#and it felt like a refreshing breath enlivening me

[navigatorjin]

Chapter I: Plot twist, it’s not a trip to hell

dictionary:¹háozi - the Chinese name for the raccoon dog

A/N : although I’m not sure if the translation is correct because I do not know things about Chinese translation, but if I’m wrong, please do correct me. I also tried writing this at 2nd POV, I hope I did this okay lol

“Ugh... Is it morning already..?”

A small movement of something shaking made you woke up in a mess, hair sticking on you face as droplets of sweat drip from your forehead down to your chin.

It’s disgustingly... hot. So hot you feel like you’re melting from the heat.

‘This is bad...’ You whimpered, breathing becoming heavy as you felt yourself become lightheaded. Although it only takes you a couple of second to finally feel refresh again, it didn’t help the fact that the wave of hotness surging from your pulse is still tingling as it run up to your nerves.

You slowly opened your eyes, light blue eyelashes fluttering with every movement only to left an uncomfortable sound when you saw nothing but darkness.

“Where in the everlasting chicken fuck am I...?” You grumbled under your breath, puffs of cloud leaving your mouth from being overwhelmed by the heat. ‘... Shit, I can’t do this here.’

A grunt slip out of your mouth. You were left no choice, it’s either become high from the heat or save your ass by using this so-called powers of yours.

Blue particles dust your current appearance, adding the light that supports your vision. A low sound of something cracking reach your ears, comes with a great pain of something pricking your skin yet that’s all you sense before you felt enliven from the current cold you’re feeling.

‘Much better,’ You sighed, however, the fact that you don’t know where you are still bothers you. Not to mention, wherever you are, the place is too narrow to your liking.

Until you feel it again, the same rattling movement that woke you up earlier.

“I better hurry up and find that uniform before someone spots me....” A gruff sounding voice echoed outside the place you are in, strangely enough it also sounds more akin to a child’s. “Ugh.... This lid weights a ton!” The place shook once again.

You lift an arm to your front, feeling a rough texture touch your skin. You furrowed your brows when you heard the person talks again, this time it sounds more devilish for a child’s voice.

“Try this on for size! Mya-ha!”

You feel something radiate. Something that counter the coldness of your power.

It’s painfully hot, it came gradually searing through your skin, to your veins before reaching your already warm face. You were overwhelmed, it’s so hot, hot, hot, hot, hothothothotsohotsohotsohotsohotsohotsohot.

You couldn’t take it anymore, you notice the way your power surges from your beating heart to your pulse. Slowly and painfully, a loud gasp escape your mouth you didn’t know you’re holding.

You felt the way the heat on your face vaporize the moment your power went out of control for a second. A dim light hits your bare face making you squint and grunt upon the contact before putting a hand on your head.

“What in the name of Morax and my hot mother—” You suddenly stopped mumbling, eyes colorless as you felt your soul leaving your body.

‘I’m not high in naku weed, but what the fuck am I seeing,’ You are frozen on your spot, head turning left to right but everything you could see is countless coffins floating around and, hold up—is that a floating mirror you are seeing?

“Now to grab the goods...” The same voice you heard earlier made you snap back to reality. And for the second time today, but this time, you felt your soul ascending to the destroyed home of the Gods. “What!? You ain't supposed to be awake!!”

“Am I being paranoid or is this a talking háozi¹ I’m perceiving?” By now, you’re starting to question what really went wrong during the nine months your mother carried you in her womb.

“I don’t know what this ‘háozi’ you’re talking about and I feel like being insult, so HOW DARE YOU! I am Grim, sorcerer extraordinaire!" The talking háozi protested, anger lacing his voice. Electric blue eyes sneering at your form before he demanded, “Tch. Whatever. You... Human! Just gimme your uniform and be quick about it!”

You scrunched up your nose in disgust. Like, genuinely speaking, why the fuck does he think you’re going to give him your clothes?

“‘Cause if you don’t... You’re gonna regret it!” The háozi made a devilish grin, his fangs slightly showing as the fire that ignites on his ears, that you didn’t notice earlier leaving you speechless, burn the brightest color of blue.

“Getting roasted alive? Definitely not on my bucket list, nope, nah, nada, nuh-uh,” The háozi watch as you shake your head in a way he could tell you’re saying ‘no’ as you cross your arms ‘x’, the action angered him more and bro was it his last straw.

You peek an eye to the háozi that has been quiet, his silence deafening to your ears but despite all that, you can’t help but be curious when he said he wanted you to give him your uniform.

I mean, it’s just a normal uniform, right? Long-sleeved white blouse, yellow necktie, top with a yellow vest, a gray blazer with the school’s insignia personally designed by the Liyue’s finest designer and a dark pleated skirt. The uniform complimenting Liyue National High School’s color code, pretty normal isn’t it? So why does he—

Oh.

OH.

You don’t know when you changed, but you certainly did not remember having a dark robe with a fine patterns of gold. ‘Cool aesthetic—wait, that’s not the point!’

From the corner of your eyes, you could see the way the fire on his ears light up in a way that could rival the sun, but it’s blue. ‘Did I provoke him too much?’

You shake off the thought, all you can think right now is the way to escape because just by standing next to the háozi makes you want to combust out of existence.

You saw the way his ears twitch, the slightest movement making you flinch. And second later, you find yourself running away.

You don’t know where you are, you don’t even know how you quickly adapt at your surroundings like you’ve seen it before, but one could tell that you’re afraid. Afraid of the thought you won’t be able to come back.

You didn’t know how fast you’re running, but you were definitely sure you pass by a classroom a couple of minutes ago.

Your hand reached up to a large door before it open with a creek. Library, that’s what you thought when you finally managed to stop on your track to catch your breath.

‘I already failed PE and you expect me to run this far..?’ You deadpanned, finding it funny how you were mentally asking practically no one but yourself.

“Man, whoever puts me in this marathon shit, I hope you woke up in the wrong side of the bed,” You ruffled your hair, clicking your tongue in the process. “No, scratch that. I hope their life gets worse like actually.”

But your escape isn’t successful when you heard the familiar hoarse voice, "Foolish human! Did you really think you could slip away from ME?" His shit-eating grin plastered on his furred face with his electric blue eyes boring right through your soul, "Now, unless you wanna get burned to a crisp, take off that—"

You flinch at the sound of something cracking, and the moment you turned your head, the talking háozi was already caught in a what seems like a whip.

“Me-YEOW!” The háozi growled, “That hurt! What gives?”

“Consider it tough love,” A voice spoke, deep and old, as a figure appeared. What's more stand out was the person's crow-like mask. “Ah, I found you at last. Splendid. I trust you two are one of this year's new student?”

What?

“My, were you ever eager to make you debut,” The mysterious man spoke again, crossing his arms like he’s disappointed as he narrow his eyes at you. "And bringing a poorly trained familiar with you? That is a clear violation of the school's rules."

“Sir, with all due respect, I do not know wha—”

However, the háozi cutted you off before you could even finish you apologetic speech, “As if I'd serve some lowly human! Now let me go!”

Man, you were not having it today...

“Yes, yes. Rebellious familiar always say that. Do be quiet for a bit won’t you?” The man grab the háozi, wrapping the whip on his mouth, ultimately preventing the poor háozi from speaking more.

“Mmmrph!”

“Dear me,” The man sighed in dissatisfaction, dramatically putting a hand over his head. “Of all the students I've dealt with, you are the first with temerity enough to open their own gate and step out of it. Does the very notion of patience elude you?”

‘Listen here mister sir, I’m fucking pissed and your body is looking nice enough to burn and freeze your remains.’

Noticing your silence, but not the way your eye twitch in annoyance, he continue where he left off, “No matter. Your orientation has already began. Let us return to the Mirror Chamber," He said, practically dragging you with the háozi still tied on the lash.

“Student...?” The mere mention of the word piqued your ears.

“You awakened in a room full of gates, am I right?” He eyed you from the corner of his eyes, voice left in a questioning tone but definitely not taking an answer yet. “All the students here at the campus arrived by passing through such gates. Although typically the students have restraint enough to wait until I open them before waking up.”

“I think the fire blew the lid of mine,” ‘Not now, don’t freak out, stay cal—DOES HE FUCKING MEAN THOSE COFFIN IS A GATEWAY OF SORT?!’

“The design is intended to symbolize a parting from your former world—” he spoke, again not bothering to let you voice your opinion regarding the matter at hand. “—And a rebirth to a new one. But now is not the time for such prattle. You’ve student orientation to attend! Go on, now. Make haste.”

“First of all,”You hold out a finger, signaling him to stop before glaring at the man, “Who are you? And the audacity to drag me, rude ass old man.”

Oh how your words made such an impact to the mysterious crow-masked man. ‘D... Does youngsters these day really this scary...?’

“Hm?” The man mused, scratching off the fact that you left him nervous just by the way you talk to him. “Have you not fully regained consciousness?” He wore the same quizzical expression you have, and it’s awkward seeing how you’re both puzzled at this point. Clearing his throat, he continues: “The timespace teleportation must have addled your memories..... Well, this things happen, I suppose. I shall explain it to you while we walk. Truly, my magnanimity is boundless."

Well, at least he stayed truth to his word...

You were somehow in the most prestigious college in Twisted Wonderland: Night Raven College, an institute for students the world over who demonstrate a rare aptitude for magic. And he, Dire Crowley, is the one entrusted by the chairman to serve as its headmage, to your surprise.

So there is also people who have a supernatural ability like yours?

And only those who the Dark Mirror perceives as having a talent for magic are admitted to the college, and those who are selected are summoned to the campus through those “gates”, which can appear everywhere. ‘Has Teyvat always been this way ever since the great downfall of Celestia..?’

Not long enough, you have found yourself back at the room you first woke up in.

[weepywillowsap]

Very indulgent jealous Charles ficklet (based on the ballroom dance scene in Emma).

Part 1

The ball was in full swing around him. Charles was jubilant as he danced with Warren. His partner was pleasing in both his manner and conversation, and if the word going around was to be believed, quite the catch. Warren smiled at him widely as they stepped into the next sequence, leading him through the moves flawlessly. Around them sparkled the sound of good music and laughter, enlivened by the easy flow of good wine and champagne. Charles caught eye Moira’s eye as she twirled past him in the arms of Lord Janos and winked at her. 

He was breathless with laughter by the time the set came to an end. Charles fought a blush as Warren took his hand and raised it to his lips after they had bowed to each other. After agreeing to dance another set with him, Charles made his way to the refreshment table tired and absolutely parched. He had danced every song so far. He chatted merrily with some of his acquaintances as he had another glass of mulled wine, tonight felt like a success and he felt exuberant. If only Erik were here, Charles sighed to himself a little despondently. He had been called away on business a fortnight ago but he was supposed to have come back this afternoon. Charles hoped he would be here tonight, Erik's absence always left him feeling out of sorts. There was no one to bicker with or make fun of. It left Charles feeling strangely bereft.

He was interrupted from his wallowing by Raven who had just arrived. She was dressed in soft chiffons with her hair styled according to the latest fashion. She looked wonderful. Charles pushed through the throng of people to reach her, she stood near the entrance of the room uncertainly. She had still now grown used to the niceties of society and it reflected in how she held herself. Charles frowned to himself as he neared her, he should have come with her. It was thoughtless of him to have abandoned her to her own devices.

Raven gave him a huge smile as she saw him, her face transforming instantly from its previous reluctance.

"Raven!" Charles exclaimed, "you look beautiful my darling"

Her cheeks reddened as she laughed at his compliment, "I had better, considering the number of hours I spent on my toilette this evening".

Charles laughed as he took her hand and pulled her along, introducing her to people along the way. He had the perfect partner in mind for her. Lord Shaw stood in the corner with his usual retinue of followers. He had gained his title rather recently, but he was obscenely rich and rather charming. Like Raven, he was somewhat of an outsider in their society, but a welcome one no doubt. She would find it easier to be with him than any of the other more stuffy suitors. Somewhere in his head he could hear Erik's disapproving voice telling him he was being presumptuous. He ignored it feeling miffed. Erik should have been here. It made very little sense for him to miss this ball, especially since he had been away for so long. Especially when he knew Charles would be there.

He shook off the unpleasant feeling in his chest as he introduced Raven to Shaw. The conversation flowed smoothly between the three of them. Raven seemed pleased, while Shaw seemed uncharacteristically hesitant and shy. He kept trying to draw Charles into the conversation, good naturedly laughing at him with Raven. Charles was just thinking of a way to extricate himself from the situation and leave Raven to make a new friend, when he caught sight of a familiar figure from the corner of his eye. Erik! Exclaiming in pleasure Charles hastily made his excuses and ignored Raven's knowing look as he turned and hurried towards his friend.

Erik stood in the corner of the room talking to Mr Burchfield. He carried himself as stiffly as he usually did when he was out in society. Leave it to him to enter a party and find the most boring individual to talk to. Erik caught sight of him as he drew closer. The expression on his face softened and his stance relaxed almost imperceptibly. Erik's lips curled at the corner as they usually did when he was happy but unwilling to show it.

"My dear Mr Lenhsherr" Charles cut into the conversation smoothly, firmly tucking his hand in his friend's to tug him lightly towards himself. He gamely ignored the exasperated look Erik gave him.

"And Mr Burchfield" he said giving the man a little bow, “a pleasure as always”

The older man seemed a little taken aback by the sudden interruption, but he was also used to the quirky ways of the nobility. After a few polite words he was glad to leave them, but not before eliciting a promise from Erik to meet the next day to continue the conversation. 

Charles finally turned to face his friend fully, beaming at the familiar expression on the well loved face. 

“Charles, I am glad to see you remain as impetuous as always“ Erik said, his eyes crinkling at the corners as they did when he smiled. As rare as that was.

“And I am glad to see you remain as severe as always old man“ Charles shot back affectionately, while carefully observing the man before him, “you look tired, maybe you should have rested tonight“

“And risked you whining at me for ditching you for a month after?“ Erik said dryly, his eyebrows raised. 

Charles bristled a little at that expression, it was the same expression that Erik always adopted when he was feeling particularly lofty and disapproving. As if Charles was still a child and not a well respected adult. It stung a little, he wanted Erik to see him as an equal. He had long ceased to be the little boy who would Erik around and hanging upon him with stars in his eyes.

“I did not even note that you were gone“ he retorted with a poorly disguised scowl, turning to pick up another glass of wine from the passing server.

“Really?“ Erik was smirking at him now, “have you found more projects to keep yourself employed? I saw Raven on my way in, she looked beautiful by the way. I would keep her from Shaw if I were you“ he gestured towards where Raven was standing with the man, “he is an awful opportunist”. 

Charles felt himself flush with annoyance.

“I was actually glad to have the opportunity to enjoy myself without someone judging my every move“ he looked away, taking a fortifying gulp from his glass.

“Raven is doing quite well actually, Shaw has taken to her marvellously. In fact“ Charles paused for effect and finished the remains of his wine, “he has asked her to dance the next set with him“.

He looked triumphantly at Erik, only to falter at the contemptuous expression on his face. 

Charles could feel his temper rising. Coupled with the wine he had, he felt a bit light headed and brash.

“In fact“ he pushed on, ignoring the thinning of Erik’s lips, “I quite enjoyed myself in your absence, there was no one to check my every move and pass judgement on my manifold follies“ Charles looked away from Erik to glare at the glass in his hand.

“In fact, contrary to your opinion, people do find me pleasing company and I am not the spoilt child you make me out to be”

“In fact“ he said as he gestured towards Warren at the other end of the room, “Warren Worthington, the most eligible bachelor in the county, has been seeking my company of his own voilition. I am to dance the next few sets with him and I have not even noted your absence in the very least. So you see“ he paused to draw in a steadying breath, “I will not have whined at you, for I do not even care if you aren’t here. Indeed, I am far happier when you are not!“ 

Charles finished his diatribe with a pleased flourish of his hands, only to stop when he saw the expression on the other man’s face.

Erik’s face was a passive mask, his grey eyes cold and distant. Charles flinched at the sight as he realised he had overstepped as always.

“Erik..“ he hastily moved to correct himself, but he his friend was already moving away from him, untangling his hand from his.

“It is quite well Charles, I apologise for burdening you with my presence. Indeed you were only to say a word and I would have obliged“ he paused only to give him a stiff bow. Before Charles could say another word, Erik was striding away from him with his quick decisive strides, disappearing into the milling crowd.

Charles stood there feeling sick, an awful feeling rising in his chest. He felt alarmingly like he would cry. He was rescued from the moment by the arrival of Warren himself. Their set was due to start next. He allowed himself to be led to the floor and mechanically followed the steps of the song. His mind kept going back to the fight with Erik. It was unfair, it was terribly unfair. It was his fault, he never could control his tongue around him. But Erik had no business chastising him at every turn. He ignored the questioning look Warren sent him as they twirled together into the next sequence.

Tomorrow he would go over to Erik’s with some books and the chess set. They would work it out. Erik would be aloof at the start, but he would forgive him with the ease of practice. Perhaps in the evening they could go out riding to the river. Charles felt his chest unclench. They would be alright. He had missed Erik terribly. 

He smiled at Warren reassuringly, everything was okay. 

Suddenly a familiar couple whirled away next to them. He turned to look curiously only to stop short in surprise. It was Erik and Raven,

He tried to suppress the surge of betrayal that rose within him at the sight. Erik never danced. He had never danced with Charles, despite him asking a hundred times. Erik always claimed it was beneath his dignity to fail at anything, and he would certainly fail at dance. And here he was, gracefully twirling Raven through the set, with the soft smile that indicated he was genuinely enjoying himself. In the amber light of the room, with cheeks flushed with exertion, Raven looked beautiful. She was radiant. Erik looked effortlessly handsome as he always did. Heart achingly familiar and his. But dancing with another. 

Charles tore his eyes away from the couple, stumbling over the next few steps with a foreign clumsiness. As soon as the dance ended he bowed to his partner and mumbled a few excuses to make his way out of the stifling atmosphere of the room. There was a burning sensation in his throat. The idea of Erik dancing with Raven was unbearable. The idea of Erik dancing with anyone who was not Charles was unbearable. He was his best friend. The possibility of the fact that someone else could ever come between them was intolerable. 

He found an empty library and closed the door, his eyes burning. This was irrational, the logical part of his brain supplied. Erik was his friend, he was allowed to have other affections. Had not Charles himself enjoyed Warren’s attentions. No, the other part of him supplied fiercely. It was not the same. Charles knew that he did not feel anything for Warren, he was a pleasing companion and nothing more. Erik on the other hand did not make friends easily, and he had genuinely seemed taken with Raven. Even now they were there, dancing together without a care about him. 

Charles wanted to punch a wall, he wanted to break the crystal vase on the table, he wanted to pull Erik to him and shake him for being so foolish, he wanted to kiss Erik senseless till he forgot about anyone else, Oh.

Oh.

He wanted to kiss Erik. He wanted. He wanted. 

He groaned in distress and sank into the sofa, covering his face with his palms. 

He loved Erik. It was a revelation. It was the most obvious thing in the world. 

He groaned again, shaking his head. Moira and Edie would be so smug.

[suenala]

BTS-story ; well, here i am.

episode 4 ; 'she's cocky.'

prev. < tsilretsam

[genre] ; fluff

[fandom] ; 방탄소년단

[⚠] ; cuss must bust

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Fee: "Hey yn," -she talks from behind her locker door-

Yn: "Hm?" -i start changing my clothes and shoving everything into my duffle bag and then shoving THAT into my locker-

Fee: "What's your number?"

Yn: "You have my number...?"

Fee: "No i dont..?"

Yn: "Yes you do...?"

Fee: "Well, tell me, i don't remember then."

Yn: "Oh, fine its 25326-'

Fee: "No you idiot, your fucking number on your tag!" -she doesn't even look at me and smacks me on the back of my head-

Yn: "Oh, uh..25, how 'bout you?" -i sit on the bench behind me, rubbing my head-

Fee: "Dang, 46."

Yn: "Dang?" -as she finishes up, she turns around towards me and gestures to leave-

Fee: Walk and talk, lets go. Anyway, yeah, i wanted to go sooner."

Yn: "Hm? Why?"

Fee: "I don't know, if i was best, then they'll probably have a hard time judging others, no offense...hehe."

Yn: "Don't they record them? They can always look back to remember."

Fee: "Hm, i guess you are right." -we slowly stop talking as we re-enter the studio. This time the lights and cameras were set up-

We had an half-hour refresh session so everyone and practice. My number was 25 so I had plenty of time to work on my own choreography, they said they will be going by twenty but theres alot of us so...this'll be awhile. 

[Thirty minutes later]

Namjoon: "Okay, i hope everyone's warmed up?"

Everyone: "Yes!"

Namjoon: "Okay, we're going to need the numbers 1-20 to stay please and the rest can exit. After they are done we'll take a 25-minute break and the group next can come in, got it?"

Jin: -whispers- "namjoon.., they aren't dogs.."

Namjoon: "Shut up."

We all exit and sit outside waiting..well some of us, it was like an hour and a half till it was our time but before that, mostly everyone went to other studio rooms to practice or some fell asleep or something but for me and fee just sat there talking. We were actually pretty confident we would make it to the next round but maybe that's just us, i guess a lot of girls need that (confidence) to perform but i felt like maybe something was going to be a bit different.

[Hour and a half later]

Girl 1: "Dude, im so exhausted.."

Girl 2: "i know right? Me too, good job out there by the way." -she wipes her forehead with a towel as she's walking out-

Jhope: "Wow! I was super impressed! You all danced well today!"

Jimin: "I agree, you all must've worked very hard, huh?"

All the boys follow each other out as they bow and hand out water bottles to the girls. We all know damn well that they didn't need it lol maybe its because its from celebrities?

Jhope: "Don't worry, we won't be long!"

Suga: "Hoseok, just go."

They all wave and bow to us as they walked into a break room reserved for them, they're lucky too, that room is one of our biggest and has couches and T.V’s, lots of food and drinks and other stuff. Usually, that would be reserved for the studio staff or VIP members like me but the staff got a smaller one instead.

Every time I saw a teacher walk past the room, they would roll their eyes as their seeing it taken away from them, but you know, sucks to suck.

[25 miNuTeS LaTer]

The next 20 girls walked in and the boys were already there. We all sat against a wall while the first girl went, the boys looked so focused and when they saw something surprising they seemed genuinely impressed. It gave me alot of courage because then maybe i can do something that'll have taken them aback..., thats until I heard people whispering and talking about me, saying things like; “Omg, I totally forgot we were up against yn..”, “Should we just leave now? We have no chance with her here.” etc. To be honest, it gave me some joy that people thought I was intimidating but also it was sad that people put themselves down just cause I was in the competition too, I didn't want to say anything cause I had a feeling that maybe they would think I was being...conceited but really, what should i do? Quit?

Soon enough time passed and it was my turn, I stood there in front of 19 other girls and seven boys, I stretched thoroughly, cracking every bone in my body and gave them my requested song. For my audition i had selected to be in a duo so I called in henry, i wanted to have more people dance with us but ...they wouldn't get credit since they had to do their own dances when it was their turn plus henry wasn't going to audition—he slacks off too much.

They play on the music and once the intro starts— i immediately get a shot of adrenaline into my body. That's the best part of dancing in front of a crowd, the racing heart wanting to blow out of your chest, the massive amounts of energy that come along— i just feel so awake and enliven. Its like dancing is a drug, i can practice hours on end and yeah i can get tired but i can never get tired (you kno'¿ lolol), i crave for the side effects; the sweat, the dehydration. I love it all.

Everyone sits up and starts bobbing their heads to the beat of the song. They've all seen me dance before and i got to say, im not the best but im sure as hell far away from worst. As their all getting ready to watch me go, the boys are also getting interested, they want to see me dance like before or BETTER than before- all that this morning, it was just all practice, surely im better than that.

I move my body to the beat of the intro and we get into position for the first lyric.

[song] ; a.c.e- black and blue

Im in full focus.

I start dancing with a sharp move—my upper half bopping to the sound. One minute in the song and i can feel the burn, im moving as fast as my body can go and making sure that my moves are as sharp as can be. Really, i didnt care if i got selected. When he asked me if ill be participating i was a bit unsure really and when Jimin said i didn't care i just thought, well "we'll see."

I have to admit that even if i dont get picked, this was really fun, this competition. I get to really see what my peers are made of and they get to see me at my fullest.

Yn: -i make contact with jhope and we stare at each other for a while until i wink and blow a kiss, you would think he would be used to it but it seemed like he got flustered a bit-

Jimin: "Isn't she really good?!" -He whispers to the other members-

Jhope: -scoffs- "Tsk, she's cocky." -he mutters-

I can see Jhope writing on the clipboard with a smirk, was he impressed?

The music ends and I stand there for a minute breathing heavily. Henry pats me on the back and bows to everyone as he leaves, I take a deep breath and stand next to the door. All the other girls tell me that i did a good job and said I was amazing but, I look over to the members and their expressions were so...blank? I can't tell if they enjoyed it or not well besides Jimin, he's smiling from ear to ear, at least someone thought it was good, right...?

I end up having eye contact with jhope again and he raises a brow.

Namjoon: "Okay! Good job #25! Next please!"

Another girl goes up and its a much slower paced than what I just danced to, sigh, this will be a long day won't it?

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[epstein70sherman-blog]

Memory Loss And Aging - 7 Simple eco-friendly Stop And Reverse Age Related Memory Loss

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[imagineclaireandjamie]

Flood my Mornings: Fight

This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.

See all past installments via Bonnie’s Master List

Previous installment: Wee hours

August, 1951

It was a blissful serendipity, and so rare, so unheard of as to be little short of  breathtaking: 

....having awakened well before dawn to find myself not only feeling oddly refreshed and rested, but with both children still sound asleep, the entire house to myself, and energy to be at my own personal leisure. 

Not that I would have minded if Jamie had been about; quite the contrary, for unoccupied hours together were more rare these days, what with the constant demands of the children and the need for Jamie to keep a regular schedule at the barn. We still utilized Penelope, of course, but mostly to keep Bree occupied during the day, give us all a fighting chance at being well-fed, and allow me to get a bit of sleep. By the time Jamie got home most days, Penelope had gone, meaning that we were both on-duty in those evening hours. 

Yes, I would have loved to share the morning stillness with Jamie, and it was still possible, as he could return from his Saturday morning walk at any moment. Still, I was luxuriating in the solitude, soaking it up into my tired limbs like water into parched roots.  I kept on pricking up my ears, waiting in dread for a tell-tale wail or, worse yet, a ‘Mummyyyyyy?’ from the other end of the house. None came, which meant that every single minute as I made tea and toast, as I took a hot bath while reading a few chapters of Simone de Beauvoir, was an unexpected gift, filling me up like a helium balloon with contentment and, dare I say it...glee! 

As I finished toweling off and slipped into my robe, I was still more ecstatic to learn from the chiming of the hall clock that it was only 6:00. Feeling like I could conquer anything motherhood had to throw at me that day, I was positively striding as I made my way to the kitchen to make another cup of tea, such that I nearly ran headlong into Jamie, who had apparently just come in by the back door. My gasp was a horrific sound, arrowing around the narrow walls. 

It wasn’t the simple reflex of being startled, seeing him suddenly when I’d thought myself all alone. No, in my unusually-present state of mind, my eyes had immediately taken in his actual appearance. “What the bloody hell happened to you?” came the urgent whisper painfully from my throat as I stared at him, wide-eyed in alarm. 

His skin was beet-red from head to toe, with sweat having soaked through his clothing and saturated his hair. There were runnels flowing freely down his face and neck, and his breathing was so labored that I leapt forward at once to check his heart. He waved me off, and I gasped even louder at seeing his hands. The skin of all his knuckles was raw and bleeding, flayed off in terrible, dirty grazes.  “Dear God!! Jamie, were you attacked??” I demanded, my voice raising several octaves in panic. “Did—?” 

“No,” he got out, though his chest was still heaving as he gulped air, swaying a bit. “I’m—fine, lass—” I started to protest that he bloody the hell was NOT fine, but he cut me off. “I was only running the trails. Naught to fret over.” He bent to kiss me, then thought better of it, given the sweat, shrugged, and moved past me into the kitchen. 

“’Running?’“ I said incredulously, following him. “What, from a BEAR? Jamie, you look—” 

“I ken how I look, Sassenach,” he said, rather tersely, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and filling it at the sink. “I went a wee bit overboard wi’ the speed, but I’m fine.”

“I know you didn’t bloody up your hands running, Jamie,” I said, starting to get angry. “Even if you’d tripped and fallen, you’d have skinned the palms, not the knuckles.” He muttered something under his breath in gaelic as he finished gulping. “Well? Were you fighting someone? Did you get in a fight??” 

“No,” he said at once, still trying to catch his breath. It wasn’t just the exertion, though. His teeth were slightly gritted and—yes, damn him!— he was avoiding my eye. “Please, just believe me, Claire there’s nothing to—” 

“Just believe? When you come home bloodied, James Fraser, clearly being evasive about it,” I said, trying not to raise my voice, “I have absolutely every right to ask and worry. And you not telling me what the devil is going on is—It’s just—” 

He held up a hand, and I surprised even myself by falling silent at once. “I’ll tell ye, if ye insist, Sassenach,” he said, sounding defeated. “But will ye give me another several moments to calm my breath?” 

I opened my mouth, then nodded, crossing my arms. He drank another glass of water and closed his eyes, breathing deeply, leaning over the sink. 

“Will you at least let me bandage your hands?” I said stiffly. 

He looked over his shoulder at me in surprise, and after only a moment’s hesitation, smiled faintly and nodded. 

I retrieved the First-Aid box in silence and set it on the counter next to the sink. Just as wordlessly, he shook off his hands after rinsing them in cool water and presented them to me. Most of the dirt that had been in the raw flesh had been washed off, but I still pulled out the antiseptic and carefully cleansed the area. He winced, and had to grit his teeth against the stinging onslaught, but he didn’t pull away or cry out. 

As I was just beginning the tricky task of fastening the bandages, he very quietly said, “I punched a tree.” 

In the immediate split-second following, I very nearly burst out laughing AND unleashed a withering barrage of ‘you WHAT??’ and its subsequent questions and demands. The result of this internal war was stalemate, my face remaining blank as paper as I simply said, “Why?” 

Jamie didn’t respond at once, and I was obliged to look up into his face. He, though, was staring down at his feet, clearly not wanting to look at me. 

I resumed the bandaging, torn between loving patience and snapping at him to get the bloody hell on with it. I gave him a bit more time before firmly asking again, “Why, Jamie?” 

A beat. Then—

“After Culloden....” 

Two less likely words to emerge from his mouth in that moment, I couldn’t have fathomed. 

We had scarcely spoken of the battle, nor of the two years that followed before he came through the stones. He’d tried, from time to time, in response to careful questions on my part, but one or the other of us would change the subject in the end, the horrors of those memories doing more harm than good in the revisiting. I’d hardly any notion of what those years had been like other than the broad brushstrokes of pain, fear, loneliness, and heartbreak.  To hear him freely volunteer the information now...

“I felt the fight within me die, that very day.” He spoke in a near-monotone, the bones and muscles of his face set in a rigidity that terrified me nearly as much as the words themselves. “It wasna only the battle, little of it as I recall; but also the devastation of the battlefield as I lay in fever....hearing the Redcoats shooting the prisoners, my friends.” He spoke slowly, as though forcing himself to give every single experience the respect of full, heartbreaking acknowledgement. “Seeing the bodies heaped high to be burned....the fever burning within my flesh as I longed to be killed alongside them.... Then being brought to Lallybroch; the slow healing as I learned to walk again.... the cave.” 

I said nothing as I kept at my work of bandaging him, to give him the privacy to speak, but I very softly ran my thumb across the back of his hand. A gentle pressure warmed me in return. His voice didn’t change, though. 

 “Between the horrors of war and knowing I’d lost you forever, mo chridhe, any fight within me was gone, immediately.” His voice was steady, but hoarse and low, hardly to be heard. “Every new day was merely another bootprint, stamping it further and further into the ground. Loneliness, still more; hunger, still more; longing and regret, still more, still deeper.”

The morning stillness, so soothing and peaceful a quarter hour ago, now seemed to hiss with ghostly shrieks. 

“’Fight’?” I asked carefully as I gave him back his hands, wanting to make sure I understood; and feeling it the only thing right to ask, in that moment.  

“The spirit, the— power that turns man into warrior. Rage, I suppose; whatever fire within him that propels him into dangers he ought naturally to fear. I had it once, ken?”

I nodded. I had known him as Red Jamie for longer than I’d known him as Jamie of the twentieth century. I knew how that ‘fight’ within him, as he put it, had enlivened and driven him, for better or worse, along his path of life, from cattle raids to prison breaks to battle charges. I knew the certainty and the safety of that power, as well as the almighty terror it could unleash. 

“That power was incarnate within me for so long, being so one with my life as a man that when I felt it snuff out that day, along with the losses I’d suffered already..... I didna ken who I was, Claire, or if I was anything at all. Most days in that cave, when I had nothing save time to think, I was convinced I wasna.” 

A flicker of memory stirred, a flash of that that first morning after he’d found me, that same haunted voice. 

I havena been a man since you left...before Culloden

“After I found you and Brianna,” he was saying, the slightest spark lightening his voice now, “Every day since then, I’ve been—Christ, so happy, unbearably so; so blessed by joy and plenty that I scarcely gave it a thought, that warrior spirit that used to reside in my body, the man that was capable of such violence. Nor did I miss it,” he said with sudden urgency, meeting my eyes for the first time, his own burning intensely with the need to be believed. “Unlike in the cave, when such fire might have sustained me, the absence of it here, in this life—It was a relief, Claire. I no longer needed it to ken who I was or whether or not I was being a good man, ye see?” 

I did see. But I also hadn’t overlooked his use of the past tense. “And now?” 

He let out a breath, relieved. “These past few months, even before Ian arrived, I found myself more and more feeling the sparks of that fire again, blazing through my body. I couldna ignore it for long. For a time, I was able to dispatch it by hard work outdoors at the barn—or else by coming to your bed,” he said, a bit sheepishly. “But it’s a bit like your Immunities, I suppose. What might once have cured an illness immediately due to the novelty of the remedy might be insufficient to the same task years later, because the body has adapted to it, making the potency less keenly felt. Did I get that right?” he asked suddenly with a brief tug of a smile. 

“Close enough,” I said, returning it, though my belly still seemed full of writhing worms.  “So you...punched a tree as a new kind of remedy? Because it’s getting worse?” I personally had suggested that method to him years ago, on the road with the rent party. The thought of him in enough distress and frustration now to necessitate it again was both alarming and, if I were being honest, a bit hurtful. 

He nodded, shame clouding his expression again. “Whenever I can, I’ll go running. I’ve seen folk do so for recreation, and thought it might help; which it has. Rather than walking in peaceful contemplation, as I used, I’ll run, as fast as I’m able, getting as exhausted as I possibly can, and it—It helps, usually. Gets it out of my system, as it were. Only today, I’d been running and running, and I could still feel the grip of it upon me, such that once would have stoked me to kill a man with my bare hands, and I—” 

He cut off quite abruptly and turned aside, closing his eyes as he leaned his back against the counter, torn between dismay and fury at himself, by the way his mouth and jaw were working. I thought about putting my arms around him, of holding and soothing him, but I knew him well enough to know that it wasn’t yet the time. I leaned against the counter next to him without compelling him to look at me. 

“It was a relief to be free of it,” he said again, tightly, “to have moved, or so I thought, beyond it. Now that it’s back... I dinna ken what I’m to do about it.” 

“Was today the first time that it—” I groped for an appropriate word. “—overflowed like that?” 

“No. Several times a week, I’ll feel my heart quicken and my breath come fast through my nostrils and I feel as though I must do—SOMETHING—or die.” He winced as he unconsciously clenched his battered fists. “Usually I’ll just leave and stand on my own for a time until I feel myself calming, or else I’ll be short wi’ someone in my irritability. I’ve not yet resorted to physical violence, but sometimes I—” 

“I’ve never seen that from you at home,” I said softly, meaning to reassure him. “Never.” 

“Aye, but I work verra hard to make it so,” he said, a tinge of mournfulness now showing in his voice. “You and the bairns are my life and my joy, and would swear on my mother’s grave that I should deplete all my strength before letting myself be aught but gentle wi’ the three of ye, and yet still there are times when it comes verra close, and I—” 

Before I could interject, he swore and threw his hands up in despair. “I mean, have men changed so greatly in these two hundred years that they no longer have such feelings to control? Am I just an animal, then, that I canna—” 

“They do,” I said at once. “The world has changed, of course, and it’s no longer a fact of life that men must be physically ready to fight, but certainly, many feel some of that latent drive within them; a greater number than you’d know by looking at them, I think.” 

“And what do they do about it?” he asked, looking over at me eagerly, genuinely needing the answer. 

“Well....” I sighed, feeling the bleakness of the world suddenly crowding around me. “The worst will make headlines. They’ll murder or violate, or pursue lives of crime; perhaps they’ll become soldiers to do such things under the government’s banner. The more common sort might find simply themselves always angry, with all that energy pent inside them. A good many will drown the feelings in drink, or take that need for physical violence out upon those closest to them—their wives and children, usually.” 

I had been talking more or less without thought, letting the speculations roll from my tongue unchecked, fascinated by them even as I formed the words. Coming back to a sharper awareness, though, I looked up at Jamie, who had gone pale. “I swear to ye, Claire,” he said, face hard with resolve and hurt and fear, “I wouldna ever—EVER—” 

“I know,” I said at once, almost laughing with the absurdity of it as I came around to stand in front of him and take his face in my hands. “I know that. You made me a promise, remember?” 

Attempting to lighten the mood with oddly-fond memories of the one time he had beaten me apparently was not the correct move. He looked still more devastated at the reminder, so before he could speak, I cut him off. “You said it yourself: you are a warrior, and—” 

“Were,’  he corrected. 

“Are,” I insisted right back. “It’s in your bones and your brain, still, just as surely as your knowledge of languages or chess. It’s part of you; but you’ve never been cruel, Jamie, and I have absolute trust that you’d never allow it to consume you like those types I was blethering on about.” 

“Still...” he said with a shame-faced shrug, “I might lash out when I oughtn’t, or say something to the bairns in such a state that—” 

“Well that’s just bloody being a parent, isn’t it?” I said with feeling, and he was so shocked that he laughed. “No matter how carefully we try, there will be days when both of us will snap and shout and lash out with our words or need to leave the room to compose ourselves. That’s being a human, not being a man,” I said, my voice dropping suddenly back to tenderness. “I’m not saying I feel the same things as you, but you’re not completely alone in it, either.” 

He took my hand and kissed it before laying it back against his cheek, keeping his own atop it. 

“I think you should join Charlie’s hurling league.” 

“What??” That startled him enough that both our hands dropped. 

“I didn’t think of it before, but that’s the positive side of what men nowadays do to cope with their fighting impulses,” I said excitedly. “They’ve got more leisure time than you or your brother-in-law or your father or any of your ancestors had, and so they play athletic games, to run and knock one another about. Gives them a chance to get their rage and energy out, in a way that people enjoy and encourage! So, I think it would be a good idea for you to do likewise!” 

“Aye, it’s a thought,” he said, seeming actually to consider before shaking his head with decision. “But no. I appreciate the suggestion, but I’ll be fine.” 

“If your idea of ‘fine’ is coming home every weekend with bloodied knuckles, it absolutely is nothing of the sort,” I said dangerously. “Why not join? You adore Charlie and his mates, don’t you? It would give you a lovely chance to—” 

“I’ll not give up our spare time together, Sassenach,” he said sincerely, “at the evenings or the Week Ends only to play games with the lads. T’would be— selfish and damnably frivolous. It isna fair to ye, nor the bairns, and—” 

I stopped him with a finger over his lips. “It isn’t frivolous. It isn’t unfair to me. It’s an hour or two a week at most, and if it helps you with this, then it’s well worth it for all of us.” He was unconvinced, but I soldiered on. “Besides, when the weather is nice, and when Ian gets a bit older, the children and I can come watch you play! It’ll be good to get out and socialize more.” Slumped as he was against the counter, I was able to thunk my forehead gently against his and give him a playful, wheedling smile. “I want you to try it, love. Please?” 

He stayed stonefaced for a few moments, then a slow grin began to spread. “Alright then.” 

“Excellent,” I said, kissing him on the mouth. “Something tells me it will be MUCH more fun to punch Irishmen than trees. At least they’ll give you a run for your money!” 

[taeverie]

Loved You Then

Synopsis: After years of being apart Jaehyung comes back to voice his feelings, but there was another event that held him back when he reunited with you.

Pairing: Jaehyung x reader

Genre: Fluff/angst

Word Count: 2769

A/N: another re-upload, but for my one and only day6 fic hahaha

You were eighteen when Jaehyung bidded goodbye to you in the summer; he gifted an envelope that held an inked correspondence with a simple trinket inside.

You remember that day almost too perfectly: He insisted that you would not open the poorly sealed sleeve until you were inside your vehicle, pure intentions to keep the contents a secret until then. It was not a tearful goodbye, sentiments were not dilapidated — rather, the feeling was almost refreshing.

You had known Jaehyung since you were young, being neighbors and stuck in each other’s classes since elementary swirled an ineffable friendship and a perceptible closeness. It started with a smile, a strange greeting that was paired with an effervescent laugh. You mirrored that same expression back that one mid-spring day, glamour gracing your face as you introduced yourself to him, sheepish and quiescent.

He looked at you, hesitant before replying. Though, when he did, you knew that he would have a significant role in your life.

And so he did.

As years stacked upon each other, days being wasted by walking to school together, creating jests in class, and making each other’s way back was somehow just enough for a stable friendship to form. You two stuck together like a being and its penumbra, constantly shadowing each other to poke silly jests or snap mindless comments towards each other’s mistakes.

Recalling the memories while you sat in the backseat of your car drew a small smile to your face, every fraction of the reminiscence appearing ephemeral the more you attempted to rise it to the surface. Episodes of you and Jaehyung engaging in a silent redamancy flashed in your mind: being alone together on holidays, his annoying aubades he would sing to wake you up in the morning, even to the smallest bits like when you both experienced a plethora of sleepless nights to talk about pointless things.

All in all, the admirable sentiment was evocative — one would of had to be blind to overpass the comely connection shared between you and Jaehyung.

But as limpid the raw intimacy was, nothing changed between you two. There were no proper dates, no surprising gifts — everything remained stagnant. All because you and Jaehyung kept each other’s thoughts at bay, afraid to disrupt the equanimous friendship that took years to construct.

Regret rained down on your being that day when you formally parted from him, kissing goodbye to the city and not your childhood love, but as you were being driven away by your parents in the back of the vehicle, it was already too late.

You remember it clearly: how you sat in the backseat that day wishing that the seats would engulf your tearful being. At that point anything would have felt better than the void in your stomach created by the one who would typically fill it. Your world was like a picturesque halcyon, a state of jocularity that you were able to share with him.

But it became nothing.

You recall staring down at the silly letter, tears seeping into the paper as you were no longer able to hold back such withering emotions. You ran your fingertips over the surface, unable to bring yourself to rip it open and reveal its contents. It took a couple of deep breaths to calm your nerves, but you finally did.

Inside the packed paper rested a letter and a necklace — his necklace of a miniature acoustic guitar similar to the one he carried like a talisman. You gawked at the matching jewelry, intransigent and unsure of what to think. Aside from the extensive amount of memories and mere snapshots of each other, you had something from him, puzzled on why.

That was, until you unfolded the letter.

Every ounce of weight that had piled on was alleviated off your shoulders when you read four simple words; a promise established in blue ink:

“Until we meet again.”

–

There is one day left before the start of Spring. Your world has never ran jejune for a second, felicit air sempiternal since your arrival into the new city.

You wake to the melodious chirps of the birds outside your apartment window, a peaceful tune that is a stark contrast to your typical blares of your alarm clock. As long as you have been living in the fresh city for four years, it still feels new to you. You groan, arm sailing to the bed stand to grab onto your phone, groggy. A scintilla of light streaks on your face when you flutter your eyes open, the illumination more unpleasant to your eyes than the brightness of your screen.

You squint your eyes as an attempt to focus your vision, trying to read the time — only to find out that you are an hour late for your breakfast date. You yank your blankets off your bed and raise yourself up quickly, eyes flaring wide when your mind finally catches up to the situation.

Your thumbs race over the screen of your phone, rapidly sending the first message.

[10:02 AM] You: are you up?

You purse your lips into a pout, anticipating an angry response but within seconds you retrieve the opposite.

[10:03 AM] My angel: Of course. Ive been waiting for you to wake up for an hour!! Way to stand me up

You smile at his message, the slight humor the same as always.

[10:03 AM] My angel: haha, i’m sorry. i forgot to set my alarm but at least i slept some more for once

[10:04 AM] My angel: Im joking :)

[10:04 AM] My angel: Still down for breakfast?

[10:05 AM] You: brunch*

[10:05 AM] My angel: Ill take that as a yes

[10:05 AM] You: same spot? you always order the same stupid chicken and waffles

[10:06 AM] My angel: You already know me, haha. Those are delicious too!! Ill see you in twenty?

[10:06 AM] You: thirty*

[10:06 AM] My angel: <3

You pull yourself out of bed, yawning and stretching prior to creating a cup of coffee. Your apartment is as quiet as ever as you walk through it, the only dull sound being your soft footsteps on the hardwood floor. As the liquid seeps into the glass pot you wait patiently, eyes still struggling to keep themselves open; that is, until you finally pour yourself a cup and down it.

The effect is enlivening, traces of fatigue being drawn out of your body as you prepare to get ready.

It is a typical Tuesday morning; nothing too out of the blue or disturbing, just like every other. The sun appears at its peak despite it barely being ten, and your body is quite the opposite. Desultory, you dress yourself and constantly check the time on your phone to see if you are somehow running late.

Within moments you are out the door, on time to meet up with your boyfriend just as promised. The streets are vast, cars barely adorning the streets as you walk by. It feels as if the sun peeping out in the sky is only a decoy, for the chill breeze practically overtakes every hint of heat — so much for summer.

It does not take long for you to arrive at the location: a dingy diner that juxtaposes with the modern architect of the town. Despite its antique exterior, within the confinements of the restaurants radiates sentiments of joy that come in the form of a simple breakfast plate, or even the muted tunes that emit from the speakers.

You stride onto the checkered tiles of the perimeter, the redolence of sweet syrup and fresh coffee swirling together in the air. Seating yourself, you situate yourself at the corner booth — the signature area for you and your boyfriend since the first date — and peruse the menu. It is a first that you arrive prior to your boyfriend; he usually takes punctuality quite seriously.

You cross your ankles as you skim the options, words not sinking in your mind — you are going to be ordering the same breakfast meal anyway. A few more people flood inside and out of the diner, none of them being your awaited partner, and you release a sigh.

Setting down the menu, your eyes fixate on the entrance of the door hoping that with every swing your boyfriend would be the one to waltz past it. You try to focus on the tunes as you wait for him and the waiter, but the thoughts of him arriving keep poking the back of your mind. It is not until you release another sigh for you to realize that there is a shadow being casted over you. You turn your head towards the cause and your heart almost leaps to your throat

Standing beside your signature table is not the same man that you constantly visit the diner; a familiar face, but one you have not seen in years.

And it takes you by surprise entirely.

Your eyes flare wide, two orbs like blown glass the more your mind refuses to fathom who is standing before you.

From the round glasses the summer blonde hair, skin gently kissed by the heavenly sun, you recognize him within a heartbeat. It takes a couple of moments for your mind to comprehend, but everything appears to fall into place the second he flashes that same signature grin.

It is not your boyfriend standing by the table — not the man you have been waiting for — but it is none other than Jaehyung.

You are rendered speechless, sentences lodged in your throat and the few that make it past has the words dissipating on your tongue. After all, what are you supposed to do when you have an accidental encounter with your childhood friend? Communication with Jaehyung came to a standstill two years ago, the routine of texting each other frequently easing away; it did not take long for, even the most diminutive of, conversations to vanish entirely.

Looking at him, those same eyes that always fill with wonder, your thoughts become a whirlwind and you cannot make a simple attempt to break the silence that is being shared. The music in the diner along with the constant chatter withers to white noise, providing you with a feel that you and Jaehyung are the only two people in the diner.

“I,” you begin, surprised. “Jaehyung?” you say his name, unsure.

He blinks twice, mind just as dazed as your own. “Y-yeah… Y/N, it’s been a while.” He smiles brighter, a look of assurance.

“What are you doing here?” you ask while urging him to sit down with you.

He accepts the offer and situates himself right across from you, fingers interlacing on the surface. “I was just in the area, I didn’t think I’d see you here.” He corrects himself, “Actually, I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

His words leave his mouth easily, a polar opposite to how you are unable to articulate your thoughts. You nod, paying attention more to the changes in his appearance than the depth of his words. “I didn’t think so either.”

His smile never falters, pearly whites still gleaming your way. “But… wow. You look different,” he comments, lighthearted.

You laugh. “I can say the same about you.”

“So,” he changes the subject, “how have you been?”

You hum, taking a moment to think. “Great,” you tell him. “Better because I’m getting my breakfast soon especially. What about you?”

“Good,” he responds, immediate. The waiter stops by and fills the empty mugs on the table with coffee, which are quickly followed with a small glass of water. The worker leaves and the conversation resumes like normal. “I’m still working on music and such.”

“That’s great to hear.” You smile. You avert your eyes from his own to look out the window; not in search of your boyfriend, and not as a distraction to shift from the situation, but to collect your thoughts briefly. “Hey,” you turn your attention to him, recalling a significant factor. “Do you still have your tiny guitar charm? The one that matches with what you gave me the day I left.”

Jaehyung appears taken aback, surprised at how you remember such a small item. “Why?” He raises an eyebrow. “Do you still wear it?” he questions, light hearted as if he expects the answer to be a “no.”

Instead, you reach for the long string around your neck, the item hidden by your clothing. You tug it out into the open, showing it off to your friend and on the spot, his smile dwindles. “I said I would never take it off,” you inform.

Jaehyung laughs, content. He sails his hands to his pockets, ready to pull out his keychain as he says, “Funny, because I actually—”

“—Y/N!” someone interrupts. You raise your eyebrows at the calling, head turning when you recognize the voice. Jaehyung halts, blood in his body practically freezing.

“Younghyun!” you say, recognizing the face. “Finally, I’ve been waiting here for a long time.”

Younghyun chuckles and plants a light kiss on your cheek when he sits himself next to you. “Sure you were,” he comments. His attention drifts to the man across from him, unfamiliar and a tad awkward. “Who is this?”

“Ah.” You chime, “This is Jaehyung. He’s the friend I told you about back when I lived in the small city.”

“Oh,” he hesitates, unsure thoughts crossing his mind, “I’m Younghyun, it’s nice to meet you.”

Jaehyung only nods at him, a tight smile etching on his face — his version of saying hello to someone a little unwanted for the time being,

“Jae,” you call. “This is my boyfriend, Younghyun.”

“B-boyfriend?” Jaehyung says lowly, swallowing his breath. He rests his palms on his lap, cancelling the action to pull out his keys. “Nice to meet you,” he says.

But by the time he voices his “hello,” it feels as if he is not wanted in the situation, for you are already far too engaged in a heated stare with Younghyun. Jaehyung cannot pull himself to speak, his tongue running as dry as sand the more he lingers in your presence.

He discreetly watches the way Younghyun takes your hand in his, fingers interlaced, and Jaehyung cannot help but wonder what it would be like if he was in your position — if he was the one to hold you lovingly and have these breakfast dates with you frequently.

It isn’t until he clears his throat and uncomfortably shifts in his seat for him to gain your attention again. You force a smile, remember the earlier conversation. “So, what were saying about the charm?”

“Nothing much,” he fibs, hands balling into fists on his lap. There is a long line of silence shared between you two, a quietude that strangers experience with one another. Younghyun quirks the corner of his lips up, taking note of the situation and he tries to diminish his presence.

Jaehyung continues, “I was just going to say that I lost mine a long time ago.”

Your smile fades at the words you thought you would never hear. He broke the small news so easily, and with a slight chuckle — almost as if the charm had no relevance to begin with, like it was never a silent promise for a reunion. This time, you are frozen and left on the edge of unsure thoughts.

“I should go,” Jaehyung tells you. “Music calls.”

But before you can tell him goodbye, he lifts himself from the seat and starts to amble to the exit. You watch his physique quickly saunter, like the moment shared between you two was toxic, and he turns to do a small wave.

You wave back and Younghyun grips harder onto your hand, a small sign to let you know that everything is okay — whatever everything is.

As Jaehyung is a foot out the door he glances one last time at you at the corner table, catching your fetching grin by someone else’s side — someone that is not him. He smiles to himself, happy to see you are well, and slips out his car keys from the depths of his pocket.

He gawks at it for a little, adoring the matching acoustic guitar that dangles on its chain. After all, he said he would never lose it — the item that promised a reunion, a chance to tell you that throughout all the years, he loved you.

[jawllines]

OkAY SO THIS IS THE GUARDIAN ANGEL (KIND OF) ONE SHOT I STARTED A LONG TIME AGO LEMME KNOW IF YALL ARE INTERESTED IN IT

The night air was cold despite the earlier onslaught from the sun, enough so to riddle Y/N's skin with goose pimples and pebble her nipples to stone. A near icy feeling bench isn't the best spot for a college student at midnight on a Saturday, but she was trying to catch the last bus to her apartment after closing at work, so her seating options were limited. It was either this bench or take her chances sitting next to a suspicious looking puddle on the ground, and she'd much rather her bum freeze off than get anywhere near it.

See, the thing is, Y/N needs to start saying no to people. Truly, it is probably her worst attribute -- a lack of  a backbone when it comes to sweet old women who waddle about and run bakeries. Miss. Mandolin is just as saccharine as any cupcake, and gave her a raise last week, so declining was not an option, especially finding out that if she didn't then Miss. Mandolin herself would be the one closing. However, while that same sweet old woman is tucked away cozy and warm in her bed, and Y/N has become a distant relative of an icicle, she is mad regretting being so softhearted.

Her day hadn't been all too hard, just some bread baking and cake icing, but she feels proper dog walked. She'd been there since 9AM, working two shifts because she agreed to it last week and past her really hates present her, apparently, because she'd even agreed to come back tomorrow night as well. It's fine though, she does need the money, and when she gets to work it's not so terrible, it's just the thought of working that taunts her mercilessly.

So all she wanted to do with the rest of her night is to eat the muffins she took with her and pretend not to smell the copious amounts of pot they're undoubtedly smoking next door. Then maybe watch TV with her laptop on her belly and pass out like that, or flop down on the floor and sleep for a few years, or even just digging into her sheets not bothering to adorn herself in pajamas, just stark naked in her bed because she couldn't be arsed to put anything back on. The thought of sleep is just so lovely, really, all nestled in the covers with the whir of her fan going and the steady thump of the cat who lives above her freaking out and running back and forth and back and forth all throughout the night. She'd like to cuddle her stuffed bear tonight as elementary as it sounds, but his fur was soft and nice to rest on, and Y/N had no human to cuddle so he was the second best thing.

These pleasant thoughts are cut short when the lamp post above her begins to flicker in the most ominous fashion; first only slightly, like a hint that the bulb is about to give out soon before it's light drops out to nothing but a dim glow, then comes back, then repeats, and makes a terrible horror movie esque buzzing noise with it. It's then her brain processes that the street she was on was basically deserted, no sign of people or cars anywhere, not even with the strip of clubs and bars just a few blocks away. The wind picks up only to ruffle the trees leaves and make things even creepier, and Y/N's now hesitantly looking down each street to see if there were any headlights coming her way.

"Well, this stinks." She says it to herself, only to have some noise other than all the eerie one's surrounding her. Now that she's hearing all these noises though, even scarier ones start manifesting in the once quiet air and she's proper spooked, tucking her arms further around herself. Just a little while longer right? It's only. . .only 12:15, and the bus should've been here at 12:00 but that's fine, maybe it's a little late.

If it could be a little less late that would sure be fantastic, but beggars can't be choosers, and a bummy light plus some weird wind are just every night occurrences that Y/N shouldn't be scared of.

What Y/N should be scared of, however, is the black blobby mass materializing in front of her, hissing like a snake, glooping into a human form with beady eyes and a sickening grin. That's something to be frightened of, surely, like total horror movie material that she was not expecting and Y/N squeals like an old school Damsel before scurrying up. "What the -- what the hell?" She gasp as it slithers a hand in her direction and she dodges it, stumbling a little ways away from it even if it meant leaving the little light that was left.

"Say, you can see me?" It's voice is distorted and sounds like there's mush in it's mouth, but she can make out the words, nodding slow, her face screwed up and a gross, slimy tongue falls out to lick around it's lips, "That makes this even better! So much tastier when you're scared."

Did she just hear him right? Tastier?

A sweat builds on her neck despite what had previously been such a frosty feeling night, and as it's gloopy, gloppy hand is trying to reach out for her again Y/N tosses her heavy plate of muffins right at it's face before pivoting on her heel and taking off in the other direction. This was 100% not how she expected nor wanted her night to go -- this was something for story books and movies only, and she didn't want to be the opening scene because that character always gets written off early on. If her life wanted to start being blockbuster worthy why couldn't it have been a proper romantic comedy or something? Why a gross looking creature that she's running away from with her springy cupcake ended work headband on (which were totally overrated and outdated, but Miss. Mandolin loved them so she wore it despite herself)?

Her flats bound against the ground with sharp clicks that echo in the streets, and she doesn't need to look back to know the thing is just about nipping at her heels. It has to be a dream, doesn't it? It feels so real but not real all in the same breath, mostly how the cool air is hitting at her cheeks. So refreshing and enlivening, it's confusing her greatly, and she isn't quite sure what to do. If this is a dream, she could stop running right now and she would probably be consumed by black matter but wake up all sweaty necked in her bed. If it isn't a dream, then she gets consumed and that's it, done-zo, outta here, no more Y/N for anyone. And let it be noted, if she dies because of some weird, drooly, droppy skinned creature she's going to be so fucking pissed off.

"Slow down, Sweetheart, let's have a little fun." It growls and Y/N presses herself onward, holding the strap of her purse tightly to her and feeling it bump on her thigh.

"Shut up!" She shouts at it, before a slimy hand is wrapping around her ankle and tripping her up, sending her to the ground.

The next few moments were in slow motion.

First there was a burst of wind that nearly knocked her over, like a car might have zipped past them but she knows no car was in sight nor heard beyond very distant noise of the highway. Second an arm wraps around her waist just before she smashes her face into the concrete, warm and firm, making a small 'umph' come out of her unintentionally. Then suddenly with a bright flash of white light Y/N sees from behind her eyelids, the hand at her ankle is gone and she's dangling in midair around this arm of an unknown assailant. She doesn't know if this is good or if this is bad, but she feels her consciousness slowly fading in little fizzling bubbles that disperse quickly and she's sinking into nothingness, almost, it feels like falling asleep but also something completely different.

"Pain in m'arse." She hears someone grumble, and then she's out like a light. '

                                                                         .                      .                     .

"A woman obtaining beauty at such a high degree as yourself deserves this pastry for free," Y/N rolls her eyes listening to her Charlie (her coworker) try is hand in wooing someone while she sweeps up crumbs and the paper from straws up into the dustpan, "Make sure you come back soon." She doesn't have to watch to know he sends her off with a wink and Y/N waits for the door bells to jingle before starting up.

"Why do you keep trying to court girls using free goodies?" She asks for what might be the hundredth time, standing up with a huff and tilting the dustpan into the bin, "They'll see you as nothing more than a sweet mouthed push over."

He pouts at her, leaning over the counter with his face lying in his palms, "Don't be like that cutie, I know your jealous over all these people swooning over me but there is little I can do. I'm a hot commodity don't you know?"

"Hot commodity my ass," she grumbles, "Maybe in a crypt."

Y/N's just being a grump and he knows that -- Charlie has never once doubted his looks, even when Y/N's tries to bring him down a few pegs, so he doesn't take her all too seriously. Instead chuckling before reaching out as far as he could and whisking the broom from her hand, "What's got you in such a temper today, Pet? Your neighbors keep you up all night with their music?"

If only it were that simple, she thought to herself. Truth be told, Y/N doesn't know why she's in such a mood. When she woke up this morning she was in pajamas and a few face wipes were scattered on her bedside table like she used them because she was too lazy to wash her face. Her head was pounding, her stomach growling, and a throb in her ankle that was so unbearable she stuck in bed most of the morning until she could coax herself out to get a pain pill. Bits and pieces of the dream she had the night before come to her in confusing, fuzzy bursts and memories of how she got home are lost to her in a doughy mess. Somehow she'd gotten to her bed, she just wishes she could remember the steps it took to get there.

She just felt weird today, really, and maybe that was making her a little harsher, so she shrugs at Charlie before mumbling, "M'sleepy." And he coos at her.

"You're just adorable when you're all grumpy-like, Cutie." Charlie had always been a flirty little bugger, but his cool façade had crumbled to Y/N when she witnessed him cry over a TV show, so his charms fell useless on her. That doesn't stop him from going at it, however, because he's her best friend and likes to tease and Charlie's form of teasing gets mushed with his flirting a lot, including drenching her in pet names until she resembles something of a river soaked rat, "How about I close tonight and you skedaddle on home?"

Y/N shakes her head, sighing heavily, "Not a chance. Last time you closed we got robbed --"

"Oi, you make one mistake and nobody lets you live it down!"

"And besides," she continues, swinging through the door to get behind the counter so she could hook the broom and dust pan up and grab for the mop, "You've got your Econ exam you need to study for."

With a hearty huff, he flops into his arms,  "I don't want to!" His whines come out muffled by his skin, "It's like a foreign language, honestly, and the professor is shit. Plus the --" there's a jingle of the bell at the door and his head snatches towards the side, a big grin tugging at his lips as he straightens himself out, "Well what brings a beauty like you in here?"

Y/N scoffs lowly -- damn playboy can't even keep his mind on his work for a second.

As she tunes out Charlie's wooing of the customer, Y/N tries to make sense of last night again. Even though it's muddled and puddled, she still would like to know how she got home but between leaving here and waking up this morning, she remembers nothing. Eight hours just lost. . .that's never happened to her before. She walked out of the store, locked the door, got to the bus stop. . .what happened after the bus stop then? She remembers being cold. . .was the bus late? Did she end up walking home? The latter wouldn't be so surprising seeing as her legs burn like she took part in some sort of physical exertion last night. There was. . .if she pushes past the fog in her head there was something -- something scaring her? Or was that a part of her nightmare last night?

Aish, this is too much!

"You come back now!" Charlie calls and it brings Y/N back down to the present, watching him flop back over himself and moan sadly, "Who cares about Monopoly and Cartels anyways?"

Y/N guesses it can't be helped now. She got home safe, was all that counted, and besides the pain in her ankle there was nothing out of the ordinary when she woke, so really she should be able to let it go. What does it matter how she got there, she got there which is the important thing. She just needs to live in the present and not think about last night. Like -- last night? Who is she? Never heard of her -- like that.

So instead she turns her attention back to Charlie, "You need to care because I'm booking on mooching off of you for the rest of our lives, so I need you to be a hot shot business man. Got it?"

Charlie peeks up to her, grinning, "Got it, Cutie."

                                                                              .                     .                  .

Y/N is getting a mad sense of Deja vu, as she sits shivering on the park bench again.

The light above her begins to flicker, and Y/N feels uneasy.

The bus still hasn't shown up and it's fifteen minutes past midnight.

This is a horror movie waiting to happen, isn't it?

She's terribly tired, and now she's all snuffled from the air. Holding herself in her arms as if to gain some warmth from it, but it doesn't help as much as she would like. So she shakes and shivers and curses the damn bus driver who is taking their good ol' time making it to her stop. Granted she usually isn't the one who closes so she doesn't normally have to take this bus and she's not sure how the times work here, but the bulletin board posted says it should be here by 12 like all the other busses around town.

Huffing, she slouches more in the bench. This freaking stinks -- honest to goodness she doesn't even think the money is worth it at this point; freezing her bits off by herself on a dark, empty street with a crummy light post light. At least she's gotten to take some goodies home, so they sit in her lap on a plate and her stomach grumbles to remind her the last time she ate was before her shift, which started around two this afternoon. She swears as soon as she gets home she's going to get all cozied up in her bed, steam something online and shove these muffins down her throat. Her only class tomorrow is at 4PM, so she should be fine to just do as she pleases for a little while tonight.

A sigh of content is about to leave her lips when she hears something like a hissing sound, and her brows furrow. That couldn't be a snake, could it? They never really show themselves anywhere apart from untouched fields and in the thick of he woods, so it wouldn't make much sense for it to just be hanging around. With brows furrowed, she looks around for it -- where could it be? She stands up so she can bend down, looking beneath the bench and into the tufts of grass.

While she expected to find a snake, instead she sees a sickly face staring back at her, with eyes two red slits and it's skin slimy, dropping around him.

Oh yeah.

Before she could buckle down to scream, an arm slips beneath her stomach and heaves her up easily, "For fuck sake," the mysterious person utters, "Two nights in a row with this?"

Y/N doesn't know if he's talking to her or to the thing, just dangling off his arm and watching the gross guy seep from beneath the bench and build himself up back to a human form before them. So this wasn't a dream? This was what she forgot happening last night wasn't it? Or was this just a reoccurring dream she's destined to have forever?

"If you'd stayed out of it, it would've only been one night." The creature has mush mouth again, but it's still easy enough to make out it's words and it's intentions of doing away with her.

Brows furrowing, she shoves her head up, "Hey, I resent that, I could've gotten away if --"

"You," the person holding her utters, and his voice sounds awful familiar, giving her a squeeze from his arm around her waist, "Keep quiet. This bus stop doesn't even run anymore, and who goes to the same spot where something tried to kill her?"

"Oi, I thought that was a dream in my defense! Honestly, I didn't even know most of it happened -- wait a minute, who are you?"

"Just be quiet for a mo' yeah? Close your eyes." Y/N doesn't know why she feels compelled to listen, but she shuts her eyes as she's told -- skewers them closed so she doesn't have to see that gross thing again, and once more, with a bright flash of light that dazzles beneath her closed eyelids and a grunt from her savior the hissing sound is gone. When she opens her eyes again, the gloopy gloppy guy is also absent, which is good, and the arm around her loosens so her feet hit the ground again and she straightens herself out.

Finally she goes to take a look at him, and he's got a hoodie on and he's facing away from her, "Ya' aren't allowed to know who I am." He answers her before she can ask again, which makes her frown.

"Says who?"

"Says me," he rejoins, "Go home now, and be quick about -- hey!"

Y/N had snuck behind him and tugged his hood down because there was no way she was just going to let him mosey on off without having some inkling of an idea of who he was. When she's met with the makings of curls her brows furrow, because theirs only one head like that she knows of and there was absolutely no way it was him. He's like famous and whatnot -- has better things to do than save wimpy college students who keep running into monsters.

But when she swings around to confirm that it definitely isn't him, she gasps, mouth falling open wide and eyes bulging from her head. Y/N doesn't mean to squeak, but she does, and it's very well about to turn into a shout in shock because oh my fucking god!

His hand -- Harry Styles' hand -- smacks over her mouth, muting whatever could have come from her, "Shush, shush, shush!"

"You!" Her grumps are muffled by his palm, "You're --"

"I know who I am, Love, you haven't got to say it." He sighs, eyes shutting, "Christ, this is just great innit?"

They stay like that for a moment, Y/N only blinking owlishly at him while he mutters angrily to himself. This is Harry Styles -- a guy she's idolized since she was just a wee lil middle schooler, in eighth grade with a terrible fashion sense and poofy hair -- standing in front of her with his hand on her face, after saving her from some weird thing. What was he doing out here so late? How did he know what to do with that creature? Why was he being so short and tetchy like she'd done something wrong?

This was all so weird and she had so many questions, but he didn't seem to want to answer any of them and she's trying not to give him heart eyes as they stand, but if she is she really can't help it. It was too dark to make out all his features, but the lamp post gave just enough light to shadow his jawline and the curve of his nose. Surely he was sculpted for the gods, and it was a little hard to stand in his presence, especially when he had this smoldering gaze looking past her. As untouchable as he looked in pictures, he looks even more untouchable now -- feels even more untouchable, despite them 100% touching.

His eyes flicker to her own and somehow hers feel as if they grew even wider, "You will go home, and forget of this, yeah? Pretend tonight didn't happen." Gently, he releases her but Y/N stays put, brows furrowed greatly.

"Well I can tell you that that isn't going to happen at all. I have so many questions --"

"And I can answer none of them right now, so please listen to me. It's not safe for you out here."

Y/N would fight it again -- really she would, if not for the thumping of her heart and a voice in the back of her head pleading with her to listen to him. He looks so tired, like he hadn't slept properly in weeks and for some reason she feels like it might be her fault. The least she could do was just go home, be safe like he apparently wanted. And when she gets home she would try and sort this out in her head, maybe do a panicked gleeful squeal into her pillow, and sit on her hands to keep from texting Charlie immediately.

So with a sigh, Y/N peels back the saran wrap on her plate of goodies and reaches for an iced lemon cookie in the shape of a butterfly, holding it out to him. Harry looks at her suspiciously, eyes squinting, "Take it," she urges him, "As a thank you for saving me."

"I save your life and you give me a cookie?"

She grabs his hand with a huff and shoves the cookie into it, "Don't be a jerk and eat the cookie, I made it myself."

With this she pivots on her heel, taking a deep breath before starting on her way home while keeping her freaking out to a minimum and inside of her head.

"Oi," he calls from behind her, "You're walking the wrong way."

        .                                .                               .

It'd been two weeks since it had happened and within those two weeks Y/N has successfully not made any sense of it. She'd been over the main points again and again and again, but this was harder than analyzing Shakespeare her freshmen year of high school. Nothing connected in any sort of way: a scary blobby man, Y/N, and Harry Styles was just not a trio easily explained apparently, and it was annoying the fresh hell out of her. Y/N liked having answers to things. Mysteries and fantasy were only fun in tv shows, movies, and books, but when it comes to real life and her life she liked definitive proof and explanation, but this current happening was null of any clarification.

She'd not told Charlie about it, because knowing Charlie he would brush it off as a dream just as she had at the beginning. There was no way this could be a dream though -- not when a bruise is formed around her ankle, the yellow icing butterfly cookie was missing on her platter of sweets, and the buzzing warmth inside of her from meeting Harry Styles in the flesh. Despite his snappy tone with her, she still felt all muddled and tender on he inside. Those weren't feelings you could just (italicize this) make up.  . .meeting your idol was something you remember, and she remembered that.

Even though it made not a lick of sense, she remembered. The first night too, had even come back to her in blurry splotches of someone lugging her along and up the steps. Bleary eyes opening for a moment at the feeling of someone swiping her face with a cleansing wipe and shushing at her to close her eyes again, "S'fine, Moppet, go to sleep." Blankets being tucked around her body, the pillow being repositioned, and though she had listened and closed her eyes as requested, she could feel a tender gaze peering at her.

Though that really doesn't help her case in the slightest, about not understanding what was going on. How he could show up so suddenly, when she could've sworn she read he was in London. How he got rid of that thing. . .that completely not human thing, and how he did it with one arm occupied by her. It was driving her batty, not having answers and he hadn't seemed so open about giving any to her.

And I can answer none of them right now, so please listen to me. It's not safe for you out here. (italicize that)

He'd looked so tired when he said it, and she felt genuinely bad. That's why she let it go and skipped on. . .it felt like she was at fault for him being so worn out, but how could she be? Sure, two late nights were rough, but she didn't look half as sleepy as he did and she had been on her feet for more than seven hours each time.

It was annoying -- so freaking annoying!

Y/N huffs through her nose, stepping up to the same bus stop she'd been those two nights. The sky was painted an orangey pink, navy seeping in through the East threatening the town with darkness. She knows it's pretty dumb to go to the same spot where she had previously been in danger, but she figured that maybe Harry would show up again and she could get him to explain some stuff. Or maybe he wouldn't, and the past week has just proved she was on the verge of a psychotic break, but she was shooting for the first scenario.

So she toes at a patch of grass near the bench, taking a look at the street she was on. People here were sparse and the street didn't look any less creepy than it did at midnight, but she felt a little better than she did that night given that she wasn't half awake and she had hid pepper spray in her bag in case things got rough. Plus there was the small comfort knowing that if the creature showed up again then maybe Harry would show up too to save her, which would be nice, because that's why she's doing this in the first place.

With a hearty sigh, she plops down on the bench and leans back into it.

She'll wait for a while.

                                                                                    .                           .                          .

"How long were you intending to wait, Pet?" A voice startles her eyes open which she hadn't realized she'd shut, knuckling at one eye while looking towards who she'd been waiting for. There he stood in a light, heather grey hoodie without the hood pulled up -- she guesses since the cat is already out of the bag with her knowing who he is, he isn't going to bother covering it up. "Closing your eyes in a place like this. S'almost like you're askin' for trouble."

She blinks at him, rising to a stand, "It's you."

"Well, what? Were you waitin' for the other guy?"

"Not funny," she grumbles, "I-" She's got questions. . .she's got plenty of questions but she can't figure out which ones to ask, or how to ask them.

[lyannas]

A Thousand Silhouettes - Part One

Summary: The last thing Brandon Stark remembered was darkness, and it was darkness he woke to.

Brandon Stark survives King's Landing with scars both physical and emotional. The world as he knew it has changed, and at the center of it all is a bastard boy with his mother's eyes.

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Fandoms: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin Relationships: Brandon Stark & Lyanna Stark, Brandon Stark & Ned Stark, Jon Snow & Brandon Stark Tags: Brandon Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Uncle-Nephew Relationship, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, (just in case), Platonic Relationships, Family Dynamics Chapters: 1/4

Read at AO3, or read here:

I.

The last thing Brandon Stark remembered was darkness, and it was darkness he woke to.

Blinking did not change that fact. All around him was black, and the bitter cold. Am I dead? There must be a reason for all this darkness-- there must also be a reason for all this pain.

His neck burned. When Brandon raised his hand to touch it, he felt a length of cloth, wet with blood. He pulled it off ignoring how his nerves screamed, and felt the ridges along his bloody skin-- with it came a fresh wellspring of pain. Touching the wounds that wrapped around his neck, Brandon tapped into his memory, and remembered.

If Brandon had the voice to scream, he would have. If he had the strength to weep, he would have.

II.

A gaelor came with light and a plate of gruel.

Brandon squinted against the approaching light, before recoiling at the heat of the fire. The growl in his throat was strangled as he choked on the smell of burning flesh, of a blood red throne room, two ropes against his throat-- in poor time, the horror faded away into the gaelor's wretched face. When the man came near, Brandon tried to spit in his eye. Nothing but a rain of spittle left his lips.

The gaelor laughed. “I wouldna do that if I were you,” he said, his voice low and cruel. “Else you won’t get any food at all.”

“Water,” Brandon demanded hoarsely, not brought low enough to beg.

“You think this is some feast? I’m no servant to fetch water and wine for the little lord. Do yourself a favor, and die quickly. If the black cells don’t kill you, the king surely will.”

Not if I kill him first , he would have said if his dry mouth could form words.

III.

Brandon remembered a week he spent in the wolfswood with nothing but his sword, a bow, and the clothes on his back.

He had been sixteen, and had told Lord Dustin he was going to ride home to Winterfell for a visit. His men left him just before the winter town, trusting him to ride the rest of the way to the gates of Winterfell without issue. Brandon stopped in an inn to sit and drink a mug of ale while he waited for the men to ride far enough away. He then left his horse in the stables, and walked the rest of the way to the wolfswood.

He wanted to see if he could survive.

On the first day, he killed a fawn. He skinned it for its hide, and cooked it over a fire, foolishly scarfing every bit of meat down, arrogant enough to think that he’d find food the next day.

He didn’t. Not even a hare had crossed his path, and Brandon starved and shivered for three days. On the fourth, he came across a lone wolf. It was a black-eyed wolf with grey fur who circled Brandon, silently snarling. He was moving slow enough to kill; Brandon could have flown an arrow between its eyes, worn its pelt for warmth, and rationed its meat over the next couple of days.

Brandon didn’t. The wolf seemed to nod at him before it slinked away. An hour later, Brandon had killed a stag, 3 hares, and a pheasant.

Four days later, he had been sleeping happily beneath his furs on the cool grass when his father’s men came upon him. Apparently, Lord Rickard had been a breath away from arresting Lord Dustin and the men he sent to escort Brandon for carelessly losing his firstborn son. Brandon had grinned in his father’s stern face when he recounted how well he done out in the wild, and begged him to let him return. His father did the opposite, and placed guards outside his room, where he was confined for the same amount of time that he had spent free.

The memory of his father both pained him and enlivened him. Brandon could survive this black cell. He could survive anything. He had to.

IV.

He had friends in the castle, though he does not know who. It was not the king-- that much was certain, but he knew that someone had interest in keeping him alive and well.

Meat showed up in his gruel from time to time. An entire leg of lamb, or a cut of mutton, or a thin slab of steak would appear, and he ate it at it over the course of days, ignoring how it spoiled, until the next one showed up. The gaelor brought him a torch to keep in his cell, one that Brandon squinted against and agonized over for days before he could open his eyes and smell his own piss again. A maester came to clean the wounds around his neck and replace the bandages. Even the straw in his cell was refreshed every now and again.

“Who sends you?” He growled at the maester, feeling more beast than man chained up in darkness. His voice was harsh and rough from disuse, echoing off the walls with the sound a rusted sword might make when put to the whetstone.

“The king intends for you to die down here-- or he’s forgotten about you, who can say? The man who sends me thinks you’re worth more alive,” the young maester said feebly. His chain was markedly short, shorter than Walys’s had been.

“Does your master want to kill the king?”

The maester looked startled. “I do not think so.”

“Then why would he want me alive?”

V.

He had spent 413 days in his cell by the time Ned came to him.

He thought it had been a dream. He thought his brother was coming to him across the river of death, prepared to ferry him across and embrace him. He nearly wept at the thought that Ned was among the dead, but it was no dream after all. Ned and Ethan Glover each put one of his arms around their necks and led him out into the brightest light Brandon had ever seen.

It was Ned who cut his hair and shaved him. It was even Ned who bathed him. His eyes were shut, but he knew it was Ned by his quiet voice, though it was different than he remembered it. It was a man’s voice. A voice that had seen and suffered.

“We didn’t know if you were alive,” his brother admittedly somberly. “They never sent us any bones. We thought you were dead.” Minutes later: “I married Catelyn Tully in your place. A useless union now-- but she… She is with child. Perhaps there is still a way...”

“Take her,” Brandon had rasped. “Take her, and Winterfell too. I don’t want it.”

“But--"

“I don’t want it.” It was an honest confession, and one that Brandon doubted he’d regret. Power, responsibility, marriage, children-- Brandon wanted nothing to do with them anymore. “Is Lya with you?” His brother had grown silent over that, and it jarred him enough to force him to open a stinging eye. “Where is she?”

“We don’t know yet,” Ned said as he frowned. Gods, he look different. He even had a beard. “I’ll find her, Brandon, I promise. I’ll bring her home.”

“That was my job,” Brandon said between gritted teeth. “I was to drive a sword through Rhaegar’s black heart, and bring her home.”

“Rhaegar’s dead, Brandon,” his brother said.

“And the mad king?”

“Dead too. Jaime Lannister killed him-- Robert is king now.”

“Robert Baratheon?”

“Yes. He killed Rhaegar at the Trident.”

“Damn Robert. Damn the Lannister pup too--” Brandon growled, as hot tears streaked down his cheeks. “They were mine to kill.”

VI.

Ned left the next day to carry out the king’s business. None visit him but for Robert, but only once. Brandon was still squinting and unused to bright light when he came, but he could recall his arrogant voice with unpleasant ease.

“I’ve avenged Lyanna, but I won’t rest until she’s in my arms again,” Robert pledged, his voice as obnoxious and thundering as he had remembered, even more so to Brandon’s sensitive senses. “I’ve killed Rhaegar, and the Lannisters brought me the bodies of his wife and dragonspawn.”

“A woman and her children?” Brandon inquired, mouth twisting into a scowl. His fire was slowly returning to him, but not quickly enough. “How brave of you lot.”

“If I had gotten to them first, they would have suffered the same,” Robert said. “Lya would have wanted that. Look at what they did to her; look at what they did to you .” He gestured to his neck, and Brandon’s anger flares.

“Do not call her Lya. You haven’t earned the right,” Brandon growled. “You do not know what my sister wants, nor will you ever. Once she’s found, I’m taking her home.”

“We’re betrothed--”

“I’m calling it off.”

“Says the former heir to Winterfell,” Robert spat furiously. He looked the part of a storm lord now, bristling and crackling like thunder. “I’ll have her, as your father promised. She’s mine.”

Brandon did not yet have the strength to laugh, so he settled for a scoff instead. You could not make her yours if you fought a hundred wars for her.

VII.

Brandon was still used to counting days-- 39 pass, and his brother had sent word that he would return soon.

Within that time, Brandon had found a way to open his eyes again, though he had difficulty focusing on objects farther than fifteen feet away, and colors appeared more muted, more grey. More importantly, his strength had returned to him, though the fine muscle that once padded his body had wasted away, color had drained from his skin, and he was left skinny and pale. Such matters could be easily fixed-- with food and sun, perhaps he’d once again resemble the man he was before the black cells.

The scars around his neck, however, were a new and permanent addition. They mimicked the pattern of crisscrossed ropes that he had been bound with, each and every ridge visible, red, and raw. Brandon no longer wore bandages around them-- he would have the whole world see how he cheated death. He would have them see what he would suffer for those he loved.

VIII.

On the 41st day, Ned returned to tell him Lyanna was dead. Dead, and the mother of a child.

Any strength lost to him over the past year returned in a rush, and Brandon had turned over half of his stately room before Ned got a hold of him.

“It’s not right!” Brandon had bellowed as his world fell out from under him. Ned’s touch had rocked him to his knees, and he clutched at his brother’s shirt like a frightened child. His fingers bled from breaking glass and splintering wood, and stained Ned's shirt. “She was only a girl, Ned, she’s not supposed to die, I swore-- I swore-- And that monster-- that monster , you would raise his bastard? The bastard that killed her?” His voice cracked on the last two words. “How could you? How could you?”

“She made me promise, Brandon,” Ned urged him, strong hands gripping his arms. “Promise that I’d protect him, and bring her home.”

“I was supposed to save her,” Brandon wept over and over. “She was only a girl. Our sister, Ned, our sweet little sister--”

Tears mixed with blood on Ned's shirt. The 41st day proved colder and darker than the black cells ever hoped to be.

[renoxa]

How to Breathe New Life into Tired Home Decor Without Breaking the Bank

Marimekko, the Finnish design house, is normally known for it’s bold prints and blooming patterns. I’ve often admired them from afar but felt shy about introducing them into my own home. They are just a bit too bold for me, the colours too bright, and I’ve always felt they suited the light, white Scandinavian homes better. But then I saw these images using products from their new Spring and Summer collections. The blue and white did it for me (although they do have a lot of yellow too), especially in this setting. I love how it brings these rather sombre rooms to life. The new fabrics and stunning new porcelain refreshes the period features, the dark wood and the plain white walls. It got me thinking about the things we can do at home when we need a quick update, without going to all the trouble of redecorating or without spending a fortune. I’m not saying do all of these. Some of the suggestions won’t be practical for some, but it doesn’t hurt occasionally to think outside of the box.

Introduce a New Accent Colour into the Home

Sometimes we get stuck in a rut. The same as when we go clothes shopping and keep instinctively going for colours and styles we already have. We need to branch out more if we expect changes to transform our home, or at least make it feel refreshed. If you have decorated predominately in neutral colours try introducing a new primary colour into the mix. Just a touch or two. If you already have a varied colour scheme going on, try swapping out some of the accessories for a colour you haven’t used before. It certainly won’t break the bank and you can always come back to your initial choices in the future.

Change the Furniture Around

This might be a bit radical but does your home really make the most of the space it has? Is there a chair you have to constantly walk around or a table you keep bumping in to? Often when I walk into the house of a new client, the first suggestion I make is to do with layout. They are usually amazed that they hadn’t thought of my suggestion themselves. It might be something as simple as moving an armchair nearer the window so that it immediately becomes a bright spot in which to read a book. Or changing the position of the bed so that the view from the window can be better enjoyed. The changes don’t have to be big ones, but they can make a big impact on the way the house works for you, and how it looks.

Explore the Possibility of Using Pattern

A lot of people can be afraid of pattern. They often fear that they will tire of it quickly. But pattern doesn’t have to be big and bold and colourful. It can be soft stripes or subtle leaves on a muted background. Introducing pattern can enliven a space and draw the eye. It’s much like putting a large vase of flowers into a room. You immediately notice it and forget that maybe the rest of the room hasn’t changed much.

Delve Deep into Cupboards and Up in the Loft for Forgotten Treasures

We all have them. Things at the back of the cupboard that were buried years ago and long forgotten. Fashions do come around again so it might be worth seeing if there is something in the loft or behind the junk in the garage that you could love again. I’m forever finding old vases (the result of clearing out my parents home sadly) that can be used once more. I’ve recently rehung some old oil paintings too after removing the dated frames. Have a look. Who knows what you’ll find.

Mix Up Your Tableware

Matching tableware is sometimes a bit dull. Just one or two new pieces can add interest to your settings and easily work with what you already have. Maybe your found some bits in the loft (see above!) or in the second hand shop round the corner that are just the right shapes or colour. It doesn’t always have to be brand new. Keeping to a theme will ensure it all works together. So whether your choice is vintage, retro or contemporary, let’s ring the changes.

Invest in Some New Houseplants

This is something I’m definitely going to do in the months ahead. Even those of us who don’t have much luck keeping real plants alive, can usually do so during the spring and summer months. They do make such a difference to the feel of a home. They introduce a touch of nature and freshness that will banish the winter blues. And even if they do die eventually, I always remind myself that they last longer than a bunch of flowers for about the same price. Usually.

All images show the Spring, Summer collections at Marimekko.

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How to Breathe New Life into Tired Home Decor Without Breaking the Bank published first on https://medium.com/@ConklinBros

[phynxrizng]

MONTHLY ASTRO FORECAST FOR JUNE 2017

Monthly Astro-Forecasts June 2017

a message from Sarah-Jane Grace To view more of Sarah-Jane's insight, please visit her website, Sarah-Jane Grace Message for June 2017 Sitting under the shade of the giant Horse Chestnut Tree, it was easy to get lost in the majesty of the moment and listen to the wind whispering with the leaves, watching the dappled sunlight dancing all around me and feeling the silent power of the earth and quiet dignity of the tree flowing through me. I felt interconnected and alive. Every cell within me tingled and every sound, sight and sense was enlivened and refreshed as though I was experiencing this for the first time. Of course, in many ways, I was experiencing this for the first time as every moment’s unique.

Although fleeting, these are precious opportunities to feel wholeheartedly present and alive, yet it’s so hard to keep hold of this as we step back into the everyday humdrum of life. Life can be unquestionably difficult, challenging, overwhelming and confusing at times, and when we find ourselves in such situations, it can be hard to notice the majesty of the moment as we’re simply too busy trying to do the best we can. Even though we may not notice the magic, it doesn’t mean it stops happening, does it?

Does a tree falling in a forest make a sound or do we create that sound because we are perceiving the moment? Similarly, does the tree only emanate quiet dignity when we feel it or is it always that way? Is it our perception that creates our experiences or do they happen anyway but we just fail to notice? Yet, diving deeply into philosophy doesn’t really help us make sense of the whizz-bang rush of ‘stuff’ we often find ourselves dealing with. Whilst it’s only human to try to make sense of why things are the way they are, there is a time and a place to take a deep breath and step more consciously into the here and now. It’s only when we do this that we become aware of moments of quiet magical majesty and suddenly the answers to the questions we seek no longer seem relevant as we’ve stopped asking the questions.

Of course, there is no clear-cut, easy route through life and we have to take it day by day, doing the best we can. We may want answers and clarity, but whenever we feel we have these, life has a habit of throwing up a curve-ball to remind us that we don’t. So, is battling on, trying to achieve this really the answer, or should we accept the moment in order to allow ourselves to breathe more deeply into the magic and majesty around and within us? Acceptance isn’t giving up, nor is it giving in, it’s a willingness to be fully awake, eyes wide open, and to love life anyway. Life has up’s and it has plenty of down’s, but they’re constants, we cannot eradicate them, so maybe the key to happiness comes not from trying to control the currents or seek out all the answers, but to accept there’s bliss to be found in the uncertainty and from the not knowing. After all, if we knew everything, we’d have nowhere to evolve to and there really wouldn’t be any fun in being know-it-all’s...

With love,

Sarah-Jane

Aries

As an air of restlessness continues to create whispers deep within your heart and soul, there is a growing sense of awareness of a changing tide on the near horizon. Whilst you have not actively or consciously been seeking a specific change in the currents of your life, intuitively you have been expecting it as those whispers have been growing louder and more audible over recent weeks and months. June looks set to be a month of creative reflection and deep listening as you allow those whispers to take shape and form, breathing life into them as they take on your fiery effervescence and sparkling courage. Of course, listening to your deeper self is often the easiest part, as acting on those whispers and thoughts can be much harder as they involve looking at both yourself and your life in a completely different way.

You have never been one for turning away from a challenge, and this has seen you achieve a great deal in your life. However, your determination sometimes strays into the realms of stubbornness and you can find yourself pushing on even when intuitively you know it would be better to walk around or away. It’s never easy to know what to do in any given situation: push, resist, walk away or find another path as, on the surface, there are rarely any clear-cut answers. Yet, when you look beyond expectations, drive and beliefs, the answer is usually quite obvious: you just have to open up your eyes and be willing to see the truth. This is a time to trust your phenomenal intuition in order to step into the next chapter of your life with a sense of intuitive know-how to navigate the ebbs and flows with confidence, courage and intuitive wisdom…

Taurus

June looks set to be a month of continued stillness reaching out far and wide into every corner and crevice of your being. On the surface, it may be hard to sense the stillness as your life feels a little chaotic and tumultuous, but, if you pause, even briefly, you will sense the stillness rising up from deep within you. Stillness isn’t necessarily silence, nor is it quietness or tranquillity, the essence of stillness is more a state of being where you feel centred and in equilibrium even in the midst of the busy-ness of your everyday life. You may wonder how on earth such a state can be achieved, particularly given your current circumstances, but there is little to do here other than opening up your consciousness to the concept and allowing it to breathe and flourish. At your core, you are a courageous, steadfast and unfaltering soul, even in the face of adversity, you stand strong and resolute; little rocks you off centre when you connect to your inner power and allow the essence of stillness to flow freely.

Of course, this is somewhat easier said than done, as there are times when life feels like an uphill struggle and you feel overwhelmed and overawed, but, once again, when you take a deep breath, the stillness is always with you, offering a steady hand of support and inspiring you to believe in yourself and your gifts. Life, by its very nature, is inherently unknowable, and whilst this frequently frustrates you, you know it’s a certainty. When you re-centre, you let go of this frustration and allow the ebb and flow of the currents to move freely through your life allowing you to re-connect to your strength and inner power, inspiring you to glow from the inside, out…

Gemini

Change; perhaps the only true constant in life. Like the shifting sands along the beach, nothing ever stays the same, no matter how much you want it to. Of course, intuitively you know this, but you still find it hard to accept the apparent powerlessness of your existence. There is a sense that you sometimes allow this powerlessness to pervade into many aspects of your life as you try to seek out answers to the many questions you have in life; you are not content to sit and watch the world go by, you want to dive in and ascertain exactly why things are the way they are. You allow the concept of powerlessness to disempower you rather than shifting your perspective towards the inevitable ebb and flow of life, and thriving as a result. Yet, why? Do you want to understand so you can let go more or do you want to understand so you can try to get the better of change and thwart the process?

This is no judgement on you, after all, change isn’t always a bed of roses and you’ve seen your fair share of endings. Yet, intuitively you know you can no more stop the process of change than you can stop the day from turning into the night, so why try? Well, your grit and determination do not stem from foolhardiness but from a desire to create the best possible life and to cultivate a truer, and more genuine, sense of happiness. You like to understand why things are the way they are in order to make life better and this desire looks set to inspire you to transform your life as you begin to see the true gift that change brings you and, by letting go, opening up to the bigger picture of your life…

Cancer

As you continue to expand your perspective and allow your focus to step beyond the four walls of your everyday life, there is a growing sense of creative expansion reaching deeply into your heart and soul. Looking beyond the ordinary is inspiring you to tap into the sparkling and effervescent creative force within as you begin to contemplate what you truly want in life. You have been ticking along, going with the flow for quite some time now and your soul is restless, seeking more meaning and challenge. Challenge may seem like an off choice of word, after all, no one wants a challenge do they? Well, yes. A challenge is a way to push yourself beyond your comfort zone and to inspire you to think outside of the box in order to tap into your gifts and skills. Unless you try to push yourself how can you know just how much you are capable of?

Whilst there is much to be said for maintaining routine and ‘keeping on keeping on’, you feel stuck in your trustworthy pair of familiar, somewhat tatty, old comfortable slippers. They still keep your feet warm but they’re threadbare and worn, and your determination to keep wearing them now seems to take more effort than the challenge of either replacing them or going barefoot. Of course, your sensible side feels barefoot is neither practical nor safe, but intuitively you want nothing more than a carefree barefooted dance in the long grass of the hills and valleys of life all around you; you want to experience the freedom of less restraint and the joy of something new. These hills and valleys may not be part of your everyday life but they could be; the question is, do you want them to be? So, comfortable slippers or a carefree dance, the decision is yours…

Leo

What’s more important: loving life or living it? Living life is something we all do by a process of default although many err on the side of caution and try to resist living life until something better comes along. Loving life is perhaps more complicated as it involves a conscious choice or decision to embrace life with an open heart and an open mind, choosing to dive right in and seize the day. There is a very different dynamic to the two and although your heart and soul longs to love life there is a sense that you feel as though you are too busy ‘turning the wheel’ and stuck in a cycle of living life. It can be hard to know how to break this cycle, after all, you are working hard and keeping the wheels on the bus of your life turning around. However, there is a distinct lack of colour and vibrancy with such a strategy as it leaves little room for your passion and creativity to flow freely.

Almost every level of your being longs to let go in order to live a more enriching life yet, it’s hard for you to throw caution to the wind as you risk stepping into unknown territory but it’s important to remember that this is your life and you have a choice to either live it in ways that maintain stability (but perhaps lose spontaneity), or to embrace the moment and see where it takes you. Of course, life is rarely as straightforward as this as there are always many different factors, people and situations to take into account, yet your soul is calling out for you to reach towards your dreams so, do you ignore this or do you use your ingenuity and initiative to embrace a brand-new way of living and being?

Virgo

June looks set to be a month for grabbing hold of your dreams, shaking them about a bit, blowing away the cobwebs and having a good re-think as to what you truly want from life. So, not much time to be resting on your laurels! Although maybe resting on your laurels is exactly what you need to be doing in order to re-evaluate and re-define the shape and story of your life. Sometimes there is more action in being rather than doing. Sometimes doing less actually enables you, in the long run, to do more. This may sound slightly strange and counter-intuitive, but instinctively you know how much more you achieve when you’re thinking clearly and you have a stronger sense of equilibrium in your life, and this doesn’t necessarily come from doing more, it often simply evolves as a result of clearing your head and re-focusing.

Chaos can be immensely disturbing to you as it can pick you up and carry you off into the swirling winds of the tornado of life as you lose sight of your goals and sense of self. Of course, you cannot stop the swirling winds but, when you take a deep breath and reconnect to your inner stillness, you are no longer buffeted about, but more able to stand firm. You also have the choice to willingly let go and ride the waves, and this feels so much more empowering than being tossed about in the swirling winds! In a way, much of this is about re-establishing a stronger sense of self and a clearer perspective as the less overwhelmed you feel, the abler you are to focus on what you truly, unequivocally want from life. Being clear on such matters isn’t always easy but this is a perfect time for you to try…

Libra

The concept of stillness and tranquillity looks set to continue to take centre stage throughout June as you are nearing a crossroads of a significant shift in your life. Although your mind twists and turns like a maelstrom on caffeine pills, you often feel like you ought to have more stillness within as this is what you believe everyone aspires to achieve, after all, isn’t that the pathway to happiness and joy? In some ways you are right, as inner stillness is important, yet if such a state pulls you away from your natural state of being, then is it really the right thing for you? Whenever an ‘ought’ pops into the equation it’s important to re-evaluate your motivations as ‘oughts’ are often a sign that you are trying to be or do something you’re not. Maybe it’s possible to find stillness within that maelstrom and it’s only your ongoing resistance to being the maelstrom that creates the discord? Maybe if you accept your true essence, love it and embrace it, then you can learn how to thrive in the twists and turns?

Being you is fabulous; you are a creative, passionate, philosophical and convivial soul, and you often forget all of this as you aspire to push yourself in order to do more, be more and achieve more. Why not be you and be happy being you? Whilst the concept of stillness and tranquillity take centre stage, they do so in order for you to realise what you are not. This isn’t a waste of time as, in many ways, finding out what doesn’t work for you is just as important as knowing what does work, as it’s a way to distill the essence of you into something clearer and brighter. So, take a deep breath, dive into your beautiful maelstrom and let your true essence fly free…

Scorpio

Sometimes finding exactly the right words is incredibly hard; it can be so difficult to express the essence of a situation or experience into language as the words bring shape and form, and very often, there is no shape or form to the situations you find yourself in. There’s a blurred, wishy-washy line between clarity and uncertainty, but the nebulous nature of being you can mean clarity and certainty are just too concrete for you as they bind you to the moment rather than allowing you to be the fluid and free spirit you truly are. So, trying to describe the place in which you find yourself can be constricting rather than liberating as you become tied to the words rather than riding the ebb and flow. Yet, without description, it can be hard to make sense of your life as there’s no reference point or anything to grab hold of.

However, the more definition you seek out, the more lost you become as you shift out of sorts and feel trapped in the structure of words and sentences. You know only too well that your life is free flowing, indefinable and unformulated as your essence doesn’t know boundaries; you do not confirm yourself to the four walls of everyday life as your consciousness seeks out the bigger picture and beyond. This may not make for an easy life but it makes for a richer one as you allow the essence of you to move beyond words and into a space of openness and curiosity to live your life according to how you feel rather than trying to make sense of everything all of the time. There is always a place for words, but when you step beyond these you liberate yourself from the shackles of trying to fit your unique shaped peg into this square shaped hole called life…

Sagittarius

As your inner infrastructure continues to undergo a major shake-up and reshuffle, there is a growing sense of optimism rising up from deep within your being. It’s hard to explain where this optimism is coming from and even harder to know where it’s heading, as there is a nebulousness about it, but, even though it’s vague and ill-defined, you can’t help but feel excited by the prospect as it’s stirring up a new wave of inspiration in connection to living the life you were born to live. As your inner workings unwind and re-shape, you may feel a deep sense of discombobulation as many areas of your life no longer make much sense to you; it’s as though you’ve been living on auto-pilot for years and you’ve suddenly taken back the controls and have to familiarise yourself with how that feels. As a result, the life you’ve been living is likely to feel slightly out of kilter with the life you’ve thought you’ve been living.

So, as well as liberation you are also facing the reality of ‘flying solo’ and being at the helm of the great big ship of your life. In many ways, this excites you, but it terrifies you at the same time because it means having to make some of those big decisions you’ve been avoiding for so long. It’s not that you hate making decisions, it’s more a case that you’ve not been quite sure how best to proceed with your life, so you have been hovering in indecision, hoping for a lightbulb moment to appear in order to guide you forward. However, as you’re not quite sure what you’re looking for, you’re not quite sure what the lightbulb moment is meant to look like. As your inner reshuffle continues, trust your intuition to guide you and let it lead the way…

Capricorn

Sometimes life is filled with questions to be asked and sometimes life is filled with answers without questions. If you’re lucky, the answers come flooding in without too much of a delay, but there are times, when, no matter how hard you look, you simply cannot find an answer. In fact, the harder you look, the less clarity you find. Then there are the times when the harder you look you forget the question you asked in the first place and end up going on a kind of wild goose chase, chasing your tail without really knowing why. Of course, you can step back and see the funny side to this but not when you’re stuck in the middle of it! Despite your deeply philosophical nature, there is a sense of frustration emanating from you at the current time as you have been on a roll when it comes to answering some of those big life questions but, instead of bringing you clarity, you’ve ended up with more questions to ask.

Life is rarely as straightforward or as black and white as you would like, and, whilst you know this, you still find yourself feeling frustrated because you feel indignant that it can be such hard work. So, whilst you accept you can’t have all the answers, you feel frustrated all the same as you feel you ought to be able to have all the answers. It is a bit contrary and extremely confusing but this is a sign of you kicking out against the treadmill, rabbit run flow of life: you simply cannot just accept what you’re told as you need to find out for yourself. As a result, you are beginning to re-establish a stronger sense of self once again as you find your feet, explore your truth and open up to the concept of thriving in a world without answers…

Aquarius

♒

As your creative sparkle continues to sizzle and buzz, there is a sense you are beginning to look at yourself and your life from a different perspective. Instead of seeing yourself in the everyday colours of your everyday world, you are beginning to notice new colours, textures and shapes appearing as you step beyond the ordinary into your more usual space of the extraordinary. Although you have found yourself in the black and white, monochrome world of the pedestrian, this has been necessary to allow you to keep on keeping on with your life. Yet, all the while, you have been longing to break free and explore the technicoloured vibrancy of your true essence. There is some irony in this as you have been seeing your life in a very black and white way: monochromes or technicolour. Why can’t you have both? Are they mutually exclusive or are they only that way because you believe them to be? The everyday pedestrian world of keeping on keeping on is a necessary part of life but does it really have to be devoid of the colour and vibrancy tucked away in your heart and soul?

Surely if you allow this sparkle to shine and flow freely, you can find ways to turn your everyday into something magical and special? This isn’t to say you will suddenly no longer have any ‘keeping on’ to do or live in a fairy-tale utopian world of specialness, but you will have the opportunity to live more consciously in the present moment knowing you have allowed your uniqueness and sparkle to light up your world from the inside, out. You may then begin to see that your everyday is only monochrome because that’s the filter you use. So, let the sparkle out and allow it to light up your life…

Pisces

The theme of diving into the depths of your being continues throughout June as you begin to discover the joy of being a fluid and free. Living without definition or shape is a blessing but it’s not for everyone and even you struggle with it at times because you feel like you ought to be like everyone else, but you’re not. You are not a sheep, you do not live your life trying to fit into a box. You are beyond the concept of sheep and boxes as your fluidity allows your consciousness to take you beyond clear-cut definitions: you are a bit like Schrödinger’s Cat, both here and not here at the same time. In other words, you are present as much as you choose to be. You do not aspire to live your life by the societal archetypes and constructs most adhere to even though it makes for an easier life.

By beginning to accept your fluidity, you are letting go of the resistance and opening up to living way and beyond your wildest imagination which is both exhilarating and a little terrifying as you do find a sense of safety by hiding away in the everyday world as it means you don’t have to let go of the safe and familiar. Yet, you are not content in the everyday world, so you have a choice: own your true essence or put up with what you have. This may sound a little harsh, but there’s no point in wandering around the edges of the subject. You are an amazing, vibrant, creative and passionate soul; you are free-flowing, unique and beyond comprehension. You can celebrate this and embrace it or you can choose to be a sheep and baa like everyone else. In many ways, there is no do here, just a willingness to either be or not be…

Found in , Witches of the Craft.com

Reposted by, PHYNXRIZNG