#saturn stark

[askthecafecow]

Things are happening in the cafe...

Tune into The Cafe on Saturday, February 10th, at 3 pm CST to find out what happened.

[professional-benaddict]

(based on true events but i had to change some parts HDIDJSJ GOT A LITTLE PERSONAL BUT HERE WE ARE!)

time will tell. 5 years of friendship, although their time has ended, one of them can't move on. it's been months since their separation, they were really great friends. to the point that their separation was questioned by almost everyone that knew them.

"what happened?" "do you know what happened?" "somebody talked awfully about you to him." "he's probably tired of you."

in his well pressed suit, with the school graduation gown on top of his suit, entering the hall for the graduation ceremony, anthony edward stark is presented as a high intelligent student of his school. awarded with certificates and medals, he has said his speech.

but, this year's speech was different. tony, or anthony has a thing for mentioning his best friend: peter parker, and inviting him to come up on stage. this time he didn't do that. his class were surprised to not see the two 'friends' not interact or talk about each other. and peter... was simply relaxed, he and tony ended their friendship in a questionable matter, not even the two of them know if anything between them is alright.

it was peter's turn to come up on stage and be handed of his award. as he makes his way to the mic and say his speech:

"i, peter parker, a student of this school, is happily graduating with a smile on my face. time will tell, on how much i loved every single moment of it, being here —"with you. " as peter added in his mind, referring to tony.— in this school, i have created memories —"of us." again, peter's head having voices whisper back at him.— of learning, memories of relationships, memories of tribulations and successes. i am thankful to this very day, for all of you —"especially you, stark."— and for all days of my time being here.

again, time shall tell, on how much i loved every single moment of it, being here... with you."

as the following attendees applause, the class, especially tony, was confused. what did his former friend meant by the last line he said? but they all applauded anyway, and regardless of the somewhat questionable sounding statement.

as peter goes off the stage, the tension between him and tony was intense. it even became more intense knowing that he and tony had to sit next to each other as their surnames are next to each other as well.

and it gets wild, whispers here and there, the awkward silence between the two, professors suddenly wondering what's going on. and back again, with the two former friends just feeling really intense.

after the event ended, tony realises that the last line was for him, and that peter's last text, exactly about months before their friendship ended, exactly reads as the words peter said in his speech.

-🪐

[donnatroyprincessofthemyscira]

[kraviolis]

I would say respectfully that the reason Bazzas has that narrative is because it’s that literally how the streamer is playing it. He sees the relationship as toxic and manipulative and has been saying it for weeks. There’s many clips of this. Even to the point of saying it’s incredibly unhealthy for Barry for them to be interacting in the state he’s in and it’s a bad decision for the character. So obviously they see his perspective. Just food for thought

yeah yeah i just find it funny im not like trying to roast anyone. its just crazy to me as someone who watches several different perspectives to get the full picture vs. everyone who sticks to a single streamer.

i used to stick to one nopixel streamer for like the first month i started watching and when i started hopping around streams it fucking blew my mind how wrong i was about my perception of every other character. especially because the one character i was watching was fucking james randal. like i genuinely had no idea that eugene's real name was zuckerberg and that he wasnt a doctor until i popped into a vader stream in december.

[starlitsilver]

our fucking water got shut off

[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: Who You'll Be In 10 Years

☣︎ "“The only limit to our realization of tomorrow will be our doubts of today.” – Franklin D. Roosevelt

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is a gender-neutral reading, change any pronouns to apply to you. Also, the tense changes from past to present to future, I hope this doesn't make the reading difficult.

Also! Thank you so much to everyone who put in a paid reading request, when my life stabilizes, those will be on the top of my priority list. <3

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

⚠︎ Pile One ⚠︎ (5oS rev., 5oP, 8oS)

You a decade from now (or less 👀) is not afraid to walk away from a motherfucker. Kudos to you!!! POP A BOTTLE. REJOICE! 🍾🍾

You have mastered prioritizing yourself and letting go of connections that violate your boundaries.  

I’m getting cat energy. Your self-concept is resolute, so you don’t care about others' perception of you. You’re willing to be seen as the “bitch” or selfish in situations because you refuse to become someone you’re not, to please another. 

Your young self would consider this a nightmare. Your upbringing has groomed you to put the interests and needs of others before your own. Disharmony and people disliking you cause you so much inner turmoil (I want to throw up channeling this energy, I’m getting it makes you physically ill) that you try to avoid those dark emotions by suppressing your own needs and desires to keep the group happy.

Being subservient and sacrificing parts of you became a survival tactic. It was so deeply ingrained in your self-concept; you desperately wanted to detach from it but feared hurting anyone or being seen as selfish in the process. 

This hesitancy to step on a few toes, which is an inherent requirement for elevating your own voice, gives you an illusion of being trapped and powerless against the will of others.

But baby… you ten years from now don't have time for the bullshit.

The energy here is refined; a quiet strength forged in darkness. This was not always your energy, you have some battle scars due to people-pleasing and learning the hard way that you can never satiate hunger in people who can never be full. 

This pile has seen their fair share of energy demons. I meant to write “vampires” but demons came out, this could be about energetic attacks (commonly manifesting as anxious thoughts and mental blocks that did not occur before you met them) and jealous energies around you that benefitted from you thinking less of yourself.

It took you some time to find the power in your “No” and staunchly protect it. There have been times when people have disrespected your no and remained in your energy for longer than they deserved to. That’s okay, forgive yourself. I promise it’s all a part of a greater journey for you to reclaim your power. 

The energy you call home ten years from now is a force to be reckoned with. The first card flip gave me chills, I was intimidated at first. 

You are becoming someone whom the world makes space for. By walking away from people who want to continuously fight and provoke you or drain your resources and energy, you are telling life, “I won’t put up with people who are trying to convince me to be the backseat passenger of my own life.”

You won’t feel like a suffering supporting character anymore, you’ll be the main character people are in awe of. 

Aries Northnode, Saturn, Pluto, Chiron 1st house, Mars or moon 7th house, Libra risings, Libra Mars, Libra Moon, Cancer Saturn, Cancer Mars, 6th house placements. 

Your dominant colors will be black, white, and grey. For my colorful folk, you’ll stay bright and eccentric but have stark contrasts of black either with your accessories, hair, or makeup (if you do it). Regardless of your height, you’ll appear taller with perfect posture. Your collarbone/shoulder area is accentuated and eye-catching. Your head is held high and your neck acts as your lion’s mane. 

Your words reverberate in the consciousness of others, you are unforgettable and your impact changes the course of the lives you interact with. You speak clearly (and at times bluntly), making your boundaries and identity unequivocal. Your voice deepens and honies with time, you are like a violin luring people to your cause. People will most compliment you on your aura and intimidating, yet magnetic presence.

I really want to emphasize the dark appearance here, it’s the classic dark feminine aesthetic with a mystical-witchy flair. I even see big hats, high boots, and round or oval glasses for some. 

The strength you cultivate is admirable and is your magnum opus. Keep creating your dream you, my love! MUAH 💋

A Vixen Born in the Shadows

⚠︎ Pile Two ⚠︎ (The Hermit, 4oW, Ace of Cups)

Ex-Factor by Ms. Lauryn Hill came on, the Angels aren’t playing. Sit down, I’m about to talk your ear off (lovingly <3)

Baby, you’ve been put through the emotional wringer. Mostly in your interpersonal connections and romantic relationships.

You’ve had a cycle of emotionally immature karmic partners that were meant to reflect the insecurities within you that blocked healthy unions from forming. You subconsciously did not feel worthy of a loving partner so you settled for people who were unable to love you more than their own self-interests. Most of your old connections were made through trauma bonds and fear of abandonment. 

(For some, I’m getting that your partners threatened to harm themselves or you threatened to harm yourself in case of a breakup)

Most people can’t relate to your depth. You crave a raw, soul-merging connection that can withstand you at your lowest, most difficult energy. There were moments when you either glorified or begrudgingly allowed “struggle love” because you believed that fighting, heartbreak, and being misunderstood were all a part of the “ride or die” package.

I’m giving a lil forehead kiss to my Scorpios and 8th Housers. And a winky wink to the Rohini and Jyeshta natives in the back. 

However, I’m getting a tinge of envy here. You believed that “kinks” (emotional abuse) in the relationship were natural and happened in every relationship, but when you saw couples online or in your environment, they seemed a lot healthier than yours. 

You weren’t in a clear headspace, so instead of realizing that your partner dynamic is unhealthy and harming you mentally and emotionally, you internalized it and bore the fault on your shoulders. Oh, those people have healthy relationships because they’re better than me and more attractive, I need to be better.

Listen to me when I say this, your love and devotion are worth more than struggle love, and toxic cycles. The best thing you could have done for yourself is exit these relationships stage left, IMMEDIATELY. 

And guess what Pile 2 in 10 years is doing??? EXITING THE MF STAGE AND ENTERING RELATIONSHIPS THAT SERVE THEM! YURR!

If you are currently in this cycle and fear that you aren’t capable of change and healthier connections, trust me you boss up and tell those doubts to shut the fuck up.

Love, you complete all the hard healing. You go through long periods of solitude, introspection, therapy, forgiveness (of yourself), and learning to be your own soul partner and it pays off!!! YOU turn into the one giving self-love and healthy relationship advice.

You’ve been through the ugly and the beautiful and know the trials of the self-hate to forgiveness journey like no other. You could have significant Jupiter placements, you got the guru card. The young grasshopper turns into the wise crane.

If you have dark circles under your eyes, your body language is sluggish, and you just look like life is whooping your ass, a decade from now you will look like… do you know those pictures of those really gorgeous cows?

Like??? Please tell me you get where I’m coming from. You’ll look well-nourished, taken care of, plump (explained briefly), and sitting pretty in your energy of known worth and inner fulfillment.

In Vedic astrology (I’m explaining this very plainly), Rohini natives represent the people whose life path is to obtain inner security and believe everything they desire can be birthed from the resources that come from them (plump). Their opposite, Jyestha represents inner emptiness and insecurity and the insatiable desire to fill that hole (hollow). 

Your hole is filled (pause) and you have turned your insecurities into strengths (which is very Jyesthan). This is confidence that can’t be faked or imitated and it’s beyond your wildest dreams. It’s well deserved! You birthed your ideal self-concept all by yourself, and that is no easy feat.

Maybe you have been jaded and swore off marriage, but “bad” news babe you’re marrying someone who adores, respects, and treats you like the soft, yet powerful force you are. 

You are very fucking happy, I’ve been cheesing and cracking jokes this entire reading. You are going to live a joyous, easygoing life full of reciprocal love and admiration. 

Physically, I’m not getting anything specific besides the clear image that you will look visibly abundant. A bright smile from ear to ear, cheek creases from happiness, clear skin, watery eyes, and you’ll smell like a rich bitch (that was a random message but it felt important).

I’ll close off with a tweet that I have been thinking about since the first card flip,

MUAH 💋

Her Heart is a Blossom of Flowers

⚠︎ Pile Three ⚠︎ (The Tower, 6oP, 10oC)

Staring at the blank page before you

Open up the dirty window

Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance

So close you can almost taste it

Release your inhibitions

FEEELLL THE RAAAINNN ON YOOOUURRR SKIIINNNNNN\!!!

Babe, you escaped from somewhere. Ran like the wind to your freedom. Similar to Pile One and a bit of Pile Two, you were enslaved to energies that were draining you. However, this energy is more restrictive. Some people had their autonomy stripped away and others had to sacrifice their desires for another’s sake.

I’m sensing a wound in how you perceive yourself, your skills, and your capabilities. The way you express yourself through your passions, your style, and how you speak feels restricted out of fear and overly controlled. A buried piece of you yearns for expression and attention, which you are well deserving of and more than capable of gaining fame for. Fear and anxiety had deluded you into thinking they were more powerful than you.

Yea, that shit is dead 10 years from now. LMAO. 

If you have big traveling plans or wish to permanently pack up and move to your dream location, it's happening. Have no doubt, you will not be stuck where you are forever. 

You were experiencing a debilitating mental feedback loop of wanting to live your life the way you desire and then halting those desires to help others. Buuuutttt, at some point from when you’re reading this to ten years from now, deception will be revealed to you and you’ll realize the people you are sacrificing your dreams for are undeserving of it. 

This will wake you up, breaking the loop and invigorating you to take the reigns of your own life because you’ll know that you can’t stop your motion so others don’t feel left behind.

You’ll reclaim your power over self-doubt and anxiety by choosing faith over fear. Faith in your ability to improve the skills you love and to strive for your dreams even if it scares you. With every fear you face, you’ll realize just how strong you are and get a rush from proving your old self wrong. All the things you believed you couldn’t do, you’re now breezing through and showing the public how its done.

Capricorns, Sagittarius, 2nd and 3rd housers (chiron counts), are getting a special shoutout here.

You will be recognized and adored. You are a star, through and through. Whatever empire you build will be so abundant that you will still be able to help people, but not at the expense of your own success.

Your biggest lesson is learning that you cannot help yourself or anyone for that matter if you are inhibitious and your own biggest naysayer. What do you gain from believing you can’t do something? Not a damn thing. Just frustration and regret. Start affirming that you can become everything you want to be until that self-concept replaces your thought patterns. You are a magnificent being capable of change and there is nothing between you and the life you want to live but your beliefs. 

You feel so complete and whole ten years from now. You literally got the ten of cups AND the completion-360 oracle. It must be emphasized that the life behind the veil of fear is one of prosperity, abundance, and unwavering joy. Just go for it, my love! You cannot lose. You only lose if you stay where you are (which you won’t). 

Puff your chest out with pride and tell those bitchass fears and doubts to go play with gnats their own size. They don’t want to fight a big dawg like you, pookie 😩😩.

In ten years, I’m getting an office-vixen aesthetic or business chic. Women will always have heels on and men will always find an occasion to wear dress shoes that boost their height a bit. Tight pencil skirts. Suits. Blazers. Capes. Watches. Trench Coats. All that jazz.

MUAH💋

Fear Crumbles at The Feet of A Bad Bitch

⚠︎ Pile Four ⚠︎ (Ace of Wands, The Hermit, 5oW)

Initial Impression: In ten years, you are not afraid to whoop somebody’s ass. I Bet U Won’t by LeVel and Mouse on da track started playing. 

I’m sensing tense home energy here. You did not have to do much to be blamed or antagonized for something. You were treated like a black sheep, scapegoated, abused, and expected to take it. If you lashed out in defense, your attackers would take that as an opportunity to paint you as aggressive, a difficult child, or “unsafe”. This could’ve been with friendships too. 

My heart is racing right now, in the middle of channeling, a helicopter flew over the neighborhood and told everyone to lock all their entrances and stay inside. I feel like you have spent a huge chunk of your life on edge? Your environment prevented you from safely regulating your nerves and you were never able to feel comfortable anywhere. If your home was not explicitly violent, there was mental warfare that prevented your home from ever feeling like home.  

Half the people in this pile experienced the opposite. Everyone else in the house was constantly fighting and belligerent and you stayed meek, quiet, and in your room to create some sense of safety.

For some, it's a mix of both. 

Any power that could have been used to stand up or protect yourself was diffused by parental figures or fake friends. The global lockdown was especially difficult for you and trapped you within the tension of the house. For others, I see that this hermit phase lasted beyond the pandemic and maybe even prior. 

This is the only pile where I know the transition is happening before the 10-year mark. With all of this fire and solar plexus energy, one day (soon) you will be sparked with the bravery to become your own hero. 

You’re removing yourself from a toxic environment and you’re going out SWINGING. Windmilling, even!

That’s not to say that this is all on a whim and impulsive. Oh no no no. You are calculated and pushing forward with careful preparation and a solid plan. If you want to move out, you’ll have the place planned out, your transportation, your food for the next 6 months, and a job lined up.

If this is simply about pursuing your dreams in an environment that wants to squash them, you’re moving in silence and getting all of your ducks in a row so when the time comes, you can chuck the deuces up and never see those people again.

(if you feel guilty about wanting to cut off family members, don't. You must feel confident in the decision to prioritize your health and safety.)

YOU’RE ‘BOUT BIG MF BUSINESS.

In a world where you have never known peace, you will be creating a life of harmony and ease for yourself, and you have every right to be proud of that. That is a generational weight that you let go of, your spirit team and ancestors celebrate your strength and vitality. 

You got some crazy repetition with my Oracle deck. You got “Golden Gift”, “Golden Retriever”, the cards fell in a white-orange color pattern, and you have all this wand (fire) energy. You are a firing supernova, the flame within is what will pioneer you to victory. 

This is another tale for the ages—your story will be told far and wide, inspiring boys and girls who dream of a savior to become their own saving grace.

You’ll definitely have a long-lasting red hair phase or you’ll have an affinity for the colors red and gold in ten years. 

You’ll be healthily competitive. You will have an established workout regimen and do at least one recreational active hobby (soccer, hiking, MMA and swimming were of note). You’ll even be competitive at karaoke night.  

There are some bodybuilders in this collective. If you’re a woman and want to lift but fear looking “bulky”, you’ll overcome it and fall in love with your muscular physique. There is an accentuation of your butt, shoulders, back, and abs. You’ll look physically imposing and command respect and attention, but welcoming to all. I see children running to your side for safety. 

Go and be great my lil firecracker!! MUAH 💋

God's Golden Gift is a Brave Woman

[ophelias-lamentation]

Your braids like a pattern, love you to the moon and to saturn

Lady Catelyn Stark braiding her daughters hair.

If this ends up on anti-Sansa or anti-Catelyn tumblr I’m throwing hands

[ma-yawntu]

mine, all mine. ii.

chapter two: paradise

pairing: neteyam x female!metkayina!reader

summary: As a punishment, your parents decided you and your siblings would have to teach the forest Na'vi the way of water; you weren't sure why he got under your skin so much.

word count: 4.0k

warnings: mentions of a blade, parental scolding, one swear, idk it's cute, NO USE OF Y/N

now playing... saturn by sza

chapter one

“I am here!” The attention of the entire Metkayina clan seemed to snap to the source of the declaration, Neteyam and his family doing the same. The crowd parted for you, a telltale sign of the status you held in the clan. You were clearly the oldest child of the Tsahik and the Olo’eyktan, the spitting image of your mother and sister. But there was something different about you; the way you held yourself and took every step with such certainty. You were intimidating, not as much as your terrifying mother, but just from looking at you, Neteyam could tell you weren’t to be pissed off.

And it was at this point that Neteyam was so utterly sure he had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. Sure, there were a lot of pretty Omatikayan girls, but he was always so preoccupied with learning to plan hunting parties and raids that he never had time for any of that stuff– not that he was ever really interested in the first place, but you– you were the picture of beauty. You were soaking wet, your hair a total mess but honestly, it fit you. He peered around his father to get a better look at you, trying to be subtle about it. You had delicate intricate tattoos similar to your mother’s on both of your ribs, disappearing beneath the woven and beaded material of your top. 

Lo’ak caught his brother’s staring, trying to suppress a grin as he followed his brother’s gaze to you. The two brothers clearly had a type. Lo’ak let out a small laugh, hiding it with a harsh intake of breath through his nose. Neteyam looked at his brother with an unimpressed expression, swatting his arm to get him to shut up and behave. His tail swished behind him anxiously as you peered at him and his family curiously, studying the unique appearance of the forest Na’vi. 

Neteyam found he couldn’t take his eyes off you, watching the gentle sway of your tail in rhythm with your hips as you walked. Your hair dried remarkably fast, small ringlets of hair framing your face from where they fell out of your messy braids. The stark contrast between you and your sister was staggering. Your sister was so well-kept, her braids looking as if they were redone regularly while the rest of her hair was out in perfect curls down her back. 

But you; you had a freedom about you, your hair was loose and curly with messy and loose braids keeping the hair out of your face. Small pearl beads and coloured twine were braided through your hair, and you seemed so carefree and fun. Neteyam felt his eyes unable to let you go, fascinated by your mere presence. He felt somewhat excited knowing you were going to be teaching them how to be reef Na’vi– well, you and your siblings.

“Mother,” you greeted, bowing your head as you always did when you greeted your parents. You moved further into the healing marui, becoming acutely aware of your mother’s stern gaze upon you. Tsireya trailed behind you and you prayed your mother wouldn’t send her away to tear you a new one about your disappearance off the island. 

“Tsireya,” Ronal said sternly. The two of you felt your shoulders stiffen, ears pinning back at your mother’s commanding voice and presence. Tsireya let out a nervous breath, giving your mother a tight-lipped smile.

Tsireya turned to look at Ronal, knowing what was coming. “Mother?”

“I wish to speak with your sister.” That was enough said for Tsireya to nod her head, give you an apologetic smile and scamper out of the healing marui. Ronal waited for her youngest child to leave before she dropped the healing salve she was working on and gave you a stern look. 

“Mother, I–” you started with a shake of your head.

Your mother held up her hand, “you do not speak,” she raised her voice. You curled in on yourself, bowing your head in shame– though you were more upset that you had been caught. “Where were you this morning? What keeps your attention so occupied that you disappear? Ignore your duties as the tsakarem?”

“I was hunting outside the reef,” you quickly said, your voice meek under your mother’s intense gaze. While going outside the reef wasn’t exactly forbidden, it was only meant for hunting parties and experienced hunters– not the daughter of the Tsahik and Olo’eyktan. 

Your mother didn’t seem to believe you, her harsh glare boring into you as you stared at the ground, fiddling with your fingers as your tail swished anxiously. She stared at you for a moment longer before shaking her head with a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose as she turned her back to you. You raised your head, watching your mother pace. 

“You will teach those forest children our ways, ‘ite,” your mother said authoritatively. “Every morning; I expect you to be punctual.”

You wanted to protest, mornings training with Teyoa were the one thing you looked forward to, a reprieve from the endless duties you were plagued by. But now your mornings would be occupied by the forest Na’vi and their childlike abilities when it came to living among the reef Na’vi. “Mother–” 

“I have spoken,” she interrupted, her voice slightly raised as she spun to look at you. You knew better than to argue with your mother. Your father was a little softer than her; he was always weak for his daughters and you were able to sway him occasionally. But your mother, she was a force to be reckoned with and you undoubtedly got your rebellion from her. You wanted to make your parents proud, live up to their expectations and be the perfect daughter– but you held so much passion and fire inside you with nowhere to go. You wanted to hunt, be a warrior, provide for and protect the clan. But your parents did not see that. They did not see you. 

“Can I go?” You muttered, eyes glancing at anything but your mother as you bit the inside of your cheek, trying to stifle yourself. Ronal sighed, closing her eyes for a moment before she looked at you again, nodding her head toward the opening of the marui. 

You didn’t stay a second longer, making your way out as you tried to breathe through your anger. It was not the Sully’s fault for seeking uturu, but you did not want to be a babysitter to their four children– that hardly seemed fair. You brushed past the opening of the marui, your eyes almost instantly rolling when you saw your brother Ao’nung and his friends.

“In trouble again, sister?” Ao’nung teased with an amused grin.

“Being a nuisance again, little brother?” You questioned, your shoulder knocking with his as you pushed past him, going nowhere in particular just away from him. When you were younger, your brother used to be somewhat of a crybaby– always sticking to your mother’s side and pestering you, his big sister, to play with him, braid his hair or hold his hand. Now that he was grown; become a man– he was a pain in your ass at the best of times, always sticking his nose in your business. 

“You know,” Ao’nung started, following behind you with Roxto and his other friends on his tail.

Here we go, you thought, rolling your eyes once again. Your brother liked to pick a fight and bicker with other young Metkayina. He never picked on your little sister, she was soft and sweet, but you and your brother shared the similarity of being competitive, always picking on each other. 

“I have always wondered what else you manage to get away with,” he teased with a laugh. “Considering you’re always disappearing and blatantly lying to our parents who are–” he turned to his friends, “–none the wiser!”

You spun on your heel quickly, “must you pester me? Surely you could be doing something more productive with your time instead of talking out of your ass,” you replied sternly, giving him an unimpressed and slightly annoyed glare. Your brother stayed quiet for a moment and you gave him a sarcastic smile, “thought so.”

You began to walk away when your brother yelled an insult from behind you, “skxawng!”

“Vonvä!” You yelled back just as childishly, turning a few heads. 

You found yourself on the secluded part of the beach, having retrieved your heavy bow from its hiding place beneath the rocks in the reef. You sat in the sand, carving the details of your spirit sister’s tattoos into the wood of your bow. Teyoa always told you warriors made their weapons their own– and you thought what better to make it your own than the tattoos of your spirit sister Nanti. You had studied her markings so many times during her visits that you could easily picture them in your mind. 

“What are you doing?” You almost lept out of your skin at the sound of a child’s voice. Her voice was high and she began to giggle when you jumped in surprise. You turned to face her– it was the youngest forest Na’vi– Tuk was her name. How did she find you? Who was letting her wander this far away from the village?

“Should you not be with your family?” You questioned with a grin, knowing you were equally as curious at her age. Tuk shrugged, her tail swaying behind her as she walked down the beach, taking a seat beside you to look at your bow. 

“A bow!” She beamed, “I didn’t know reef people use bows,” Tuk said, looking up at you curiously. 

“They don’t,” you replied before bringing your finger to press to your lips, “it’s a secret,” you whispered.

“Oh, I’m good at keeping secrets,” Tuk replied with a stern nod. 

“Well, that is very good to know,” you said with a smile, continuing to carve small details into the wood with your worn blade. Tuk watched you with curious golden eyes, her tail tapping against the wet sand. You carved one more small detail into the edge, refining the design before holding it up for the two of you to inspect. “What do you think, Tuk?”

“I like it!” the little Na’vi smiled, her toothy grin making your heart swell. You may be hard-headed and rebellious at times but you were always notably good with children– the little Metkayina children were always drawn to you, adorning your hair in handmade beads, giving you bracelets and braiding your hair messily whenever you went to visit the children learning to weave or prepare food. 

“What are you doing all the way out here, little Tuk?” You asked again, peering at the girl with a curious eye. 

“I wanted to explore,” Tuk replied, drawing with her finger in the sand. 

“Well, you better keep this place a secret, too. I don’t want anybody else knowing about it,” you said softly, “but I like you, so you can stay.”

Tuk beamed at your words before nodding her head with a smile, “I won’t tell anyone!” She drew a cross over her heart. You gave her a questioning look and she quickly explained, “my dad said it means to promise.”

“How strange,” you giggled.

“My dad used to be one of the Sky People, you know,” Tuk said, “he says a lot of funny stuff.”

You had heard the stories of the man who became a Na’vi, born of the Sky People but learned the ways of the people. The same man who was Toruk Makto– the very story you were obsessed with as a child. You stood up from the sand, picking your bow up before reaching your hand out toward Tuk.

“Come,” you said softly, “your family may start to worry.”

Tuk stood up, wiping the sand off her legs before grabbing your hand, happily skipping along beside you as you guided her through the mangroves back toward the village. You stashed your bow in the nook of a tree, Tuk talking your ear off the whole journey back. You let her ramble on, finding it endearing how she felt comfortable enough to talk to you. She talked about her life back in the forest and how much she missed it already, she talked about her journey across the sea and about her family’s ikrans. You happily hummed along, replying enthusiastically with your own stories and comments. 

Tuk asked you a lot of questions about your clan as her little fingers toyed with the songcord wrapped around your wrist. She asked you about the different beads you had earned, the most recent earned from passing your Iknimaya and getting your first tattoos. She also asked you about the meaning of your tattoos, telling you how much she admired them, which you thought was adorable. 

“Did they hurt?” she asked curiously.

“I didn’t think so. Though, many of the men say they are very painful,” you replied with a small laugh.

Just as you arrived on the outskirts of the village, you saw Tuk’s oldest brother Neteyam frantically looking around as he called for his sister, “Tuk! Tuk, this isn’t funny!” You hadn’t heard him speak until that moment, he had a slight accent to his voice, probably due to the differing dialects between the forest and reef Na’vi. 

“I told you you would worry your family, little Tuk,” you said matter-of-factly, Tuk’s hand still squeezing your own.

“I just wanted to look around, Neteyam always gets so worried,” she sighed, pulling you toward the edge of the mangrove forest. Neteyam spun around at the sound of leaves and branches rustling, relief flooding his body at the sight of his little sister. But he soon felt his shoulders tense again at the sight of you. You seemed to move in slow motion as you moved some of your hair over your shoulder, glancing down at Tuk with a gentle smile. 

“Tuk,” he sighed with relief, quickly walking toward his sister and crouching down in front of her to inspect her for injuries.

“I’m fiiiine,” Tuk whined as Neteyam pulled on her arms, spinning her around to inspect her back and arms. Tuk swatted at her brother and you covered your mouth as you laughed, the scene reminding you of you and your siblings when you were younger.

Neteyam’s golden eyes looked up at you as you laughed softly, the sound like wonderful music to his ears. He found that his eyes were lingering on you for a little too long and he quickly stood up, clearing his throat, “thank you for finding my sister.”

“He speaks,” you teased, tilting your head at him. 

Neteyam let out a huff of a laugh, “I apologise,” he said.

“Only teasing, forest boy,” you smiled teasingly before turning your attention back to Tuk, crouching down to her eye level. “Now, little Tuk, don’t go wandering off again,” you grabbed her hand gently and she listened to you intently, “remember to keep our little secret place to yourself,” you whispered, but you knew Neteyam heard you. 

“Promise,” Tuk whispered back with a little nod.

You stood back up, glancing at Neteyam for a moment before brushing past him to return to the village, leaving him to revel in the scent of your hair. It smelled like sweet fruits and sea water, a perfect mix in his opinion. 

“Why are you staring at her?” Tuk asked comically loud, staring between you and her brother. You heard her words and laughed to yourself, peering over your shoulder at Neteyam who seemed utterly embarrassed by being caught and called out by his kid sister.

“Thanks for that, Tuk,” he replied with a sigh, quickly grabbing her hand and pulling her back toward their family’s marui. 

Being beneath the water was always where you felt most as home. Though it was fitting you felt that way considering your entire body was designed to thrive in the water. You enjoyed the silence and solitude of being beneath the waves, curious eyes exploring the reef and gathering shells and various plants for your mother’s salves. You worked quickly to gather plants into your woven bag, various creatures brushing past your arms and legs as you worked. 

The sound of the surface breaking above you caught your ear and you turned to see your sister waving at you happily as she swam toward you, Ao’nung and Roxto not far behind her. You moved the sash of your woven bag over your shoulder, quickly signing at your sister.

‘Teaching the forest Na’vi?’ you signed, your eyes glancing toward the surface where the three siblings treaded water in a rather unorthodox way. You peered back and watched as Kiri swam around happily watching the creatures in the reef.

‘You must join us, sister,’ Tsireya signed back. You frowned at her, shaking your head. She gave you a pleading look, ‘you are a good teacher.’

‘I don’t want to babysit,’ you signed.

‘They are trying,’ Tsireya frowned at your words, signing back quickly.

You looked up at them for a moment, noticing how all of them had their heads underwater, watching you sign with your sister. Your eyes moved to Tuk who quickly waved at you. You let some bubbles out of your mouth, the little pockets of air bobbing to the surface, ‘fine.’

Tsireya smiled happily, squeezing your hand tightly before she began swimming to the surface. You watched as Roxto and Ao’nung signed to each other, making fun of the forest Na’vi’s diving abilities. You rolled your eyes at them before following your sister to the surface.

“You guys are too fast, wait for us!” Tuk whined, rubbing her eyes. You tilted your head at the little Na’vi resting your hand on her shoulder.

“It is okay, Tuk. We will go slow,” you smiled, moving one of her braids out of her face. Ao’nung and Roxto suddenly surfaced behind you.

“You guys are not good divers,” Ao’nung snickered, “may be good at swinging through trees but–”

You quickly swatted the back of your brother’s head, splashing him in the process as Roxto laughed, “you would be wise to shut your mouth, brother.” Ao’nung made a face at you, rolling his eyes.

“We don’t speak this–” Neteyam vaguely gestured with his hands, “–finger talk. We don’t know what you’re saying.”

Tsireya looked at you for a moment, “we will teach you, won’t we?” She looked at you again with a pleading smile.

You sighed and rolled your eyes, “yes, we will teach you,” you nodded. “But first, if you want to swim with us, you must learn to do it properly.”

“We are swimming properly,” Lo’ak replied.

You chuckled softly, “I wouldn’t call flailing your arms about like that, swimming,” you replied. “Move with the water, use your arms like this–” you motioned with your hands as the three Sully siblings listened intently. 

“Come,” Tsireya smiled, “we will move slow.”

You spent most of the afternoon showing the siblings how to swim, Tuk occasionally reaching for your hand so you could swing her forward through the water, the little Na’vi finding so much joy in speeding so fast through the water. You watched as Neteyam seemed to find it a little harder to adjust to swimming, finding it more frustrating than anything. 

You sympathised with them, understanding it must be hard to adjust to a new environment which their bodies were not adapted to. Tsireya swam with Lo’ak slowing down so he could keep up with her and you felt a responsibility to check on Neteyam.

“Are you alright?” You asked, surfacing just behind Neteyam. He turned to look at you, seeming slightly tired from all the swimming you had been doing. 

“I’m fine,” he replied with a sigh, “I just can’t seem to get the breathing part.”

“It’s okay,” you said, sort of hating how genuine you sounded to your own ears, “I will show you.”

“We breathe from here,” you pressed your hands flat against your chest and stomach, sitting in front of Neteyam. He watched you closely as you showed him how to breathe, your sister and Roxto showing Kiri and Lo’ak not far from you. Tsireya watched you teach Neteyam one on one, grinning softly to herself which you quickly rolled your eyes to. 

You glanced at Neteyam but he was already looking at you, his golden eyes were rather beautiful you thought, though you would never tell a soul. You cleared your throat and he quickly snapped back to reality, “sorry, sorry.”

“From here,” you repeated, taking in a deep breath to fill your chest and stomach, “in and out.”

He did the same, fixing his posture to copy your actions. He wasn’t able to take in as much air as you, but it was a good start.

“You must slow your heart,” you said softly, “focus on your breath.”

“Right,” Neteyam muttered. You scooted forward slightly, reaching your hands out to press on Neteyam’s stomach and chest.

“Breathe in,” you breathed in with him before nodding your head, “and out.” You noticed his heart beating rapidly under your palm, a smile pulling at your lips, “Neteyam, your heart is fast. You must focus, try to slow it down.”

“Yeah, right…” Neteyam quickly nodded at your words, “I’m sorry.” He was so glad there was no one else around to hear what you said, feeling slightly embarrassed that he’d been caught.

Okay, maybe your sister was on to something. He was a little cute. 

“I want you to keep practising,” you said, pulling your hands off his body, “you must learn to breathe if you want to keep up with us.”

“Right,” he muttered before he looked at you curiously “...will you still be teaching us?”

You tried to suppress a smile, “yes, it’s my punishment.”

“Punishment?” Neteyam asked curiously, “we can’t be that bad.”

You laughed softly, “It is not like that, forest boy,” you stood up, brushing some of your hair over your shoulders as you walked back toward the village. 

“Well, what did you do to earn such a punishment?” Neteyam asked, running to catch up with you, almost slipping on the wet rocks. 

“You like to ask questions,” you said.

“Just curious about you is all,” Neteyam shrugged.

“About me?” You turned to him with a curious look. You noticed how Neteyam towered over you, so did your brother but Neteyam staggeringly so. You thought it must be because forest Na’vi were lean and tall by nature. 

“Is that not allowed?” He asked, trying to suppress a grin as he tilted his head at you.

You watched him for a moment, wondering if you should toy with him or tell the truth, you decided the former would be more fun. “I was sneaking out,” you said with a shrug before turning on your heel, making your way back toward the village.

“Sneaking out? What for?” He asked through a chuckle. 

“I think that’s enough information for now,” you replied.

“But I wish to know more about you,” Neteyam called behind you, struggling to keep up with you. You had walked across these slippery rocks more times than you could count– Neteyam not so much. “Oh, shit!” 

You heard a loud splash, whipping your head around to see that Neteyam had disappeared from behind you and slipped into the water, a mass of bubbles indicating where he had fallen. You stood for a moment, waiting for him to surface.

“Neteyam?” You called. No answer. Oh, no. “Neteyam!”

You quickly dove into the water, bubbles of air forming around you as you whipped your head around, looking for him. You swam down toward the reef, thinking he had hit his head and was sinking toward the bottom. You had fear written all over your face before you saw him, slowly swimming toward the surface. You let out a noise of annoyance before quickly rising to the surface.

“You scared me!” You scolded, splashing him with water as he laughed. 

“Those rocks are slippery,” Neteyam simply said.

“I thought you hurt yourself,” you frowned.

“And you came in to save me?” he grinned.

You stared at him with an unimpressed expression for a moment, “don’t flatter yourself.”

Neteyam could only laugh in response as you pulled yourself out of the water and back onto the rocks.

a/n: hope you like this one! let me know if you want me to continue with these two :)

[luckshmi]

Purva Bhadrapada | World Wanderer

Purva Bhadrapada, unfolds a cosmic dance that intertwines mythology, symbolism, and the mysteries of the universe. Governed by the celestial forces of Saturn and Jupiter, this Nakshatra is home to the enigmatic deity Aja Ekapada, often associated with the awe-inspiring form of Lord Shiva as Nataraja. This article delves into the profound symbolism embedded in Purva Bhadrapada, connecting the dance of creation and destruction with elements ranging from Hindu mythology to modern physics, exploring the dualities of existence and the spiritual journey

Nataraja - The Cosmic Dancer

In the ethereal realm of divine dance, Nataraja, the one cosmic manifestation of Lord Shiva, continues to unfold a mesmerizing tapestry that captures the essence of creation, destruction, and the cyclical nature of existence. This celestial dance, a sublime choreography known as Pralaya, resonates with profound symbolism that transcends the boundaries of mythology, offering a timeless allegory for the eternal transformation of energy in the cosmic order.

The untamed locks of Lord Shiva, a visual manifestation of asceticism, stand in stark contrast to his role as a householder. This duality encapsulates the multifaceted nature of Shiva, symbolizing his ability to seamlessly oscillate between the transcendent and the worldly. The unruly hair, flowing freely as he dances, represents a rejection of societal norms, an embodiment of the ascetic spirit that eschews material attachments while actively participating in the cosmic drama

The sacred Ganges, coursing through the tangled strands of Shiva's hair, assumes a pivotal role in the cosmic dance. Its descent from the heavens to Earth is not merely a celestial event but a symbolic act guided and protected by Shiva. This divine intervention not only breaks the fall of the sacred river but also alludes to the interplay between the celestial and terrestrial realms. The Ganges, now residing in Nataraja's locks, becomes a potent symbol of purity, spirituality, and the interconnectedness of the cosmic forces.

The crescent moon, delicately placed in Shiva's matted hair, holds profound significance in the cosmic ballet. Its waxing and waning influences Kama Dev, the god of nightly love, breathing life into the changing seasons that govern the universe. The rhythmic dance of Nataraja, guided by the lunar phases, symbolizes the perpetual cycle of birth, growth, decay, and regeneration. In this celestial choreography, Shiva orchestrates the cosmic symphony, ensuring the harmonious flow of life's eternal dance.

At the heart of Nataraja's dance is Pralaya, the cosmic dissolution that marks the end of an existing order. This transformative phase emphasizes the impermanence of the material world and the continuous cycle of creation and annihilation. As Shiva engages in the rhythmic dance, the universe dissolves into him, highlighting the profound truth that energy can neither be created nor destroyed; it only undergoes perpetual metamorphosis.

In Shiva's hand, the damaru, an hourglass-shaped drum, reverberates with a rhythmic beat that echoes the cosmic pulse. This incessant sound symbolizes the ceaseless recreation of the universe. The damaru's beats resonate with the vibrations that underpin the fabric of reality, creating a cosmic harmony that sustains the intricate dance of life, death, and rebirth.

The serpent coiled around Nataraja's arms in the cosmic dance further amplifies the symbolism within Purva Bhadrapada. The serpent, often a symbol of primal energy and kundalini, signifies the power over deadly creatures and echoes the transmigration of human souls. As the serpent sheds its skin, symbolizing rebirth, it mirrors the cyclical nature of existence, reinforcing the idea that life is an ever-evolving journey of transformation and renewal.

As Nataraja's cosmic dance unfolds, the symbolism embedded in each gesture and element becomes a profound meditation on the nature of existence.

Aja Ekapada

In this sacred Nakshatra, the celestial dance of Lord Shiva takes on profound layers of symbolism, weaving an intricate tapestry that extends far beyond the cosmic dance of Nataraja. Aja Ekapada, the presiding deity of this Nakshatra, emerges as a symbolic powerhouse.

Described as a kind of Agni, Aja Ekapada embodies the transformative power of fire. The flames of Agni in Hindu tradition represent not only the destructive force but also the purifying and regenerative aspects. In the context of Purva Bhadrapada, this fiery essence takes on multifaceted roles, resonating with the rituals of funeral rites, the tumultuous energy of storms, and the mysterious realm of black magic and occult practices. Aja Ekapada, in its fiery form, becomes a symbol of transition, where the old dissolves to make way for the new.

Purva Bhadrapada intricately weaves together various elements, creating a complex narrative that bridges Hindu mythology with the intricacies of our physical and spiritual existence. The mention of spinal nerves, sacrificial altars, and guardians of goddesses adds layers of depth to this celestial story. The spinal nerves, conduits of electrical signals between the brain and the body, symbolize the interconnectedness of our physical and spiritual selves. The sacrificial altars evoke the idea of offering and surrender, essential elements in the journey of self-realization. Guardians of goddesses suggest protective forces that guide and shape our spiritual path.

The symbolism deepens with references to tiger skin, pillars, and the fiery red color. Tiger skin, traditionally associated with Lord Shiva, represents the conquest of fear and the taming of primal instincts. Pillars stand as symbols of support and stability, echoing the cosmic pillar of the universe upheld by Shiva in his dance. The fiery red color, reminiscent of Agni's flames, symbolizes the intensity of transformation and the dynamic energy inherent in Shiva's cosmic dance.

Science

The intersection of Vedic symbolism and modern scientific concepts unveils a captivating tapestry that bridges the ancient and the contemporary. This essay further explores the profound parallels between the cosmic dance of Nataraja and scientific phenomena like the Einstein-Rosen Bridge, the Higgs boson, and the cosmic dance of subatomic particles. The metaphorical connection crafted by Carl Sagan serves as a beacon, guiding us through the seamless integration of ancient wisdom with our evolving understanding of the cosmos

The Einstein-Rosen Bridge, often colloquially referred to as a wormhole, represents a hypothetical tunnel-like structure connecting two separate points in spacetime. In the dance of Nataraja, we find intriguing parallels with the concept of the cosmic dance of subatomic particles, where the rhythmic beat of Shiva's damaru symbolizes the underlying pulse of the universe and a bridge in space and time. The concept of a bridge that transcends the ordinary dimensions of space and time echoes the transcendental nature of Nataraja's dance, a cosmic ballet that extends beyond the boundaries of conventional understanding.

In Vedic symbolism, Nataraja's dance represents the eternal cycles of creation, preservation, and dissolution. The Einstein-Rosen Bridge, if ever realized, would serve as a cosmic conduit, allowing particles and perhaps even information to traverse vast cosmic distances instantaneously. The dance of Nataraja, likewise, serves as a bridge between the material and the spiritual, embodying the interconnectedness of all existence.

The Higgs boson, often dubbed the "God particle," is a subatomic particle that bestows mass upon other particles through the Higgs field. The Higgs boson, as a fundamental particle shaping the fabric of the universe, parallels Shiva's role in creating different seasons and rejuvenating life through the waxing and waning of the moon.

Nataraja's dance, representing the dissolution of the existing order and the eternal transformation of energy, aligns with the transformative nature of the Higgs boson. Both concepts speak to the fundamental aspects of existence, emphasizing the interconnectedness of particles and cosmic forces in shaping the universe's intricate dance.

The dance of subatomic particles, a mesmerizing ballet occurring at the quantum level, mirrors the celestial dance of Nataraja. As particles interact and exchange energy, creating a dynamic interplay, Shiva's dance resonates with the intricate choreography of the quantum realm. The damaru's rhythmic beat in Nataraja's hand finds its parallel in the pulsating nature of particles, creating waves and resonances that echo through the cosmos.

The concept of the cosmic dance of subatomic particles delves into the interconnectedness of all matter and energy, akin to the interconnected gestures and postures in Nataraja's dance. The dance becomes a metaphor for the underlying unity in the seemingly diverse and complex fabric of the universe, where every movement holds significance in the cosmic symphony.

Carl Sagan, a luminary in popularizing science, drew a metaphorical connection between the cosmic dance of Nataraja and the scientific understanding of the 'cosmic dance' of subatomic particles. Sagan's eloquent exploration aligns with the broader theme of the essay, highlighting the synergies between ancient wisdom and modern scientific inquiry. The metaphor invites us to contemplate the cosmic ballet on both macro and micro scales, emphasizing the unity that pervades the cosmos.

Sagan's metaphorical bridge between the dance of Shiva and the dance of particles serves as a testament to the enduring relevance of Vedic symbolism in contemporary scientific discourse. It prompts us to consider the possibility that the ancient seers, through their symbolic language, may have intuited truths about the nature of the universe that are only now being revealed through the lens of advanced scientific instruments and theories.

Mad Scientist Archetype

One intriguing facet of Purva Bhadrapada finds resonance with the archetypal figure of the 'Mad Scientist.' Delving into the layers of this Nakshatra, we discern how its inherent themes align with the characteristics commonly associated with the 'Mad Scientist' archetype.

Symbolized by the two-faced man, encapsulates the theme of duality. This duality is not merely a surface-level contrast but a profound exploration of contrasting energies coexisting within an individual. The 'Mad Scientist,' often portrayed as a genius teetering on the edge of sanity, mirrors this duality. The scientist's transformational experiments and unconventional pursuits underscore a journey into the realms of both brilliance and madness, akin to the cosmic dance of Purva Bhadrapada.

Aja Ekapada, embodies the fiery essence of unconventional thinking and innovation. The 'Mad Scientist,' driven by a relentless pursuit of knowledge and discovery, often defies societal norms and embraces uncharted territories in the pursuit of scientific breakthroughs. Purva Bhadrapada's influence fosters an environment where unconventional ideas are not only accepted but embraced as a means of unraveling hidden truths.

Purva Bhadrapada's connection with occult practices, black magic, and mystical realms draws parallels with the 'Mad Scientist's' often secretive and esoteric experiments. Both explore the boundaries of the known and the unknown, pushing the limits of human understanding. The Nakshatra's association with Aja Ekapada as a deity of funeral rites and storms aligns with the archetypal scientist's relentless pursuit of unlocking the mysteries of life and nature.

The 'Mad Scientist' archetype frequently grapples with the ethical implications of their experiments. Similarly, Purva Bhadrapada, with its two-faced symbolism, reflects the dual nature of morality. The Nakshatra challenges conventional notions of right and wrong, encouraging a deeper exploration of the shades of gray that exist in the pursuit of knowledge and power.

This Nakshatra's emphasis on transformation and the eternal dance of creation, preservation, and dissolution echoes the 'Mad Scientist's' quest to transform not only the world but themselves. The scientist's pursuit of knowledge often involves a personal transformation, blurring the lines between sanity and madness, mirroring the cyclical nature depicted in Purva Bhadrapada.

Purva Bhadrapada's connection with the sacrificial alter and its association with Aja Ekapada as a deity of storms and black magic aligns with the 'Mad Scientist's' often sacrificial commitment to their visionary pursuits. The archetype willingly sacrifices personal well-being and societal acceptance in their relentless pursuit of scientific knowledge, echoing the sacrificial undertones embedded in the Nakshatra's symbolism.

The enigmatic nexus between Purva Bhadrapada and the 'Mad Scientist' archetype unveils a shared terrain of duality, transformation, and unconventional exploration. Both embody a ceaseless dance between brilliance and madness, pushing the boundaries of human understanding.

In the realm of cinema, the portrayal of Robert De Niro (PBP Moon) and James McAvoy (PBP Ketu) in roles associated with the 'Mad Scientist' archetype serves as compelling examples of the enduring fascination with characters who delve into the boundaries of morality, creation, and the consequences of playing god. Robert De Niro's depiction as Frankenstein's monster in the film captures the essence of the 'Mad Scientist' archetype. Dr. Victor Frankenstein's relentless pursuit of scientific knowledge leads to the creation of a creature he seeks to destroy, only to face the repercussions of his actions as the monster returns with a thirst for revenge. The narrative unfolds the classic trope of a scientist grappling with the unintended consequences of tampering with the natural order.

Similarly, James McAvoy's portrayal in a film centered around Victor Frankenstein underscores the archetype's thematic complexity. In this iteration, Victor collaborates with Igor Strausman for groundbreaking research on immortality, a quest that propels them into the precarious realm of manipulating life and death. The narrative takes a horrific turn, reflecting the archetype's tendency to unleash forces beyond human control. Igor, recognizing the potential havoc, attempts to intervene, highlighting the ethical dilemmas that often accompany the 'Mad Scientist' as they tread on the thin line between scientific advancement and moral consequences. These cinematic portrayals stand as poignant reminders of the archetype's timeless allure, exploring the intricate dance between genius and the unforeseen repercussions of pushing the boundaries of scientific exploration.

Jekyll & Hyde Archetype

In the exploration of Purva Bhadrapada's deep symbolism reveals striking parallels with the dichotomy embodied by Dr Jekyll and his malevolent alter ego, Mr Hyde.

The central theme of Dr Jekyll & Mr Hyde mirrors Purva Bhadrapada—the duality within a single individual. This Nakshatra encapsulates the idea that within the human psyche, contrasting energies coexist, often in an intricate dance that blurs the lines between good and evil. Dr Jekyll's internal struggle with his dual nature reflects the nuanced exploration of light and shadow inherent in Purva Bhadrapada.

Both Purva Bhadrapada and the Dr Jekyll & Mr Hyde narrative revolve around the transformative power within. The Nakshatra's emphasis on creation, preservation, and dissolution aligns with Dr Jekyll's quest to transform his own nature. However, just as Purva Bhadrapada's dance entails a cycle of transformation, Dr Jekyll's experiments lead not only to his liberation but also to the release of the malevolent Mr Hyde, the embodiment of his darker impulses.

Purva Bhadrapada delves into the dual nature of morality, challenging conventional notions of right and wrong. Similarly, Dr Jekyll's experiment represents a bold foray into the blurred boundaries between societal morality and personal desires. The internal conflict faced by Dr Jekyll in resisting the temptations embodied by Mr Hyde echoes the Nakshatra's exploration of the fine line between righteousness and temptation.

The Nakshatra's association with Aja Ekapada, embodying fiery funeral rites and occult practices, parallels Dr Jekyll's unconventional scientific pursuits. Both delve into realms beyond the ordinary, challenging societal norms and exploring the mysteries that lie beneath the surface. The 'mad scientist' archetype, represented by Dr Jekyll in this context, aligns with Purva Bhadrapada's inclination toward unorthodox paths of knowledge.

There is a profound exploration of the consequences of unleashing inner demons. The malevolent aspects of the Nakshatra, symbolized by storms, black magic, and occult influences, find their counterpart in Mr Hyde's unrestrained malevolence. The collateral damage wrought by Dr Jekyll's experiments becomes a cautionary tale, underscoring the potential dangers of delving too deep into the mysteries of the self.

In the eternal cosmic dance symbolized by Purva Bhadrapada, we find echoes of Dr Jekyll's struggle, a timeless reminder that the exploration of one's depths is a venture fraught with both enlightenment and peril.

The cinematic landscape, adorned with diverse narratives, often unfolds tales that mirror the timeless archetype of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, encapsulating the nuanced exploration of dual personas within a single individual. In the Bollywood film "Chehre Pe Chehra," the enigmatic Rekha(PBP Moon) takes center stage in a narrative reminiscent of the classic duality of Dr Jekyll & Mr Hyde. The storyline unravels the complexities of human nature, unveiling the transformation of characters and the consequences of inner conflict.

Similarly, Michael Caine (PBP Sun), in a Victorian era setting, personifies the archetype in a cinematic rendition where scientific experiments into the dual nature of man yield a personality-splitting drug. His portrayal echoes the timeless struggle with the darker facets of the human psyche, bringing forth the uninhibited brute, Mr Hyde, who seeks violent and undignified pleasures. Caine's performance exemplifies the enduring allure of the Dr Jekyll & Mr Hyde archetype, showcasing the perpetual fascination with the exploration of contrasting elements within the human soul.

In a comedic twist, Eddie Murphy (PBP Mercury)'s character in a narrative involving genetics and self-experimentation provides a contemporary lens to the archetype. The transformation from an extremely overweight genetics professor to an obnoxious figure after experimenting with a slimming potion mirrors the transformative themes of the Dr Jekyll & Mr Hyde archetype. The narrative delves into the consequences of tampering with one's physical form, drawing parallels to the eternal struggle between light and shadow within.

Bipasha Basu (PBP Ketu)'s portrayal in a film called Alone, where an evil spirit seeks to wreak havoc in the life of Sanjana, with connotations of sibling rivalry and jealousy, bears semblance to the archetype. The dual personas within the character reflect the intricate dance between good and malevolent forces, akin to the timeless narrative of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.

In these cinematic examples, the Dr Jekyll & Mr Hyde archetype persists as a timeless and captivating theme, transcending genres and cultures. Each portrayal underscores the fascination with the internal struggle, the consequences of self-experimentation, and the perpetual dance between conflicting facets of the human psyche.

Fallen Angel Archetype

After delving into the layers of Purva Bhadrapada's symbolism unveils striking parallels with the poignant narrative of celestial beings descending from grace—a theme intrinsic to the fallen angel archetype.

Purva Bhadrapada, mirrors the fallen angel's descent from celestial realms into the complexities of earthly existence. This Nakshatra encapsulates the idea that within the celestial and divine, dualities coexist, often leading to a profound journey of self-discovery and transformation. The fallen angel archetype, speaks to the intricacies of navigating through contrasting energies and the challenges posed by the earthly realm.

The fallen angel archetype often involves a narrative of temptation and rebellion against the divine order. Similarly, Purva Bhadrapada's association with Aja Ekapada, embodying fiery funeral rites, storms, and occult practices, suggests a journey marked by the allure of forbidden knowledge and a departure from established norms. The Nakshatra's exploration of the boundaries between morality and temptation resonates with the theme of celestial beings succumbing to earthly desires in the fallen angel narrative.

In the fallen angel archetype, the descent is often accompanied by themes of sacrifice and the potential for redemption. Purva Bhadrapada's connection with the sacrificial alter and its association with a form of Rudra, storms and black magic aligns with the archetype's emphasis on sacrifice as a means of grappling with the consequences of the descent. The possibility of redemption, a recurring motif in the fallen angel narrative, echoes the Nakshatra's transformative energy and the cyclical nature of creation, preservation, and dissolution

Both Purva Bhadrapada and the fallen angel archetype occupy a liminal space between the celestial and the earthly. The Nakshatra's dance, representing the eternal cycles of creation and dissolution, mirrors the fallen angel's journey of navigating the delicate balance between divine origins and the complexities of earthly existence. The archetype captures the essence of beings caught between realms, embodying a poignant struggle for self-discovery and spiritual evolution.

Purva Bhadrapada's symbolism emphasizes the liberation achieved through the descent into the earthly plane. The fallen angel archetype, too, explores the concept of liberation through the transformative journey of descending into the human experience.

Both of these narratives invite contemplation on the complexities of existence, the interplay between divine and earthly energies, and the eternal dance between temptation and redemption—a dance that echoes through the corridors of mythology and astrology, captivating the human imagination across cultures and epochs.

High Priestess Archetype

The High Priestess archetype embodies the essence of occult wisdom, esoteric knowledge, and an intuitive connection to the cosmic dance—a dance that Purva Bhadrapada orchestrates with its transformative energies and mystical allure.

This energy is marked by an innate intuitive insight. Individuals under this influence possess a deep connection to the unseen realms, navigating the cosmic dance with a heightened sensitivity to the energies that surround them. Like the high priestess who guards the threshold between worlds, those attuned to Purva Bhadrapada can peer into the veiled mysteries of existence.

Purva Bhadrapada is a repository of occult wisdom, and individuals embodying this archetype hold the keys to esoteric knowledge. They become the keepers of ancient secrets, wielding the transformative power inherent in the cosmic dance. There is a profound connection to sacred rituals and ceremonies. Aja Ekapada's association with funeral rites, storms, and occult practices aligns with the priestess's role in conducting rituals that bridge the mundane and the divine. Purva Bhadrapada becomes a cosmic altar where transformative energies are harnessed through sacred rites.

This archetype mirrors the Nakshatra's dance of creation, preservation, and dissolution, revealing the cyclical nature of spiritual evolution. The priestess guides the seeker through the labyrinthine paths of transformation, facilitating a journey into the depths of the soul.

Purva Bhadrapada unfolds its cosmic dance through the lens of the mysterious high priestess archetype. It invites individuals to explore the depths of intuition, occult wisdom, and transformative energies, guiding them through the sacred rituals of spiritual evolution.

To be continued ..

[askthecafecow]

ITS CARNIVAL SEASON AND A NEW DEBUT IS SET!!!

Come join us at 4pm CST to hang out for a fun and fabulous 2-day festival event!!!!

[lividstar]

🪐 — ♡ FROM SATURN TO MARS

៚ wc: 24.2k

៚ angst, fluff but not really, astronomer!san x stargazer!reader, star-crossed lovers, right person, wrong time, san is literally “☝️🤓” personified but it’s alright because he’s a sweetheart

៚ warnings: mentions of suic!de

៚ playlist !

៚ Life has always felt like a constant struggle for you, burdened by the weight of a terminal illness that looms over every moment. The concept of finding peace, of unwinding, seems as foreign as the distant stars. Each attempt to embrace the fleeting joys of life feels like an effort wasted, as the ever-present shadow of your inevitable end dims any flicker of hope. Despite countless reassurances that it’s worth trying to find solace, the reality is that the pain and fear remain ablaze. Living each day with the knowledge of your limited time, you’ve tried to hold onto the present, to ignite a spark of hope in the face of despair. But unlike others who find motivation in the idea of living life to the fullest, the idea only brings you more anguish. Every attempt to seek positivity feels hollow and unreachable when every breath is a reminder of what you're losing. Little did you know how much your world would change when you meet Choi San, an aspiring astronomer who just happens to be a boy full of wonders—ones you’ve always believed have already ceased to exist.

Dreams come in different forms and can mean a lot of things.

Dreams can be a fleeting memory playing throughout your unconsciousness, and it could be a reminder of what once was—a moment from your childhood wherein your feet are dragging you at a fast pace around the playground, crumbs of the sand slowly invading your shoes as you turn your head behind to check if the distance between you and your playmate is closing further, flashing them a teasing look with a huge smile on your face—ending just before the moment you trip on your own feet and wail over a dark bruise on your knee.

It could also convey a wish that you yearn to come true, a thread high up in the air that you desperately want to have a grasp of and pull down on your level. It could be an ambition that you want to achieve, an activity you wish to participate in in the near future, a famous attraction you dream of visiting one day—simply put, saying you have a dream could convey different implications.

But amidst its vast sea of meanings, we all, at some point, have, or have had a dream in common: to live a life different from our own.

Maybe it hits you when you’re standing on the second highest pillar of the podium, holding your silver medal while the one at the very top shamelessly dangles their gold prize with a bouquet in their hands. Maybe it hits you when you pass by a section of a mall featuring expensive artifacts and seeing people your age walk through the aisles so easily as if it’s not a new thing to them. Maybe it hits you when you look in the mirror after scrolling past the page of an influencer considered by the masses as the embodiment of beauty.

Or maybe it hits you every single time you realize you’re alone in the battle against you and the fate of your life.

You were born with a shadow hanging over your life, a rare, incurable illness that marked you from your very first breath. From the moment you entered the world, doctors surrounded you with words like “degenerative,” “terminal,” and “limited time,” their clinical detachment doing little to soften the blow. For your parents, it was a devastating revelation, turning what should have been a joyous occasion into a lifelong struggle against an invisible enemy.

As a child, you didn’t fully understand the weight of your condition. You grew up watching other children run and play, while you sat on the sidelines, your body betraying you in ways their carefree laughter could never comprehend. Frequent hospital visits and endless medical tests became the norm, each one a stark reminder of the battle raging within you. The disease, a silent thief, slowly sapped your strength and vitality, leaving you more fragile with each passing year.

Your family wrapped you in love and support, their concern palpable in every gentle touch and soft-spoken word. Yet, despite their efforts, the isolation was inescapable. Friends drifted away, unable to understand your world of limitations and restrictions. The future that once seemed bright and boundless was now a narrow path, shadowed by the inevitability of your illness.

Growing up, you learned to withdraw yourself from the world, seeking refuge in the confines of your room. The outside world, with its boundless energy and endless possibilities, felt like a mocking contrast to your shrinking existence. Even the well-meaning efforts of your family to uplift your spirits felt like hollow gestures, incapable of penetrating the thick fog of despair that seems to love embracing you. Optimism now seems pathetic for you to have—like a distant memory, a relic of a past life now unreachable.

“Have you heard about the upcoming meteor shower next week?” Your father’s voice cuts through the fog of your thoughts, drawing your attention back to the present. You glance up from the book you’re reading, curiosity piqued.

“Oh...?” You manage to respond, the word hanging in the air like a broken bridge between your world and theirs.

“I saw it on today’s news headline. Thought I’d break the news to you since you love those kinds of things,” he says, passing by the couch where you sat and ruffling your hair lightly.

That’s right.

The night sky, vast and unending, was your sanctuary. In the quiet hours when the world is quiet in a deep slumber, you’d find a profound sense of peace under its sprawling canopy. The stars, scattered like shimmering diamonds across the pitch black sky, spoke to you in a language that exceeds even the deepest of words. You felt a kinship with these distant suns, their light traveling across the eons to reach you, a solitary observer. Their constancy provided a stark contrast to the unpredictable ebb and flow of your life. While your body betrayed you, the stars remained steadfast, their glow unchanging and eternal. It was this constancy that you clung to, a fading glimmer of hope in your darkest hours.

Each night, you would sit by the window, wrapped in a blanket, eyes scanning the heavens for familiar patterns and new discoveries. The cool night air would brush against your skin, a gentle reminder of the world beyond your room, while the silence enveloped you in a cocoon of temporary peace.

During these moments, you’d feel a connection to something greater than yourself. The stars were not just distant balls of burning gas; they were ancient, ethereal, and eternal. They had witnessed the birth and death of galaxies, the rise and fall of civilizations. In their presence, your own life, with all its pain and brevity, seemed part of a larger image you could never be able to picture. You were all but a small thread in its grand design, and in a way, you’ve grown to find comfort in that knowledge.

The moon, in its phases, has become a symbol of your journey. Waxing and waning, it mirrored your own cycles of hope and despair. When it was full, you felt a surge of strength, a fleeting belief that perhaps you could overcome the odds. When it was new, you were reminded of the darkness that loomed, but also of the promise that light would return.

In the solitude of these nights, you allowed yourself to dream. Not of a future filled with pain and uncertainty, but of other worlds and possibilities. You imagined traveling among the stars, free from the confines of your ailing body. You pictured yourself as an explorer, charting the galaxies, uncovering the secrets of the universe. These dreams, though unrealistic, gave you a sense of purpose, a brief escape from the harsh reality you faced.

Your mother joins in on the conversation, momentarily placing the knife down on the cutting board as she peeked in the living room from where she stood in the kitchen. “I know an observatory somewhere in this town. If you want, I could take you there. It would be beautiful—the place would provide you a clear view of the night sky.” She smiles, waiting for your nod of agreement.

And when it didn’t come as she anticipated, she decided to walk around the kitchen corner, making a beeline to where you sat on the couch with a pillow placed on top of your crossed legs. The cushion beside you sinks as she occupies it, reaching for your hand settled down on the pillow to caress the back of it gently with her mildly calloused fingers.

“We don’t know for sure when the next meteor shower will occur, and… there’s not much time left,” your mother whispers hesitantly, and despite being certain that you’ve already gone numb, the look in her eyes initiates a crack in your heart.

“I know you hate the thought of going outside, but I don’t want you to miss out on this opportunity. Remember when you used to bug me everyday to make a meteor shower happen after I read a book about it to you?” she brings up a distant memory, and you find yourself traveling back in time to recall it.

Back then, when you were just a carefree child with no worries, still unaware of the cruelty that resides in the real world, you genuinely believed your mother was powerful enough to be capable of making a meteor shower occur.

Since you’ve always held fondness of the stars and so much so of your mother, you always saw her as some sort of a hero of high authority, sometimes even calling her ‘Deity of the Stars’ and making poorly drawn colored sketches of her in what you liked to call her hero suit. You swore it was realistic and highly possible back then, but now, you could no longer see it as anything more than a ridiculous superficial thought.

“Yeah, I don’t know why I did that…” you trailed off blankly, erupting a soft fit of laughter from your mother.

“Well, you were young. It was bound to happen. But anyway,” she shifted in her seat, holding your hand just a little tighter now. “Stargazing became your favorite thing to do after finding out about meteor showers, so… I think it would be nice to revisit a fragment of your childhood, won’t it?”

You stared into the void of nothingness, momentarily zoning out to consider your mother’s words. She was right, so right you couldn’t even bring yourself to be pessimistic and wish she wasn’t.

“I just… I want you to at least feel happiness again while we still have time left, and watching the meteor shower would be a good kick-start for that,” she said, and you gently tighten your grasp on her hand as well. If only you could yearn for your own happiness as much as she does for you.

Finally, you looked right into her eyes. “Okay,” you nod, the single word carrying the weight of your acceptance.

Your mother’s face lights up with a mixture of relief and sadness. “Great! Great, I… I can’t wait to take you there,” she beams with a shaky voice, and despite the wide smile on her lips, there were still tears falling down her eyes. She looks away as she attempts to wipe them out, and it shatters your heart even more.

Taking the pillow off your lap and placing it on the empty spot on your other side, you lean forward to engulf her in a heartfelt embrace, and she doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around you as well. She buries her face in your neck, the fabric of your shirt muffling her sobs of joy. You swore you had already gone numb, but this time, you feel a stray tear slowly fall down the skin of your face.

If you couldn’t bring yourself to experience the wonders of life for your own sake, then you’d do it for your parents.

—

The night before the meteor shower enveloped you in an eerie stillness, as if the world itself was holding its breath. You found yourself once again at the window, gazing out at the vast, star-speckled sky. The room was bathed in the faint glow of moonlight, casting a dim, silvery glow over everything. Outside, the symphony of crickets serenaded the night, their rhythmic chirping mingling with the soft hum of your room’s air conditioner. Occasionally, the rustling of your blanket as you shifted ever so slightly, trying to battle the cold evening air, broke the quiet atmosphere.

Whenever you’d find yourself in this scenario, looking up at the stars as their light glimmered and pierced through the inky darkness, a profound sense of calm would usually settle over you. The night sky had always been your refuge, a place where you could escape the harsh reality of your existence.

But tonight… tonight was different.

A heavy gloom began to seep into your thoughts, spreading through you like the thick ink of a quill spreading through a blank white paper. The beauty of the stars, which once brought solace, now seemed to mock your suffering. A wave of despair crashed over you, and your mind wandered to the inevitable end that awaited you.

The thought of your impending death hung over you like a dark cloud, casting a pall over the fleeting moments of joy you managed to grasp. It felt so unfair—so profoundly unjust—that your life had to be this way. You had dreams, aspirations, and desires just like anyone else, but they were perpetually out of reach, caged by the bars of your illness.

Why does it have to be this way? Why was such a cruel fate destined to be bound to you? It’s not like you asked to be born with such a disease—it’s not like you asked to be born. Everything that has ever happened to you your entire life has been against your will. For all the years you’ve spent in this world, you weren’t living—you were surviving.

You sighed, a deep, weary sound that seemed to echo in the silence of your room. The stars twinkled back at you, distant and untouchable. Your heart ached with the weight of your reality. How could you ever feel genuine happiness knowing that every moment was borrowed, that every smile was tinged with the bitterness of impermanence? The thought of letting go of everything you held dear gnawed at you relentlessly. It was a cruel joke, this life of yours, filled with fleeting moments of beauty overshadowed by an ever-present sense of doom.

Your thoughts then drifted to your parents. The sacrifices they had made, the countless nights they spent worrying about you, and the mountains of medical bills they had to pay—all of it weighed heavily on your conscience. You felt like a burden, an anchor dragging them down into an abyss of despair and financial ruin.

You leaned your forehead against the cool glass of the window, the weight of your guilt pressing down on you like a physical burden. It was a familiar feeling, one that had become an unwelcome companion over the years. The self-blame gnawed at you relentlessly, a persistent whisper in the back of your mind, telling you that you were the cause of all this pain.

This is all your fault.

This is all your fault.

This is all your fault.

Your thoughts eventually spiraled into a darker territory. If only you could just die sooner, you mused bitterly, then your parents wouldn’t have to endure this endless cycle of hope and despair. They could finally be free from the financial strain, the emotional turmoil, the constant fear of losing you. You envisioned them laughing together, their faces free from the lines of worry that had become so deeply etched into their features. They deserved that happiness, and you felt like you were stealing it from them.

It was so, so unfair on their behalf. All they ever wanted was to have a happy family—and then you let out your first breath and ruined everything.

The guilt was suffocating. It wrapped around your heart like a snake to its victim, squeezing tighter with each passing moment. You felt like a burden, a weight that your family had to carry, dragging them down with you into the bottom of the pit. The treatments, the surgeries, the endless doctor visits—they all felt like futile attempts to hold back the inevitable. And with each one, you saw the toll it took on your parents, the way their shoulders sagged a little more, their smiles became a little more forced.

You hated yourself for it. You hated that you were the cause of their suffering. You hated that you couldn’t be the healthy, carefree child they deserved. The resentment you felt towards your own body was a constant undercurrent, a bitter poison that tainted every moment of your life. How could you ever bring yourself to feel happy when your very existence seemed to be the source of so much pain?

The stars outside your window blurred as tears filled your eyes. You blinked them away, but they kept coming, hot and insistent. The enormity of your guilt was overwhelming, an ocean that would haunt you almost every single day. You wished, more than anything, that you could be someone else—someone who could bring joy instead of sorrow, hope instead of despair.

But you weren’t. You were trapped in this failing body, watching as your parents’ lives were consumed by your illness. The knowledge that you were the cause of their suffering was a wound that never healed, a constant ache that you carried with you every day. And it made the prospect of finding happiness feel impossible, a distant dream that you could never reach.

You clenched your fists, the frustration and anger boiling up inside you. Why did it have to be this way? Why couldn’t you be normal, healthy, free? The unfairness of it all was like a knife twisting in your gut, sharp and fresh as it draws blood from your insides. You didn’t ask for this life, this body, this fate. And yet, you were the one who had to live it, the one who had to endure it all because it’s the only thing you can do.

You longed desperately for a sign, something to tell you that there was a reason to keep going. You searched the night sky for it, hoping that maybe the stars, your silent companions, would offer you some form of guidance or comfort. But they remained silent, providing no answers to the questions that have been disturbing your mind.

Oftentimes, you found yourself wondering why you were still holding on. Why not just let go, end the suffering now? The thought of slipping away, of finding peace in the nothingness, was a tempting escape. What was the point of all this suffering? Why continue to drag yourself through each day when the end was inevitable and so painfully near?

But then, once more, you thought of your parents. The image of their faces, worn with worry and exhaustion, flashed before your eyes. They have sacrificed so much for you—time, money, their own happiness—all in the hope of giving you a chance at life. You couldn’t bear the thought of their sacrifices being in vain. You couldn’t stand the idea of their grief and guilt if you gave up now.

It was this thought, more than anything else, that kept your will to stay in this world going. You didn’t want their efforts to be wasted, didn’t want the countless hours spent in hospitals and the endless piles of medical bills to be for nothing. Their love for you was evident in every exhausted smile, every gentle touch, every whispered word of encouragement. You couldn’t repay them by giving up.

You needed a sign, something to break through the darkness and give you a reason to keep going. You needed to believe that there was more to life than this endless suffering, that there was still something worth fighting for. But each day that passed without such a sign left you feeling more hopeless, more resigned to your fate.

The thought of the upcoming meteor shower lingered in your mind. Perhaps, just perhaps, it would provide the solace you so desperately craved. Maybe standing beneath the falling stars would bring you a sense of peace, a glimpse of the beauty that still existed in the world despite your pain.

Maybe there, you’d find the sign you’ve been helplessly looking for, a reason to hold on for just a little longer.

—

You wake up in the afternoon, the sunlight passing softly through your bedroom curtains, painting gentle shadows on the walls. Stretching, you slowly make your way to the living room, drawn by the sounds of clinking pots and the savory aroma wafting from the kitchen. As you enter, you see your parents in the kitchen, working together as they prepare what seems to be an extravagant feast.

“Mom? Dad?” you call out, your voice slightly raspy from sleep.

They turn their heads toward you, their faces lighting up with warm smiles. But their expressions quickly shift to concern as they notice your puffy eyes, the lingering evidence of last night’s tears.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, trying to mask your emotions.

Your father steps out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. He walks over to you, his eyes filled with gentle worry. “Were you crying last night?” he asks softly, his voice a tender blend of concern and love.

You shake your head quickly, turning his words down. “No, no, I’m fine. I just… overslept, that’s probably why my eyes are puffy.” The lie feels heavy on your tongue, but you can’t bear to add to their worries.

Your father doesn’t push further, though it’s clear he doesn’t believe you. Instead, he switches the topic, his tone turning lighter. “We’re cooking up quite a feast today. Your mom got a little carried away, I think,” he says with a chuckle.

You glance over at the kitchen, the counters filled with various ingredients and dishes in different stages of preparation. “What’s all this for?” you ask, puzzled.

Your mother turns from the stove, her face bright with a mixture of excitement and something deeper, something sadder. “Today’s a big day for you, since you’ll be going out tonight,” she says, her eyes shining. “We couldn’t help but get a little excited and maybe go a bit overboard.”

You furrow your brow, confused. “Why? I know there’s a meteor shower, but what’s so special about me watching it?”

Your parents exchange a glance, a silent conversation passing between them, filled with unspoken words and shared sorrow. Your mother turns off the stove and walks over to you, her expression softening with a bittersweet smile. She reaches out and takes your hands in hers, leading you to the couch where the three of you sit down together.

“Honey,” she begins, her voice gentle but firm, “we know how hard things have been for you. And we know how much you love the stars. This meteor shower… it’s not just any event. It’s something special, something that we hope will bring you a bit of joy, even if just for a moment.”

Your father nods, his eyes glistening with emotions. “We wanted to make today special for you because… because we love you. We want you to have something to hold onto, a memory that’s beautiful and bright, like the stars you love so much.”

Your mother squeezes your hands, her eyes searching yours. “You’ve been so strong, so brave. We see how much you’re hurting, and we just want to give you a piece of happiness, something that can shine through the darkness.”

Tears well up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. “But… why go through all this trouble?” you ask, your voice slightly shaking.

Your mother flashes you a gentle smile. “Because you, my dear, mean the world to us. If doing all this could potentially be a way to help you find the light inside of you, then it’s not something we’ll deem troublesome at all.”

Your father wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a comforting embrace. “You’re not alone in this, sweetheart. We’re here with you, every step of the way. And tonight, we want to share the magic of the stars with you, to remind you that there’s still beauty and wonder in the world, no matter how hard things get.”

The weight of their words settles over you, a mixture of overwhelming love and a deep, aching sadness. You feel their sincerity, their desire to give you something beautiful, something that transcends the pain. And in that moment, you realize that this night, this meteor shower, is more than just an event. It’s a symbol of their unending love, their hope, and their determination to make your life a little brighter, even if only for a short while.

When you’re all finally seated at the dining table, the array of dishes laid out before you, there’s a tangible air of celebration mixed with a touch of melancholy. The scents of home-cooked food fill the room, and your parents’ faces are illuminated by the soft, warm glow of the overhead light.

As you begin to eat, the conversation flows naturally at first, revolving around the familiar comfort of family and the minutiae of daily life. But soon, your parents gently steer the discussion toward the evening ahead.

“So, what’s the plan for tonight?” your father asks, his tone light and casual, though his eyes are watchful.

You look up from your plate, feeling the weight of their expectations. “Just watching the meteor shower, I guess,” you say before turning your attention back on slicing the steak laid out in front of you, your voice steady but devoid of enthusiasm.

Your mother leans forward slightly, a hopeful smile on her face. “Maybe after we watch the meteor shower, we could stop by that new fast-food restaurant that opened last month. I hear their milkshakes are amazing.”

You offer a small, polite smile in return, shaking your head. “I think I’ll stick to just watching the meteor shower tonight.”

There’s a brief silence, the only sounds coming from the clinking of silverware against plates and the faint hum of the refrigerator. Your parents exchange a glance, their faces reflecting a mix of disappointment and understanding.

Your father tries again, his voice gentle. “Or we could swing by the mall for a little while. They’ve decorated for the season, and it might be nice to walk around, maybe do some window shopping.”

You feel the sincerity in his words, the genuine desire to make your evening special. But for now, the thought of venturing beyond the observatory, of facing the bustling energy of the outside world, feels overwhelming.

“Thanks, Dad,” you reply, your tone soft but firm. “But really, just the meteor shower is enough for me.”

Your mother reaches across the table, her hand covering yours. “We understand,” she says, her voice filled with a mixture of love and sorrow. “Baby steps, right?”

You nod, grateful for her understanding. “Yeah… baby steps.”

They continue to eat, the conversation shifting back to more mundane topics, but the undercurrent of their hopes for you lingers in the air. They don’t press further, recognizing that perhaps tonight, simply watching the meteor shower is as much as you can manage. Their sadness is evident, but it’s tempered by their acceptance, their willingness to let you take things at your own pace.

When the night falls, the air is filled with a sense of anticipation as the three of you prepare for the journey to the observatory. You find yourself in your room, standing before the wardrobe that holds the outdoor clothes your parents have bought for you throughout the years. Clothes that, for the most part, have only seen the light of day during hospital visits for your monthly checkups.

You reach for a long, dirty white dress adorned with a delicate pattern of tiny roses. It’s simple, yet beautiful—a piece that speaks to the girl you wish you could be, one full of dreams and wonder. You pair it with a dark red knitted cardigan, the warm hue adding a touch of vibrancy to your outfit. A pair of shoes, carefully chosen to match, complete your ensemble.

Deciding to fix yourself up a little, you apply a light amount of makeup. As you gaze at your reflection in the mirror, you’re struck by a strange mix of emotions. There’s a hint of the person you could have been, the life you might have led.

As if on cue, there’s a soft knock on your door. “Are you finished preparing?” your mother’s voice calls from the hallway.

“You can come in,” you reply, turning to face the door. And when she enters, she’s nearly brought to tears at the sight of you.

“You look so beautiful,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. She crosses the room in a few quick strides, enveloping you in a warm, heartfelt embrace. Though you’re confused by the intensity of her reaction, you hug her back, your arms wrapping around her with equal tenderness.

When she finally pulls away, she cups your face in her hands, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m so, so, so proud of you,” she says, her voice trembling with sincerity.

You offer her a small, genuine smile, your hands reaching up to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Thanks, Mom.”

Together, you make your way downstairs. Your father is waiting on the couch, his eyes lighting up when he sees you. “You look amazing,” he says, his voice filled with genuine awe. He stands and wraps you in a hug as well, his embrace warm and reassuring.

They really do love you dearly, and it makes your heart swell with a mix of gratitude and sorrow. It’s moments like these that remind you of the depth of their love, their unwavering support despite the countless hardships they have to face.

Soon, you’re all in your father’s car, the engine purring as you set off towards the observatory. The drive is serene, the world outside bathed in the soft glow of streetlights and the distant shimmer of stars. Your parents, sensing your nervousness, try to distract you with gentle conversation.

“Did you know that the observatory was built over a hundred years ago?” your dad asks, his tone light and engaging. “It’s seen countless meteor showers and celestial events. It’s almost like it has a history of its own.”

“Really?” you reply, your curiosity piqued. “That’s interesting.”

Your mom chimes in, her voice soft and soothing. “I read somewhere that watching a meteor shower is supposed to bring good luck. Maybe tonight will bring something special for all of us.”

You nod, giving her a small smile. Their efforts to lighten your mood are not lost on you, and though the anxiety still lingers, you feel a bit more at ease.

As the car winds its way through the darkened roads, you find yourself staring out the window, the stars above a silent reminder of the night ahead. You cling to the hope that this evening, beneath the vast expanse of the sky, something will shift—perhaps the night will end with you finally having a reason to hold on just a little longer.

When you finally arrive, you see the observatory perched in the middle of a grassy field atop a hill. The area around it is alive with people setting up blankets, reclining lawn chairs, and chatting as they wait for the meteor shower to begin. Some have chosen to stay inside the observatory, where telescopes and guided explanations promise a closer look at the sky.

You and your parents head towards the observatory, but something inside you makes you hesitate. The idea of watching the meteor shower while lying on the grass, feeling the earth beneath you and the sky above, seems more intimate and appealing.

“I think I’d like to watch it from here,” you tell your parents, glancing at the open field.

They exchange a look of concern. “Are you sure?” your father asks, hesitation evident in his voice.

You nod, offering a reassuring smile. “Yeah. You two should go inside. I’ll be fine out here. Baby steps, right?”

Your mother looks at you for a long moment, and a heartwarming smile finds its way to her lips. She was so, so proud of you. “Alright. We’ll be inside if you need us. Just come find us when you’re ready.”

“I will,” you promise, and with that, they head towards the observatory.

You spread out a blanket on the grass and sit down, the night air cool against your skin. Around you, groups of friends, families, and couples chatter excitedly. You can hear the hum of their conversations, the occasional burst of laughter, and the low murmur of anticipation. Despite the crowds, you feel a profound sense of solitude.

The meteor shower begins, and you crane your neck, squinting at the sky, but you can’t see anything. Frustration starts to build, knotting in your chest. Just as you’re about to give up, a voice speaks from behind you.

“You might want to use a telescope for that.”

You turn around, startled. Standing behind you is a fairly attractive young man. He’s wearing a white shirt with a flannel over it and black pants, framed glasses perched on his nose. His presence is unexpected but you don’t speak against it nevertheless, and he gives you a warm, easy smile.

“Here,” he says, sitting down beside you and handing you a small telescope.

You take it hesitantly, your fingers brushing against his for a brief moment. “Uh… thank you,” you mumble awkwardly—understandably so as you don’t exactly know how to talk to anyone who isn’t your family or your doctor, bringing the telescope to your eye. As you adjust the focus, the sky bursts into clarity, and you see a streak of light arc across the darkness—a meteor.

“Wow,” you whisper, unable to tear your gaze away.

The young man chuckles softly beside you. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

For a while, the two of you sit in companionable silence, watching the sky. Each meteor that blazes across the heavens feels like a small miracle, a moment of beauty in a world that often seems so harsh and unkind.

He breaks the silence, his voice gentle and filled with enthusiasm. “You know, this year’s meteor shower is part of the Perseids. They’re actually debris left behind by the comet Swift-Tuttle, which orbits the sun every 133 years. The meteors you’re seeing tonight are fragments of that comet burning up in Earth’s atmosphere.”

You put down the telescope for a moment and look at him, intrigued but unsure how to respond. His knowledge and passion are evident, and you don’t want to interrupt or discourage him. Fortunately, he seems to notice your silence and continues, his excitement growing as he speaks.

“It’s one of the most spectacular meteor showers because the particles hit the atmosphere at over 133,000 miles per hour, creating these bright, fast streaks of light. And on a good night, like tonight, you can see up to a hundred meteors per hour.”

Wanting to add your own contribution to the conversation so you wouldn’t seem like you’re just putting up with him, you say, “You seem to know a lot about astronomy.”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling into crescents. He shyly rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I’m an aspiring astronomer, so…”

“Really?” You react to the unexpected newfound knowledge about this stranger with genuine surprise, your interest being genuinely piqued.

“Yeah,” he says, his smile widening. “Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been obsessed with the night sky. There’s just something about the vastness of space, the mystery of it all, that makes me feel... connected, I guess. Like, there’s so much more out there, you know?”

“I’ve always loved the stars too,” you admit quietly, almost as if sharing a secret. “They make me feel... less alone.”

His eyes soften and you’re not sure how you were able to see it happening clearly even though your surroundings are dim and the reflection of the distant lights cover the lens of his glasses—not to mention the strands of his hair at the very front framing his face, and he nods. “Exactly. It’s like looking at the stars makes everything else seem smaller, less overwhelming.”

Feeling an unexpected sense of ease, you shift slightly to face him a little more, curiosity bubbling up inside you. “Do you know any interesting facts about astronomy?” you ask, your voice tinged with genuine interest.

It was refreshing hearing him talk so passionately about this year’s meteor shower, telling you about facts you were certain not even a quarter of the people in here—save for the astronomers—know of, and you’re not sure why, but it made you want to hear him share his knowledge with you more.

He looks at you, momentarily puzzled. “Like... anything? Anything at all?”

You nod eagerly. “Yeah. I mean… I love stargazing, but I don’t really know much about astronomy itself. I just think the night sky is comforting and looks pretty.”

A warm smile spreads across his face, and he seems delighted by your interest. “Well, where to start?” He takes a moment to think. “Did you know that the Sun, our own star, produces the energy equivalent of 100 billion nuclear bombs every second through nuclear fusion in its core? Or that neutron stars, which are the remnants of supernovae, can spin up to 500 times per second? They're incredibly dense—a single teaspoon of neutron star material would weigh about a billion tons!”

He was practically beaming while sharing the facts about astronomy he knows of, and it drives your curiosity—despite being unsure if it’s directed to any further knowledge from him or to the young man himself—even further.

“That’s insane," you say in genuine astonishment. “How do neutron stars spin so fast? And… how can something be that dense? I can’t even imagine it.”

His eyes light up, clearly pleased by your genuine interest. “Neutron stars are fascinating, right? Their rapid rotation is due to the conservation of angular momentum. When the core of a massive star collapses in a supernova, it retains its angular momentum but its radius shrinks dramatically, causing it to spin much faster—kind of like how a figure skater spins faster when they pull their arms in.”

“And the density?” you press, leaning in slightly.

“Well,” he continues, “neutron stars are composed almost entirely of neutrons, which are packed so closely together that their density becomes astronomical. It’s mind-blowing to think about, but it’s because all the empty space between atoms gets eliminated, leaving just the neutrons packed together.”

His passion for astronomy is contagious, and as he explains the wonders of neutron stars, you can’t help but be impressed by his vast knowledge. You find yourself wondering just how long and often he studies, as it’s a fascinating sight to see someone so dedicated to their passion. In a way, you envy that trait—it’s something you’ve longed for in your own life.

“Neutron stars are just one example,” he continues speaking, oblivious to your internal musings. “The universe is full of these mind-boggling phenomena that challenge our understanding of physics and reality.”

You watch him, noting the excitement in his voice, the way his eyes sparkle as he speaks. It’s clear that he lives and breathes this subject, and his enthusiasm is infectious. There’s something comforting about his dedication, a reminder that there are people out there who are deeply connected to their passions.

His eyes twinkle with curiosity as he asks, “Do you have any favorite constellations in particular?” You tilt your head, wondering where this is going. “Why do you ask?”

He grins. “I want to see if I have any interesting facts about it. I’ve read a lot about constellations, so I’m curious if I can tell you something new about your favorite.” You think for a moment before replying, “Orion. I’ve always liked Orion.”

His face lights up. “Orion, the Hunter! That's a great choice. Did you know that the stars in Orion's Belt��Alnitak, Alnilam, and Mintaka—are all blue supergiants? They’re incredibly hot and massive, much more so than our Sun.”

He continues, “Betelgeuse, the red supergiant that marks one of Orion’s shoulders, is fascinating too. It’s so large that if it were placed in the center of our solar system, its surface would extend beyond the orbit of Mars. Betelgeuse is also a semiregular variable star, meaning its brightness changes over time. Astronomers think it could go supernova anytime within the next million years, which in cosmic terms is pretty soon.”

He then dived deeper into the lore and facts about Orion, his enthusiasm evident. “Then there’s Rigel, Orion’s other shoulder star. It’s a blue supergiant about 870 light-years away from us. It’s one of the brightest stars in our sky, around 120,000 times more luminous than the Sun. But it’s not just one star—Rigel is actually a star system with at least three components, possibly even more. There’s Rigel A, the supergiant, and a pair of smaller stars that orbit around it.”

You listen intently, drawn in by his enthusiasm. As he continues to talk, you can’t help but be captivated by the depth of his knowledge. He speaks with such passion and ease, and you wonder just how long and often he must study astronomy to know so much. It’s a stark contrast to your own experiences, where your illness has often overshadowed any pursuit of hobbies or interests.

“Another fascinating thing is that Orion’s Belt aligns almost perfectly with the pyramids of Giza in Egypt. This alignment has sparked numerous theories and legends about ancient civilizations and their connection to the stars. Some believe the pyramids were built to mirror the constellation, symbolizing a connection between Earth and the heavens,” he says, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping as if sharing a secret.

You find yourself thinking about how amazing it is to see someone so deeply invested in something. His eyes light up with every new fact he shares, his excitement palpable. It makes you feel a twinge of envy; you wish you could have such a passion, something that drives you and fills you with purpose.

“And there’s more,” he continues, “The Horsehead Nebula, which is part of the Orion Molecular Cloud Complex, is a dark nebula located just south of Alnitak, the leftmost star in Orion’s Belt. It's named for its distinctive shape, which looks like the head of a horse. It’s a fascinating area of space where new stars are being born.”

You listen, mesmerized not just by the information but by the boy himself. There’s something inspiring about his dedication and the way he finds joy in the cosmos. For a moment, your own struggles seem distant, replaced by a curiosity and a desire to know more.

“Wow, I had no idea there was so much to Orion,” you say, genuinely impressed. He smiles, his eyes still twinkling. “There’s always more to learn and discover. That’s what I love about astronomy—it constantly reminds me how vast and mysterious our universe is.”

Just as you practically feel that he’s about to steer the conversation towards you and ask if there’s anything you’re passionate about, you’re quick on your feet to beat him to it, “Why do you want to become an astronomer? Why are you so dedicated to it?”

He pauses, his expression softening as he considers your question. “It’s a long story,” he begins, his eyes flickering to the stars above. “But the short version is, I’ve always been fascinated by the night sky. When I was a kid, my parents got me a telescope for my birthday. I remember the first time I saw the rings of Saturn—I was completely hooked.”

You watch him closely, noticing the way his features light up with each word. There’s a deep-seated passion in his voice, a genuine love for the subject he spoke of.

“My grandfather was a big influence too,” he continues. “He used to take me out to this old observatory near our house. We’d spend hours there, just looking at the stars and talking about the universe. He’d tell me stories about constellations and the myths behind them. Those moments felt magical, and they sparked a curiosity in me that never went away.”

He glances at you, a small, wistful smile appearing on his lips. “As I grew older, I realized that astronomy wasn’t just about looking at pretty stars. It’s about understanding our place in the universe, exploring the unknown, and constantly challenging what we think we know. There’s so much out there that we haven’t discovered yet, and that’s what drives me. The idea that, no matter how much we learn, there’s always more to uncover.”

You nod slowly, captivated by his words. It’s clear that his dedication to astronomy isn’t just about the science; it’s about the wonder and endless possibilities the universe holds.

“And I guess,” he adds, his voice softer, “it’s also a way to keep that connection with my grandfather alive. Every time I look through a telescope, it feels like he’s there with me, sharing that moment."

“That’s incredible,” you say, your voice filled with genuine admiration. “It’s amazing how something like a childhood gift can shape your entire life.”

He chuckles, the sound warm and comforting. “Yeah, it’s funny how life works out sometimes. Well… what about you? Do you have anything you’re passionate about?”

You hesitate, looking down at the grass, the weight of your own struggles pressing on your shoulders. “There’s nothing in particular that I hold any sort of passion for,” you admit hesitantly. “It just feels pointless. There’s not enough time for me to explore anything, and even if I did, it would all go to waste in the end anyway. So, I never really bothered to try.”

The young man listens intently, his expression thoughtful. “I understand,” he begins, choosing his words carefully. “It’s easy to get overwhelmed by the idea of how things might end, especially when you feel like you have limited time. But sometimes, it’s not about the end result; it’s about the moments in between. Focusing on what’s happening right now, what’s right in front of you, can make all the difference."

You let out a small sigh, feeling a mix of frustration and sadness. He doesn’t understand at all—but he’s not at fault for that. “That’s easier said than done.”

He nods in agreement. “Well, you’re right. It is easier said than done. But, hey, there’s always a first time for everything, and this could be one of those times. Starting small can make it more manageable.”

“But what’s the point in doing all that, anyway?” you ask, a hint of resignation in your voice.

He leans in slightly, his gaze warm and full of hope—a stark contrast to yours that are devoid of emotion. “The point is to find those little moments of joy and meaning, even if they seem insignificant. Maybe it starts with something as simple as taking a walk in the park, trying out a new flavor of your favorite food, or experimenting with a different style than what you're used to. These small steps can lead to new experiences and, who knows, maybe even a newfound passion.”

He continues speaking, “It’s about creating moments that matter to you, no matter how small they might seem. And maybe, over time, those moments will add up to something bigger, something meaningful.”

You look at him and, without much emotion, remark, “You seem to be a really sentimental and optimistic person.”

He blushes slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I try to see the bright side in everything. It’s not always easy, but I believe there’s always something good, even in the toughest situations.”

Is there?

You hesitate, then ask, “But what if you come across a situation where it’s impossible to see the bright side? What would you do then?”

His smile falters for a moment, and he looks thoughtful. “That’s a tough question,” he admits. “I think, in those moments, it’s about finding any sliver of hope you can, no matter how small. Sometimes, it’s not about seeing the bright side immediately but about holding on until things start to make sense. It might mean leaning on others for support, finding strength in small victories, or just surviving one day at a time.”

You glance down, digesting his words. They resonate with you more deeply than you expected. Though he doesn’t know it, he is describing your life—the struggle, the search for any small piece of hope.

He continues, his voice softer. “There are times when the world seems overwhelmingly dark, and in those times, it’s okay to acknowledge that it’s hard. But I believe there’s always a way forward, even if it’s just a tiny step at a time.”

“But what if you can’t find any sliver of hope because there’s none in the first place?” you ask, your voice tinted with a mix of frustration and resignation.

He pauses, as if he’s beginning to sense the weight of your words. “Are you… speaking from a personal perspective?” he asks gently, afraid to hit any sore spot.

You look down at the grass, avoiding his gaze. The silence stretches, and he takes it as a sign to answer.

“Well, sometimes, it feels like there’s no hope at all,” he begins carefully. “I’ve had moments like that, where everything seems bleak. When that happens, I try to remember that feelings are temporary, even the worst ones. It might not seem like it now, but change is the only constant. If you can’t find hope in your current situation, maybe it can come from something small, something outside of the immediate struggle.”

He shifted slightly closer, playing with the lace of his shoe while he sat cross-legged. “It might be a smile from a stranger, a kind word from a friend, or even a moment like this, where you’re sharing your thoughts with someone. Those tiny moments of connection can sometimes provide the sliver of hope we need to keep going.”

You remain silent, processing his words. He continues, “And if you can’t see any hope right now, that’s okay. Sometimes, we have to lean on others to help us find it. You don’t have to carry the burden alone. There are people who care about you and want to help.”

“Do you think there’s hope left for those with a doomed fate?” you ask, your voice coming out as a whisper, filled with an unspoken plea for reassurance.

He falls silent for a moment, contemplating your question. “Hope is a complicated thing,” he begins slowly. “Even in the darkest of times, hope can be the smallest of lights. It’s not always about finding a way to change your fate, but rather finding a way to live despite it.”

He looks up at the sky, his eyes reflecting the faint glow of the stars. “I believe that even when someone’s fate seems doomed, there can still be moments of beauty, connection, and meaning. Those moments might not change the outcome, but they can change the experience of the journey. It’s about making the most of the time you have, no matter how limited it may be. It can be as simple as watching a meteor shower with someone who cares, or as profound as realizing that your life, however brief, has touched others in ways you might never fully understand.”

You listen, his words weaving through the heavy fog of your thoughts. His sincerity offers a glimmer of comfort, a reminder that even in a seemingly hopeless situation, there can still be a reason to hold on, even if just for a little while longer.

Suddenly, your conversation with him is interrupted by the distant call of your mother. Both of you glance back towards the source of the voice. The realization hits you that it’s time to go home. You turn back to him, a slight reluctance in your eyes.

“It’s getting late. I should probably head home,” you say, standing up and brushing the grass off your dress. The cool night air feels heavier now, carrying with it a sense of the evening coming to an end. “You should too.”

He remains seated, his eyes fixed on you with a warm smile. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he replies, but makes no immediate move to get up. There’s a quiet understanding in his gaze, an acknowledgment of the fleeting yet meaningful connection you’ve shared.

You both wave goodbye, and you add, “Thanks… for talking to me. It was nice meeting you.”

“It was nice meeting you too,” he says while smiling, still seated, watching you walk away, his eyes following your every step.

As you approach your parents, their broad smiles greet you, filled with a mix of curiosity and pride. “What’s the matter?” you ask with genuine curiosity.

“Did you make a new friend?” your mother inquires, her eyes sparkling with hope and a touch of relief.

At the mention of the young man, you glance back towards where you left him. He’s now engrossed in his telescope, scanning the night sky with the same passion that drew you to him in the first place. You turn back to your parents with a nonchalant shrug. “I’m not really sure.”

Your father places a gentle hand on your shoulder, his grip warm and reassuring. “We’re proud of you for trying to talk to someone new,” he says, his voice filled with encouragement.

Your mother nods in agreement, her smile soft and understanding. “It’s a big step, and we’re just glad you took it.”

On the ride home, the car is filled with a comfortable silence, the kind that allows thoughts to flow freely. You find yourself replaying the stranger’s words over and over in your mind. His perspective on life, his deep passion for astronomy, and his hopeful outlook seem to carve out a small but significant space in your heart. His advice to focus on the present rather than the daunting future lingers, a beacon of light in your often dark and uncertain world.

As the car rolls through the quiet streets, you glance out the window at the night sky. The stars seem a bit brighter now, each one a reminder of the infinite possibilities that exist, even in the face of overwhelming odds.

Suddenly, a realization hits you, pulling you out of your reverie. You didn’t get to ask him what his name was. A pang of regret settles in your chest, mingling with the residual warmth of the evening. You wonder if you’ll ever see him again, or if this brief encounter will remain just a fleeting, albeit impactful, memory.

For the first time in a long while, you feel a tiny flicker of something akin to hope. It’s fragile and tentative, but it’s there, nestled in the corner of your mind, whispering that maybe, just maybe, there’s more to life than the bleakness you’ve grown accustomed to.

For once, the shooting stars have heard your wish to be given a sign to keep going.

—

A few days later, you find yourself under that dark cloud of sadness again. It always strikes at the most unexpected times—like now, while you’re in the shower. The water droplets sprinkling from the showerhead feel more like a deluge, and you can’t shake the sensation of being drowned by your own thoughts. The sadness, always lurking in the background, engulfs you completely. You turn off the shower, the silence of the room only amplifying the roar of your thoughts. Leaning against the tiled walls, you tilt your head back, as if trying to prevent the tears from falling. Just as the dam is about to break, a voice echoes in your mind—his voice, almost as if on cue.

“I believe that even when someone’s fate seems doomed, there can still be moments of beauty, connection, and meaning. Those moments might not change the outcome, but they can change the experience of the journey. It’s about making the most of the time you have, no matter how limited it may be.”

His words cut through the darkness, offering a glimmer of light. Making the most of your time... no matter how limited it may be. You remember him mentioning the small steps you can take: going on a walk, trying out new things. An idea starts to form, slowly but surely.

After finishing your shower, you head to your room. A staring contest with your closet ensues as you ponder what would be appropriate for a day at the park. Once you settle on something comfortable yet presentable and finish fixing yourself up, you walk to the living room, where only your father was found as your mother was away for work. The sight of you fully dressed up surprises him—in a good way.

“What’s the occasion?” he asks, trying to mask his astonishment.

Shyly, you respond, “Can you drive me to the park?”

Your father’s eyes widen in surprise, and you can see he’s holding back tears. His voice choked with emotion, happily agreeing. “Of course! I mean, of course, sweetheart. Let’s go.”

His pride and happiness is palpable, and for the first time in a long while, you feel a small sense of accomplishment. It’s a tiny step, but it’s the beginning of something new. As you walk towards the door with your father, the young man’s words continue to echo in your mind.

On the drive to the park, you gaze out the window, watching the world pass by. The trees blur together, and the sky stretches out infinitely, offering a sense of calm. The hum of the car is soothing, and for a moment, you let yourself be enveloped by the tranquility.

Your father, hands steady on the wheel, breaks the silence with a gentle question. “What made you want to go to the park today?”

Turning to him, you muster a small smile, so faint it could barely be seen. “Just... making the most out of the time I have left,” you shrug.

Your father glances at you, his eyes softening with a mix of pride and sadness. He doesn’t say anything, but his expression speaks volumes. He’s grateful to see you taking steps, no matter how small, towards finding some semblance of joy or normalcy.

As the car continues down the road, the significance of this simple outing begins to settle in. It’s not just a trip to the park; it’s a step towards living, towards reclaiming moments that were lost in the shadow of illness and despair.

When you finally arrive at the park, you take a deep breath, ready to embrace whatever this new experience might bring. For now, you’re just a girl, standing in a park, making the most of the time she has, and that’s enough.

Your father gives you a reassuring smile. “Make sure you message me when you’re ready to be picked up, okay?” You nod, trying to mirror his smile. “I will.”

He waves goodbye as you step out of the car, and suddenly, you’re alone. Taking small steps, the outside world feels almost unfamiliar. People are everywhere—couples, friends, families. Pets chase each other around, vendors sell a variety of foods, and the trees provide a gentle, comforting breeze.

You stroll through the park, slowly taking in your surroundings. Every step is cautious because this isn’t exactly familiar territory. But you remind yourself—baby steps. This is a new experience, and you deserve to cut yourself some slack.

Lost in your thoughts, you wander through the park, hardly noticing as the density of people around you gradually increases. The noise rises, a symphony of chatter, laughter, and footsteps, becoming more unbearable with each step you take. It’s as if the sound waves themselves are pressing against your skin, squeezing tighter with each passing second.

Suddenly, the environment feels overwhelmingly loud. Anxiety hits you like a tidal wave, swift and unrelenting as you begin to realize what you wish had just gone over your head: you are alone in a place you’ve never stepped foot on before.

Your heart races, pounding in your chest with such force that you fear it might explode. Every noise seems amplified, and every glance from a passerby feels like a spotlight trained on you. The world around you blurs and narrows into a tunnel vision where only the threat of being watched remains clear.

Your breaths become shallow, rapid, and each inhale feels like it barely reaches your lungs. You place a trembling hand on your chest, trying to ground yourself, but it only seems to make the panic more palpable. Your throat tightens, making it hard to swallow, and a cold sweat breaks out on your forehead. Tears well up, stinging your eyes as the sense of doom takes hold.

Your legs feel unsteady, almost as if they might give out beneath you at any moment. The crowd seems to close in, the once little groups of people now a suffocating mass. The world around you distorts, sounds warping into an unintelligible hum. You feel disconnected from your body, as if you’re watching yourself from a distance, helpless to stop the panic that courses through you.

Just as you begin to take a step back, desperate to escape, you collide with something solid. It’s a person’s back, and when you turn, you see the broad figure of a man wearing a black fitted turtleneck. You’re about to flee, but he turns, his expression initially one of surprise.

“Oh, sorry—”

Then recognition dawns on both your faces. It’s the young man from the observatory. He sees the panic in your eyes, the hand clutching at your heart, the tears threatening to spill over. His face softens, concern replacing surprise, and he steps closer, his presence grounding in the midst of your chaos.

“Hey, are you okay?” His voice is a lifeline.

You can’t trust yourself to speak, so you just shake your head, eyes wide and pleading. For a moment, you catch a glimpse of the expression you held on your reflection on the lens of his glasses, and it drives you into despair even further.

He cautiously steps even closer, his voice low and soothing. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You're safe. Just breathe with me, alright? In and out.”

He starts to breathe slowly and deeply, demonstrating for you. At first, it’s hard to match his calm rhythm, but focusing on his steady breaths helps. Gradually, your own breathing slows, deepens, the frantic pounding in your chest easing slightly.

He keeps his gaze locked on yours, his voice a constant, comforting murmur. “You’re doing great. Just keep breathing.”

The world begins to settle back into place. The noise recedes, and the faces in the crowd become less threatening. Your breaths come easier, the tightness in your chest loosening its grip. Tears that were on the brink of falling retreat, leaving your eyes wet but no longer overflowing.

His eyes remain warm, filled with genuine concern. “Do you want to sit down for a bit?” he suggests, certain that you needed a little more time to calm down. You hesitate for a moment, then nod in agreement.

He leads you to a nearby bench, his presence bringing a somewhat calming aura as he sits beside you. He tries to engage you in small talk, attempting to distract you from your overwhelming thoughts. “So, what brings you to the park today?” he asks gently.

You fiddle with your fingers on your lap, grateful for the normalcy of the question and the fact that he seems to be trying to distract you from your thoughts.

“I followed your advice from that night at the observatory,” you explain. “You talked about making the most of the time I have left by trying out new things. I remembered that and decided to come here.”

He looks genuinely surprised. “Really? I didn’t expect you to remember that, let alone follow it.”

You offer a small nod. “This morning, I was feeling down, and your words just came to me. That’s when I decided to come here. But I wasn’t expecting it to be so… hard. I’ve barely been here thirty minutes and I already had an anxiety attack.”

His expression softens with understanding. “It’s completely normal to feel that way. Huge crowds can be really overwhelming, especially if you’re not used to them.”

He pauses, sensing there’s more to your anxiety but refrains from pressing further. Instead, he offers a supportive presence, hoping you’ll share only what you’re comfortable with. To his surprise, you continue.

“I’ve never been to the park before,” you admit, your voice a whisper. “I’ve been mostly isolated my entire life.”

His curiosity is piqued, but he respects your boundaries. He nods, his eyes reflecting empathy. “That must be really tough,” he says softly. “I can’t even imagine.”

There’s a moment of silence, comfortable and filled with unspoken understanding. For once, you don’t feel the need to fill the conversation—just his presence was enough.

“You know,” he begins, looking out at the park with a contemplative expression, “the first time I went to a new place by myself, I felt pretty overwhelmed too. It was nowhere near what you’re going through, but I get a bit of what it’s like to be surrounded by so much and feel so alone.”

You appreciate his effort to relate, to connect. It’s a small comfort, but it matters. “Thank you,” you say quietly. “For being here, and… for understanding.”

He smiles, the kind that reaches his eyes and warms you from the inside. “Anytime. And remember, everyone starts small. You’re doing great just by being here.”

Silence fills the air for a few seconds, allowing the tranquility of the park to envelop you both. Then, a thought surfaces, nudging you gently. “You know…” you begin, turning slightly towards him, “I still don’t know your name.”

His face lights up with a shy smile. “Oh, right. I guess I forgot to introduce myself properly. My name is San. Choi San.”

“San,” you repeat, letting the name roll off your lips. “Like the mountain.”

He laughs, a soft and endearing sound. “Yeah, exactly like the mountain. You’re not the first to make that connection,” he says with a grin, a hint of a blush creeping up his cheeks.

The wind rustles the leaves in the trees, carrying with it the distant sounds of laughter and conversation. You sit there, feeling a strange mix of relief and curiosity. San’s enthusiasm for life and his kindness provide a stark contrast to the isolation and fear that have been your constant companions.

“San,” you say again, more to yourself than to him, feeling the name claim a place for itself in your mind. There’s something grounding about it, something that makes you feel a little more connected to the world around you.

In an attempt to keep the discussion going and to distract yourself from what happened earlier, you decide to ask him what he asked you earlier.

"So, what brings you to the park today?" you inquire, your curiosity genuine.

San leans back slightly, looking around as if the park itself might answer. “I often come here to clear my head or unwind, especially when I'm going through something. It’s like a little sanctuary for me. Being out here helps me calm down and gather my thoughts.”

You wish you weren’t so afraid of being by yourself in huge crowds. If only you could do the same as San, finding solace in a place like this without feeling overwhelmed.

“What do you like about the park? Why does it bring you comfort?” you ask, and he smiles, a faraway look in his eyes.

“There’s something about the openness of it all. The way the trees rustle, the sound of children laughing, the way the sunlight filters through the leaves. It’s grounding. It reminds me that there’s more to life than the stress and the noise. It’s a place where I can just be.”

“You really seem to have a deep connection with a lot of things. First, astronomy, and now, nature,” you remark, a hint of admiration in your voice.

San nods, his eyes reflecting the sunlight filtering through the trees. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. It’s always been a place where I can reset and remind myself of the bigger picture. For me, nature has this way of putting everything into perspective.”

It was a fascinating sight to see, in a way. Spending all your hours within the confines of your home and being imprisoned by your own fate for pretty much all the years you’ve spent in this world has proved to be something that had imprinted a huge impact in the way you live, because even seeing passion being radiated by people is enough to elicit genuine surprise from you.

So this is what being in a world outside of yours is like.

So this is what seeing things in a perspective different from the one you’re holding is like.

So this is what not being you is like.

You look around, trying to see the park through his eyes. “I wish I could feel that way. Most of the time, I just feel... overwhelmed.”

San looks at you with understanding. “It’s okay to feel that way. Everyone has their own journey. What matters is that you’re trying. Coming here today was a big step, and it’s a good start.”

You nod, feeling a bit reassured. “Thank you. I guess I just have to take it one step at a time, huh?”

“Exactly,” San agrees, his voice encouraging. “And remember, it’s okay to take breaks and ask for help when you need it. You’re not alone.”

His words resonate with you, and for the first time in a while, you feel a glimmer of hope. It’s small, but it’s there, nevertheless. “Maybe I’ll try to come here more often, see if it helps.”

San smiles warmly. “I think that’s a great idea. Who knows, maybe one day you’ll find as much peace here as I do.”

You sit in comfortable silence for a while, watching the park come to life around you. The chaos that felt suffocating earlier now seems a bit more manageable, with San’s presence providing comfort.

As the conversation winds down, you feel a sense of gratitude. “Thank you, San. For everything. I didn’t think talking to a stranger could make such a difference.”

San chuckles softly. “Sometimes, a fresh perspective is all we need. And, well, we’re not really strangers anymore, are we?”

You offer him a small smile, feeling a connection forming. “I guess not.”

As the sun begins to set, casting a warm orange glow over the park, you look at San and say, “I should probably ask my father to come pick me up.”

San nods, stretching a bit after adjusting his glasses. “Yeah, I should head home too. My cat is probably wondering where I am.”

Your curiosity is piqued despite your earlier intention to leave. “Oh, you have a cat?” you ask.

“Yeah,” San replies with a smile. “Her name is Byeol, she’s a Siamese cat.” He pulls out his phone and shows you a picture of her. Byeol is a strikingly beautiful cat with piercing blue eyes and a sleek, cream-colored coat accented with darker points on her ears, face, paws, and tail.

“She’s adorable,” you say, admiring the photo. “She looks like a princess.”

San beams with pride. “Right? She’s a handful sometimes, but I wouldn’t trade her for anything. She’s always there when I need her, even if she’s just curling up next to me while I read.”

Just as you’re both caught up in talking about Byeol, you see your father's car pulling up. The sight of him brings you back to reality, reminding you of the time. You turn to San, feeling a bit rushed. “I should go. It was nice talking to you again, San.”

San waves with a smile, a hint of déjà vu in his eyes as he watches you walk away. “Same here. Take care.”

You walk towards your father’s car, your thoughts swirling with the day’s events. As you settle into the passenger seat, your father starts driving and asks, “So, how was your day at the park?”

You decide not to mention your anxiety attack, not wanting to worry him. “Today gave me a piece of a new perspective in life,” you say instead.

Your father glances at you, curiosity etched on his face. “What do you mean by that?”

You glance out the window, gathering your thoughts. “Do you remember the boy from the observatory?”

He nods. “Yes, is he the boy you were sitting with on the bench?”

“Yeah,” You confirm. “We crossed paths again today by accident.”

“Did you spend time together?” your father asks, his interest clearly piqued.

“Well, kind of,” you reply, thinking back to your conversations with San. “We just sat on a bench and talked about things. Nothing special, really. But it felt different. I felt different.”

Your father seems intrigued. “Is that where you got this ‘new perspective’ from?”

“Maybe,” you admit, a small smile forming on your lips. “He has this way of seeing the world that makes it seem... less daunting. More manageable. He talked about finding beauty and meaning even in difficult circumstances, and it just made sense to me.”

Your father looks at you, pride and relief evident in his eyes. “I’m glad to hear that. Sometimes, all it takes is a different viewpoint to make things seem better. And it sounds like this boy has a good influence on you.”

You nod, looking out the window as the scenery passes by. The streets, houses, and trees blend into a comforting blur. You can’t help but think about how much San’s words and presence have impacted you in such a short time. His optimism and the way he embraced life, even with its uncertainties, had struck a chord within you.

At the same time, your curiosity about him couldn’t help but wander around further.

—

Last night, sleep came with a weighty heart, knowing all too well what awaited today. The bright red marker on the calendar hung by your door, circling the dreaded date, was an ever-present reminder of your reality.

Your monthly checkup.

It was never just a routine visit for you. Each trip to the hospital was a stark reminder of the inevitable. The sterile smell of antiseptic, the chill of the air-conditioned rooms, the cold, clinical atmosphere—everything about the hospital filled you with dread. The monthly checkups were less about monitoring your health and more about confronting the slow, inescapable decline. You loathed the look of concern on your parents’ faces, the hushed conversations with your doctor, the heavy sighs and the sympathetic nods. You knew your health was deteriorating, and each visit confirmed what you already feared. And that was what you hated most.

Now, as you sit in the car with your father driving, your mother’s absence due to work commitments is painfully felt. The air is thick with unspoken fears and desperate hopes for some glimmer of good news, though deep down, you all know it’s a futile wish. The treatments, the surgeries—they were all temporary measures, patches over a wound that couldn’t truly heal.

Today, however, feels different.

For the first time, the thought of bad news brings a strange, new fear. Typically, you had accepted your fate with a resigned indifference. What has changed now? Why do you suddenly care so much about the results?

The answer isn’t clear, but you suspect it has something to do with the recent days at the park, the unexpected encounter with San, and his earnest words about finding beauty and meaning in the limited time one has. His encouragement to live, even if it’s just a little bit, seems to have ignited a spark within you—a spark you can’t ignore.

As you watch the scenery blur past, your mind drifts back to those moments at the park. The seed of hope he planted now feels fragile but growing. The hospital looms ahead, an unwelcoming fortress, and you feel your heart tighten as you pull into the parking lot. Your father’s grip on the steering wheel is firm, his knuckles white. He looks at you, offering a strained smile.

“Ready?” he asks, his voice betraying the calm demeanor he tries to project. You nod, though your stomach churns with anxiety. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Together, you walk into the hospital, the familiar antiseptic smell hitting you immediately. The nurse at the reception desk recognizes you and gives a sympathetic nod before leading you to the examination room. You sit on the crinkling paper of the exam table, your father standing beside you, his hand a steadying presence on your shoulder. The doctor enters, clipboard in hand, and offers a professional but warm smile.

“How are we feeling today?” she asks, her tone gentle. “Alright,” you reply, though it feels like a lie that even you can’t bring yourself to believe.

The checkup begins, each procedure a familiar invasion. Your mind is a whirlwind, each step a reminder of your reality. When it’s over, the doctor looks at you with a mix of pity and professionalism before asking your father to step outside. You know what this means. It’s never a good sign when they need to talk privately.

Left alone, the silence is heavy and suffocating. You glance around the room, trying to focus on anything but the conversation happening outside. The sterile instruments, the educational posters on the walls—they all seem like cruel jokes.

Minutes stretch on like hours until your father finally returns. His face is pale, eyes red-rimmed, but he forces a smile. “Let’s head home,” he said softly.

You nodded, feeling your heart sink. Another bad report, another reminder of the inevitable. As you and your father headed toward the exit, a familiar figure caught your eye by the reception desk. He turned his head slightly, and your suspicions were confirmed.

San.

Why was he here? Visiting an ill family member? A friend, perhaps? Or... was he the patient himself?

Before you could delve deeper into your thoughts, your father’s voice pulled you back to reality. “Let’s head home," he repeated gently, and despite your curiosity, you turned your attention away from San and followed your father outside.

On the ride home, the atmosphere in the car was heavy with unspoken dread. You sat in the passenger seat, your eyes fixed on the passing scenery, but your mind was elsewhere, trapped in a whirlpool of anxiety and fear. The hum of the engine and the rhythmic thud of the tires on the asphalt were the only sounds, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside you.

Your father’s silence was louder than any words. His grip on the steering wheel was tight as if desperately trying to hold himself together, and you could see the pain etched in his features. You mustered the courage to ask, your voice coming off as a whisper, “Dad, what did she say?”

He hesitated, and for a moment, you saw the facade he tried so hard to maintain begin to crumble. His eyes welled up with tears, his breath hitching as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. “You… you have a month left to live,” he said slowly, his voice breaking, each word hitting you like a sledgehammer.

Time stopped.

The world held its breath.

And so did you.

The world outside the car ceased to exist, reduced to a blur of colors and shapes. The weight of his words pressed down on you, suffocating and inescapable. A month. Just one month left. Four weeks. Thirty days. The enormity of it was paralyzing.

Your mind went blank, your father’s quiet sobs becoming a distant, muffled sound. You stared at your lap, your hands clenched into fists, knuckles turning white. Your breaths came in short, shallow gasps, as if the very air around you had turned to lead.

No, no, no. This can’t be. This can’t be.

“I’m so, so sorry, darling…” your father whispered, his voice choked with emotion. The raw pain in his words shattered the fragile dam holding back your tears, and you felt your heart splinter into a thousand pieces.

When you pulled into the driveway, the house loomed ahead, a familiar sight now tainted with a sense of finality. Your mother stood by the door, her face a mask of worry and sorrow. She had been crying; her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks streaked with dried tears. It seems as if your father had already informed her about it right after his conversation with your doctor. As you stepped out of the car, the last vestiges of your composure crumbled.

You ran to her, needing the comfort of her embrace. She opened her arms wide, gathering you into a tight hug. You buried your face in her shoulder, the sobs wracking your body as she held you close, her chin resting on your forehead. One hand gently rubbed your back in soothing circles, while the other cradled your head, fingers tangled in your hair.

“It’s going to be alright,” she murmured, her voice trembling. But you both knew it was a lie. There was no alright, no miracle waiting around the corner. Just the cruel march of time, slipping away faster than you could grasp.

Inside the house, the usual warmth felt hollow, a stark reminder of the fleeting moments you had left. The living room, once a sanctuary, now felt like a cage. Your father’s footsteps echoed in the hallway as he followed you in, his presence a silent testament to the shared grief weighing down on your family.

You slumped onto the couch, the weight of the news pressing down on you, making it hard to breathe. Your mother sat beside you, her arm around your shoulders, offering silent support. Your father joined you, sitting on the other side, his hand resting gently on yours.

“We’ll get through this,” he said softly, though his voice betrayed the uncertainty in his heart. You nodded, but the words felt empty, a hollow echo in the face of an unforgiving reality.

The room fell into a heavy silence, each of you lost in your thoughts. The clock on the wall ticked steadily, an unwelcome reminder of the time slipping away. You wished you could stop it, freeze this moment and hold on to the fragile threads of hope that still lingered.

But deep down, you knew the truth. Your time was running out, and there was nothing you could do to change it.

When night falls, you find yourself in a familiar situation, sitting on your bed while gazing at the stars outside. Somehow, they still provide a sense of comfort, even if it’s slowly starting to dim. An hour ago, when you went to your room to “sleep,” you heard the muffled cries of your parents the moment you shut the door behind you. Instead of heading to your bed, you stayed there by the door, ear pressed against it, listening to their helpless sobs.

The sound was unbearable. It wasn’t just the sadness in their voices; it was the raw, visceral pain, the sense of impending loss. It cut through you like a knife. You couldn’t handle hearing them cry. You couldn’t handle making their suffering even worse.

You had to rid yourself of them before it got worse on their behalf.

So here you are now. Minutes ago, you were just stargazing, but now, half your figure is outside your window. Carefully, you sneak out of your room, making sure to avoid any noise as you slip past the gates. You look back at your home once more, and your heart shatters. You hold back your sobs, then you make a run for it, not daring to look back.

Your bare feet pound against the ground, the sharp edges of the tiny stones biting into your skin. Each step hurts, but you keep running. The pain is nothing compared to the torment in your heart. Nothing else is on your mind but to run, run, run.

The night was cold, the chill air stinging your face as you eventually found yourself standing on the edge of the cliff. Tears streamed down your cheeks, mingling with the sweat from your frantic run. The city lights below twinkled like distant stars, mocking the darkness that had enveloped your heart. Each breath was a struggle, each sob a dagger in your chest

You thought of your parents, the look of devastation in their eyes when the doctor had delivered the news. You thought of the pain you had caused them, the weight of their sorrow pressing down on you like a physical force. How could you continue to be the source of their suffering?

Your mind raced with thoughts of escape, of ending the agony for everyone involved. You imagined the relief on their faces when they no longer had to watch you fade away. It seemed like the only way to free them from this nightmare.

As you stood there, teetering on the edge, you closed your eyes, ready to take the final step. But before you could, a strong hand grabbed your wrist, yanking you back from the brink. You gasped, eyes flying open, and found yourself pulled into the firm embrace of a familiar figure.

San’s arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly. His chest heaved with the exertion of his run to catch you, his breath hot against your ear. “What are you doing?” he demanded, his voice a mix of fear and desperation.

You couldn’t find the words to respond, your body trembling uncontrollably. He didn’t let go, his grip tightening as if afraid you might slip away. The reality of what you had almost done hit you like a tidal wave, and the sobs you had been holding back broke free, wracking your body.

San slowly took steps back, ensuring you were safely away from the edge of the cliff. You clung to him, sobbing into his chest. “There’s no point, San,” you cried, your voice broken. “There’s no point in living. I can’t. I can’t do this anymore—please, I just... I need to end it all...”

San’s heart ached at your words. He tightened his hold on you, trying to infuse his strength into your frail, trembling body. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here,” he whispered, his voice soothing, attempting to anchor you in the present. “Let’s sit down, okay?”

He gently guided you to sit down, and you didn’t protest, your soul and body too numb to resist. He sat beside you, keeping a firm arm around your shoulders, rubbing your back in slow, calming circles. The silence between you was thick with emotion, but he was patient, waiting for you to find your voice.

After a few minutes, you took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, San,” you whisper, and he leans in closer because he can’t hear you. “I don’t think I can still find it in me to believe in the existence of hope anymore.”

He looked at you with concern. “What’s wrong? What do you mean by that?”

You turned to him, your eyes filled with unshed tears. “I have a month left.”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “A month left? What do you mean?”

With a deep breath, you revealed the truth. “I’m diagnosed with a terminal disease, San. I’m cursed.”

San’s eyes widened in shock. “What? No, that can’t be...” His voice trailed off, the weight of your words settling in.

“I’ve known for my entire life,” you continued, your voice trembling. “But today, the doctor told my parents that I only have a month left to live. I don’t know how to keep going, knowing that my time is so limited.”

“I’ve always felt different, San. Since birth, I’ve been living with this disease, and it feels like I’m on borrowed time. Every single day, I wake up knowing that my life is on a countdown, and it’s exhausting. I can’t let myself be happy because I’m terrified that if I do, it’ll be snatched away from me. It’s like there’s this invisible barrier between me and the rest of the world. I see people finding joy in the simplest things, and I can’t. I just can’t.”

San’s eyes are filled with empathy and sorrow as he listens, his hand never leaving your shoulder. You take a deep breath and continue, the words coming faster now, as if a dam inside you has finally broken.

“I feel like such a burden to my parents. They don’t say it, but I know. Every hospital visit, every new medication, every surgery—it’s like I’m a constant reminder of the life they could have had without me. I’ve seen the fear and worry in their eyes every time we talk to the doctors. It’s like a knife twisting in my heart every single time. I hate seeing them suffer because of me. I hate that my existence is a source of pain for them.”

Your voice trembles with the weight of your emotions, but you push on, needing to get it all out.

“I can’t do normal things like everyone else. I’ve missed out on so much because of this illness. School, friends, just going out and having fun—none of that has ever been normal for me. I’ve been isolated for most of my life, and it’s so lonely. I watch from the sidelines as life goes on without me, and it hurts… it hurts so much.”

Tears begin to flow freely down your cheeks, and you don’t bother wiping them away. San’s grip on your shoulder tightens, offering silent support.

“I feel guilty for wanting to be happy. Every time I see my parents smile, I feel like I’m taking that away from them because of my condition. I feel like I’m stealing their chance at a normal, happy life. I wish I could just disappear and take all their pain with me. I wish I could give them a break from all this suffering. So, that’s why I…”

You pause to catch your breath, the weight of your words pressing down on you. San remains silent, his eyes never leaving yours, his presence grounding you. The sobs come harder now, your body shaking with the force of your emotions. San pulls you closer, wrapping you in a warm, comforting embrace. His presence feels like a lifeline.

“I’ve tried so hard to be strong, to put on a brave face for them. But it's getting harder and harder. I’m so tired, San. I’m so, so tired. And the worst part is, I feel like I don’t even have the right to be tired. There are so many people who have it worse than me, and I feel guilty for feeling this way. But I can’t help it. I’m scared. I’m so scared.”

Your voice cracks, and you finally let go, crying freely into San’s arms. He holds you tighter, his hand gently rubbing your back in soothing circles.

“I just want to be normal. I want to live a life without fear, without pain. I want to be able to laugh without worrying about what comes next. But I can’t. And it’s killing me inside.”

San holds you as your sobs shake his chest, waiting until your breaths slow and the storm of your emotions begins to calm. He doesn’t rush to speak; he knows there are no quick fixes for what you're going through. When he does finally speak, his voice is soft and raw with emotion.

“I don’t have any magic words to make this better,” he begins. “I can’t pretend to understand the depth of what you’re going through. No one can, except you. What you’re feeling is valid, and it’s okay to be angry, sad, and scared. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

He pauses, letting the weight of his words settle in. “Oftentimes, life is incredibly unfair. It’s okay to acknowledge that. You’ve been dealt a really tough hand, and it’s not right or fair. But... you’re still here, aren’t you? And that means something. I’m proud of you for it.”

San’s grip on you tightens slightly, a gesture of reassurance. “You’ve been carrying this burden for so long, feeling like you have to be strong for everyone else. But you don’t have to do it alone. It’s okay to let people in, to let them help you carry the weight. Your parents, they love you, alright? They don’t see you as a burden. They see you as their precious child, someone they’d do anything for. They’re suffering because they can’t take away your pain, not because you’re causing it.”

You unconsciously nuzzle into his embrace a little more, the low vibrations from his chest as he spoke sending warmth throughout your troubled soul. “I know it’s hard to believe in hope right now. And maybe that’s not what you need at this moment. Maybe what you need is to just let yourself go. To let yourself feel everything you’re feeling without judgment. To let yourself grieve for the life you’ve missed and the dreams you feel slipping away. That’s okay. It’s okay to mourn those losses.”

San’s eyes meet yours, filled with sincerity and care. “You’ve been fighting so hard, and it’s okay to admit that you’re tired. It’s okay to ask for help. It’s okay to be vulnerable. You’re human, and humans aren’t meant to carry these kinds of burdens alone.”

He lets the silence stretch, allowing his words to sink in. “If there’s one thing I want you to remember, it’s that your life has a meaning. Not because of what you can or can’t do, but because of who you are. The way you’ve touched the lives of those around you, the strength you’ve shown just by getting through each day—those things matter. You matter.”

You look at him through tear-blurred eyes, his words striking chords deep within your heart. “But what if I can’t keep going?” you whisper, your voice trembling.

San’s expression softens even further, and in his eyes, you see a reflection of the determination and care you’ve been too exhausted to summon for yourself. “Then we take it one day at a time. One moment at a time. And when it gets too hard, we lean on each other. I’ll be here, as much as you need me to be. We’ll face this together, okay? You don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

We.

You pull back slightly, meeting San’s eyes with a questioning look. “Why are you so adamant about giving me these sincere, deep words? Why do you care so much about making me feel validated?”

A hint of sadness flickers in his eyes. “Because I know how it feels to watch something in your life slowly fade away, unable to do anything about it. It’s not the same as what you’re going through, but I get the gist of it.”

You tilt your head, curiosity piqued. “What do you mean by that?”

San lets out a soft sigh, gathering his thoughts. “Have I ever told you what else I was passionate about before I fully shifted my focus to astronomy?” he asks. You shake your head silently, eager to hear more.

“Well, besides my fascination with the stars, I used to love playing the piano. Not a single day went by without me playing it. During the day, I’d spend hours at the piano, and at night, I’d lose myself in the sky. Music was everything to me. I loved the way each note could convey a world of emotions, how a simple melody could touch hearts and tell stories.”

San’s eyes light up with the memory, a small smile forming on his lips. “There was something magical about the way my fingers danced across the keys, creating harmonies that felt like they were coming straight from my soul. The piano was my escape, my sanctuary. When I played, the world around me would fade away, and it was just me and the music. I felt connected to something greater, something pure and beautiful.”

You nod, imagining a younger San with a passion for music as vibrant as his love for the stars. “So… why did you drop that passion?” you ask softly.

San's gaze shifts to the distance, his voice taking on a heavy tone. “It’s not easy to hold onto a passion for something you know you’re going to lose the ability to fully experience.”

Confusion clouds your expression, urging him to continue.

He sighs, a heavy breath escaping his lips. “When I was a teenager, I was diagnosed with a condition that would eventually lead to complete deafness. It’s progressive, meaning my hearing would deteriorate gradually over time until it was completely gone. Knowing that, knowing I’d one day lose the ability to hear the music I loved, it broke me. Playing the piano started to feel like a cruel reminder of what I was losing.”

So that’s why you saw him at the hospital by the reception weeks ago.

San’s words hang in the air, each one sinking deep into your heart. The weight of his experience, his loss, mirrors the feelings you’ve been grappling with—you weren’t far different from each other, it turns out.

“I remember the day I found out,” San continues, his voice tainted with a deep sadness. “The doctor sat me down and explained that my hearing would gradually decline until I couldn’t hear anything at all. I was devastated. It felt like my entire world was crumbling around me. The thought of never being able to hear the music that had been such a vital part of my life was unbearable. I cried for days, maybe weeks. I didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to accept that something I loved so much could be taken away from me.”

He pauses, collecting himself. “So then, I stopped playing the piano. Every time I sat down to play, all I could think about was the silence that awaited me. It was too painful to face. I felt like a part of me was dying, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

You look at him, seeing a reflection of your own struggle in his story. “How did you keep going, knowing that?” you ask in a soft tone similar to the one he uses all the time whenever he’s talking to you. “How did you overcome that and stay so… positive?”

San’s smile is bittersweet, filled with a resilience that you find both inspiring and heartbreaking. “By finding new ways to connect with the world. At first, it was incredibly hard. I felt lost and hopeless. But I realized that I couldn’t let my condition define me. I had to find other things that brought me joy and fulfillment. That’s when I turned to the stars. The universe is vast and endless, filled with mysteries and wonders that don’t rely on one sense alone. It gave me hope and a way to cope with my reality.”

He takes a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. “I also learned to lean on the people around me. I talked to the people I held close to my heart about my fears and struggles, and their support made a huge difference. I allowed myself to grieve what I was losing, but I also focused on appreciating what I still had. And as time went on, I found a new sense of purpose in helping others who were going through their own battles. Sometimes, just knowing you’re not alone can make all the difference.”

San’s gaze softens, and he takes your hand gently in his. “And to answer your question earlier, the reason why I genuinely want to help you is because I know what it’s like to feel lost and alone. And because I believe that even in the darkest times, there’s still a flicker of light. You deserve to find that light, to feel that hope. And if my words can help you see that, then it’s worth it.”

A flicker of light.

“Do you think you’ll ever reconsider picking up the piano again?” you ask, a hint of curiosity in your voice.

San shrugs lightly, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe someday, but in the meantime, I don’t really want to do that. For now, I’m content with my memories. Besides, I’ve found new passions to focus on.” His tone is casual, but there’s a hint of lingering sadness. In an attempt to lighten the mood, he asks, “Why? Do you have a favorite piece you’d like to hear me play?”

A soft smile appears on your lips as you respond, “My favorite piece is Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2.”

San’s eyes light up with recognition and delight. “Really? That’s also my favorite piece to play back when I was a child,” he says, his smile widening.

Seeing San’s happiness brings you a sense of joy you haven’t felt for pretty much almost your entire life. His enthusiasm is infectious, and you realize that his happiness has a profound impact on your own mood.

Wanting to delve deeper into that positivity, you decide to ask him more about his passion for playing the piano. “Can you tell me more about your time playing the piano?” you ask, your curiosity piqued.

He raises an eyebrow, surprised but pleased by your interest. “Are you sure about that?” he asks, a gentle smile on his lips.

You nod eagerly. “Yes, I’m sure. Tell me anything about it. Your favorite memories, your love for music, all about it.”

San’s expression softens, and he takes a moment to gather his thoughts. “Alright,” he begins, his voice carrying a nostalgic tone. “Well, I started playing the piano when I was around five years old. My parents noticed I had a natural inclination towards music, always humming tunes or tapping rhythms with my fingers. So, they got me a small keyboard to play around with, and tell you what—I fell in love with it.”

He pauses, a wistful smile on his face as he recalls the memory. “I remember the first time I played a complete piece. It was ‘Für Elise’ by Beethoven. My hands were so small, barely able to reach all the keys, but the feeling of bringing music to life was incredible.”

You listen intently, drawn into his story. “What other pieces did you love to play?”

San’s eyes light up. “Oh, there were so many. ‘Moonlight Sonata,’ ‘Clair de Lune,’ and of course, ‘Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2.’ Each piece had its own story, its own emotions. Playing them was like telling a tale without words.”

He hums to himself, his expression turning more reflective. “But it wasn’t just about playing the notes correctly. It was about feeling the music, letting it flow through me. There were times I’d lose myself completely, hours passing by without me even noticing.”

His enthusiasm is palpable, and you find yourself smiling. “What’s your favorite memory associated with the piano?” you ask.

San’s smile widens. “There was this one time, during a school recital. I was about ten years old, and I played ‘Rhapsody in Blue’ by Gershwin. It was a challenging piece, but I’d practiced for weeks. When I finished, the applause was deafening. My parents were in the front row, beaming with pride. That moment felt like magic, like I was on top of the world.”

His eyes sparkle with the memory, and you can’t help but feel his joy. “That sounds amazing,” you say softly.

“It was,” he agrees, his tone warm. “Music was my escape, my solace. It was where I could express myself fully, without fear or judgment. Even now, though I can’t play as I used to, those memories bring me comfort.”

You nod, finding yourself feeling gravely touched by his experiences. “Thank you for sharing that with me, San. It means a lot.”

San’s smile is gentle, as always. “And thank you for listening. Revisiting those memories every once in a while helps me remember the beauty in life despite its challenges.”

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you remember something you probably should have asked earlier. “Hey… what were you doing here tonight, anyway?”

He chuckles, looking out at the night sky. “This place is my little escape. It’s another spot I go to when I need to clear my head. The park is great during the day, but this cliff... it has a clear view of the night sky, and you know how much I love astronomy. It’s windy, peaceful, and quiet here. No one else knows about this place—well, except for you now.”

He pauses, then adds with a playful grin, “I guess this is now a place only the two of us know.”

San checks his phone and sees the time: 3 AM. He turns to you, concern evident in his eyes. “It’s getting really late,” he says gently, his voice a soft whisper in the quiet night. “We should probably head home. The streets aren’t really the kindest at this hour. It’s not safe to stay out much longer.”

As his words sink in, reality sets in as well. You suddenly realize you ran here without considering how you would get back home. Embarrassment washes over you, and you look down at your bare feet, feeling foolish. “I... I don’t actually know the way back home. I just ran here without thinking,” you admit, your voice small and filled with regret.

San’s reassuring smile does little to ease your embarrassment, but it does bring some comfort. “I figured as much,” he says, glancing at your bare feet and nightclothes. “Do you know your parents’ phone number?”

“Yeah, why?” you ask, puzzled and a bit hesitant.“I’ll call them for you,” San replies. “You can explain everything to them. It’s safer this way.”

Panic rises within you, your mind racing with the possible reactions your parents might have. “No, no—I can't. They don’t know I ran away. They might be awake, looking for me. I just…” you trail off, your voice carrying a hint of guilt.

Sensing your fear, San places a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch calming. “It’s okay,” he reassures you. “I know the decision you made wasn’t the best, but it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. Your safety is what’s important right now. If your parents are upset, it’ll pass. Their primary concern will be getting you home safely. Trust me.”

His calm demeanor and understanding words slowly convince you. Reluctantly, you take his phone and dial your mother’s number, your hands shaking slightly. Almost immediately, she picks up. “Mom…?”

You can hear the worry in her voice as she asks, “Oh my, oh my—darling! Where are you? Are you okay? Are you safe? Where did you run off to?”

“Mom, please calm down. I’m safe,” you say, trying to soothe her. “I’m about to head home now.”

“Okay, okay… where are you?” she repeats, her voice thick with concern and a touch of desperation. “I’m with San,” you say, hoping the name brings some comfort and reassurance.

“San?” your mother echoes, confused and worried.Your father, who is also listening in, seems to recognize the name. “San, the boy from the observatory and the park?” he asks, his tone shifting from worry to recognition.

San leans in, speaking into the phone with a calm and respectful voice. “Hello, Ma’am, Sir. Yes, it's me. I’m with your daughter, and she’s safe, please don’t worry. I’ll take her home now.”

Your parents express their gratitude, their relief palpable through the phone. “Thank you so much, dear. Please be safe,” your mother says before hanging up, her voice filled with gratitude and relief.

You look at San, a mix of gratitude and confusion on your face. “San, you don’t have to take me home, really. You’ve done more than enough by just being here. I can—”

He cuts you off with a small smile on his lips. “I insist. There’s no way I’ll let you walk home with bare, bruised feet. And you did mention earlier that you don’t even know where this place is, let alone how you got here. So let me, okay? Don’t stress yourself out.”

You find yourself in awe with how he was able to shut your mild stubbornness down in a way so gentle as if he was trying to explain to a kid why inserting a fork in an outlet isn’t a good thing to do. So, without a word, you just nod.

As you both stand up, San notices you shiver slightly. Without a second thought, he slips off his dark brown leather jacket and gently drapes it over your shoulders, revealing the plain black shirt he wore underneath.

“But what about you?” You ask, glancing at his now bare arms. “Won’t you get cold?” San shakes his head, offering a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about me. You need it more than I do right now.”

You nod, pulling the jacket tighter around yourself. Just as you’re about to take a step, a sharp pain shoots through your foot, causing you to hiss in discomfort.

San’s eyes immediately drop to your bare, bruised feet. “Let me help,” he says softly. Turning his back to you, he crouches down slightly. “Hop on,” he urges.

You hesitate, feeling a bit shy about the whole situation. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a burden.” San looks over his shoulder, his eyes filled with gentle insistence. “I’m sure. It’s the best way to keep your feet from getting worse.”

Reluctantly, you wrap your arms around his neck, and he lifts you effortlessly. As he starts walking down the cliff, he moves with deliberate care, making sure each step is steady and safe.

“Where do you live?” he asks once you’ve reached the flat ground of the unfamiliar streets. He nods in recognition when you give him your address, thankful that he knows where the street is. The walk is silent but not uncomfortable. The night air is cool and the city is quiet, offering a moment of calm after the chaos.

As he continues walking, his pace steady and sure, you start to feel your eyelids grow heavy. Exhaustion from the night’s events begins to take over, and before you know it, you’ve fallen asleep, your head resting against his shoulder. San notices your soft snores and adjusts his steps to be even more careful, as he wants to make sure you get the rest you clearly need.

When San reaches your street, he notices a worried couple near your house. Drawing closer, he recognizes your parents, who, in turn, recognize him. Their faces flood with relief as they rush toward him, tears streaming down their cheeks.

“Oh, thank you, thank you so, so much,” your mother sobs, her voice thick with emotion. “You kept her safe. We can’t thank you enough.”

San offers a gentle smile and carefully shifts to let your father lift you from his back. Your father cradles you tenderly, carrying you inside with palpable relief. Your mother and San remain outside, just by the door.

“Where did you find her?” your mother asks, her voice still trembling. San takes a moment before replying, “I found her stargazing at a cliff I visit every night to unwind.”

Your mother nods, understanding. “I woke up with a terrible feeling. When I went to check on her, she was gone, and the window was open. I was so scared she might do something... drastic. She’s been in so much pain, especially after the news today. Knowing she only has a month left... it’s unbearable. I just want to give her a life without worries, but I feel so helpless.”

She holds back a sob, her eyes welling with tears. “I love her so much. She’s my whole world. Seeing her suffer like this, knowing there’s nothing I can do to take her pain away... it breaks me. Every day, I wish I could trade places with her, take away her illness, her pain. But I can’t, and it’s the most helpless feeling in the world. I try to stay strong for her, to show her how much I care, but sometimes I wonder if it’s enough. If she truly knows how much she means to us, how much we would do anything to see her happy, healthy. I wake up every night fearing for her, praying for a miracle, wishing she could live the life she deserves. It’s just... so hard."

San listens intently, his heart aching with empathy as he absorbs your mother’s words. He sees the deep lines of worry etched into her face, the way her hands tremble slightly with emotion—and it brought him a sense of pain knowing he’s now aware of the intensity of the pain both sides of your family felt.

“Your daughter is incredibly strong,” he begins softly. “I know it must be hard to see it sometimes, especially with everything she’s been through. But the fact that she continues to wake up each day, to face her illness and all the pain it brings, says so much about her spirit. Despite all the reasons she has to give up, she’s still here. She’s fighting a battle most of us can't even begin to understand.”

He pauses, glancing towards your bedroom window that your father had now shut close. “There’s a resilience in her that’s rare. Even tonight, when she felt lost and overwhelmed, she found her way to a place that brought her comfort—the stars. That takes a kind of inner strength and determination that not many people have.”

San looks back at your mother, his gaze empathetic and earnest. “And it’s clear where she gets that strength from. She’s had you and her father by her side, showing her what it means to love unconditionally, to fight for those you care about. That kind of support and love is powerful. It gives her the foundation she needs to keep going, even when things seem impossible.”

“Your daughter is a testament to the human spirit’s capacity for endurance. She’s facing something that would break many, yet she’s still standing. And that’s not something to take lightly. It’s something to be incredibly proud of.”

San’s words hang in the air, filled with sincerity and respect. Your mother looks at him, tears still glistening in her eyes, but now there’s a spark of hope and recognition. She nods slowly, understanding the depth of what he’s saying.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice choked with emotion. “Thank you for seeing her strength, for being there when she needed someone. It means more than you could ever know.”

San gives a small, reassuring smile. “It’s the least I could do. She’s an extraordinary person, and she deserves to know just how remarkable she is.”

—

The concept of unwinding has never been one to be easy to grasp for you.

You’ve been told it doesn’t hurt to try countless times, but the truth is that it does. It does hurt, and it hurts like a poisonous rose thorn piercing right through your heart. You’ve tried. You’ve tried to forget about the impending doom surrounding your life whenever you feel like it’s what has to be done in order to uplift your spirits, whether temporarily or not. You’ve tried to find it in you to make an effort to light up a dusty torch of hope in the middle of the void of despair. You’ve tried to focus on what you have now rather than dwelling over what you’ll have left in the future.

Why? Because it works for everyone else. The saying that goes “you only live once” is enough to push them to test the waters of their limits and fly beyond their borderlines. The thought of an opportunity no longer passing by once they ignore it when it first shows up is enough to knock it into their heads that they need to make the most of what they’re being given now, knowing they might never be able to have it again. But for you? Nothing has ever worked out well.

Until you met Choi San, at least.

Ever since he first spoke to you about facts regarding this year’s meteor shower sounding like a stuck-up science professor who’s a little in too deep with his profession for everyone’s liking, changes in the way your world spins have occured. Changes that were so subtle you’ve failed to notice it until they were all piled on top of each other—much like the slow process of a build-up of a painting that starts off with weird brush strokes you’d think wouldn’t look good if put together at first.

At first, his words were like bullets trying to make their way through a bulletproof vest. If anything, at some point, you even wondered if he was out—whether of his mind or of touch with reality—because surely a person cannot be that motivated to seek positivity in a world so cruel.

But as seconds turned into minutes, minutes into hours, hours into days, days into weeks, the process of it all passes by like a blur and the next thing you knew was you were curious of the bliss of hope enough to wish you could dip at least a finger into his universe, just to see how your life could’ve been, had you not been so adamant to avoid optimism like it’s the plague.

Then one thing led to another, and now you’re unsure whether you want his world or want to be in his world.

Which is precisely why you’re now sitting on an all too familiar bench at the park in hopes of catching a glimpse of the person that pulled you into coming here.

You no longer trust yourself enough to wander off all alone again because you know what happened the last time you tried to commit such a thing. So then, you sit here, silently waiting, even with no guarantee that he’ll magically show up. He could be anywhere—another town, another place, maybe even sleeping. But at this point, it no longer matters much to you. You’ve come to see him as a guiding light, and you want to bask in his radiance as much as possible.

Lost in your thoughts, you’re jolted back to reality by a voice calling your name. Looking up, you see San approaching. “San,” you say, your tone coming off perhaps a little too cheerful than what you wanted to let on. As you shift to make room for him beside you, he sits down, a reassuring presence in the quiet of the morning. “What brings you here?” he asks, curiosity evident in his eyes.

You offer a small smile, one that you’re certain was enough to mask up your blatant lie of a reason. “You mentioned this was a place you come to clear your mind. I thought I’d give it a try, too.”

San’s expression softens, his heart melting at your words. “Is it working so far?” You glance around, feeling a sense of peace you hadn’t quite expected. “Yeah, it is,” you admit, meeting his gaze.

San grins. “You know, I also mentioned that I sometimes try new things to unwind.” You tilt your head, intrigued. “Yeah…?” you trailed off, sensing that there was a catch to his words.

He shrugs, looking around the park. “I mean, you could try that out as well, don’t you think?” he says. His smile became even wider as he gave the suggestion, the shape of his eyes turning into thin crescents, and it reminds you of a cat yawning.

“Ice skating, pottery painting, going to the arcade,” he begins, listing activities with genuine enthusiasm. “Maybe even visiting museums and just exploring different parts of the city.”

Your eyes widen slightly as you consider the possibilities. “That sounds... fun,” you say, a bit surprised at your own interest.

“It really is,” San assures you. “And it might help you find something you enjoy, something that gives you a break from everything.”

And that’s exactly how you spent the following days.

The morning after your not-so-coincidental meeting at the park, San showed up at your parents’ house to get their permission to take you ice skating. You were still asleep when he arrived, so you were completely unaware of his plan. When you finally woke up and went downstairs, you found San chatting happily with your parents in the living room. Letting out a startled shriek, you bolted back to your room, convinced you were hallucinating.

Three gentle knocks came from the other side of your door. “Hey, it’s just me,” San’s familiar voice called softly. Hesitantly, you cracked the door open, peeking out at him. “Are you real…?” you asked, reaching out to touch his face for a brief moment.

San’s cheeks turned a bright red as he laughed, covering his face. “I’m as real as I can be,” he assured you, a bit amused. You blinked at him, still processing his presence. “What are you even doing here?” you managed to ask.

“I planned to take you to go ice skating today,” he explained with a smile. And before you could speak up about your doubts of whether you’d be allowed to go outside or not, he beat you to it. “I already got your parents’ permission, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

Before you could respond, he added, “I’ll wait for you downstairs. Take your time to get ready.” He stepped back, allowing you to close the door and gather yourself.

When you finally went down the stairs, you felt a little more put-together than usual. Your parents were quick to compliment your appearance, and San, though a bit late, managed to stammer out, “You look beautiful.”You didn't catch it, but your parents did, exchanging knowing glances. “What?” you asked, and San repeated himself, louder this time but somehow more bashful. “You look really beautiful.”

At the ice skating rink, you nervously stared at the skates in your hands. “You know what, San, maybe this isn’t a good idea…” you murmured, anxiety creeping in.San already had his feet settled down on the ice, extending his hand toward you. “I’ve got you, okay? I promise I won’t let go,” he reassured you with a gentle smile.

At first, you nearly fell over multiple times, your grip on San’s hands growing tighter and tighter until it reached his forearms, then his shoulders. At some point, you both failed to notice, but your arms ended up wrapped around his waist, and your face was buried in his chest out of sheer fear.

San, feeling your trepidation, gently motivated you to let go gradually and trust him. “Don’t be scared, I’m here. I’ll catch you if you fall, alright?”

And although you don’t trust yourself, you certainly do trust San. You took a deep breath and slowly let go of his waist, immediately clutching his forearms for support. He skated backward, guiding you as you learned to move your feet. Step by step, you started to get the hang of it. San’s face then lit up with a proud smile.

“You’re doing great!” he cheered. “Do you think you’re ready to try it on your own?”

Slowly, you nodded. San released you from his hold but kept his hands out, ready to catch you if you needed it. To his surprise and your own, you started skating smoothly. The initial heartwarming moment quickly turned playful as you began to chase him around the rink, laughing and shouting, “If I catch you, you’re a loser!”

San chuckled, skating just fast enough to keep a fair distance. “We’ll see about that!”

For the next day you spent together, you two decided to try pottery painting. As you settled at the table with your blank ceramic pieces in front of you, you asked San if he had a picture of Byeol on his phone. Despite his confusion, he obliged, scrolling through his gallery before handing you his phone with a picture of Byeol displayed. You both decided to put up a makeshift cardboard barrier between you to keep your paintings a surprise until you were both finished. With brushes in hand, you began to paint, each absorbed in your creative process.

When it was time for the big reveal, San removed the cardboard piece, proudly displaying his bowl. He had painted a breathtaking night sky filled with stars and the Orion constellation, knowing it was your favorite. On the bottom half, there was a cliff with two shadowy figures sitting side by side. “That’s us!” he said, flashing his signature cat-like smile that you’ve grown to admire. His depiction of your special spot touched your heart deeply, and you felt a lump in your throat as you fought back tears.

Then it was your turn. Nervously, you showed him your bowl, which featured a detailed painting of Byeol. San’s eyes widened with surprise and delight. He quickly took the bowl from you, examining the well-crafted details. “How did you manage to make her look even cuter? You did so good at this!” he praised, clearly impressed. And by the end of the day, you both decided to switch bowls as a keepsake of the memory.

The following day was spent having fun at the arcade. As soon as you both stepped inside, your eyes locked onto a claw machine filled with Sanrio plushies. You’d always wanted to try your luck at one of these machines, and the sight of the plushies sparked your excitement. Tugging on San’s shirt, you eagerly pointed to the machine. Before he could even ask, you grabbed his hand and pulled him towards it.

Peeking through the glass, you marveled at the assortment of cute plushies. A particular My Melody plush holding a strawberry, adorned with a red ribbon atop its head, caught your attention. “Look! I want that one,” you told San, pointing it out.

Without needing to be told twice, San inserted a coin into the machine. With expert precision, he maneuvered the claw and, on his first try, managed to snag the plushie. As the plushie dropped into the chute, San retrieved it and handed it to you with a triumphant smile. You squealed with delight, hugging the plushie tightly before impulsively wrapping San in a hug. Realizing what you were doing, you quickly pulled away, embarrassed. Little did you know, San wished the hug had lasted longer.

Next, you decided to try the dance machine. San insisted it would be fun, even if you both ended up looking ridiculous. As the music started, you both tried to follow the dance steps on the screen. You found yourself laughing uncontrollably at San’s exaggerated moves and his attempts to keep up with the fast-paced rhythm. Despite the occasional stumbles and missed steps, San’s determination to get it right made you laugh harder, and your shared laughter echoed through the arcade.

Afterward, you moved on to a basketball shooting game. San challenged you, confident he would win. “Prepare to lose,” he teased, smirking. Surprisingly, you gave him a run for his money, matching his score shot for shot. The competitive energy between you sparked playful banter and laughter. In the end, you narrowly lost, but San graciously declared you the winner of his heart, making you blush.

Next on your list was a visit to an art museum, a stark contrast from the loud arcade. The serene atmosphere offered a different kind of beauty, one that you both found captivating. As you wandered through the halls, you stopped frequently to admire various artworks—some by renowned artists and others new discoveries for you.

At one point, while you were deeply engrossed in a painting, San, standing behind you, quietly snapped a photo of you. He was about to take another when you turned around, smiling gently at him. Caught off guard, your face quickly turned to embarrassment as you walked over to him, covering your face and demanding to see the photo, fearing it might have caught you in an unflattering candid moment. However, to your surprise, the photo turned out beautifully.

Not wanting to be the only one captured candidly, you took his phone and insisted on taking his picture too. He protested, saying, “But if I know you’re taking a picture, it won’t exactly be candid, right?”

You waved off his objection, pushing him gently toward the artwork you were admiring. “Just act as if you’re admiring the painting,” you instructed. His shoulders shook as he tried to hold back his laughter, making you scold him lightly. Just as he turned to say something to you, you captured the perfect moment—his eyes closed in a genuine, joyful smile. Proud of the outcome, you showed him the photo. He smiled warmly, noting that you now had matching photos of each other.

Needless to say, you both spent the rest of the day not only admiring the artwork, but also one another.

Finally, the last item on your schedule was a simple yet meaningful stroll around the city. While it wasn’t exactly new to San, it was an entirely fresh experience for you, and he was more than eager to show you around and take you to places you had never visited before.

The first stop was a cozy cafe called ‘Heavenly Brews,’ a place he frequented and cherished. The signage outside was inviting, and inside, the warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee greeted you. San mentioned that one of his college friends worked there, and sure enough, behind the counter was a young man your age with long hair, busy making drinks. After a pleasant visit, where you enjoyed some of the best coffee you’d ever had, you left the cafe to explore more of the city.

As you walked, you passed by a lively tavern. The door was ajar, and you could see a bard passionately singing on a small stage, accompanied by a customer who seemed to be enjoying a spontaneous duet. The scene was vibrant and full of life, and it brought a smile to your face.

Continuing your journey, you noticed a large billboard featuring a famous football player. San noticed your curiosity and mentioned that he knew the guy personally. Surprised, you asked, “Really?” He nodded, explaining that the athlete on the billboard was the star of his college’s football team, and San himself had been part of that team too. This revelation added another layer to the fascinating person San was turning out to be.

You spent the rest of the day with him, walking through various streets and alleys, as he pointed out his favorite spots—places he had fond memories of and hoped to share with you. He mentioned wanting to visit all these places with you again, filling his voice with genuine enthusiasm.

Yet, despite his excitement, a pang of sadness tugged at your heart. The looming reality of your limited time made it hard to share his enthusiasm fully. Nevertheless, you managed a nod and a small smile, saying, “Yeah, I’d... I’d love to.”

—

San had told you to get ready for a special evening earlier during the morning by calling you, hinting at a surprise but refusing to divulge any details. “You’ll see,” was all he said as if wanting to leave you on a cliffhanger. He mentioned that your parents would drive you to the location, meaning they were in on the plan but remained tight-lipped about it. Confusion consumed you, but you got ready anyway, choosing to wear the dark red cardigan from your first meeting at the observatory. It held a fond memory and seemed fitting for the mysterious occasion.

As you walked downstairs, you noticed your parents waiting for you, their excitement evident. “What does San have planned?” you asked, unable to contain your curiosity.

They shared a knowing smile but refused to let you in on the details. Instead, they guided you gently to the sofa, their faces full of tenderness. “We just want to say how proud we are of you,” your father began, his voice thick with emotion and eyes glistening with unshed tears. He paused, seemingly collecting his thoughts, before continuing, “Despite everything you’ve been through, you’ve shown an incredible amount of strength and resilience. We see how hard it’s been, and yet, you’ve managed to keep moving forward. Your determination and courage are truly inspiring to us.”

Your mother, sitting beside him, reached out to take your hand, her grip warm and reassuring. Her eyes were shining with tears that threatened to spill over at any moment. “And we’re so happy that you found San,” she said softly, her voice filled with emotion. “He’s been such a positive influence in your life. We’ve watched you grow so much with him by your side. You’ve learned to lean on him, and it’s beautiful to see how much joy and comfort he brings you. We couldn’t have wished for a better person to be with you during these times.” She squeezed your hand gently, as if trying to convey the depth of her feelings through that simple gesture.

You felt a lump form in your throat at their words, and just as you were about to ask them what’s tonight about for them to be so emotional, they stood up and gently ushered you to the car. “You’ll see soon enough,” your mother said with a soft smile.

The drive seemed to take forever, your mind racing with endless possibilities. When the car finally stopped, you found yourself at the base of a familiar cliff—the same one you had run to back then. As you stepped out of the car, you saw San waiting for you, looking even more breathtaking in his well-chosen outfit.

He greeted your parents warmly before they drove off, leaving you two alone. “You look incredible,” San said, his eyes practically sparkling with admiration. Blushing, you replied, “No, you do.”

“I thought I’d fix myself up a little since I want tonight to be a special moment,” he replied bashfully, making you tilt your head. “What’s up with everyone wanting to act strange today?”

San laughed, refusing to answer as all he did was take your hand in his before walking up the path, making sure you wouldn’t trip on anything throughout it. Just before reaching the top, he stopped in his tracks. “Stay still for a moment,” he said, moving behind you. You felt his hands cover your eyes, making you giggle in confusion.

“San, what are you doing?” you asked, half-laughing. “Just trust me,” he whispered. “I promise it’ll be worth it.”After a short walk, he finally asked, “Ready?”

You nodded, and he slowly removed his hands. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight before you. The top of the cliff was transformed into a magical setting. A blanket was laid out, surrounded by twinkling fairy lights strung from the trees. An assortment of treats and foods was spread out, and a telescope stood nearby—the same one from the observatory. There were also cozy blankets ready for use.

“San, this is… I don’t even know what to say,” you said, your voice full of appreciation as you looked around, the warm lights reflecting in your eyes.

He smiled, looking a little shy. “I just… I wanted to do something for you, something I knew you’d like.” Taking in every detail, your heart swelled with emotion. “You know me so well, don’t you?”

You and San sit comfortably on the picnic blanket, a cozy blanket draped over both of you. Although he had prepared separate blankets, you insisted on sharing his, and despite being initially caught off guard, he was quick to happily oblige. Your head rests on his shoulder, your hands wrapped around his arm, basking in the warmth and comfort of each other’s presence. The silence between you is soothing.

Suddenly, you lift your head from his shoulder, causing him to turn his head towards you immediately. “What’s the matter?” he asks, his voice laced with gentle concern.

You smile softly and say, “I’ve been thinking about what you said about knowing that pro football player on the billboard. You know, the one from your college team.”

“Ah, Wooyoung?” he replies, recognition lighting up his eyes. You nod. “Yeah, ever since you mentioned him, I’ve been curious about your college experiences, particularly the life you lived back then.”

San’s face lights up with a mix of nostalgia and amusement. “Well, Woo and I were practically inseparable during college,” he begins. “We were always up to something, whether it was football or just hanging out. Lots of professors absolutely hated seeing us together, cause they know that when we are, we’re always up to no good.”

“Are you still close?” you ask, intrigued. “Not as much as we used to be,” San admits with a slight sigh. “He’s a pro player now, so he’s quite busy. Plus, he’s in a different country at the moment. We still talk to each other through messages and calls every other day, but we don’t see each other often.”

A fond smile crosses his face as he recalls a particular memory. “Oh, you know, I remember helping him make a move on his crush back then. It was quite the operation, and now she’s his girlfriend. Funny enough, she’s the one who took the photo of him on the billboard since she’s a professional photographer.”

You laugh softly at the story. “Sounds like you had a fun college life.” San nods, a nostalgic smile on his face. “Yeah, it was a great time.”

As he speaks, you find yourself drifting into a daydream, wondering what life might have been like if circumstances were different. Would you have met San in college? Maybe you would have been one of the people cheering for him at his football games, or perhaps you both could have been like Wooyoung and his girlfriend.

San notices you spacing out and gently nudges your shoulder. “Hey, everything alright?”

You wave him off with a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.” But just as you lean your head back on his shoulder, a sudden pang hits your chest. You wince slightly but brush it off, not wanting to ruin the moment.

San continues to share more stories from his college days at your request. He talks about the time he accidentally kicked a football into the opposing team’s coach’s face, causing quite a commotion. You can’t help but laugh at the mental image. He also recounts a grocery spree gone wrong, where he and his friends were kicked out within minutes because he broke a shopping cart trying to ride it.

He tells you about the week-long silent treatment between him and Wooyoung over stolen loot in a video game, and how they eventually made up after realizing how silly the whole thing was. His eyes light up with passion as he describes spending countless hours in the local library, devouring books about astronomy. Sometimes he’d stay so late that the librarian reserved a special table for him, where he often lost himself in the wonders of the universe.

Each story he tells paints a vivid picture of his past, filled with laughter, mishaps, and the simple joys of youth. As you listen, you feel a mix of admiration and affection for him, grateful for the glimpses into the life he lived before you met.

Just as you’re about to lean your head back on his shoulder, a sharp pang hits your chest. The pain is more aggressive this time, making you feel like you’re being strangled by an invisible force. Your breath hitches, and you clutch your chest, struggling to breathe.

San’s eyes widen in alarm. “What’s wrong?” he asks urgently, his voice filled with panic.“San, I can’t—I can’t breathe—San, I—” you manage to gasp out, each word a struggle.

Panic grips San as he checks you for any signs of what’s happening, all while trying to calm you down. “Just breathe, okay? I’m right here. You’re gonna be okay.”

But you know this isn’t an anxiety attack. The context and intensity make that unlikely. Tears stream down your face as you grab San’s hands, your voice trembling. “I don’t wanna die... I don’t wanna die yet... San, please... please...”

San’s face crumples with emotion as he realizes what’s happening. He doesn’t want to lose you. Tears pour down his cheeks as he holds your face in his hands, trying to comfort you despite his own fear. “You’re not going anywhere, okay? Stay with me.”

The pain in your chest begins to subside, but the reality of the situation sets in. You both know what this means. With tears still streaming, you cup his face, gently wiping away his tears. “It’s... it’s gonna be alright, San. It’s gonna be alright, okay?”

He shakes his head, his sobs growing louder. “No, it’s not. I can’t lose you. Not now.”

You smile softly despite the pain. “San, listen to me. You’ve given me so much. You’ve made me so happy. This... this isn’t the end. You’ll carry me with you, in your heart, always. I promise.”

He holds you tighter, his heart breaking as he feels your strength fading. The stars above blur with his tears, and all he can think about is how unfair this is. But in this moment, all he can do is be there with you, for you, until the very end.

You look up at him, a calm expression on your face. “It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. We... we’ve always been meant to end like this, anyway. I’m so, so sorry that I still let you into my world despite knowing that. I’m so sorry for being a burden, for taking your presence for granted, and not considering how you’d feel when the time for us to part ways finally comes.”

San shakes his head vehemently, his tears flowing freely. “No, no, don’t say that. You will never be a burden. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t regret entering your world one bit.”

Tears well up again, but you hold them back. “Still, I’m sorry. I’m sorry we have to end this way, I’m sorry I can’t live any longer to visit all your favorite places with you. I’m sorry we had to meet under these circumstances, I’m sorry we can’t live the life we both want to have. I’m sorry my fate has tainted our story. I’m sorry. But I... I want you to remember this.”

You let go of his hands momentarily, and he looks confused until you start signing the words, ‘you’ll forever be my star.’ His heart shatters even more.

“You learned that... for me?” he asks, his voice breaking with sobs.You nod with a smile. “For you.”

You take his hand again, your voice gentle. “I want you to remember that when you feel down, during the times you see yourself in a bad light, when you feel like you’re not doing well enough. Because even if there are days where you don’t feel like the best version of yourself, in my eyes, you’re still my star. The only star in the empty sky of my life.”

“When you reach your dreams, when your name is known enough to catch people’s attention, when you become the star of your field, I want you to look up there,” you say, pointing at the night sky, “and smile. Because I’ll be there, smiling back at you.”

You shift your weak body to lay your head on his lap while he gently strokes your hair. “I think I wanna stay like this for a while.”

A comfortable silence fills the air, broken only by San’s quiet sobs. As you start to feel your body shutting down, you hold his hand, looking up at him. “In another life?”

“In another life.”

—

San, now a renowned astronomer, sits in a sophisticated studio for an interview. His translator is seated beside him, ready to relay the questions in sign language. The interviewer begins by asking San about how his passion for astronomy started. For a brief moment, an image of you flickers in his mind—you had asked him the same question years ago at the observatory. Snapping out of his thoughts, he clears his throat, focusing on the question. His answer mirrors the one he gave you back then, detailing how a childhood fascination with the stars turned into a lifelong pursuit of knowledge.

The interviewer then inquires about how he feels regarding his success. While San provides a positive response, he can't help but bring you up. “If it weren’t for a certain person,” he starts, his voice tinged with emotion, “I don’t think I’d be here right now.” The interviewer asks for elaboration, and San recounts how he met you during a meteor shower. From the moment you expressed genuine curiosity about his dreams of becoming an astronomer, his motivation grew. “This person taught me that it’s okay to fall when you can’t fight anymore, that allowing yourself to be weak makes you stronger than pretending to always be strong.”

When asked if he’s still in touch with this person, San’s expression turns bittersweet. “I’d like to think of them as a meteor shower,” he says, his voice soft. “A passing light meant to remind me of the wonders of life, never meant to stay.”

Returning home, San finds himself gazing at the night sky through the glass windows of his penthouse. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper—a letter you wanted him to receive after you had passed away. Your parents gave it to him during your funeral.

“Hello, San :)

I hope this letter finds its way to you. I don’t know when exactly my timer will run out of seconds to spare, so I’m not sure when you’ll receive this. Still, when you do, I hope you’ll find comfort in reading this, whether you’re feeling tired, frustrated, or when you’re not feeling anything at all.

First off, did you know that the average day on Pluto lasts for 153.6 hours long? You definitely already do, but for now, please pretend you don’t. I read this on a science website while searching up how to cook food in an air fryer—don’t ask me the correlation between those two things—and I just wanted to impress you with it.

On a more serious note, though, I don’t think you’re aware of how much of an impact you’ve left in my life. Before I met you that night at the observatory, it was like I was trapped in this huge bubble of emptiness that I couldn’t make my way out of. Each day was practically hell on Earth for me, and tell you what, it used to be so hard for me to be positive, let alone try. Then you came into the picture with no warning beforehand, and I don’t know when exactly the shift in my world occurred, but it was like there was a lost candle in the very back of my soul that you, somehow, managed to find and light up.

You’re a really cool person, you know? So cool I’m willing to overlook the fact that you always wear glasses when you don’t even have poor eyesight. Your glasses look good on you, though, so I guess I’ll count that as a valid reason. You have this sort of comfortable energy that’s more than enough to put me at ease, and all your words of wisdom are so genuine that even a (retired) pessimist like me had grown to keep them engraved in my mind. Not only are you a cool astronomy nerd, but you own a cat, too! You know, I really wish I could’ve met Byeol when I was still there with you, but I guess there’s a next time for everything, right? Maybe in a different life, Byeol would be my cat instead. Or, even better, we could team up to co-parent him. Doesn’t that sound like a nice reality to live in?

You know, I wish I could be there with you to witness your success. I bet you’re reading this after coming across an article about you that a journalist had published. Or maybe after an interview schedule. Who knows? The possibilities are endless.

I’m starting to get sleepy now, so I’ll end this letter here. If you’re out there, having a hard time, always remember that I’ll always be here for you, even if it’s not in physical terms. I hope your heart now feels a little lighter after reading this, San. I’m so, so proud of you.”

Droplets of tears soaked the letter, and San silently sobbed. Looking above, he sees a single bright star in the empty night sky, and when he managed to put a smile on his face, the star twinkled back to him in return.

Perhaps in another life, you’d be a permanent star and not just a fleeting meteor.

🪞— lividstar.

[venussaidso]

While this will not apply to everyone, one thing about best friends, they're gonna aspect each other's Sun, Moon or Ascendant. ESPECIALLY by conjunction & opposition. Square is always going to cause friction or miscommunication somewhere down the line or in the initial stages of getting to know one another. Conjunction is likely a soul connection, especially when the Ascendant or Sun is involved. Doesn't matter the nakshatra, this applies to signs in general. The closer in degrees, the better. Moon aspects create strong bonds. But it's best for an opposition than a conjunction when it's Moon-Moon (creates a lively dynamic in which there's a lot of unconscious mirroring yet stark differences between each other). Sun-Moon is the best for a close conjunction, similar to Moon-Venus. The most obvious soul-connection synastry is when Rahu is involved, especially when one's Moon or Ascendant is conjunct the other's Rahu. You were meant to meet them in this lifetime and learn something or experience something with them. Saturn being present also shows a strong/karmic bond, whether that's a bad thing or good thing. But I've noticed Sun, Moon, Asc aspects in friendships and it's just cute idk; whether it's conjunction, opposition, square etc.

[professional-benaddict]

"strange..." but it really does get strange

a starkerstrange drabble by saturn anon🪐💗 (alternative version of the first one.)

"why is dada name 'ephen swange?" tony, and stephen's baby whose name is peter asks both of his daddies on why the other is named as: stephen strange.

"oh well, dada's parent's decided to name me stephen. i was just a tiny little baby, and a little baby cannot name himself on his own, can he? just right after they held me into their arms, they just thought that 'stephen' suits me best." stephen explained to his baby in a way wherein he hopes that the boy would understand. little peter just wanted to know on why is dada's last name... 'strange.'

"petey knows that dada, but why 'swange'?"

oh dear...

"well surnames were first invented in 11th century— i know, strange. isn't it?" tony winks at stephen, and stephen just sighs, so fond of his husband's colorful antics and teasing tones.

"hey! well yeah stephen strange is my name. but to you, our little boy, i'm dada, and that's daddy. okay, baby?" stephen tickles peter and earns him and his husband a giggly little boy.

"okay dada!" peter exclaimed and is finally free from tickles.

"hmm... strange." both peter and tony say in unison.

"and i guess i shall never catch a break from this." stephen just chuckles and now, earning himself a giggling husband and a cheeky baby.

[blossomandglow]

Personal Power of the Rising Sign

To empower yourself and your life, empower and express your RISING sign and ruling planet, and avoid expressing qualities of your DESCENDANT sign, or the ruling planet of your descendant. What does this mean? Ok--

E.G. If you are a Cancer Rising, your ruling planet is the moon, your descendant is Capricorn and the ruling planet of the descendant is Saturn. If this is your rising sign, wear moon colors (grays, soft golds, pastels in general and soft metallics, black and white together, muted dark colors, but no pure stark black.) Embody the aesthetic of the moon as far as it feels authentic to you. Embody your unique moon sign-- this is your ruling planet. If you are a Cancer Rising, do NOT lean into your Saturn sign which rules your 7th house; give it little personal representation: it is meant to represent the Other in your life. Do not wear starkly tailored clothing (Capricorn aesthetic) or pure black (Capricorn aesthetic.) Do not live a very ambitious or strictly structured life; this all would be Capricornian. You are not rejecting these energies, you may better appreciate them in others in your life.

If you embody and express your descendant sign it does two things: it strengthens your enemies, weakens your Self, and repels your true partner and comrades who are meant to bring that energy into your life for you. You must be yourself so that you can receive what you want and need.

As always, take all of this with a grain of salt, but just think about embodying your rising sign vs. your descendant sign and whatever that means for you. (All signs below the break)

(Continued here:)

Let's try another example. If you are a Leo Rising, your ruling planet is the sun, you have Aquarius on the descendant, and the ruling planet of the descendant is Uranus. So, your aesthetic should be Leonian and sunny in whatever way that works for you: bright, deep and/or vivid colors, artistic, even dramatic, fun, happy, free, reds, oranges, golds, nothing is "too much" as long as it's authentically felt. Also all sportswear and athleisure is appropriate since Leo rules sports. (Sorry, Aries.)

The opposite Aquarian aesthetic is for shock value which can be mistaken as the same as the sometimes flashy/dramatic Leonian aesthetic. However, intention matters. Leo Risings should be dressing to express themselves and not to annoy the mainstream and make a political point (that's Aquarian). Both are great, no judgement, it's just the intention is a little different. Aquarius aesthetic and lifestyle is weird, quirky, avante garde, punk, revolutionary, counter culture, subversive, community-oriented or peer-oriented, experimental. Uranus represents a spontaneous, "whatever", erratic energy; again, revolutionary, reactive, oppositional, community and peer-oriented vibe. If Aquarius is your rising sign, go for it! But if you have the more common Leo Rising, do not embody your descendant. Instead you can embrace your friends who carry this energy and you express your own energy. Leo Rising energy is about leadership, art and entertainment, fun, creativity, warmth, radiance, life and growth. It is important for Leo Risings to avoid being peer-oriented. You should be passion-oriented. If you are, others will gravitate towards you, (YOU are the sun, everything does revolve around you lol) but if you are others-oriented, and not true to yourself, others will be repelled from your energy. More than any other placements, you must embody your sun sign whatever that is, because for Leo Risings the sun is your ruling planet. Now for the rest:

Aries Risings. Who skimmed that whole intro until they saw their own sign because no one has time for all that. Aries Rising-- do wear: Sports wear, athletic wear, the brightest colors, especially red, also orange, even neons. Crop tops and skin-baring outfits definitely when it's appropriate. The least amount of clothing possible that does the job. A suit, even, if that's what it takes to win. Tattoos of scary things, mainly as a means to intimidate your enemies, ideally on places you can't easily cover up, like your neck or face. Ok, obviously I'm kidding, and if you have a corporate job, you probably need to think a little more conservatively. Whatever it takes to win, and this is not selling-out for the Aries Rising because it's all about achieving that true goal, whatever that is for you. Avoid Libran aesthetic which is fancy and lazy and lacey and whatever (don't be offended, Libra Risings, I got you below ;). Aries Rising should avoid "aesthetics" in general. No one has time for that nonsense anyway if they have a real goal. You dress for winning. That's it. That's the aesthetic. Other than that, your own natural God-given body is the aesthetic. For Taurus Risings, embody your Venus sign, and embrace a Taurean vibe: earthy, sensual, practical, simple, homespun but luxurious in texture and substance-- and do not embody the opposite Scorpio energies which are intense, emotional, extreme, dark, polarizing-- avoid wearing deep, dark colors-- traditional old astrology/pagan devotees taught that Taurus Risings and Libra Risings were not to cut their hair nor get tattoos but to preserve their natural state as much as possible-- just a thought. Gemini Rising: one of Tumblrs favorite aesthetics, lol, the bookstore/academia/bookworm aesthetic, or teacher aesthetic: no color/style is off limits for Gemini Risings but do mix it up, don't lean into any one style too much, play around, keep it eclectic and rather light-- nothing intense unless you have mercury in Scorpio.

If you have Gemini Rising then your mercury sign is your ruling planet so embody that. Avoid and do not embody Sagittarian energies which are adventurous, outdoorsy, travel aesthetic, foreign, international, the aesthetic of religious iconography (seriously, if you are a Gemini Rising and you are not Christian do not wear a cross as a cute little aesthetic thing, or a nun costume, or anything like this-- it will weaken your true essence--) Gemini Risings strongly need to watch out for and avoid appropriation in general, which they are prone to since Gemini Risings tend to take nothing seriously. Gemini risings, think about who YOU ARE, and be THAT, instead of cosplaying everyone and everything else. Virgo Risings: you also get the bookstore/teacher/academic aesthetic, yay Mercury vibes! You can also lean into work wear/office wear aesthetic if you like that kind of thing. Your look should be more even and predictable than Gemini's (predictable for you, not necessarily for others), you should consider creating a capsule wardrobe. Your colors should generally be muted or earthy but whatever is comfortable for you. Express your mercury sign, that's your ruling planet. Avoid the Pisces aesthetic and lifestyle: dreamy, ethereal, lots of blues and greens and flowing fabrics, maybe a little dark or unsettling, your vibe needs to be the opposite of unsettling. Your vibe is nesting. You do better with a slightly more tailored or structured aesthetic and lifestyle, grounded and earthy. Avoid the wishy-washy, lazy, lackadaisical, dissipant Piscean lifestyle, which can work well for people with Pisces energy, but for you, keep to your routines and personal rules that you know work well for you.

Libra Risings: you are Venus-ruled, so magnify and embody your Venus sign and all things aphrodisian: your aesthetic is romantic, elegant, sophisticated, luxurious, literally nothing is too elegant or luxurious for you. Pinks and/or blues are your very best colors, and soft colors in general, but whatever is stylish. Take great care of your hair (I don't even need to tell the Libra Risings this, but I am validating it). Avoid Aries energy (bright reds and oranges, bright attention-getting looks, athletic wear, sports clothing, a competitive. aggressive or exertive lifestyle) and do not lean into your Mars sign. This Aries or Mars energy is meant to represent the Other in your life so you can appreciate these energies in others.

Scorpio Rising: you know you just want to wear black all the time, and that's cool, you should do that. And the dark sunglasses of course. No one must ever see your eyes until the moment of death. I'm kidding, you're not laughing. Okay, may I also suggest a lovely deep burgundy color, or very bright or deep dark reds in general? Possibly also dark blues. Well, it's just a suggestion, anyway. You can also benefit from the capsule wardrobe. Definitely go for tattoos, if it resonates, the more the merrier, but of course they must be meaningful. Everything you do should be deeply imbued with Meaning and layers of symbolism. Avoid embodying the Taurus energies, which are simple and plain and boring and very run-of-the-mill-- for you. These should be represented in your life via other people. See the advice for Taurus Rising above and then don't do that.

Sagittarius Rising: your ruling planet is Jupiter so lean into your Jupiter sign. Your best aesthetics are adventurous and/or celebratory. Your clothing is meant to express your joy for exploring life. You may dress like it's your birthday or Christmas every day or like you're performing in Vegas. Or alternatively, like you're going on an adventure around the world, on foot, like cargo pants with 20 pockets. Sportswear is in, loud fun playful prints are in, nothing is too silly or fun, everything should have pockets. Sagittarius Rising should still avoid appropriation obviously, but I don't really need to tell you that-- as a Sagittarius Rising you do gain inspiration from other cultures in a respectful and appropriate way where it resonates. Religious iconography is on too, rock that little aesthetic cross if you want to! Do not embody that bookish, experimental Gemini energy, this is for your friends and partners to bring into your life. Avoid the eclectic vibe or the lifestyle of "dabbling". Dabbling is for Geminis. Your energy is to pursue things ardently and at full throttle, no dabbling. Only exception is for those Sagittarius Risings who do have Jupiter in Gemini. Then you can be an ardent dabbler. I don't know how that works but it sounds cool.

Capricorn Rising: my nemesis (affectionate). You can really rock the stark black and white colors, or all black; tailored looks, suits and suitwear, office wear, film noir aesthetic: no structured look is too much for you. Even bondage wear, yikes. You can also rock a dark academia look or "old money" look. These suggestions are very Western-coded but any traditional look is good, really, whatever is considered quite stuffy or uncomfortable in your culture is the right note to hit. The darker and more structured the better. You can also wear snotty, elite brand names and jerseys of successful athletes, and generally anything that celebrates worldly success.

Avoid the Cancer vibes unless you have that Saturn in Cancer-- this means avoiding the soft draping clothes, the dressing for comfort only, the ratty old clothes with holes, that worn-in old tee-shirt-- the girl next door vibe-- this vibe is not for you and will weaken your energy. And you must achieve success and defeat your peers, right? Right? RIGHT? No, I know, I get you, so go befriend a tailor and start dressing for success like the boss that you are. Remember to gatekeep your tailor so no one else looks as good as you do. Let's see who's left. Oh, Aquarius Rising! It doesn't matter what I tell Aquarius to do, they'll dress however they want to anyway, and they should. My only caveat is basically the opposite of what I told Leo Rising: whereas Leo Rising should not dress to shock, but simply to express their creativity, and thereby they also encourage others to be true to themselves-- so cute-- Aquarius Rising SHOULD dress to shock and disturb, and not just for funsies. Funsies are for Leo Risings. You, Aquarius, are tasked with the weight of the calling to tear down the existing structures of the war machine via your aesthetic. So fuck it up. Whatever that means for you. I don't care what anyone else says, I think you CAN fit another sticker on your community-share car/scooter/skateboard, and you should. Weirdly, and this feels VERY weird to say-- do NOT lean into your sun sign. So weird, right? Yeah. IDK, just be yourself. Literally anything goes for Aquarians, as long as it's authentic and true to your principles, which I know it is.

OMG I almost forgot Pisces Rising. Do you know why? The Pisces Rising aesthetic is like a ghost. You may often dress to blend into the wall. Your other available aesthetics are Swamp Creature that just rose from the Deep and Fairy Enchantress/Enchanter, on the hunt for another human soul via trickery. Johnny Cash was a Pisces Rising who somehow embodies all of the above. So think ethereal and otherworldly. Any colors are fine, although blues and greens work best. Light or dark colors depend on whether you're blending into the wall or the Deep. Your other aesthetic is Baby which is useful when you're hungry and want people to buy you lunch or buy your album. This is mostly in the eyes, and is not gender-specific-- Pisces Rising men do the Baby aesthetic very effectively: Michael Jackson, Richard Pryor and Ryan Gosling all have those baby eyes. So does Billie Eilish, with her Ocean Eyes. Ocean is definitely another Pisces aesthetic. Whatever you do, Pisces Rising should avoid Virgo aesthetic and lifestyle, which is routine, data-driven, conscientious, practical, and boring. Be impractical and morally gray-- as an aesthetic, please, in no way am I condoning actual predatory behavior, which some Pisces Risings have been known for. :(

Well on THAT note, the point of all of this was to think about what it means to express your own true self, and not to embody things we like in others that aren't really authentic to our own selves or our own way of moving in the world. We all carry different energies and that's a beautiful thing.

♥︎

[fairysluna]

what lives in the dark.

In the middle of the Godswood of Winterfell lives a creature that appears at midnight with the full moon, but you and your boyfriend were too stubborn to believe it.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING – Werewolf!Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader.

TAGS/TW – smut (breeding/creampie, p in v, cunninglus, size kink, squirting, and praise), dubcon/noncon, infidelity(?, hunter/pray dynamics, lowborn!reader, feral!cregan. if something is missing pls let me know!!

AUTHOR'S NOTE – so, this story contains a bit of omegaverse dynamics bc Cregan is a werewolf, but only basic aspects like the rut and knotting. It took me a while to write this actually, but i hope you all enjoy it!! also, thanks to my beautiful wifey @targbarbie for being my beta reader, love you to the moon and to saturn🤍

WORD COUNT – 4.792

GENERAL TAG LIST – @borikenlove @melsunshine @clairacassidy @satansdarlin @aelora-a @cullenswife @ilikeitbetterangsty @jvpit3rs

FEEDBACK , SHARES AND COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS WELCOME!

"I'm starting to regret this."

Your voice came out as a whisper, almost being silenced by the sounds of the nightlife of the Godswood. The darkness surrounding you was scary enough to spook away to the bravest of men, and yet your lover decided that it was worth the try. You were barely able to see the stars in the sky, for the trees did not allow you to have a clear view. The moonlight was dim, the only thing that helped you to see was the candles on your hands.

"Just a few more rounds and we'll get back home," your lover promised, holding your hand and guiding you deeper into the woods.

A quick look at him was all you needed to start to feel unsure, not safe. He was not tall, one or two inches taller than you, his body was slim and skinny, and he certainly was not the greatest of fighters. He was the son of a stableman, the closest thing to battle he had experienced was when a horse almost kicked his gut. And yet, he believed to be brave and strong enough to submerge into the darkness of the woods.

Even when the whispers say that every full moon, a howling creature appears. The northerns usually hide in the safety of their homes when this time of the month arrives, but there you were, following your lover into the craziest thing you have done in your life. Oh, how stupid you were.

"My love, I don't think this is a good idea," you insisted, already being paranoid with the whistling sound of the wind, "this is not safe, please, let's just go home."

He didn't listen, so you froze in your place. Once he realized you were not moving, he turned around and pressed his lips with disapproval, almost looking mad at you for stopping his adventure, but you were not going to bend, you wanted to go back. Your instinct was yelling for you to turn around and run.

"I want to go home," you said sternly, firmly expressing your annoyance and slight fear.

"Love-"

"No," you interrupted him, "it's enough. This is stupidly dangerous, I don't want to do this anymore, I want to-"

His lips pressed against yours, silencing you as he pushed you against a tree. His hands went to your rear, cupping your arse and stealing a small gasp from your mouth. You squirmed under his touch, accidentally brushing your thigh against him and causing a moan to slip out of his lips.

Almost immediately, you pushed him away.

"Stop this!" you grunted, "what are you doing?"

"Trying to calm you down, that's what I'm doing," he said with a smirk, and you could not help but to roll your eyes as he came closer to your lips once again.

"I want to go home," you demanded.

"I want to make you mine," he muttered, going to attack your lips once again.

His hands cupped your face in order to retain your position between his body and the tree behind you. You moved your face, and with a single push you managed to get him away from you. He groaned, angry and upset, but you decided to ignore his furrowed expression as you turned around and started to walk away.

"Wait!" you heard him yelling, but you didn't stop, "My love, please, wait!"

"I'm going home with or without you," you answered, keeping your pace steady and firm.

"You can get lost, the Godswood is too big!"

"I'll find the way out," you assured him.

You didn't turn around, but you knew he was walking right behind you because you were able to hear the leaves cracking under his shoes. Your breath became unsteady as you started to get slightly tired of walking, and you couldn't find the weirwood tree that would make you know you were going in the right direction.

Trying to look at the sky to see if the star could help you with your orientation, you realize that the crown of the abundant trees were covering almost the whole sky, leaving you with nothing that showed you where you were going. You cursed yourself on the low, losing your pride and turning around to finally face your lover and ask him to guide you through the forest.

But he wasn't there. No one was, actually. As soon as you turned around, you were able to hear a movement in the trees and bushes, and the only thing in front of you was darkness. The candle in your hand was soon to be extinct, for the wax was already fully melting in the cup. You started to feel genuine and pure fear, you were alone, in the woods during the full moon. Nothing good will come out of this, of that you were certain.

The sudden movement of the trees put you on alert. You swallowed hard as your body tensed, stiff as a rock. You tried to remain quiet, thinking that perhaps if the thing that was out there did not hear you then you would be safe. Your shaky breath became a bit too loud for your liking as you slowly started to move backwards, resisting the imminent urge to run away.

And then you saw it, two yellowish spheres that were seen hiding behind a tree not so far from you. Your lower lip trembled, and when you heard it grunting, you knew you should run.

The candle, the only thing that provided you with light, fell from your hand and was turned off by the traces of snow in the ground. You were staring at it, and it was staring right back at you. You could recognize a tall and big shape, almost too big to be human… no man you have known was that tall, and that's how you knew you were in the presence of the frightening beast the northern tales tell you about.

You saw it move, and before it could come out from its hiding spot, you found yourself running away, completely blinded by the darkness surrounding you, and the panic and adrenaline of the moment. Your hands were grasping your skirts, lifting them up so it was easier for you to move between bushes and branches.

It was almost impossible for you to know whether you were going for the right path or not. The adrenaline of the moment led you where your instinct would take you, and with a bit of luck, you managed to arrive at the center of the Godswood, where the Weirwood Tree was standing. Its fallen red leaves were decorating the white snow, and you finally were able to see beyond your own hands.

You looked up, and the stars were shining bright, the moon giving you the light you needed to realize where you were standing. You fell to your knees in front of the carved face, and you started to pray for your safety, cursing the name of your lover who had no remorse in leaving you to go by yourself.

You noticed you were crying once you touched your face and felt your soaked cheeks. Whines and cries were heard in the quietness of the night, your body shaking with fear as you were looking at your surroundings like a paranoid.

The sound of a branch being stepped on was heard, and your eyes quickly saw the tall frame of a man. You felt relief, a weight taken off your shoulders as you stood up and sighed. He walked slowly, getting closer to you, and once he was close enough you were able to identify him as Lord Stark.

A tall, handsome man that you had the chance to meet a few times around Winterfell; now you were seeing him as your salvation from the terror that was starting to consume you.

Of course the panic in your mind did not allow you to notice his bright yellow eyes.

"Lord Stark," you breathlessly said, standing up to face him. His tall frame in front of you, your eyes looking up at his face. "What a relief…"

He remained silent, your eyes kept wandering around going from his face to your surroundings just to make sure the thing didn't follow you to that place. Once he reached your side, you felt some sense of calmness and peace.

"We need to go back, I intended to go back but I got lost in my way and I couldn't- this is not safe, we must go now!"

You saw his shoulders move as he took a deep breath and his intense haze was on you, examining your body from head to toe. Suddenly, your demeanor changed, and the feeling of safety was no longer there. Your body tensed, staring at his eyes only to notice the color of them, and how big his pupils were.

Then, you knew you were fucked.

In a pathetic attempt to run away, you tried to turn around, but big hands wrapped your waist and placed you against the tree. His body pressed against you, and you sensed his scent; he smelled of wet dirt and sweat, but there were still traces of his cologne in his skin; a sign that there was still a man behind those predatory eyes.

"My Lord-"

"Your smell…" he interrupts your whines, tears falling down your cheeks once again. His voice came out as low and raspy, almost in an animalistic tone that made you freeze with fear, "I could smell you from miles away, sweet doe." His nose buried in the crook of your neck, you whimpered, closing your eyes, "so inviting, so tempting… so arousing."

His tongue traveled in your soft skin, leaving a trace of saliva on you, causing chills down your spine. Your lower lip shook as you took a deep breath. Soon you were able to feel his teeth brushing against your neck, biting gently without the intention of leaving marks behind; he just wanted to taste your sweetness. But, of course, that was not enough for him.

"I wonder how you taste," he purred, his fingers collected some of the tears that had fallen down your warm face before he licked them out of his digits. A groan escaped from his lips, his eyes were closed, that tiny, little taste from you sent him over the edge. "I bet you are so sweet… your scent tells me you are."

"P-please…" You pointlessly begged him, feeling his hands going down to reach your skirts and starting to lift it up. You could've ran away, but you were frozen in that position; back against the holy tree, and your chest pressed against his.

"How dare you ask me to stop?" He scoffed, "you've been spreading the smell of your arousal around the woods, and you expect me to control myself and let you go?" He clicked his tongue, his fingers slipping between your legs until he reached your warmth. He hummed, delighted to feel some of your slick covering his thick, big fingers. "I usually hold myself back, but you have made it impossible… I'm acting as if I'm going through my rut, but in reality it's all you." He spoke, grunting as he leaned impossibly closer and his finger played with your sensitive bud. "You wanted this, did you not? You came here because you knew I was going to be here-"

"No… no, I didn't know, please!" You cried out, whimpering in the low as he rubbed his raspy fingertips against you, "I- I didn't-"

"Sh, sh…" he silenced you, his free hand wrapping around your neck as he pulled back and led you to the ground. He forced you to kneel, squeezing your throat in a subtle but demanding way, and you were too scared to even dare to go against his wishes. "You are a terrible liar, my sweet doe."

Somehow you ended up laying in the ground, your body on top of a bed of fallen leaves covered by the traces that the snow had left in them. Your back soon was wet because of the melting snow, and a cold shiver ran down your spine. Cregan forced you to spread your legs, positioning himself between them as he towered your body with his. He leaned closer and harshly bit your lip; the gesture was so careless that it made you cry out loud. However, there was no point in screaming, you were too far to be heard by someone from the town. Your only option was to close your eyes, pray and cry in silence until everything was over.

His big hands grabbed the back of your knees and forced them against your chest. The cold breeze smacked against your bare cunt and you whined due the sensation. Inevitably, you clenched your walls and he was able to perceive it, his bright, yellow eyes sparkled with the sight as he sighed. A smug smirk appeared on face, giving him a wicked look on his devilish features; such a view made you feel fear once again, but also made you sense some familiar feeling in your gut.

"Oh, fuck-" he said, shifting his position until his face was right in front lf your cunt. "Look at this… so fucking pretty."

He moved his hands, one of them was big –and strong– enough to hold your legs up. His free hand went to your folds, spreading them without shame as he took a closer look. He managed to see your little clit, already getting swollen for the stimulation he was providing you, and your hole… so eager and desperate to be filled up by him. He leaned even closer, his nose almost brushing against your pearl. He took a deep breath.

"Gods be good," he moaned. His mouth dropped open as he panted, his heavy breathing smacking against your wetness. Your hips twitched and you hiccuped, not even sure of what you were feeling at that moment, "just let me have a taste of you before I knot you."

Before you realized, his both hands were on your arse, his thumbs spreading your lips as his thick, warm and raspy tongue lapped onto your soaking cunt. Your eyes rolled to the back of your hand almost immediately as you tried to move away from him, but his hands were too strong and you could barely shake under his frame.

He had absolutely no shame in devouring you. His saliva dripping from his tongue and slipping down your arse as he moaned and whined against your sensitive skin. You tasted so fucking good, better than any other sweet or desert he had ever eaten before. Your soft whimpers and cries were edging him to the point where his mind felt numb with pleasure and lust. He could not help but feel the pleasuring pain growing inside his pants to such an extent that he started to cry out of the ache.

Your hands were on his hair, doing actions that did not have a clear intention; you were pulling it to keep him away from you, but at the same time, your hips could not stop following his hungry mouth. It is as if your body was asking for something you cannot quite comprehend, your lover has never pleasured in this way before… Cregan was the first person who dared to kiss such a private part of your body. It felt different, and it felt so fucking good.

Soon, your legs were wrapped around his head as he pulled your hips up. His mouth sucking on your clit and slurping your juices, your moans becoming as loud as screams. Your mind confused with the overwhelming sensation your body was experiencing, completely numb as a response for the unbeknownst feeling growing inside your belly.

Stammering, mumbling and cries were the only thing that left your mouth, for you were unable to put words together to form coherent sentences that express whatever you were feeling at the moment. It was completely new, you were feeling fire running through your veins that intensified with each movement of his skilful tongue against your folds. You felt your skin burning, sweat covering your shape as you kept struggling to move; your chest moving fastly, your nails digging in his skull, and your hips humping his face.

You melted under his arms as a sudden feeling washed you over with such an intensity that your vision became blurry. Black spots appeared in your eyes as you gasped loudly, you felt a certain relief followed by wet sounds that made Cregan whine even louder than you. His tongue collected all of your cum, seizing the sweet taste of your release as you were too numb to even realize what had just happened.

"Your cunt is so fucking wet right now," he growled. His tone made you wake up from the cloud of ecstasy you were in. It was lower, barely human. An animalistic demeanor was seen on his predatory eyes as he examined your shaky body under him. Your juices and the traces of his saliva made his chin glistened under the moonlight, such an obscene view to witness, so sinful, so shameful. "You pretend you don't like this but look at you, you came so fucking hard on my mouth, sweet doe… I want to drink from this cunt forever."

He let go of you just so his hands would reach his pants. You held your weight over your shoulders and while you looked at him struggling to get rid of the bothering fabric, you saw the perfect opportunity to attempt an escape. A stupid action, that's certain.

Your shaky legs were not much helpful as you turned to crawl away from him. Your knees being scratched by the branches on the floor as you cried your way out of that place. A big hand was wrapped around your ankle and dragged you backwards until you felt his hardened cock hitting your arse cheeks. His hands fell at each side of your hips and you cried at the impact as your arms failed to keep your body up.

Soon he grabbed a fist of your hair and pulled you back until his mouth was beside your ear. You felt his length between your folds, and he slowly started to rub against you, your poor, abused clit throbbed due to this action and a moan left your lips. You were able to perceive his anger in his heavy breathing as he tightened his grip in your hair, your head falling backwards until it was against his shoulder.

"Don't you dare to do that again," he whispered in your ear, his voice growling, so raspy that it did not even feel human anymore. "Don't make me hurt you, sweet doe."

You felt your nose itching as the tears started to escape from your eyes, though you were confused about the reason behind them. Pleasure, pain, fear. All emotions that overwhelmed your senses and confused your mind as Cregan's hands touched your body without shame at all. Such a devilish act had you wondering what you have done to deserve it, or if your lover will ever forgive you for this adulterous sin.

"I'm going to make you mine," he said, "I'm going to fill you with my cum and make you my mate and you will take it."

"P-please, no…" you mumbled, sobbing already as he kept fucking your thighs. "J-just let me- let me go, please."

"Why would I do that?" He asked, his words being followed by a moan, "I've tasted you already, my sweet thing… How am I supposed to let you go after I've become addicted to the way you taste? To the way your sweet cries beg me to keep going. Oh, my doe, you're asking me something completely impossible."

"I won't tell anyone, please… please, m-my lord-"

A loud chuckle was heard, echoing in the open space and causing you shivers down your spine. You soon felt his fat, thick head brushing against your drenching entrance and he slowly started to push inside of your tight walls. Your eyes widened as his thick cock spreaded your insides in such a painful way that made your mouth drop open for the intrusion.

"S-stop!" You yelped, trying to move your hips away, but his hips were impossibly strong, "It hurts! Please, stop!"

"Sh, sh… it's okay," he cooed, his voice shaking and unsteady, "just take it, doe, feel my cock spreading you open… Your cunt is so fucking tight."

"S-so big… Gods!" You cried out. "Please!"

"It's okay," he repeated, using the same tone as before. Hisses leaving his lips as he sinks deeper into you, "you need to get used to me, sweetling. I plan to fuck this little pussy every day from now on."

Your eyes clenched shut as he pushed harder until you were able to feel his heavy sack against your skin. Cregan pushed your head down until your cheek was pressed against the dried leaves in the ground. Your arse up in the air gave him the perfect view of your tight hole greedily receiving his cock. You would say it hurted you, but your cunt was taking him so well, eager for more.

He started to move, slowly at first, he wanted to make sure you were able to feel every inch of his pulsing cock, every vein in it. Your walls would squeeze him tightly, clenching around him everytime he would bury himself inside you. Your mouth remained open, and your eyes remained closed. He was filling you up so well.

The sound of your wetness was heard even when your moans were getting louder. It was such an obscene view, the way he would slowly pound against you just so he can watch how your creamy cunt left his length soaking with your juices. His eyes were fixated on that part of your body, bewitched by the scene, completely lost in the feeling and the rush of lust running through his veins. His big hands spreaded your arse cheeks just so he can have a better view; his animalistic side took over him as soon as he saw your tight hole greedily clenching, as if it was begging to be filled too.

His nails dug into the skin of your hips, and soon his thrust became harder. He kept the same velocity as before, just that now he made them deeper and stronger. You started to get used to the way he would move, the fact that he started slow made you adjust to his size and actually find some pleasure in his thrust. Your hands gripped the dirt under your body as you were desperately looking for something to hold on to. His pounding getting wilder with each passing second, as if he was growing desperate to feel you again as soon as he could.

You found yourself enjoying it, and feeling guilty about it… your lover was somewhere around the woods, wandering around the acres trying to discover something new. But then something happened, the mere thought of him finding you like this, with Cregan's cock buried in the deepest spot of your cunt, make you drool and clench around the man that was restlessly fucking you. Cregan hummed as your walls tightened around him, and that would only make him go faster.

"You finally are starting to enjoy this, aren't you, my doe?" he teased, squeezing the soft skin of your arse before slapping it, "I'm gonna make you my sweet little mate, darling, I'm never going to get tired of fucking this tiny little hole of yours."

"Mhm… I- I…" you intended to say something, but nothing would come out, he fucked you dumb.

"I'm going to breed you, sweet thing, I'll- fuck," he interrupted his words with a loud groan as he looked down, "I'll make sure to fill you up with my seed every fucking night until you're swollen with my pups."

The way he spoke to you, so shamelessly and unhinged, made you get even more aroused. The thought of being used by him once again stopped making you feel scared, and started to make you feel excited. Your mind sent you images of how good it would feel to have his load dripping from your cunt. But you were not supposed to be enjoying this, you were supposed to be scared, screaming out of fear, not pleasure. This was so wrong.

But it felt so fucking good.

"I will knot you, I will claim you as mine forever," he panted, fastening his pace to an animalistic speed. "I will claim this delicious cunt of yours every fucking night only to make you remember to whom you belong to."

"Yes…" you softly said, barely audible. But Cregan was able to hear it, and that only made him go harder, faster, deeper.

"Yes?" He chuckled, a moan escaping his lips soon after, "Say it."

You drooled under his touch, moaning uncontrollably loud as he kept moving without stopping any second. The sound of your bodies slapping against each other grew louder, both of you were consumed by the desire and lust that you did not care for anything anymore. Your mind went foggy again, and the same feeling was installed in your gut as you desperately tried to move your hips against his.

"Say it!" he repeated, thrusting harder. His sack smacking against your clit, adding more stimulation that made your legs shake.

"Please…" you managed to say, a thin, weak voice that was barely heard. "Oh! Gods, yes!"

"Look how desperate you are for my knot now, my sweet doe," he mockingly laughed, breathing heavily and grunting, "I knew you wanted this as much as I did."

"F-fill me…" you cried out, your cheek bruised with the movement against the rough dirt under you, "oh, yes! yes, please!"

"You're mine now, remember that, little one."

Those were his last words before he started to moan and groan as loud as you. His sweet and obscene sounds were making you wetter, your slick falling to the ground as you felt the head of his thick cock kissing your insides each time he would bury himself in you. He managed to find that sweet spot inside of you, and once his moans turned higher, you felt him stretching you even more.

You froze as you felt him spreading you so much that you thought it would rip you apart. The delicious mixture between the pain and pleasure made you come undone almost immediately; your cum gushing out of your cunt as your vision became blurry and your whole body shook. You soaked him completely, even staining your dress in the process. The pleasure was overwhelming, like flames wrapping your body and making it burn.

It became worse, because Cregan was too focused on searching for his own release that he did not realize how overstimulated you were. You bit your lip so hard that drops of blood fell down on it, Cregan's length going in and out of your abused cunt as rolled his eyes and gasped loudly.

Suddenly, you felt the warmth of his cum painting your walls as you mewled under him. Your hips were still twitching, your legs shaking, and your face soaked with tears of genuine pleasure. Cregan thrust a few times before his knot swelled so much that he was not able to move anymore. Your lower belly had a bump now, as strings of his release filled your insides. You felt so good.

"Take it all," he grunted, "you're mine now, you belong to me…"

He leaned over, leaving soft and careful kisses on your clothed back as his hands roamed around your trembling body. Your dress was still covering those parts of your body, but you were still able to feel how hot his skin was. He was burning, and you were melting in his arms. He started to whisper soft words, but some of them were almost impossible to understand. His soft touch was a big contrast to his prior actions, but you were not complaining.

"So good," he praised you, "so fucking good. You took me so well, such a good little girl you are."

"M-my lord…" you tiredly said, your eyes closing by themselves as a sudden tiredness washed over your body.

"Sh, don't say anything…" he cooed to you, "just go to sleep, my sweet doe, I'll keep you safe forever."

And for some reason, you believed him. The last thing you felt before passing out, was Cregan pulling out, and his seed quickly falling down from you.

Inevitably, and drunk by pleasure, you smiled.

[officialparknerawards]

This Year’s Nominations

Fic Nominations

Best in Fluff

“Potato Gun Mechanics” by hisfirstnamesagent

“confessions (just for you)” by blxrryfxcxd

“(A Picture Can Say) A Thousand Words” by shipskicksandgiggles

“You’re Breathtaking” by Tea_For_One_Please

“Pete, I’m Fake Drunk and Wanna Go Home” by Sarah_Sandwich

Best in Hurt/comfort

“a rainbow doesn’t always have a pot of gold” by Scarlettpin

“She’s My Sister” by Weirdness_36

“For the First Time, Eye to Eye” by Sarah_Sandwich

Best in Angst

“Tools to Fix You” by shipskicksandgiggles

“we were all just humans” by MayWilder

“i wish that i was homeward bound” by thompsborn

“rise and fall of the tides” by enzhe, MayWilder

Best in Fieldtrip

“Obligatory Field Trip Fic” by Dredfulhapiness

Will be open for last minute nominations during voting, provide link in other option

Best in Social Media AU

“A Spider on the Web” by bee bark (nachtwaechterin)

“Potato Gun Mechanics” by hisfirstnamesagent

“creeper, aw man” by impravidus

“twitter beef so salty and scalding hot that it’s a well done steak” by impravidus

Best in Post-No Way Home

“We’re Happy To Serve You” by ExcaliburLibrary

“After You” by WaywardKeener

“i wish that i was homeward bound” by thompsborn

Best in Non-canon Compliant

“Space in Your Bed” by PeachyKeener

“we were all just humans” by MayWilder

“i wish that i was homeward bound” by thompsborn

“Tennessee Whiskey” by Superstitious

“Lemon Boy” by Sarah_Sandwich

Best in College/University

“Too busy being yours” by everythingisconnected

“Or Whatever” by shipskicksandgiggles

“The Hottie Across the Hall” by coconutknightshade

“i wish that i was homeward bound” by thompsborn

Best in Superhero Harley Keener

“it’s always who is spider-man, never how is spider-man” by i_regret_thatpersonalityquiz

“saving peter” by thompsborn

“Parkner Meets Miraculous Ladybug Tropes” by impravidus

Best in Identity Reveal

“Spider At Home (ah-ah)” by the_oncoming_stormageddon

“Simply the Best” by impravidus

“As You Wish” by Superstitious

“Tennessee Whiskey” by Superstitious

Best in Future Fics

“Head in the Stars” by shipskicksandgiggles

“not done yet” by thompsborn

“no one else was in the room where it happened” by LilacsAndLilies

Best in Proposal/Marriage

“The Proposal” by impravidus

“Stuck in the Middle” by impravidus

Will be open for last minute nominations during voting, provide link in other option

Best in Tony Stark Involved

“The Hottie Across the Hall” by coconutknightshade

“Potato Gun Mechanics” by hisfirstnamesagent

“Devils in the Details (but you got a friend in me)” by PeachyKeener

“Well, this is awkward” by Saturning

Best in Soulmates

“Lobsters are mermaids to scorpions” by sammiespider

“Garden Growing” by saladbabie

“promises, promises, promises” by MayWilder

“Skin-Deep” by m4xw3ll

Art Nominations

Best in Digital Art

Harley Keener Introduced At CEO of SI by TEDDY

"Laddie & Spidey !!" by cqlementine

Unnamed by Darka

Best in Physical Art

Aka Peter and Harley won’t stop flirting by Mauvera

Will be open for last minute nominations during voting, provide link in other option

Best in Collage Art

For October Parkner Week by EmmaElsa0000

Will be open for last minute nominations during voting, provide link in other option

Creator Nominations

Best in New Writers

Weirdness_36

DiAngelosBae

Will be open for last minute nominations during voting, provide link in other option

Best in OG Writers

@official-impravidus

@thompsborn

Will be open for last minute nominations during voting, provide link in other option

Best in Artist

@peanuttoffee

@cqlementine

Will be open for last minute nominations during voting, provide link in other option