#sun language theory

[bioswear]

The new nier reincarnation art for the new chapter looks and feels SO drakengard 3 tho - the use of the same blue and white contrasting palette in some of the locations of the cage is just like 👀👀 and it may just be the immense Drakengard 3 brainrot, but it feels a little intentional from a design standpoint

Like, this is the same color palette of Cathedral City as well as similar architecture

This palette reminds me of the Land of Forests - the harshness of contrast in values is also a very Drakengard 3 aspect

This color palette reminds me of the throne room in One’s Cathedral, and during our fight with One in Branch C.

Obviously this is just speculation and pointing out the visual familiarity of the concept art for the new chapter but like… makes you think 👀🤔

[interretialia]

hahahae quid in tarnatione

I need to share this thought on tumblr as well.

This statue of Hyacinthus has the same build as a baby horse.

[baeshijima]

— within uncertainty

sunday reflects on his limited time thus far on the express, only to find himself distracted by a face he has unknowingly become fond of.

CONTAINS : 1.2k wc, gn!reader, astral express member!sunday, fluff

A/N : chat have we seen the lc and gameplay leaks…? throwing up.

When Sunday first arrived on the Astral Express, a miniature gold and crimson ticket attached to his apparel, he wasn’t sure what to expect.

A new start; that much he was sure of. But with these people who instilled a newfound hope and courage to face the future, there was no shadow of a doubt within his heart and soul that he would encounter the unexpected more times than he can keep track of.

Sure enough, the unexpected came in many ways.

For one, March 7th’s uncanny ability to look at the bright side of things appeared so natural to her, so easy and simple. In recent times, he has found himself thinking about situations in a more positive light, no doubt a side effect of having spent time with her bubbly self.

He discovered Dan Heng’s aloof demeanour barely concealed his great care and affection for the crew— the Astral Express family. Even with what seems to be passive quips and dead-eyed stares, Sunday has begun to note the differentiations in his tone and body language, and all the subtleties he only shows with them.

He discovered the Trailblazer was every bit of a jokester as they are courageous, often finding himself staring blankly at some of their… seamlessly timed quips, to put it lightly. Even so, he’s oftentimes caught himself mid-admiration when they take charge in what they believe is right, wondering if he, too, could be like them in that aspect.

He found that Welt, while still retaining the righteous and strong spirit he displayed while in penacony, had a rather unprecedented charm. Sitting down for hours on end listening to the elder ramble passionately about animating, the arts, and endless theories about this universe wasn’t something he had ever planned for, but his heart warmed all the same at the burst of energy.

He came to realise the Express’ Navigator, Himeko, was certainly a… character. Brave, wise and humble were what he would use to describe her, even more so after her warmly welcoming him into the family. However, Sunday realised he could do without that… concoction she dubs a coffee.

He also never realised such a creature existed until he met Pom-Pom, much less one being a sentient conductor. Their nags are backed with overflowing affection for the members of the Express, often displayed through the meticulous care taken in the tailored meals and rooms and experience. There is so much love of the Astral Express, and Sunday wouldn’t be surprised if he were told most of it came from the Conductor.

(Though he does recall being warned by Dan Heng in particular to not anger the Conductor, an experience he is both curious about but also content in not knowing what exactly would transpire.)

And then there is you.

Sunday only caught a glimpse of you during the final moments of the conflict, much like with Himeko, so he didn’t have too much to go off of other than the fact you, just as it seemed to come with being a part of the Astral Express, were brave and fought for what you believed in.

(With you in particular, he found himself unable to forget your gaze — how it held a sparkling resolution and commanded his full attention, completely and utterly drawn in.)

Of course, that’s not to say you don’t embody those aspects now that he’s gotten to know you. Rather, you are so much more than what he could have ever imagined.

“Wow… they’re way softer than they look!”

…In more ways than one.

Sunday doesn’t really know how this situation came to be. He was merely idling around the Express in search of something to pass the time until you took note of his predicament, swooping in like the graceful saviour you are (self-proclaimed by you).

Somehow, in some way, that brought you both to his room.

It’s times like these where Sunday wholeheartedly believes the most forward member of the Astral Express isn’t that racoon-like Trailblazer, but rather you instead.

Seriously. How are you not embarrassed by this… this compromising position you’re both in?! He can practically feel the radius in which the heat from his face permeates!

“Do you, like, have a care routine for them or something?” you ask while gently thumbing individual feathers, because obviously this is only affecting him and him alone. “I refuse to believe your wings are like this naturally.”

He knows he gave you permission to touch them, but it doesn’t change the fact his wings are still sensitive. Aeon knows what you would do with that information; well, assuming you haven’t already picked up on his reactions towards your… ministrations.

“I do have a routine. I go to great lengths pruning and trimming my feathers. More than that…” he trails off, opting to ignore your mumbled comment of “Wow… you’re just like a bird then…”. He coughs, averting his eyes from your intensely gentle gaze, raising a fist to cover his lips. “Are you this forward with everyone?”

You blink. Once, twice, thrice. Somehow, the action makes Sunday fluster even further.

A hum leaves you as your lips purse and your head tilts in thought. “Well, I wouldn’t say everyone, exactly. Just those I consider to be very close to me. Oh,” you begin, as though realising something, “does it bother you? I’m so sorry!”

No— wait— why are you apologising?

“I didn’t realise I was making you uncomfortable! Oh gosh, I did it again…!”

You make a move to scramble away from him. Is it your frantic and unfocused eyes, or perhaps this uncharacteristic side of your usual confident and unabashed self which makes his heart lurch?

“I’m so, so sorry! I’ll keep my distance from now on and—!”

He acts before he can think.

“No!”

There’s a surge of panic which shoots into him. It makes itself known in the raw strain of his voice, in the shaky wide-eyed stare at the thought of you leaving, in the trembling grip he has your arm in.

Really, Sunday doesn’t know what he’s panicking about. He just knows a part of himself would never forgive him for unintentionally pushing you away like this.

A gasp escapes him after a few tense seconds which felt much more like an eternity. With haste, Sunday tears his hand away from your arm. Despite that, he remains in close proximity to you, mustering the courage to look at you once more.

“I… I mean, no, you’re not making me uncomfortable.” Sunday prays you didn’t hear the stammer in his words. And, if you did, then he hopes you don’t bring it up. “If I were feeling as such, I would have told you outright.”

The silence is absolutely suffocating. Even so, Sunday doesn’t dare look away from your stunned expression, not even when he’s almost positive his face is about to melt off from the sheer heat radiating from him.

“Oh.” You blink, expression falling into that of neutrality. A nod of understanding is your next action; understanding of what? Sunday has no clue — he’s not sure he even wants to know. “So you’re that type, huh. I see now.”

Nevermind. Maybe he does.

“…What does that mean? Wait— [Name], come back here! Explain what ‘that type’ means! Are you listening?!”

Suffice to say, Sunday never received a verbal response from you. Only your cheeky grin before you left and a plethora of butterflies fluttering amok within his stomach are all that remains.

Yeah. Sunday didn’t know what to expect when joining the Astral Express; in fact, he still doesn’t know what to expect. Despite being thrown into the unknown, he finds himself thinking this situation to not be so bad after all.

if you enjoyed this, reblogs and/or comments are greatly appreciated <33

[theskywithin]

Birth Chart Breakdown: Planets in The Eleventh House

☉ Sun in the Eleventh House You dream of becoming someone who inspires. Someone whose path doesn’t just lead forward, but lights the way for others, too. You want your life to mean something beyond survival. You long to be recognized not just for what you achieve, but for the courage it takes to hold onto your vision when no one else sees it yet. Somewhere in you, there’s still a child who believed anything was possible, and you're building a future to prove them right.

☽ Moon in the Eleventh House You carry your dreams like fragile paper boats, hoping someone will notice them drifting across the water and help guide them home. You long for emotional connection that doesn’t ask you to shrink. You want to be part of something that feels like a soul-tribe, where you don’t have to explain your feelings to be understood. The future you imagine isn’t built on fame or followers, it’s built on tenderness, and the safety of being loved without translation.

☿ Mercury in the Eleventh House Your dreams live in language. Ideas, visions, scattered thoughts that piece themselves into constellations when you speak them out loud. You long to find the ones who will hear your wildest theories and say, “Tell me more.” You want your voice to ripple. You want your words to mean something. The future you dream of isn’t quiet, it’s conversational, alive with minds meeting in midair.

♀ Venus in the Eleventh House You’re building a dream out of beauty. A life that feels like it was made with intention and soul. You long to share your ideals, not just to be admired, but to be mirrored. You crave connection that feels like co-creation, like building something meaningful together. You don’t want attention. You want resonance. Aesthetic is part of it, but alignment is what you’re really after.

♂ Mars in the Eleventh House Your dreams don’t sit still. They sprint. They kick. They demand. You want a future that moves, a life that’s driven by purpose, by action, by the fire in your chest. You’re not content just dreaming, you want to do. You need allies, not followers. People who are just as restless, just as rebellious, just as committed to changing something. For you, dreaming is a kind of battle and you’re ready to fight for what you believe in.

♃ Jupiter in the Eleventh House You dream in wide, borderless shapes. You believe there’s enough room in the world for everyone to rise and you want to be a part of lifting others. You crave a future that’s joyful, generous, expansive. A future that reflects your hope, not your fear. People feel better around you, even when you don’t try. And deep down, you hope your presence alone can be a light someone else was waiting for.

♄ Saturn in the Eleventh House You don’t dream loudly, but you dream seriously. Carefully. You carry hopes that have been tested by disappointment, but never extinguished. You fear not belonging, not because you need approval, but because you want to contribute something real. You long to find your place in the world, a place earned, not given. And even if your dreams take time, you’re willing to build them brick by brick until they stand taller than your doubts.

�� Uranus in the Eleventh House You dream of a life that doesn’t exist yet, so you start creating it. You don’t want to belong to a system that asks you to be less. You’d rather walk alone than be part of something that silences you. But still, you hope. Hope for a future where freedom and belonging can coexist. Where you don’t have to choose between being accepted and being real. You’re not here to follow trends, you’re here to shape tomorrows.

♆ Neptune in the Eleventh House You dream of a world that feels softer. Deeper. More connected. You carry visions of soul-level belonging, people who just know you, without explanation. You feel the future like a scent on the wind: sweet, elusive, possible. You’re not naive, you’re intuitive. And even when the world feels heavy, you keep dreaming. Because the dream, for you, is the compass.

♇ Pluto in the Eleventh House You want to leave a mark, not for ego, but for impact. You dream of building something that transforms not just you, but the world around you. You crave influence that matters. Change that sticks. But you also fear what it might cost. The isolation. The responsibility. Still, you keep going. Because you weren’t born to blend in. You were born to reshape what people thought was possible.

🪐 Want to decode your chart? It’s all in my book- The Sky Within

[internetdaddy98]

Somatic Response

Previous | Next [Series Masterlist]

Pairing: Dr. Michael ��Robby” Robinavitch x F!SeniorResident!Reader Summary: Robby, once so disciplined, gives in fully to his obsession with learning every hidden part of you, the quietest girl in the ER. Word Count: 1.8 K Content Warning: 18+ MDNI, Explicit Content, Explicit Language,

He should’ve known better than to think he could spend the whole day with you without making you fall apart in his hands.

But restraint had never been his strong suit when it came to you. Not since the first time you made a noise for him, soft, sweet, breaking against his mouth like something sacred.

Now it was an addiction. A study. A need.

He wanted to find out and he wasn’t going to rest until he tested his theories. 

You stood barefoot on the hardwood in his old college hoodie, sleeves swallowing your hands, hair messy from the pillows. He handed you coffee, one sugar, just how you liked it, and leaned against the counter, eyes dark over the rim of his own mug.

“Sleep okay?” he asked.

You nodded, lips parted around the rim of the cup, cheeks already flushed. You didn’t answer out loud. He took the cup from your hand and set it down, then stepped close and tilted your chin up gently with a finger.

“You don’t have to talk,” he murmured, voice barely audible. “But I’m going to find a way to hear every sound you’ve never made before.”

You shivered. And when he kissed you , deep, slow, the kind of kiss that unraveled time, you made the softest sound against his tongue.

He smirked.

That was one.

—---------------------------------------------

You had undressed to get in the shower. He followed you in.

You didn’t protest.

Water traced down your skin, he pressed your hands to the tiled wall and kissed down your shoulder, your neck, the space just behind your ear, and when his hands moved lower, you whimpered, biting your lip.

“Don’t do that,” he said against your skin. “Don’t hide from me.”

You didn’t. Not after that.

The way you gasped when he slid two fingers into you while whispering exactly what he planned to do later, you said his name like a prayer.

It was filthy. It was holy.

That’s two.

—-------------------------

Lunch was abandoned somewhere around the fifteen-minute mark.

You sat straddling his lap, the remains of a takeout container on the floor, your knees bracketing his thighs. He had his fingers hooked under the hem of your shirt, running the pad of his thumb in slow, lazy circles beneath the fabric while you tried to finish telling him a story about your intern.

Tried.

Failed.

Because every time you paused to catch your breath, he kissed just below your ear. Teased the edge of your bra. Bit lightly at your collarbone. Your voice faltered completely when he slipped a hand into your sweatpants and found you already warm and wet.

“You were telling me something,” he murmured, lips brushing your temple.

You arched into him. “I can’t, I can’t think, fuck Michael-”

He grinned into your hair. That’s three.

—--------------------------------------

He wanted to ruin you.

Not cruelly. Never that. But intimately. With admiration. Like someone learning how to worship.

He laid you out in the middle of his bed, the sun soft on your skin, your fingers tangled in the sheets as he edged you with his mouth over and over until you were gasping.

Your thighs shook against his shoulders.

Your hand fisted in his hair, tugging with helpless need.

You weren't quiet anymore.

You were begging.

“Please, Michael, please”

He gave in only when he was sure you’d never be able to forget what it sounded like when you broke.

You sobbed his name when you came. Loud, raw, completely unguarded.

That was Four. Five. Six. Maybe more.

He’d lost count.

—-----------------------------------

They were supposed to make dinner.

He kissed you up against the fridge instead. Your legs wrapped around his waist. His hands under your thighs. Your hair wild, your lips swollen, your breath caught in his mouth. You moaned into his neck when he pressed himself against you.

He leaned in, voice gravel-rough and low.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to fuck the shyness out of you?”

You whimpered.

“I’m going to make you say everything you’ve ever swallowed down. Every noise you thought you had to keep quiet. I want to hear them all, Sher.”

You kissed him hard, desperate, teeth catching on his lower lip.

He carried you to the counter without breaking contact.

Dinner was forgotten.

—---------------------------------------

They were watching some movie you loved. Or trying to. You curled beside him, worn out and pink-cheeked, your head tucked into the curve of his neck. But your hand had crept under the blanket to his thigh, and he couldn’t focus on a single damn frame.

“You’ve made your point,” you whispered, teasing.

He turned his head slowly. “No.”

His voice was velvet. Dangerous.

“Not even close.”

You smiled and leaned into his chest.

And he knew he was done for.

By the time you left the next morning, his bed still smelled like you, and he didn’t care that he’d have to walk into the ER like he hadn’t spent twenty-four hours losing his mind to the quietest girl in the hospital.

But you weren't quiet anymore.

Not with him.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’d come in fresh from a day off, lips still swollen from his mouth, thighs still sore in the best way. You wore your hair tied back tightly, your pink hoodie unzipped, your ID badge not-quite-straight.

You told yourself you could be professional.

You told yourself he could, too.

But you hadn’t counted on the look in his eyes when you walked past him in the morning huddle, when he leaned over your shoulder to grab the chart out of your hands like it hadn’t been an excuse to let his breath skim your neck.

You hadn’t counted on the way his voice had dropped low and close when he said your name during rounds, or how your fingers clenched the chart too hard when he called you “Doctor Sheridan” like it was something filthy only he got to say that way.

You hadn’t counted on needing him like that.

Not again. Not this soon.

Definitely not here.

You’d just finished bagging a code, your hair was a mess, you smelled like adrenaline and blood and antiseptic, and he looked at you like he wanted to rip your scrubs off with his teeth.

You were trying to chart. You really were.

But then he came too close, leaning over your shoulder, watching the screen, one palm flat beside your hand. You could feel the heat of him at your back, the outline of his chest brushing yours.

“You missed a timestamp,” he murmured, mouth right near your ear.

You looked up at him, your breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your spine.

“Fix it for me, then,” you whispered.

His mouth twitched. “Don’t tempt me.”

You already had.

You’d gone into the supply closet for IV tubing.

He followed you.

Of course he did.

The door clicked shut behind him and you turned, and he was already there, backing you against the shelves, one hand braced beside your head, the other curling around your hip.

His voice was rough. Low.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You swallowed hard.

“We’re at work.”

He kissed you anyway.

It was nothing like his usual restraint. It was teeth and tongue and possessive heat, his hands sliding up your scrub top, palm grazing over your bare skin. His fingers found the waistband of your pants. You gasped.

“Michael!”

“I need to hear you,” he growled against your neck, hand sliding lower. “Just one sound. One.”

You almost gave it to him. Your back arched. Your mouth parted. You were seconds away from moaning his name right into the collar of his scrubs when—

“Shit! someone’s coming.”

The sound of footsteps. Two voices, probably Santos and Whittaker, arguing over something like usual.

He didn’t pull away. His hand was still down your pants. His eyes locked on yours. His body flush to yours in that dark closet that suddenly felt too hot, too small. Your heart was pounding.

The voices passed.

Silence.

“Do it again,” you whispered, your hips jerking forward without permission. “Please.”

He groaned into your neck, kissed you like he couldn’t breathe without it, and pulled his hand back just as your knees nearly buckled.

“Later,” he promised, voice thick and dark. “I promise.” He barely made it through the end of the shift. Every chart blurred. Every trauma became a haze of motion and barked orders and adrenaline soaked in lust. You hadn’t looked at him once after that closet. Not directly.

But your hands were trembling.

And when you handed off the final signout sheet and turned toward the exit , you didn’t even ask.

He was already following.

------------------------------------------------------------------

His front door had barely clicked shut before he shoved you against it, mouth covering yours in something messy and starving. His hands were everywhere, under your shirt, fisting the fabric, tugging at your scrub pants, yanking your hair back just to see your face.

“You knew what you were doing,” he muttered against your neck, biting just hard enough to make you moan. “Walking past me in those scrubs. Talking back to me. Letting me touch you and acting like it didn’t drive you just as fucking crazy.”

You whimpered. “It did.”

“I know.”

He spun you then, pressed you against the wall with a hand firm at the back of your neck. His other slipped between your legs again, not tentative this time. Not cautious.

“You’re always so silent at work,” he said lowly. “So careful. Little mouse, let’s see what it takes to pull every goddamn sound out of you.”

And then he was on his knees.

Right there in his hallway.

You gasped. Tried to say his name.

He silenced you with his mouth.

Later, it was the couch. The kitchen counter. The edge of his bed, where he bent you over with your pants around your ankles and whispered, “You can take it, sweetheart. You’re mine to take.”

Every time you cried out, he bit back a groan like he could bottle the sound.

He needed to hear you come undone.

He needed to be the one to do it.

He didn’t even know who he was right now, just a man with shaking hands and a never ending hard-on that had been torturing him all shift, drinking down the sounds you made like they were water and he’d been parched for years.

And you, you took it all. Soft thighs spread for him. Fingers clawing at his shoulders. Voice finally breaking in gasps and pleas he never imagined he’d hear from your lips.

“Michael—please—don’t stop—”

He didn’t.

Not until you were shaking, legs weak and messy beneath him, throat raw from moaning his name into his mouth. Not until he knew no one else would ever get this. No one would ever hear you the way he had.

After, in the quiet, you curled into his chest.

You didn’t say much.

You didn’t have to.

Your body said everything, the way you reached for him without hesitation, the way your cheek tucked beneath his chin like you belonged there. He kissed the top of your head and joined you in deep slumber.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Want to join the taglist? shoot me a comment! @rosiepoise88 @nosebeers @andabuttonnose @luvr4miya @cannonindeez @hagarsays @captainoates @lemonlime09 @delicateflorencia @iceb1ink1uck @moonshooter @qardasngan @penbridgertonn @foreverchangingfandoms @msdariaknight

[alfascorpiionux]

Astro notes ~ part 3

Aquarius Sun: can be surprisingly self-sacrificing. They are private people who let only very few select people close. The evolved version of this placement is very sweet if a little clumsy and devoted, sometimes to the wrong people.

Libra Sun: much like Leo Sun, could be quite vain, perhaps not in as pronounced of a manner, but for sure there is a sense of entitlement, at least on the intellectual front. Indecisive in love and probably keep their options open for some time.

Aries Moons: could be quite shy and indecisive. They could be bottling up their emotions and then explode, depending on other placements.

Especially the woman may feel the need to temper her own intensity/reactions if she feels it’s not received well. Or she may simply not have had the chance to openly discuss what she really feels. Either way, the intensity is there and they can’t hide what they feel forever. From what I’ve noticed, these natives definitely have a mind of their own and are quite independent.

Virgo Mercuries: you’re very good at explaining things aren’t you? People may look for you if they need guidance as you are very patient and methodical and definitely like learning things more in depth. You explain things in a manner everybody understands.

However, it may be difficult for you to express what you really feel or you don’t want to seem vulnerable. It’s okay to be less cerebral and precise and let go once in a while. Allow yourself some drama/chaos. Very few things in life are as we’d imagine them. Don’t close yourself off. There might be people wishing to be there for you but you don’t let them.

Pisces Mars: do you realise your laid-back, “always-go-with-the-flow” attitude pisses others off? Many time they might not know where to place you. You might be super hard-working and still people may judge you for seemingly not doing enough. You are creative and spiritual which attracts others but at the same time your passive-aggressiveness, or victim mentality are off-putting. Conflict is necessary at times. It helps us learn from our own mistakes and those of others and facilitates our growth. Don’t avoid it. Also, don’t seek the most roundabout way to get what you want. Sometimes asking for it is enough.

Aquarius Mercury: there is a real possibility of speech difficulties being present. The native has many ideas but finds it difficult to put them into words. There is a “fizzy” quality to the way they speak. They can get super passionate about certain topics and amaze others with the knowledge they accumulate, the theories they develop or conclusions they reach.

Favours facts, reason and logic in their communication over emotional expression. They may be huge nerds, give off mad scientist vibes or be the loners always lost in their thoughts.

Many personal planets in 2nd house: your property is your little baby, yes? With this placement there is a real possibility of falling into greed. You certainly want to make money and have one or multiple nice properties to go home to. A lot more than other people do. You are a hard worker and provider for your family.

Depending on other placements, giving and/or receiving gifts could be your love language. You love having your own money (lots of it!) and spending it to your heart’s content. You could totally be into business and make a successful entrepreneur. Be careful though: never let your goal of making money overshadow everything else in your life. Personal relationships: love, family, friendships are very important. Stop putting them at the very end of your priorities list.

Many personal planets in 10th house (especially Sun, Mercury, Mars): you are the definition of a hard-worker. You love doing things right, if possible excellently. Praise and gratitude in your profesional life please you like few other things can. Sure, you work to get money, but more than anything it’s because you feel it’s your responsibility to handle. Like your job gives special meaning to your life. Makes you different from the rest of the world in a good way.

Work troubles, failures could affect you more than other people, shaking your belief in yourself and your abilities. Same as with 2nd house placements, or maybe even more: take a very good look at your priorities list. Don’t fool yourself into thinking you don’t need relationships. Because you know you don’t really believe it either. Make space for people to enter your life and to get to know you and be with you. Living for your career alone is a lonesome and ultimately unsatisfying path.

Mercury in 3rd house: communication plays an important role in your life, for better or for worse. If you are a good at expressing yourself then it’s a gift and blessing. If not, then it’s a horrid curse. The way you express yourself has a strong impact on those around you. Stop denying the obvious. Being an introvert and a recluse doesn’t excuse tardiness in communication and leaving things up to misinterpretation. It only creates headaches for everybody involved, including yourself!

There is a real potential to become a charismatic, witty, sharp-minded individual with this position as well as a good multitasker. You’re an adaptable and very curious learner who needs mental stimulation. You may find it easier than others to learn new languages.

Lilith in 5th house | Saturn in 1st, 5th, 7th house | Aspects between Saturn an Venus/Mars: you may reject physical affection or feel a diminished need for it. You may also have an unusual relationship to physical touch, needing it in surprising moments, or just in specific ways.

Chiron in 8th house: attracts situations and people that hurt them one way or another. A deeply karmic placement. The wounds are centered around intimacy, trust, shared-resources, loss and transformation. You may find it very hard to trust people and let them close. You fear losing the people close to you. There could be struggles with power and control in your personal relationships. In order to heal, doing shadow work and spiritual practices is a good choice. You could use crystals, music, energy healing or whatever resonates with you the most. Also redefining what intimacy means to you is of special importance.

Lilith in Leo: could attract toxic people in love, individuals who don’t value them for the beautiful souls they actually are. Power struggles are possible.

On the upside, they are very charismatic, individualistic and captivating people with plenty of creativity. There is an authoritative air to the way they carry themselves. They have amazing style and always feel the need to look strong in public. They have a strong ego and are quite stubborn. They love getting plenty of attention, though they might not admit it’s true.

A person with Lilith in Leo probably had one or both parents who very emotionally distant/neglectful and it could indicate having a highly strict, even dictatorial father.

Instead of constantly looking for validation outside, look inside of yourself. You are worthy exactly the way you are, you charming soul. You need not prove a thing to anyone or get anybody’s attention. It’s a foul tarp that’ll make you sink lower the further you try to move. Other people’s opinion of you it’s just an opinion and that’s all. How do you actually see yourself? What is truly of importance in your life? Those are questions you should ask yourself.

1st house Lilith: a conflicting relationship when it comes to body image, self-expression, self-confidence or your sexuality. Since childhood you may have felt rejected by other people and not because you said or did anything upsetting but just by the virtue of being yourself. It’s like they can sense the rebellious, wild energy you embody and feel intimidated by it. You may feel like you don’t really fit in with any group of people. Being shy, insecure and having weak boundaries in childhood could be very likely.

Body-image issues: people might be making many comments about your body or you might feel insecure about the way you like, constantly feeling like you could look better it’s not enough. Generally this placement is said to give a very beautiful and attractive body with darker eyes and hair.

Many people likely feel attracted to you and your presence definitely makes itself known in a room.

Self-expression issues: you may find that people purposefully ignore what you say or are pissed when you open your mouth even to ask a simple question. You may feel very insecure about your voice or the way you express yourself. You may find it very difficult to find people on the same wavelength as you and building authentic and close relationships also might not come easily.

Self-confidence and boundaries: they are usually developed as the native grows in age. In youth these people can be quite shy.

On the upside: you exude uniqueness, wild and raw sexual energy and you definitely have a magnetic presence that draws others in.

The key with this Lilith placement is to accept yourself and stand up for yourself no matter what. Have confidence in your worth as a person and strong boundaries. Never let anybody disrespect you. Not once. It could otherwise become a habit. Many people will like you while others will hate you. It’s just the way it is. Might as well accept that you are different from others, embrace it and make the absolute best out of it.

Thanks for reading!! Hope my observations resonate with you. Would love to chat you guys.😄🩷

[writethrough]

I Know Better

(Billy Hargrove x Female Reader)

Synopsis: You've heard every rumor about Billy Hargrove—from the girls, the guys, the teachers, the parents—it never interested you all that much. Until one of those pesky rumors involved you.

Warnings: Language, slut-shaming

Word Count: 1396

A/N: This is the first stop on the apology tour for everyone who's sent me in a request. It's been a year for some of you, and I'm so sorry and grateful for your patience.

I had a really hard time starting this in the sense that I had so many ideas, but none of them fit with this prompt. So, it took me a while to settle on the story I wanted to tell. I had to stop thinking about this as a “Billy is mean to everyone” fic, and start considering it a “You are Billy’s soft spot” fic. It had to be a “How is he different because of you?” And then it sort of clicked.  

This is a sort of soft-launch to a larger something. I'm not sure if it will turn into a full multi-part fic or just spontaneous additions in this little fanfic universe.

And to the anon who requested this, Tumblr ate your request when I tried saving it to my drafts, so I really, really hope you come across it.

I hope you enjoy!

Anon Request: “Another Billy request idea is “he’s mean as fuck to everyone but me

"Like??? Maybe I need to go to therapy but the hard as stone exterior on that boy and the thought of him being sweet as pie to his girl makes me mush” 

Moodboard by @saradika

Billy Hargrove never scared you. 

Not even in high school when all you heard about was his bark and bite and overall terrible attitude. 

You didn’t cross paths often, surprisingly so with how small Hawkins was, but sometimes you’d get glimpses of him against his locker or waiting by his car. 

You still remembered the time he pulled in beside you as you were shutting your door. 

Max had waved at you before rushing off to the middle school. Then, Billy had slowly risen, lighting a cigarette in the process, and locked eyes with you. 

He greeted you by name, a lazy smile spreading across his lips, and sauntered away. 

You had replayed that morning for the next two weeks, stunned that he knew your name let alone gave you the time of day. 

It was a month or two afterward when you actually witnessed Billy at his worst. 

You weren’t there for the start, but you had turned a corner in the halls and were met with other students gawking at a fight. 

You shoved your way between teenagers, intent to get to your class before the bell rang when that mullet stopped you. 

Billy had been looming over Roger, the school’s very own sleazy douchebag. 

In your mind, whatever that prick had said or done, he absolutely deserved the consequences Billy was doling out. 

You were about to continue walking when Billy leaned in closer to him with a tilt of his head. And until that point, you didn’t know that gesture could be so menacing. 

“Wanna say that again?” 

Your brows pulled in confusion. 

What could Roger have said that made Billy so furious? 

It must have been some insult, something that cut right to whatever insecurities Billy hid from the world. You really couldn’t imagine what he’d be self-conscious about. To you, Billy was the epitome of confidence. 

Billy’s eyes caught your shoes, and you swore his shoulders tensed. He trailed up your body and met your gaze, grinding his teeth. 

He slowly straightened, and without another word, stormed out of the building. 

Mrs. Click finally arrived and disbanded everyone and helped Roger to the nurse’s office. 

Your last class was full of whispered theories and passing notes. 

I heard he keyed Billy’s car. 

No, Billy definitely slept with the chick Roger was eyeing up. 

Could’ve sworn I heard Roger call some girl a slut-in-the-making. 

The day couldn’t have been over soon enough. 

At least it was the weekend, and in a month, you’d be graduating. 

You were walking to your car, sun in your eyes, and didn’t see Billy leaning against it until you were too close to pretend you forgot something to head back inside. 

“Hey,” he said, putting out his cigarette. 

“Hi,” you said slowly, gripping your backpack strap. 

“You okay?” His hands slipped in his pockets. 

Your furrowed your brow. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” 

He chuckled. “Fair enough.” 

He pushed off your car and took a few steps toward you. 

It was really the first chance you had to take in how blue his eyes were. And while normally you’d look away as you held each other's gaze, something planted you where you stood. 

He had the barest of smirks, so slight that you’d dare call it a smile. 

“If I said I wasn’t alright, would you agree to hang out tomorrow?” he asked. 

You let out a surprised laugh and glanced down. This was the first conversation you’d ever had with Billy, and he was asking you out. 

This was probably how he operated. He’d set his sights on some girl, give them that eat-you-alive smirk, and you’d wake up alone Sunday morning without even a note saying “bye.” 

But even with all that, your curiosity won out. So you made a deal. 

“Tell me what that was all about, and I’ll be there.” 

There was a flash of anger, but you didn’t think it was toward you. Leftover feelings for whatever happened no doubt. Then, he softened in a way you had never seen before. 

“I’ll pick you up at six,” he said, beginning to walk away. He turned around before he could get too far. “Don’t bring a jacket.” 

“Why?” You couldn’t help your smile. 

“You’ll have mine.” 

The cocky grin would’ve been irritating with anyone else, but Billy’s was endearing. 

You drove home with a stupid smile plastered on your face, and you stayed that way until Billy rapped on your door. 

— 

That Saturday night, he tried to breeze past his altercation. Until you leveled him with a sincere look and said his name. 

He had leaned back in the booth, ripping his remaining fries in pieces to distract himself. 

“He pissed me off,” Billy said, still maintaining his gruffness. 

“I figured as much,” you said gently. You knew if he sensed anything else, you wouldn’t get any answers. 

He huffed, glancing at you before returning to his basket of food. 

“The prick said somethin’ he shouldn’t have.” He shrugged. “I told him as much.” 

You nodded slowly, narrowing your eyes in thought. Billy wasn’t know to beat around the bush. He said what he thought, and you kind of admired that about him. Even if that got him in trouble. But the way he wasn’t maintaining eye contact when that was his favorite way to throw someone off guard was suspicious. He was hiding something, of course, but it felt more than hiding something from you alone. 

You took a shot in the dark. 

“Are you…Are you not telling me what he said because it was about me?” 

His jaw clenched and hands stopped. 

So, that was it. Roger had said something nasty about you, and for whatever reason, Billy took it upon himself to…defend your honor? 

But why? 

And what could it have been to make Billy react like that? You hardly knew each other. 

You inhaled deeply. “Okay. Tell me what he said.” 

“You don’t need to hear his bullshit.” He met your gaze, steady and stern. You wanted to slap your chest to keep your heart from skipping. 

“Billy,” you started, “I promise whatever he said isn’t going to affect me. I just want to know why you had him on the ground.” 

At this point, you had dissociated from high school and the people in it. All that mattered was graduation. 

“What does it matter?” His tone came out more harsh than you anticipated, but the way his face pinched told you he didn’t mean for it to happen. 

You leaned on the table. “Because I’ve had a really nice time so far. And as much as I appreciate you standing up for me. If you wanna continue this,” you gestured between you both, “you can’t beat the shit outta people.” 

“You wanna go out again?” His eyebrows rose slightly, and your cheeks warmed. 

Of course, that was what he took away. 

“Billy,” you warned playfully. 

“Alright,” he sighed. “He caught me starin’ at you a few times. Said your legs were locked shut, but I could probably get them open.” 

You scrunched up your nose. You knew Roger had to have said something vulgar, but you were more surprised it was about you then the actual content. 

“Okay. Was that all?” Sure, it was gross, but that didn’t seem like something Billy would lose his shit over. 

“That happened last week,” he admitted. “Told him to shut the hell up, and I thought that was that.” He shifted in his seat. “Guess he saw you lookin’ at me and he started callin’ you names. And then I hit’im.” 

Names.  

You could hazard a guess what names he called you. Probably the same ones he called every other female who didn’t wanna sleep with him. Ones that would describe him more than you. 

You reached across the table and grabbed his wrist. 

“Thank you for telling me,” you said. “And I need you to know, I don’t give a single fuck what that dipshit thinks.” 

He chuckled, putting his hand on top of yours. 

“So, that mean a second date is in the books?” he asked. 

“Like I said, only if you don’t punch someone when they say something you don’t like,” you said, hoping your face conveyed how serious you were. 

He leaned his elbows on the table. 

“I was thinkin’ a movie for next time.” 

Taglist: @bookshelf-dust, @steph-speaks, @nix-rose, @ballerina-orchid, @realmermaidariel

If you’d like to be added to any taglists, please comment or message me with the character you’d like updates on. 

[fxirybun]

☕ PAC: some facts about your next partner

not my usual way of making a pac reading ‘cause this time i'm gonna use the bullet form ^_^

this is a collective reading ! take what resonates and leave what doesn't. i cannot guarantee 100% accuracy. take the pac reading lightly ჱ̒ ｰ̀֊ｰ́ )

ෆ⸒⸒ book 📓

𐙚 came from a very rich family or has a wealthy background.

𐙚 they're not into "labels" or jump into a relationship quickly.

𐙚 may possibly have a small circle of friends in their life.

𐙚 an introvert or a quite type , your next partner prefers to be lowkey.

𐙚 has this magnetic charm that makes others feel drawn by them without even trying.

𐙚 mysterious to the point you won't figure them out right away.

𐙚 may prolly be into something artsy stuff.

𐙚 very independent and doesn't like clingy people around them.

𐙚 has a resting b*tch face or rbf look.

𐙚 has a lot of goals in their life they wish to achieved now.

𐙚 is very successful with their career , earns a lot of money from it.

𐙚 you're expected to meet them in some random , unplanned way. a possibility of a friend who will introduce you to this person.

𐙚 may have issues with their family but still has a lot of fond for them.

𐙚 super practical with their things and doesn't tend to overspend.

𐙚 this person is into slow burn romance when it comes to love.

𐙚 it takes time to get to know them 'cause they be hiding something.

𐙚 your next partner has trust issues due to their past.

𐙚 they've gone through a lot which has changed them drastically.

𐙚 knows how to bounce back from whatever the universe has thrown at them.

𐙚 they're worth the effort to go for them so..

𐙚 once they're starting to open up to you , they're all in for the ride.

𐙚 geez once you got into a rs with them , they're gonna be hella flirty.

𐙚 their love language is words of affirmation , a smooth talker.

𐙚 loves giving tons of compliments to make you feel confident about yourself.

𐙚 the type to surprise you with little things that you may not notice.

𐙚 an example is trying to match with your pfp whilst you're unaware.

𐙚 emotional af 'cause they feel things deeply. once they care , they're gonna care hard.

𐙚 is into aesthetics , trying to look good about themselves 24/7.

𐙚 may into decorating their room or space that suits their taste.

𐙚 possibly into spirituality or at least has a belief on something.

EXTRAS : water , fire , & earth energies , leo , aries , cancer , virgo , capricorn , sun , venus , mercury , saturn , very intuitive or psychic , has daddy vibes / dom , puts faith in the universe , sees things that others don't , knows how to balance their schedule , 4 , 6 , 3 , 2 , E , Z , Y , B , L , 10:10 , 3:33 , 666 , 555 , 4:44 , paris , dove , leaf , heart , anchor.

ෆ⸒⸒ drinks🧋

𐙚 they're a bit guarded with their emotions at first.

𐙚 doesn't fall in love very easily , is lowkey bad at catching feelings.

𐙚 slow to open up at first but once they do they're gonna act deep.

𐙚 very active online , always stay on trends about what's going on.

𐙚 not into dating apps , you may meet them irl , or through social media. may also try to slide into your dms.

𐙚 may not be into oversharing but once they feel comfortable you'll be shocked about the things they gonna say.

𐙚 your next partner can be the type who asks a lot of questions.

𐙚 super curious to know things , can be a yapper at times.

𐙚 loves to engage in deep convos with others , they're very smart.

𐙚 their mind runs in motions ‘cause they be absorbing a lot of infos.

𐙚 knows how to create jokes or just them acting all witty.

𐙚 an info junkie , gives random facts , trivias , or conspiracy theories.

𐙚 the type who's a workaholic , they be grinding their ass off to work.

𐙚 may have multiple jobs : one main & other a side hustle / freelance.

𐙚 has a perfectionist streak , tends to double-check everything.

𐙚 always going through a glow-up process in their lives.

𐙚 your next partner can be a bit sentimental about their past.

𐙚 example is still keeping their fave hoodie back from high school.

𐙚 lowkey a romantic person but doesn't show it in obvious ways.

𐙚 a detail freak , they be noticing the tiniest things you wouldn't even think of.

𐙚 even though they're serious they still got their playful energy within them.

𐙚 not the most to be open but very loyal once they're in for a rs.

𐙚 has a good relationship with their mother.

𐙚 your next partner is wiser beyond their years.

𐙚 they do vibe checks on others due to how intuitive they are.

𐙚 can read the room and know what's going on.

𐙚 very talented in one area , whether it's art , music , etc.

𐙚 if someone did them dirty they gonna cut them off quickly.

𐙚 the type who is "forgive but never forget" kind of person.

𐙚 faced a lot of heavy situations yet they remained triumph over it.

EXTRAS : water , earth , & air energies , cancer , gemini , virgo , scorpio , moon , mercury , pluto , dealt with heartbreak before , likes to form connections , may take time to rest as a way to recharge their social battery , waiting for their efforts to come into fruition , 4 , 3 , 2 , H , O , J , C , M , 444 , 5:55 , 1:11 , 12:12 , 4:44 , 666 , clover , star , cupid's arrow , eyeglasses , unicorn.

ෆ⸒⸒ paint 🎨

𐙚 your next partner is giving golden retriever vibes , likes to hug from behind.

𐙚 the kind of person who can light up the room by just being there.

𐙚 can turn any bad day around with their sense of humor.

𐙚 this person is very responsible with whatever they're doing.

𐙚 acts ambitious and is seen as a go-getter for some people.

𐙚 is patient with everything but may tend to miss out on things.

𐙚 the reason : they think that the world runs on their time.

𐙚 your next partner always think before they do something.

𐙚 you can always rely on them when you need help with tasks.

𐙚 this person acts or seen as the “mother” of a whole friend group.

𐙚 someone who's faithful but can be a lil bit sensitive at times.

𐙚 very creative with something that is seen as an inspiration for others.

𐙚 may have a hidden talent like painting , writing , music , etc.

𐙚 there are tons of people who look up to them as their role model.

𐙚 this person could possibly be a psychic or has a good intuition.

𐙚 a sharp thinker that enjoys engaging in deep conversations.

𐙚 smart and isn’t afraid to speak up their mind about a topic.

𐙚 they take no bs from others and remains true to themselves only.

𐙚 knows how to balance their time with work and relationships.

𐙚 your next partner values honesty in communication.

𐙚 always down for trying new things or having some fun with you.

𐙚 a good support buddy for their friends , has a "ride or die" energy.

𐙚 has a knack for seeing the bright side in every difficult situations.

𐙚 this person is into friendly debates that challenges the norms.

𐙚 they're all about that getting the "bag" and they're serious about it.

𐙚 somehow i kept on getting the lyrics "i need a big boy , give me a big boy" lmao.

𐙚 lowkey has simp vibes or a hopeless romantic but they don't show it right away.

𐙚 has a chill energy or simply the type who has that go-with-the-flow attitude.

𐙚 this person can act as your safe place when life gets messy for you.

𐙚 they don't stress themselves over the little things.

EXTRAS : fire , water , earth , air energies , leo , taurus , virgo , cancer , pisces , libra , gemini , sun , saturn , mercury , moon , neptune , venus , very truthful with their words , this person is physically strong , a lover boy / girl at heart , loves the whole ides of romance in general , has a strong spiritual ties with their ancestors , 1 , 2 , 8 , 7 , C , I , V , R , S , 12:12 , 3:33 , 999 , 666 , 777 , music note , monkey , made with love , rose , fairy.

[cryptotheism]

ct. you know many thimgs. can you teach me what a "prostate orgasm" is & how to get one

So back in the middle ages, many magicians felt that the world was primarily ruled astrologically. The planets, the moon and the sun, and signs of the zodiac, were all a sort of heavenly language that God used to administer the world.

The evidence for this was the similarities of things. The sign of cancer looked like a crab, therefore it ruled over crabs, and all things like crabs. So the sign of cancer was connected in some way to any thing reclusive, hard-shelled, furtive, and self-reliant. This idea, that the star signs and planets are connected to qualities on earth, is known as "The Doctrine of Signatures."

This extends to the body! Check out this image from De Occulta Philosophia, in which Agrippa shows which star signs rule over which elements of the body.

(yes that diagram on the left is what horoscope charts used to look like.)

This diagram is from the 1500s. Take note of the planetary associations on the left here. The core of the body is associated with the sun, but the genitals, the genitals are lunar. (Because they ebb and flow like the tides as they get excited.)

Humorously, but also as significant magical commentary, Alieststair Crowley would extend this conception of the Magical Solar Internal Core of the body to the idea that the butthole was therefore also solar in nature. This was both simply a logical extension of Agrippas magical theories, and a clever jab at traditional religious institutions. (The Christian god is often considered astrally solar in nature.)

He combined this with alchemical doctrine --in which the uniting of the sun and moon is popular imagery-- and came to the conclusion that penis-in-butthole sex was one of the most magically potent things a person could do.

[formulaforza]

— caught in a blue summ. but to love her is to need her everywhere (a gentle kind of love) charles x fem reader, wc 4.1k ish, no warnings, no y/n! fueled by one single praise from @silverstonesainz

You’re three paragraphs into an all-too-lengthy work email when he sits down in the chair next to you silently, one elbow on the sage green tablecloth. He sits in the chair sideways, something you can both see and feel, even without looking away from your phone screen. His presence is accompanied by the gentle thud of two heavy glasses. 

You look over briefly—long enough to suggest to him that his presence is mildly perturbing—and then return your attention to the email. You can hardly concentrate over the jazz band in the corner of the hall, rotating through their collection of love songs sung in different romance languages, and now a strange man has set up camp next to you, only further reminding you why you shouldn’t be responding to emails when you’re out of office. 

“Hi,” he says, after more seconds of silence. 

You finish your email before you give him the time of day. “Hi,” you smile, soft but forced. “Who are you?”

“Charles,” He smiles, holding his hand out to shake yours. You stare at his waiting hand until he takes it away. “Nice to meet you,” he laughs, moving one of the drinks closer to you. “For you. White Negroni. Céline told me it’s your drink.”

You give him a sideways glance before looking past him, scanning the reception hall for your friend. She should stand out in her bridesmaid dress. The wedding invite had specifically requested guests to follow a color code, and nobody was wearing that shade besides the bridesmaids. Your eyes finally land on her, glass of champagne in her hand, long blonde hair falling over her shoulders, leaning over to whisper something to the groom—her brother. No doubt the two of them conspiring, a theory only proved when Mathéo’s eyes land on yours from across the room. You roll your eyes. 

“How do you know Céline?” you ask, as if half the guests here tonight aren’t related to her. 

“I went to school with Mathéo,” he says, and you nod slowly, confusion growing, curiosity peaked. “I suppose technically I went to school with Céline as well.”

“I went to school with Céline,” you say, and Charles furrows his brows. 

“Are you sure?” He asks, and you laugh softly, picking up the drink he’d offered, pulling the garnish off the lip of the glass and dropping it on top of the ice. “I’m serious!” He says, matching your laugh, taking a sip of his drink. “Because I would remember you. And I do not remember you.”

“I’m sure,” you shake your head, bringing the glass to your lips. “Lycée. Première.”

Charles nods. “That is why. I was graduated by then.”

Someone laughs so loud at the next table over that it steals both of your attention. It’s the mother-of-the-bride, and she's visibly drunk in a way that only a divorced French socialite can manage. The sudden attention tones her down, and the room is once again filled with wealthy laughter and crisp clinking crystal glasses. 

You love weddings. You love this wedding; the delicate scent of blooming lavender, the smoked salmon canapés and delicate foie gras pâté that sit half-eaten at most of the tables, the perfectly chilled glasses of champagne waiting to be toasted, and the sun. The golden sun that casts itself across the terraces and into the tall windows, painting the dancing figures in golden hues. 

And then he’s speaking again, and you look back at him, and the sun casts a warm shadow through his brown hair that you're noticing for the first time. “Parles-tu français?” he asks. 

You wince, tilting your head to the side, holding up two fingers pinched together. “Un petit peu. Je suis grec,” you explain, pulling your hair around to drape over one shoulder. 

“Ah,” he says. “How do you say, ‘Would you like to dance?’ in Greek?”

You smile gently, taking another sip of your drink. It’s important to keep yourself paced. Especially when you’re staring at someone who looks like that. “Θα χορέψεις μαζί μου?” You finally say, and he stares at you blankly. The expression forces a laugh from you, which in turn pulls one from him. 

“Again?”

“Θα χορέψεις μαζί μου?”

Charles nods for what feels like a very extended period, before downing the remainder of his drink. “Tha horeps…” he winces at his pronunciation so you don’t have to, “mazi-moo?”

You smile at his hopeful expression, and wonder if he’s more hopeful for a correct pronunciation or an agreement to dance. You shrug, swirling your drink around the glass, looking past him to your friend again. 

She’s watching you this time and wears a grin the size of the wedding. She holds up both her thumbs, and then makes a heart with her hands, pretends to have it beating out of her chest. You shake your head, smiling softly, eyes moving back to Charles. 

“One dance.”

— — — 

Your feet drag across the stone pathway like maybe you’ll slow yourself down and get to spend a half-second longer on the phone with him. You hear it over the voices of drunken uncles pouring from open windows and the radio sat on one of the sills playing a Christiana classic. The air is warm, but dry, and the elastic at the end of your braid tickles the skin on your back while you walk. 

Ahead of your scraping shoes, a cat cleans their paw in the yellow of a porch light. You’re in Paros, and life is so sweet you’re finding porch lights and the smell of your yia-yia’s karidopita to be the most romantic thing in the world. 

“I’m nearly home,” you hum into your phone’s receiver. He laughs on the other end, and you wish all the aunts with the drunken, ballad-performing husbands could hear it so they’d stop asking when you’re going to settle down. It would make sense to them, then, the way you behave about Charles. It would all make sense if they heard him laugh, if they could imagine his dimples. 

“Well, you should probably hang up, then,” he says. You roll your eyes. Your cheeks ache from smiling all evening. Your cousin joked before dinner that your face was going to freeze like that if you weren’t careful. 

“I should,” you agree, but you don’t hang up. You stay on the line, quiet, and stop in front of the resident street cat—he’s small and sweet and purrs against your skin when you run your hand over its sleek black fur, scratch your nails under its chin. You’d bring him home if you knew he didn’t belong to someone, to everyone. “Or you could.”

He laughs again. It’s like honey. You’d swan dive into it if you could, drown all slow and blissfully. “I’m not the one nearly home,” he retorts. I could get far from home again, you think. You could do another lap around the neighborhood. You’d already done it thrice, and then two more times after that. What’s another in the grand scheme of things? “I’ll call you again in the morning,” he says, like it’s routine. You suppose it’s sort of becoming that. 

You take a seat on your porch steps. Voices pour out louder, now. They’ve gotten rowdier with every lap you’ve done. A cousin pulls the old squeaky door open behind you, and you jump in your seat, turning around to see who’s busted you. They hold their hands up defensively, mouth a quick sorry like they’d walked in on you changing, and disappear back into the house. You pull your braid over your shoulder, twirl it around your finger carefully. Nervously, you ask:“Do you think we speak too often?”

“Why do you say that?”

You shrug like he can see it. “We talk too much to be friends.”

“Do we?” You imagine him quirking a brow goofily, based solely on his tone of voice. 

“Yeah,” you chuckle, dropping your braid. “Yeah, I think we do.”

Charles sighs. All you can smell is cinnamon and walnuts. You wonder which one of your cousins ate the heel of the bread while you were out walking. “Well, good thing I would never be just friends with you, then.”

The apples of your cheeks burn like they’d been pinched. You flatten your dress over your legs and a careful giggle tumbles from your lips, teeth biting down on the stupid smile there. “Good thing.”

“Goodnight?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Goodnight.”

— — —

It’s raining in Milan when you pinky promise your best friends that you and Charles aren’t dating. 

The sky has been threatening all afternoon, dull and gray and humidity that was anything but friendly to your hair. It poured through the window like your own personal heatwave every time you walked past the open kitchen window,coated the tiled countertop in an irritable condensation. 

It came wafting through the air with the smell of the impending storm when you opened the door to your friends. Finally, after hours of building up, heavy raindrops patter against the porcelain of your kitchen sink, forcing you to hastily close the window while giggles pour from your friends’ mouths. 

Between your two hands, you can count the number of times the lot of you have been in the same time zone since graduation, let alone the same city. You’d spent the entire humid day wiping condensation off the counters and cutting cheese into perfect cubes and gathering the nicest bundles of grapes you could from the three grocery shops within walking distance. 

The sound of the storm against the glass is drowned out by red-wine laughter and tales of big cities and big dreams, all so vastly different. You sit with your legs crossed underneath you, phone face-up on your thigh, the stem of an empty wine glass pinched between two fingers, twisting the glass around mindlessly.  

Your phone buzzes, for the fourth time in eight minutes. And for the fourth time in eight minutes, you pick it up, abandoning glass on the cluttered coffee table next to the week-old vase of pink anemones. 

Stop texting me, he’s messaged. Enjoy your time with your friends.

You smile softly, your incriminating grin illuminated bright OLED white in contrast to the soft yellow lamp lighting the dim room. You stop texting me, you replied, because you’re a pig-tailed girl on the schoolyard when you talk to him, your normally composed, carefully developed persona melting into a puddle of mush at the mere thought of him. 

Can’t, he responds. I am bored. 

Why? You’re never bored.

“Oh, my God!” your best friend, Roma, teases in broken English, her Italian accent not nearly as light as the cube of ​​Gorgonzola she’d tossed at your head from the other end of the sofa. “Who are you speaking to?” She questions. 

“Just a friend,” you say too quickly, too defensive for anyone in the room to believe. 

Roma quirks her brow at you, curious grin painted on her face. “Yeah? Just a friend?”

“I’m serious,” you insist, turning your phone off. You set it face down on the table, and it vibrates there almost immediately, all of your friends’ eyes watching for your reaction. The corners of your lips tremble, fighting a soft smile, and you shrug, bringing your empty wine glass to your lips, turning your head up to the ceiling, the last few drops of red falling through your lips. And then it vibrates again, the bright colors of your background pouring out in a soft ring of light around your phone. You still don’t flinch, but Roma does, lurching forward and snatching it up before you have time to react. 

“‘Because,” she reads. “‘I’m normally speaking with you at this time,’” she looks over to another friend, grinning,“From Charles. With the emoji that does like this,” she says, mimicking the blushing emoji you have next to his name.“But with the pink on the cheek, yes?” She continues explaining. 

You sink into the sofa, popping that cube of cheese into your mouth before gathering up the baby hairs and bangs that had fallen loose from your ponytail, carefully twisting the hair into a tiny, thin braid coming out from the middle of your hairline. 

“Just your friend?” Roma questions, and you don’t have to look up from your distraction braid to know she’s raising her brows and grinning at you. 

— — — 

You sit next to him in the fourth row of church pews, one leg crossed over the other, desperately wishing the wedding mass program that sat on your lap was a paper fan, not yet having resorted to the lengths some of your fellow guests had gone to and actually using the cardstock to cool down. 

One leg is crossed over the other, the tip of your heel-clad foot threatening to tap the back of the pew in front of you with every awkward, uncomfortable roll of your ankle you attempt. At least your dress is sleeveless, you think. Charles is not as lucky, a formal suit perfectly fitted to his frame, one arm draped behind you over the back of the pew, his fingers mindlessly twirling one of the tiny braids that riddle your ponytail. Neither of you speak nearly enough Spanish or know nearly enough people for this to be any sort of enjoyable. 

“Do you understand them at all?” You whisper, your head falling onto his shoulder. “Because I do not.”

“Absolutely not,” he whispers back, kissing the top of your head, his hand finding yours, interlocking in your lap. “And I am about to die from heatstroke.”

You nod. “You, me, and the rest of the church,” you sigh, pretending not to hear the crying baby or the stressed mother in the back of the church. You figure she has the eyes of enough judgy relatives to drown out any soft sentiments from a stranger.  “Can they just kiss and wrap it up?” You ask, and as is on cue, the newlyweds are locking lips under the cathedral candlelight. 

“Oh shit,” Charles giggles, the two of you hurrying to stand with everyone else in the room who understood what's been happening for the last hour and a half. You hastily adjust the skirt of your dress, feeling quickly to make sure you hadn’t sweat-stained the fabric, or worse, the bench you’d been all but stuck to. “Thank God,” he says, just above a whisper, just loud enough for you to hear. 

The church quickly funnels out of the church behind the couple, filing into the cars that were driving to the reception location. Police officers line the road on either side, cameras and strangers gathered at their barriers. You walk out with your hand interlaced in his, watching every step you take down the steep concrete stairs. 

“Is it like this every time one of you gets married?” You ask, staring at the uniformed officers. They’re a stark contrast to the summer air, to the leaves of the trees drenched in sunlight, and to the flowers buzzing with bees. It feels like you’re at a royal wedding—the ones with professional watchers and ceremonies that get broadcast to millions of people around the world. But it’s not that. It’s just your boyfriend’s teammate. 

“Um,” Charles shrugs. “I’m not sure, to be honest,” he admits. “I don’t think so,” he continues, letting you duck into the black sedan first. “I think it’s just his family.”

“Gosh,” you breathe out, relaxing in the calm of the air-conditioned car. “It’s like a whole production.”

“I know,” he shakes his head, uncapping a water bottle that was waiting in the car door cup holder and passing it to you first. “It’s like they’re Spanish royalty or something,” he laughs. 

You nod animatedly, drinking down the water before passing the now half-full bottle to him. “Exactly like that!” you laugh. 

— — — 

“Three wishes,” you grin, spinning around to face him, antique Arabian oil lamp in your hand. 

The second-hand shop smells like vintage leather and dusty velvet. La Dolce Vita plays from the store radio, and it sounds like it’s on vinyl even though it isn’t. The store is full of gaudy outfits and gaudier decor, and there in the middle of it is you and Charles, the ladder laughing every time the former makes the same joke about twenty different items, each uglier than the one before, being ‘just what I was looking for.’

“I wish for unlimited wishes, obviously,” He says, and you shake your head.

“Absolutely not. That goes against Genie rule number three.”

It’s chilly, the early morning dew still crisp in the air. A gentle breeze pours in from the propped open door, and with it comes the smell of fresh pastries and espresso from the bakery next door. It smells gentle and warm and makes the vintage store feel like your yia-yia’s house on the last morning of your last visit to her house. 

You’re wearing your favorite pair of jeans, a pair of pink sneakers, and a sweater that was your favorite before you shrunk it a size in the dryer the day before. You cover up the fashion faux pas with a tan wool coat and long, hardly managed hair. He’s dressed like you, but elevated. Always more elevated than you, even if the only brand he seems to bring into his closet anymore is his friend’s. 

“Ah,” he nods, pulling you closer by the opening of your coat.  “Of course,” he smiles, speaking softly. “And what are the other rules?”

“Oh, you know,” you shrug, dimples digging into your cheeks at the mere sight of his. “No bringing people back from the dead, no making someone fall in love,” you hum, “and no wishing for more wishes.” 

Charles quirks a brow, dropping his head to the side. “Those are stupid rules,” he protests, pouting. “What if those were all three of my wishes?”

You shrug, holding up the lamp to his eye level. “Got to get educated on Genie’s, man,” you tease, cheeks aching. “I don’t know what to tell you,” you giggle, stepping even closer. “Them’s the rules.”

“Them’s the rules,” he repeats. “How about…” he says, leaning in, still grinning. “Wish one,” he says, pressing a soft kiss into your lips. “Wish two,” he says, repeating the action. “And,” he grins, pulling away momentarily to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. You think you could die on the spot, melt right into a puddle on the shop floor. Your face is so hot. “Wish three?” he says, and as a surprise to nobody, leans in to kiss you again. 

“Nope,” you shake your head, desperate for another breeze to blow through the shop, to cool you down, to keep you standing. “I expected better wishes. Very… μη πρωτότυπο.”

“Mi protótypo?” he repeats, and your grin grows.

“Not original.”

— — —

Charles’ apartment couldn’t be more different than yours, and not even solely on a decoration level. Fundamentally, you two come from two different spaces, and trying to merge those spaces has been nothing short of a treat. 

Not that your decor styles are the same either, because you think his are one-of-kind. So one of a kind, that the two of you had gone through each other’s apartment with yard-sale stickers from the corner store, tagging everything you refused to mesh with in red, and everything you refused to part with in green.  Who else can say they have three dozen racing helmets and trophies in the living room, a blown-up shot of a homeless American man on their dining room wall, and a piano that costs more than your net worth in the foyer? That is some perfectly Charles Leclerc decor, and if you had told yourself once that you would be endeared by all of it, you’d have laughed in your face. 

But you do. You adore it, the way it perfectly encapsulates her personality. And you adore him, and the way he put a green sticker on a total of seven things in his whole apartment because he wanted to make sure it felt like your space too. 

“Why did you not label any of these boxes?” He asks, the two of you stood in his dining room. In your dining room. In the dining room. 

“Um…” you hesitate. “You know, I was going to. I really was,” you nod, staring at at least twenty cardboard boxes, each of them completely indistinguishable from the others, not a single identifying marker on any of them. 

“And then?” He asks, shoving his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels, the herringbone hardwood creaking under his feet with the shifting of his weight. 

“And then I realized I packed my Sharpie,” you nod.

“Mmm,” he hums, scratching his beard, his fingers moving over his face and into his hair, combing through it stressfully. He’s so patient with you. Hopelessly patient with you, and would never admit it. “But you could not find the box it was in?” You shake your head, agreeing with his statement. “Because you forgot to label any of the boxes?”

“Because I didn’t label any of the boxes,” you confirm, an apologetic look painted across your face, eyes soft and sweet, attempting to remind him just how much he loves you. “And suddenly the movers were there. And now I’m here.”

“Oh,” he sighs, wrapping his arms around your chest from behind, kissing the top of your head. “I love you so much,” he says. “I love you so much,” he repeats, voice blank, unconvincing. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “I was thinking we start in the dining room,” you joke, smiling softly, pulling a chuckle from his lips. You can always count on him to laugh at your stupid jokes. Even when he’s pretending not to be annoyed with you.“I’m sorry,” you say softly, kissing the forearm crossed over your chest. 

“I know,” he hums. “It’s okay. It won’t be too bad.”

— — — 

A soft summer breeze floats through the air, blows through the linen pinned to clotheslines in the neighborhood. It brings with it salt air and the careful wafts of cinnamon and nutmeg and eggplants and tomatoes. You sip a glass of Retsina, ignoring the bitter and accepting the sweet. 

The olive trees are draped in endless strings of lights, and gentle, traditional music plays from the live band and the wooden stage your uncles had built with your dad. Your Yia-yia moves around from table to table pinching the cheeks of your cousins, reminding the single girls to check their shoes for their prince charmings. 

The sun is setting on the water, golden shadows cutting around the soft cement architecture. The air is light. Charles wears a tan linen suit with an evil-eye boutonniere. You wear a white dress and a cold coin in your left shoe. 

“You told them no to the money, right?” He asks softly, sipping a glass of white. 

“I did,” you nod. “Well. I told my parents,” You shrug. “Whether or not they convey the message to the four hundred other people here, I guess we’ll find out.”

“It’s weird, no? A first dance and a last dance?”

You smile softly, watching a stray cat hurry down an alleyway. “My family keeps coming up to us and pretending to spit,” you giggle, “But the second dance is where you draw the line in the weird sand?”

“None of it’s weird” he shakes his head, reaching to tuck a curly piece of hair behind your ear, adjusting your veil accordingly. “It’s all you,” he says, leaning in to kiss you softly. His lips are soft, and he tastes like apples and melon and citrus, as easy to kiss as ever. “And I love you.”

“Ah,” you nod, a teasingly soft smile parting your lips. “He loves me,” you say, pretending to wipe sweat from your brow. “I was worried.”

“You act very worried,” he grins. “Wedding dress and all.”

“Oh,” you feign surprise as if you've noticed the setting for the first time. “This old thing? The one that costs a quarter of my salary?”

Charles nods, humming. “That’s the one. Keeps taking my damn breath away.”

You look down at yourself, an innocent, girlish smile draped over your lips, the pink shades of the sunset painting themselves warm over your cheeks. A gust of wind blows through the space, the breeze gently blowing through your veil, through the fabric of your dress. 

“Are you ready?” You ask, watching the sun creep closer to the horizon, be swallowed up inch by inch into the sea, using your hand as a shade-visor. “No time like the present, right?” You add, downing what’s left in your glass. “Our second dance as newlyweds.”

“Our second dance,” Charles nods, holding out his hand, waiting for your fingers to interlock with his. “Let’s go.”

[emmkayyy03]

✨ How Your Dominant Planet Secretly Shapes Your Teenage Brain ✨

Have you ever looked back at your late teens and wondered why you were so obsessed with certain things? Like, one friend was glued to their guitar and poetry journals, another was training for their fifth marathon, and you? You were probably neck-deep in your thing. Here’s the deal: your dominant planet was pulling the strings behind the scenes, shaping how your mind worked and what you gravitated toward without you even realizing it.

Let’s break it down:

🌞 SUN Dominant: "I need to shine—what’s the point otherwise?" Late teens for Sun-kissed folks are like a personal hero’s journey. You’re obsessed with figuring out who you are. Your brain’s constantly asking, Am I good enough? Do people see my worth? You might’ve been the captain of the debate team, the drama club star, or just that person who somehow made walking to the cafeteria look like a runway. How your mind works: Everything feels like a stage, and you want to perform your best—even in front of yourself. You seek validation, yes, but deep down, it’s about finding your inner confidence.

🌙 MOON Dominant: "I feel… everything. Is that normal?" For Moon folks, the late teens are an emotional hurricane. You’re all about understanding feelings, whether it’s yours or everyone else’s. You probably overthink texts (why’d they only reply with “k”?), cry over movies you’ve seen a million times, and have deep, borderline-therapeutic convos with your bestie. How your mind works: You process the world emotionally first, logically second. You’re learning how to handle your empathy without drowning in it.

🔥 MARS Dominant: "Let’s go! But… where are we going?" Mars kids are powered by action and passion, and your late teens are when you’re learning to channel that fire. Your brain thrives on challenges, so you probably signed up for every sport, pushed yourself in the gym, or got way too into proving someone wrong in an argument. Impulse control? We’ll work on that later. How your mind works: You process through doing. Sitting around theorizing makes you twitchy. You need action, even if it’s messy. Picking fights on the basketball court because the ref made a bad call, then realizing you’re actually just mad your crush didn’t text you back.

💬 MERCURY Dominant: "Wait, how does that work? Tell me everything!" Mercury-dominant teens are curiosity machines. Your brain’s like a search engine that never stops running. You want to know why, how, who, and what if. You’re that kid who can’t let a fun fact go without looking it up. Debates? Bring ’em on. Trivia? Your jam. Group chats? You run them. How your mind works: You connect ideas at lightning speed. Learning isn’t just a necessity; it’s your love language. Staying up until 3 a.m. watching YouTube videos about conspiracy theories, then showing up to school explaining why aliens totally built the pyramids.

💎 VENUS Dominant: "Why settle for okay when life can be beautiful?" Your late teens are a crash course in pleasure, relationships, and aesthetics. You’re probably experimenting with your style (cue questionable fashion phases), figuring out love (hello, hopeless romantic), or diving into art and music. Life needs to feel good, or it’s just not worth it. How your mind works: You’re tuned to beauty and connection. Your decisions are emotional but driven by desire—whether it’s for love, art, or the perfect selfie.Spending an hour perfecting your eyeliner just to go to the grocery store because what if you meet someone cute?

🌍 SATURN Dominant: "I’m too busy for nonsense." While your friends are out making impulsive mistakes, you’re busy building your future. Saturn-dominant teens have an old-soul vibe. You’re focused on responsibility, probably working a part-time job while juggling school and worrying about saving for college. Fun? Sure, but only if it’s productive. How your mind works: You crave structure and long-term success. While others wing it, you plan 10 steps ahead. Skipping a party to study for finals because failing isn’t an option—not because of pressure, but because you expect better from yourself.

🚀 RAHU Dominant: "What’s the wildest thing I can do right now?" Rahu teens are like explorers charting unknown territory. You’re obsessed with breaking rules, chasing thrills, and doing the forbidden. If it’s edgy, you’re into it. You’re the one sneaking out, dyeing your hair neon green, or trying things that make adults nervous. How your mind works: You’re wired to seek more. More excitement, more knowledge, more of life’s extremes. Going on a spontaneous road trip with friends, breaking the rules, or getting into something your parents wouldn’t approve of—just because it felt like the next big adventure.

🌌 KETU Dominant: "I’m here, but also not really here." Ketu teens are all about spiritual detachment. You’re introspective, reflective, and a bit aloof. While everyone else is chasing their dreams, you’re figuring out why dreams matter at all. Meditation, tarot, or even just staring at the stars for hours—you’re vibing on a higher plane. How your mind works: You reject surface-level stuff, diving into the depths of existence. But you also need to learn to be present. Skipping out on big social events to sit at a park by yourself, journaling about the mysteries of life, or getting into spiritual practices like meditation because they felt more authentic than anything else.

🚀 JUPITER Dominant: "Knowledge is freedom, and I’m going after it!" Jupiter-dominant teens are all about growth, knowledge, and the bigger picture. Your late teens were likely filled with plans for the future, exploring new ideas, and constantly looking for ways to improve. You may have been the one always talking about your next big trip, your dream career, or the philosophies that shaped your world view. How your mind works: You crave expansion and understanding. Learning is your path to freedom. Deep-diving into a topic you just discovered, researching potential career paths, or discussing ideas about travel, culture, and self-improvement with anyone who would listen. Your teenage years were wild, weren’t they? Which planet had your brain on lock? Reblog with your planetary dominant and let’s compare chaotic late-teen stories. 🌠

[fdelopera]

Yo Goyim! Looks like I'm going to need to give some of you a crash course on what antisemitic language looks like, because I've been seeing entirely too much of it from some of you here on Tumblr.

Now, I think it's time for a Jewish history lesson, because I've been seeing way too many Nazi-related conspiracy theories going around. If you hear contradictions to the basic information that I am about to share (i.e., if you hear someone saying that the Jewish people are "a race that originated in Europe"), it is likely that you are hearing a white supremacist, anti-Jewish conspiracy theory.

So, here's the basics of Jewish history. Jews are indigenous to the Levant have been there for thousands of years. The Levantine people that Jews descended from have been in that area of the Levant since the Bronze Age. Jews as a distinct people have been there since the Late Bronze Age. Before it was Palestine it was the Kingdom of Judah, then Judea, and then Judaea, and that is literally where we are from. The word Jew means "a person from the Kingdom of Judah." The Romans renamed the area Syria-Palaestina (which they borrowed from the Greek name Palestina) in the 2nd century CE after destroying the Second Temple in Jerusalem and leading another campaign to try to eradicate the Jewish people (guess what, we're still here, motherfuckers).

And even after the Romans tried to annihilate us, even after they scattered many of us into European diaspora, many Jews came back, again and again over the ages, and there have nearly always been Jewish communities in the region throughout history.

And if you come for me or try to dispute any of this history with white supremacist bullshit, I am a Jew who has studied way more Jewish history than you. And as politely as possible, you can take your white supremacist conspiracy theories and fuck off into the sun.

Okay, with all that out of the way, let's get into it!

Gloves are coming off, because this is just a sampling of the Nazi dogwhistles I've been seeing here on Tumblr about the Jewish civilians who were tortured, murdered, and worse:

- If you say shit like, "The Jews got what they deserved"...

GUESS WHAT? You're talking like a white supremacist, and you need to fucking check yourself.

- And if, on the other hand, you say shit like, "The reports were probably overblown. I think those were paid actors. I don't think those Jews were murdered. No Jewish children were killed. No Jewish bodies were desecrated" blahblahblah...

GUESS WHAT? You get to sit with the Nazis at their table for lunch.

- If you tell Jews "go back to Europe where you came from"...

GUESS WHAT? Not only are you telling the descendants of Jewish refugees to go back to the Spanish Inquisition, the Russian pogroms, and the Nazi gas chambers, as I explained in this post, but you are also repeating a white supremacist conspiracy theory about the origins of European Jews.

Jews are a Levantine people from the area of the Middle East currently called Israel (formerly called the Kingdom of Judah, and then Judea). While there was some emigration to Europe during the late Roman Republic and the early days of the Roman Empire, the first mass migration of Jews to Europe was a forced migration. Gentiles from the Roman Empire dragged us there as captives after 70 CE, the year Rome destroyed the Second Temple.

- And if you're telling yourself that there are "good Jews" and "bad Jews," and those Jewish civilians were "bad Jews," so they deserved to be tortured and killed...

GUESS WHAT? You're spouting white supremacist ideology.

Antisemitism takes a long time to deprogram.

A lot of gentiles grow up with anti-Jewish ideology that they have never questioned.

And a lot of Christians are kept ignorant about Jewish history because preachers and priests fear it would make Christians question the many inaccuracies in the Bible.

But the first step in noticing antisemitic beliefs is to notice when you start singling people out *because* they are Jewish.

And I have been seeing some of you gleefully celebrating the murder of Jewish civilians *because* they are Jewish.

And that is antisemitism.

That is one step closer to the next generation of Jews getting shoved into the gas chambers. And there are only 16 million of us left in the entire world. We're 0.2% of the world's population. And we cannot afford another Holocaust.

And if your response to me saying that is, "Well, those Jews deserve it."

Guess what. You are making it easier for Nazis and white supremacists to spread hatred and commit acts of violence against Jewish people. And you will have to live with that blood on your conscience.

So...

If you are a gentile, and you see other gentiles repeating these kinds of white supremacist dogwhistles about Jewish people, here's how you can help:

1. MOST IMPORTANTLY: Help them direct their focus away from attacking random Jewish people online and towards helping Palestinians.

Actions that people can take right now are contributing to verified charities and relief organizations that help the people of Gaza. Only donate to organizations that are verified by CharityNavigator.org and CharityWatch.org.

2. Call that shit out. Tell people that they're being antisemitic, and explain that Jew-hatred is dangerous to Jewish people. Antisemitism gets Jews attacked and it gets Jews killed. In the US, many synagogues require round the clock security to protect against white supremacists who want to murder Jews. In Pittsburgh, my old home town, a group of Nazis from north of the city planned the murder of Jewish congregants at Tree of Life Synagogue, and so far only one of them (the gunman) has been arrested and convicted of the murders. The others are still at large.

3. Explain to them that it is antisemitic to celebrate someone's death *because* they're Jewish. ALSO, it is antisemitic to blame a random Jewish person for the actions of ANY government, whether that be the Israeli Government or the US Government.

4. Explain to people that they're not going to solve this conflict by posting antisemitic statements and memes online. All they will do is alienate the Jewish people in their lives and make those Jews feel scared and unsafe. And they will contribute to this current wave of antisemitism.

Antisemitic hatred doesn't help Palestinians. All it does is put Jewish people around the world in danger.

[draxofoy]

i haven't posted anything here omg kinda nervous... but here's zutara in traditional javanese wedding attire 🙇🏻‍♀️ commissioned this from my friend she's amazing 😖❗️

some facts about the attire! ☺️😙

The headwear these babies are wearing are called Blangkon and Cunduk Mentul, Blangkon is a traditional headwear worn by men usually in Central Javanese and Yogyakarta (especially the one Zuko is wearing!) The word Blangkon itself is said to came from the word 'blanco' referring to the blank cloth used to make the headwear, tho there are soo many theories about the origin of both the headwear and the name itself cause sadly there aren't many records about it :(

The headwear is also used to represent wisdom and class because back then, these were used to differentiate the nobilities from the commoners (wr don't really do that anymore dw). The Javanese people believe that your hair, head, and face are the most important and treasured parts of your body, so these Blangkon are used to protect those parts. We also believe that Blangkon represent self-control, since Javanese men tend to keep their hair long back then and keep them loose when they're in a state of 'conflict' such as battles or war, representing uncontrollable flow of emotions so keeping their hair up and covered is seen as an act of self control.

As for the Cunduk Mentul, these pretty headpieces are typically worn by brides on their wedding day! They represent 'the sun that shines over the universe' and also... well, it depends on the number of the pieces they use, usually it's 1, 3, 5, 7, or 9, each representing a different value. 1 is used as a symbol of God's singularity, usually worn by muslim brides, 3 is for the Trimurti or the Trinity of Hindu Gods that deeply rooted in Javanese values, 5 is for the five pillars of Islam, 7 symbolizes 'help' or 'aid'- the Javanese believe that 7 is a lucky number since 7 is 'pitu' in Javanese, so, yeah, 'pitu' for 'pitulungan' or help and aid in Javanese language. 9 represent the Nine Saints/Wali Sanga, 9 saints that have a major impact on the growth of Islam in the island of Java.

Their clothing respectively are called Beskap and Kebaya 🤩 Beskap is more of a modern version of Javenese traditional clothing, for it was adopted from the modern suits worn by the Deutsch during the colonization era. The word Beskap came from the word 'beschaafd', meaning civilized (oh!)

Kebaya, on the other hand, has no specific area origin cause each region has their own styles and versions! The one Katara is wearing is a Central Java Kebaya tho, famous for the velvety fabric and dark colors along with the gold motifs. The history of 'modern' Kebaya itself started in the 15th century when Dutch first settled in Dutch East Indies (now Indonesia!) The clothing had taken inspirations from different cultures (like Chinese and Indian) along the way since Indonesia was (kinda still is!) One of the centers of trade routes for both Hindia and Pacific Oceans.

Damn I'm getting tired of writing this, but next 😭 is Kain Jarik! A piece of fabric with Batik motives wrapped around the legs :))) these babies have RANGE, like they could be used daily, for traditional dance attire, sacred rituals, weddings, even used in funerals 😀 they're usually 2 to 3 meters in length and more variations in width, easy to customize! They also usually have dark colors like dark brown and light brown motives, but i asked my friend to draw them with red and blue and gold motives cause why not 😝

Anyways I think i went a little overboard cause my fingers are hurting from typing this lol.

[ayukas]

A THOUSAND TIMES ACROSS A THOUSAND LIVES

across parallel lives, love takes three forms, each one stitched together by a single red thread.

pairing tokuno yushi x fem!reader genre fluff, soulmate au, red string theory warnings not proofread orz notes completed my life goal of writing yushi as everything hes ever wanted to be

UNIVERSE 544 : THE DANCER

in this universe, the red string winds around your pinky like a ribbon of fate—gentle, but undeniable. you don’t see it, but you feel it. a tug in your chest, soft and persistent, guiding your feet toward something you can’t name.

you feel it when you pass the old dance studio tucked between a bakery and a barbershop on your way home from school. the windows are fogged with breath and motion, but through the condensation, you can just barely make out the silhouette of someone moving like he was born to the rhythm.

he dances like the music was made for him. or maybe he was made for the music.

the first time you see him, he’s in loose grey sweatpants and a light denim jacket, hair damp with sweat, soft curls falling into his eyes. you only meant to glance for a second, but the way he moves is magnetic—like the world outside doesn’t exist, and time itself folds in half just to watch him.

you find yourself slowing down a little more each time you pass the studio. hesitant at first, then hopeful, until eventually, you just stop altogether.

he’s always there, like a lighthouse in the fog, often dancing with headphones in. but you can still hear the music in the way his body moves—fluid, fearless, full of something wordless.

one night, as if he's been waiting, he opens the studio door before you can disappear. the little bell above the door startles you.

“you’ve been watching me,” he says—not accusing, just curious.

you don’t know what to say. so you don’t say anything at all.

he tilts his head, the warmth in his eyes like sunlight through syrup. “do you want to come in?”

your throat tightens. “i’m not a dancer.”

he shrugs. “you don’t have to be.”

you hesitate at the threshold like it might burn. but the string in your chest tugs again. so you follow him in.

he introduces himself as yushi. his voice is calm, like the first warm wind of spring. he moves with gentleness, but his mischief seeps through whenever he catches you staring.

you don’t dance that night. he doesn’t push.

but he still teaches you how to feel the beat. you share one earbud, swaying in place. his fingers graze yours ever so slightly—brief but grounding—and it feels like something sacred.

like you’ve done this before, a thousand times across a thousand lives.

UNIVERSE 8123 : THE FOOTBALL PLAYER

in this universe, the red string tugs with more urgency. not like a pull—more like a nudge. like someone’s gently guiding your shoulders forward.

you feel it in the grass-stained air of early autumn, in the late sun that lingers just a little longer after class. in the way your steps veer toward the school’s old football field, even though you never used to go that way.

he’s always there—on the field. running, calling, laughing. a blur of blue and garnet cleats.

he moves like the game is a language only he speaks. not just playing it. breathing it.

you don’t know his name at first—only that he wears jersey number 45, and that he smiles with his whole face when he scores. only that the red string seems to hum louder when he’s near.

you sit on the bleachers, pretending to scroll through your phone. but your eyes are always drawn to him.

“you come here a lot,” he says, jogging over, wiping sweat from his brow. his voice is a little breathless, but easy. open. friendly. “you watch football?”

you blink. “not really.”

he laughs. “that’s honest.”

you shrug. “i just like the air here.”

he grins, head tilted. “air’s even better on the field. wanna try?”

your heart stumbles. “i’ve never played before.”

“you don’t have to be good,” he says, tossing you the ball in a soft spiral. “just gotta try.”

he teaches you how to dribble, how to pass, how to run sideways without tripping over your own feet. he cheers when you kick the ball—though it barely goes three feet. you nearly fall over from the momentum, and he catches you, laughing all the while.

it’s only when you part that day that he tells you his name. yushi. there’s something familiar in the way he says it—too gentle to be new.

he keeps inviting you back. not just to play. sometimes to sit in the grass and talk until the sky blushes pink. sometimes just to exist beside him, sun-warmed and content.

you stop keeping track of the days spent with yushi. and the red string feels quieter now. less like a tug. more like a home.

one evening, you run across the field just to meet him halfway. he opens his arms without thinking, hands warm as they find your waist, and his touch feels like something sacred.

like you’ve done this before, a thousand times across a thousand lives.

UNIVERSE 2823 : THE FISHERMAN

in this universe, the red string smells like salt. like low tide mornings and seafoam breath. it hums under your skin like waves do in your ears—constant, quiet, a rhythm you never learned but have somehow always known.

you feel it strongest when the town is still sleeping. when the sky is periwinkle and the harbour yawns in fog. you walk the docks before the sun fully rises, coffee in hand, boots laced tight to keep out the chill.

you’re not sure why you come. only that something keeps pulling you back.

the fisherman is always there before you. a silhouette against the pale light, tall and calm. he hums while he untangles nets. whistles while tying knots, tossing rope, and counting crates of fish.

you don’t speak, but every morning, he nods at you like you're an old friend.

one day, your coffee slips from your hand, and he’s already moving—catching the cup before it tips completely. his hands are calloused but gentle, and his laugh is soft, like wind against canvas sails.

“early riser?” he asks.

“more like… accidentally awake,” you admit.

he grins, tugging his beanie lower over his ears. “same thing.”

he tells you his name is yushi. his voice like driftwood—weathered, warm. he offers you a seat on a crate and half his sandwich.

you start coming earlier after that.

he teaches you the names of fish he’s caught, the knots that hold lives together. he lets you sit beside him in calm silence while the sea breathes in and out.

then one morning, he hands you a rod.

you blink. “i don’t know how to fish.”

he shrugs. “you don’t have to. just gotta hold it.”

so you do.

the sun rises slow, gold spilling like paint across the water. you feel something tug on the line—then nothing. you glance at yushi, expecting instruction, but he’s just watching you with a quiet smile.

“did i catch something?”

“maybe,” he says, eyes glinting. “but sometimes, it’s enough just to feel the pull.”

you sit in silence again, line drifting, string humming. and when the boat sways a little too much, he reaches out immediately—steadying you instinctively.

his hand brushes your shoulder, fleeting but familiar, and it feels like something sacred.

like you’ve done this before, a thousand times across a thousand lives.

SOMEWHERE IN THE SPACE BETWEEN UNIVERSES,

the red string glows.

it glows with memory—woven through dance studios, football fields, and fog-drenched docks. it remembers every laugh, every stumble, every breath you forgot to count.

and somewhere—beyond twilight and turf, beyond sea spray, and music spun in quiet rooms—yushi remembers too.

the hands that always find yours. the voice that always knows your name. the gravity that always finds you and pulls you close, again and again, no matter the sky.

in every universe, yushi turns toward something he doesn’t yet have a word for and smiles.

“found you.”

perm. taglist ♡ @renjunsversion @ddolbyong @f6llsun @egojo1st @sungbites @nonverdolly @strwberie @blondemrk @chenlezip @markkiatocafe @stqrgr7 @jisungji @taroddori @haeriaes @kukkurookkoo @polarisjisung @dudekiss3r @dejundesign @uncasings @sweetpinkblueberry @spacejip @yushiela @insbread @t-102 @haelvrty @pl4netx1a @haeivie @natakgae @fae-renjun

[cultkinkcoven]

Paganism has given me such an immense appreciation for the fact that I am a human being and i don’t even know how to explain it.

Thank the Gods that I was born as a human being. Thank the Gods that I was born into a human body.

Thank the Gods that I was born with eyes that can see light, but only a specific section of light that can allow me to understand matter. Light that has travelled for billions of years only to interact with me here, at this point in space and time

Thank the Gods that I was born with ears that can hear sound and interpret it as music. That I my face and bones were formed to create a mouth that can create complex sounds, so that someone that I love can know that I love them. So they can know anything that I could ever tell them. Thank Gods I was born as a creature with the power to create language, to communicate information through words.

That I have tiny electric signals that connect my skin to my brain, so I can feel touch. So I can smell. So I can understand that I am here, that this is here, that this happened.

Thank Gods that I am human, and I can look into the sky with absolute aw, not knowing whether it is looking back at me. Thank Gods that I can have these thoughts, that I can feel some sort of love and significance in these millions of complex frequencies. That it isn’t just information, that it isn’t just static.

Thank Gods that I am large enough that the movement of my atoms doesn’t make me feel like I am being torn apart. Thank Gods I am small enough that my rotation around the Earth doesn’t make me motion sick.

Thank Gods that my ancestors and their ancestors and those before them had so many experiences that their memories are written into my biological code as symbols. So that when I see the moon, the sun, the mother, the hero, the fool and the poet, my mind understands them as significant. Thank Gods that I see red as passion and love because it is the color of my blood. And blue is serenity and melancholy and peace, because the sky and sea are blue.

Thank Gods that I am human, and I was born into a species that cared enough about itself to record what it did. To expand upon their theories and continue their pursuits. To be infinitely wiser than those who came before.

Thank Gods that I have a body, that I have a mind and a soul too. That my body carries me, cradles me though this experience with absolute care. Protecting me, telling me, far faster than I can even perceive, that I am here, that the universe is here. That this is all around me.

Thank Gods that I am human, and I know the canine well. And he recognizes me from a multi century long acknowledgment of ancient companionship. Thank Gods I am human, and I am so interested in the lady bug, because no one else would count her spots. Because no one else would study the way the spider spins her web. Because no one else would be so curious as to count the carvings made over millions of years on the ocean floor. Because no one else thinks to wonder how a penny tastes.

Thank Gods that I am human and my mothers mother told her stories. That I believed in ideas that were fabricated in my nursery. Thank Gods that I read the tales of fantasy and historical fiction that have lead to my ability to imagine a dragon, a fairy, a Erdrich horror which exceeds all words for which I could describe it. A God

Thank Gods that I am human, and I can pray. Thank Gods that I can find Gods in high and low places, on massive and minimum scales. Thank Gods that I can traverse the entire universe in this mind that contains me. That I can explore distant worlds, alternate realities, with the assurance that I can always come home. To this body, to this world. Thank Gods that I am trapped within this body for now and that God can use this body to speak to me. That I can observe God propagating through the world, that I can ask God endless questions. Thank Gods that I have endless questions. Why why why must I know, why must I understand this thing that is living. Why why why must I stub my toe and get eyelashes in my eye and hiccups and random vibrations in my stomach

Thank Gods that I am so reactionary, that I get frustrated and embarrassed and inspired and enraged. Thank Gods that i can feel pain, thank Gods that I can feel ecstasy.

Thank Gods that I see that woman that works at the grocery store every other day. Thank Gods I noticed she changed her hair. Thank Gods that I thought about changing my hair, and changing my gender, and changing my name.

Thank Gods that I grow at a rate that is not too fast, but not too slow. Thank Gods that I am changing, that I am not the same as I was before.

Thank Gods that I can look up at the moon and love her. I think it makes it all worth it, even if I cannot ever truly know if she loves me. I can believe it to be so. Thank Gods that I can believe it to be so.

Thank Gods that I am human. Thank Gods that I am here in this body living on this Earth in this year, in this moment. Thank Gods that I am human.

For as long as I am human, and I may not be human forever, thank Gods that at least right now, I am human.

[alfascorpiionux]

Fun facts about the signs

Air signs: most likely to be into fantasy/sci-fi genres

Aries Sun: if you are their person, they’ll shower you with gifts and even cook for you. They make surprisingly generous friends and creative lovers.

Aquarius Sun: probably has at least a fetish or a couple. Very likely to know about conspiracy theories, new currents of thinking etc.

Cancer moons: are shy when it comes to admitting they are interested in someone and might just insist it’s “friendship”. Probably likes wearing comfy clothes and shoes. They might prefer a night spent at home over going out.

Sagittarius Sun: does at least one form of sport or watches sport on TV. Might be more open with friends than family members and is the type of person that can make you laugh and brighten your day;

Gemini Sun: enjoys a good verbal battle and feels attracted to confident and intelligent people that don’t hesitate to speak their mind. They definitely know more than they let on and at times prefer to stay silent. One of the signs most likely to be into gaming.

Pisces Sun & Moon: you are artistic and probably sing/play an instrument/draw or express you creativity in some other shape or form;

Sagittarius Moon: follows the glass half-full mentality and probably has more than one hobby;

Scorpio Sun: their language of love is physical touch and they prefer awkward vulnerability over ostentatious displays of affection;

Pisces Sun: likes romantic books and is very giving and idealistic in love. Could or could not have many friends. Either way, they are well-liked. Loves time spent one-on-one and animals.

Virgo Sun: makes thoughtful gifts and is a practical person. They might pick up skills that will surprise you.

Taurus Sun: to them some physical objects hold real emotional value and never want to get rid of them. Definitely like staying at home watching movies.