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phoebosacerales · 2 years ago

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Mars, Scorpio and Aries

Mars with sword and shield, an angel above, looking heavenward. Translation: "Mars - It appears between Jupiter and the Sun. The main house is Scorpio, the lesser main house is Aries". Engraving by N. Dorigny, 1695, after Raphael, 1516.

This post was supposed to be an answer to an anon's ask, but I decided to make it a post, because it was getting long. They expressed confusion about the opposition between Scorpio and Taurus and the similarities between Mars and Scorpio, because they find it easy to see the stereotypical martial qualities in Aries, but not Scorpio. I suppose Scorpio is one of the most confusing signs to understand these days because of how distorted the information got, after modern astrology tried to make Pluto its ruler. The dismissal of Mars from Scorpio, and the association of Pluto, is even more distorting when you consider that Scorpio has always been considered the main house of Mars. This is one of the biggest issues with the modern transaturnian planets as rulers, they take the meanings of the traditional planets, which already had taken care of all the symbolism, but now they are made empty, or at least kinda mediocre. Manilius told us that "the Scorpion presides over arms" (Manilius, Astronomica, 1st century AD, book 4, p.253) and it has a lot more to do with war than Aries. Aries is a point of equilibrium because it marks an equinox, it is when life triumphs over death and it carries solar meanings very strongly, as much as martial ones. The equinoxes are not about the actual time of war, although Aries can show a glorification of war, or rebellion, a fighting spirit. All Aries I know are political militants. But it has a lot to do as well with work, sacrifice, purpose, breakthroughs and pioneering; and on its more solar side it's about the victory of light over darkness, renewel, reason, the intellect¹ and spirit. Of course it's still a hot place and it's still a brutish sign, and yes, the wrong Aries can very much enjoy fascism. But Scorpio doesn't stay behind on the martial significations at all, at least in traditional astrology.

“By virtue of his tail armed with its powerful sting, wherewith, when conducting the Sun’s chariot through his sign, he cleaves the soil and sows seed in the furrow, the Scorpion creates natures ardent for war and active service, and a spirit which rejoices in plenteous bloodshed and in carnage more than in plunder. Why, these men spend even peace under arms: they fill the glades and scour the woods; they wage fierce warfare now against man, now against beast, and now they sell their persons to provide the spectacle of death and to perish in the arena, when, warfare in abeyance, they each find themselves foes to attack. There are those, too, who enjoy mock-fights and jousts in arms (such is their love of fighting) and devote their leisure to the study of war and every pursuit which arises from the art of war.” (Manilius, Astronomica, 1st century AD, p.239-240)

The most basic opposition between Scorpio and Taurus is that one is the height of autumn and the other is the height of spring. This already says a lot, because Scorpio then will have to do with death, and that's also indicated by the Moon's fall there. Taurus exalts the Moon, while Scorpio depresses it.² The Moon, as the closest body to Earth is associated with the goddess Fortuna and represents materiality, organic life. While her exaltation in Taurus is a representation of prosperous life, a healthy body, flowers blooming, the earth giving its fruits etc, her humiliation in Scorpio is a straight foward representation of death, organic deterioration, decay, that's why we see Scorpio ruling the excretory organs, and Taurus the neck, through which we consume our fresh food. Scorpio rules the residue and dead things we don't want. When things rotten they get toxic, so naturally Scorpio rules toxic substances in general, venom is just one of them. The fall of the Moon also suggests sickness, any kind of injury to the body and ill health, and Mars causes "pestilance" according to probably all the hellenistic astrologers, it's no wonder that he rejoices in the 6th house.

It is true that Scorpios deal with taboo or underworldly stuff, but not because it's ruled by Pluto, but because of its rulership over everything that gets discarded, hidden, or it's undesirable, disgusting. Interestingly, the mesopotamian god associated with the planet Mars was Nergal, who was a god of war and disease, but also of the underworld. The book Babylonian star-lore by Gavin White is an amazing book that's been on my whishlist for the longest time which adresses this, but it's very pricy. Fortunately, excerpts from the book are available on the website skyscript (at the end of the page) as short articles for each of the constellations. In the Scorpio one, he talks about how Scorpio was a war sign:

"In astrology the fortunes of war can be predicted by comparing the ideal time of the Scorpion’s rising – in month 8 – to the actual time of its first appearance: ‘The Scorpion rises in month 8: If this star rises early: the king will go about proudly; he will subdue his enemies. If this star rises late: the kings of all lands will start hostilities against the king’. When warlike planets such as Mars are present in the Scorpion the forecast is predictably dire: ‘If Nergal (Mars) stands in the Scorpion: a strong enemy will carry off the land; Enlil will give his weapons to the enemy; a few enemy troops will defeat my numerous troops’. One of the worst predictions in the whole corpus of celestial omens must be: ‘If the Plough (Mars) [notice the plough as a Mars object] comes close to the Scorpion: the ruler will die by the sting of a scorpion’."

It's also interesting to me how he talks about the association of the scorpion to the seeding season and Manilius shortly described this in the first citation as well. After all, this is the natural process of autumn, while the leaves fall, everything dies and all organic matter rot on the ground, what remains is manure, and the seeds that will generate new life. Agrippa tells us that the seeds are "fiery because of their generative spirit" (Three Books of Occult Philosophy, Book 1 chapter 7. Eric Purdue's translation). I would say they're ruled by Mars because they come from death and deterioration and they're a tiny container for life after death. Manilius talks more about the seeding aspect of Scorpio:

“When the Scorpion uplifts the stars which shine at the end of its tail, the man then born with the blessing of the planets will enrich the world with cities and, with robes hitched up and driving a team of oxen, will trace the circuit of the walls with curved plough; else he will level the cities which have been erected and turn towns back into fields, and produce ripe corn where houses stood. Such will be his worth and such the power which is joined thereto” (Manilius, Astronomica, 1st century AD, p.267)

This shows the more introspective nature of Scorpio, the way this is about building a strong defense, a strong prospect for life, instead of attacking forcibly, living fearlessly and sprinting towards life. Interestinly, he also does the opposite, he's a builder and a destroyer.

Aries on the other hand starts spring. "Spring" is a Mars word, it's a sudden jump upward or forward, a sudden appearance. Everything in Aries is about that, you could say, the cardinal fire of the strike of the match. It's what the Sun does at the spring equinox, it crosses a line and starts winning over darkness, slowly becoming stronger. All the animals suddenly get out of their hiding to enjoy the season.

As Gavin White points out, the Ram in babylonian astrology was the "Hired Man", but that's a little ambiguous because of the translation, it could possibly mean both:

"At face value, the Hired Man represents the ‘hireling’, an agricultural worker employed to bring in the springtime barley harvest. But with a little scholarly latitude, the name can also be understood as the ‘sheep of appeasement’. The two-fold significance of the Hired Man relies on the identity of man and sheep, which is neatly expressed in the cuneiform writing system where the two different signs used to write ‘man’ and ‘sheep’, can both be pronounced as “lu”. This pun appears to be entirely purposeful, as it expresses the dual nature of the constellation – to signify the barley harvester and the first-born lamb of spring (a similar duality of farming and herding symbolism is also found in the lore surrounding the Bull of Heaven)."

It's like the result of the seed sown during Scorpio season: new life is born. But it's also a sacrificial animal, here we see a little lamb, or a free worker, and not a violent ram or a warrior. Although all Aries stories involve heroism in a very classical masculine manner (a lot of times very *fascist aesthetic vibes*, Joseph Campbell indeed was an Aries through and through), because Aries starts the Sun's journey through the zodiac, the supposed "masculine"³ principle. Aries are fearless, militants and strong willed, but it's just the start, a spark, a little lamb, a promise of a strong ram.

In Mesopotamia, Dumuzi was the god associated with the Hired Man. Dumuzi has humble origins as a human and a shepherd, and he becomes king and then a god of shepherds and agriculture associated with plant-growth, which happens rapidly in the spring just like the continuous growth of the ram's fleece. One important thing about Dumuzi is that he's Inanna's consort and has an important role in her story about her descent into the underworld. She sends Dumuzi to the underworld in the end after finding him enjoying a lavish life on her throne, instead of mourning her while she was down there. This plays on the dynamic of the seasons and of the Sun with Venus, which is Inanna. And we can tie Aries and Scorpio lore with this story, as Dumuzi has to go to the realm of the underworld for the other half of the year.

Dumuzi is "the spirit of life" and he knows his destiny is death, he even tries to escape it, and he can't, but just like the Sun he triumphs over darkness again and again, always reborn in the spring as the new lamb. Life always wins death.

Manilius also writes beautifully about Aries in a way that reminds me of these meanings. I really like the way he reminds us of Athena as patroness of Aries and of her weaving work. Weaving is always closely linked to the weaving of destiny, mainly seen in the symbolism of the Moirai:

“The Ram, who is rich with an abundance of fleecy wool and, when shorn of this, with a fresh supply, will ever cherish hopes; he will rise from the sudden shipwreck of his affairs to abundant wealth only to meet with a fall, and his desires will lead him to disaster; he will yield his produce for the common benefit, the fleece which by a thousand crafts gives birth to different forms of gain, now workers pile into heaps the undressed wool, now card it, now draw it into a tenuous thread, now weave the threads to form webs, and now they buy and sell for gain garments of every kind; no nation could dispense with these, even without indulgence in luxury. So important is this work that Pallas herself has claimed it for her own hands, of which she has judged it worthy, and deems her victory over Arachne a token of her greatness. These are the callings and allied crafts that the Ram will decree for those born under his sign: in an anxious breast he will fashion a diffident heart that ever yearns to commend itself by its own praise. (Astronomica, Manilius, 1st century AD, book 4, p.233)

"When the Ram emerges above the surface of the waves and the curve of his neck appears before his horns, he will give birth to hearts that are never content with what is theirs; he will engender minds bent on plunder and will banish all sense of shame: such is their desire for venture. Even thus does the ram himself rush forth with lowered horns, resolved to win or die. Not for them the gentle ease of a fixed abode with none but peaceful cares; it is ever their delight to travel through unknown cities, to explore uncharted seas, and enjoy the whole world’s hospitality. The Ram himself gives you evidence of this: once furrowing a trail through the glassy sea, he tinged it with the gold of his fleece, when on his back he carried Phrixus, bereft of his sister by fate’s decree, and brought him to the banks of the Phasis and to Colchis”. (Astronomica, Manilius, 1st century AD, book 4, p.263)

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¹ We forget how intellectual the solar signs are. The opposition of Aries and Libra is even funnily seen in philosophy, among Enlightment thinkers (like Descartes, Spinoza, Kant) and their most severe critics (such as Nietzsche, Foucault, Feyerabend), for example. The Sun represents the intellect and rationalism, but the Scales put everything in question.

² But it's interesting how Taurus doesn't depress anyone and Scorpio doesn't exalt anyone. All the other signs where a planet is exalted, another planet will have its fall there. I don't remember which of the ancient astrologers justified this (someone please tell me if you know), but they say something along the lines of wherever Fortune is exalted nothing can fail and wherever Fortune is humiliated, nothing can prosper.

³ I put that in quotes because those traits have been traditionally assigned to a sex and a gender, but I don't believe in that kind of categorization of humans and planets.

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nebuloracle · 4 days ago

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Entangled Across Worlds

Hamal’s thoughts tangled with unnamed emotions, each one pulling him in a different direction. This field he found himself in was a momentary sanctuary, where he could escape the suffocating weight on his chest, even if only a little. Here, the worries of Mimi’s cryptic concern, Arcturus’s unannounced intrusions, and the chilling embrace of the mysterious woman in his dreams seemed distant. The insects chirped and sang Hamal into a deep sense of comfort. The chilling breeze wicked away his warmth, but he found solace in the warm topsoil beneath him. This field was the only place where he could pretend to be alone. Deep down, however, he knew solitude was a fleeting luxury. Tonight, throughout the vastness of space, even that would be denied to him. Not even a contented sigh could escape his lips before the voice of her returned.

“I haven't told you my name,” she said with terse apology, her tone clipped yet sincere. Her words brushed against his thoughts like a gentle solar wind over a tiny moon, "You can call me Ascella."

Now, that was a name Hamal was familiar with. He couldn’t remember where he’d heard it, though. He’d much, much rather she leave him alone, however. Hamal had hoped to use the moment of peace to sort out his feelings. This would only be another distraction—but why not?—he chose to humor it. Hamal’s brow clenched, thoughts racing, trying to piece together the identity of the specter that this mysterious voice seemed to be connected to.

“You know, that name rings a bell, actually,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “If you're really some kind of magical star-girl, then wouldn’t that mean some crazy astronomer dude discovered you the day you were born? I guess you wouldn’t know, being from space and all.”

The two held in silence for a moment. Hamal could feel the moisture of the grass he laid upon. From parts unknown to him, Ascella looked down upon a shimmering blue gem in the heavens, hiding herself from the unfiltered radiance of Sol. Ascella's mind hastened at the mention of a ‘crazy astronomer’ and its potential meaning. The thought of her moving one step closer to her father enticed her. Hamal could serve more purpose than being a person to get along with, but she hesitated to dig deeper. Ascella had learned not to raid someone's thoughts, even if it was easy to do so. There was no guarantee he had the truth in that head of his, and even if he did, getting it could be an irredeemable act in his eyes. Besides, it’s a big planet, to the tiny folk at least. Hamal could have been speaking of anyone.

“You’ve… heard of me?” Ascella asked, her voice quiet but insistent. She had to clarify, “That doesn’t make sense. Please clarify: do you mean Ascella from Sagittarius? Or perhaps one of the Acellus stars from Cancer?”

Hamal shrugged, an awkward gesture she could feel through his thoughts. “I don’t know. Isn’t Ascella the name of that new star? The one that appeared… like twenty years ago?”

Her mind raced, though she kept her tone steady. "Oh, yes," she said, the words tumbling out faster than she intended. "That is my star."

“That’s crazy. So Ascella is the girl I’m talking to, and also a star in space light-years away, and they’re one and the same?”

“That’s correct.”

“How is that even possible? Okay so what does this star in proportion to you? Do you think with a brain or with the star? Does it, like, send data into your head like cosmic wi-fi? How are you not having a huge identity crisis over this?”

“It’s not something I’d bother explaining. I wouldn’t expect you to understand. The perspective of earthbound beings is...”

“Careful, space angel.” Hamal said, his voice breaking the ambient silence. He was grateful no one was around to see him snapping his words at voices in his head. The words came out louder and drier than intended, but he didn’t regret it. His body relaxed once again, but his mind remained sharp, “Earthbound or not, don’t blame me just ‘cause you can’t explain things.”

The thought resonated, a declaration not just to Ascella but to himself. He wasn’t to be trifled with—human or not. He’d spent too long convincing himself he was a normal guy like everyone else, that nothing was wrong with him. He’d all but accepted that both those things weren’t true.

Ascella hesitated, the force of Hamal’s mind hitting hers with the raw intensity of a solar flare. She sifted through the explosion of referential thoughts bombarding her, not invading but catching enough glimpses to feel the weight of who—or rather what—he truly was. The conclusion struck her like a slap to the face. From thousands of miles away, Ascella held her hands over her mouth. “You’re the Hamal of Aries.” She could sense Hamal's sudden vulnerability; a raw, unguarded moment of defenselessness where his deepest truths emerged unfettered. "You're aware," she whispered, more to herself than to him. It wasn’t a question, but a statement of cosmic revelation.

Hamal stiffened, every nerve in his body going taut. The air felt sharper, colder. There was nothing to fight nearby. And even if he felt like hurting something, deep down, he knew Ascella wasn’t really his enemy. “Don’t,” he said, his voice low, dangerous. His thoughts, jagged and raw, raised walls between them like armor forged from memory and fear. “Don’t poke around where I don’t want you.”

But the truth was already out, shimmering like starlight in the space between them. Neither of them could deny it now: Hamal wasn’t just another human. He was like Ascella, a star walking in mortal form. Hamal was a celestial.

“So… what now?” Hamal finally spoke up, breaking the tense quiet between them.

“I don’t know,” Ascella admitted with a sigh. “I’ve never met another celestial like me before, one with a human parent.”

“Well, I don’t really know any either,” Hamal chuckled humorlessly. “I’ve spent most of my life trying to convince myself that I was just like everyone else.”

“You’re not alone in that feeling,” Ascella said.

Silence hung for far too long. To Hamal, anything would be better than sitting and talking about his problems, so he sharpened his gaze to the sky, raised a finger, and began tracing imaginary lines between constellations. The gesture sent a ripple of anxiety through Ascella.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice trembling despite her effort to sound composed.

"I just got wondering, where’s your star?" Hamal said, his tone casual, oblivious to the weight of his actions. "So now I’m looking for it. I’m no expert, but I used to stargaze a lot with some friends back in high school. I think I can figure out where Cancer is from here if I find Polaris…" That star was aimed really high from his perspective, or so Hamal had guessed.

“Y-you’re what?” Ascella’s chest tightened. She wanted to stop him, to say it didn’t matter. Hamal had made it clear in the past that he wasn't the best candidate for this act of courtship, but the words caught in her throat. Did he even realize? Every shift of his hand felt like a thread pulling tighter around her, tugging at insecurities she couldn't untangle. She feared the vulnerability that would come from Hamal’s actions. He’d just asked her to not dig around, yet now chose to turn around and stare at her star? This made no sense, yet felt as if it checked out. If her father really was crazy, like Hamal may have offhandedly called him, then wouldn’t this align all too well?

"Why are you doing this?" she asked suddenly, her voice sharp. For a moment, Hamal hesitated, lowering his hand slightly. Her question had reached him, tugged at something just beneath his surface. Why was he doing this? Was it just to move the subject away from himself and his problems?

"Because I can," he muttered, side-eyeing the grass.

“That’s… sweet? That’s unlike you. No, forget I said that. Really, you don’t have to do all of this. I’d rather you not.”

“Well too bad,” Hamal says, “Stars are public domain. I’m gonna finger that star if it—let me stop myself right there. This one you?" He pointed to a star at random.

"No!" Her voice barked in his mind. "That’s Betelgeuse! You can't possibly think I'm that old."

Hamal snorted. "Fine. You’re picky for someone who doesn’t want me looking."

Betelgeuse. Now that was a handy clue; it meant Hamal was staring at Orion. Taurus should be somewhere to the right of Orion if that was the case, and above the loose cluster of stars that made up Orion’s club would be Gemini. If he could trace out the twins, he’d find their heads—and Pollux… Cancer wouldn’t be far away. Hamal continued scanning, brushing off Ascella’s protests as he narrowed his search. Ascella swallowed her unease. She couldn’t tell what the right thing to do was anymore. It wouldn’t make her a good friend to force him to stop. But as she let him search, her mother’s words echoed in her mind: “When a human finds your star, they’ve found your soul.”

She could still see Acubens’s glowing form, her voice reverent, speaking of the sacred bond she forged with a human in an instant. “When he found me,” her mother had said, “the entanglement was immediate. His devotion was overwhelming, but we wanted the same thing, and so his convictions called me to him. Through this, I learned what it meant to be a goddess—distant, divine, and irreplaceable." These words lingered in Ascella’s mind, shaping her own conflicting feelings about being found. Could she bear to be understood so intimately, not just for her brilliance but for the shadows within? The idea alone excited her, but its implications were still frightening.

Acubens’s words had been fervent, almost worshipful. To Ascella, they had felt intoxicating yet dissonant. Being discovered wasn’t just an encounter but a claiming—intimate and cosmic. Her mother hadn’t cherished the mortal’s love for its tenderness but for its totality. Ascella had imagined this moment going differently for her. Ascella simply wanted friendship, not love or worship. Hamal wanted… What did Hamal want here? Ascella wanted to find out, but Hamal wasn’t one to talk about his desires. Instead, he’d just hunt them down on his own until they were his. Ascella’s stomach fluttered at the thought. Maybe this really was meant to be.

And yet, Hamal, oblivious to the implications, continued his search. Each shift of his hand sent her pulse aflare, pulling her closer to the edge of something terrifyingly profound. From Gemini, it took a bit of guesswork, but he made his way to Cancer. From the middle, Acellus Australis and Acellus Borealis, just like Ascella had mentioned, were not her. In this direction were two of the legs of the crab. Hamal had forgotten their names, but they weren’t very memorable. On the opposite end were Altarf and Acubens, the other two legs on the constellation, which meant this bright star that has no business here was…

Then he stopped. His hand froze midair, and in the span of a heartbeat, their world narrowed to a single point of light. A thought rippled through the connection, unbidden and undeniable. It was his. It was hers. It was theirs together: "Found it."

Ascella gasped. For a moment, she felt their connection snap taut, a thread binding them across the cosmos. It wasn’t just her star he had found. It was her.

The sensation consumed them both, overwhelming every sense as their thoughts mutually eclipsed one another. Their minds brushed against each other, revealing glimpses of their innermost selves. They felt exposed, vulnerable, and exhilarated all at once, connected in a way they’d never felt with anyone before. It was a spinning rush of explosive release, as if the duality of their minds had approached an inescapable threshold, where they could both share in a distinct oneness. It didn’t feel like they needed to hold back anymore. And then, just as suddenly as the connection was established, the sensation evaporated into nothingness, before either of them could get acquainted with each other’s inner souls.

Hamal lowered his arm, blinking as he tried to process what had happened. "What was that?" he asked, his voice quiet, dwarfed by the magnitude of the moment they’d shared.

Ascella struggled for words, her mind spinning. It happened. She didn’t want it to, but that crazy Aries went and stared into her soul anyways. What did it mean for them? She only knew one way to react.

“Unbelievable,” she whispered, masking her turmoil with a teasing lilt. "That was—wow. Did you feel that? Like everything just… clicked for a second? You’re so forward, Hamal! Insisting to stare into my star like that… I don’t know what to say. "

"What?" Hamal blinked at her, uncomprehending. "I was just looking for a star. I didn’t…" He trailed off, unsure how to respond.

But Ascella wasn’t listening. Her thoughts raced between her mother’s warnings and the undeniable thrill of what had just happened. As fear warred with excitement, she forced herself to double down, her tone wavering but light. "You can't deny what we both felt. That was cosmic entanglement, and you’d better take responsibility for it," she said, crossing her arms and projecting what she hoped was mock indignation.

Hamal stared at her like she’d grown a second head. "Take responsibility? For what?"

"We share a special bond now. You’ve found my star. You've graced the purity of my soul with your eyes."

Hamal snorted, shaking his head. "You’re joking, right?"

Ascella bristled. "No. This is serious! My mother said—uh—when a human devotes themselves to finding a celestial’s star, that’s love! It—it has to be! It's cosmic law! You’ve entangled yourself with me."

“Wait, stars have laws? You’re making this up as you go, aren’t you?”

“Okay, maybe I don’t know all the rules, but it felt important, and my parents felt this too. There’s a precedent! Doesn’t that mean something?”

"So you have one example. Does that mean your parents are experts in this?" Hamal asks.

Ascella’s lips parted, but no sound came. The accusation hung in the air, sharp and unyielding. Her gaze faltered, drifting away from the earth as she scavenged her memories once again. The truth was as glaring as the starlight around them: she didn’t know. Not for certain. “I mean…” she started, then faltered. “It’s what my mother told me. And… she wouldn’t just fabricate meaning from something so important.”

Hamal rolled his eyes. "I'm gonna stop you there, before you have an aneurysm—or a solar flare, or something. I wasn’t devoting myself to anything. I thought looking for a star might move things closer to a “see you later.” And anyways, I'm not just some human, now am I? I'm the brightest star in Aries, and you're the brightest in Cancer. Let's not pretend like we have to follow our parents' every word. We'll get along better that way."

Ascella tried to clap back, but words wouldn't manifest out of her feelings. This cut deep, and she had to spend time reflecting on what had just happened between them. Another long silence lingered. Ascella looked up to her mother, and really thought the wisdom she imparted would help her for a moment like this, but Hamal seemed intent on breaking all convention she was taught. She didn't want to stay and take this. She didn't have to. But all that stood at the end of this conversation was a long and lonely stroll through lunar regolith, like most days.

"Fine. If that's how you truly feel," Ascella said, her surgical tone returning, "then you'll receive just what you've wanted. When the full moon reaches its apogee, if you've had enough of your 'space,' do consider reaching out again."

Then, it went silent. Hamal let out a heavy sigh. Her words lingered in his mind, alongside the strange, electric sensation of finding her star—of finding her. He didn’t know what to make of it, and a part of him didn’t want to. It was easier to chalk it up to another one of those bizarre celestial phenomena he wasn’t ready to face head-on. Yet, he couldn’t shake the nagging thought that maybe Ascella had a point, that maybe there was something more to all of this.

From the skies overhead, Hamal could see a shooting star. Its pale blue glow streaked across the sky to the eastern horizon, leaving a long tail that quickly dispersed. Hamal got up to watch it zoom by, fascinated by its beauty. It looked like it was almost headed straight for the moon.

#OotZ #Hamal #Ascella #Writing #Astrology #Asronomy #space aesthetic #if i dont publish this now I'll keep working on this one scene forever

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