#axis amplifier

[itscnc]

Replacement Amplifiers for Fadal CNC machines

Replacement Amplifiers for Fadal CNC machines are designed to enhance machine performance by delivering precise signal amplification. These amplifiers feature advanced technology for optimal control, ensuring smooth motor operations. With easy installation and fault detection, they are compatible with various Fadal models, providing reliable support for your CNC machinery's precision and efficiency in demanding industrial applications.

[goldfades]

WHO DID THIS TO YOU?──RAFE CAMERON

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine it's crucial that we stand in solidarity with those who need our support. right now, the people of palestine are facing unimaginable hardship, and it's up to all of us to do what we can to help. whether it's raising awareness, donating to relief organizations, or supporting calls for justice and peace, every action counts. we can amplify their voices, shed light on their struggles, and work towards a future where every individual can live with dignity and freedom. your support can make a difference! FREE PALESTINE!

for this request, for my lovely jo! @wanderlusturous

─ summary | you and rafe are consumed by an obsessive love, where their madness is fueled by each other. you find exhilaration in pushing boundaries, testing each other’s limits, and the deeper you fall into your shared insanity, the tighter your bond becomes. when rafe finds you crying in your bedroom one day, he loses his shit and is thrown into a silent rage, seeking revenge. and you don't mind, not one bit.

─ pairing | rafe cameron x fem!reader

─ warnings | oh my god, where do i even begin?? obsessive rafe, like insane but reader reciprocates it. a few kisses but mostly just insane stuff. mention of drugging (not to reader), hacking (?), idk what else but this is lowkey insane...

─ ev's notes | im gonna be honest, i don't know if i like this... but lmk if yall enjoyed it. it's a little too dark-themed for me and i got into it until i reread it and realized that it was lowkey insane but hey!!! whatever!!! anyway, pls lmk if this was too dark.. or if you enjoyed it. also, sorry to any becca's out there, it was just the first name that popped up. any feedback is always very appreciated!

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

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The night is suffocating, thick with tension that mirrors the pulse racing in your veins. Every sound, every breath, seems amplified, as if the world knows what’s coming. You stand by the dock, your eyes on the dark water ahead, but your thoughts are elsewhere—on him.

Rafe.

You can already feel him, even when he’s not here. The way your skin hums when you think of him, the way your pulse skips in sync with his name. No one gets you like Rafe does. No one makes you feel like the world is spinning off its axis just by looking at you. He’s chaos, destruction wrapped in a pretty face, and you... you crave it.

The roar of an engine breaks through the night. You don’t turn, but a slow smile curls on your lips. You feel the heat of his presence before you even hear his footsteps.

“Couldn’t stay away, could you?” Rafe’s voice is a low drawl, but there’s something manic beneath it, something that sparks against the madness in you.

You turn your head slightly, just enough to catch his eyes. There’s that look again. That wild, possessive look that sets your blood on fire. He’s close now, so close you can feel the heat radiating off him, feel the tension in the air tighten like a noose around your neck.

“Neither could you,” you reply, your voice low, daring.

He grins, a sharp, dangerous thing. “You’re right. I can’t.”

His fingers brush your arm, just a ghost of a touch, but it’s enough to ignite something violent between you. This—this is what you live for. The thrill. The madness. The way Rafe looks at you like you’re the only thing keeping him sane, and maybe that’s what scares you the most.

Because you’re not sane.

Not anymore.

You can’t even remember why you broke up with him a few months ago, but all you know is that it got overwhelming. There was something suffocating about it—about him. The way he always knew where you were, who you were with, what you were thinking before you even said it. At first, it was intoxicating, the way he could read you like no one else ever could, like you were the only two people on earth and no one else mattered. But then… it was too much. His intensity felt like drowning in quicksand, slow but relentless. And for a moment, just a moment, you thought maybe you needed air.

But standing here now, with the salt stinging your nostrils and the wind howling like some kind of omen, you can’t remember why you ever thought you could leave him.

Because there he is—Rafe Cameron, walking toward you like the world is his and you’re his prize, eyes locked on you in a way that makes your chest tighten, your stomach coil in knots. He’s dangerous in all the ways that matter. Not just because he’s reckless and violent (though God knows he is), but because of how he makes you feel. Alive, in a way that hurts. Like the rush you get standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing one wrong step and it’s all over, but you can’t stop yourself from leaning forward, just to feel the thrill of almost falling.

He doesn’t stop walking until he’s so close you can smell the gasoline and smoke on his clothes, the wild energy pouring off him in waves. He looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters, like you’re the oxygen he’s been deprived of for too long, and suddenly it all makes sense again. The madness. The break-up. The inevitable pull back to him.

“Why’d you leave me?” His voice is low, rough like gravel. His eyes burn with something fierce, and you can feel it sinking into you, clawing its way under your skin. He’s not asking because he doesn’t know. He’s asking because he wants to hear you say it.

You stare at him, heart pounding, pulse thrumming in your ears like a warning. But instead of stepping back, you step forward, closing the small gap between you two. Your breath mingles with his, the night air thick with unsaid things, and you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something irreversible. Like if you take one more step, there’s no going back.

But isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? The danger. The thrill. The sick, twisted excitement of being so intertwined with him that you forget where he ends and you begin.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, even though that’s not the full truth. You do know. You left because you were scared. Scared of how much you wanted him, needed him, even when it hurt. Scared of the fact that the line between love and obsession blurred so fast with him that you couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

His jaw tightens, and his hands, those rough, calloused hands that have touched you in ways no one else ever has, reach out. He grips your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze, and for a moment, you swear you can see the wild, unhinged thing lurking just behind his eyes. It’s the same thing you see in yourself when you look in the mirror. The madness that ties you to him, binds you like a curse.

“You do know,” he says, voice dark and demanding. His thumb brushes your bottom lip, slow, like he’s testing how far he can push you before you break. “You just won’t say it.”

A shiver runs down your spine, but it’s not fear. It’s something else, something deeper. Something that feels like surrender and power all at once. You lean into his touch, letting his hand curl around the side of your face, the heat of him soaking into your skin like a drug.

“I couldn’t handle it,” you admit, the words thick and heavy in your throat. “You. Us. It was too much.”

Rafe’s lips curl into a smirk, but it’s not a kind one. It’s dark, possessive. “Too much? You know you liked it. You loved it.” His hand tightens slightly on your jaw, just enough for you to feel the edge of his control, like he’s reminding you who he is. What he is. “You loved me because of how fucked up we are. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

You swallow hard, heart thundering in your chest, because deep down, you know he’s right. You’ve never felt more alive than when you were with him, caught up in the madness of it all. The fights, the passion, the way you both pushed each other to the edge and then pulled each other back, only to do it all over again. It was twisted, dangerous, and wrong in every way, but that’s what made it irresistible.

“I did,” you confess, and it’s like a weight lifts off your chest, even as you feel yourself falling back into him, back into the chaos. “I do.”

The smirk fades, replaced by something darker, hungrier. His eyes search yours, looking for any sign of hesitation, any crack in your resolve. But there’s nothing. You’re not the same person who left him. Maybe you never really left at all.

Rafe’s hand slides from your chin to the back of your neck, pulling you closer until his lips hover just inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. “That’s what I thought,” he murmurs, and before you can respond, his mouth crashes into yours, hard and demanding.

It’s not gentle. It’s never been gentle with Rafe. His kiss is all teeth and tongue, like he’s trying to devour you, claim you all over again. And you let him, because deep down, you crave it just as much as he does. The fire, the chaos, the way he makes you feel like you’re spinning out of control but somehow exactly where you’re supposed to be.

When he pulls back, you’re both breathing hard, your lips swollen, your pulse racing like you’ve just run a marathon. His hands grip your waist now, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel the heat of his body searing into yours.

“Tell me,” he says, voice low and dangerous, his eyes boring into yours. “Tell me you’re mine.”

Your heart hammers in your chest, but you don’t hesitate. “I’m yours.” And you are, completely, utterly, unashamedly his.

And just like that, you’re back where you started.

───MONTHS LATER . . .

“God fucking damn it, if you don't tell me right now, I'm gonna lose my shit!” Rafe shouts, his voice cracking like thunder in the small living room as he throws the beer bottle against the wall.

Glass shatters everywhere, scattering across the floor, but you don’t even flinch. You’ve seen this before. Hell, you’ve lived it. The rage, the temper, the chaos—it's like a script you’ve both memorized by heart.

You lean back against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching him like you would a caged animal—wild and unpredictable. He’s pacing now, his movements sharp and erratic, the muscles in his jaw clenched so tightly you wonder if they might snap. His eyes are wild, blue like ice but burning with something untamable, something dangerous. He’s teetering on the edge, that fine line between fury and desperation, and you know it won’t take much to push him over.

But you don’t care. Not right now.

“Rafe, calm the fuck down,” you say, your voice steady, almost bored. You know that’ll get to him. It always does. Nothing makes him crazier than when you don’t give him the reaction he’s fishing for.

His head snaps in your direction, eyes narrowing as he stalks toward you like a predator honing in on prey. He stops just inches away, towering over you, his chest heaving, breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts. He’s so close now that you can smell the alcohol on his breath, feel the heat radiating off his skin. But you don’t move. You stand your ground, looking up at him with a calm that borders on defiance.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” he spits, voice laced with venom. His hands are balled into fists at his sides, knuckles white. “I’m sick of your bullshit! You think you can just stand there like you’re better than me, like you’re not a part of this, but guess what, baby? You are. You always have been.”

You tilt your head slightly, eyes narrowing as a slow smile creeps across your lips. “You’re being dramatic, Rafe,” you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “What, you gonna break something else? Or are you actually gonna say what’s bothering you for once?”

That does it.

He slams his hands down on the counter behind you, trapping you between his arms, his face just inches from yours. His eyes blaze with fury, but beneath it, you see something else—something raw, something that makes your stomach twist in knots.

“Don’t play games with me,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “I know what you’re doing. You think you can just push me around, mess with my head, and I’ll keep coming back like a fucking dog, huh?”

You meet his gaze, unblinking, heart racing in your chest but refusing to show it. You can feel the tension crackling between you like electricity, the air thick with it, suffocating. This is what it always comes down to with Rafe—this toxic push and pull, this need to break each other just to see what’s left after the pieces fall apart.

“You think I’m the one messing with your head?” you say, your voice low, challenging. “Maybe you should take a look in the mirror, Rafe. You’re not exactly innocent in this, are you?”

His jaw clenches, and for a moment, you think he’s going to explode. But instead, he just stares at you, eyes flickering with something dark, something primal. Then, slowly, he leans in closer, his breath hot against your skin.

“Innocent?” he whispers, his lips brushing your ear. “Baby, I’ve never claimed to be innocent. You knew exactly who I was when you got into this.”

You don’t flinch. You don’t pull back. Instead, you tilt your head slightly, your lips grazing the corner of his jaw as you whisper back, “Yeah, and that’s why I’m not scared of you.”

His breath hitches, just for a second, and you feel a surge of satisfaction. You’ve always known how to push his buttons, how to throw him off balance, even when he’s at his most dangerous. It’s a game you’ve played a thousand times before, and you both know how it ends—chaotic, messy, with both of you circling back to the same place.

But this time feels different.

There’s something darker in the way he’s looking at you, something that feels more like possession than anger. Like he’s not just mad because you’re fighting—he’s mad because he can’t stand the thought of you slipping away. Because he knows, deep down, that no matter how hard you push him, he’ll always want you. Need you.

“You don’t get to walk away from me,” Rafe says, his voice low, deadly. “Not this time.”

You feel his grip tighten on the counter behind you, his body pressing against yours as if he’s trying to fuse the two of you together, like if he holds on tight enough, you won’t be able to escape. But he doesn’t know, doesn’t understand that you’re already too far gone. That the very thing he’s holding on to is slipping through his fingers, and there’s nothing either of you can do about it.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” you say softly, a cold smile on your lips. “I can walk away whenever I want. I just choose not to.”

And with that, you duck under his arm, slipping out from between him and the counter. His eyes follow you, wide with disbelief, rage bubbling just beneath the surface. You know he’s about to lose it, to completely unravel. But you don’t turn back. Not yet.

Because this time, you want him to come after you.

And he always does.

Rafe’s eyes darken as you slip past him, and for a moment, the room goes deadly silent. The tension is thick, heavy like a storm cloud waiting to burst. You know exactly what’s coming, and it sends a thrill down your spine. You can almost feel it—the moment he snaps, the second his control shatters. It’s a twisted game, one you’ve played too many times before, and every time, you push him a little harder, a little further, just to see how far he’ll go for you.

You take slow, deliberate steps toward the door, your back turned to him, feeling the heat of his gaze sear into you. You don’t need to look back to know he’s watching, every muscle in his body tensed like a predator stalking its prey. The air feels electric, charged with a violence that’s always been just beneath the surface between you two.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” His voice cuts through the silence like a knife, sharp and biting. You stop, but you don’t turn around. Not yet.

“Does it matter?” you ask, voice calm, almost teasing. “I thought I could walk away whenever I wanted, remember?”

The silence that follows is deafening. You know you’ve hit a nerve. He hates when you challenge him, hates when you act like you have the upper hand. But that’s what makes it so addictive—pushing him to his limit, watching him unravel in front of you, knowing that no matter how hard he fights it, he’ll always come back to you.

Because he can’t help it. Neither of you can.

Suddenly, you hear his footsteps behind you, fast and heavy, and before you can react, his hand grips your arm, yanking you back toward him with a force that nearly knocks the breath out of you. He spins you around, his face inches from yours, eyes blazing with fury.

“You’re not fucking going anywhere,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. His grip tightens on your arm, fingers digging into your skin, but the pain only makes your pulse quicken, your breath hitch in your throat. There’s something about the way he looks at you—like he’s on the verge of losing control, like he’s barely holding himself together—that sends a thrill through you.

“Let go of me, Rafe,” you say, your voice daring him, even though you know you don’t really want him to.

He doesn’t. Instead, he pulls you closer, his other hand gripping the back of your neck, forcing you to look up at him. His chest is heaving, his eyes wild, but there’s something else there, too—something desperate, like he’s terrified of losing you, like he’s clinging to you with everything he has left.

“You think you can just walk away?” he snarls, his breath hot against your face. “After everything? After all the shit we’ve been through? You really think I’m just gonna let you go?”

You meet his gaze, unblinking, your heart racing, but there’s no fear. Not with him. There never is. Instead, you feel the pull again—the twisted, sick need to see how far you can push him, how deep his obsession goes.

“I think you don’t have a choice,” you say, your voice steady, even though your pulse is hammering in your ears.

His grip tightens, his jaw clenched so hard you can see the muscles twitching beneath his skin. For a second, you think he’s going to snap—really snap—but then, just as quickly, something shifts in his expression. The anger doesn’t fade, but it’s joined by something darker, something raw and consuming.

“You’re wrong,” he whispers, his voice barely audible but laced with danger. “You don’t get to decide when this ends. I do.”

Before you can react, his lips crash against yours, rough and demanding, as if he’s trying to prove a point. It’s not a kiss; it’s a claim, a reminder that you belong to him, whether you want to admit it or not. His hands tighten on you, pulling you impossibly closer, and you can feel the tension in his body, the barely restrained violence simmering just beneath the surface.

But instead of pulling away, you kiss him back with just as much fire, matching his intensity. It’s always been like this between you two—this chaotic, messy whirlwind of emotion that neither of you can control. You push, he pulls, and somewhere in the middle of it all, you find something that feels like love, even though you both know it’s something darker, something more dangerous.

When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard, your lips swollen and bruised. His hand stays on the back of your neck, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that’s both possessive and tender, like he’s reminding himself that you’re still here, still his.

“You’re mine,” he says, his voice rough, eyes blazing as he stares down at you. “You’ve always been mine.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. There’s a part of you that wants to fight it, to push him away and run as far as you can. But there’s a bigger part of you, a darker part, that knows he’s right.

You’re his. You always have been.

“Yeah,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper. “I’m yours.”

The words hang in the air between you, thick and heavy, and for a moment, everything else falls away. The anger, the tension, the broken glass on the floor—it’s all background noise now. All that matters is the two of you, standing here in this twisted, fucked-up mess of a relationship, knowing that no matter how many times you try to break free, you’ll always end up right back here.

With him.

Rafe’s grip on you softens, just slightly, and for the first time in what feels like hours, the intensity in his eyes eases. But it’s still there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the next time one of you decides to test the limits again. Because there will be a next time. There always is.

“You’re not leaving me again,” he says, his voice softer now, but no less serious. “Not ever.”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Because deep down, you know that no matter how much you might want to, no matter how many times you tell yourself you can walk away, you won’t.

You never could.

And Rafe knows it, too.

───

You don’t usually cry. Not ever. Tears are something you’ve learned to bury deep down, hidden under layers of indifference and biting sarcasm. But tonight, they come, hot and angry, streaming down your face as you sit curled up on the edge of the bed, hands trembling in your lap. The weight of the evening presses down on you, your mind reeling from everything that happened.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not tonight.

Your phone buzzes again on the nightstand, but you ignore it. You can’t deal with it right now. You don’t want to see the messages or hear the apologies. You don’t want to relive what just went down.

You wipe at your face roughly, trying to pull yourself together, but it’s no use. The shaky breath you let out only betrays you further, and you feel the tears well up again. You bite your lip to keep from making a sound, not wanting him to hear you.

But, of course, Rafe hears everything.

The door swings open, and Rafe steps inside, his broad frame filling the doorway. He looks at you, really looks at you, and in an instant, his expression darkens. His blue eyes narrow as they sweep over you, taking in the tear-streaked face, the hunched shoulders, the way your body is wound tight like a coiled spring, ready to snap. His jaw tightens, and you can practically feel the shift in the air around him.

“What happened?” His voice is low, dangerous, barely restrained. It’s not a question—it’s a demand.

You shake your head, trying to brush it off. “It’s nothing, Rafe. Just forget it.”

But you know better than to think he’ll let it go. The second you met him, you realized Rafe Cameron isn’t the kind of guy who “forgets” anything.

He moves closer, the tension in his body palpable. He’s not pacing like he usually does when he’s angry. This is different. Controlled. Focused. Like he’s honing in on the source of your pain, ready to eliminate it. He crouches down in front of you, one hand gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him. His touch is firm, possessive, but not rough—not yet.

“Tell me what happened,” he says again, his eyes boring into yours. “Who did this to you?”

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should even bring it up. You know how Rafe gets—how he reacts when someone hurts you. And this time, it wasn’t just anyone. It was someone close. Someone you thought was your friend.

“It’s—” You start, but your voice cracks, and you quickly bite down, trying to steady yourself. “It was…Becca.”

“Becca?” The name drops like a lead weight between you two, and you can see the recognition flare in his eyes. Becca, your friend for years, the one person outside of him you’ve always trusted. The one person he’s always been wary of.

Rafe’s grip tightens slightly, his thumb brushing over your jaw in a way that makes your pulse race. His voice drops to a low, dangerous whisper. “What did she do?”

You hesitate, but the words spill out before you can stop them. “She—she said some things. At the party tonight. She called me out in front of everyone, said I was using you, that I only stuck around for the money, the attention. She tried to turn everyone against me, Rafe. She made me look… weak.”

His face hardens instantly, and for a split second, you see something flash in his eyes—something dark and lethal. The kind of rage that makes your breath catch in your throat, even though you know it’s not directed at you.

“She said what?” His voice is so low now, it’s almost a growl.

You nod, swallowing hard, feeling the burn of humiliation all over again. “I don’t know why she did it. I thought she was my friend.”

Rafe lets out a slow breath, and the air around him feels like it’s vibrating with the intensity of his anger. He stands up abruptly, pacing the room, running a hand through his hair as if trying to keep himself from completely losing it. But you know it’s too late for that.

“I’ll fucking kill her,” he mutters under his breath, but you hear every word. “I’ll ruin her life.”

“Rafe—” You start to protest, but he cuts you off with a sharp look.

“No. No one talks to you like that. Not her, not anyone.” His voice is clipped, sharp, like he’s barely holding back the full force of what he’s feeling. “You don’t deserve this shit. Not from her, not from anyone.”

His protectiveness borders on obsession, but you can’t help but feel a strange comfort in it. It’s twisted, but there’s something about the way Rafe reacts to these things—like the whole world can burn as long as you’re safe—that makes you feel… seen. Important.

“I’m going to fix this,” he says, more to himself than to you, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “She thinks she can talk shit about you? In front of everyone? Humiliate you? Nah. She’s going to regret it. I’ll make sure of that.”

“Rafe,” you say softly, trying to reach for him, but he’s too far gone. You can see it in the way his eyes have glazed over, already plotting, already deciding exactly how he’s going to destroy Becca.

And part of you wants to stop him. Part of you knows that this isn’t the answer, that maybe you should handle it differently, like a normal person would.

But you’re not normal. Not anymore.

“I’m serious,” he says, turning to face you again, his expression deadly serious. “No one fucks with you. Ever.”

His intensity washes over you, and for a second, you feel like you can’t breathe. But at the same time, it fills you with a sense of power, knowing that he’s willing to go to these lengths for you. That he’ll protect you at all costs, no matter how destructive it gets.

You stand up slowly, crossing the room until you’re in front of him, your hand resting on his chest. “Just… don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

Rafe’s eyes flicker down to you, and for a brief moment, you see a softness there, a flicker of the boy beneath all the rage and chaos. “I won’t. But I’m not letting this go.”

You nod, knowing there’s no point in arguing with him. This is who he is—who you both are. Twisted, obsessive, reckless. But it works. Somehow, it works. And deep down, you don’t really want him to let it go.

A few months later, and somehow everything goes to shit for Becca.

It starts small—things that could almost pass as bad luck. First, her new car gets keyed, deep scratches across the side that no amount of buffing can fix. Then her social media accounts get hacked, posts disappearing, weird comments being left on other people’s pages, like someone is deliberately screwing with her life piece by piece. She brushes it off at first, because Becca’s tough. She’s the type of girl who bounces back quickly, who doesn’t let things get under her skin.

But then things escalate. Quickly.

She gets benched during a big volleyball game when her coach suddenly pulls her aside and questions her attitude. The team captain claims Becca’s been talking shit about the coach behind her back, stirring up drama with teammates. The problem is, Becca never said any of it. But now, she’s got a reputation, and people are starting to look at her differently.

Still, she fights through it, determined not to let it get to her. Becca’s always had her eye on the prize: her full ride to UC Berkeley, where she’s set to play volleyball at the college level. That’s her future. Her escape. Nothing can touch that.

Until it does.

The call comes one morning, out of nowhere. Becca’s shaking as she listens to the voice on the other end of the line, her heart plummeting as her coach tells her the news.

“We’ve received the results of your recent drug test, Becca,” the coach says, his voice stern but somehow apologetic. “I’m sorry, but you’ve tested positive for a banned substance.”

Becca’s head spins, her mouth going dry. “That’s impossible,” she blurts out, panic rising in her chest. “I don’t do drugs. I don’t—”

“I know this is hard to hear,” the coach cuts her off, his voice firm. “But the results are what they are. This disqualifies you from the scholarship and the team. UC Berkeley has revoked your offer.”

The words hit her like a sledgehammer. She feels the ground tilt beneath her, everything she’s worked for slipping through her fingers in an instant. She argues, pleads, tries to explain, but the decision is final. There’s nothing she can do.

And that’s when she starts to see it, to feel the weight of something much bigger pressing down on her. This isn’t just bad luck. It’s not a coincidence that her life is unraveling at the seams. No, this feels orchestrated, like someone’s been pulling the strings behind the scenes, watching her fall apart.

That someone is Rafe Cameron.

Rafe can be physical—he wouldn’t hesitate to swing on anyone he deems a threat. But Rafe isn’t a dumbass. He knows that not everything should be dealt with by violence. Some things are better handled with precision, with patience, with slow, deliberate destruction. He knew that punching Becca in the face wouldn’t satisfy him, wouldn’t give him the kind of control he wanted over the situation.

So instead, he used his connections, his money, his influence, all of the tools at his disposal to dismantle her life bit by bit. A hacked account here, a few whispers to the right people there. He didn’t need to lay a finger on her to destroy her. He just needed to plant the seeds of doubt, to set off a chain reaction, and then watch it all come crumbling down.

The drug test? Easy. A little slip of something into her drink at a party when she wasn’t paying attention, followed by a tip-off to the testing agency. The rumors about her trash-talking her coach? Carefully spread by a few well-placed texts to her teammates, pretending to be her. Her social media? That was just for fun, a way to throw her off balance and make her feel like her world was spiraling.

And it worked.

You know all of this, of course. Rafe never bothers to hide things from you. In fact, he’s proud of it, proud of the way he’s dismantled Becca’s life without so much as breaking a sweat. He tells you about it one night while you’re lying together, his arm draped lazily over your waist as he whispers in your ear.

“She thought she could fuck with you,” he murmurs, his voice dark, satisfied. “But now she knows. No one touches what’s mine.”

You should feel guilty. You should feel something for Becca, after all those years of friendship, of thinking she had your back. But all you can feel is a sick sense of satisfaction, like the universe has finally corrected itself. Becca messed with the wrong person, and now she’s paying the price. And as twisted as it is, you can’t help but feel a little thrill at how far Rafe was willing to go for you, how meticulously he destroyed her without you even asking him to.

“You really did all that?” you ask, your voice low, a smirk tugging at your lips.

Rafe shifts beside you, leaning in closer, his breath warm against your neck. “I told you, baby. No one fucks with you and gets away with it.”

You turn your head to meet his gaze, and there’s something dangerous in the way he looks at you, something possessive and wild. It should scare you, but it doesn’t. Not anymore.

Because the truth is, you like it. You like how far he’s willing to go for you, how far he’s willing to take it. There’s something intoxicating about the way he loves you—twisted, obsessive, and all-consuming. It’s not healthy, not normal, but it’s yours. And that’s enough.

You press your lips to his, kissing him fiercely, feeling the heat between you two ignite once again. Rafe kisses you back just as hard, his hands gripping you tightly, like he’s reminding you that you’re his and no one else’s.

As you pull back, your breath ragged, you glance at him, your voice barely above a whisper.

“She won’t come near me again.”

“No,” Rafe says, his eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction. “She won’t.”

And in that moment, you both know it’s true. Becca’s done.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[seafoamreadings]

week of november 10th, 2024

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: significant nodal transits this week mean all you have to do is walk, and the path appears. the full moon this week also points to (likely positive?) developments around money and your deepest core values.

taurus: the full moon this week is the yearly full moon in your sign. it can be a highly emotional time and yet, the moon is so happy in your sign that it's hard for this to go badly for you. just make sure you're meeting all your needs as much as possible.

gemini: a full moon across your 6th/12th house axis this week pushes you to integrate the multiple parts of yourself that sometimes disagree with each other. sometimes as you go about the routines of daily life it's easy to forget that you even have some of these parts. quiet introspection, especially if you can actually have the moon in view as you do so, is likely to bring about fruitful results psychologically.

cancerians: while full moons may typically have you feeling moody and broody with lots of mood swings, this week's feature in taurus is likely fun and friendly. if you're up for socializing a bit it is a fantastic time to do so, and if not, at least send off a few texts to strengthen community bonds.

leo: if you've had any changes you'd like to make at home or to your more public-facing image, this can be a good time for it. just be cognizant of mercury and mars doing their impending retrograde things.

virgo: earth energy amplifies a bit with venus into capricorn plus a taurus full moon. this is good news for you, overall, especially if you're looking for fun or a new flirtation, or if you're trying to work out an academic plan or spiritual leveling up.

libra: while the vibes are not particularly libran, your ruling planet venus is quite busy all the same, and this is broadly beneficial to you, especially in your home life and/or if you want to reconcile with a family of origin or ancestry. meanwhile a merging of households or a sharing of resources or expansion of intimacy can also be a really good move now, being mindful of course about upcoming retrogrades and possible associated hiccups.

scorpio: creative pursuits or flirtations that seemed to fizzle out in the last few months (and similar endeavors) may pop back into existence this week. you get to choose what to actually follow through with, but if you've wanted a fun fling or artistic undertaking to come back and get a little more permanent, this is the time.

sagittarius: work you've done on your inner world, like shadow work or therapy or a dream journal, starts to pay off big time with this week's full moon, in such a way you can see benefits on the earthly plane. meanwhile a household problem may begin to resolve by the end of the week - rent issues, a roommate search, repairs, etc.

capricorn: venus moves into your sign to grace you with timeless elegance, attractiveness to money, and similar. if you're seeking a charming benefactor this may also come to you in the next few weeks.

aquarius: you can let this week's full moon act as a sort of bridge between your private and public life. of course, if you want to keep these compartmentalized you can, but if it helps you to live authentically to dissolve the boundaries or just make them a little less impermeable, this is a great time for it.

pisces: make new friends and build your close-knit community. it doesn't have to spontaneously appear over night or even in a week or a month. but it is built brick by brick. place a few tetris pieces about it this week.

watch the transit posts in real time to have the best guide through your week. want a little more? have a look at my patreon or ko-fi.

check out my etsy for a private reading or dm me to set up a reading through venmo, cashapp, or paypal.

[dark-corner-cunning]

The Virtues of Sacred Woods: Embracing the Magick of Trees

Note To Reader: As we find ourselves in the heart of summer, journeying along the southern road of the crossroads here in Appalachia, we embrace the virtue of earth and the magick of Old Mother Green Cap. This post is woven from the threads of traditional witchcraft, physical witchcraft, and my own path. As always, take what resonates and leave the rest. Feel free to make up or create your own correspondences and virtues as you see fit.

What is a virtue? In our witchy world, a virtue is a beneficial quality or power of something, a word whispered from the metaphysical lips of existence. It's the hidden essence, the subtle energy, the magick that pulses through the veins of the natural world. When we speak of virtues, we're invoking the spirit and energy that dwells within every tree, every branch, every tool crafted from nature's gifts.

Among the myriad stick-formed tools in the Traditional Craft of Cunning, two stand as pillars in our practice: the Wand and the Stang (or Staff). While their virtues are distinct, their roots intertwine deeply with the ancient woods from which they were born. Let us briefly explore these sacred tools, for within their grain lies the power to shape our craft and connect us to the hidden currents of the world.

-The Wand: Conduit of Power-

The wand, slender and elegant, is a faithful companion to the cunning practitioner. Its primary virtue lies in its ability to direct power and energy, much like a conductor's baton orchestrating the unseen forces around us. Wands are used to banish unwanted influences and spirits, sweep away negativity, and conjure helpful entities from the ether. When we cast a working circle, the wand traces the boundary, marking a sacred space or container where magick can unfold.

Each wand, depending on the wood it is crafted from, carries its own unique virtue. A wand of oak might offer a fiery virtue of strength, wisdom, power, protection, or aid to solar rites and magick… while one of willow could provide a watery virtue of emotional healing, strengthening love, divination, enchantment, enlightenment, or aid to rites and workings of the Moon. The wood whispers its secrets to us, guiding our hand and amplifying our intent. Thus, the wand becomes an extension of our will, a bridge between the mundane and the magickal.

My "Red Serpent" Wand: This wand is directly linked to the serpent energy of the land. It is made from Oak and has a Dragon Blood Stone, Snake rib, and Blood embedded into it. I use it as an extension of my own willpower and life force. I usually bury it under a Full moon to charge when "Sprowl" is at its peak.

-The Stang: Pillar of the Worlds-

The stang, often fashioned from a forked staff, holds a different yet equally potent virtue. It can stand as a representation of the Horned One, the dualities of nature, and the power that flows from earth to sky. In its form, we see the concept of the World Tree, a sacred axis that grants access to the virtues of both the upper and lower worlds and those that lie at the crossroads.

In ritual workings, the stang is a steadfast companion. Its presence anchors us, grounding our energy and connecting us to the land. When we walk the paths of the wild, the stang serves as a tool to gather and store land energy, the elusive "sprowl" that breathes life into our craft. It becomes a beacon, drawing the virtues of the earth and sky into our rites and rituals, where they can be harnessed and directed.

My Stang that I have been slowly working on for a few years now. It is made from Oak and the forked ends have Clear Quartz in each end. It has the Web of Wyrd Rune on the front and the symbols for each element on the back. I mainly use my Stang during laying and conjuring the crossroads for rituals.

-The Dance of Wood and Witch-

In the dance of wood and witch, we find our path illuminated by the virtues of our tools. The wand and the stang, though different in form and function, both serve as conduits of the ancient energies that flow through the natural world. They are not mere objects, but living entities that resonate with the heartbeat of the land.

Some practitioners favor keeping several wands, each made from different kinds of wood to suit various purposes. Yet, many find solace in the singular presence of one main stang or staff, a trusty ally that carries their spirit and intention.

As we continue to explore the virtues of the different woods, let us remember that our connection to these tools is a sacred bond. Through them, we touch the spirit of the trees, the whispers of the wind, and the silent strength of the earth. They are our guides, our protectors, and our allies in the timeless craft of cunning.

-The Virtues of Woods-

Note: This list is but a glimpse, for the world is rich with countless species of trees. Here, I focus on trees that dwell in my own corner of the world and the ones I know. These are mainly just the virtues of the wood and bark (not the leaves, flowers, seeds, or fruit). I highly recommend you embark on a journey to discover and list the trees within your local area, letting their virtues reveal themselves to you. Also, please take caution of any poisonous trees.

Alder: Defensive Magick, Strength, Leadership, Bravery, Divination, Healing, and Wind & Weather Magick

Apple: Love, Healing, Friendship, Divination, Garden Magick, and Harmony

Ash: Healing & Regeneration Magick, Sea Magick, Communication, Knowledge, Wisdom, Travel, Aids workings of Spirit, Passage Between Worlds, and is often the wood chosen for a Stang.

Beech: Wisdom, Knowledge, Focus, Meditation, Wishes

Birch: Purification, Creativity, Willpower, Initiation of Inception, Birth & Fertility.

Blackthorn: Baneful, Associated with Bucca Dhu/The Devil, Blasting, Defensive Magick, Setting Boundaries, Toad Magick, and Rites of The Dark Moon.

Cedar: Cleansing, Protection, Wards, Divination, Summoning, Consecration, Prosperity

Chestnut: Clarity, Focus, Justice, Encourage Longevity

Crepe Myrtle: Glamour Magick, Fertility, Youth, Peace, Money

Dogwood: Wishes, Protection, Health, Wisdom

Elder: Protection, Exorcising Illness, Spirit Conjuration, Blessing

Elm: Protection, Divine Feminine, Healing, Fae Magick

Gorse: Purification, Conjuration of Fair Weather, Discovering, Protection, Fertility & Love

Hawthorn: Associated with Bucca Gwidder/The Green Man, Dealings with Spirit Folk, Fertility, Enchantment, Wards, Charm, Spirituality, and Fishing Magick. Folklore suggests not using Hawthorn as a staff as it may employ ill luck upon walking journeys.

Hazel: Wisdom, Luck, Fertility, Wishes, Divination, Dowsing Wands, Inspiration & Visions

Hickory: Legal Matters, Protection, Protection, Wisdom, Leadership, Acquisition, Power, Wholeness

Holly: Aids Rites of Death/Rebirth, Exorcism, Defensive Magick, Potency, Logic, Power Transfer, Protection

Linden: Creativity, Enchantment, Enlightenment, Truth, Healing

Locust: Enforcing Boundaries, Binding, Defensive Magick, Enchantments, Wood and Thorns used to make pins for Baneful Magick, Appalachian Association with European Blackthorn Virtues.

Magnolia: Fidelity, Love, Hair Growth Magick, Marital Happiness

Maple: Love, Luck, Longevity, Money, Travel, Cleansing, Communication

Oak: Strength, Power, Protection, Wisdom, Longevity, Endurance, Doorways between Realms, Solar Magick, Potency, Associated with The Red Serpent.

Palm: Fertility, Focus, Potency, Divination, Purification, Protection

Pine: Strength, Protection, Healing, Prosperity, Exorcism, Wisdom, Increase of Power

Poplar: Spirituality, Change, Rebirth, Summoning, Wealth, Willpower, Witch Flight

Rowan: Protection, Guarding, Defensive Magick, Warding, Necromancy, Quickening, Conjuring Visions, Lifting Curses, A staff of Rowan protects while journeying.

Sumac: Cleansing, Healing, Creativity, Focus

Sweet Gum: Healing, Spirituality, Enchantment, Leadership

Sycamore: Ancestral Wisdom, Divination, Prosperity, Strength, Endurance

Walnut: Cleansing, Healing, Focus, Insight

Willow: Moon Rites & Workings, Emotion Healing, Love, Fertility, Divination, Change, Wishes, Enchantment, Spirituality, Wards

Witch Hazel: Chastity, Protection, Emotional Healing

Yew: Death Mysteries, Ancestral Wisdom, Transformation, Change, Renewal, Baneful, Necromancy

[astrocafecoffee]

✨"Short notes about being spiritual" ✨

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💙For entertainment purposes only, enjoy, don't forget to check my other observations too💙

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Leshh go!

✨ Note : it's all in natal chart.

🌀 Neptune in conjunction with personal planets or important angles(ascendent or midheaven).

🌀 Pluto aspects to personal planets or angles.

🌀 The ascendant and descendant axis represents the self and the other, respectively. Planets or point conjunct this angles especially Neptune or moon can suggest a focus on spiritual growth.

🌀 planet conjunct North node or nodal axis can indicate karmic lessons and opportunities for spiritual evolution in this lifetime.

🌀 The 4th, 8th and 12th houses are traditionally associated with spiritual matters. Planet or significant points ( like ruler of the 4th or 12th house) in this houses can signify deep inner journey, spiritual insights and connection to divine.

🌀 Chiron aspects to personal planets.

🌀 Harmonious aspects between moon and other planets.

🌀 Jupiter in 9th house can amplify one's interest in spiritual and philosophical matters.

🌀 Neptune in 12th house

🌀 Neptune in water signs or Pisces.

🌀 Vesta in 6th or 12th house.

🌀 Vesta in aspect to the nodes.

🌀 12th house stellium.

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That's it, hope you enjoyed 💙

- Piko ✨

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[ninibeingdelulu]

“I should’ve bought you flowers…”

plot- you run into Leon, your ex boyfriend CLICK ME

A bitterly crisp autumn breeze whistled down the empty cobblestone streets of the sleepy rural marketplace, rustling scarlet and amber leaves scuttling across Leon's boots.

He dug both leather-clad hands deeper into his jacket pockets while hunching further into the insulated collar turned up against the biting chill as he strode purposefully onwards.

Mid-afternoon foot traffic always remained relatively scant throughout town - most of the local shops and farmstands having already packed up for the day once their fresh harvests sold through.

All except for the lone family grocer tucked away on the far corner where Leon typically grabbed essentials for the upcoming week.

Just the way he preferred it - in and out quickly with minimal interactions beyond terse polite nods at the shopkeep ringing up his basket.

Today, however...

The distinct figure standing alone beside the open-air produce section instantly seized Leon's attention like an icy fist clenching vice-tight around his ribcage.

That unmistakable silhouette he'd know from a thousand lonely city blocks away no matter how many endless nights of haunted insomnia blurred his vision.

Even from behind, every perfectly etched line of those slender shoulders and the elegant slope of that elegant neck remained scorched into his memory as if branded by a white-hot iron fresh from the forge.

Despite the crystalline sunlight glinting off your silken hair spilling in luxurious waves, Leon's pulse roared thunderously in his ears until all else fell abruptly silent.

As if the earth itself ground to a screeching halt on its axis to better amplify the way his heart stuttered at the mere sight of you for the first time in over a year.

Leon's first instinct was to pivot on his heel and retreat - retracing his steps back the way he came before you'd sensed his presence.

But something deep and inexplicable within kept rooting him to that frostbitten cobblestone, feet feeling as though they'd taken sudden root.

He watched through the hazy blur as you stepped minutely closer to the vendor's stall, slender fingers curling pensively around the handle of your tote as your head swiveled ever so slowly.

Until those wide soulful eyes he knew better than any remembered prayer swiveled to lock with his for one breathless moment suspended in amber streaks of morning light.

Your lips parted on a shocked inhale while recognition washed across those beloved features with the force of a tidal wave.

Leon remained frozen to the spot - a poor reconstruction of the suave federal agent and hardened hunter of biohazard evils crumbling away to expose the hollowed out shell he'd become in your absence.

All those tightly regimented walls built up over the past year came crashing down to lay the tattered remnants of his heart exposed as an open wound once more.

One side of his lips tugged upwards in a weak facsimile of a smile that never reached the enduring anguish flickering behind those shadowed steel-blue irises.

With supreme effort, Leon forced air into his lungs enough to grit out two words scorching like acid across his tongue:

"Hey...stranger."

It was all the unraveling threads of his frayed composure could muster without shattering completely.

He swallowed thickly while pivoting on his heel, boots scuffing against the cobblestone as he made to continue onwards.

Away from here...away from you. Before any deeper glimpses of vulnerability managed to slip through and reveal his soul's innermost hemorrhaging.

Leon only managed to make it a few paces before your tremulous voice calling out finally fractured what remained of his crumbling resolve.

"Leon...wait."

He halted obediently while squeezing his eyes shut against the ghostly caress of your honeyed syllables washing over him for the first time in far too long.

Drawing a harsh, shuddering inhale, Leon gradually turned back just enough to chance a sidelong glance over his shoulder without meeting your pleading gaze head-on.

It was all the restraint he could cling to not to fully whirl around and stare...to greedily drink you in after being denied that forbidden oasis for what felt like an eternity.

"I..." Your speech briefly faltered- words clearly failing to manifest the roiling ocean of emotions swirling across your expression before you visibly steadied yourself.

"What you said one year ago, about not being...enough...That's not true at all. You were always more than enough for me."

A bitter, mirthless chuckle rasped past Leon's lips - barely even audible over the keening winds.

"Yeah...and it took you one entire year to say it ? Why didn’t you said it back then, before disappearing ?"

Both of you recoiled in unison at the harsh self-loathing barb like physical blows.

Your dismayed features twisted immediately into anguished denial only to falter helplessly as he shook his head firmly, making an abortive motion as if to physically halt the reassurance already forming on your lips.

"Look, I'm...sorry. That wasn't fair of me."

Leon dragged his palm down the exhausted lines of his face while fixing that stormy azure gaze straight ahead.

Away from the irresistible temptation of your wounded eyes he knew would unravel the few stray threads of his composure still wound tight.

"I counted every minutes, every seconds…damn, y/n."

His adam's apple bobbed in a pronounced swallow against the tightening pressure rapidly constricting his throat.

"I missed you, but over the months I realized it was a mistake...Now, wherever the road led you from here after we parted ways, well..."

Leon swept one final glance over his shoulder then to convey everything his faltering speech couldn't accurately translate.

"I really do hope wherever it takes you next makes you happier than I ever could."

With one final rueful quirk of his lips, the former RPD survivor pivoted on his heel once again and simply walked away without looking back.

Only once those ramrod shoulders had disappeared entirely around the winding village path did Leon allow himself to sag boneless against the nearest building's stucco exterior.

He scrubbed both palms across his face to muffle the wrecked keen ripping itself from his very marrow as endless rivulets of searing pain left twin trails streaking each chiseled cheekbone...

[multidimensionalguidance]

🌟 Massive Fame in Astrology 🌟

I decided to compile in a short note information concerning fame on a massive scale per KRS Youtube channel observations.

Key points: Rahu and Venus

Where? 5th/7th/10th Houses

Just in D1? Nope, also in D9 (Navamsa) and D10 (Dasamsa)

Venus specifically in Magha Nakshatra which is in Leo and/or in 5th house are big fame indicators, and even more so for those interested or working in the entertainment world.

Any of these two planets in the 7th or 10th will amplify your control over the masses. Venus does it through charm and grace, whereas Rahu does it through being cunning and innovative.

Extra:

Arudha Lagna (AL) has also been mentioned by him in other fame related videos. This point shows your social status, how you appear to others, possibility of fame, illusory perception of the self from others.

He mentioned that if AL has any planet present in its 1st, 7th from itself or possibly even 10th from itself, then during the MD/AD period of any of those planets (emphasis on 1st/7th axis planets in AL chart) it will “explode” the fame of the native. You will become known for whatever the trait of those planets have even after death. This could be for good or for bad depending on the strength of the planet (by sign or aspects).

AL conjunct Moon, so basically your AL sign matching your Moon sign also signifies popularity as well! Affliction from 7H could impact it but it will be there nonetheless.

If you’d like to know the details for every planet, click here and view the main video of these notes from KRS.

You can calculate your AL in here 🌟 Also, please keep in mind that there are some exceptions to how it is calculated. AL cannot fall 1st or 7th from itself, so if it does, you must count again the same amount of placed your ASC lord is sitting from ASC. Read further online for further details and explanations!

If you’d like to know how likely massive fame could be for you and to learn further about the type of fame or reputation you could acquire through life, request a reading via DM!

[astrofutureguy]

ASPECTS IN ASTROLOGY

Aspects are angles that planets make in relation to: a) one another, b) the ascendant-descendant axis, midheaven-nadir, or c) other points of astrological interest.

Traditional major/Ptolemaic/basic aspects are the ones that evenly divide the 360° circle, and are also divisible by 10.

-

Conjunction (☌/0°): This aspect creates a union of planets involved. The energy creates a collectively new nature of planets. All planets involved are dependent on one another, all the time. When the conjunction between two planets is exact, it is called a "partile" aspect.

The term "exact" conjunction refers to a conjunction in which the two planets are at exactly the same degree and minute of the zodiac. Because it suggests a very powerful merging of those two planets' energies, potentially amplifying their combined influence in a native's chart, a partile is thought of as very potent!

Sextile (⚹/60°): This aspect's nature is hard to crack but is helpful. It shows there is some benefit coming from the planets involved, but it might be too vague, concealed, repressed, or already taken for granted. This aspect manifests itself as guides and signals.

Square (□/90°): This is a rough aspect that shows disagreement between the planets involved. They are always in conflict, but after some time, a mutual agreement can be put forth. This aspect of conflict is always obvious and can be solved by the native, after some serious articulation. This aspect can come forward as barriers in life.

Trine (△/120°): This is the most beneficial of all aspects. It offers mutual agreement between the planets involved on a very strong level. This aspect often manifests itself as luck and fortune in native's life. The planets involved are working for the same goal and help each other constructively. Following this aspect can offer you the luckiest path in your life.

Opposition (☍/180°): This is the most difficult of all aspects. the disagreement between the planets involved is so polar, that the energy it tries to communicate can easily be repressed or compartmentalised. This aspect stays with the native almost all of their life, and can come forward in ways one can not control. Native always has to let one of the sides win, and has to pay for the other; since both are independent.

-

*book with me on calendly.com/astrofutureguy

[talonabraxas]

Full Moon in Taurus Talon Abraxas

Super Full Moon in Taurus: Winds of Change

On November 15, 4:28 PM EST, just a few hours after Saturn stationed direct in Pisces, a Super Full Moon at 24º00’ Taurus lights up the night sky. The winds of change are blowing, and this event brings revolutionary energy into our lives, as the Moon is tightly conjunct with Uranus.

This is a Super Full Moon as it happens closer to Earth than usual: besides appearing bigger and brighter than a regular Full Moon, her gravitational pull is stronger then usual and tends to be felt more intensely. This is the last Super Full Moon of the calendar year, and we won’t experience another one until November 5, 2025.

The Taurus Super Full Moon will be particularly relevant for those of us born with planets or angles around the 24º of Fixed signs (Taurus, Leo, Scorpio, Aquarius). The individuals more strongly impacted by the Taurus Full Moon are more likely to experience significant shifts of plans, unexpected changes, and turning points. They will have opportunities to let go of their attachment to something that holds them back from growing and make room for the new and the unfamiliar.

Super Full Moon in Taurus: Revelations and Moments of Clarity

Once a month, when the Moon is fully illuminated by the Sun, we have an opportunity to gain awareness of something we normally can’t see with such clarity. Full Moons are the peak of the lunar cycle, they are a time of culmination and completion, and they offer us chances to reap the rewards of our work and enjoy the fruits of our efforts.

When the Moon is Full, we are more likely to experience some sort of revelation and a-ha moments and come across information that was previously unavailable or unclear. Full Moons always involve an opposition between the Sun and the Moon: oppositions are 180º angles that activate two opposing and complementary signs, exacerbating the polarization and the tension between them.

This month, the Taurus-Scorpio axis is in the spotlight, and this brings our attention to the need to accept the inherent impermanence of life and learn to understand when it is time to hold on to the known and when instead it is time to welcome change and take a leap into the unknown.

Exploring our Resistance to Change

During Scorpio season, a time of the year centered around embracing the cycles of life, transforming from the inside out, and diving into the depths of our unconscious fears, taboos, and complexes, the Taurus Full Moon shines a light on the value of simplicity. This event invites us to stay grounded and connected with our physical bodies and emphasizes our need for comfort, stability, and security.

In Taurus, the Moon is traditionally said to be exalted, as this sign is deeply attuned to the survival instinct and aware of the body’s rhythms, sensations, and needs on a moment-to-moment basis. Taurean qualities such as the need for stability and the tendency to resist change become heightened when the Moon is here. Since the Moon has to do with our basic security needs, when she travels through the sign of the Bull we feel a stronger desire to protect and maintain the structures that make us feel safe and secure.

The current Full Moon in Taurus amplifies the inherent tension of the Taurus-Scorpio polarity, the neverending push and pull between the impulse to evolve and the instinct to resist change, between the drive to transform and the need to preserve, between building foundations and destroying them to make room for growth. Uranus’ prominence in this configuration adds a unique element of surprise and unpredictability to the mix.

Full Moon conjunct Uranus: Wild Card

A lot is going on in the heavens these days and just a few days before Pluto’s final ingress into Aquarius, a Full Moon in Taurus conjunct Aquarius’ ruler Uranus shakes up our lives and revolutionizes our reality, pushing us past our resistance to change.

This Taurus Full Moon is a wild card, likely to come with a fair share of surprises, shifts of plans, and unexpected turns of events. While Taurus can be considered the most stability-oriented sign of the Zodiac, Uranus, also referred to as the Great Awakener, is all about change, innovation, progress, and rebellion from the status quo.

When Uranus is conjunct with the Moon, the winds of change are blowing in unpredictable ways. We tend to experience sudden disruptions to our comfort zone, erratic and volatile emotions, and a significant surge in our need for freedom, independence, and authentic living. This configuration emphasizes the desire to rebel from constriction, injustice, andstagnation, and pushes us to leave behind our attachment to comfort zones that no longer allow us to grow and progress.

Many of us are likely to experience sudden flashes of genius, downloads, and access insights and a-ha moments that mark a before and after in our lives. Many will experience breakthroughs and turning points, many will feel drawn to make radical changes in their reality and revolutionize their lives according to what is true for them.

Uranus is all about rebellion from conditioning and from the status quo: because of Uranus’ prominence, this Full Moon will inspire us to follow our unique path even when it differs from the majority, even when it doesn’t conform to what is expected of us.

Full Moon trine Pluto and sextile Neptune

The Full Moon in Taurus is harmonically aligned with both Pluto, at 29º Capricorn, and Neptune, at 27º Pisces. The activation of all three transpersonal planets (Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto) suggests that this Full Moon is likely to have a significant impact on global affairs and collective issues.

The Full Moon’s trine to Pluto and sextile to Neptune both support our ability to tap into our intuition, access our sixth sense, and open the doors of perception. Pluto’s influence motivates us to explore the shadow aspects of our psyche and the world around us and challenges us to recognize collective shadows in ourselves. The Moon-Pluto trine helps us access a deeper understanding of our and others’ underlying motives, desires, and needs.

Neptune’s subtle, mystical, dreamlike energy enhances our capacity for empathy and compassion while increasing our awareness of our interconnectedness as well as our ability to feel the collective emotional body and the emotions of the people around us.

Venus is squaring the Moon’s Nodes

Venus is the planetary ruler of Taurus, hence she rules this Full Moon: studying her condition gives us more information about the energy of this event and how it will manifest. Venus is in Capricorn, a sign where she is reminding us of the value of commitment, reliability, and integrity. In Capricorn, Venus is not particularly romantic but, since Capricorn is an Earth sign, she is strongly connected with the physical body and the five senses.

Venus is currently squaring the Nodes of the Moon in Libra and Aries. When planets square the Lunar Nodes, they are also referred to as “skipped steps”, which means they highlight developmental wounds from our childhood or karmic issues we carry from past lives that are keeping us from further growth. Around the time of this Full Moon, we experience the push and pull between the familiar ways of relating to others and the desire to establish new patterns and evolve.

This configuration is an opportunity for us to gain awareness of the root of repetitive cycles that we tend to get trapped in over and over again and understand in what ways we need to mature. In Capricorn, Venus squaring the Nodes can highlight the need to heal from a disconnection from pleasure and the body linked to societal and familial conditioning. Financial issues can also come into the spotlight around this time, offering us opportunities to work on deep-seated beliefs about abundance, scarcity, and our worth.

Super Full Moon in Taurus: Staying Grounded Amidst Turbulence

As the Full Moon in Taurus peaks, Mars and Pluto are still opposing each other. Mars is now in Leo but moving slightly slower than usual due to his upcoming retrograde, starting on December 6. The Mars-Pluto opposition keeps highlightingthe tension between our egoic urges, desires, and needs and the evolutionary impulses and desires coming directly from our Soul. We are traversing a collective evolutionary threshold, and Uranus’ activation on this Full Moon can bring shocking and unforeseen turns of events that push us to evolve and change before we feel ready for it.

The pace of events and of our collective evolution will dramatically accelerate with Pluto’s ingress into Aquarius, and this Full Moon is preparing the stage for it. These days, something may shake us from complacency and challenge us to adapt quickly.

The Taurus Full Moon invites us to refine our ability to stay grounded amidst turbulence and connect with a feeling of inner steadiness and calm even when everything around us is changing rapidly and unexpectedly. This event highlights the need to practice staying present and in our bodies regardless of what is going on in our external reality. -Moon Omens

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surprise! | JOE BURROW⁹ [002]

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MASTERLIST

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3.8k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you and joe had just come back from your honeymoon in barbados, you may have had a little too much fun. when you see the faint lines in the little white stick, your whole world flipped on its axis.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | hurt to comfort, maisie being the bff we all want, joe being a little bitch but very much redeeming himself, accidental pregnancy

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐓, a sharp contrast to the warmth lingering from the honeymoon sun still clinging to your skin. The little white stick in your hand shakes as you hold it up to the light, as if a change in perspective might make the impossible go away.

Two lines.

Not one. Not a faint maybe. Two.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, though the words barely make it past your lips. Your stomach churns, a cocktail of disbelief and panic swirling with the remnants of the overpriced airport mimosa you’d barely finished that morning.

You set the test down on the counter, its presence looming over you like it’s about to sprout arms and legs and start screaming mommy. The mirror stares back at you with wide eyes and a flushed face, betraying the calm you’re desperately trying��and failing—to summon.

This wasn’t in the plan. Not yet, anyway. Sure, you and Joe had tossed the idea around like kids dreaming about what they’d do if they won the lottery. Someday, you’d both said, voices warm with the kind of certainty that comes with knowing someday was still miles away. Except now it wasn’t. Now, someday had packed its bags, booked an early flight, and was knocking on your front door with a freaking plus sign in tow.

Your phone buzzes against the counter, breaking the spell. A message from Joe. You grab it with shaky hands, hoping it’ll say practice is running late because you’re not ready to face him—not yet.

“Just finished. Home in 20. Love you.”

Your throat tightens. Love you too, you type back, fingers trembling, though it feels like a lie of omission. You toss the phone aside and sink to the floor, staring at the ceiling like it might offer you some divine revelation. It doesn’t.

"Maisie," you mutter, your voice steadier than your heart. You fumble for your phone, pulling up her number with muscle memory born from years of late-night calls about heartbreaks and bad decisions. She picks up on the second ring, because of course she does.

“What’s up, Mama Burrow?” Maisie chirps, the nickname rolling off her tongue like she’d been waiting all week to use it. “You finally settling back into boring married life, or is Joe still parading you around town like he’s the first guy to ever marry someone hot?”

You open your mouth to reply but nothing comes out. A beat of silence stretches long enough for her to pick up on it.

“Uh-oh,” Maisie says, her tone shifting. “What’s wrong?”

“I...” Your voice cracks, and the word sticks in your throat like glue. You take a deep breath, trying to sound normal, but Maisie’s already caught on. She always does.

“Spill it,” she demands, no-nonsense now.

“I think I’m pregnant.”

The words feel foreign, clumsy, like they don’t belong to you. There’s a beat of silence on the other end, and for a second you think Maisie might actually have dropped the phone.

“Holy shit,” she finally says. “Are you sure?”

You glance at the test on the counter, its little pink lines glaring back at you like a smug toddler. “Pretty sure.”

Maisie whistles low. “Okay, okay. Don’t freak out. Deep breaths. Are you freaking out? You sound like you’re freaking out.”

“I’m definitely freaking out.”

Maisie’s sharp inhale is audible even through the speaker. “Alright, first things first—how the hell did this happen? And don’t give me the when two people love each other very much spiel.”

You let out a nervous laugh, your free hand rubbing at your temples. “Maisie, I don’t know! Everything was so... perfect on the honeymoon, and I guess we weren’t exactly strict about—”

“Girl,” she interrupts, “did you honeymoon baby yourself into a panic attack right now?”

“Maybe!” you squeak, voice climbing an octave. You glance at the test again, as if its tiny, pastel-pink lines might have disappeared in the past thirty seconds. No such luck. “Oh God, Maisie, I don’t know how to tell Joe. This was not in the playbook.”

Maisie snorts. “You mean Joe’s playbook? The one he probably memorized while you were still deciding on your wedding shoes?”

You groan, dragging your knees up to your chest as you sit on the floor, phone cradled between your ear and shoulder. “I’m serious! He’s going to come home and think we’re on the same page about unpacking, settling in, maybe rescuing a dog before we even think about—” You choke on the word. It’s too big. Too real.

“Parenting,” Maisie finishes for you, voice softer now. “Hey, listen at me—well, pretend you’re looking at me.”

“I’m on the floor, Maisie. I can’t even listen at myself right now.”

“Drama queen,” she mutters, then clears her throat. “Okay, listen. Joe Burrow is, like, the definition of cool under pressure. Super Bowls. Heisman speeches. The guy even pulled off that stupid cigar picture—”

“It was kind of hot,” you admit weakly.

“Exactly my point. If anyone’s going to handle surprise baby news like a champ, it’s him.”

You press the heel of your hand to your chest, trying to calm your heart, which feels like it’s attempting a touchdown dance. “But what if he doesn’t? What if he’s not ready? What if I’m not ready?”

Maisie scoffs. “Girl, you’ve been ready since we were, like, fourteen and you made me play house with you and pretend our dolls had perfect marriages.”

“That was your idea,” you mumble, cheeks flushing despite yourself.

“Details,” she says breezily. “Point is, you love Joe, right? And he loves you. Like, disgustingly so. This is just... an early plot twist in your love story.”

You nibble on your bottom lip, her words seeping in despite the chaos in your head. “A plot twist,” you echo softly.

“Exactly. You guys are basically the rom-com of the century. This is the part where you freak out, but then you tell him, and he gives you that stupidly dreamy look he always gives you, and everything’s fine. Better than fine. It’s Burrow-level fine.”

A laugh bubbles out of you, shaky but genuine, and for a moment, the knot in your chest loosens. Maisie always has this way of dragging you back from the ledge, even if it’s with an eye roll and a smack of reality.

“Okay,” you say finally, exhaling. “Okay. You’re right. I can do this.”

“Damn straight, you can.” There’s a pause, and then Maisie’s voice is smug. “You’re not gonna, like, practice how to tell him, are you?”

“I might.”

“You’re such a nerd.”

“Shut up, Maisie.”

Her laugh is warm, grounding, and you lean your head back against the cabinet, clutching the phone like a lifeline. The thought of Joe walking through that door still sends your stomach into somersaults, but Maisie’s words cling to you like armor.

“You’re going to be an amazing mom,” she adds softly after a moment.

Your throat tightens again, but this time, it’s different—like the panic is starting to make room for something else. Something softer.

“Thanks, Maisie,” you whisper, voice cracking.

“Anytime. Now go splash some water on your face before Joe comes home and thinks you’ve been crying over a pet shelter commercial or something.”

“I don’t do that!” you protest weakly.

Maisie snorts. “Sure you don’t. Call me after you tell him, okay? I’ll be waiting with popcorn.”

You hang up, her voice still echoing in your ear, and stand on shaky legs. The test is still there on the counter, quiet and unassuming, like it didn’t just upend your entire universe.

You stare at it for a moment longer, then glance at the clock. Fifteen minutes until Joe walks through the door. Fifteen minutes to figure out how to tell him the most life-changing news of your lives.

No pressure.

And like clockwork, fifteen minutes pass and the door creaks open. You immediately straighten up from where you’re perched on the edge of the couch, legs tucked underneath you. You’ve spent the past fifteen minutes trying to look casual, which is surprisingly difficult when your insides feel like they’ve been twisted into a pretzel.

Joe steps into the house, duffle bag slung over one shoulder, his usually confident posture slightly slumped. His hair is damp with sweat, his cheeks flushed, and the moment you catch sight of his expression, your rehearsed speech evaporates into thin air.

“Hey,” you call softly, plastering on a smile. “How was practice?”

Joe groans in response, dropping his bag by the door and toeing off his sneakers with more force than usual. He doesn’t answer right away, just runs a hand through his hair and flops onto the armchair across from you, his long legs sprawling out in exhaustion.

“Terrible,” he finally says, dragging the word out like it’s physically painful.

Your stomach sinks. This is not the Joe you were expecting to walk into the room. You were braced for smiles, maybe a kiss hello, and definitely a much lighter mood. But this version of him—frustrated, clearly in need of venting—throws all your plans into chaos.

“Terrible?” you echo, hoping he’ll elaborate so you can stall a little longer.

“Terrible,” he repeats, throwing his head back against the chair and closing his eyes. “Nothing clicked today. The line wasn’t holding, the receivers were off, and I couldn’t hit a damn target to save my life. It’s like the entire offense forgot how to play football overnight.”

His voice is tight, his usual even-keeled tone replaced by an edge of irritation. You watch as he pinches the bridge of his nose, the familiar gesture making your heart ache a little. He’s so rarely like this—usually the calm in any storm—but when he does get frustrated, it hits hard.

You shift on the couch, unsure of what to say. Normally, you’d jump in with words of reassurance, tell him it’s just one bad day and he’ll bounce back like he always does. But right now, your mind is too preoccupied with the secret still tucked away behind your lips.

“You okay?” he asks suddenly, cracking one eye open to look at you.

Your heart jumps into your throat. “Me? Oh! Yeah. Totally fine. Why?”

Joe squints at you, like he’s trying to read something between the lines, but after a moment, he lets it drop. Maybe he’s too tired to push. Maybe you’re better at faking normal than you thought. Either way, he slouches further into the chair, his head lolling to the side.

“I’m just over it,” he mutters. “Sometimes it feels like everything has to be perfect, you know? Like, I can’t afford to have a bad day. Not with the season coming up. Not with everything riding on me.”

The weight in his words makes your chest tighten. You know he puts so much pressure on himself, even when no one else is. It’s one of the things you love about him—his determination, his drive—but hearing it like this makes you want to wrap him in a hug and take some of that burden off his shoulders.

Instead, you sit there silently, because your secret feels like a tangible wall between you, keeping you from saying what you really want to.

Joe lets out a humorless laugh. “Can you imagine throwing a kid into the mix right now?” He shakes his head, running a hand down his face. “I’d lose my mind.”

Your stomach drops.

He doesn’t mean anything by it. You know that. He’s venting, speaking off the cuff, probably not even thinking about what he’s saying. But the words hit you like a brick anyway, sharp and unyielding, and suddenly your palms feel clammy against the soft fabric of your leggings.

You manage a small laugh—weak and wobbly, but hopefully passable. “Yeah, that’d be... a lot.”

Joe doesn’t notice the crack in your voice. He stands, stretching his arms over his head with a groan before glancing down at you. “I’m gonna hit the shower. Try to shake off the rest of this day.”

“Good idea,” you say quickly, nodding like a bobblehead.

He leans down to kiss your forehead—a brief, automatic gesture that still makes your heart flutter despite the weight in your chest—and then heads toward the stairs, his footsteps heavy against the wood.

The moment he disappears, you sag against the couch, letting out a shaky exhale you didn’t realize you were holding. Your eyes dart to the bathroom down the hall, where the pregnancy test is still tucked away in a drawer like some kind of incriminating evidence.

What are you supposed to do now? How do you tell him something this big when he’s clearly already carrying so much?

You pull your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them as your mind races. Part of you wants to march upstairs, blurt it out, and deal with the fallout. But another part—the louder, more terrified part—wants to bury the news under a mountain of throw pillows and pretend it doesn’t exist.

Joe’s words echo in your mind, sharp and unshakable. I’d lose my mind.

Maybe Maisie was wrong. Maybe this plot twist wasn’t something Joe was ready for. Maybe you weren’t ready for it, either.

And yet, deep down, you know you can’t keep this to yourself forever. This isn’t just your story to tell; it’s his, too.

You just have to figure out how.

┈┈┈

The smell of freshly brewed coffee fills the kitchen, warm and inviting, a small comfort in the midst of the chaos swirling inside your head. You’re standing at the counter in your robe, staring at the dark liquid as it pours into your mug, willing the caffeine to work its magic and steady your nerves.

Maisie’s already at the table, legs crossed, scrolling through her phone as she sips from her own cup. She’d shown up at 7 a.m. sharp, a whirlwind of energy even in yoga pants and an oversized hoodie, the perfect distraction from the tangled mess of your thoughts.

“So,” Maisie says, finally looking up. “Did you tell him?”

Your heart skips a beat. You turn back to the coffee maker, suddenly fascinated by the machine’s little blinking light. “Not... exactly.”

Maisie groans, setting her phone down with an exaggerated thud. “Girl. What do you mean, ‘not exactly’? That was the whole point of last night!”

“I tried,” you say defensively, glancing over your shoulder. “But he came home in a mood, and it just didn’t feel like the right time.”

Maisie gives you a look—a mix of sympathy and exasperation that only a best friend can pull off. “Okay, but there’s never going to be a perfect time. You know that, right? You just have to rip off the Band-Aid.”

Before you can reply, you hear the familiar creak of the stairs, and your chest tightens. Joe’s footsteps are heavy as he descends, his presence filling the kitchen even before he appears.

When he finally walks in, you can tell immediately that he’s still carrying yesterday’s frustration. His jaw is tight, his hair slightly mussed from sleep, and his movements have that sharp, impatient edge that screams not a morning person.

“Morning,” you say tentatively, hoping the coffee might soften his mood.

Joe grunts in response, heading straight for the counter without sparing a glance in your direction. He grabs a mug and pours himself some coffee, his shoulders hunched as he takes a sip.

Maisie watches him with raised eyebrows, her own cup paused halfway to her lips. “Wow,” she says dryly. “Good morning to you too, Sunshine.”

Joe doesn’t even acknowledge her, his focus fixed on the steam rising from his mug. You wince, already anticipating what’s coming next.

Maisie sets her cup down with a clink, crossing her arms. “Alright, what’s your problem?”

Joe finally looks at her, his expression dark. “I don’t have a problem.”

“Uh-huh,” Maisie says, leaning back in her chair. “Because stomping around the kitchen like a grumpy giant definitely screams ‘everything’s fine.’”

“Maisie—” you start, but she holds up a hand to stop you.

“No, seriously,” she says, her voice gaining heat. “What’s with the attitude? You’re acting like the world’s ending, and she—” Maisie gestures to you with her free hand, “—is bending over backward trying not to stress you out.”

Joe frowns, glancing at you for the first time that morning. “I’m fine,” he says, but it’s clipped, like he’s trying to end the conversation before it starts.

Maisie narrows her eyes. “Well, maybe you should try being a little more considerate. Especially with her condition.”

The room goes silent.

Your blood runs cold, and Maisie freezes, her face paling as she realizes what she’s just said. You stare at her, wide-eyed, your heart pounding in your chest.

“What condition?” Joe asks slowly, his brows furrowing as he looks between the two of you.

Maisie presses her lips together, looking like she wants to melt into the floor. She flicks her gaze toward you, silently pleading for help, but your mind is too blank to come to her rescue.

Joe’s eyes narrow, his focus shifting entirely to you. “What’s she talking about?”

You open your mouth to say something—anything—but no words come out. The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating, and you can see the wheels turning in Joe’s head as he pieces it together.

“Wait,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “Are you...?”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but the look on his face says it all. Confusion, realization, and a flicker of something else—something you can’t quite read—flash across his features.

Maisie clears her throat, breaking the tension. “Well,” she says awkwardly, standing up and grabbing her mug. “This feels like a good time for me to leave.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, practically bolting for the door. The sound of it closing behind her echoes through the suddenly too-quiet kitchen.

Joe’s still staring at you, his coffee forgotten on the counter. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but it feels like the ground is shifting beneath your feet.

“Is it true?” he asks, his voice softer now but no less intense.

And just like that, there’s no more hiding.

Your hands tighten around your coffee mug as if it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. Joe’s gaze is locked onto you now, his exhaustion melting into something else entirely—a mix of confusion, worry, and a dawning realization that leaves no room for escape.

Your throat is dry, words caught somewhere between your heart and your mouth. The longer you stay silent, the heavier his question hangs in the air.

“Y/N,” he says again, more urgently this time. “Is it true?”

You set your mug down carefully on the counter, afraid it might slip from your trembling hands. His eyes follow the motion, then snap back to yours, searching for confirmation in your expression. You can feel your heartbeat thudding in your ears, loud and insistent, drowning out every coherent thought.

“I—” you begin, your voice cracking. You clear your throat, trying again. “Yes. It’s true.”

Joe takes a step back, blinking as though he’s been physically struck. His hands drop to his sides, and for a moment, he just stands there, staring at you like he’s trying to process a foreign language.

“I’m pregnant,” you add, the words tumbling out in a rush before you lose your nerve completely.

The silence that follows is deafening.

Joe drags a hand down his face, his features tense and unreadable. You hate that you can’t tell what he’s thinking, that the connection you’ve always shared feels out of reach in this moment.

“How long have you known?” he finally asks, his voice low and steady, but there’s an edge to it that makes your stomach twist.

“A few days,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Since we got back from the honeymoon.”

He lets out a sharp exhale, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I was going to!” you say quickly, stepping closer. “I just—” You falter, searching for the right words. “I didn’t know how. And yesterday, you were so upset, and I didn’t want to make things worse.”

“Make things worse?” Joe repeats, his tone incredulous. He sets his own mug down a little too forcefully, the sound making you flinch. “You thought this would make things worse?”

You swallow hard, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “You were so frustrated about practice,” you say, your voice trembling. “And then you said that thing about how everything has to be perfect right now. I didn’t want to drop this on you and have you feel like—”

“Like what?” he interrupts, his eyes narrowing. “Like I wouldn’t want this?”

Your breath hitches, and you look away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. “I don’t know,” you admit quietly.

The room feels too small, the air thick with the weight of everything unspoken. Joe runs a hand through his hair, his frustration giving way to something softer, something almost vulnerable.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice gentler now, “I’m not mad that you’re pregnant. I’m mad that you felt like you couldn’t tell me. That you thought I wouldn’t be ready for something like this.”

You glance up at him, tears slipping down your cheeks despite your best efforts to hold them back. “It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you,” you say, your voice cracking. “I was scared. This wasn’t part of the plan, Joe. We just got married. We’re still figuring things out. And I know how much pressure you’re under right now—I didn’t want to add to it.”

He exhales slowly, stepping closer until he’s standing right in front of you. His hands find yours, pulling them away from where they’re wringing the hem of your robe. His grip is warm, grounding, and you cling to it like a lifeline.

“Look,” he says, his voice steady now. “I won’t lie—I wasn’t expecting this either. And yeah, it’s not perfect timing. But when has anything in our life ever gone exactly according to plan?”

You let out a shaky laugh, and he smiles, just a little, the tension in his shoulders easing.

“We’ve always figured things out together,” he continues. “This isn’t any different. It’s just... a bigger adjustment. But if there’s one thing I know, it’s that there’s nobody I’d rather figure it out with than you.”

His words hit you square in the chest, and you feel a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. But this time, they’re not born of fear—they’re from relief, from the overwhelming love that’s been there all along, even in the moments of doubt.

Joe reaches up, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “We’ve got this, okay?” he says softly.

You nod, a small smile breaking through despite the storm of emotions still swirling inside you. “Okay.”

And for the first time in days, you believe it.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[gael-garcia]

Writers Against the War on Gaza (WAWOG) is an ad hoc coalition committed to solidarity and the horizon of liberation for the Palestinian people. Drawing together writers, editors, and other culture workers, WAWOG hopes to provide ongoing infrastructure for cultural organizing in response to the war. This project is modeled on American Writers Against the War in Vietnam, an organization founded in 1965.

Statement of Solidarity

October 26, 2023

Israel’s war against Gaza is an attempt to conduct genocide against the Palestinian people. This war did not begin on October 7th. However, in the last 19 days, the Israeli military has killed over 6,500 Palestinians, including more than 2,500 children, and wounded over 17,000. Gaza is the world’s largest open-air prison: its 2 million residents—a majority of whom are refugees, descendants of those whose land was stolen in 1948—have been deprived of basic human rights since the blockade in 2006. We share the assertions of human rights groups, scholars, and, above all, everyday Palestinians: Israel is an apartheid state, designed to privilege Jewish citizens at the expense of Palestinians, heedless of the many Jewish people, both in Israel and across the diaspora, who oppose their own conscription in an ethno-nationalist project. 

We come together as writers, journalists, academics, artists, and other culture workers to express our solidarity with the people of Palestine. We stand with their anticolonial struggle for freedom and for self-determination, and with their right to resist occupation. We stand firmly by Gaza’s people, victims of a genocidal war the United States government continues to fund and arm with military aid—a crisis compounded by the illegal settlement and dispossession of the West Bank and the subjugation of Palestinians within the state of Israel.

We stand in opposition to the silencing of dissent and to racist and revisionist media cycles, further perpetuated by Israel’s attempts to bar reporting in Gaza, where journalists have been both denied entry and targeted by Israeli forces. At least 24 journalists in Gaza have now been killed. Internationally, writers and cultural workers have faced severe harassment, workplace retribution, and job loss for expressing solidarity with Palestine, whether by stating facts about their continued occupation, or for amplifying the voices of others. These are instances that mark severe incursions against supposed speech protections. Specious charges of antisemitism are leveled against Zionism’s critics; political repression has been particularly aggressive against the free speech of Muslim, Arab, and Black people living in the US and across the globe. As was the case following the September 11th attacks, Islamophobic political fervor and the widespread circulation of unsubstantiated claims has galvanized a US-led coalition of military support for a brutal campaign of violence.

What can we do to intervene against Israel’s eliminationist assault on the Palestinian people? Words alone cannot stop the onslaught of devastation of Palestinian homes and lives, backed shamelessly and without hesitation by the entire axis of Western power. At the same time, we must reckon with the role words and images play in the war on Gaza and the ferocious support they have engendered: Israel’s defense minister announced the siege as a fight against “human animals”; even as we learned that Israel had rained bombs down on densely populated urban neighborhoods and deployed white phosphorus in Gaza City, the New York Times editorial board wrote that “what Israel is fighting to defend is a society that values human life and the rule of law”; establishment media outlets continue to describe Hamas’s attack on Israel as “unprovoked.” Writers Against the War on Gaza rejects this perversion of meaning, wherein a nuclear state can declare itself a victim in perpetuity while openly enacting genocide. We condemn those in our industries who continue to enable apartheid and genocide. We cannot write a free Palestine into existence, buttogether we must do all we possibly can to reject narratives that soothe Western complicity in ethnic cleansing. 

We act alongside other writers, scholars, and artists who have expressed solidarity with the Palestinian cause, drawing inspiration from the Palestinian spirit of sumud, steadfastness, and resistance. Since 2004, the Palestinian Campaign for the Academic and Cultural Boycott of Israel (PACBI) has advocated for organizations to join a boycott of institutions representing the Israeli state or cultural institutions complicit with its apartheid regime. We call on all our colleagues working in cultural institutions to endorse that boycott. And we invite writers, editors, journalists, scholars, artists, musicians, actors, and anyone in creative and academic work to sign this statement. Join us in building a new cultural front for a free Palestine.  

Signed,

WAWOG Interim Organizing Committee

Hannah Black

Ari Brostoff (Senior Editor, Jewish Currents)

Elena Comay del Junco

Kyle Dacuyan (Executive Director, Poetry Project)

Kay Gabriel (Editorial Director, Poetry Project)

Kaleem Hawa

E. Tammy Kim

Shiv Kotecha

Wendy Lotterman (Associate Editor, Parapraxis)

Muna Mire

Perwana Nazif

Brendan O'Connor

Alex Press (Staff Writer, Jacobin)

Sarah Nicole Prickett

Dylan Saba

Zoé Samudzi (Associate Editor, Parapraxis)

Jasmine Sanders

Claire Schwartz (Culture Editor, Jewish Currents)

Janique Vigier

Harron Walker

Chloe Watlington

Gabriel Winant (Department of History, University of Chicago)

Audrey Wollen

Hannah Zeavin (Founding Editor, Parapraxis)

Signed, In Solidarity

Fatimah Warner (Noname)

Saul Williams

Susan Sarandon

Janeane Garofalo

Gael García Bernal

Danez Smith

Ocean Vuong

Aria Aber

Saidiya Hartman

China Miéville

+ full list here

[seafoamreadings]

week of september 15th, 2024

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: it's eclipse week! most of that will happen without too much effort from you or even conscious awareness of it, which is probably going to suit you just fine. what you may be more aware of is the mars-nodal square around the same time. consider getting out of the house a bit, going somewhere for a change of scenery but without feeling too out of your element; the house of a close friend, a favorite place in nature, etc.

taurus: romantic dalliances may turn tumultuous if not actually sour this week, especially if not all has been above board. friendships can also get a little bit, let's say, interesting. use your good will as a defense; a little good karma never hurts. do your best not to act with malicious intent in any matter.

gemini: something puts you in the public eye with this eclipse, or at least under the scrutiny of a supervisor or someone in a similar role. this brings about changes, which hopefully are for the best! if all your action has been in alignment with your best self and highest goals, this goes well. otherwise, perhaps not.

cancerians: any eclipse is a big deal for you as the lunar creature you are. the full moon ones perhaps even more so. this one is in watery pisces, and can have you reconsidering or being forced to change academic pursuits, philosophies, and even deeply held spiritual beliefs. above all, don't try to hide or deny truths. be flexible as new information arises or events occur.

leo: i've said it before and i'll say it again, leos feel eclipses every bit as much as cancerians. you don't get a free pass by not being lunar, because you are the epitome of solar and the eclipse doesn't happen without the sun! this eclipse focuses on your resources, the ones you've shored up for yourself or were born with as well as the ones inherited, married into, or otherwise shared.

virgo: relationships are often a core theme for you due to neptune and saturn both long in your sign. this week it's all amplified and brought to a head by the lunar eclipse in pisces - which of course requires input from the sun in your sign. you don't have to be scared of eclipses, but don't expect things to still be the same after this week.

libra: although the eclipse is not directly involving your sign, the nodes of the moon are along the aries-libra axis. and mars is squaring them from your fellow cardinal sign of cancer. you do not have to act on the urge to Do Something, but you do need to heed it, take note of what it is telling you and how much comes from yourself vs what comes from expectations or fears. actions can come later; this week focus on stillness, patience, and collecting information. the eclipse will churn up plenty of it.

scorpio: as a fixed sign, chaos and volatility may not be your favorite vibe. but mars is in a position such that you can actually manipulate the situation in your favor. for one thing, while most people are uneasy about the unknown because it is scary, it also is full of hope - things might go horribly awry but... they also might go better than you ever dreamed of.

sagittarius: current high mutability is a blessing and a curse. you're so mutable yourself that in many ways it fits. on the other hand, anything you try to make stable and sturdy this time is likely to refuse to cooperate. just be as flexible and flowing as you can.

capricorn: mars in cancer is making many aspects all week, amidst a powerful lunar eclipse period. this creates a tense environment for you and yet that tension can certainly lead to a constructive decision or act (or several). take action, but avoid impulsivity.

aquarius: prominently featured this week are your resources, money, inheritances, and the taboo. this is an important time to see the sacred in the mundane, and even in the profane! be open to positive change even if it seems that things are sort of in shambles. and don't spend any more money, time, or energy than you absolutely critically need to. this is not a time to be doing excessive favors.

pisces: a lunar eclipse in your sign is of course the first order of business. this occurs over your self/others axis, so relationships and your self image and self concept are in the spotlight. or it might feel more like being an ant under a magnifying glass? at any rate, this is not all there is. so get your rest where you can get it. don't skimp on sleep, nutrition, or self care.

[fuckyeahmarxismleninism]

Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine:

The Zionist Aggression Against Iran is a New Crime and Part of the Colonial Aggression Against the Peoples of the Region

The Popular Front affirms that the zionist aggression against Iran is a new crime and part of a comprehensive colonial aggression against the peoples of the region. It expresses full solidarity with Iran, its people, and its leadership, and supports Iran’s full right to self-defense and to hold the zionist entity accountable.

The Front stresses that this aggression, conducted in coordination with the United States, has failed to achieve its objectives. It confirms that Iran has solidified its presence and stance as a deterrent to the criminal enemy in defense of its people and the region’s peoples.

War criminal Netanyahu sought to launch this aggression and then amplify its results to satisfy the zionist public and to display power by expanding his crimes in the region. This comes especially after the occupation and its allies admitted their failure to weaken the factions of the resistance axis, while Iran continues its supportive stance for resistance in Gaza and Lebanon.

This occupation relies on the blood of innocents and unarmed civilians in Gaza and southern Lebanon, trying to compensate for its real incapacity in maintaining deterrence amidst the new equations established by the resistance axis.

The Front believes that the colonial system understands that the quickest path to avoid a full-scale escalation in the region is to halt aggression on Gaza and Lebanon and to fully withdraw from the strip, in light of the zionist entity’s failure to break the will of the resistance factions that insist on continuing to support Gaza.

The Front reaffirms its full support for Iran and the resistance axis factions in the face of ongoing aggression and praises their constant readiness to respond to any aggression. It also renews its absolute trust in any decision they take in confronting the zionist occupation and any entity that supports it.

Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine

Central Media Bureau

26 October, 2024

https://t.me/PalestineResist/64865

[merbear25]

Hi, I've been having the biggest Hetalia brainrot ever...

Sooo, even if you aren't taking uh.. Recommendations or things, I just wanna swoosh this idea into your mind just incase you feel like writing Hetalia content...

Just a warning that this is like a reader x Hetalia post, so, just be warned.

The Allies or Axis are getting frisky with the reader.. And suddenly the reader like pushes them away and says 'We can't, I didn't shave.'

You get it? My brainrot? Yeah...

You don't have to write this I'm embarrassed to even request it it's stupid I know

Hello! No need to be embarrassed about sending this in. I don't mind in the slightest. I think we've all had these types of what ifs. I decided to put them on a scale since I personally can't see any of them really caring about extra hair. I hope you like what I've written for you. 💜💜

CW: highly suggestive, gn!reader, fluff, headcanons/scenarios

Remains confident

France: Whether or not you shaved wouldn’t make a difference to him. He adored you either way. Showering you with compliments and affection was a given, but it was amplified when you lacked confidence. Besides, this could lead to a more intimate setting. If you let him, he’d like to do it for you.

Italy: He wasn’t sure what the big deal was. The two of you had already seen each other’s bodies, so how would a bit of extra hair change anything? He reassured you, telling you how beautiful you were and laid soft kisses on you to help ease your embarrassment.

Russia: A twinge of protectiveness came over him when he saw your flushed cheeks. Smiling at you sweetly, he went to hold you. He whispered how lovely you were and that such trivial things wouldn’t change how he saw you. Light touches and soft kisses accompanied his kind words.

America: Blinking at you, he kind of cocked his head. He wondered where this shyness was coming from but didn’t want to rock the boat by asking about it. There was a lot of reassurance that he didn’t care and that you were desirable either way.

China: Not having realized something like that would make you so cautious to proceed, he was kind of taken aback. He didn’t see a reason to be put off by something as natural as body hair, but your reluctance made him feel oddly nervous. Explaining to you how none of that should matter was all he could really think of to help ease your worries.

Germany: He couldn’t care less about you not having shaved. There were countless times when he wasn’t exactly trimmed and “ready” for you, but your embarrassment was making it hard to convince you and had him second guessing himself.

England: He was easy to fluster and when he felt like he was the one to have brought on this discomfort, he felt just a bit ashamed of himself. Wanting to soothe your worries, he gently rubbed your leg and called you pet names as he tried his hardest to make you feel better.

Canada: A hue spread across his face and he hesitated. There was a soft apology for having accidentally embarrassed you. He wanted to be close to you though, so he cuddled you and told you how lovely you were in hopes of easing your self-conscious woes.

Japan: Your flushed expression made him recoil and immediately apologize. He didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Even if he didn’t mind the extra hair, your discomfort spread to him, meaning he was more inclined to wait patiently until you decided you were ready for him..

Your embarrassment wears off on them

[lets-talk-gundam]

The PMX-003 The-O

With the Titans gaining power and influence in Earth-sphere through the 0080s, they began seeking out individuals of renown to fill their ranks. One of the most notable of these figures was known by the moniker "The Man from Jupiter". This man, Paptimus Sirocco, was a gifted strategist, pilot, and mobile suit designer.

His development of the PMX-000 Messala caught the attention of Admiral Jamitov Hymen, who insisted that he be recruited into the organization.

Working under the Titans, Sirocco personally developed a number of mobile suits, the third of which would be used as his personal unit, and the machine for which he is most well known for designing.

The-O is a large, heavily armed and armored machine, standing at an oppressive 28.4 meters in height. Its bulky appearance is deceptive, however, as it is covered in maneuvering thrusters. Having been personally designed by Paptimus Sirocco for his own use, it is specialized to take advantage of his precognitive abilities. Due to this, it is nearly impossible for anyone else to pilot.

The unit also had a number of unconventional features, including a pair of sub-arms hidden in the front skirt armor and a Biosensor system. A development of the Psycommu system, the Biosensor condensed and amplified this technology, allowing for use of mind-guided weaponry, and enhancing the mobile suit's capabilities.

Seeing deployment toward the end of the Gryps conflict, Sirocco was able to stand toe-to-toe with Axis Zeon's Qubeley, as well as the AEUG's Zeta Gundam, along with destroying a number of mass-produced units over the course of the battle. The-O was only disabled with the death of its pilot at the hands of AEUG ace pilot Kamille Bidan.

The-O was also built with a sister unit, the PMX-004 Titania. The Titania was intended to be used by the woman who Sirocco would install as Earth-sphere's Queen following the completion of his coup d'état. A candidate was never selected.

Paptimus Sirocco also designed the AGX-11 Over.on, based closely on The-O. The machine was only completed after his death, and was piloted by Mashiro Oaks. The machine featured removable "chobham" armor that closely resembles the original machine.

Casval rem Deikun's Neo Zeon movement made use of several machines based on The-O, as former Zeon scientists who worked on the design joined the faction as it grew to prominence. These machines were the PMX-003 The-O II, the PMX-005 Breda, and the PMS-007 Jaguar.

The-O was originally designed by Makoto Kobayashi and Kazumi Fujita for the 1985 anime Mobile Suit Zeta Gundam. The unit has seen several alternate interpretations over the years.

This unit was a request from a friend! Requests are always welcome!