Everyday I’m reminded of the beauty in the LGBTQ community.

I see it in the tear streaked faces of two young girls in the audience. Their hair is wild and their eyes electric and they kiss. They kiss with the unbridled syrup sweet passion you can only taste when you are young and in love.

I see it in the wrinkled hands of a man fastening a jacket he designed himself. He laughs and tells me if I care to hear it, he’ll tell me about the years he spent in the Lower East Side designing clothes for drag queens. The hours he’d lay on the floor and laugh while they sang and sauntered and how they looked 20 feet tall like gods among men towering in their heels through the wooden apartment floors. How they’d tackle every stair of a 6 floor walk up apartment in their stilettos and strip off the jackets he’d make them; leaving them safe on an arm chair.

I hear it on the dance floor, and the radio. Beats and movements curated and designed and popularized by gay clubs across the world, many like Pulse, in Florida. When the DJs knew they’d struck a hit once the bodies gyrated, and sweat, and interlocked across the floor.

I feel it in the swing of the songs that dominate my favorite playlists, all of them in some way spun from the spider web of the Blues; the music genre that laid the foundation for modern rock, hip hop, and pop. Lady lovin’ Ma Rainey sang the sorrows of her heart with such soul that moved across sound waves for generations since.

I see it in the smile of a young trans woman in the mirror of a department store on Melrose Ave. She runs her hands along the fabric of her dress and gives a half hearted twirl. Her friends cheer and whistle and laugh and she picks up speed. Her skirt goes round and round and she spins with vigor and with intention. She lands dizzy and stumbling in the lap of her friend and tells the salesperson with a grin “I’ll take it!”

I read it in the lines of my favorite authors. Men and women who knew pain unlike any other. Who felt the lightning strike through their bodies every night they slept away from their lovers. How it infiltrated to their fingertips and formed words and poems no one could birth without knowing the pain of being split in two. Ripped apart like thick alabaster pages and bleeding like ink from a quill.

I feel it to my core in memories of the first time I kissed a girl. It trembles in my nervous lips. I see it in her shiny red hair and it burst forth from every freckle across her nose. I smell it in the humid air fogging up the windows of a cabin in the woods. And it rustles through our soft breath shimmering through the kind of quiet you can only catch in the forest.

And so I shout it. As loud as I can. In my lyrics. In my art. In a rainbow flag waving across thousands of pixels across my stage. I shout it in the faces of the oppressors and I shout it hand in hand with both my beautiful young fans, and the queer folk that I look up to everyday.

Our beauty is in every corner of the world. In the fabric of our past. In the glimmer of our vibrant future. We are beautiful. And I am so in love with everything you are and everything you have ever been. This is my love letter to you.

- Halsey’s love letter to the LGBTQ community

Originally posted by marveltho

Steve x Young!Reader / Avengers x Young!Reader

Alarms blared through the Avengers building, Tony was the first to react, by simply giving n accusing glare to the figure that had dived behind the huge statue just outside the living room.

“This is the tenth time in the last two weeks you’ve broken in here, I’m pretty sure you’re living in the basement.” Tony smirked when you popped out from the hiding place.

“You put in new alarms.” You grumbled which made him laugh.

“Well every time you break in we fix the spot where you get through.” Tony explained.

“Hey (Y/N), how’d you get in this time?” Natasha asked curiously, tossing you a gadget which you immediately dropped to sit on the floor and inspect.

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Never Again. Again.

Or the second coming of Ed Jerse. Post IWTB. Pre-Revival. 

You can blame @dangerscully @defnotmeyo @startwreck @sunflowerseedsandscience and the rest of the rewatch reprobates for this. It’s definitely mature, tw: for rough sex and extreme angst. No beta and my apologies. In advance.

Scully hadn’t noticed him at first. She’d been too busy holding it together, painting on a neutral mask that identified her neither as the terrified newcomer or someone who truly needed to be in this dingy hall. She’d avoided eye contact, made crap coffee at a table whose uprightness was only slightly more precarious than her own, and found a seat without incident. She could do this, she reasoned, keeping her shoulders square like this whole scenario wasn’t a last, desperate resort. The therapist that the hospital had forced her to see after the incident had insisted she try group therapy. The words had been kind, logical even. “Your insistence upon isolating and internalising your unhappiness is hindering any sort of progress”, but Scully knows that her personal brand of tragedy goes far beyond what any other person, let alone group of people, could understand.

 After all, that’s why Mulder won’t -


She doesn’t want to think about him now. She needs FBI distance to survive this hour of shared human misery. Her fingers crimp the cup and the coffee inside swells up and subsides along with the averted crisis, taking with it the noise in the room as introductions begin.

 Dana. She says quietly. These people don’t need Scully. That’s all she says as she scans the circle of faces impassively and selects an area of mottled wall to drown out the sympathy she can’t stand to see. She plans to offer no more. She plans to sit, to count out her hour, in breaths and heartbeats and then go back to the darkness of their home where at least she can hide from it all.

 But there’s movement on the edge of her vision. A pale crescent of anonymous face leaning in, again and again, until not looking becomes harder than just a glance and for the first time in her life Scully sees a ghost.

 Under the fluorescent striplights his face is flat and wraithlike and his eyes are hollow. Maybe this was always how he looked in the light, but Scully had only known him in shadow, in the flickering sin of a neon sign, in the stark white lines street light cast on tangled sheets. By firelight.

 “I’m Ed. Jerse,” he says. To the whole group but really just to her and his voice is a nightmare that burns through three years of numbness to coil in her belly.

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I’ve decided to hop onto the bandwagon and make a mayor ref!! 

♡ Mayor Citrine ♡

  • Loves plants!! She owns a plant shop and cares v much for her flowers!
  • Her town is her garden, she loves planting trees and bushes.
  • She likes to plant mushrooms and clovers everywhere.
  • Very neat, makes sure everything inside and outside is organized!
  • Her best friends are Stella and Baabara! She loves to read with them.
  • Likes to wear sweaters/cardigans and skirts!
  • She’s an early bird. Loves doing house/yard work between 5-6 a.m.
  • Likes to visit her twin sister’s boutique!!
  • Very kind mayor! She does many favors for everyone and makes sure Isabelle gets many breaks as she deserves. She loves all of her villagers and makes sure they’re happy and comfortable in her town of Nodrya! 

♡ Appearance ♡

  • Lottie’s bun - plays with her hair constantly, messy bun, undershave
  • Round glasses
  • Denim skirt 
  • Freckles! She’s always out in the sun! 
  • Birthmark on forehead - her twin has one on her chin! 
  • White socks + Brown pumps
Fic: The Fall from Grace

part 6 in my Heartlines AU

Other parts can be found here

This chapter is a short one. Let me know what you think :-)


He lowered Claire to the ground and looked speculatively at his uninvited visitor.

“What the hell are ye doing in my house, Geneva?” His voice was low but the anger was clear.

Geneva examined her nails casually for a moment, for looking up at Jamie.

“Oh you know, when you get a phone call from a friend to tell you your husband is fucking some whore against a front door in Glasgow, it tends to raise some questions”

“What are you talking about Geneva? Your husband? I’m no your husband. I’ve not been your husband for three years and let’s face it, I wasna your husband for a long time before that either” Jamie’s voice was raised slightly now, The sheer incredulity of his ex wife stood in his living room, apparently having let herself in and accusing him of infidelity.

Geneva chose to ignore this point of order.

“Is this her?” she rounded on Claire, the appearance of nonchalant composure starting to slip “rather plain, isn’t she? I mean that hair” She spat out the last word, whilst reaching up to smooth her own gleaming chestnut locks.

“Geneva, I will no discuss this with ye. I owe ye nothing and you owe me nothing in return. I want you to leave now Geneva. I want you to leave and no come back. I want you to delete my number from your phone. I want ye to forget where I live. Hell, I want you to forget you even know me.” Jamie’s anger was roused, in part from protectiveness of Claire and in part absolute outrage at situation he currently found himself in . “I don’t know were you always this crazy, but you clearly are now. Get out of my sight.”

He moved towards the door and held it wide for her. She glared at him.

“No.” she yelled, stamping her feet. “No, no, no, no. This is not how this is supposed to happen. You are not supposed to move on. You are meant to come back to your senses and come back to me” She pointed her finger at him in accusation.

“Geneva,” he said with a sigh “you don’t want me. I ken ya are a proud woman and your pride was hurt when we split and I ken that’s what keeps you calling and turning up. But the time has come to swallow that pride. I didna make you happy. You didna make me happy. You’re man now, David? He makes ya happy.  Claire, Claire makes me happy” His voice softened and he looked over at Claire who was looking at him, eyes soft and warm. The moment went on a fraction too long for Geneva’s liking and she let out a banshee shriek before launching a large soap stone paperweight in Jamie’s general direction. Jamie dodged the missile and it landed on the floor with a thud after dislodging a large piece of plaster from the wall where Jamie’s head had just been. She skirted round the room looking for something else to throw. Jamie glanced around looking for a safe defensive position.

“STOP IT” the voice was loud and clear and held authority. Claire was stood now directly in front of Geneva, her hands on her hips. Geneva froze looking at Claire. “Geneva” she said calmly, “I think you should leave. I understand you feel hurt, but you should leave before you do anything you regret” Jamie thought there was a certain irony to that statement given that Geneva had broken into his house, accused him of adultery and tried to kill him with a paperweight. He said nothing however.

Geneva flared her nostrils and exhaled heavily. “Oh you think, I’m just going to give him to you, do you…”

Claire cut her off before she could go any further. “He’s not your property and he’s not mine. You can’t give him and I can’t ‘take’ him from you. Now I really think you should go” Claire picked up Geneva’s bag and jacket from where they lay across an arm chair and held them out to her. After a moment she reached out and took them. She breathed heavily for a moment and then with a flip of shiny chestnut hair, pushed past Claire out into the hallway. A second later the front door slammed, followed by the gate. They stood for a moment in complete silence, hardly even breathing. Jamie was trying to decide where to start in his apologies when Claire started to laugh. It started as  giggle and in moments was a fully blown belly laugh. Jamie joined in as Claire slide down the wall to the ground clutching her sides.

“Does, does that happen often?” She managed to choke out between gales of hysterical laughter.

“No, no” Jamie attempted to reassure her. “Only once before, but she got me with the paperweight that time.”

He crossed the room to where Claire sat trying and failing to regain her composure. He held out a hand to her. “Do you still want to have dinner with me, Claire?” He voice was calm now and held a hint of uncertainty “would you prefer it if I just took you home?”

“No, Jamie. I would love to have dinner still” She reached her hand out to him so that he could help her up and as he did so she pulled him close. “She leaned up and spoke quietly into his ears as she wrapped her arms around him. “I meant it when I told her you weren’t mine. But I want you to be.” He cupped her face in his hands and searched her face. In it he saw his own thoughts and feelings mirrored back at him. The feeling that he had, in this woman met the other half of his soul had been a constant since the moment that he had first laid eyes upon her, but now he truly got the sense that she felt the same. He tucked her hair back behind her ears and kissed her hard.

“And I want you to be mine, Mo Neighan donn. I am yours body and soul and have been since the moment I spilled whiskey down your pink dress.”

Dinner was light hearted and relaxed. The chatted about music that they liked and films that they had seen. They talked of places they had visited and places they still wanted to go. Claire had Jamie in stitches as she told him the story of how she had fallen off a camel in the middle of the Sahara whilst trekking with the Toureg to get to Uncle Lamb’s dig. Claire laughed heartily as Jamie recounted his adventures in Paris during his placement year. “This is what happiness is “ He thought to himself as Claire recounted yet another of her seemingly inexhaustible anecdotes from her teenage years travelling the great archaeological sites of the world with Uncle Lamb. “This is what it is to be with someone who completes you”

They cleared plates together and loaded the dishwasher, both finding an absurd amount of pleasure in even these mundane domestic tasks.

Claire looked at her watch.

“Do you want me to take you home now, Claire?” he asked quietly “I ken you’ve likely a busy day tomorrow”

“Let me stay, Jamie” her voice was almost a whisper. She looked at him, her jaw taut with tension and nerves.

“I’d like that verra much, Sassenach” came his soft reply. He took the cloth she had been holding from her and placed it on the counter.

“Come then, Sassenach. Let’s go to bed”


Part 1-

The ringing in your ears was loud. You don’t know if was because of the scream Sasha let out next to you or the fact your thoughts were screaming so loud for you to do something that you couldn’t process it but all the thoughts stop when you look over to Daryl. You knew that look, after being with him for the past two years you had only seen it a hand full of times but you knew it. 

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American Tattoo

summary: steve and bucky run a tattoo shop together in brooklyn. y/n, a friend of steve’s, decides to get inked. only bucky is present at the shop and he’s about to close it for the night. 

pairing: bucky x reader

word count: 4.7k+

requested: no

warnings: alternate universe, oral sex, unprotected sex, choking, bit of dirty talk, tattooing (so needles basically), a bit of rudeness, smoking, lowkey public sex. 

a/n: the guy who gave me my bucky tattoo also gave me a tattoo artist kink so enjoy

request things here and let me know what you think.

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causing trouble | alfie solomons

i got a couple anons who wanted a reader who was deaf and i kinda combined them?

Tommy furrowed his brow and lifted his head as he realised the sound he heard coming down the corridor was laughter. As he was led closer to the door the laughter got louder, and he couldn’t help but crack a little smile at the sound. Whoever they were they were truly enjoying themselves.

The housekeeper knocked lightly on the door as she pushed it open, leading Tommy in behind her. Alfie was sat at his chair, a woman on his lap, with her back to him. He was moving his hands around, face dancing as he spoke, and at one especially animated point the woman burst out laughing again, snorting as she dropped her head to his shoulder.

Alfie smiled, tucking his hand in to her hair and turning to kiss her ear. He sniffed as he turned back and leant forward, bringing his hand down her spine as he lifted them to sitting. She leant back as well, and with a nod from Alfie turned. There was a little gasp before she threw herself up, fixing her skirt as she grabbed at the bottle on the desk and tucked it away in a drawer. She slammed it back with her hip, crossing her arms over her chest and desperately avoiding Alfie’s stare.

He was smiling softly, watching her every move and she shook her head at him, still refusing to meet his eyes. After a few seconds she closed her eyes, tucked her lips between her teeth, as though she was trying to hold in the laughter, and then she broke down. Her fingers came to cover her mouth, trailing over her chin as she tucked her tongue into her cheek and coughed to contain herself.

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UK folk, PLEASE vote labour

Quick run down as to why:

-the nhs - we could actually have one in the future

-schools - MUCH better chance of them get decent funding

-uni - people from lower income families can go without the daunting prospect of student debt later in life hanging over them, even if there’s a system in place currently to pay it off once a certain salary is earned, it still affects credit scores and just the initial thought of being in so much debt is enough to put people off the idea and not research into how it is actually managed

- Jeremy Corbyn has actually shown up to debates and has performed far better in them than Theresa May who looks terrified at every question thrown at her and then skirts round it by answering a similar but fundamentally different question that she has already prepared an answer to

- the top earners will get taxed fairly (yes that means a higher percentage because they can afford to)

- no dementia tax (idk why anyone ever thought that was a good idea)

- they give more fucks about the environment

- um Theresa seems a lil too keen to get the nukes out imo

tldr; labour care more about the people of the country than the tories do and it’s the people that make the uk what it is, look after them and vote labour pls and thx ❤️

p.s. I can understand wanting to vote for green or libdem or another smaller party idk, but now is not the time, look into your constituency’s voting history and if they actually stand a chance of winning the seat then sure go for it if you really think it will make a difference to the country’s future but the main aim (this is how I see it anyway) is to make sure the conservatives don’t get the majority and the best way to ensure that is to vote labour

(this was a lot longer than I intended soz)


Daenerys x Reader

Requested by @ravuswolf

“We need someone to make an alliance with her.” Sansa pointed out and you rolled your eyes.

“Why me and not Jon?” You sighed and she chuckled.

“Because you wanted to cross the seas and Jon never has.” When the two of you glanced at Jon he shrugged and span his goblet in his hand.

“She is right though, we need someone to make an alliance with her and it will be easier to do face to face, we can spare some money for you and you’ll have to stay until you’ve secured her favour.” Jon waited for you to nod, all be it reluctantly.

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Dia duit! Hi!

I’m Martha and I’m from Northern Ireland. I’ve been skirting round the edges of studyblr for a while, and I decided to finally join! I hope that studyblr will keep me focused, inspire me, and help me to keep my eye on my goals.

About me
✨ I’m 16 years old
✨ I start A Levels at the end of August (if all my GCSEs went well *fingers crossed*)
✨ I’m a Slytherin and INFP
✨ I’m trying to learn Irish at the moment. I love learning about my culture and the way I see it using random Gaeilge words in the middle of English sentences is a success!

My Subjects (hopefully anyway) in the year 2017-2018)
✨ English Lit
✨ History
✨Government and Politics
✨ RS

I LOVE Harry Potter, Brooklyn 99, Doctor Who, and BBC Sherlock. I also sometimes play badminton (for the craic).

Some of my favourite blogs are: @teenytinyhermione @irishlanguagelearners @peachystudy @stationeryhoe-highlighter-kink @gaeilge101 @seamusstudies

My inbox is always open so don’t hesitate to send me a message, and if you’re a studblr please like or reblog this because I need more blogs to follow :D


A ficlet that I didn’t have the time to write and I definitely did not have the time to check, but I felt like doing anyway. I hope somebody enjoys it :)

Also, thanks to @hushwatson and @one-thousand-splendid-stars for encouraging me to post it. I would have just deleted it from my computer otherwise!

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Elijah x Reader

Requested By Anon

Part One

Elijah tried to keep his distance, to allow you the space you needed while you both coexisted in the seemingly small space the compound provided. It hadn’t been long since Klaus had sent Hope away, the compound quickly becoming an awkward prison when the household set about putting on a show to put the city of New Orleans on edge.

The only time you escaped was to feed and even then you knew Elijah was nearby, watching over you protectively but at a distance. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, to have him watching over you, it was safe and familiar something you’d longed for, for many years.


“You’re not as good at stalking as you think you are.” You hummed as you compelled your victim and sent them on their way.

“My apologies (Y/N), I was attempting to be discreet.” Elijah said as he emerged from the shadows, straightening his cuffs as he wondered over to you.


“Elijah, have the years with your brother thought you nothing, you should know better than the follow a Hybrid.” You smiled and began the short walk back home.

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Stuck in traffic

The traffic stretched a long way back. They were not going to get anywhere soon. Jasmine looked across at Harriet from the passenger seat. They’d been best friends since first year at school, and now they were both 18. Harriet had recently passed her driving test, and bought a small car, meaning they could now travel a little further afield and get out of the tiny village where they’d spent most of their lives.

Today, they were heading to the beach. Jasmine had made a picnic and they’d thrown towels and a beach ball into the car boot, and off they’d gone, both wearing summer skirts and sunglasses.

Jasmine wound down the window, but the warm air didn’t do much to help her cool off. She glanced in the mirror and saw her forehead and chest glistening with perspiration. Harriet was also hot, despite her long dark hair tied up to keep her neck cool.

“Do you think there’s been an accident?” Jasmine asked, craning her neck to try and see what was causing the hold up.

“Maybe. I don’t know. We’ll get there.” Harriet didn’t seem too concerned – it was still mid morning, and they would hopefully still have the entire afternoon to enjoy when they got there. Jasmine wasn’t worried about that either, though… what she was worried about was her growing need to pee.

She crossed her legs and stared out of the window, trying to take her mind off it. She’d had cereal for breakfast, and a big mug of tea, and with all the rushing around to get the picnic ready, she’d completely forgot to go to the toilet before they set off. She realised now that that had been a mistake. She put a hand to her crotch as the car jolted forward a few paces, and then came to another standstill.

Harriet hummed along to the radio as she sat waiting, not a care in the world. Jasmine envied her. She obviously didn’t need to pee – she was in no rush. Jasmine tried to keep her desperation to herself, but her leg kept involuntarily jiggling up and down and she began to squirm in her seat as she tried to find a comfortable position in which to sit. Eventually, Harriet noticed what was happening.

“You okay, Jazz?”

“Yeah, fine,” Jasmine lied, but as she spoke she felt herself leak a little and pushed her hand further into her crotch, her skirt tangling round her legs as she did so.

“You sure?” Harriet asked, glancing down at Jasmine’s lap.

“I just need to pee,” Jasmine confessed finally, feeling herself blush a little and crossing her legs tighter.

“We’re not getting out of this traffic jam any time soon,” Harriet said apologetically. “Can you hold it?”

Jasmine moaned slightly as she clenched her pussy again, but felt another drop soak into the fabric of her underwear. “I’m not sure,” she gasped, almost doubling over in pain as the flood gates threatened to open.

“Well, shit…” Harriet looked around, wondering what to do. “Just pee, then, I guess.”


“Just do it.” She looked over at Jasmine and smiled. “I won’t tell anyone. And we’ve brought a change of clothes for when we get there. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll get your seat all wet,” Jasmine said, shocked, although the thought of finally letting go was a nice one.

“It’s leather, it’ll clean,” Harriet replied, shrugging. “Just pee, baby. Let it all out.”

Jasmine nodded, a tear running down her cheek in embarrassment. She put her head back and shuddered as she finally let go, her pee immediately soaking through her underwear and to her skirt, making a pool around her butt. Harriet looked down at Jasmine’s crotch and smiled, as the car moved forward a little more.

“Fuck, you were desperate,” Harriet said, barely able to contain her excitement. “Jasmine, this is HOT.”

Jasmine looked over at her then, warm pee running down her legs and hitting the floor. Harriet reached over and put her hand between Jasmine’s legs, feeling the warm dampness of her skirt and panties. “Oh, Jasmine, baby, it’s ok,” she said, as Jasmine began to cry from embarrassment. “Hey, it happens to all of us.” She looked Jasmine in the eyes and gave a wicked smile. “And, you know, I might have to pee too…”


I found this Specs/Romeo fic from about a year ago and I don’t think I ever posted it since I can’t find it anywhere online? So here it is!

“Has anyone seen Romeo?”

It was a question that Specs found himself asking frequently; Romeo had a habit of wandering off. And drunk Romeo was even more difficult to keep an eye on. Race had somehow acquired a bottle of something harsh and acrid tasting (no one wanted to ask where from) and Romeo had drunk a lot. Now he was missing and Specs was trying very hard to pretend he wasn’t panicking.

“Have you tried the roof?” Mush asked. It was invariably Jack’s place, but he never seemed to mind if it got used by any of the boy’s who needed time and fresh air to clear their head.

Specs answered by heading for the fire escape, taking the stairs two at a time until he reached the small rooftop of the lodging house. A rooftop that was, unfortunately, Romeo-free. Specs sighed, readjusting his glasses as if that would suddenly make Romeo visible. He shouldn’t be worrying this much. No one else was. Romeo was more than capable of looking after himself. Specs knew all that, but he couldn’t help the panic that ached in his chest. He ran his hands along the wall enclosing the roof and dipped his head to take some deep breaths and try to calm down. Romeo was fine, of course he was. What was the worst that could have happened to him?

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the signs as aesthetics

aries: Gatsby aesthetic. Gold and black. Angles and sharp lines. Dancing. Flowing fabric.

taurus: teen witch aesthetic. Black sunhats. Glittery eyelids. Chipped nail polish. Human skulls.

gemini: librarian aesthetic. Circular glasses. Candlelight. The smell of old books. Evergreen and maroon.

cancer: techno aesthetic. Hot pink and lime green. Grids. Laptops in bathtubs. Static.

leo: big city aesthetic. Round dark sunglasses. Pencil skirts. Skyscrapers. Museums.

virgo: 40s aesthetic. Victory curls. Denim and cotton. Red and white. Quiet smiles.

libra: space aesthetic. Comet trails. Black holes. Supernovas. Tattoos of the constellations.

scorpio: sk8erboi aesthetic. Loose clothing. Neon and black. The sound of wheels on pavement. Snapbacks.

sagittarius: nature hoe aesthetic. Weeds swallowing up abandoned houses. Mustard yellow tank tops. Wilting sunflowers. Little green beetles.

capricorn: photography aesthetic. Statues of the greek gods. Marble. Fountains. Cheekbones.

aquarius: 70s aesthetic. Turquoise and red. Bellbottoms. Long braided hair. Lava lamps.

pisces: the Plathsthetic. Oversized beige sweaters. Raindrops pummeling windows. Tattered copies of The Bell Jar. Unmade beds.