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journalofanoldsoul · 8 months

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Words Of Wisdom (Jupiter Edition)

Jupiter represents knowledge, wisdom, and spiritual growth. Its placement in a chart can indicate a person's natural ability to learn, their willingness to seek out new experiences and ideas, and their ability to integrate different perspectives and worldviews.

Here are some iconic book quotes that I feel represent the energy of someone Jupiter placements (sign or house) in their natal chart.

Jupiter in Aries or 1st House: "It is not in doing what you like, but in liking what you do that is the secret of happiness." - J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan. This quote represents the enthusiasm and energy of Jupiter in Aries/1st House, which encourages a sense of self-discovery and taking bold action. It emphasizes that happiness comes from finding joy and fulfillment in one's pursuits rather than simply pursuing pleasure.

Jupiter in Taurus or 2nd House: "The world is full of magical things patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper." - Bertrand Russell, Mysticism and Logic. This quote reflects the practical and grounded nature of Jupiter in Taurus/2nd House, which values stability, material security, and the power of the senses. It encourages a slow and steady approach to expanding one's horizons and appreciating the beauty of the world around us.

Jupiter in Gemini or 3rd House: "It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife." - Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice. This quote represents the curiosity and communicative nature of Jupiter in Gemini/3rd House, which is all about gathering information, sharing ideas, and engaging with the world around us. It highlights the power of words and conversation in shaping our perceptions and relationships.

Jupiter in Cancer or 4th House: "Home is behind, the world ahead, And there are many paths to tread Through shadows to the edge of night, Until the stars are all alight." - J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings. This quote reflects the emotional depth and nurturing nature of Jupiter in Cancer/4th House, which is all about finding a sense of belonging and security in our homes, families, and traditions. It emphasizes the importance of finding our own path in life and the power of imagination to guide us on our journey.

Jupiter in Leo or 5th House: "All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts." - William Shakespeare, As You Like It. This quote represents the creative and theatrical nature of Jupiter in Leo/5th House, which encourages us to express ourselves boldly and authentically. It highlights the power of play, drama, and self-expression in shaping our identities and leaving a lasting impact on the world.

Jupiter in Virgo or 6th House: "In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends." - Martin Luther King Jr., Strength to Love. This quote reflects the analytical and service-oriented nature of Jupiter in Virgo/6th House, which is all about finding practical solutions to problems and improving the world around us through diligent effort. It emphasizes the power of empathy, compassion, and collaboration in achieving our goals and making a difference in the world.

Jupiter in Libra or 7th House: "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live." - J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. This quote represents the social and diplomatic nature of Jupiter in Libra/7th House, which values harmony, justice, and balance in our relationships and interactions with others. It emphasizes the importance of taking action and finding a healthy balance between our ideals and the realities of our lives.

Jupiter in Scorpio or 8th House: "The greatest glory in living lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall." - Nelson Mandela, Long Walk to Freedom. This quote reflects the transformative and intense nature of Jupiter in Scorpio/8th House, which is all about confronting our fears, embracing change, and gaining a deeper understanding of ourselves and others. It emphasizes the power of resilience, determination, and the willingness to learn from our mistakes in achieving personal growth and success.

Jupiter in Sagittarius or 9th House: "Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings. This quote represents the adventurous and expansive nature of Jupiter in Sagittarius/9th House, which values freedom, exploration, and the pursuit of knowledge and wisdom. It encourages us to embrace the unknown, take risks, and follow our dreams, trusting that the journey itself will lead us to new discoveries and experiences.

Jupiter in Capricorn or 10th House: "It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop." - Confucius, The Analects. This quote reflects the disciplined and ambitious nature of Jupiter in Capricorn/10th House, which is all about achieving success and recognition through hard work, perseverance, and strategic planning. It emphasizes the importance of patience, determination, and the willingness to overcome obstacles and setbacks in achieving our goals.

Jupiter in Aquarius or 11th House: "Be the change you want to see in the world." - Mahatma Gandhi. This quote represents the progressive and innovative nature of Jupiter in Aquarius/11th House, which values individuality, freedom, and the power of collective action to create positive change in the world. It encourages us to think outside the box, challenge the status quo, and work together to make the world a better place.

Jupiter in Pisces or 12th House: "I have been bent and broken, but I hope, into a better shape." - Charles Dickens, Great Expectations. This quote reflects the compassionate and spiritual nature of Jupiter in Pisces/12th House, which values empathy, intuition, and the power of imagination to transcend boundaries and connect us to the divine. It emphasizes the importance of embracing our vulnerabilities and flaws, trusting in the power of redemption and renewal to guide us towards a brighter future.

Stay tune for more astro posts…

xoxo J.

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call-sign-shark · 10 months

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Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: Disobeying Tommy's orders, you're back in Small Heath. Your rebellious attitude starts to really bother him but you don't care. All that matters is that you're reunited with Arthur and John, the two men of your lives. From then, nothing can go wrong. Nothing, right? -- Featuring John Shelby x Reader.

Words: 5.5k

TW: Extreme angst - read at your own risk, graphic depiction of violence, canonical violence, graphic depiction of murder, major character death, allusions to self-harm.

Notes:

✞ Theme song on repeat if you want to break your heart: HERE

✞ Quotes from the TV Shows are in bold and italics

✞ Heaven is OP's original character but written with the use of « you » (Moodboard here).

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT CHAPTER

The deafening howl of the train’s honk boomed in Small Heath’s station, quickly followed by a whistling sound. The steel giant had barely opened its heavy doors when the foul-smelling wind of the city rushed into the wagon and made you wrinkle your nose in disgust. It was not that you hated Small Heath strictly speaking, but the stark contrast between the industrial city and the green landscape of the forest in which you lived now was difficult to process. The sound of your stiletto soon clicked on the metallic steps as you got off the train, attracting people’s eyes to your tiny frame. Yet, you weren’t really sure if this sudden attention came from their sound, or rather the sight of your short black dress adorned with the most expensive white fur coat you had ever owned, and the gold choker necklace you wore, whose shape was one of a barbed wire wrapped around your neck. When your heels found the dirty concrete of the platform, a gargantuan hundred pounds Cane Corso with a spiked collar followed you closely, like a silent but off-putting bodyguard. He was your shadow, mimicking each of your movements and grazing your steps, except if told otherwise. Loyal guardian, Kaiser was even more protective since Arthur left. Without minding the fascinated or curious stares that were looking at you, you walked out of the station with the dog’s leash in one of your small hands and a cigarette in the other.

“Mrs. Shelby? Here is your bag.” A man told you, all the while putting the said luggage at your feet.

“Thanks, sir.” You replied with a brief polite smile, before stubbing your cigarette on the nearest wall and throwing it away. At first, you had been surprised by the care the staff provided you during the whole trip until you saw the glow of fear in their eyes as soon as they noticed your family name on the ticket. She’s Arthur Shelby’s wife, you better be ready to help her with her stuff if you don’t want her husband to knock at your door and break your skull. That was what the ticket inspector told one of his colleagues when he met him in another wagon a few minutes after this frightful discovery. Waiting in front of the train station with a slight feeling of uneasiness, you swept your surrounding with your celeste blue eyes, whose coldness equaled the freezing English wind. Looking around you in the hope of catching sight of a cab, your fingers absentmindedly brushed the almost imperceptible white burn scar on your wrist. The circle-shaped wound the cigarette had left on your skin had miraculously healed in a matter of days.

“Welcome home, little Angel.” A familiar voice echoed right behind you. You turned around in one swift movement, and your freezing gaze turned into a child-like expression: John’s smile welcomed you, its charms so blinding that it made you momentarily forget about the dreadful feeling you carried in your soul.

“John!” You exclaimed, unable to hold your joy any longer. Kaiser’s bark followed right after when he recognized who the man was. Without further ado, you rushed into him to pull him in a hug. Amused, John could not help but chuckle at such a vivid reaction before wrapping your body with his muscular arms and tightening his grip around you with the firm desire not to let you go, “What are you doing here?” You asked, looking at him. Your enlightened expression adorned your doll face and made your hypnotizing eyes shine with elation.

“That ain’t the right question, love. What are you doing here?” He teased you, raising one of his eyebrows, then stared right at your eyes. His tongue pushed the toothpick that was in his mouth from the right corner to the left before he went on, “When Arthur got your letter he told me about your arrival in Birmingham. Hell, he was so happy and terrified at the same time I thought that bastard was having an aneurysm. I’m the one who came at the train station ‘cause Arthur still has to make a few last-minute adjustments to welcome you here.” As he talked, the young Shelby brother had freed one of his hands from your delicate body to pat the big Cane Corso’s head. The latter closed his eyes, mouth wide open and tongue hanging in bliss.

“A few adjustments?” You frowned.

“Like, threatening all the men of Small Heath not to even look at you, and dealing with Tommy’s reaction. He’s fuckin’ mad at you, eh.”

Of course, he was — you could not expect less from Thomas Shelby. God, you barely arrived in town he already found a way to bother you, even if he was not here. At this stage, he had real talent. “You know what? Fuck Tommy. If he thought I’d be dumb enough to stay out of the plan while my husband and you risk your lives, well it’s his problem, not mine. And if Changretta’s men come to my door, I’ll put them in the dirt myself.” That being said, you waved off the topic, “But let’s not talk about Tommy, please” You concluded, then laid a soft kiss on his chin. As your juicy lips crashed against his skin, John half-closed his eyelids and let out a soft exhale from his nostrils.

“Yeah, I bet you will,” He stated, referring to you possibly burying Changretta’s henchmen six feet deep. John enjoyed the physical contact for a few extra seconds, then he gently parted from you and closed his fingers around your wrist in a soft grip. You raised your gaze to him, surprised.

“Wait a minute. I just wanna check something before you get in my car.” His smile vanished, handing over to a very serious expression that kind of unsettled you.

“What‘s the problem?” Your smile followed his somewhere else. You didn’t know where, but what was sure was that it had left your face.

Without the slightest warning, John raised your arm above your head and made you twirl one first time, “Would you look at you, little angel! What a stunning outfit!” He exclaimed, before spinning you again to admire your otherworldly beauty, “Oh my God, I’m in love. Last time we met you were barefoot in the grass like some kind of ethereal nymphet and here you come in the shape of a goddess, dressed like a queen?” You suddenly chuckled at his unexpected reaction.

“Hey fuck you! You’ve scared me!” You nudged him in the ribs with your free arm, but it only made him laugh louder.

“My little heart can’t resist that.” He winked at you, his grin stretching in an adorably annoying smile only he could do before making you twirl again. Sometimes, you wondered if Tommy and he were really brothers. He is so different from Arthur and John. You thought.

“John! Shut up, dumbass. Your little heart can’t resist girls in general — or more like your cock can’t resist girls.” You rolled your eyes, faking an annoyed pout which only resulted in John protectively wrapping your shoulders with one arm.

“That’s my mean angel! Fuck I’ve missed you and your quick wit so bad. C’mon!” He said, grabbing your bag with his free hand before you started walking away. Kaiser ran and hopped inside the car a few seconds before you did.

The whole trip went well, casual conversations and joking with John had managed to alleviate the anger in your heart, which was far too focused on the driver’s joyful voice and stunning eyes. He talked to you about the kids, about his new house, and about some childhood stories. Surprisingly enough, each of his sentences had snatched a smirk from you despite the anxious situation in which the Shelbys were embedded. Nevertheless, your mind drifted away at some point and you stopped listening to him though. Not that he bothered you, but it was rather due to the fact that you lost yourself in the contemplation of the smallest details of his face. The adorable freckles, his little round ears, his pinchable cheeks… Everything about John Shelby made you feel at home.

“Is that fine with you?” His voice suddenly popped your thoughts bubble.

“Hm?”

“I was saying that you’re going to live a few days at me house just the time for Arthur to secure Watery Lane properly. You’ll spend Christmas with me, Esme, and the kids.” He repeated, noticing he had been talking to himself for a little while.

“Ah,” You started, batting your Bambi lashes quickly to chase away your daydreams. That was all you could say, for you dive into your thoughts right again. A comforting silence fell between you. After a little while, John slightly bit the inner of his cheek and glanced at you. The truth was he had been hesitating on his next move for five solid minutes. No matter how goofy John Shelby could act, he was a sharp observant. Considering his ease at analyzing people, he naturally noticed the way your fingers nervously played with the fabric of your dress, indicating your inner turmoil. The young gangster slowly moved his hand towards you, still conflicted about what he was about to do — Was it appropriate? Were you going to slap him? He hoped not, for he didn’t want to crash the car on the side of the road and explain the reason behind the accident to Esme. But worst than facing his wife’s wrath was to offend you.

No, no he wouldn’t want you to hate him. Yet, John was not the kind of man to let the demons of his mind win. Acting first, and thinking after was a motto he often applied in real life. He briefly looked at you again, his sky-blue eyes meeting your aquamarine iris before they shifted their focus back on the road. The young Shelby brother finally gathered his courage and rested his warm and strong hand on your thighs.

“Hey. Are you okay? You didn’t tell me what you think about living at me house.”

“Oh yeah,” You slightly shook your head, “That’s fine with me John boy.” You finally said, punctuating your sentence by gently covering his hand with yours and, to his greatest surprise, your small and cold fingers clenched around him. The physical contact almost immediately sent a wave of comforting warmth into your soul. John’s lips stretched in a caring smile and he replied to your sweet gesture by turning his hand to intertwine your fingers together.

That was definitely fine with you, for you knew that as long as John was around, there was no place for the storm.

Only for the sun.

A sun as bright as his smile.

“Get the fuck off my way.” Arthur’s gruff voice thundered in the hallway, followed by a noisy thud and Michael’s flourishing insults.

“Piss off, Arthur!”

The tall gangster had been so eager to rejoin his sweet angel after two awful weeks of loneliness that he had shoved Michael right into the nearest wall for the sole reason that he had been walking too slowly for Arthur’s tastes. All the while walking through the corridor, he had thrown his beret out of frustration and had brought his hands in his hair to nervously slick them back. He busted into the living room and his shiny steel blue eyes, sparkling with a gleam of hope, searched for you.

“Hey, Arthur.” When your soft voice swirled in the room and reached his ear with the tone of a mesmeric siren’s chant, goosebumps of excitation appeared on Arthur’s skin. Moving your body with a wildcat’s grace from the sofa, you stood up and looked at your husband with an adorably shy smile, like a young bride seeing her groom for the very first time. All the confidence you’ve felt kinda disappeared now that you were standing in front of him — would he be happy to see you? Or did you deceive him by disobeying and coming back to town despite Changretta’s men lurking in the shadow? You hadn’t the time to think about the matter though for Arthur rushed to you without waiting any longer and, with an uncontrolled strength enhanced by the power of his overflowing emotions, hugged your little frame. The gangster then lifted you from the ground, causing a cry of surprise to break free from your plumped and glossy lips.

“Bloody Hell, angel! I’ve told ye to stay safe at home!”

He said, putting you back on the ground right before cupping your face with his large, warm, and calloused hands, before you could even react, “I’ve told ye it was too fookin’ dangerous here! What if Changretta and his men would have attacked you on the train eh?!” He exclaimed, a bit more aggressively than intended. At first, you opened your mouth to reply but no sound came out. The sight of his pained eyes and his worried expression suddenly made you feel a bit guilty: if there was one thing you hated it was being the cause of his worries. “Hmm?!” He insisted when faced with your silence. His piercing blue iris dived into yours, looking in their celestial frost for the answer your mouth could not produce.

“I— I don’t care. If you’re in trouble then I am too. If you fight, I fight. If you die, then I fucking die. We’re one, and I’m sick of acting like the good frail wife waiting for her husband to come back from the war,” You started, shaking yourself out of your silence; and the more you spoke, the more your confidence came back, backfiring, “I don’t care about the danger, Arthur.” A desperate smile stretched the corner of your lips, making your eyes squint a little bit. A smile both tainted with sadness and mad love, “The first time we met I’ve made the promise that you’ll never face Hell alone ever again and I don’t plan to back up now that we’re at its gates.”

“Yer fookin’ crazy, I swear you are.” He replied. His eyes shone with dawning tears as he observed your holy pulchritude, “Out of yer goddamn mind, Heaven Shelby… Fookin’ bonkers.” His face relaxed, anger swept away by the winter breeze that had rushed into the living room through the open window. Arthur finally let out a nervous yet endeared little chuckle and shook his head in disbelief, "You're so much trouble eh."

“I’ve learned from you.” You straight off replied, gently pressing your forehead against his in this intimate gesture that was so proper to him. Yet, he didn’t reply right away, still shaken by your fierceness — these last two weeks had almost made him forget how untamable you were. He wanted to scold you for behaving in such a reckless way — He really did. But the truth was big bad Arthur Shelby couldn’t resist you. And God knew how hard it was to function without your heavenly and reassuring presence. If he had to be honest, he would admit that he wasn’t sure he could do it without you anymore. He was consumed by his love for you, body and soul.

A little sigh escaped from his lips as his boiling worries slowly faded away, drowning himself in the little details of your face. With trembling fingers, Arthur grazed your snow-white hair. Fuck, he had missed you bad. Very bad. To the extent of drinking himself to sleep almost every night and lashing out at the boxing ring, mercilessly beating his opponents, for these were the only ways he had found not to slip into pure insanity.

“Angel —“ He started, wanting to say so many things at once, but words choked in his throat. Closing his mouth, Arthur swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he did. The joy of having you there was so intense that his mind could not find something relevant to say: he wanted to talk about Tommy, about the letter he had sent you, about the Changrettas but nothing mattered anymore. What did though was you and him. That was why he finally gave up everything to hug your frame again, his spine bent so that he could bury his face in your small breasts. “I promise I’ll protect ye with me whole life, Angel. No one’s gonna hurt ye. Not on me watch.” He finally mumbled, the sound of his words muffled against the soft pale skin your cleavage exposed, thus turning his plead into more of a symphony of low grunts than anything else.

“I’m here, darling.” You reassured him. Arthur squeezed your body a bit too painfully in reply, but you didn’t mind. The uncomfortable pressure of his brutal grip chased your worries away and made your whole soul flicker — It made you feel so tiny, so fragile, as no other men did before, and you genuinely liked it. So, he could break you in half with his hug if he wanted, you would be okay if it was the price to pay to keep feeling his possessive and aggressive love all around you.

With the desire to soothe his heated spirit and confusing thoughts that were bumping into each other in his confused head, you let your small fingers lose themselves in his messy hair. Your gesture brought immediate relief, whose warm sensation spread in his bones at the contact with your frozen skin. Arthur’s whole being gradually relaxed, and he could finally let out the pressure of these last two weeks. All of sudden, you felt salty and wet drops running down your chest, “I’ve fookin’ missed ye.” He lamented, his crystal tears dying in your cleavage. Parting from you was the worst idea ever, he thought, and he didn’t want to experience it ever again.

“I’ve missed you too.” You said in a whisper. Ceasing to caress his hair, you put your hand on the back of his head and pressed his face a bit more against your bosom, keeping him still until his grip finally loosen around you and his tears run dry. Now that the storm of emotions was slowly calming down, Arthur sniffed one last time and raised his head, his lips reaching for yours. The press of his kiss, eager and hungry, dissipated the last couple of clouds of his troubled mind the moment your flesh reunited. Weakened by his scorching passion, your legs shook at the sweet and liquored taste of whisky on your tongue, while his strong hands explored you just as if the tall gangster wanted to make sure you were really here. To make sure he was not dreaming. His hands grabbed you, rubbed the sides of your thighs, ran up the curves of your ass, and then clenched on your shoulder blades for a short while before going down again to seize your waist in a bruising movement. You squeezed your eyes tighter, shaken to the core by the way his fingers left streams of fire in their trail, melting the ice that had settled under your skin the night he had left the house without you. Arthur deepened the kiss, almost leaving you breathless.

After an undefinable while during which you both lost the notion of time, his tongue gave yours one last stroke before he finally broke the kiss and reopened his eyes. Yes… You were still there — to his greatest relief. You let out a faint feverish sigh, the sensation of his kiss still tingling on your swollen lips, then you tilted your head to the side. Betrothed by your adorable pout, Arthur’s smile widened until the crow feet at the corner of his eyes appears.

“Look at you. You’re fookin’ stunning, little one.” He laid his big hand on your cheek and you gently rubbed it against his palm in reply.

“What about you tell me what you're up to instead of treating me like a little girl, Mr Shelby?” You teased, your reunion definitely erasing the worries out of your brain, even if the threat section D had sent you still lingered at the back of your mind.

“Listen,” He started, his thumb brushing your lips with utter desire but he tried not to get too distracted by them, “John should have already told ye but you’re going to stay here ‘til Christmas hm? The house isn’t safe yet and you’ll be safer with Esme and the kids. Also, John will stick around to protect you. Just until Christmas right?”

“What about you?” You retorted, furrowing your brows.

“As for me Tommy and I will figure out what to do. But don’t ye worry… " He brought his face closer, his mouth reaching your ear, "Each night I’ll be back in your arms and I’ll show ye how bad I’ve missed you.” He whispered, his low voice alike the growl of a starving wolf, “I'm a little afraid ye’ forgot what’s like to feel your husband, hmm.” A little amused snort came from your nostrils at the delightful perspectives. For sure, Arthur’s way to make up for the last two weeks of loneliness you’ve both been through was particularly exciting.

“You think so? Little evil me is not so sure if she prefers Kaiser’s presence next to her in bed rather than yours. ”

“We’ll see, love.” He was about to kiss you a second time to shut your bratty mouth when Esme appeared at the doorframe, arms crossed in her chest and one brow raised.

“There are kids there.” She reminded, her voice cold and slightly bothered. Of course, she wasn’t enchanted by your stay here, but it has been two years since you joined the Shelby family, which had given her all the time needed to tame her hostility toward you. Your relationship was still rocky, but at least she had stopped insulting you on every occasion.

“Oops, sorry Esme.” You replied with the biggest and most charming smile you could do before taking a step back from your husband to help him —and you— resist the temptation of giving in to your burning desires. Arthur could not help but chuckle at the comment. He slipped his hands into the pocket of his long black coat, coming to the conclusion that it was safer if they stayed there.

“Alright, no need to bark Esme.” He grunted, but the sincerity of his grumpiness was definitely undermined by the faint smirk etched on his lips.

“I’ve made tea.” Esme went on, her magnificent brown eyes going from Arthur to you several times. Their dark color struck you for one second for their hard beauty reminded you of autumn leaves spinning in the immensity of her iris. You did not hate her. You never did. As harsh as her behavior had been, you had come to understand that her reactions were dictated by fear rather than spite. As a very catholic person, Esme was more than terrified by evil spirits — and she ultimately thought you were one, not seeing the enamored twenty-five-year-old girl you were, but the evil witch you could be. You could not blame her though, for she wasn’t entirely wrong. Somehow, you were convinced that Esme was the only one of the family who truly understood your dormant dangerous nature. What she did not grasp though was the sincerity of your feelings, “Hurry up.” She said, turning around and returning to the kitchen.

“Come on,” You gently wrapped your arms around your husband, “Kaiser is waiting in the kitchen. He’s going to be so happy!”

“Ah right, let’s see the man who took me place in bed.”

Arthur had barely stepped into the room when you heard the dog’s frantic barks, soon followed by his muscular body running toward his master to greet him with great enthusiasm. The sight of Kaiser almost reaching Arthur’s height, with his two front paws on his shoulders, filled you with joy.

It was at this very moment that you were almost convinced that nothing could go wrong.

The calm of the forest was a type of peacefulness nothing else could outmatch. All that was lacking from this grandiose landscape was the mighty shadow of the old and wise mountains of Haute-Falaise, whose silent lullaby could only be heard by those who paid close attention to it. From where you came, Christmas was always synonymous with snow along with the cold sensation of frosty wind biting at your face. Each time you would come back home after a joyful moment of playing games outside with your little sister, the warmth of the hearth’s fire would welcome you. But this Christmas, like many others since you left France, there was no snow. No mountains. And no little sister anymore. You were alone in the forest, wandering among the dead trees and the howling breeze.

Katie had woken up with a light fever, and she had cried in her father’s arms for twenty strong minutes before he managed to hush down her sorrow. Following a quick discussion with John, you informed him that you knew a natural remedy against fever and then, you went in the forest to collect the few plants you needed to concoct a healing tea. Esme would have naturally disagreed with the idea if John had told her, which hadn’t been the case. Instead, you simply replied that you needed some fresh air when she asked you why you were venturing outside the house on Christmas morning.

Oh, fuck it's you. Got nothing better to do on Christmas morning? // Tommy wants everybody at Charlie's Yard now, come on.

You’ve been wandering for over one hour when you finally found all the plants you needed for Katie’s tea. Satisfied, you headed back home with a light heart, already thinking about the pleasant breakfast that was waiting for you. A small grin flattered your lips at the thought of the children tearing their gifts’ paper apart and screaming with awe at the discovery of their new toys.

What's gonna happen man, it's fucking Christmas.

Moreover, you could not wait for the adults to open their gifts too. Even if Ada told everyone to focus on the kids, you could not help but buy a little something for the house’s hosts: a beautiful silver necklace with a protective crystal pendant for Esme, and an expensive ring for John inside which was engraved the sentence “Le soleil brûle dans ton sourire” which meant "The sun burns in your smile".

John. John, come to the meeting. All right? Think about the kids. Come to the meeting and if you want to leave, then fine.

For sure you could not wait to see their surprised expression slowly shifting to joy the moment you would give them their gifts! A little smile flattered your lips at such adorable thought. In truth, you had stopped celebrating Christmas for so long that the perspective to do it today delighted you. It was going to be a wonderful, wonderful day.

Get in the fuckin' house!

The petrifying detonations of gunshots tore the forest’s silence apart, which caused a cloud of afraid birds to erupt from the trees’ thick foliage. One shot, the surprise made you wonder if you had really heard that or if it was just the traumatizing memories of men chasing you down in the forest that was playing with your mind. Two shots, you turned towards where the noise was coming from, realizing it was real. Three shots — they stirred a brutal pain in your chest. A pain so vivid your fingers loosened their grips on the plants, letting them go, and grabbed the place where your heart was. It was drumming so hard in your chest that you felt it was about to burst your ribcage open. Crushed by the unexplainable ache and a crawling feeling of anxiety, you leaned against a tree not to collapse on the muddy soil. Your throat felt tight, to the extent you could barely breathe anymore. With eyes wide open, you desperately tried to calm yourself and comprehend what was happening to you. And suddenly the macabre evidence of the whole situation hit you like a train — a suffocating panic seized you again as you realized that the gunshots were not coming from hunters in the forest but from John's house.

No.

Your body moved slowly from the tree, taking a few wobbly steps.

“No!” Your voice yelled but no one was there to hear your desperate cry except the pristine nature, which had sent the wind to howl in pain with you. A surge of adrenaline ran through your body and, as if you had received the fiercest whiplash ever, you started running to the house as fast as you could. You ran faster and faster, with the cold breeze biting your face and brambles clawing at your exposed skin as you rushed past thick bushes. That was all you could do anyway for every other function of your being had shut down to focus only on your restless race. You could not think straight anymore. You could not hear anything else than the brutal beating of your heart resonating in your skull. Gosh, you couldn't even see properly, your vision narrowed into a small point in the horizon that was John's house. So you just ran, you ran no matter the insufferable burn in your lungs and the soreness of your legs.

"Hey! Come back, little doe". You could almost hear them behind you. The cruel men who hunted little thirteen years old you in the dark woods of Haute-Falaise. "We’re not gonna hurt you! Fuck — where’s that little slut?!"

Moving away the last branches aside, you jumped above a thick root and broke the last meters that separated you from the house. That was when you heard it, the agonizing scream of Esme. Her voice, filled with pain and fear, almost pierced your eardrums like the wailing lament of a Banshee. You reached the front of the house and suddenly, your legs made an abrupt stop, refusing to move anymore. In front of your wide-opened eyes, from which tears were already leaking, laid the inanimate body of both Michael and John in a crimson puddle of their own blood.

"John! Oh my God, John! No!" Esme yelled, her face contorting with indescribable sorrow and insufferable ache. She was kneeling on the pavement and hugging the motionless frame of her husband, whose skin already faded two shades paler. The young Romani beauty shook him but John's eyes remained shut. At first, you wanted to scream along with her, giving in to panic, but no sound came from your mouth. Instead, you let your quivering body drop to its knees and immediately put the moist palms of your hands on your best friend's wounded chest — The numerous bullet holes had made flowers of blood blossom on the white fabric of his shirt.

You took a deep breath, threw your head back, and closed your eyes in a desperate attempt to channel all the magic that was running in your blood to save him. After all, you had witnessed your mother performing similar miracles in your childhood. All you needed to save him was a faint beating of his heart, even the weakest would do the trick. Thus, you focused on your task the best you could and drained yourself of most of your energy in the hope of seeing John reopening his magnificent blue eyes and offering you one of his beaming smiles. You were pretty sure that he would come back to life, just like the bird you had found in the garden two years ago. Yes, you were going to bring him back to life, and this awful nightmare would be over and you would all have a good fairy tale ending.

— But life wasn't like the tales you loved: his heart had stopped beating for too long for you to do anything. It had been only a matter of minutes but still, you came too late.

You came too late.

When you understood it, a river of tears streamed down your angelic face. One of your hands gently moved up to his throat, and you pressed two fingers on his carotid artery to check his pulse in a desperate and last attempt to feel something, but there was nothing. Only the dull silence of Death. You slowly backed off and looked at the surprisingly peaceful expression on his face, forever frozen by the Reaper's cold kiss.

John was gone.

And so was the sun.

✞ A little note now that you've finished this chapter: Heaven did not ignore poor Michael by the way. When walking past him she noticed that his wound was not as serious as John's, so she decided to check him after checking John.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ gif by the amazing @fkmylif3

✞ Tag list: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @brummiereader @alexandra-001 @dearshelby

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house-of-slayterr · 2 years

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Criminal Minds Incorrect Quotes:

Hotch: Damn, the power went out.

Y/N: Don’t worry, I got this.

Y/N: *shakes rapidly and starts to light up*

Hotch: What-?

Y/N: I swallowed a glow stick!

Hotch, on the verge of tears: WHY WOULD YOU-

Derek , throwing their head into Y/N's lap: Tell me I'm pretty!

Y/N, lovingly stroking their hair: You're pretty fucking annoying, that's what you are.

Y/N: I can’t believe all these people are wearing black. black is supposed to be my thing, they’re all just posers.

Derek : Y/N, for the last time, we’re at a funeral.

Garcia : You spent all our money on THIS??

Y/N, putting tiny raincoats on ducklings: They live outside. They need this.

Garcia : Treat spiders the way you want to be treated.

Y/N: Killed without hesitation.

The Team: 👀 *blink blink*

JJ: Life is like Y/N. It's short.

Y/N: Where are you going?

JJ: To either get ice cream or commit a felony. I'll decide on the way.

Y/N: Why does my arm shake and turn bright red when I’m eating dirt?

Emily :

Emily : Why are you eating dirt?

Y/N: Did I ask you if I should eat dirt? No, so answer my question.

An: Fucking Cannon

Emily : Don’t preach to me about romance, Y/N. I had a three-way in a hot-air balloon.

Rossi, looking at their reflection: Now, that's rubbish. Who's that supposed to be?

Y/N: Well, that's you.

Rossi: Me?! Is that what I look like?

Y/N: You don't know?

Rossi: Busy day.

Rossi: Well, Y/N and I finally did it!

The rest of the squad: *gasps, shocked expressions, etc.*

Rossi: That's right... We kissed!

Spencer : *Answers phone.* Hello?

Y/N: It's Y/N.

Spencer : What did they do this time?

Y/N: No, it's me, Spencer . It's actually me.

Spencer : What did you do this time?

Spencer : Are you an ‘arr’ pirate or a ‘yo ho ho’ pirate?

Y/N: I’m a ‘I’m not paying $600 for photoshop’ pirate.

Spencer : I find it very unseemly of Garcia to start dating again. Isn't the customary period of mourning 10 years?

Y/N: Die. Let's find out.

Garcia : Who knew getting in trouble would be so impossible?

Spencer : I gotta give you credit, Y/N. You make it look easy.

Y/N: Years of practice.

Hotch : Sorry, I'm late to the party. I've been doing things.

Y/N, entering in an unbuttoned shirt: I got caught up doing things too.

Rossi: Wow, Hotch was late too! What a coincidence!

Y/N: So what’s the plan?

Rossi: I don’t know. You’re smart, *points at Hotch * they’re mean, come up with something.

Y/N: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming?

Spencer : Can everyone in this godforsaken group please learn the skill called "Think Before You Speak"?

Elle: Ya know... it might be.

Y/N: So... who's the big spoon and who's the little spoon?

Elle: We're chopsticks!

Y/N: Well... that's cute!

Y/N: Does that mean you two snuggle together perfectly?

Spencer : No, it means that if you take the other away, the only thing the other is good for is stabbing.

Emily : For self defense reasons, I'm going to pretend to be a burglar and you guys have to act wisely.

Y/N, Spencer , & Derek : Okay.

Emily : If you don't want to die, give me all your money.

Y/N: Bold of you to assume I have money.

Spencer : Bold of you to assume I don't want to die.

Derek : Bold of you to assume I can die.

JJ, texting in the group chat: I wonder what Apple shots would look like?

Y/N: *Sends a picture of of a syringe with an apple slice shoddily edited inside*

Emily : *Sends a picture of a shot glass with an Apple poorly drawn inside*

Garcia : *Sends picture of person dunking a Basketball into the hoop but replaced the basketball with a poorly resized apple*

JJ: I hate all of you.

Spencer : Time for plan G.

Y/N: Don’t you mean plan B?

Spencer : No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties.

Rossi: What about plan D?

Spencer : Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago.

Hotch : What about plan E?

Spencer : I’m hoping not to use it. Derek dies in plan E.

Derek: I like plan E.

An: I didn’t include Gideon because fuck that guy!

#criminal minds headcanons #criminal minds #criminal minds incorrect quotes #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jereau #jj criminal minds #penelope garcia #elle greenaway #criminal minds x reader #david rossi

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multiplicity-positivity · 10 months

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Shoutout to nonspeaking and semispeaking/speechflux systems!

Many autistic systems and headmates may struggle with speaking coherently, forming sentences, and having full, vocal conversations. However, this doesn’t mean that they shouldn’t have autonomy or agency, and that their thoughts and ideas should not be expressed and heard! This post is for all the nonspeaking and semispeaking/speechflux systems out there!

💬 Shoutout to systems who use AAC in order to communicate with others!

☎️ Shoutout to systems who stutter, speak in quotes, songs, fragments, or run-on sentences, communicate with single words, or otherwise struggle with verbal communication!

🗣 Shoutout to nonspeaking systems who use gestures, sign language, communication cards, grunts/small sounds, or any combination of these in order to communicate!

💌 Shoutout to nonspeaking systems who express themselves through different forms of art and music!

📚 Shoutout to systems who are speechflux or experience speech loss, whether regularly or occasionally!

♾ Shoutout to individual headmates in autistic systems who are speechflux or nonspeaking!

😶 Shoutout to systems who struggle with communication and choose to just not speak because it’s easier for them!

📱 Shoutout to nonspeaking systems who use AAC to communicate online!

📢 Shoutout to systems who need accommodations in order to communicate and function in daily life!

👩‍👦 Shoutout to nonspeaking systems who cannot express themselves without their caregiver present!

💭 Shoutout to nonspeaking and speechflux headmates who are symptom holders for other autistic traits!

Just because you or your system struggles with speech and communication does not mean you’re less deserving of agency and autonomy in your life! You deserve to be surrounded by folks who are patient, understanding, and willing to accommodate your difficulties with speech.

We’re wishing you a future full of peace, joy, and self-expression! Please know that, regardless of how much or little you are able to vocalize your thoughts, your ideas are bold, brilliant, beautiful, and just as important as anyone else’s. You will always be a vital and cherished member of the plural community, and we are so glad to have you here! Please let us know if there is anything we can do to accommodate or support you on our blog. Thanks so much for reading, and have a wonderful day!

(Image ID:) A pale orange userbox with a cluster of multicolored flowers for the userbox image. The border and text are both dark orange, and the text reads “all plurals can interact with this post!” (End ID.)

#multiplicity #pluralgang #plurality #actuallyplural #system positivity #plural positivity #plural pride #system pride #nonspeaking #speech loss #speechflux #nonverbal

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sacrificetotheart · 3 months

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ive just finished reading — ‘at your command [1939]’, and i wanted to share some quotes i underlined and some quotes that really spoke to me. some quotes that really made an impact on me ive made bold and in italics! i wanted to make this post because i see a lot of the same quotes used online (for good reasons of course) but i found ones while reading that i really loved so i wanted to share! enjoy!

CHAPTER ONE:

💫 not one thing has ever appeared in mans world but what man decreed that it should. that is; every man is conscious of being that which he has decreed himself to be.

✨ this is the truth that makes man free, for man is always self-imprisoned or self-freed.

🌙 if you, the reader, will give up all of your former beliefs in a god apart from yourself, and claim god as your awareness of being - you will transform your world.

⭐️ heaven is within you.

CHAPTER TWO:

💫 if i be lifted up in consciousness to the naturalness of the thing desired, i will draw the manifestation of that desire unto me.

✨ for your conviction of yourself - your opinion of yourself will determine your expression in life.

🌙 so, cant you see why millions of prayers are unanswered? men pray to a god that does not exist.

⭐️ the signs always follow. they will never precede.

🌻 do not discuss your ambitions or desires with another for the other will only echo your present fears.

CHAPTER THREE:

💫 you cannot take with you into the new consciousness any part of the old man. all of your present beliefs, fears and limitations are weights that bind you to your present level of consciousness.

✨ you could never be in want of proof or lack of evidence of that which you are aware of being. this being true, why not become aware of being great; god-loving; wealthy; healthy; and all attributes that you admire?

🌙 simple, is it not? too simple in fact for the wisdom of man that tries to complicate everything.

CHAPTER FOUR:

💫 when you come into the joy of thanksgiving so that you actually feel grateful for having received that which is not yet apparent to the sense, you have definitely become one in consciousness with the thing for which you give thanks.

✨ you are ever receiving that which you are aware of being and no man gives thanks for something which he has not received. ‘thank you, father,’ is not, as it is used by many today, a sort of magical formula. you have already accepted the gift which was now but a desire before you rose in consciousness, and your faith is now the substance that shall clothe your desire.

🌙 do you really want it? do you desire it? that is all that is necessary.

⭐️ for life makes no mistakes and always gives man that which man first gives himself.

CHAPTER FIVE:

💫 take your attention from being imprisoned and begin to feel yourself be free. FEEL it to the point where it is natural - the very second you do so, those prison bars will dissolve.

✨ claim yourself to be the thing desired.

🌙 believe this truth and you will be free. ‘i am’ comes not to destroy but to fulfill.

⭐️ to constantly kick and complain against the limitations of poverty while remaining poor in consciousness is to play the fools game.

CHAPTER SIX:

💫 life does not care whether you call yourself rich or poor; strong or weak. it will eternally reward you with that which you claim as true of yourself.

✨ stop asking yourself whether you are worthy or unworthy to receive that which you desire.

🌙 so, leave all judgement out of the picture and rise in consciousness to the level of your desire and make yourself one with it by claiming it to be so now. have faith in this unseen claim until the conviction is born within you that it is so.

⭐️ dont be anxious or concerned as to results. they will follow just as surely as day follows night.

🌻 do not condition your desire. just accept it as it comes to you. gives thanks for it to the point that you are grateful for having already received it - then go about your way in peace. for when you can drop the thing desired in consciousness, confident that it shall appear, you have done all that is expected of you.

🌟 realize that the earth is yours.

#neville #neville goddard #manifesting #manifestation #law of assumption #loa tumblr #loa blog #loassumption #at your command neville #my quotes #my post #quotes #manifesation

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randomfoggytiger · 2 days

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Kitchener Essences: Gillian Anderson

The Kitchener Essence Types, created by John Kitchener, is most often used in conjunction with Kibbe Body Types: once one knows what flatters the lines and contours of their body (Kibbe), then the rules can be shifted a tad to enhance an aspect of their personality that might seem at odds with the traditional understanding of Dramatic, Natural, Classic, Romantic, and Gamine body types.

THE KITCHENER ESSENCE SYSTEM

Kitchener's methods follow the same path that Kibbe took, carrying on the fashion models from previous stylists but tweaking them to focus on specific areas. While Kibbe created a system that works best with the "science" of the body (height and yin-yang balance of the skeleton, muscles, and flesh), Kitchener's was based solely on a person's essence: their vibe, if you will. It focuses heavily on one's face to determine Essence-- the exact opposite of what Kibbe teaches (faces aren't a notoriously unreliable indicator for an overall body type); but both methods work in harmony with one another, one picking up right where the other left off.

Kitchener's Essences include Dramatic, Natural, Classic, Romantic, Gamine, Ingenue, and Ethereal (also known as Angelic.)

A person contains more than one Essence, creating a blend of primary, secondary, even tertiary (or more) characteristics that allow them greater range to express themselves. The primary essence dominates their "personality", and therefore their style and outfits; the secondary complements the primary essence to a lesser degree; and the tertiary can take up the rear as an additional small touch to a completed look (hairstyle or earrings or purse or shoes or scarf, etc.) It's a system built on gut intuition, balancing the percentages of this or that Essence to successfully zero in on the whole.

DESCRIPTIONS

To keep this as uncomplicated as possible, I will be quoting and pulling screenshots from Ellie-Jean Royden's video here-- a perfect primer-- but also highly recommend any and all Gabriella Arruda videos on the topic: she's great at creating real life examples of Kitchener/Kibbe/Seasonal palette wardrobes for her clients.

Dramatic

Yang Dominant (strong features), sharp, narrow, theatrical, wildness, boldness, extravagance, danger, extreme or vivid coloring, high and sharp cheekbones, feline or tilted or close set eyes, sharp jawline, thin lips, angularity, high and sharp cheekbones.

They can look quite harsh... as if their faces are coming right "at" you as compared to Ethereals, which are drifting "away" from you.

Dramatics dress best in unconventional or unusual patterns and textures, suits, asymmetry, straight and narrow silhouettes, extravagance, oversized shapes and patterns, chunky accessories, animal prints, bold colors, and shine. When they dress creatively or in unusual styles, rather than looking "crazy" they look quite self-assured and confident and quite elegant.

Natural

Yang Dominant (strong features), relaxed, casual, down-to-earth, easy-going, sportive, laidback, earthy, outdoors, approachable, wildness, girl next door, modelesque, asymmetrical features, wide as compared to narrow and sharp, toothy smile, blunt jaw, close set or smallish eyes, lack "perfect" balance.

This Essence is what Kibbe's Naturals are often mischaracterized as: the "approachable, Mother Nature, outdoorsy" vibe rather than the strictly long, strong, blunt skeletal structure of Kibbe's method.

Natural clothing lines are quite simple: they're comfortable, they're oversized, they're relaxed.... Earthy, sportive. They all look quite elegant in informal and loose-fitting styles (whereas on other Essences this will look quite sloppy....) They look good in irregularity, in asymmetry, steadiness, long lines, unstructured shapes and interesting textures.... They will look good in original shapes-- for example, a stone necklace... that hasn't been carved into a perfect circle. They look good in slouchy, unruly styles-- relaxed. They look good in layering. Earthy colors, earthy tribal or bohemian patterns, and denim as well.

Gamine

Yang Dominant (strong features), boyishly cute, playful, dramatic, creative, whimsical, quirky, rebellious, youthful, "childlike", large eyes, large forehead, small nose, round or square face, pixie-like youthful sharpness, impish, small and sharp.

...Gamines would look best in boyish styles (like rolled up jeans, t-shirts, suspenders, fitted clothes.) They'll often look most feminine in short hair, like a pixie-cut-- especially when it's tussled. When they poke at fashion and try styles which don't conform... also in whimsical, creative things. They look good in minimal jewelry because [it's] often so feminine. ...But if the jewelry was something whimsical-- like ice cream earrings-- that would look really cool on a Gamine. They look good in hoodies: they don't look like they're wearing children's clothes, they look quite cool. Lots of detail, like pockets, buttons, geometric prints, high-contrast colors. Details should be small and compact rather than large and oversized. The [have a sense of] "tussle" and "motion" that comes through in their clothes... a zigzag would be a good example.... They look good in playful styles; in tailoring when styles are straight and narrow; in a sort of mix-and-match...; vintage and retro styles. In all of this, they will look cool and self-assured rather than odd or strange.

Classic

Neither Yin nor Yang Dominant (symmetrically blended features), formal, elegant, conservative, timeless, not one feature "jumps out" over another (neither large or small, nor close together or far apart), minimal detail, smooth and controlled lines.

The less detail in [their] clothing, the more of their beauty that you see-- they really shine against minimal detail.... They look good in smooth and controlled lines. They become more memorable as everything else is "stripped" away. They look good in timeless looks-- it doesn't look boring or outdated; tends to look very elegant and chic. You could even describe them as looking regal... in these styles. They look good in symmetry, balance, neutral colors, and quality fabrics.

Romantic

Yin Dominant (soft features), sensual, luxurious, indulgence, glamor, softness, alluring, lush lips, smoldering or large eyes, narrow jaws, possibly large foreheads, a rounded face, dark or red hair brings out their Essence more.

To dress for Romantic Essence, you would dress in lots of detail-- especially feminine details. Ruffles, ruching, draping... clingy fabrics, those sorts of lush details. They look good in elaborate, large, and luscious hair; ornate jewelry; ...clothes that are figure hugging, and draped, and in clingy fabric. When they dress in glamorous looks, it doesn't look like they're trying too hard-- in fact, it looks the opposite: it looks completely elegant and not overly sexy on them. They look good in large, floral prints. In indulgence. In soft, flowing, and draped fabrics. ...With gathering, with sheen, with luxurious fabrics like velvet and silk. They look good in lace, and the color red.

Ingenue

Yin Dominant (soft features), innocent and youthful femininity, girlish, sweet, cute, gentle, pretty, "childlike" innocence, delicate, idealistic, small-scale, delicate, small and round face, possibly small chin, small nose, round and wide-set eyes, plump lips, round cheeks, curly hair or tight curls, joyful smiles, adorable.

Lines: ...very cute, youthful, delicate, intricate, decorative, small, "innocent." ...Small bows; tiny flowers; headbands; puffed sleeves; short, flouncy dresses-- they should look pretty and playful. Delicate, compact shapes (like Gamines look good in small, compact smiles. But instead of being playful and boyish, it's playful and girlish.) Pretty trimmings like ruffles and bows. Whimsical patterns, pastel colors, lace, and vintage designs.

Ethereal

The most Yin (and Yang) of the Essences: femininity that's neither youthful nor sexual, purity, maturity and wisdom, ancient old souls, unusual looking, "passionless" sort of beauty, looking inwards, ancient, otherworldly, very elongated facial features, possibly very round and wide set eyes, angelic, embody stone angel sculptures, elongated 'S' curve that is very subtly and tightly rounded (a lily compared to a Romantic's rounded and lush rose shape), oval or sculpted faces, low contrast and saturation, "drifting away", uncanny, almost "inhuman" in appearance.

There are various facets to Ethereal Essence and how to bring that out. ...Very otherworldly, celestial styles look good-- also, pure styles. A lot of wedding dresses would look great... because they're low contrast (they're white, they're often sheer), they're long.... They look good with plaits and braids because, again... of that 'S' curve: they're very elongated but with roundedness. They look good in metallic and sheen. In soft diagonal lines, like handkerchief hems. They look good... in anything fluttery. They look good with abstract, winged creatures like fairies or birds. Watercolor looks really good.... Abstract prints. Anything shimmery or with iridescence. They look good in celestial styles, like stars and moons, with mermaid shapes. Layering looks really when it creates that "waterfall" effect. (There's definitely a tie between Natural Essence and Ethereal Essence: a lot of what looks good on one will look good on the other. But Natural Essence is a lot "harder" than Ethereal Essence.) Anything that's draped, elongated, sheer: it gives an impression of an angel.

HOW TO ASSESS AN ESSENCE TYPE

It's not often that one's relaxed, resting face matches up completely (or sometimes at all) with their true personality. However, it is what others notice in a glance and make an assessment off of. Furthermore, most people's moods can't be up or down enough throughout the day to completely do away with their neutral expression, no matter hard how they may try in either direction.

Therefore, we look for as neutral an expression as possible; then cross-reference that person against each Essence trait to narrow down possibilities.

GILLIAN ANDERSON

I see a lot of people place Gillian in either Kitchener's or Kibbe's Classic categories. Since, however, her body falls into Kibbe's Theatrical Romantic category (post here)-- short, wide-ish, delicate bones with a touch of angularity-- that leaves us with Kitchener as a last resort. So: is she, or isn't she?

Luckily for us, GA wore a lot of red, which means we'll pretty much have a matching shade of some sort to cross reference in each category (or for all the categories she learned works for her, at least.)

What Gillian Is Not

Classic

Ironically, the worst Essence for Gillian is Classic: dressing down to dress up does not jive at all with GA, making her appear older, unfinished, and lackluster-- even in silhouettes that flatter her Kibbe body type.

The last look is somewhat redeemed by its accompanying accessories, her hairstyle, and the length of her dress (to be discussed below.) It's an easy trick her stylists use on various "Classic" gigs: most of her jewelry is either very blingy or very long and understated, drawing the visual line away from their client's simplified hairstyle and bloodless outfit.

Gamine

Gillian's second worst Essence is Gamine: yes, it plays into her short limbs, short torso, short legs; but the expression on her face, when neutral, clashes with the vivacious energy of her silhouettes.

Gillian appears most in her skin in the middle picture-- though it still looks like's she's promoting a stage production of Peter Pan-- mainly because of the feminine makeup and the red of her wrap (we'll also get to that below.) Even then, the photographer still toned the clash down a little by highlighting the sharpness in her features: pivoting the softness of her fleshy arms behind her body; popping her shoulders forward; and angling the shot around them, her collar bones, and her jaw.

Ingenue

Gillian's third "worst" Essence is Ingenue: small, girlish details seem at odds with her longer facial features and resting expression.

However, GA is able to pull this one off better than Gamine and Classic because of her inner personality, shining through with a wide smile or genuinely delighted, carefree laughter. The photographer skillfully tapped into that part of her in the third shot especially: but, again, she's posed and photographed very carefully.

Natural

The last of the "worst": Natural isn't too bad on Gillian; but it doesn't rest comfortably on her, either. The length of the silhouette matches the length of her facial features (which is what we're ultimately measuring against); but too many relaxed layers weigh her down and ultimately drown her.

Again, Gillian's expression in the middle photo helps her pull of the approachable, easy-going "vibe" a Natural Essence gives off. When straight-faced, however, she looks more disheveled than approachably chic.

What Gillian Is

Dramatic

GA can pull off the sharpness and theatrical drama of the Dramatic Essence in small, tertiary doses: sharp heels or a flamboyant bag or statement earrings, etc. Too many elements together and the clothes start wearing her, turning her into an overdone fashion mannequin.

In the first picture, Gillian is decked out from head-to-toe in a Dramatic outfit; and we've lost the essence of Gillian immediately with her makeup style and her hairstyle and her shoulder pads and her severe V-neck and her stiffly tailored suit dress and her statement heels. In the middle picture, Gillian is more toned down but is suffering from two things: not enough accessories (ala the Classic Essence) and too much severity with her hairstyle and stiff dress. In the last picture, Gillian looks the best; but the stiff tailoring, while aesthetically pleasing, overwhelms her best features with the addition of her shoes and hair. The stylists were clever here, too; drawing out more angularity with her pose (enhancing her side profile, for example) and hiding away her softness (framing the shot around a side-to squat)-- magic that looks cool in a photoshoot but would play out differently in real life.

Romantic

Gillian has Romantic as her secondary Essence. Not only is she enhanced by figure-hugging silhouettes, but sexy outlines don't appear over-sexualized or apart from her. An added bonus: red is the one color most Romantic Essences can pull off without a hitch as it adds to their allure more prominently than it detracts from their seasonal color palette. And that is likely why she wears it a lot.

Romantic Essence mellows the Dramatic touches in her face, giving her softer lips and cheekbones; large, wide, expressive eyes; and free reign to express herself as luxuriously, richly, and sensually as she wants without appearing overdone or gaudy.

Ethereal

Probably not a huge surprise; but nonetheless, Gillian's primary Essence is Ethereal! Her long facial features, thinner than average nose, a sculptured-out-of-marble profile combine to create a timeless, unageing, descended-straight-from-the-heavens-above angelic essence.

It explains why Gillian, despite being 5'2" and having the Romantic trait of short and wide limbs, appears taller and lankier than her true proportions: more intimidating, more commanding, and more austere externally than what is actually passing through her head (as she's remarked recently.) Ethereal Essence gives her the ability to pull of longer, drapier, "heavier" silhouettes than is normally advised for Theatrical Romantics' everyday wear.

All Together

Combining all three of Gillian's Essences, we get some very striking looks from her.

From what I've seen, Hannibal and The Falls do an excellent job of combining all three of Gillian's Essences: buttery soft silks, sheer or luxurious or draped fabrics, rich reds (and pinks), delicately elongated silhouettes, lightly tailored outfits, cinched waistlines, perfectly balanced sharpness and softness, etc. Scully from The X-Files gets a wardrobe upgrade in Season 3; but it's not until Season 4 that the pieces begin to gel together organically.

When GA dyes her hair darker or red, the allure of her Romantic Essence comes to the fore without eclipsing her Ethereal Essence. When GA dyes her hair lighter or blonde, her Ethereal Essence shines brighter without erasing the influence of her Romantic Essence.

CONCLUSION

I'm done! Hope everyone has fun.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

#randomfashiontiger #GA #Kitchener Essences: Gillian Anderson #Kitchener Essence #fashion #meta #mine #Ellie-Jean Royden #Gabriella Arruda #John Kitchener

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liaromancewriter · 1 year

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Breaking News

Premise: Cassie interviews Ethan about a special project.

Book: Open Heart (post series) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Fluff. Words: 1,890

A/N: This fic was requested by @trappedinfanfiction from @creativepromptsforwriting Meet Cute list (prompt 27). Tagging for reblog to @creativepromptfills. I'm using @choicesflashfics week 27, prompt 3 (in bold). Submission for @aprilchallenge prompt "kiss"

Cassie Valentine stood at the back of the recording studio and watched a team of technicians assemble a makeshift set for her interview with Edenbrook’s Chief of Medicine. It had taken weeks of coaxing for the man to agree, and she would make every minute count.

While she waited to be called, she ran through the stack of notecards in her hand. The questions prepared weren’t complicated, but her subject was cagey. Getting her guest to open up and obtain usable footage would take all her skills.

“We’re ready for you now, Dr. Valentine.”

Cassie looked up at Amalia Kallis from Edenbrook’s communication department holding a lapel microphone and transmitter. The intern from last year was now a full-time member of the team and one of a handful of people Ethan didn’t object to working with.

Amalia helped Cassie put on the lapel microphone and adjusted the cable to the transmitter, which she clipped to the waistband of her skirt. She pulled on her blazer, hiding the wires below the thick fabric, and sound-checked the microphone until the audio-visual team gave the all-clear.

“Thanks so much for doing this, Dr. Valentine,” Amalia said. “Especially so last minute.”

“I’m happy to help,” Cassie said, smiling at the gratitude on the other woman’s face. “I know how hard it was to get Dr. Ramsey to agree.”

In her role as head of community engagement, Kyra Santana was supposed to interview Ethan about expanding the community clinic for the hospital’s social media channels and donor newsletter. But she’d sprained her ankle on the way to work this morning. Rather than postpone or cancel, she had begged Cassie to take her place.

The clinic was important to Ethan—it embodied Naveen’s mission—but he had no patience for the pomp and circumstance associated with promoting it. It was a knee-jerk reaction rather than nerves. Cassie knew Ethan wasn’t a novice when it came to media.

She followed Amalia to the set, consisting of two soft armchairs in front of an Edenbrook-branded backdrop. Cassie listened to the team’s instructions, adjusted her posture when they said the light was shading her face, and sent a silent prayer of thanks that she didn’t have to do this every day.

When the door to the studio swung inward, she wanted to laugh at the irritable expression on Ethan’s face.

Earlier this morning, they’d made a bet that he wouldn’t last a day without making a single snide comment. He had vehemently disagreed, citing his infamous self-control. Looks like she was about to win.

“Alright, let’s get this dog and pony show over with,” he said impatiently, his long strides stopping mid-step when he saw Cassie.

“I don’t know if I want to know the answer, but what are you doing?” he asked suspiciously, joining her on the set. “And where’s Kyra?”

“Long story, Dr. Ramsey,” Cassie replied, waving one hand dismissively. “Get mic’d up, grab a seat and save the questions for later. After all, you want to ‘get this over with,’ don’t you?”

She put the last in air quotes, her eyes swimming with laughter. To everyone’s surprise, Ethan chuckled instead.

“I was being an ass, wasn’t I?”

Cassie nodded, unable to control the smile curving her lips. “And it hasn’t even been,” she checked her wristwatch, “four hours. Better clear your schedule, Dr. Ramsey. You’re covering my shift at the community clinic tomorrow. And it’s a long one.”

He harrumphed at the glee in her voice and started to roll his eyes. He stopped when he noticed the other people in the room watching them, their faces a mix of curiosity, interest and surprise.

Poor Ethan, thought Cassie, not feeling sorry at all. His reputation as a severe and demanding chief would never be the same again.

Five minutes later, they were seated across from each other and ready to begin recording. Cassie closed her eyes, took a deep breath and counted to three. She still followed the advice given by a patient during her intern year. It helped center her and clarify her focus.

She started with some light questions, easing Ethan into the interview. The team might decide to edit those out later, but she wasn’t concerned about their process. Once she saw him begin to relax, she went for the substance.

“Dr. Ramsey, why should people care about Edenbrook’s community clinic? After all, Boston is home to almost fifty hospitals and community health centers. They have options.”

“Bostonians do have choices,” he began slowly. “Our city ranks first in hospital beds per capita and other such measures nationwide. We also have the lowest percentage of uninsured patients.”

He paused to reflect before continuing. “But that doesn’t mean everyone has access to affordable healthcare.” He emphasized the last point. “Our most vulnerable populations are disadvantaged because of the increasing corporatization of medicine, which can be at odds with a patient-centered healthcare system.”

Cassie’s brows furrowed at his answer. This was supposed to be a fluffy video to make donors feel good, but Ethan clearly wasn’t following the script. She caught Amalia’s panicked look over his shoulder as the young woman scanned the prepared speaking notes.

“Many of them can’t afford to take time off work to visit a doctor, provided they can find one,” he said, unconcerned about the havoc he was causing. “Non-emergent conditions become emergent with delay. This lands them in the emergency department, increasing wait times all around and resulting in higher treatment costs because a simple cut became infected and now requires specialist treatment.”

Cassie saw the challenge glittering in Ethan’s blue eyes and knew he’d done this on purpose. If this is where their illustrious chief wanted to take it, so be it.

“But hospitals need to make money in order to stay afloat,” Cassie countered. “We need funding to afford the best doctors and the most advanced HealthTech to better treat our patients. Are you saying that’s wrong?”

Ethan sighed. “Not wrong, but perhaps a narrow view of what medicine should be.” He steepled his fingers. “All the best diagnostic technology cannot replace an essential skill any physician should have. Listening and watching. Patients often don’t know or understand what’s relevant. Even the smallest detail can be the key to unlocking the right diagnosis.”

Cassie gripped the notecards tight to prevent herself from launching at Ethan and kissing his breath away. She loved how animated his face became when discussing putting patients first. His example had formed her own worldview and approach to medicine.

But she had a job to do. Deciding to take pity on Amalia, Cassie turned the conversation back to the main topic.

“How will Edenbrook’s community clinic expansion help those vulnerable populations?”

Ethan must have read the warning in her green eyes to stay on topic. He smirked before schooling his features into a neutral expression.

“Thanks to the generosity of our donors, the expanded community clinic will be able to treat more patients. We are also adding clinic hour rotations to the intern year of most of our residency programs. This will increase the number of doctors available and reduce wait times for patients so they don’t have to delay treatment.”

Cassie asked two more questions from the list given to her, sighing in relief when Ethan didn’t go off-script, and then thanked him before signing off. The camera’s red light blinked off, and the team gave the all-clear.

“You’re gonna be in so much trouble, babe,” Cassie teased, removing the transmitter and lapel mic and handing it to the technician.

Ethan shrugged. “The board knew what they were getting when they agreed to my appointment.”

He smiled when Amalia walked up to them. “Well? Do you think you have enough footage?”

“Absolutely, Dr. Ramsey,” Amalia confirmed. Her voice rose in excitement, and her eyes turned shrewd. “I think we can use the middle section to pitch stories to the national media, maybe even a talk show or two. Position you as a thought leader on how to put patient care at the heart of medicine.”

Cassie burst into laughter when Ethan groaned. He really should have known better. PR people were like a sponge when it came to telling stories. And he’d just gone off half-cocked on the meatiest one of them all.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea, Amalia,” Cassie piped in, winking at Ethan as he swiveled his head to stare at her in consternation. “Dr. Ramsey barely scratched the surface of this critical topic. There’s so much more that needs to be done. Especially if we’re going to lead the way on affordable healthcare in this country.”

Cassie realized she might have gone too far when she saw the calculating look in Ethan’s eyes.

“You’re absolutely right,” he said, nodding sagely.

Cassie immediately became suspicious of his conciliatory tone.

“Amalia, did you know that Dr. Valentine has been invited to serve on the governor’s special committee to study healthcare reform in our state?” he said.

He straightened his white coat and stepped back. “Between that and her work on the diagnostics team, she would make an excellent spokesperson for the hospital. You’ve already seen how comfortable she is in front of the camera. I’ll leave you two to discuss the details.”

Ethan exited the studio before Cassie had a chance to react. She realized her mouth was hanging open at being checkmated and promptly shut it.

Amalia watched her like it was Christmas morning and Cassie the present she’d been waiting for from Santa. Luckily, the shrill sound of her pager interrupted just in time, and Cassie promptly escaped.

Once outside, she marched down the hallway, muttering under her breath, eyes narrowing as she planned retaliation. She yelped when someone grabbed her hand and pulled her into a supply closet, the door slamming shut behind her.

Her eyes adjusted to the low light, and her frown turned into a smile when she saw who it was.

Ethan gripped her elbows and pushed her against the wall next to the door. His mouth covered hers in a fiery kiss, coaxing a response with his lips and tongue. Her arms circled his shoulders, and she pressed herself against him.

Lost in a haze of lust, her hands reached down to unbuckle his belt and undo the zipper. She cupped him through his pants and stroked up his length and back. Suddenly, he pulled back. She started to protest, but he placed one hand across her mouth.

He cocked his ear toward the door. Cassie heard muffled voices on the other side, likely Amalia and the technicians heading back to their workstations. They waited with bated breaths, sighing in relief as the team passed the supply closet door without incident, their conversation fading.

Cassie dropped her head on his chest, giggles breaking free at the near miss. He placed two fingers on her chin, lifting her face. And before she could say a word, he swooped down and kissed her laughter away.

“See you later, Dr. Valentine,” he whispered against her lips.

Cassie’s eyes snapped open at the smugness in his voice, followed by an arrogant chuckle as the door closed behind him.

Round one goes to you, Dr. Ramsey, thought Cassie as her competitiveness raised its head. But the next one would be hers. She wasn’t a Valentine for nothing.

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All Fics & Edits: @annfg8 @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @doriopenheart @genevievemd @headoverheelsforramsey @lucy-268 @jamespotterthefirst @jerzwriter @lady-calypso @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @socalwriterbee @takemyopenheart @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @hopelessromantic1352 @mrs-ramsey

#open heart #ethan ramsey #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction #open heart fanfics #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #choices fanfiction #writers on tumblr #ethan ramsey x mc #choices fanfics #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine #short story

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mcblingbrat · 2 years

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RL Bratz Doll Wardrobe

Like Jade, I have a unique and personal sense of style that aligns with current trends, sets me apart from other people and makes me a trendsetter. Fashion is one of the many forms of self-expression, and I use the low end, high end and vintage items that I own to do that.

Outerwear

Every fashionista owns a wide range of outerwear that sits in there closet for a considerable amount of time due to them not having the perfect ensemble, dress, jumpsuit, bag, accessories and shoes to go with it; and I’m one of those people.

When I manage to find the perfect clothing items, accessories and shoes for said outerwear, my firsthand or secondhand jackets and coats that are bold, feminine, glamorous and/or extravagant make their big debut.

Tops

Similar to Sasha, Yasmin, Jade and Cloe, my clothing, specifically my tops, have landed me in hot water due to them being quote unquote too revealing or attention grabbing.

My casual tops are usually form fitting and figure flattering and have details that are related to my likes, interests and personality (ex: cute slogan tees with sayings, an off the shoulder sweater that is shimmery and see through, a brightly colored tank top with ribbed lace up detailing, etc.).

My formal tops are also form fitting and figure flattering like me previously mentioned casual tops, but they make a statement that won’t be made again due to them being so unexpected yet so me (ex: a silver metal mesh top with a crystal sleeve, a denim and velour corset top, a wrap around star fishnet top, etc.).

Pants

As a petite woman, I have to find pants that are going to fit me perfectly and compliment my frame.

Once I find pants that fulfill those two mandatory requirements online or in stores, I proceed to purchase pants that should’ve made me realize that Aquarius was my chart ruler before I purchased my astrological portrait due to most of pants being the definition of outrageous, urban yet camp.

If I find pants that are plain but fit me perfectly and compliment my frame, I purchase them and have them altered to resemble my vision and sketch. Like the great Galleria Garibaldi, I take bits and pieces and put them together cause I’m a visionary and an artist.

Skirts

The skirts that I don are less outrageous and camp than my pants since I love to show off my legs in short skirts, but the colors, prints, embellishments, detailing and textures of the skirts that accommodate the jacket, top, jewelry, handbag and shoes make the outfit cohesive, which is what I strive for despite striving for various self related things when I put together an outfit for myself.

Formal Wear

My formal fashion moments are sporadic due to the pandemic and my busy schedule that consists of school and work, but when I am granted the opportunity to dress up for a formal event, I take that as an opportunity to unleash my softer and ethereal side with soft yet bright colors and whimsical imagery (ex: butterflies, cloud print, orchid print, floral embellishments, corset detailing, hoods, etc.).

Accessories

All libra women are the main characters in their lives and other peoples lives. As a libra woman who is a proud main character in my life and the lives of many others, diamonds are all over my body because it reflects who I am and lets people know that I am a shining and bright diamond. I also have an affinity for diamonds because they look great on me and I’m a proud maximalist that believes that any thing that’s understated has no place in my abundant life.

Handbags

I’m really particular when it comes to the bags that I purchase. They don’t have to be designer, but they have to be a high quality bag. I don’t want to wear a bag that everybody is wearing or obsessing over because I’m not worried about everybody and their minion like tendencies and I don’t want to purchase a bag with my hard earned money that’s going to fall apart. Bags should age like a fine wine, not curdle like expired milk.

When it comes to shape, color and detailing, I’m flexible since I’m a fashion chameleon, but I have a few exceptions (ex: a brown or beige bag (I don’t like colors and they wash me out), gold detailing (I’m cool toned and I always preferred silver) and faux leather bags (they leather peels and I’m all about the real.).

Shoes

My shoes are the final act of my outfits that close the show, and I always make sure to pick out show stopping shoes that’ll incite an encore from onlookers.

Despite being genuinely confident despite my short stature, I often find myself purchasing sneakers, boots, wedges and heels that make me appear taller than I actually am.

Lengthy shoes are a no-no. Tall girls look amazing in knee high shoes, whereas short girls look juvenile when they’re wearing knee high shoes, and I’m not trying to have people thinking that I’m a young girl playing dress up because I’m a grown woman.

Lastly, I'm open to most things when it comes to shoes, with exceptions (ex: pure white shoes (they get dirty easily and are going to be a pain to clean), crocs (first of all, ew. second of all, ew.), and converse (I LOVED me some Chuck Taylor's when I was a preteen in middle school and a teenager in high school, and still do to this day, but they don’t give me much support and my family forced me to let them go completely until they create shoes that’ll support my feet.).

#bratz #aesthetic #fashion #clothing #accessories #shoes #content #post #original #blog #blog post #content post #original post #brattober #birthday #birthday month

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robhorninginternalexile · 4 months

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Subjectivity is alienation

From this post by Jason Read, a quote from Marxist philosopher Franck Fischbach on alienation:

The reduction of human beings, by this abstraction, from natural and living beings to the state of ‘subjects’ as owners of a socially average labour power indicates at the same time the completion of their reduction to a radical state of impotence: for the individual to be conceived and to conceive of itself as a subject it is necessary that it see itself withdrawn and subtracted from the objective conditions of its natural activity; in other words, it is necessary that ‘the real conditions of living labour’ (the material worked on, the instruments of labour and the means of subsistence which ‘fan the flames of the power of living labour’) become ‘autonomous and alien existences’

I added the bold emphasis. This line of thought tracks with the idea that "becoming a self" or "finding yourself" or "expressing one's individuality" is an intrinsically alienating process, and not only because it is a form of alienated labor under the conditions of social media, etc. It is also because the "subject" is predicated on a false autonomy, as though it was undetermined or self-determining rather than embedded in specific objective conditions.

"Becoming subject," Fischback suggests, means becoming abstract: "possessors of a perfectly abstract capacity to work—individual agents of a purely subjective power of labor and constrained to sell its use to another."

Read likens this to Stiegler's idea of a "proletarianized" consumer. As Read explains, "if proletarianisation is the loss of skills, talents, and knowledge until the worker becomes simply interchangeable labour power, then the broader proletarianisation of daily life is the loss of skills, knowledge, and memory until the individual becomes simply purchasing power."

From that perspective, "becoming subject" means a condition in which one can have experiences only by buying them.

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kariachi · 9 months

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The thing, with Gwen's actions in Cooper's premiere- I can't remember the title right now and I'm not looking it up- is that she is choosing to be as rough with Kevin as she is. The show makes it clear that she doesn't have to be hitting him as hard as she is, but she's doing it anyway because Kevin's been a teasing little shit all episode and Gwen believes that that is good enough reason to be use physical violence against him, repeatedly. The show could have used Kevin's role in the plan as a narrative punishment for his behavior and it would have been annoying but fine, but they had to make it clear that this was an interpersonal matter. They could have had her serious, they could have had her apologizing, but instead they have her smiling and happy and blatantly taking this opportunity to punish Kevin for displeasing her. The first episode these two have together as a couple and it entails Kevin being his normal self and Gwen responding with violence. And this isn't supposed to be a red flag.

And I'm thinking about it now and you can see Gwen getting bolder with this shit? Like, she pulls this once each series (off the top of my head) and each time she's more obvious with it? Like, here she's behind the boys, they can't see her expression, it's serious when they can see it, she lies about how hard she has to hit Kevin. In the Pandor episode she's upfront with dropping Kevin out of the air, and doesn't try to pretend she's sorry, but she does lie and say it was an accident, as unconvincing and without any real attempt to be convincing as it is. Then you get to Showdown, where she just straight shoves Kevin and Ben into freefall in front of witnesses without a single word.

Which makes sense, of course, in character, she would get bolder with that shit when she never gets consequences for it. The closest there are to any for her behavior is in the Pandor episode, where Kevin gets kidnapped and tricked into releasing Pandor who attacks her and threatens the area. But even then, the fact that this whole chunk of plot was prompted by her being using violence against Kevin again doesn't come up, and even the lesser issue she apologizes for is brushed aside with Kevin pointing out that she never holds shit against him- which is just canonically untrue. The point being, Gwen never actually has any consequences to her actions hit her. Shit is always brushed off, or in the cases where she's accidentally doing harm the blame is pushed elsewhere (looking at you In Charms Way and fuckers stating that Kevin should have read Gwen's mind apparently and known what she was up to). Even when it's people who aren't Kevin, like her threatening Nocturne- which surely didn't contribute to her developing Stockholm Syndrome, no way would one of the heroes threatening to, quote, "peel [her] like a grape" immediately after a traumatic experience have led to issues- things are just brushed aside.

So yeah, of course she gets more bold with this shit. Any sense that maybe there's something wrong with her actions and she should obscure or hide them (but not not engage in them, apparently) would have been repeatedly undercut by the lack of consequences, and by her being absolved of any guilt in shit with a quickness. The people in she and Kevin's life enable this shit by seemingly just rolling with it all and taking her side. Gwen of AF probably wouldn't have shoved Ben and Kevin into freefall, and definitely not with Rook watching, but by OV she's learned there's no consequences. And from what we're shown that remains the case.

Worse, given what we're shown and that we're shown it consistently, it's more than likely that she pulls similar, if likely smaller scale, shit in their day-to-day life. I've said before, somebody who'll shove their loved ones into freefall in front of witnesses like it's normal is not somebody who engages in healthy relationship patterns behind closed doors.

Personally I like to think that we've seen the limit of what she's willing to pull, because despite what people think I do like Gwen I wouldn't be so pissy about this shit if I didn't, but you could very much use this as an argument that she's going to get worse before she gets better. And I do believe that she could move off this path, but first she would have to get hit with consequences, proper consequences that hit her and aren't just shooed aside by those around her. Because she is a good person- in fact I think in-character the idea that what a Good Person does can't possible be That Bad plays a role in a lot of things from her behavior here and how people react to it to Ben getting away with a some of the shit he does, and that out-of-character it's why you get some fans who'll bend over backwards to explain how nothing they've done wrong was actually them doing wrong- but I think it's likely she's got herself convinced she's not doing anything wrong, with enabling forces on all sides, and would need a solid kick in the pants to realize that she's being an asshole.

She doesn't need to be like this, she didn't need to be like this. But the writers decided this was the person they wanted her to be, and that they didn't want us thinking twice about it or judging her based on her own actions. Same thing happened with Ben. It's poor characterwork in conjunction to story, a tale as old as longform stories.

Just had to go fuck up a perfectly good female lead with their own bullshit and bad humor.

#ben 10 analysis #this wasn't supposed to end up like this but the brain kept braining

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alchemylight · 9 months

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Cosmic Clash: Exploring the Leo New Moon Square Uranus in Taurus

A celestial spectacle is about to unfold in the heavens, as the Leo New Moon forms a challenging square aspect with Uranus in Taurus. This cosmic clash promises a burst of intense energy that will undoubtedly reverberate through our lives, inviting us to embrace change, innovation, and self-expression like never before.

The Leo New Moon: Leo, a fire sign ruled by the Sun, is known for its boldness, creativity, and desire for recognition. When the Moon enters this regal sign, it encourages us to ignite our inner passions, shine our authentic light, and exude self-confidence. This New Moon phase marks the start of a fresh lunar cycle, offering a canvas on which we can paint our intentions and dreams.

Uranus in Taurus: Meanwhile, Uranus, the planet of unpredictability and revolution, has been shaking up the grounding sign of Taurus for some time now. Taurus governs material possessions, stability, and values. Under Uranus' influence, these aspects experience sudden shifts and innovative breakthroughs, urging us to redefine our relationship with the material world and embrace new ways of securing our foundations.

The Square Aspect: The square aspect between the Leo New Moon and Uranus in Taurus creates a tension that demands our attention. Squares are known for their potential to catalyze growth through challenge. In this case, the vivacious energy of Leo clashes with Uranus' impulse for change. The result is an electrifying blend of fiery determination and revolutionary breakthroughs, pushing us to bridge the gap between individual expression and stability.

Astrological Implications: The Leo New Moon square Uranus in Taurus carries profound implications for each zodiac sign. It underscores the importance of embracing our unique talents and creative endeavors while redefining our approach to stability and security. This celestial alignment might trigger unexpected events that force us out of our comfort zones, compelling us to let go of old patterns and beliefs that hinder our progress.

Meditation and Ritual Recommendations:

To make the most of this potent astrological configuration, consider engaging in meditation and ritual practices that resonate with the Leo New Moon square Uranus in Taurus:

- Dynamic Self-Expression Meditation: Find a quiet space and sit or lie down comfortably. Close your eyes and take deep, grounding breaths. As you breathe, visualize a golden light radiating from your heart, representing your unique talents and passions. Envision this light expanding with each inhale, filling your entire being. As you exhale, imagine it reaching out into the world, fearlessly expressing your authentic self. Repeat empowering affirmations such as "I embrace my creative power" or "I am open to change and growth."

- Transformational Release Ritual: Gather a white candle, a piece of paper, and a pen. Write down any fears, limitations, or old habits that are hindering your progress. As you write, recognize their hold on you. Light the candle and place the paper in a fire-safe dish. Watch the flame as it consumes the paper, visualizing these obstacles turning to ashes. With each crackling sound, imagine the energy of Leo's fire and Uranus' innovation transmuting these challenges into opportunities for growth.

- Visionary Intentions Collage: Collect magazines, images, and quotes that resonate with your desires and intentions for the upcoming lunar cycle. Assemble them on a poster board to create a collage that captures the essence of your aspirations. Include representations of your creative dreams and your willingness to adapt to change. Display your collage where you'll see it daily, allowing it to inspire and guide your actions.

Final Thoughts: The Leo New Moon square Uranus in Taurus challenges us to embrace our individuality, express our creativity boldly, and adapt to the winds of change with resilience. Through meditation and ritual, we can harmonize these seemingly opposing energies and channel them into transformational growth. As the cosmic clash unfolds, may you find the courage to step into your true essence and embark on a journey of innovation and self-discovery.

#astrology #leo new moon #leo new moon 2023

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chryzuree · 10 months

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here today (gone tomorrow)

ALT TITLE: how many more mistakes like this?

AUTHOR’S NOTE: juno said, and i quote, “it’s good, queen”, so here’s hoping it’s actually good enough to post 🫶🏻

———

The Fate reunited with his Star centuries after he had driven her away.

It was not by chance, this meeting of theirs. Nor was it by choice, though one would quickly assume it to be so once the first option was deemed out of the question.

But the truth was that their convergence was out of necessity, and no matter how much they tried to brace themselves against it, the remnants of their tender, childlike insides ached with familiar unhealed pains. Never had they attempted to unknot the sparking tangle of nerves left by their childhood; instead, they’d built walls around their youth in tight, concentric circles, higher and higher, until nobody that hadn’t known them in the before could get through.

It was deep in the night, in a familiar forest clearing aged with new growths, with naught but a few elderly Stars to observe over this pre-destined meeting.

The Fate was not known for fidgeting. Rather, he boasted a keen self-control, hidden carefully under a veneer of careless smiles and cultivated wickedness. Any one of his past lovers would have been certain to attest to his rotted heart—if one were to dig up their graves.

And yet, as he awaited his Star, he stared into blackness with a pale, haunted countenance that looked unlike any expression seen upon him in hundreds of years. Where an apple normally rested in his hand—perhaps even tossed and spun carelessly, if he was bored enough—he instead worried over an old woven bracelet. On occasion, he lifted it to his mouth and, with furrowed brow, would shutter his eyes as though praying over a rosary.

Then his eyes would open again and he would resume peering anxiously into the darkness.

For hours, he remained alone, and he remained clueless of his gathering audience overhead.

It was only when the brightest Star finally joined the onlookers that his Star—only half, in all honesty, but he’d crowned her in his mind out of his silent, personal worship of her—finally stepped into their clearing.

The bracelet had been at his lips when he opened his eyes to see her standing there.

With breath he did not need, he gasped into the weave of her bracelet. It soaked it into its old pattern, along with all the wishes and regrets he’d spoken into it after all those years.

Though the moon lit not the sky, the Star-girl gleamed with her own light. Her hair glittered like the sun over snowfall, with secret iridescence. Her tentative smile shone white, her sharpened canines like a vampire’s bite. Her eyes looked like twin flames in the dark.

She was lovelier than he remembered, and kinder still than he could’ve ever hoped.

“Hello,” she said, almost bashfully. She swept a curl behind her ear.

He said nothing, knowing himself incapable of it. He only stared.

The curve of her smile twisted crookedly. The night was too dark, yet he knew intuitively—like he always did—that her freckled cheeks had flushed, just so.

“It’s been a while,” she continued, clasping her hands in the folds of her skirt.

She looked skyward as she spoke.

That break of eye contact allowed his throat to loosen, and the Fate desperately replied, “I missed you.”

He could not see her expression, but for the hint of her lips. Always, always her lips.

They still smiled, but in a less shy bend. Her white hair rippled in a gentle breeze. Her skirt did not follow suit.

Then she lowered her gaze to him once more.

“I missed you too,” she replied, subdued. With careful eyes, she studied the clearing, and quietly added, “Why are we here?”

He bit his lip.

His heart thudded once, painfully, in his chest, spurred into motion by only the one that had made him with inexperienced, loving hands.

She noticed his silence with a drop of her lips. Her eyes studied him, brighter than before. He wished that she would not. His shame was on bold display, and she’d always been a quick study.

She approached him, the hem of her skirt whispering over the forest floor when it should’ve caught on broken sticks and dead leaves.

Rooted to the spot, he could do nothing but yearn for her and pray her away in equal, wretched measure.

Soon, she stood in front of him, so close that, for a moment, he was sure that it must’ve been a dream.

“You did not reach out to me of your own free will,” she said softly, and then she reached forward and cupped his cheek in her soft palm.

He stiffened at her touch. Too many years had passed; he’d since grown unaccustomed to the nettle sting of her skin meeting his.

It took him a moment, but he allowed himself to melt into it. His eyes fluttered shut.

“No,” he agreed.

“No,” she repeated back at him. “I thought not. You’re much too proud for that. Not even these past centuries could have eroded that from you.”

He moved deeper into her hand. It was an unexpected balm, this knowing insight into him. How comforting, he thought, to have an entire being outside of himself know him so well, and still feel so compassionately.

“Yes,” he said softly.

So bereft of his Star’s touch was the Fate that he wrapped his arms about her waist, only half aware of his actions. Her presence in his arms acted as a drug, irresistible, and he drew her closer to him, until her frame folded nicely against his.

Gently, her thumb traced the curve of his cheek. To any other, the rings upon her fingers would’ve been abrasive—but to the Fate, the cold metal rasping over his cheekbone was a homecoming he’d craved for too many years to count.

“You didn’t want this meeting to happen,” his Star murmured, “did you?”

To anyone else, he would’ve lied—and with an angelically cruel grin, complete with dimples more cutting than a dagger.

But being near her had done away with any such pretenses. Without his express permission, all those protective walls around his boyish self crumbled to dust.

“No,” he breathed into her skin. He pressed his eyes shut tighter, until colors sparked across the blackness.

He wished this reunion could be only this: His Star in his arms again, and he in hers. A Fate reduced to a boy, with the touch of a Star reduced to a girl on his skin, and they could reminisce of a simpler time.

Her hand slid to the nape of his neck, a trail of electricity ghosting behind her touch. She cradled him closer, and his breathing caught in his throat.

“Because this is a trap,” she whispered hypnotically.

He didn’t wish to answer. Yet—undiluted by her influence—he found himself compelled to confess his unwilling collusion in this plot.

“Yes,” he choked out. “Yes.” He paused only to wet his lips. “You must run.”

He opened his eyes—now wet with tears much unlike the tears of blood he normally shed—to find his Star smiling at him still.

His heart dipped low.

“There’s no escaping for me now.” She played with his hair, calm in a way he could not fathom.

His throat began to tighten once more. What she said was correct, to the core. But he dearly wished that was not so.

“You can still run,” he insisted through numb lips, his voice fragile.

Her eyes were tender as she shook her head.

“No.” Her other hand braced against his hip. She wove her fingers deeper into his hair. “I’d much rather spend these last few moments with you.”

Every part of his body ached for precisely that. He could hear his own blood—as if it had a voice, and as if in perfect unison with hers—somberly, sadly whisper, Especially since we’ve been apart for all this time.

Another tear spilled from his eye. He tried to blink the others back.

“I don’t want to see you captive,” he pleaded.

Yet he did not release his embrace around her.

Humming, her eyes drifted shut. Her smile faded, just slightly. A tiny line furrowed her brow.

“We don’t have much time, do we?” she mumbled.

No, they did not. The Fate had done his part well already—how much time had passed now? When he tallied it all up…

Foreboding stabbed him straight through.

“Princess—”

She opened her eyes again.

The Fate found himself speechless.

No matter how frequently he’d turned his memory of her over in his mind, he never could’ve kept all the details of her in his mind. He’d focused too much on the shape of her lips, or on the exact scattering of her freckles, or on the faint scar that marked across her face with a slight shimmer. But the exact shade of her eyes had always eluded him.

And they were breathtaking, with her pale gold pupils and the matching gold ring etched around the rose hue of her irises. Silver eyelashes framed them, long and feathery.

Tears glittered in them.

“I will not be taken,” she whispered. “For this, know that I’m sorry. And know that we will meet again.”

Despite the centuries apart, she knew him innately. And despite the centuries spent in this lifetime, the other Star spectators knew precisely the moment to watch, as they had watched all the moments before.

The hand she’d set on his hip trailed to his leather belt, then to the small, unassuming sheath he kept there. The hilt of his dagger filled her hand with cold metal and raised jewels.

She did not know the whole story of the Fate’s dagger. It had merely been a pretty thing he’d kept on his desk when she’d left. She didn’t know of the deaths on this dagger, nor his marriage, nor its following annulment. She didn’t know of the ruin that had buried itself into its metal.

But she knew it would do the job. She was not like the Fate— she had never become an immortal, nor had fallen to mortality again. She had been as she always was—a young, pretty thing, and so deathly fragile.

And so, with the right angle, the dagger slid into her ribs with ease. And with great agony, it pierced her heart.

The Star gasped out a painful breath on instinct, then grit her teeth. But she couldn’t stop the cough that rattled her body in the Fate’s arms. Blood seeped around her teeth.

The world collapsed out from under the Fate’s feet.

For the first time in hundreds of years, the blood in his ears roared.

“No,” he said, his voice small.

The Star’s knees grew weak. Only his arms kept her upright.

She laughed wetly and winced.

“No,” he repeated.

The dagger fell from her weakened fingers, her golden blood glinting along the blade. She sagged against the Fate.

“No.”

The Fate sank to his knees, the Star cradled in his arms. As he did, the unnatural, sweet tang of her blood enveloped him.

She coughed once again and cried out in pain. Blood trickled from her mouth.

Tears spilled down his face, unchecked.

“No,” he said again. “No, Chryseis, no.”

Her eyes grew glassy.

“It… never stops hurting,” she choked out around the blood. Her brows pinched together. Her eyes shuttered.

Her face paled more and more by the second, he realized with no small horror.

“Don’t close your eyes,” the Fate begged, terrified, even though he knew she was dying anyway. A part of him pulsed with her, and grew weaker and weaker with each second.

Her brows relaxed. A bloody grimace served as her smile.

“Ever demanding… to the end.”

“Open them,” he demanded pointedly.

Her hand reached clumsily, sightlessly for his face. Blood dripped from it, and it smeared across his face as she cupped it once more. The Fate could not have denied her touch, even if he’d wished for it.

“I… can’t… I’m sorry.”

The Fate sobbed, furious, heartbroken. “What have you done?”

Her smile looked marginally more real. “Silly question.”

“Don’t joke.” He lowered his face to hears. Tears rained over her freckled cheeks. “We were supposed to have more time to talk. I wanted to know what your life had been like before. In between. After. Any of it.”

The Star’s grip loosened. Her fingertips chilled the Fate’s skin.

She slipped further away.

The Fate wished to scream at the injustice of it, of the trap, of what he’d done to her.

“I wasn’t… alone,” she breathed through colorless lips. “Not then… and not now.” A thick, heavy tear of gold seeped through her silver eyelashes. “Know this… and don’t cry.”

“Please,” he sobbed.

The Star tried to speak again, but coughed. Spittle colored with blood splashed over his shirtfront.

He couldn’t bring himself to care. His shirt was already stained—the same stain that would forever mar his dagger.

“Stay,” he whispered to the Star.

But she did not answer him.

—

The boy had been walking silently alongside the silver-haired woman, until she said those final words.

“This is a horrible story,” the boy blurted. His small hand tightened on hers, even though he was more than a little scared of her.

His storyteller paused. With a slight tilt of her head, she lowered her frightening, inhuman gaze to him. The silver of her eyes flashed almost white.

The boy wanted to jolt back, but he instead tensed his jaw in response, defiant.

She laughed without a smile, and the storyteller replied, “But a true one. One that needed to be heard.”

The boy hesitated. His golden brow crumpled.

“But why tell me?” he asked, puzzled.

His storyteller smiled in the memory of amusement. Her poison-red lips looked gruesome.

The boy understood now why she laughed without that curve of her lips.

She leaned her whole body down to him, her silver hair falling over his head like a show’s curtain. His heart leapt into his throat, beating much too quick.

So distracted was he by the silver flurry of her hair that he didn’t see her smile disappear. By the time his eyes had refocused, her lips were at the shell of his ear.

“So you don’t make the same mistake again,” she hissed in their tiny enclave hidden from the eyes of the other Stars.

The boy froze. “What?”

She leaned back to peer at his pale face, his confused blue eyes. Here he was—a boy of only seven, with golden hair still messy from being awoken in the middle of the night and spirited away.

The storyteller smiled her gruesome smile once more.

The boy blinked furiously. He tried to look away.

“Oh, no. How rarely I get to see you like this,” she cooed. She reached forward and set her sharp silver nails on the sensitive underside of the boy’s jaw, pushing his gaze up to meet hers. She felt his throat work as he swallowed anxiously. “You take much longer than the other two to become innocent again. I must enjoy it whenever I can. Don’t you agree, my little Prince of Hearts?”

The boy’s face became bloodless. “No, I’m not.” But not even he sounded convinced.

“Yes,” agreed the storyteller, her amusement growing more. “For now, you indeed are not. Now hush. We are almost there.”

Then the boy’s eyes grew heavy, though he could not say why.

And when he opened them again, it was on the stoop of a gambling den, and the silver-eyed, silver-haired storyteller was naught but a dream.

#s.chrysijacks #w.mine #au.childhood fates #of a sort.. more of a hint of how jacks wound up at the gambling den before chrysi :))#official eris sighting btw. i think the last time i wrote something w her in it was 2018 on my oc blog

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