide holds out a hand, the shifting flowing and moving. Steadying, somehow. “And now almost forgotten. This is where their last warship was, long and long ago. Dragged out a shiftspace, weapons primed. Four hingari, no more, to pilot a craft that could have decimated a galaxy. And they turned it inward. Destroyed the engines, every weapon core, themselves.”

“They made the Shifting,” I say, half a question.

“An attempt to be remembered, at the ending of all they were.”

“And what are you, to know this?”

“Not hingari. They were very good spies, but I am not that. I was old when they were young: they rose so high, and I was around to see them become legends, and they are barely even that now. Someone told me once that we die twice. Once when we die, again when no one remembers us.” His smile takes my breath away. Numberless skins are shed in it. “Sometimes I think everything I do pales next to remembering. But there are limits even to memory. Live long enough, and things become – tangled. And there are limits to how far I can go back,” he adds, barely a whisper. “How often, and why, and when.

“One day I almost forgot what her eyes looked like. I went back to remind myself. I could have asked myself when I was younger, but there would have been a judgement I did not wish to face. But there are limits, too, you understand. I am – what I am, and I cannot go back to the same precise spot, the same exact time in the past too often or things can be… damaged.

“I can do things now that I never could have imagined when I was younger, but sometimes I would rather lose power in favour of the freedom I once had.”

“Your words make no sense,” I say, even though they do.

“Squam is dead. Many have died, and you – you let the Shifting remain?” Dekai demands.

“It was their final attempt to be remembered. It seems wrong to destroy that.” He stares out into the Shifting. “But your people are energy as much as flesh. Perhaps more than, in times to come.” And the aide – held out a hand, and Squam was there. Translucent, energies pulled together from this placed. Shifted, shaped.

“Squam?”

“Chord? I am missing flesh.”

“We can share mine,” I offer, not understanding.

It hurts. Attempting to hold two people in one body, and then it no longer hurts.

“A gift,” the aide says. “So that you will remember your own in ways others never will.”

“What are you?” Dekai demands.

“A traveller. A seeker, like yourselves. I have been – trying to be forgotten, because it may be safer for others if I am.”

“And what happens when you wish to be remembered, like this hingari?” I am not sure if it is me or Squam. I no longer know where my tail ends and Squam's begins.

“A point. And one I will need to consider. My name is Jay, if that helps,” he offers, and then isn't there.

We make our way back the station. Squam and I together are enough for shifting, and Dekai forces a path. It takes all our strength, but we returned, survived, and for that we rest in free lodgings and no one asks questions. But they do make stories.

It is Colub who slithers in slowly days later. “You were more than foolish.” “We were,” Dekai says. No anger, no boasting. Just a fact.

“And Chord. You are –?”

“Squam. And Chord. Something new that in time will be old as well. A way to remember.”

Colub considers that, offers a small nod. “I will want to know more. The bipedal?”

“Gone. Under their own power. They were – never what they claimed, at all,” I admit.

“I searched the Hive. There was a species known as humans, and they had many forms over thousands of years, but are long gone. The aide looked like one of them, but even by those standards lacked even rudimentary wings, or gills or any useful adaptation humans had been able to graft into their forms.”

“Old, then,” I say slowly.

“I have had time,” Dekai offers diffidently. “While you and Squam have been – adjusting. I searched the Hive from here – we can discuss the cost later – and this Jay might be one Jayseltosche. Something old, and alien, and helpful and strange. Almost every file is classified at levels I do not have access to. I do not know why they were with us, Chord.”

“Perhaps to be remembered, even if Jay cannot be forgotten. I do not know either,” I say, and I think that may be the deepest sorrow in all of this.

[nubnubblr]

If You Do .16

CHARLIE

"I think that I should just cancel, it's not like I can even play," Sam stated.

He was lying on the lounge, the same place he had been all week. Not that I blamed him, he couldn't go to work and it's not like he could do much else, but he had fallen into a depressed state and that wasn't allowed to happen. Sam is always positive and happy, even if the rest of us weren't.

"Get dressed," I stated.

"Why?" he sighed.

"Because I think you need to go,"

"So I can stand there and watch everyone else play?"

"I'm pretty sure Haka wants your voice in his band, besides I think it would be good for you to be able to be a part of music while you're waiting to play,"

"His name is Leo,"

"Just get dressed, what's the worse that could happen? You decide you don't want to?" I challenged. He let out another sighed getting up.

"Fine,"

"Be quick about it, I've got dance rehearsal tonight,"

"You've had dance rehearsal every night this week," he retorted.

"Because I have a show tomorrow," I shot back.

I've also had the past two weeks off from the dance company because of the douche trio and their antics. I felt like I was behind, even if I was told I didn't have to come in ever night.

SAM

"This is where he lives?" Charlie frowned.

"It's the address he gave me," I shrugged.

"How exactly does he afford this place?"

"I'm pretty sure he and his friend own it,"

"He owns it? But he looks like a gypsy. I was expecting a bus,"

"I think his family is loaded,"

"Of course," she rolled her eyes.

She had a, not so secret, disdain for trust fund kids. Mostly because they have money they don't have to work for, but Leo was different, he was actually trying to work towards his dream, he just had the luxury of having the cushion cash flow while he did so.

Leo came through the white gate and open the larger white gate to let us up the driveway. He smiled and waited for us to get out of the car.

"How's the shoulder?" was the first thing he said.

"It's nice to see you too Haka," Charlie frowned at him disapprovingly.

"I see Thea is making sure my new nickname is catching on,"

"You are the one who performed the haka in the middle of a bar," I pointed out.

"This is true," he nodded

"So where is this band room?" Charlie asked.

"Follow me," he gestured.

We followed him back through the small white gate which led into the backyard. There was a stepping stone path that forked out leading to the house and what looked to be the garage. In this back corner of the yard was a school bus, I withheld my laugh as Charlie pointed to it giving me an 'I told you so' look.

We turned towards the garage which looked longer than it needed to be. Once we'd followed him through the side door I realised that there was a wall through the centre dividing it into two spaces. We walked through the garage section which was big enough for three cars but only sat one. He led us through another door which brought us to the band room.

"Charlie, Sam, this is Jeff and Dylan," he introduced.

THEA

"I need 5 kilos of potatoes peels, 3 kilos of carrots peeled and diced, and a kilo of onions diced," the head chef stated pointing at each of us as he listed the prep items.

"Yes chef," we stated in unison.

He left to give other students instructions. Cory started on the carrots, Benji took the onions, and I was awarded with peeling 5 kilos of potatoes. Technically I didn't even have to be here, but I like taking the extra days just in case something happens and I have to miss a day. Benji and Cory were just behind.

"So, how are talks with that guy going?" Benji wiggled his eyebrows at me.

"We are actually going out to lunch tomorrow," I nodded.

"Want us to come?" Cory offered.

"No, I'm an adult I can go on a date without back up," I frowned.

"Charlie's going with you isn't she?" Benji stated.

"Yes," I mumbled.

"You're so predictable," Cory shook his head at me.

"Whatever," I rolled my eyes.

"On another note, how are the birthday plans going?"

"Don't even go there," I sighed shaking my head.

"Not well?"

"There are so many people coming and so much food to make, I swear I'm going to spend most of the night cooking, I miss my mum," I whined.

"Are your parents coming down for it?"

"They can't get time off," I shook my head.

"What about your brother?"

"Nope," I cleared my throat.

It wasn't really unusual since they move up north I haven't seen them much, maybe once or twice a year, if I'm lucky. And never on my birthday, is usually the busiest time for them because it's so close to Christmas. But it still sucked, I miss them normally, but even more so on my birthday.

"Well we'll be there," Cory nudged my shoulder with his.

"I'm sure we can be as annoying at your brother," Benji smirked, tears starting to fall from his eyes.

"Awe, bro, are you getting emotional?" Cory teased.

"It's just so sad," he fake sobbed.

"Chef is going to tell you off if you don't stop," I shook my head.

"He's busy giving out tasks," Cory shrugged.

"Thea is right, I'm okay with you guys taking but you need to be serious, especially around knives," Chef was standing behind us arms crossed over his chest.

"Yes chef," Benji nodded.

"Told you," I mumbled.

CHARLIE

He wasn't sure, he was definitely reluctant about standing in front of a microphone stand without a guitar. He was fidgety, probably because he's not used to having his hands empty. He looked at me and seemed to calm down a bit, taking a deep breath he nodded at Haka who started to play a melody, Jeff and Dylan joined in and a few seconds later Sam started to sing.

It didn't take him long to fee his comfortable, his hands were on the microphone stand, fingers tapping along to the beat. He even smiled, this was definitely something he should be doing, not just while he's waiting for his shoulder to heal.

"So what do you think?" Haka asked the room, he was already sure he wanted Sam to join the band.

"Good," Jeff nodded, Dylan agreed. The spoke in broken English and it was honestly so cute.

"Sam?" he asked hopeful.

"It was fun," he nodded still unsure.

"So are you joining our band?"

"I have to think about it a little more," he shrugged.

"Okay," Haka nodded disappointedly.

"We have to go to the hospital for a check-up, but I'll call you when I decide," Sam stated. His appointment wasn't for another hour an a half but I didn't say anything, it was clear he wanted to leave which just confused me.

SAM

It was fun, and I enjoyed it until I realised how much I already missed playing guitar. It was like being hit by a bus, and I just wanted to leave.

"Oh, okay," Leo nodded confused.

He offered us something to eat before we left but I really just wanted to get out of here, I felt like I couldn't breathe. It took all I had to not run to the car, Charlie followed behind me with a concerned look plastered on her face.

"What's wrong?" she frowned as we pulled out of his driveway.

"Nothing," I shook my head, I felt really stupid.

"Right," she raised an eyebrow. I sighed.

"I didn't think it would be that hard to not play guitar, I felt like I was suffocating,"

"Playing guitar as always been your outlet, it's how you vent and you haven't been able to do that so you've been bottling everything. It's no wonder you felt that way," she stated.

"I guess,"

"You just need a new outlet,"

"Like what?"

"Why don't you start writing music again? Your new band is going to need original songs," she hinted.

"You think I should join?"

"Yes,"

"Because it will stop me from moping on your couch?"

"No, because you enjoyed it because it's something that I think you suit and works for you,"

"But also the couch thing," she smirked.

"So what now?"

"I don't know, your appointment isn't for another hour or so," she shrugged.

"Food?"

"I know this great cafe,"

BM

"Hey, there brother of mine," Coco walked through the door.

"How was your time down south?" I asked not looking up from my clipboard.

"12, 7, 42, 69," Jae laughed.

He had been sprouting out random numbers for the last 10 minutes because I was doing stocktake and writing up the new order. He thought it would be fun to see how many times he could make me restart counting. So far, I'd had to start again twice.

"It was fun, sorry we stayed longer than planned, you didn't need my help here did you?"

"Nope, if I opened this place on the condition of you help then I would be a little screwed what with your job involving a lot of travel,"

"Right, so how is Sam?"

"He's okay, in a bit of a self-pity state, he's been sitting on the girls' lounge for the past week. He hasn't been up for much so,"

"He was supposed to have band practice today, I'm not sure he went through," Jae shrugged before continuing with counting.

"Bro, would you shut up?" I frowned.

"Did you screw up again?" He smirked.

"Can you go and distract him or something, I need to get this done," I sighed.

"Why don't I do that? You're irritable and likely to make a mistake," she slid the clipboard towards her.

"You think you can block him out?"

"I've spent half of my life blocking him out," she commented, I frowned.

"What? He's super irritating," she shrugged.

CHARLIE

I parked the car and we walked into the cafe. Skye who was behind the counter smiled up at me she was new and really only got called into work when me or Jae couldn't come in.

"Hey, I thought you worked this morning,"

"I did, we were just in the area and thought we would stop by for a coffee," I shrugged.

"Do you want to make it?" she asked.

"Sure," I nodded as Whitney walked through the door.

"Oh thank god," she sighed when she saw me.

"Is your boss being a pain?" I raised an eyebrow.

"He was fine this morning, then we had a double booking with important meetings because he has temporary receptionists, it was a mess and he couldn't even have coffee because you finish at 12," she vented.

"Do you want me to make a few?"

"Yes," she nodded.

"I can do it," Skye smiled, I think she was trying to help.

"It's fine," I shook my head.

"But you're not supposed to be working," she frowned.

"My boss won't drink the coffee unless it's made by her," Whitney shrugged.

"Then why did you come in, know she had finished her shift?"

"Because the coffee cake you guys have he loves, so I figured if he couldn't have coffee, the cake would be a fair substitute,"

"Guess who makes the coffee cake," I smirked.

"You're like some kind of coffee wizard," she laughed.

"Not really," I shook my head.

"Is it weird that I know your work schedule?" she laughed to herself.

"I think is weird that your boss only drinks my coffee," I shrugged.

"Oh I'm so sorry, can I get you anything?" Skye asked Sam who had sat in one of the waiting chairs.

"I've got it," I shook my head.

"Oh he's your boyfriend?" she raised an eyebrow. She had flirty eyes, I didn't like it, so instead of saying no.

"Yes," I stated seriously giving her a warning look. She backed down pretty quickly.

"I didn't think you had a boyfriend," Whitney hummed.

"Now you know, how many coffees do you want?"

"Can I have 3, no wait, four,"

"It's 2 in the afternoon, what does he need with four coffees?"

"He has to stay late to get stuff done, he has plans tomorrow and can't come I to the office," she shrugged.

"It must be nice having your own business and deciding when to work or not," I commented.

"I'm pretty sure he's going on a date his friend is setting him up,"

"Maybe he'll get laid and be less high strung"

"Here's hoping," she laughed.

"How about I get you some coffee cake too?"

"I love you," she laughed.

THEA

Sam and Charlie still weren't home at 6.30 so I was guessing that Charlie had just taken him with her to dance practice. I still hadn't asked her about coming to lunch but I was pretty sure I knew how I could get her there without actually asking g. She probably wouldn't be happy about it but from the photos I've seen of Mark, she'll be fine with it after a while.

It was almost 9 when o started cooking dinner. She would have finished practice at nine and it only takes about half an hour to drive from there to here.

I decided o making fried rice because it took a while to make and also Sam loves rice so I k ow he would eat it. He's been a little off food lately which for Sam is really weird but I guess with everything he's been through lately is a little expected.

He had been staying with us since his surgery because for starters is more sanitary here, and the boys would be any help with changing Sam's dressing, they would try but they would just mess around or be grossed out by it. Also, there was no way Charlie was going to let him out of her sights for a while. The other two tried to stay here too, but she just kicked them out.

"I smell rice," Sam exhaled as he walked through the door, followed by Charlie. Volk bolted down the hallway, instead of jumping up like he normally does he nudge his head against Sam's hand like he knew Sam was injured.

"Yes you do," I nodded turning the stove off.

"Great, I'm starving," he picked up a bowl.

"How did practice go?" I asked casually, he sort of shrugged but didn't actually answer. I looked over at Charlie who just shook her head as if to tell me to let it go.

"Do you want some?" I asked her.

"Do we have seaweed?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Duh," I waved the snack packets in the air.

"Then yes," she nodded.

I waited until we were sitting in the lounge room eating before I mentioned anything. That way it came out more casual and she wouldn't think that I was up to something.

"You have your dance show tomorrow night huh?"

"Yep,"

"What time do you have to be there?"

"5, why?" She frowned.

"I was just thinking that after the past few weeks we've had we could have a bit of a girls day, we could go see Kiwoo and get out hair done, you could get your nails done, maybe a bit of shopping and some food?"

"Don't call it a girls day," she shook her head.

"Dudes day?"

"It would save me having to do my hair and makeup," she nodded.

"And if you don't want to wear your stage outfit then you can just bring it I your bag," I shrugged.

"That would mean carrying a bag. Pass. But sure," she nodded.

"So we'll leave here at about 12 tomorrow?" I suggested.

"What am I supposed to do?" Sam frowned.

"We can drop you off at the bar?" I shrugged.

"Or at Haka's," Charlie mumbled.

"You really think I should do it?" He sighed.

"Yes, I do,"

"I'll think about it," he sighed.

SAM

"Can you guys drop me off at the bar on your way?" I asked.

"Sure," Charlie walked out of her room dressed in a fishnet bodysuit under a cropped top and short that wear barely visible under the shirt she had tied around her waist. Like, Damn. I mean she is always attractive, but when she is stage ready, I mean, wow.

     "Ready to go?" Thea followed.

"You're pretty dressed up for a girls day," I commented.

"What's the point in getting your hair and makeup done just to be wearing g shabby clothes?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Point taken," I nodded.

"Let's go," She chirped.

The dropped me off, asked me the usual motherly questions, well Thea did. Charlie just told me not to do anything stupid.

BM was stocking the shelves when I walked in, he seemed a little surprised to see me.

"Hey man, how did you get here?" He frowned.

"The girls dropped me off, they're heading I to Perth for a girls day," I shrugged.

"Sure they are," he laughed nodding.

"Seriously, that's what they're doing,"

"That's what Thea told Charlie they're doing,"

"I'm confused,"

"Thea is having lunch with that guy she's been talking too and she didn't want to go along e but she figured Charlie would just say no, this a girls day," he explained.

"Won't Charlie feel a little third wheeled?"

"He is bringing a friend too, but we all know how Charlie feels about being forced into something,"

"She gone be mad," Jae walked down the stairs.

"Should we text her?"

"She won't get it, she has a dance show today," Jae stated.

Charlie generally ignored all calls and texts when she had a show, mainly so she couldn't be called into work or something. If there was something important they would have Thea's number.

"I feel bad for the guy that has to deal with her," BM smirked.

"She's not that bad," I frowned.

"Are you kidding me? Not only is she being forced into something, shes being tricked into being forced. The attitude that guy is going to get,"

"And I bet you she is in her stage outfit because she's too stubborn to carry a bag," Jae stated.

It hadn't registered in my head that she was wearing her stage outfit, which wasn't really too different from what she normally wears, but she was showing more.

"What does that have to do with anything?" I frowned.

"Nothing really," he shrugged.

"Stop stirring the pot," BM shook his head.

"What?" Jae raised an eyebrow.

"So what brings you home?" BM turned to me.

"I just thought I would come and hang,"

"Right,"

"My lyric books are here," I said as I headed upstairs.

They were in a box under my bed, I had never been so glass to have a loft style bed. I slid the box over to the sitting area, also under my bed, and sat down.

CHARLIE

"Bitch, did you get a new job?" Eddy raised an eyebrow at me when we walked in.

"What are you trying to say?" He just pulled a face.

"She has a dance show tonight," Thea stated.

"No kidding," he laughed.

"Seriously?" Thea sighed.

"What?"

"Your friend is here," she pointed at Yuri.

"Why are you surprised?" I raised an eyebrow.

Yuri was best friends with MinSung, who also happened to be dating Kiwoo. Yuri noticed us as smirked walking over. Thea let out another sigh, she still wasn't over that face that he had slept with us both.

"Hey girls," he winked.

"Hey," I nodded.

"Yuri," Thea stated before walking away, he just let out a slight laugh.

"What brings you here?" He asked.

"What do you think?

"Dance show?" He raised an eyebrow looking me up and down.

"Yeah,"

"Maybe I should come," he shrugged.

"Hey," MinSung joined us.

"Hey," I nodded.

"You kind of look like a hooker,"

"And you're dressed kind of like a dick,"

"Oh, actually he is a dick," Yuri smirked.

"Charlie," Kiwoo smiled.

"Hey,"

"You two aren't bothering my clients are you?"

"Not just dressed like one then," Minsung joked.

"Shut up," I frowned.

THEA

"Go have lunch and get out of my salon," Kiwoo ushered them out.

"See you at home babe," Minsung kissed him.

"Where is mine?" Yuri puckered.

"You already had him once. He's mine now," Kiwoo playfully glared at him.

"You got told," I smirked.

"Yuri is kind of like you, he has slept with everyone," Charlie stated.

"Hey, we are nothing alike, besides Minsung has slept with more people in this room,"

"Not true, Yuri as slept with everyone we know in here except Kiwoo," she corrected me.

"Seriously?" I frowned at Eddy.

"Bitch, don't you come for me. You've seen him," he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah," I nodded.

"So what are we doing today?"

"I want something different, I don't know what but you know me," I shrugged.

"And you?"

"Colour fix, makeup and maybe my nails,"

"Let's get started,"

[kiruuuuu]

Me too, @ruaniamh. Me too :) Thank you so much for this request because I’ll gladly make Doc suffer some more! 💖 (Rating M, no mutual suffering cos Jäger is actually having a great time in this one, non-explicit sex, ~2.5k words)

.

“You look tired”, Blitz remarks right as Doc finishes his examination and earns himself a withering glare.

“Seems like your arm has healed. Maybe now you’ll think twice about engaging in any sport with the small word ‘ultimate’ in its title, even if it’s followed by ‘frisbee’. And yes, I am indeed tired”, Doc replies icily, “and you and your teammates are a large part as to why. Did you know I received a call last night about what I thought to be a medical emergency which turned out to be the impromptu funeral of a rabbit which wasn’t even dead? It must’ve taken a few sips from Bandit’s rum bottle because it showed very similar symptoms in that both of them were largely lethargic with spontaneous bouts of activity, if you can call running into a tree head first a hobby. With how often Bandit does it, I’d say it counts.”

“That’s exactly the reason why I’m mentioning it”, Blitz continues, incomprehensibly excited, “because we actually have a present for you. We pitched in together since you’ve done so much for us, went above and beyond, and we wanted to show you just how much we appreciate all that you’re doing.”

Oh. This is – unexpected. For a few blissful seconds in which the existence of a universe with frightfully idiotic special operators seems nothing but a fever dream, Doc is actually flattered and moved by the gesture. Then suspicion takes over. “…what is it?”

“You’ve been stressed recently and so we thought a vacation is just the thing you need.”

They’re not wrong, though admittedly, Doc could always use a vacation, he just normally doesn’t allow himself to take a rest, abandon his work and the people who count on him. Because as much as he likes to complain, he does genuinely believe they’re good, hard-working people who are able to change the world for the better and he’s proud to serve by their side, honoured for the opportunity to befriend this many compassionate, attentive -

“So we bought you a stay in an all-inclusive hotel in Spain. For an entire week!”

Doc just looks at the beaming German in front of him. He would’ve taken anything, anything, even the bitter cold of the arctic over having literally nothing to do. He likes to go hiking, explore cities and landscapes, and what he doesn’t enjoy is laying in the sun all day wasting away. “That’s uh -”, he starts and is interrupted by a cheery: “You’re welcome! And don’t bring too many books, I’m sure you’ll find enough to do once you’re there.”

And the last wink really should’ve made him realise what was going on.

.

“You”, Doc says loudly, loud enough to be audible over the busy chatter in the luxurious lobby, carpet thick, windows tall and spotless, pillars actual marble, and points at the person whom he’s addressing, “you. I – this… you are fucking kidding me. This isn’t happening. I’m out. I’m going fucking home. Jesus fucking Christ, what the fuck were they thinking?”

People have begun to stare and Jäger walks over, suitcase in tow, so Doc doesn’t have to yell anymore. “I’m pretty sure I can guess”, he replies and sounds entirely too upbeat about this whole disaster of a situation, “you know, Elias has been going on about you and me not showing enough affection to each other.”

So Blitz thought he’d play marriage counsellor. Great. Fan-fucking-tastic. Not only is everyone on the base still convinced the two of them are a couple, now they’re also meddling in their alleged affairs. Even though it’s only noon and Doc got enough sleep last night, he’s beginning to feel exhaustion weighing down his bones. “Did they really -” Book an expensive hotel for a week so Doc and Jäger could have some quality time together? The thought is too horrifying to actually say out loud.

Jäger shrugs and nods. “Seems that way, hm? I was confused why the lady behind the counter told me my ‘partner’ had arrived already.”

“I need something to drink.”

“Knock yourself out. It’s all inclusive.”

.

Doc does indeed knock himself out. He spends the first evening in the hotel bar, bemoaning his fate to everyone who doesn’t manage to get away fast enough and the first night hugging the really quite beautiful toilet while Jäger just giggles at him. He doesn’t seem any less intoxicated than Doc himself but apparently is more adept at holding his liquor – at least for a while. They somehow manage to take shifts in sleeping in their double bed (because of course they’re going to have to share a bed) and vomiting and they end up looking like zombies during breakfast. Blitz sends a text to Jäger about whether they’re enjoying their surprise and Doc only barely restrains himself from answering with a barrage of insults.

There really isn’t anything to do, so when Jäger goes to sleep off the food coma from the excellent breakfast buffet, Doc visits the beach and seeks shelter under a parasol where he tries to read one of the many books he brought until his eyes are falling closed as well. The sweltering heat together with the bright sun are headache inducing even through the painkillers he took pre-emptively this morning, and so he resorts to the one thing which never fails to help: dozing. It’s been a while since he was free from all obligations and duties and so he’s unlearned what to do when he’s not constantly anticipating the next emergency.

He’s awoken by a gentle touch to his hand and blinks groggily into the bright red fabric of the parasol which has miraculously moved to ensure he’s still in its shadow. Going by the fact that Jäger is now perched on another lounger next to him, it’s safe to assume he has to thank the German for saving him from the fate of ending up as red as a boiled lobster.

“Can you get my back? I want to go swimming in a bit.” Jäger holds out a bottle of sunscreen and switches over to Doc’s beach chair when he accepts it with a sigh. “Have you seen the dudes around here? It’s like a gay paradise. Pure eye candy.”

“You should’ve asked one of the prettier ones to smear sun cream all over you”, Doc grumbles as he rubs the cool lotion into the skin of Jäger’s back, barely resisting the urge to draw a dick on him first.

“I did. He’s currently at it.”

Doc snorts, amused for exactly as long as it takes for him to notice Jäger’s small moan while he’s massaging the back of his neck. A terrifying thought dawns on him. “Please tell me you don’t get horny when you’re bored.”

“Of course I do. What else is there to do? Just take a look around, there’s so many gorgeous guys wearing shockingly little and I bet they want to get away from their nagging fake husbands too.”

He pushes against Jäger’s shoulder blades, causing him to lean forward, and dips his hand into the back of his swimming trunks. Better safe than sorry – he once got a nasty sunburn right above his waistline and cursed himself for not being more careful. “I refuse to believe that anyone out there shares our fate. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. Also, if you fuck a stranger in our bed, I’m going to murder you in your sleep.”

“Alright, I’ll stay classy then and fuck them on a toilet or something. I saw you ogle that one brunette though and the same goes for you. No fucking with women in our bed, and if it’s a dude, you better invite me to join.”

“Is that really all there is to do here? Flirt with people?”

Jäger shrugs. “You can go for a swim with me.”

Their banter is oddly freeing. Because no matter how much Doc doesn’t want to be here in this hot hell, at least he’s not alone. He likes Jäger as a person and their mutual exasperation helped them bond even further – maybe he should change his perspective and view this week as a spontaneous holiday together with a friend. Yeah, he can do that. So he finds himself nodding. “Alright. Let’s go.”

“Wait, you should probably apply some sunscreen too. I’ll help.” And as Jäger’s hands gently dig into his muscles, causing him to hum in approval, Doc realises something about himself he didn’t know before. He also gets horny when he’s bored.

He’s just never been this bored before.

.

“Look, Gustave, you’re a great guy and I really enjoyed your company, but I have to be honest with you – I’m not the kind of person to encourage affairs”, the cute brunette woman tells him with a soft, regretful smile.

He blinks at her. It was perfect, they spent the better part of two hours talking, getting to know each other and making each other laugh. Hers is melodic and sweet, the lines in the corners of her eyes alluring and the fact that she’s actually successful and happy as a freelancer nothing but impressive. She’s caring and a great listener and - “What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen you with your husband. I’m sorry, but I don’t do this kind of thing. If you’re unhappy, I’m not the person with whom you should talk. He is.” And with a last squeeze of his hand, she vanishes into a different corner of the vast and uncomfortably dark bar, leaving Doc to put his head in his hands and take a deep breath.

Someone takes her place with a bitter grin which speaks of solidarity. “No luck either?”, Jäger asks.

“No. She also went right past couple and directly to marriage. Maybe we should stop hanging out together.”

“That only works if we’re not sleeping in the same room. Feel free to book one for yourself because I’m definitely staying for free.”

“Why so optimistic, did you actually manage to score a romantic public bathroom blow job?”

“Ah, not yet. But I’m still looking.” Jäger takes another sip from his brightly coloured drink as if he hasn’t had enough the previous night, and lets his gaze travel through the room, allowing for Doc to study him in peace. He’s actually not bad company, a bit immature at times but even Doc got caught up in splashing around in the sea earlier, and he entertained him by explaining exactly how he could take all the electronics in their room apart to construct a microwave, thus allowing him to microwave Nutella to the perfect consistency to eat it with a spoon directly out of the jar. Doc stated that he’d just need to put the jar out in the sun or change the thermostat in their room and Jäger called him a spoilsport in return. He really isn’t that bad. It could be worse.

“Marius”, he says pensively and is immediately granted Jäger’s full attention, “do you… want to go back to our room?”

He doesn’t understand at first, reacts with confusion at Doc’s odd tone of voice but once he gets it, his eyes widen. Nodding eagerly, he attempts to finish his drink and answer simultaneously, resulting in a coughing fit which leaves Doc grinning.

The grin fades as soon as they shut the door behind them.

They don’t even manage to undress fully before Doc is buried to the hilt, and so Jäger gets to try his hand at multitasking once more, this time pulling it off without a hitch: he’s riding, taking off his shirt and moaning filth at the same time while Doc grabs two handfuls of his plump backside and meets his movements, idly wondering just how thick the walls between rooms are.

.

It ends up being almost compulsive. They try their best to find other activities, join people they don’t know in beach volleyball or badminton, go swimming every day, take walks, browse the internet on their phones or on Jäger’s laptop, but there’s a surprising amount of hours in the day and some of them actually make it impossible to leave their air-conditioned room because they’re entirely too hot. So they really have no other choice.

Soon, the other guests’ reactions to merely seeing them span a wide range, among them outright disgust, knowledgable smirks and supportive smiles. One retiree even approaches them with a mischievous grin and lets them know he’d be up for a threesome if they’re looking, but Doc quickly sends him away before Jäger can even think about agreeing.

It happens more than once that Doc finds himself on their bed, Jäger entirely too loud while on his hands and knees before him with a frothing mixture of what Doc identifies to be his own come as well as the coconut oil they’ve grown fond of using dripping down his scrotum and he doesn’t even have the energy to be scandalised anymore. He’s accepted his fate by now, and if his fate is to survive a gruellingly carnal sex holiday, then so be it.

He’s stopped trying to correct people who call Jäger his husband. He even makes the mistake of signing a postcard his friend sends back to Hereford.

.

“So, how was your vacation?”, Blitz asks with a shit eating grin while they’re having lunch, sharing a curry IQ made which drew both the GSG9 as well as the GIGN operators together, resulting in six expectant faces turning to Doc and Jäger at the question.

“It was really fucking hot”, Jäger replies like an idiot and Doc wishes him physical harm.

“I bet it was”, Bandit mutters into his meal and earns a few snorts.

“You definitely look more relaxed than before”, Blitz takes over again, not wanting the conversation to derail this soon.

“Do I?” Doc certainly doesn’t feel more relaxed, his muscles are aching and his penis is still sore.

“Yeah, you’re positively glowing. So you both enjoyed yourselves?”

“Or each other, more like.” Bandit again. And that is it.

It can’t be that no one is taking Doc seriously, not when he stoops to actually holding a funeral speech for a fucking rabbit for his colleagues, not when he’s sweated and bled and worked himself raw for them. It’s ridiculous, absolutely absurd and, frankly, insulting. He can only imagine the reactions were he to actually start dating someone else and it’s bad enough he has to deal with his family thinking they’re together because they refuse to listen as well and why in the world is his dick hard. No, really. Why. This is probably the most inopportune -

“Did you make the curry with coconut milk?”, Jäger wants to know from IQ and judging by the vague panic in his expression, Doc surmises that he’s in a similar state. And oh. Does this mean he can never eat or smell coconut again without getting a boner? “I, uh, just need to go to the bathroom real quick.”

And while Jäger flees, Doc feels his own erection twitch in his pants. “Yeah”, he says distractedly, “me too.”

The snickering follows him all the way to the bathroom door and yet is soon forgotten. Seems like he’s not too tired for now.

[ontarioyoga]

What Is Vipassana Meditation Experience

New Post has been published on https://www.ontarioyoga.net/what-is-vipassana-meditation-experience/

What Is Vipassana Meditation Experience

The Back Story: How I First Learned Of Vipassana And Why I Put It Off For Years

Years ago our friend Jennie mentioned something about a silent meditation course retreat she’d taken. “It’s called Vipassana…ten days…no speaking…meditation…clear the mind…lots of traffic…it’s loud in the head…then peace.”

Those were among the tempting phrases and hooks I recall.

The term Vipassana means “to see things as they really are.” It’s a meditation method discovered by Gautama Siddhartha over 2,500 years ago.

S.N. Goenka, a Burmese man of Indian descent who one might say reintroduced Vipassana to the world in the 1970s, opened the first centers. Today, there are more than 190 Vipassana centers around the world. His instructions and lessons are played during the course, the structure of which is identical regardless of the location: 10 days of silence, meditation from 4:00 A.M. and 9:00 P.M. with breaks for meals and rest in between.

Audrey and I were both sold on the idea, but I felt I had some physical impediments to overcome, including an inability to properly sit cross-legged. I could not fold my right leg in; I always sat leaning to the right or with my right leg kicked out. Whenever I visited a Buddhist temple during my travels, I was invariably whose feet pointed in transgression at the Buddha, the altar, or the monks.

I never characterized myself as someone with chronic pain. When you have it, chronic pain is something you just learn to live with.

If I waited until I felt “ready” I’d never go.

Yes, this.

It was time.

Wait What Is The Purpose Of A Silent Meditation Retreat And Why Should I Do One

No speaking, no distractions, and a very uncomfortable living situation. Why would anyone do a 10 day meditation course under these conditions? The point of all this is to create an environment that is conducive to introspection and that will test your limits. And don’t worry, you don’t have to sleep on a straw mattress like I did.

A meditation retreat for beginners is the perfect way to kickstart your regular meditation practice. You will have the opportunity to learn a meditation technique in depth and have direct insight on how to overcome common obstacles. In any case, I recommend you get started BEFORE your retreat and start meditating at home.

Can I Take The Vipassana Course With A Spouse Partner Boyfriend Or Girlfriend

The intent of the course is to focus on oneself, so the idea that you are taking the course with someone else or you have “company” becomes irrelevant once the course begins. In fact, it may be distracting.

Ideally, you and your partner set off at the same time and attend different centers and return together with a comparable, yet personal and differentiated experience. And most importantly, a new, shared vocabulary.

What Should You Take Into Account When Choosing A Silent Meditation Retreat

A good resource to find a Vipassana meditation course near you is the dhamma.org website. Keep reading for all my tips for finding good Vipassana meditation retreats:

Don’t overthink it, if you want to do a retreat, you found one that you resonate with, and the timing is right, go for it! It will be hard in any case and will bring you way outside your comfort zone, but you won’t regret it.

I hope you enjoyed reading about my Vipassana review and mindfulness meditation course and I motivated you to do a meditation retreat! Have you done a retreat before? How did you pick it? Share your meditation retreat experience!

You can follow me on and connect with me.

Before you go, don’t forget to get the meditation mini-course!

My Exhausting Meditation Retreat: 10 Days Of Vipassana Silence And Spiders

I went to New Zealand to break my brain and put it back together, without ever having meditated before. I had no idea what I was in for

Last modified on Wed 20 Sep 2017 19.28 BST

I signed up for a Vipassana course in a moment of quiet desperation. I was coming up on close to a year of insomnia. I found myself exhausted by the anxiety of not sleeping, yet unable to find any meaningful rest. For the first time in my life I was having panic attacks. Nightly, they were triggered by the dawning realization that sleep would elude me yet again.

I was also dealing with chronic pain. A bad accident as a kid followed by a series of rib fractures and back injuries over the years generated a state of permanent hurt made worse with the lack of sleep and an excess of cortisol.

I chose this specific course, which took place in New Zealand, because despite the trendiness of meditation classes and apps, Vipassana seemed to be about equanimity, discipline and hard work – right up my alley. I am not the most woo woo of humans, and the idea of a giant drum circle of positive thinkers made me want to run away screaming.

I told my friend I wanted to break my brain and put it back together again

While descended from Buddhism, the modern-day courses are secular in nature. The father of these retreats is the late , who was raised in Myanmar and learned Vipassana from monks there.

She disagreed.

“No, it’s like running a marathon having never run before. Jodi are you doing to yourself?”

Where I Took My Course: The Dhamma Malaya Vipassana Center In Malaysia

I’m going to resist keeping this place a secret, all to myself. I thought the center and its facilities were excellent. I had my own room, for which I was grateful.

Having said all that, the center is not luxurious, nor is it supposed to be. It’s not a spa. It’s basic. Your ten days are to be lived simply.

For me, taking the course in the hot season was great. I could pack very light . Additionally, all that I achieved physically was helped along greatly by the stretching I’d done, which I find becomes much easier in the heat.

So Sober Its Psychedelic My Vipassana Meditation Retreat Experience Dec 30, 2019

I can’t remember the first time I decided I wanted to sit in a room and meditate silently for ten days. I only remember meeting people again and again who I respected and admired who spoke highly of their experiences.

Like any self-development junkie, I was eager to sample all the different strains of self work. Vipassana was attractive to me because it offered the purest base level of the human experience.

No mantras, no words, no coaches, no incantations, no self talk or weird breathing — just you and your breath and your body, silent and still for ten days.

My justification boiled down to “I’m gonna be stuck in a room with myself for the rest of my life, so I might as well see what that’s like without anyone else in it.”

The trouble was finding the time — ten days is a long time in the modern world of scant vacation days and cheap international flights. I had signed up twice in years past only to cancel a few weeks later after other plans arose.

This August, I managed to stick to my reservation during a period of unemployment which coincided with the week of Burning Man, when half my social circles were already offline anyways.

I remember reading their packing list and uneasily noticing all the things I normally packed for trips that weren’t coming this time: sunscreen, fun clothing, Kindle, computer, snacks, toys, the list went on.

Vipassana Meditation : A Candid Review Of What To Expect By Ankita S

What does the 10-days Vipassana Meditation feel like? Here’s a candid experience of what to expect from this profound spiritual retreat.

The secrets of the universe and its working has amazed me since childhood! And somehow, my gut instinct always asked me to get into meditation, though I ignored its whisper. However, I was forced to listen to it once I had some severe health complications. This finally led me to explore the hidden world of Vipassana meditation. And here’s my experience.

I don’t know why I expected some magic to see once I started meditating. Though there were moments of peace, and calm, I was looking for something else, something more maybe! And that led me to explore Vipassana through a retreat.

Do You Have To Stay Silent For 10 Days During A Meditation Retreat

Yes, you can’t speak during a silent meditation retreat, but I felt this was the best part of it! When was the last time you didn’t speak for a full day? If you can’t remember, that’s normal, we are always speaking. Afraid you won’t be able to wait to share your stories and experience during your retreat? There are often regular “office hours” with teachers and a time to share at the end. You’ll also make a LOT of eye contact with other participants.

But silent means also silent from distractions to create space for self-discovery and awareness. So no phones, computers, books, writing… Yes, no Instagram for 10 days.

I had done yoga retreats, and spent tech-free time in nature before, but never to such an extent. There are so many distractions in our everyday lives and it feels so good to have no way of checking in with the outside world. This was the perfect digital detox experience for me and since then, most of my notifications are off and I am more aware of my tech usage.

What Is Vipassana Meditation A Beginners Guide To Getting Started

A lot of people have major misconceptions about what meditation is and how it can be practiced in a way that makes you happy. I’m not talking about sitting on the floor with your legs crossed, chanting “Ommm.” I’m talking about Vipassana meditation which has been practiced for thousands of years in the Buddhist tradition.

The word “Vipassana” literally means “to see things as they truly are.” It’s a form of meditation that involves sitting cross-legged, focusing on your breath, and silencing all other distractions – no technology or reading allowed! Read more to learn about how this practice can change your life.

Ultimately Vipassana Meditation Technique Is About Seeing Reality

To see reality, we practice paccakkha, which means “perceptible to the senses”. In other words, we see things as their sensory experience. 

I personally like the explanation given by Henepola Gunaratana. He said that Vipassana is about “Looking into something with clarity and precision, seeing each component as distinct and separate”.

Think about it like this. At any given time, you have different thoughts, sensations, and feelings flowing through your mind. However, most of the time, you are likely too distracted to perceive these thoughts clearly. And so, they go on while you are largely unconscious of them.

Vipassana meditation enables us to see thoughts, sensations, and feelings for what they are, for their sensory experiences. This gives us power over them, so we are less reactive, less emotional, and more in control.

The method is currently in vogue, riding on the back of the mindfulness movement. And that’s a good thing because it is one of the best Buddhist meditations.

 Although it is a serious method, beginners can practice vipassana at home.

Are You Allowed To Exercise Or Do Yoga During A Vipassana Course

Simply put, no. We were advised not to do any other form of exercise during the course. I thought this would be difficult for me, as I am used to doing some kind of physical exercise daily. After a few days, I was fine with it. I didn’t have the energy to do anything else but walk to and from my room to the meditation hall to the dining hall. During the breaks, we were allowed to walk around the center grounds, which were actually very beautiful and peaceful. The center that I went to in Triebel, Germany had small areas blocked off where we could wander in the woods and in a small field with a pond. It was nice and refreshing to be out in nature and truly made me realize how much I was missing out on in my daily life by just blocking out all the sensations of sight and sound by wearing headphones on my way to work and other appointments. You just stop noticing everything and block out the noise, replacing it with other noise.

What Is Vipassana Meditation Top 4 Benefits + How To Practice It

February 9, 2020

Health Benefits

When it comes to meditation, there are many ways to do it. What is the Vipassana meditation technique , and how does it differ from other types?

Vipassana means “to see things as they really are.” This practice, described as an “art of living,” dates back at least 2,500 years to ancient India.

Similar to mindfulness meditation, it involves training one’s mind through completion of certain exercises in order to increase awareness of one’s own experiences.

Although this form of meditation has been practiced in the U.S. since the 1960s, in recent years the popularity of Vipassana meditation retreats and courses has skyrocketed. Thousands of people attend Vipassana classes each year in hopes of “seeing the true nature of existence,” better managing stress, and improving their focus, productivity, relationships and health.

How Were Your First And Second Course Different From One Another

Facility comparison

My first time was at Dhamma Bhumi in NSW, Australia which is an official centre and the second time in Markopoulo was a non-centre and so having one meditation room that is used exclusively for Vipassana meditation 365 days a year holds a much more powerful and supportive/ inspiring energy than a centre that is used for other activities/ purposes for most of the year.

Official centres tend to have better facilities too but in Australia, for example, there is a pagoda facility for old students to meditate in, with small individual dark rooms. Because they own the land, more can be invested in the centre and indeed, it often is.

Humble living: you will be living like a monk/ nun— on the charity of others. These ‘free’ retreats are not like your lavish 2000$ vacation retreats, you are here to live humbly, and do the work. Materialism ain’t no thing here, so leave your ego at the door and find deep gratitude for how purely this organization is run.

Food comparison

It was great at both centers, but the Aussie location .

Water comparison

We drank tap water in Australia and it tasted so bad that I could only drink tea to mask the taste. I would fill my glass water bottle with tea and drink that throughout the day hot or cold because the taste of chlorine, etc, made me yelped for joy when they announced it.

New student vs. old student: a few differences between being a new .

Are You Allowed To Write Or Journal During Vipassana Meditation

I was hoping the answer to this question would be yes, but again, it was a no. I’m still not sure why, but I think it’s mainly because you’re supposed to keep all the ideas, thoughts, and emotions in your own head. If you write them down on paper, they escape you, and it prevents you from really confronting anything. This was also difficult for me at the start, as I tend to journal pretty regularly. The adjectives I can remember now off the top of my head are pain, discomfort, progress, bliss, boredom, anger, determination, and calm.

Vipassana Meditation Technique Is All About Cultivating Insight

When you practice Vipassana meditation you are creating insight into true reality. Specifically, insight into anicca , which are the “three marks of existence” in Theravada Buddhism. Also, sunyata, which is “emptiness” in Mahayana Buddhism.

Let me explain the “three marks of existence”:

Dukkha : We all feel Dukkha. It is the idea that life doesn’t give us what we want and that everything is always changing. Because we never experience complete satisfaction, we always feel Dukkha.  

Anatta : This is the idea that there is no fixed soul, no fixed sense of self. We are always changing.  

Anicca : This is simply the observation that everything is always changing.  

What Is Vipassana The Technique The Retreats And The Philosophy

July 21, 2021

Vipassana, or insight meditation as the practice is also known, has enjoyed widespread popularity in recent years, with many people attending the gruelling ten-day courses that are available across the globe.

Like many of the popular techniques of meditation that have found their way to the west, Vipassana is a traditional Buddhist practise that has been taught in India for thousands of years, possibly since the time of Buddha.

The Vipassana technique aims to teach the meditator about the true nature of reality through direct experience of the body, feelings and mind.

Did I Have Any Magical Experiences During My Vipassana Retreat

Before I decided to book my Vipassana, I had read many blogs on it, and people talked about how they healed from backache, migraine in just 10 days.

While I did not expect my health issue to get resolved in just 10 days, I did expect ‘something’, a little magic maybe. And that happened on the third day!

In the afternoon when I was concentrating on my breath, I felt my right hand shaking. It’s easy to distinguish between a shaking due to weakness, and shaking due to something more powerful.

As I saw it, I was scared from the meditation experience. I guess fear was not needed at that moment. Because the moment I was afraid, the experience stopped! I kept feeling magical for the next many minutes.

And I can assure you that it was the latter. I experienced that ‘something more powerful’ in my right hand. When I l opened my eyes to look at what’s happening, it was still shaking, and nothing was not in my control.

When I told my teacher about that experience, she said, ‘Observe it!’

Well, her reply did not make me happy at that time, but now that I see it, that’s what Vipassana is all about. Observing.

Was it easy?? No, it was not!

Along with the few magical moments I had, there were a few painful moments too. Like on the seventh day, I could feel the heat inside my body. My stomach and lung area had some fire as if it would burn me from inside.

Why You Should Practice Vipassana Meditation Technique At Home

Many people make a huge mistake when meditating: They practise at retreats.

You are far better off learning how to do Vipassana meditation technique at home.

Why?  Because most of the stimuli that affect you are at home.

Loud voices

If you’re in the city, the constant noise

Vipassana meditation technique teaches us to be less reactive to those stimuli. But to train the mind effectively, we must meditate where those things occur.

Buddha did not isolate himself in a beautiful hall where there were no distractions and no unpleasantness. He sat in the forest, in the village, even around death. Only by exploring his mind in these everyday environments could he liberate himself.

Today we want to be free from the negative aspects of home, work, and, you know, life. If you want to truly liberate your mind, meditate in your everyday life.  

Day 0: Arriving At The Center And Meeting My Fellow Meditators

For day 0, participants were told to arrive for check-in between 2pm and 5pm before a dinner would be served at 6pm.

On my way to the meditation center, I met my first co-meditator. To my surprise, he was a completely normal guy – no long beard, no hippie glasses, no sandals, no flower necklace, no peace tattoo.

I was positively surprised and we hit it off right away. He was about my age, a serial entrepreneur, an avid reader, and an overall cool dude.

Even better, he had very little previous experience with meditation and was simply there because a friend had recommended it to him. “Phew,” I thought, “there’s no way this guy is better prepared than I am. What a relief! I won’t be the only one struggling.”

Upon arrival at the center, we were told to fill out some required paperwork and to hand in our smartphones and other non-allowed items. After that, I made my way to the room I got assigned for the next ten days. One of my three roommates was already there as I entered – another down-to-earth, intelligent, and cool dude. One roommate after the other arrived and we had a great chat before heading for the dining hall for our last dinner in ten days.

These first meetings with my co-meditators really quenched my nerves and boosted my optimism for the coming ten days. These were normal people just like me. They had no idea what to expect either. And they were just as excited/anxious as I was.

This Is What Happened After 100 Hours Of Meditation In 10 Days

Imagine, for a moment, being whisked away to a large, nondescript building amongst the rolling hills of the British countryside. Upon arrival, you are stripped of your belongings. No phone, no books, no pen, no paper. You are left with nothing but your clothes and toiletries. Then, for the next 10 days, you wake up at 4:30 a.m. and complete 10 hours of meditation, every day. You’re not allowed to talk to anyone other than your teacher, and there’s no eye contact or bodily contact allowed. 

What I’ve just described may sound like a literal hell to some, but for me, it was a welcomed escape from the hyperstimulation of my day-to-day activities. I finally had time to go completely inwards and work on overcoming the cravings and aversions of my mind. Surprisingly, tens of thousands of people across the world, from all walks of life, sign up for these 10-day vipassana meditation courses every year.

The most recent course I attended ran over the New Year’s holiday period, which, for most people, is a time when they reflect on the past year and make “resolutions” for changing their habits or behaviour during the coming year. But I feel that without going inwards, it’s pretty tricky to actually figure out what has been draining your energy and holding you back, making it impossible to know what you really need to change about yourself. This is why I went back to attend my second course. You learn more about yourself every single time. 

What Happens During A Vipassana Meditation Retreat:internally

Although the structure of the course is a set structure, what goes on is a whole other story. You are going to have your own experience, but I’ll share a few of mine because from what I hear— many people have similar experiences.

FYI this is where sesame seeds come from .

Crazy ass thoughts: Honestly I brought myself to tears of silent laughter at some of the thoughts that came up while in meditation. Things like where do sesame seeds come from? Or wondering what my arm hair looks like and how weird it is women shave their legs but not their arms. Also why does leg/arm/ eyebrow hair only grow to a certain length but hair on the head grows indefinitely? May times I imagined myself singing along to the chanting in my head and imaging myself perform in a full blown bollywood music video. Like total madness. The key is that when you catch yourself going down one of these rabbit holes, go back to your breath . It’s impossible to completely eradicate your monkey brain, but when you catch yourself don’t continue to indulge, and get back to work.

Understanding The Physical Requirements Of A Vipassana Course

If the thought of sitting cross-legged seems physically daunting and too painful to bear, there’s the possibility of using back rests or even a chair. In other words, your perceived physical limitations should not deter you from taking the course.

And know this: I did it. Sure, I was athletic and ran road races and climbed mountains. But I could barely touch my knees, let alone my toes. And you already know about my fusilli pasta spine.

Despite that, I’m glad I toughed it out on the ground on my meditation cushion, for I’m almost certain I wouldn’t have achieved the results — physical, mental, or emotional — had I done otherwise. During the course, you have 10 days to experiment and plumb the depths of what you can withstand and achieve.

What Is Vipassana Meditation Also Known As Insight Meditation

Before we get into the details of vipassana meditation, some important background about how this practice ties into the story of Headspace: In his early twenties, co-founder Andy Puddicombe left his Sports Science studies and became a Buddhist monk. For over 10 years, he studied meditation in Nepal, India, Burma, Thailand, Australia, and Russia.

After leaving the monastery with a desire to make meditation more mainstream, Andy arrived in London, which is where Headspace was first born, delivering meditations and teachings rooted in both the Burmese and Tibetan Buddhist traditions, while remaining true to the lineage that first inspired the app.

All Headspace meditation techniques incorporate elements of both “Samatha” meditation, though some of the technique names have changed from their original translation to help make them more accessible. The guided meditations in the Headspace app make meditation easy to understand and follow, even if you are completely new to the practice. Additionally, all Headspace meditations and exercises have an altruistic intention at their core, ensuring that both awareness and compassion are being trained at the same time.

You do not need to know and understand the background of Vipassana or Buddhist meditation in order to use the Headspace app to meditate. However, if you are interested in learning more about Vipassana meditation, read on.

Start your free trial

The Benefits of Vipassana aka Insight Meditation

Vipassana Meditation Technique: Everything You Need To Know

In this guide, we will look at how to do Vipassana meditation technique at home. We’ll cover the Vipassana meditation script and its benefits.  

As a meditation teacher, I personally use this method for twenty minutes every single day. And it is also one of the main methods I teach in my online meditation lessons. Spiritually speaking, it is a vital method on the pathway to enlightenment. 

From my personal experience and my experience teaching this method, I can say that it seriously helps with health and happiness. Because it gives insight into the mind, it helps us control thoughts and feelings.  

Many people learn Vipassana meditation at retreats. However, in my experience, it is better to do Vipassana at home. When you practise Vipassana meditation at home you gain insight into your mind in your day-to-day life. 

Let me show you how to do Vipassana at home. And you might like to read my awesome guide to Buddhist Meditations.

Vipassana Meditation: An Experience Of The Power Of Silence

Our world is a very noisy place, both externally and internally. Externally, the sounds of various machines, technologies, and gadgets are all around us, such as cars, radios, blenders, TVs, smartphone notifications, and you name it. Internally, our minds are in constant states of chaotic thinking and ruminating that prevent us from experiencing true peace and silence.

Noise does not need to be a negative thing, but it can be when there is no silence to balance it out. So what if we were to step away from some of this noise, if only for a bit? Would we act differently? Think differently? Experience life differently? Would we perhaps allow a deeper clarity into our life? Deeper insight? A deeper knowing?

Moving away from the noise and into more silence, which normally births more mindful thinking and awareness can be highly transformational. In our Western world, we normally think of meditation when we wish to experience such states of being. However, in other cultures periods of silence and mindful awareness are a natural part of each day that help to balance out our mind, body, and spirit.

#5 Start Meditating At Home Before You Go For The Retreat

If you are new to meditation, and you want to start by going to this retreat, you are doomed. It will be very tough, and most probably you will leave the course in between.

Until and unless you haven’t practiced any kind of meditation at home previously, I won’t advise you to go for this intense practice.

Maybe you can start practicing at home 3-6 months prior to registration. This way sitting one hour continuously for a session won’t be tough. Here are to get you started with your home practice.

A Little Reflection Vipassana Meditation: Was It Worth It

In the months and years since I took a ten-day Vipassana Meditation course in Nepal,  friends and readers have asked me to share my thoughts, now that I have distance from the experience. I jotted a few sparse notes during the course, and journaled on Day Eleven to chronicle my ten-days in a Vipassana course. Those entries shared the raw thoughts and feelings as I processed each day of meditation and course teachings. During the course, I was deep in the middle of the pain and difficulty. There was little room for reflection.

How to Apply to a Vipassana Course:

An Arachnophobe Walks Into A Vipassana Meditation Course

When I was two, a family member took me to see Raiders of the Lost Ark. I had nightmares about spiders for years, waking up screaming in the middle of the night. My arachnophobia has never waned, and I am ashamed to admit that it has dictated some of my travel plans.

Before the meditation course began I worried about the long days of silence. I did not worry about spiders. This was a mistake. The course was on a bird sanctuary outside Auckland, and I arrived only to find that spiders carpeted the wooden buildings, inside and out.

When you take a Vipassana course, you agree to abide by five precepts: no killing, no stealing, no lying, no sexual misconduct and no intoxicants. No writing, no talking, no eye contact, no communicating.

At the end of day one, I noticed a daddy longlegs struggling on the carpet but heading toward the door. I reached for the course schedule, only to realize I was about to kill something with a document that says you won’t kill anything.

Instead, I took a deep breath, skirted around the creature, and opened my door. I stood there silently cheering its departure from my room.

In the meditation hall, daddy longlegs dropped from the ceiling, feeding my anxiety. Huge black spiders dotted the corner of the room where we picked up our pillows, watching over us as we shuffled into yet another meditation session.

I fantasized about flinging off my pillows and running through the hall, screaming like a banshee

It was progress.

Day 6 To 9 Equanimity And Determination Put To The Test

On the 6th day, I woke up sick. My throat hurt, my head throbbed painfully and my nose was clogged. I had a cold and couldn’t distract myself from it. I had to meditate through it.

The meditations were very hard and paying to my sensations made them seem a worse. I had no trouble feeling sensations every part of my body, but I couldn’t maintain equanimity. My cold bothered me, especially when coughing during the group meditations. I barely managed to stay still for more than about 15 minutes during the “meditations of strong determination”.

I slowly made it through the day, but my condition wasn’t improving. I made it clear to myself that I wasn’t leaving the Vipassana course. Unpleasant sensations were not going to win!

On day 7, I was feeling even worse. Despite this, I was strangely enthusiastic at the idea of meditating through my bad feelings and saw the cold more as a challenge and opportunity than an enemy.

“Okay, I know I have a cold and stuff, but if I’m able to meditate through it without judging it, I’ll be able to go through a lot of other things, so I have to do it!”

“These are only sensations, these are only sensations…”

*Watches sensations, start perceiving them in an objective way*

“YEAH! I’m doing it, %?/* YOU, COLD!”

*Loses peace of mind, sensations become overwhelming*

“Ah, crap. Back to square one!”

When I woke up the next morning, there was absolutely no trace of my cold.

What Is Vipassana Meditation And How Can You Practice It

Affiliate disclosure: Some of the links below are affiliate links, meaning, at no additional cost to you, I will earn a commission if you click through and make a purchase. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

You might have ever heard of  meditation. It’s a kind of meditation practice that’s often talked about amongst meditation practitioners and gaining popularity in the world.

More and more people are interested in vipassana meditation and eager to learn and try it out. That’s one of the reasons for its gaining popularity. Nowadays, vipassana retreats are conducted regularly around the world.

What is vipassana meditation? What’s so unique about it?

Those are the questions I get asked a lot.

My first vipassana retreat was back in 2009. Since then, I’ve attended several more. I’m a big fan of it. And, I’ve been practicing daily ever since.

So, in this post, I’ll share with you what I’ve been learning so far to answer those questions as best as I can, what vipassana meditation is, and how you can practice it.

Vipassana is a term often translated as insight or clear-seeing.

It is deeply rooted in the Buddhist tradition.

But, because of its universal essence, its practitioners come from many different spiritual and religious backgrounds. That’s the fact I always found in retreats I attended. A lot of the participants I met are not Buddhist.

You don’t need to be a Buddhist to practice vipassana.

We practice not clinging to and not rejecting any object.

Difference Between Vipassana & Other Forms Of Meditation

The Buddhist Meditation practices are mainly of two forms – and . While Vipassana is based on insight or clear awareness, Samatha includes concentration or mental focus.

Vipassana is insight meditation whereas Samatha is a meditation of tranquility.

The most common types of meditation are based on Samatha. In this form, the meditator will focus on types of meditative objects of meditation such as – images, chants, particular items, prayers, or a candle flame to clear the mind.

To master Vipassana it takes years of practice. The meditator achieves a state in which he is not perturbed by any external influences.

Studies have shown both of these forms help the meditator to quiet their minds and improve their mental capacity. The ultimate goal for all forms of meditation is liberation. It is the stage when the spiritual transformation is complete.

What Is It Like On The Other Side Of A Vipassana Course

The course kicked my ass. Raw feelings bubbled up throughout the intense ten days. I started the course cautious and fearful of what it would be like. Then I had anger and resentment during the middle. By the final day, I swelled with well-being and happiness.

I feel proud that I was able to complete the course. This was one of the hardest obstacles in my life to complete. Growing up I was a dilettante. And while usually that’s one of the cornerstones of being a child—experimenting, learning, and discovering new interests—changing interests so frequently impacted my personal self-views. I have always considered myself a quitter.

Back in the day, I loved synchronized swimming. I even won state and national awards. Then I quit that and moved onto tap dancing. Tap wasn’t as fun as jazz, which then gave way to pottery. Then there was that brief stint in ballet, then Irish dance, followed by several years of piano lessons. I dabbled in art, more styles of dance, and went back to competitive Irish dance in high school. All that took a backseat to theatre—the only thing I stuck with. Until I didn’t; I left my LA acting career to travel the world.

And in staying, I proved to myself that I was strong enough to honor my commitment.

Many have wondered if I kept Vipassana as a part of my life. Do I still practice the technique, which requires two hours a day of silent meditation?

Vipassana: My Experience With Serene Meditation Retreat

Jun 1, 2020·4 min read

Vipassana meditation retreat was a transformative experience of my life. In the midst of life’s struggles and personal crisis, I found this gift of meditation.

Vipassana has brought equilibrium and serenity to my cluttered mind. It has been more than a year I have been practicing meditation regularly and attended three courses so far.

Although nothing in my life has changed miraculously since I started Vipassana, I have control over the level of stress and no signs of anxiety. I struggled with migraines for a few years until I started meditating religiously. Vipassana has made migraines a rare occurrence which troubled me often before last year.

Vipassana has healed my mind and made life better. And with more meditation practice, I look for a meaningful journey ahead. It is worth emphasizing that meditation is a personal experience, and the outcomes can be unique and relative if not similar for every practitioner.

The ten day course

At Vipassana meditation center, the day starts with a wake-up bell ringing at 4 AM, and meditation begins at 4:30 AM. The day ends around 9 PM after approximately ten hours of meditation and discourse by the guru in the evening.

Anapana and Vipassana

Mind is constantly wandering in the past and future than focusing on the present. Living in the present and observing the breath is the first step to calm the mind for Vipassana. The ten-day course starts with meditation, and starts fourth day onwards.

Meditate and be happy

Why Did I Immerse Myself Into An Environment Of Silence

People attend Vipassana courses for many different reasons. I met people who looked for ways to overcome their addictions, others longed to solve their sleeping disorders. For me, I was eager to get a deeper understanding of meditation and learn more about myself. As someone who is always looking for new challenges and opportunities for growth, this seemed like the perfect environment to spend my Christmas break.

Over time, I had come across a number of people who shared their Vipassana experience with me, inspiring me to find out for myself what it is all about. So eventually, I felt the call to embark on this journey and signed up for a women’s-only retreat that took place over the Christmas period in the hinterland of the Sunshine Coast in Queensland, Australia. While I already had some experience in meditation, I didn’t really know what to expect in the upcoming 10 days, far away from civilisation.

Disclaimer: Nothing You Read Here Will Do This Justice

Both the Buddha and Goenka stress the importance of direct experience, which is a welcome change from other gurus preaching their truth as the only true way. They explicitly say “Take this and try it on and see if it works for you — but don’t believe it until you’ve lived it yourself.” There are even 3 different types of wisdom in Buddhism to relate to these — known, believed, and lived.

Vipassana and Buddhism are all about living truly present in the moment, without cravings, aversions, ignorance, memories, expectations, or future plans. So remember that everything you read here may make your meditation that much harder in the moment: “Wait, I’m not experiencing what Corey experienced!”.

If you’re anything like me though, you’ll read on anyways, as I did all the blog posts of those who came before me, and I still had a great time. So let’s go!

Did You Microdose While There Or Take Any Psychedelics

I considered it, but no, I did not and I will not. It’s a rule not to take any drugs, and although I don’t consider it a “drug” — psilocybin alter your state of consciousness. The reason I wanted to microdose while there was to lower my sensory gate perception, because mushrooms do that, and a key part of Vipassana is the ability to feel subtle sensations on the body. It no doubt help, but the more important part of Vipassana is observing life as it it, not as you wish it were. So, in weighing the pros and cons, it was quickly clear to me that using any external ‘aids’ to achieve deeper states of meditation was actually completely against the purpose and would set me back. You want to honour where you’re at in that moment, and watch your success come from doing the work.

Learn more about microdosing

Registering For The Course An Unexpected First Hurdle

I expected registration for a course to be a quick and hassle-free process. I was wrong. In the end, it took approximately 7 months from decision to do a course until actually enrolling and participating in one.

You see, Vipassana courses are popular. Much more popular than I thought. Registration to 10-day courses usually opens three months before the course starts and it’s not uncommon that courses fill up within a few days of opening up registration.

And it’s not like these courses take place 3x per month. It’s more like one course every 4-6 weeks. Long story short, I missed out on courses a couple of times until I finally managed to register on time and get accepted for the course from sep-19 to sep-30.

Why Did I Choose To Participate In A Vipassana Course

Before we get to my detailed experience of the ten-day retreat, I want to give you an understanding of why I chose to go through this in the first place. People go on such retreats for numerous different reasons. For me, the main reason was the proven scientific track record of meditation.

And by track record I mean the science-backed benefits of meditation. According to books and articles I’ve read on the topic, some of those benefits include:

Improved immune function, decreased inflammation, many other improved health markers

Decreased anxiety, depression, stress

Increased positive emotions, decreased negative emotions, more happiness

Improved relationships, increases in social connection, less feelings of loneliness

Improved focus and attention, memory, creative thinking

Improved self-control, emotion regulation, concentration, introspection

Meditation has been shown in multiple studies to physically alter the structures of your brain, increasing grey matter, growing cortical thickness, and increasing volume in areas related to self-control, emotion regulation, positive emotions, and paying attention.

If you’re interested in living a healthy, happy, successful, and fulfilling life, there’s hardly a better use of your time than meditation. I’ve said on numerous occasions that mindfulness is the #1 skill anyone can learn in life – and mindfulness is best cultivated through the practice of meditation.

Spiritual Benefits Of Vipassana Meditation Technique

Vipassana meditation has significant spiritual benefits. In fact, it is the best meditation for gaining insight into the true nature of reality. 

When we practise Vipassana meditation technique daily we gradually awaken.  

Plus, when you learn how to do Vipassana meditation , you will notice what’s going on inside your mind while you’re living your everyday life. In fact, doing Vipassana at home is better than doing it at a retreat.  When you practise at a retreat you only see what’s going on in your mind when you’re at the retreat. That’s not very useful! Contrastingly, gaining insight into your mind in your everyday life is invaluable. And that is why you’re smart for learning how to do Vipassana meditation at home.

Part 3 Of 3:overcoming Distractions While Meditating

“smallUrl”:”https:\/\/www.wikihow.com\/images\/thumb\/6\/6e\/Perform-Insight-Meditation-Step-9.jpg\/v4-460px-Perform-Insight-Meditation-Step-9.jpg”,”bigUrl”:”\/images\/thumb\/6\/6e\/Perform-Insight-Meditation-Step-9.jpg\/aid6822382-v4-728px-Perform-Insight-Meditation-Step-9.jpg”,”smallWidth”:460,”smallHeight”:345,”bigWidth”:728,”bigHeight”:546,”licensing”:”<div class=\”mw-parser-output\”><p>License: <a target=\”_blank\” rel=\”nofollow noreferrer noopener\” class=\”external text\” href=\”https:\/\/creativecommons.org\/licenses\/by-nc-sa\/3.0\/\”>Creative Commons<\/a><br>\n<\/p><p><br \/>\n<\/p><\/div>”1Focus briefly on distractions. Whenever there is an outside noise, any sort of disturbance, you should consciously and immediately focus awareness towards that sound. Just as you labeled the rising and falling of the abdomen, label the exterior sound in your mind.XResearch source

The process can be free of thought, just allowing the mind to focus on the surroundings. If you’re distracted, refocus on your breathing until you can establish a calm understanding of smaller sounds around you.

Tips On Getting Started With Vipassana Meditation:

To get started with Vipassana Meditation, you can work with me or you can begin to practice on your own, below are some tips to get you started.

– Choose a time when you’ll be able to practice consistently

– Prepare your space. Find a room in your house that can be designated for meditation only, and keep it free of distractions such as TV’s, computers, or phones

– Set a timer for 20 minutes and start!

– Sit with your legs crossed if possible. Palms one on top of the other in your lap. If you cannot sit with your legs crossed then find a position that you can sit comfortably, don’t create or further physical ailments in this process. how you sit is not as important as you might think.

– Focus on your breath or teach the abdomen, and allow yourself to be. Note the thoughts and emotions as they arise for what they are “Noting” is acknowledging what truly is within and allowing it to be recognized, this is a game-changer as your practice grows. When the thought, emotion, or feeling has passed return to the breath or the rising and falling of the abdomen.

Can You Bring Your Own Food/ Make Dietary Requests

No to bringing your own food, and to making dietary requests. Understand that if everyone did this, the courses could not exist. Distinguish between dietary requirements and dietary preferences. Do I eat gluten in real life: no. Am I allergic to gluten: also no. There are often options, and you can navigate the meals to avoid certain things, but unless you’re allergic: don’t make requests. Doing so will absolutely harm your practice, because living like a monk/ nun means living on the charity of others. If you want to truly surrender to the experience, you need to let go of your daily life neuroses. Beggars can’t be choosers, and when you accept the free food prepared by love by volunteers who are serving you selflessly and preparing food made with love, the alchemy is incredible and you will feel wonderful, I promise.

How Is It Different From Other Types Of Meditation

People often wonder what difference there is between Vipassana meditation and transcendental meditation or even mindfulness. And while some may think they are very similar, there are clear distinctions in all of them.

Vipassana meditation is about becoming insightful through self observation and enquiries of the self and life.

Transcendental meditation, on the other hand, uses a mantra to help you transcend to the source of thought.

Mindfulness meditation is about being mindful of your thoughts and feelings without interfering, mentally, and living in the present moment.

Ten Day Vipassana Meditation Course: My Experience

You can find a slightly shorter version of this post  in case you don’t want all the detail, though I’d recommend reading the full version if you have the time. If you’re thinking about taking the course, might be helpful to read too. 

I just came back from a 10-day Vipassana course. It was a unique and tough experience full of ups and downs, and very different from what I expected.

I’d been interested in meditation for a few years,  but hadn’t had the discipline to put it into practice. I chose this course because it’s a 10-day immersive course with no communication throughout. No phones, no talking to the other meditators. Not even any eye contact or gestures. I liked the idea of the lack of distraction. Other than that I have to admit I didn’t know too much about this specific course before I went, and that became apparent as soon as I got there!

Upon arrival, we made a vow to live by a number of rules, most of them not too taxing: no killing, stealing, lying, or intoxicants, and complete sexual abstinence. We also agreed not to leave before the end of the course.

Each day of the course started with a gong at 4 AM and finished with a talk at 9:30 PM, with around 11 hours of meditation in between. The rest of the time was made up of meal and rest breaks.

Ok so far. I can swallow that.

Hmm, ok. A little far fetched, but just maybe there’s a meaningful analogy there.

Some things I’ve noticed since leaving the course yesterday:

To be continued…

How Much Does A Vipassana Meditation Retreat Cost

Vipassana is technically free, in that you don’t pay anything to attend. There are many reasons for this, one of which is that it allows you to develop the P?ram? and even the teachers volunteer their time, because Dhamma is too important to set a financial restriction on

Donations are pure and are only accepted by old students, who have completed at least one 10 day Vipassana. They are based on means which is one of the fundamental pillars on which enlightenment is founded.

No Speaking For 10 Days Wtf Do You Lose Your Mind

Haha, kind of, but it’s amazing. When you live your day-to-day life constantly thinking and communicating, its near impossible to realize the madness going on in your head. We have so much stimulus that our thoughts actually jump from one thing to another without ever taking a breath. This is apparent during the first 2 days of the retreat. As you quietly observe your breath, the mind is running at 100 miles per hour like a total spas.

When we speak, we automatically start telling ourselves stories, about how we feel, what other people are doing and saying and our assumptions on their intentions and what they might be thinking. It’s an added layer of information that just crams into our internal dialogue and generates information overload. Not speaking for 10 days is so relaxing and regenerative. It allows you to focus on observing your mind as opposed to multitasking between that and navigating the outside world. It really gives you a chance to go inwards.

What Is The Cost Of A Vipassana Meditation Course

On principle, no fee for the Vipassana course is charged. Centers are instead maintained by the donations of those who have completed a meditation course. You may donate only once you have completed a course and you are free to choose the amount you wish to donate.

those who came before you support your course while your donation supports future participants. So you pay it forward.

Would I Recommend Vipassana Meditation To Others

Yes! But only when the timing is right.

A simple, non-sectarian technique for programming pervasive peace into our lives, I believe Vipassana meditation to be one of the best things I’ve ever encountered. I wouldn’t recommend rushing into a course, though. Had I attended one a year ago, I probably would have left the first day. Trying to sit still and consciously aware for ten straight days is a tremendous challenge.Sign up when you have some extra gumption to give to the experience.

Lastly, if you’ve made it this far in this lengthy article, you might be curious how much a ten-day Vipassana course cost? It’s absolutely free. The program is entirely run by volunteers and financially supported by past students .

How To Do Vipassana Meditation Technique At Home

In my opinion, it is best to do Vipassana at home because then you will gain insight into how your mind works in the place you are every day: home, which is far more valuable than doing it at a retreat.

Buddha said that it is best to do Vipassana meditation technique in a forest, sitting with the legs crossed in Lotus position. However, you can practice Vipassana meditation at home. Of course, your space should be relaxing and free of distractions. You can also do it sitting in a chair. However, do make sure you have good posture. 

When you do Vipassana at home you should be somewhere quiet and comfortable.

You can learn more about sitting positions in my guide to

My Toughest Challenge Ever Vipassana Meditation

Meditation Series – Chapter 3: Vipassana

Continuing my experiments with different forms of meditation, I had come across Vipassana around 2015. I got this sudden opportunity to join Vipassana camp. Vipassana is an old Buddhist tradition of Meditation, as was taught by Gautam Buddha himself. I had heard a lot about it and always thought of it more as an adventure than Meditation; it seemed like the toughest experience out there. Many people think that one session of Vipassana and you become a sanyasi on a yogic path like Gautam Buddha. Frankly, it is a stupid conception but about that later, first, let me elaborate on my experience with Vipassana. 

How Vipassana challenges you every minute.

Vipassana is seriously a mind-blowing experience and the toughest thing I ever did in my life. One has to dedicate oneself to the session for 10 days at a time and stay in the ashram/camp during this period. Program highlights are: Wake up every morning at 4 a.m., not talk to anyone for 10 days , and last meal at 12 noon – no dinner, only a snack in the evening… All deal breakers for me. I am not a morning person, in fact I can’t even wake up at 9 easily, forget about 4 am. The few times in life, I have been awake at 4 in the morning was when I didn’t sleep the whole night. ?

What more? Hmmm, not talking to anyone was not a deal-breaker, as I have a strange combination of chatterbox and statuesque personality. So acquiring one personality for a small period of time is not so tough.

How I Heard About Vipassana Meditation Retreats

I heard about Vipassana meditation retreats on a forum. People shared reviews of their Vipassana experiences and reported getting incredible results from the 10-day retreats offered by Vipassana centers around the world. I looked into it, fond a center close to my home in Eastern Canada and subscribed for a 10-day meditation retreat. I wasn’t sure what I was getting myself into. I read it was considered one of the most challenging meditation retreats available to westerners. I saw it as a great personal challenge and an incredible opportunity to fully focus on meditation. Besides, the retreats were free of charge; they’re solely financed by voluntary donations, so I really had nothing to lose except 10 days.

Photo credit : hckyso from flickr

In Vipassana retreats, all forms of communication with other students are forbidden . Practitioners are only allowed to bring necessities, this means nothing to read, watch, listen to or write with. Cellphones and other electronic devices are also prohibited. The rules are strict, but they are helpful and force you to fully concentrate on your meditation practice without distracting yourself when things get tough, because they will get tough, trust me.

I Keep Seeing The Word Dhamma What Does It Mean

Dhamma is part of the ‘triple gem’ which includes:

anyone who is fully enlightened

the law of nature; the teaching of an enlightened person; the way to liberation

anyone who has practiced Dhamma and has become a pure-minded, saintly person

All Pali words are explained during the course, as their relevance becomes necessary.

Schedule: A Typical Vipassana Day And Timetable

For days one through nine, participants observe a “Noble Silence” which means no talking and no charades or other non-verbal communication. You can ask the instructor questions during sessions at 12:00 P.M. and 9:00 P.M. Remaining silent during this time is not nearly as difficult as it sounds.

The schedule is the same at every Vipassana 10-day meditation course, no matter where it is being held in the world. You can see this at the bottom of the Vipassana FAQ page.

Wake up bell: 4:00 A.M.

Most mornings, for whatever reason, my body anticipated the waking bells at 4:00 A.M. I set an alarm for 4:10 A.M. just in case and never had to use it. Not because I wasn’t tired in some way, or even jet lagged a bit, but because it was clear I had something important that I must do.

After a quick wash and water and a stretch, I was out the door into the pre-dawn darkness for a walk from my room to the meditation hall. The touch of cool before the birds would come alive and the warmth of the Malaysia hot season would land was something I’ll never forget.

Meditate in the hall or in your room: 4:30-6:30 A.M.

I quickly realized after a brief conversation with the instructor that meditating in the hall for newcomers is an important discipline. I found I would go much further with the structure and discipline of the early morning in the hall, despite the fact that the morning sessions ended with a chant that typically drove me borderline crazy.

Breakfast and rest: 6:30-8:00 A.M.

Where Can I Find A Vipassana Meditation Retreat

Today, there are over 172 Vipassana meditation centers, and 134 non-centers scattered around the globe, all of which are under the instruction of current teacher S.N. Goenka , whose videotaped sessions guide the students along the course.

All Vipassana meditation centers operate strictly on a donation basis. So, the course and all its amenities are provided for free. Donations are only accepted from those who complete the full 10-days and are informed after completion of the minimum donation to cover their board and lodging.

All participants are expected to complete the full 10-days, however, there is no obligation and one can leave anytime.

www.dhamma.org

What Is Vipassana Meditation A Beginners Guide

We will all agree that often times we find ourselves overwhelmed by various negative thoughts and feelings. We get angry, disappointed, sad, discouraged and even feel completely out of harmony with ourselves. This makes us send off those negative energies to the other people around us and make them unhappy too.

Definitely, it is not something we do intentionally but the things we go through life may make us do it. But is there a way in which we can reduce all the negative thoughts, feelings and energy and be more on the positive side, feeling energized, motivated, peaceful, happy and having proper inner balance?

Vipassana meditation is a great practice that helps us become more peaceful, calm and have inner harmony through purifying the mind from the negative thoughts and feelings that make us suffer. It brings a sense of mental stillness and clarity that helps us live better lives.

How Does It Work The Precepts And Course Rules

So, how does a retreat work anyway? What are the rules? What does a typical day look like? That’s what we’ll cover next.

For starters, attendees of a Vipassana course must undertake five precepts for the duration of the course: 1) to abstain from killing any being; 2) to abstain from stealing; 3) to abstain from all sexual activity; 4) to abstain from telling lies; 5) to abstain from all intoxicants.

In addition to the precepts, attendees should also adhere to the following rules:

The rules may sound a bit strict and draconic in the beginning. After the course, however, I realize that most of them make total sense and are simply there to make life easier for the students.

I had no trouble following the rules, though I do some pushups and other bodyweight exercises from time to time. As long as you don’t distract your fellow meditators, I guess it’s fine.

[vacationsoup]

New Post has been published on https://vacationsoup.com/hawaiis-reopening-visitors-are-welcomed-back-with-testing/

Hawaii's Reopening - Visitors Are Welcomed Back With Testing

It was the news we had all been waiting for - Hawaii's Reopening! Governor Ige held a news conference at the Honolulu Airport last Wednesday to announce that Hawaii will reopen to domestic and international travel on August 1st, as long as visitors can show a negative Covid-19 test result within 72 hours of departure. So, what does this mean?

Inter-island travel reopened without requiring a quarantine on June 16th. The 14-day quarantine is still in effect for domestic and international travel, and will continue to be in effect indefinitely. However, now there is another option for travelers outside the state. The model was taken from Alaska's reopening this month. If a visitor agrees to take a Covid-19 test within 72 hours of departure, and is able to show a negative result, they will be allowed to enter the state after July 31st without having to quarantine.

Many have questioned how they can meet these requirements when some areas still require a doctor's referral to get tested and test result findings can sometimes take up to a week. Josh Green, Hawaii's Lieutenant Governor, has been working diligently with CVS Pharmacy to create a national program which avoids these two problems. The idea is that one would go to the pharmacy to give his/her specimen and then the results would be uploaded into a data base with which Hawaii officials would have access. The details have not been released yet, including the fees for this test, however I would expect much more information to be forthcoming in the next few weeks.

Vacation Rental Owners, including myself, are so excited that guests will now have an option to come to Kauai without having to quarantine. It has been a very difficult time for all of us as our properties have been sitting empty for months. This program is not 100% risk free, but either is daily life on the mainland. With this option available, it is hard to imagine anyone choosing to not test, board the plane, and then have to quarantine for 14 days.

I don't expect that we will have the same number of tourists arriving, but in a way that makes it even nicer for those who do decide to come. I must say it is rather idyllic right now - no crowds, no traffic, and most businesses are back up and running with social distancing practices in place. Tom and I celebrated our anniversary by going to The Bistro in Kilauea. It was the first time we had gone out to dinner since March. The waiters and service persons had on masks, tables were spaced apart, the food was delicious (try the seafood gumbo!), and it was the first time I felt somewhat "normal" in a long time.

There is, of course, so much uncertainty still involved, which makes it very hard to plan a vacation. For this reason I would strongly encourage everyone to purchase travel insurance for your future trips. It has always been a good idea, especially when traveling to an area which has hurricanes, but now it is even more important. I realize that many trip insurance policies did not cover the pandemic, but now companies are coming out with plans that do. CSA, as an example, has a plan which covers you if you get Covid-19 during your trip and even if you should test positive 72 hours before your flight. I do not know all the details yet, but a friend of mine is a rep for the company and after I called her with this question she emailed CSA. The response, from a Generali (the parent company of CSA) contact, stated, "Yes, if the guest tests positive and they've purchased insurance before testing, that would be a covered reason for cancellation. Furthermore, that would cover everyone going on the trip." She said  she was putting together a marketing piece for her Hawaii accounts to help drive insurance sales as a result of this new protocol. Yes, the insurance companies' goal is to make money, but booking a vacation rental with confidence, knowing that if you have to cancel you will get your money back, goes a long way to reduce stress!

As you can imagine Kauai residents are a bit nervous about opening our borders to visitors because we have been living in a Kauai Pandemic Bubble for four months. Please be sensitive to the fear and respect the safety measures in place. You will find most people wearing a mask in public. We are a small community, living on a small island which has a history of residents being devastated by disease. We must all be careful.

So, do not give up on that dreamy Kauai vacation. Hawaii's reopening has made it possible. It will not be quite as easy to get here, but once you do, you will not be sorry.

Following are a list of websites which you may find helpful and informative. At this time there is not an online explanation of the CVS Pharmacy test agreement because it has not been finalized yet.

Hawaii's Reopening References:

Kauai Covid-19 Website with updates from Mayor Kawakami on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

Hawaii's Disease Outbreak Control Division website.

Mandatory Travel Declaration Form.

Kaua‘i Videos:

Culture, https://youtu.be/U28HqfAUgXA Kaua‘i Travel Tips: Land Safety, https://youtu.be/f6quQU5AtjM Kaua‘i Travel Tips: Ocean Safety, https://youtu.be/bj3mV3-1bnA Kaua‘i Travel Tips: Travel Pono, https://youtu.be/hzuQRtWinsQ

For more of my blogs or to subscribe, go to the right-hand side of this page (not phones). For more information about our luxury vacation rental, Honu Point, including rates and availability, go to any other page of this website. Mahalo!