#Role of Research in Assignments

[emilywatson-01]

The Importance Of Research Skills In Producing High-Quality Assignments

Research skills are important for making good assignments. They help students find trustworthy information, understand the topic well, and explain their ideas clearly. Good research also lets students support their arguments with strong evidence, making their work more convincing. Plus, these skills teach critical thinking and problem-solving, which are useful in everyday life. Ultimately, good research skills lead to better grades and a more enjoyable learning experience.

[freyaandersson]

Importance of research skills in assignment

Understanding the importance of research skills in assignments is essential. These skills help you find reliable information, check sources carefully, and create strong arguments. Good research improves your assignments and helps you think more deeply and solve problems more effectively. By mastering research skills, you can improve your grades and gain valuable abilities for school and future jobs.

[rosesocietyy]

Claudia: who are you outside of me? If there was no me, and there was no him, who would you be?

Louis identity issues de pointe du lac:

[badplacetohaveagoodtime]

Yall someone else raised religious and still believes in said religion but doesn't agree with it and thus lives in a constant fear of ✨️eternal damnation✨️

[aguineapigcouldntdothis]

cant believe this college shit is working and im learning things and now people are trusting me to do things related to the topics I have been studying. this is scary what do you mean you want me to actively participate instead of just observing. what do you mean you think im ready dont you know ive never done this before

[beloved-child-of-the-house]

so i'm writing an 8th year fic and h&d are taking a muggle studies class together in which they read one of shakespeare's plays, and i'm trying to write a final project (for which they are partners) but like. hogwarts academics don't seem all that uhhhhh rigorous to me (like we see the students complaining about having to write a foot of parchment which is essentially ONE PAGE HANDWRITTEN) and i'm a little worried that my assignment is too rigorous.

it involves a lot of like. thinking analytically and using your imagination wrt the motivations of people unlike yourself, and that's not rlly something they do much at hogwarts as far as i can see. BUT it is muggle studies, and like. they could definitely all use some practice at those skills, following the recent implosion of their society.

[orykorioart]

Does Barry realize that he has a shiny umbreon/had a shiny eevee? Or did it go over his head? (Colorblind, absent minded, etc) ✨

Hmm- I think he definitely didn’t realize that his is different until he saw other trainers’ (like Lup’s and Taako’s) Eevees! Since Eevees are pretty rare (I guess right? In most games they have a pretty low encounter chance) I think he got lucky enough to catch an Eevee for his studies and didn’t think much about it.

I like the idea of him being in a researcher/professor-esque role (researching into how the bonds we share with a pokemon can strengthen it’s powers) and his shiny Eevee helps a lot in his research, and also leads him into looking more into wether ‘shiny’ characteristics can help strengthen that.

Of course game-wise shiny pokemon don’t have any special effects other than cosmetic, but the existence of shinies are only briefly referenced in general - I think it would be real fun to have a professor that specializes in this kinda stuff. Plus I think it kinda fits into him looking into the light of creation’s unique ‘desirability’ - and shiny pokemon being sought after.

[eviturner]

The Importance Of Research Skills In Producing High-Quality Assignments

Developing strong research skills is important for creating high-quality assignments. These skills empower students to locate credible and trustworthy information, enabling them to delve deeper into their subject matter. By honing their research abilities, students can effectively organise their ideas and bolster their arguments with factual evidence, lending credibility and depth to their work. Additionally, conducting thorough research equips students with the knowledge to avoid plagiarism by appropriately citing their sources, ensuring academic integrity. For a comprehensive exploration of research skills and their significance, delve into this insightful blog.

[zeravmeta]

Thoughts On The English Voices:

takumi - so bad it can't even be bad in a fun way, who is this Norm L Man guy voice trying to speak over female coworkers and acting his little heart out at the 3rd grade talent show trying to prove to everyone that he's still got it

takemaru- waaaaaaay way way too deep. this is not a 17 year old thug with a heart of gold this is a guy in his mid 30s who smoked a little bit and put on a voice filter to sound More Man because Hes A Man Guys Mann

shouma - actually kinda fits and chiefly ISNT TRYING TOO HARD which doubly fits the character so overall pretty good. easy 9/10

kako - somewhat fitting but fitting in a very nothingburger kind of way. like Yeah That Sure Is An English Girl Voice For The Young Girl Anime Character

ima - i feel so bad for this one because the va very clearly had fun with this role and WAS trying and not in a Too Hard Way but thumbs down. ngl i think the tone could work if ima were a slightly different character but he isnt and also every english va trying to work as a substitute for megumi ogata is bad anyways because you cannot ever replace megumi ogata's voicework and have an improvement

hiruko - trying just a little too hard. the voice and tone do fit but I feel like this va got a backstage note that was like a general list of character traits and whoever handed her the note really liked that hiruko was a dominatrix so that particular note was bolded circled in red pen and underlined 3 times to make the actor really convey that Shes A Dommy Guys

gaku - he is a sniveling little creature so his voice fits BUT he's a little too shrill and I think his voice having an annoying whine to it doesn't work bc its less that hes annoying because he's whining and thus needs the whiny voice and more that he's annoying because hes a bitter hater at everyone so the jp deeper tone va conveys it way better

darumi - the only proof that god doesnt want kodaka or uchikoshi to commit suicide because her english VA fulfills every checklist on being a perfect adaptation into a different language. EASILY the best english VA. POGGERS

tsubasa - my note on kako? yeah what if kako was annoying and had her audio balancing set to be higher

eito - head in hands deep sigh. YES OK its kinda good but it has a little too much nerd in glasses and buck tooth emoji feeling to it 🤓

nozomi - kinda like my note on kako but what if her voice actually fit better like shoumas. right alongside shouma as a Generally Good Above Baseline voice.

karua - same as nozomi but. weirdly better? I cant really say and honestly theres not a more fitting conclusion

kyoshika - hrmnnnn. this VA isnt trying too hard and isnt THAT unfitting but I feel like she's enunciating a little too much bc she got the note of kyoshika being an old fashioned samurai. less a fault of the english VA and more that the jp VA just had a better grasp of conveying how parody of a character she is

kurara - geh. too high pitched and unfitting in general, not nearly enough elegance or noblesse oblige. also sounds like theres a filter? or maybe the sections ive heard had the va with something in the back of her throat. what did you do to my tomato

yugamu - if darumi had any competition for a good english VA it would absolutely be yugamu's english VA, this man understood the assignment. notably theres a little more character acting in this voice, where it feels like they actually read some of the context around the script to convey yugamu's character well vs just reading from a script

moko - this VA understood the assignment like yugamu's VA i can tell they had fun and really truly did try their best.... but it just doesnt fit im sorry moko's english va.... it really does sound like "girl voice but the speaker pitches it down a bit to be slightly manlier"

sirei - So normal but i kiiiinda like it better? Unfortunately thats a knock against him bc Sirei's voice is meant to be annoying THAT SAID going from a jp to english audience, making him a little bit southern/ AMERICA WAR MAN does work weirdly enough

nigou - keeps nigous gender ambiguous so honestly. best i could hope for in an english va of the thick assed marshmallow

eva - her voice is actually pretty good! easy fit alongside the shouma tier of voices

vehxness - this one is pretty good. even with favorite character bias i think this va just had the dramatics down to a T and did a really solid job. longer dialogues dont work as well bc she just doesnt have the Handsome Woman voice but when shes hooting and hollering dramatically with big speeches shes at her best

shion -

maybe im just an ontologically evil filthy elitist weeb loser about this but the hundred line english va's suck so bad takumi's voice on its own is so far removed from the character i cant take it seriously.

that said darumi saying poggers is the strongest "finger on anubis' scale" for justifying its existence

[lunimy]

i have sooooo many thoughts about the relationship the system has w/ freddy and everything he does and how they deal with it someday i’ll write about it

[matcha3mochi]

GLASS BETWEEN US Pairing: Merman Rafayel x Scientist Reader

author note: ive been into love and deepspace recently, so here ya go hehe

wc: 4,870

───⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

You took the job because you needed a way out.

It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t even particularly well-paid. But the offer came with minimal paperwork, restricted clearance, and one very clear instruction: ask no questions.

So you accepted.

The facility—remote, underground, heavily secured—was the kind of place not listed on maps. It didn’t exist according to the public record, and yet it buzzed with life: researchers, guards, engineers, medics. They all moved with the quiet, tense urgency of people doing work that couldn’t be acknowledged outside these walls.

Your first day was a blur of orientation. Non-disclosure clauses, retinal scans, and procedural briefings stacked with redacted pages. You caught glimpses of terms like “specimen,” “cognitive divergence,” “aquatic containment.”

No one told you what exactly was inside Lab C. Just that you’d be assisting with long-term observation. You assumed it would be another mutated marine species pulled up from some trench, something grotesque and territorial. Maybe even dangerous.

But the truth was stranger.

When they finally led you through the corridors and into the observation chamber, you expected cold steel and sharp smells.

Instead, the room was quiet. Dim. The tank was massive—more an aquarium than a cell—bathed in low light that shimmered across the walls like waves. The water inside was dark, cold, impossibly deep. You stepped forward, clutching your tablet, already preparing to log oxygen levels and salinity.

That was when you saw him.

Not a specimen.

Not a subject.

Something else.

Your breath caught before you even registered why.

And just like that, the job you took to escape your life became the one thing you couldn’t walk away from.

You didn’t know it then, but that first glance would mark the start of something irreversible. Something that would pull you under, inch by inch, breath by breath.

The moment you saw him, your surroundings blurred into static. The beeping monitors, murmuring technicians, even the weight of your data tablet—all of it fell away.

Inside the isolation tank, a living impossibility drifted in manufactured saltwater. Designed to emulate the hadal zone, the deepest part of the ocean, the containment system glowed softly under rows of harsh overhead lighting. The glass was nearly ten inches thick.

He floated at the bottom, not quite asleep but clearly subdued. His body was serpentine, a long and powerful tail coiled beneath him like an anchor. Its surface shimmered with deep cobalt and streaks of pearlescent silver, every movement creating subtle waves of reflected light. Even now, in apparent stillness, he seemed to shift with the current, his tail flicking faintly like a ribbon suspended in water.

The upper half of his body resembled a human form—broad shoulders, strong arms—but with a sleekness and symmetry that felt engineered rather than natural. It was hard not to stare. Harder still to assign him the term specimen, as though he were just another data point.

His face was unnerving in its beauty. Too elegant. Too calm. Dark purple hair floated around his head, surrounding him like a halo. Thin, branching scars ran near the gills along his neck—signs of struggle? Or surgery? You couldn’t tell. Around his wrists were red rings where restraints had dug in, proof that something here had gone very wrong before it got quiet.

You took one step closer to the glass.

His eyes opened.

Bright blue, slit-pupiled, and utterly alien, they fixed on yours with uncanny stillness. Not vague awareness—recognition. As if you were something known. Something expected.

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until Dr. Havers spoke behind you.

“Sedated but semi-lucid,” he muttered. “You’ll get used to it.”

You doubted that.

You didn’t look away.

Neither did he.

Your formal role changed within forty-eight hours. A sudden shift, approved without ceremony. You were now responsible for the nocturnal observation cycle—Lab C, 2300 to 0400. Solo rotation. Minimal contact. Maximum discretion.

It wasn’t framed as special. If anything, it felt procedural. But there was an unspoken reason behind it. He responded to you—consistently, uniquely, and visibly. While other personnel were met with either silence or aggression, your presence generated stability. Lowered agitation. Reduced biomarker volatility.

“You’re not a risk variable,” Havers said, handing you a new clearance badge. “He recognizes that. Use it.”

That first night on shift, you sat alone behind the curved monitor console, tank lights dimmed to deep ocean blue. The lab echoed with the soft churn of water filters and the occasional mechanical click of the oxygen injectors. You opened a new file. Began a log.

SESSION 01 2303 HRS — Subject floats near lower quadrant. Motion minimal. Eyes open, tracking. 2317 HRS — Approaches glass at station-facing side. Remains within one meter. 0010 HRS — Mimics observer posture. Arms crossed. Head tilted. Intentional or coincidental?

The entries became more granular with each passing hour. You logged pupil dilation, fin twitching, shoulder alignment. The angle of his fingers against the glass. The way he followed the rhythm of your breathing when you leaned forward. Occasionally, he'd trace your silhouette on the other side of the glass, following your hand movements with uncanny precision.

He blinked less often when watching you, and more when others entered the lab—a strange, deliberate contrast. He began to tap his claws rhythmically against the tank wall when you wrote, a pattern that shifted in tempo depending on your pace. When you stood up, he rose. When you sat, he settled. A mirror, distorted by water and light, but growing clearer by the day.

By your third shift, the notes had started to blur.

SESSION 03 2248 HRS — Subject at station wall prior to entry. Appears to anticipate schedule. 2350 HRS — Subject mirrors tablet tapping. When observer writes, subject responds with claw motions against tank interior. 0104 HRS — Sustained eye contact. Three full minutes. Observer initiated break. Subject remained locked in gaze.

You began categorizing his behaviors under new terms. Not hostile. Not adaptive. Instead: intentional. Self-directed. Curious.

And eventually: fixated.

There was a pattern now, undeniable and precise. Every time you entered the room, he was already waiting. Every time you left, he followed your departure with slow, measured turns around the glass, as though mapping your absence.

Your notes became less technical. More observational. And then, more personal.

You started writing things you didn’t submit to the shared logs. Quiet questions scrawled in the margins of your private notebook.

Why only me? How much does he understand? Is this intelligence, or attention? Or is it something else?

You didn’t know the answers. Not yet.

But you couldn’t stop asking.

You hadn’t planned to speak to him. You weren’t even sure he could comprehend language.

But on the sixth night, everything was too quiet. The hum of the facility, the subdued flicker of the monitors—it all pressed in like static. You were tired. Frustrated. Your head rested on your folded arms, your mind drifting.

“I hate this place,” you muttered.

The water stirred.

Your eyes shot up. He was near the glass. Closer than before. His hands hovered just beneath the surface, claws relaxed. He tilted his head, as if listening.

Then he repeated it.

“I… hate… this… place.”

His voice was strange—raspy, resonant, shaped by a throat unused to speech. But he’d matched your cadence. Your tone. Even the way you’d slurred the words.

You stood.

“You understood that?”

He moved his mouth again. Slower. Testing the rhythm of speech.

“You… are… different.”

The room felt suddenly warmer. Or maybe colder.

Maybe both.

From that night on, your interactions became more complex.

Every time you entered, he was already waiting. You’d sit. He’d drift toward the glass, his body weaving gently behind him, as if pulled by invisible threads.

He began to mimic you in increasingly specific ways. When you tapped on your tablet, he tapped the tank wall. When you shifted in your seat, he mirrored the motion, down to the tilt of your head.

Researchers noticed. They logged it as proof of successful imprinting.

But you knew the difference between mimicry and obsession.

There was an intensity in his gaze that couldn't be dismissed. It was full of purpose. Of attention. He was learning you—not just your behaviors, but your moods. Your microexpressions. He watched your fingers when they trembled. He watched your lips when you breathed.

You tried to maintain boundaries.

But then the dreams started.

The dreams began as fragments.

At first, they were flashes—flashes of cold, of water creeping into your lungs, of sound that wasn’t quite voice but still carried meaning. Pressure without pain. Depth without fear.

Then they became immersive.

You were no longer watching from behind glass. You were inside the tank—or somewhere like it. A vast ocean with no surface and no floor. Everything shimmered in gradients of blue and black, lit by pulses of distant light. You were floating, suspended, and something was circling you.

You felt it before you saw him.

His presence. Electric. Intentional. Like gravity made flesh.

In the dream, Rafayel didn’t speak with words. He moved closer with the slowness of a creature that knew time was irrelevant. His fingers brushed your shoulder, your wrist, your waist—not with heat but with a chill so profound it burned.

You were never afraid.

Sometimes he held you. Other times, he watched you from below, his eyes glowing brighter than the deep. Always silent. Always there.

And always, just before waking, he would place his hand against your chest and say:

You belong here.

You’d wake gasping. Covered in sweat. The room dry, your lungs aching with the ghost of imagined water. And you’d feel it: a residual pulse. As if part of you hadn’t returned.

It was nearly 3:00 a.m. when the emergency alarms shattered the stillness.

You were off-shift. Sleeping. Or trying to. The facility-issued cot in your quarters was thin, the recycled air too dry. But exhaustion didn’t matter—because when the klaxon blared and the lights above your bed pulsed red, your heart dropped into your stomach.

Containment breach — Lab C.

You didn’t stop to think. You didn’t change. You threw on your coat over your sleep shirt and sprinted barefoot through the corridors, barely registering the startled faces of guards and technicians scrambling toward lockdown protocols.

When you reached the lab, the glass was already webbed with cracks.

Inside, the tank churned like a storm-tossed sea. Rafayel was in full fury—no longer the silent, observant being from your shifts. He was something else now. Magnificent and terrifying. His tail whipped with bone-cracking force, slamming the reinforced walls, again and again. The steel supports groaned. Water frothed with foam and light. Machinery sparked along the edges. A lab tech screamed as a panel exploded.

Two guards aimed stun-rods at the tank. “We have to subdue him—!”

“No—!” You pushed past them, breathless. “Let me try first!”

They hesitated—just long enough.

You stepped into the observation chamber, doors sealing behind you. A protective barrier of glass separated you from the tank, but it felt far too thin. Rafayel turned—spun mid-air like a coil of silk and muscle—and slammed his claws into the tank wall right in front of you.

You didn’t flinch.

You raised your hand. Slowly. Palms open.

“Rafayel,” you said softly, almost whispering, “Stop.”

His body stilled, suspended in violent motion.

The roar of the alarms, the hum of the oxygen pumps, even the buzz of the failed lighting—all of it faded into the background.

His breath came in sharp, rapid bursts. His eyes glowed like deep-sea lanterns. He hovered there, inches from the glass, claws still pressed hard enough to screech against it. But he wasn’t attacking now. He was… watching.

You stepped closer, until you were nearly touching the tank wall. Your hand hovered where his claws had struck just moments before.

“It’s me,” you said.

He blinked.

Then, without a sound, he floated backward. A slow, deliberate motion. One hand slid down the tank’s interior, leaving a trail of pale bioluminescence behind it. His tail coiled gently beneath him. The water settled. Foam dissipated. The light in his eyes dimmed—not dulled, just… quieter.

And then, unbelievably, he pressed his forehead to the glass.

Directly across from yours.

The room held its breath.

He closed his eyes.

You mirrored him.

The silence stretched.

Behind you, through the speaker system, you barely caught Dr. Havers’ voice: “Subject de-escalated. Immediate threat withdrawn.”

The guards didn’t speak. They didn’t move. No one did.

Because they saw what you saw.

He hadn’t calmed because of sedatives. Or fear.

He had calmed because of you.

And something in your chest cracked—splintered under the weight of a realization you weren’t ready for.

Whatever Rafayel was…

He wasn’t just watching you.

He needed you.

After the incident, you were called in for multiple evaluations. The staff expressed concern. His reactions were too focused. Too specific.

“Forming a fixation,” they said. “You’re a variable he’s centering around. It might become dangerous.”

But you didn’t feel afraid.

Each night, he was waiting. Sometimes he pressed his hand to the glass, palm to palm. Sometimes he mirrored your face until it felt like looking into a distorted reflection.

You broke protocol.

“Why me?” you asked him softly.

He moved close.

“You… are mine.”

Your heart thudded. You stood frozen.

“You don’t know me.”

He smiled, faint but assured.

“I remember you.”

You shook your head.

“That’s impossible.”

He only repeated, quietly: “You were always coming here.”

You stopped sleeping.

Each night, your dreams blended into your shifts. You began bringing small things into the lab. A book. A ring. A scarf. He noticed all of them. Watched each object with careful interest.

One night, you left a pen on the console.

When you returned the next night, it was inside the tank—placed delicately in a shrine of coral, shells, and scavenged materials. A gift.

You didn’t say anything.

But your chest ached with something unnamed.

And he knew.

The lab was quiet when you arrived, as it always was during your late shifts. But tonight, something felt heavier in the air. As you keyed into the monitoring station, you sensed him waiting.

He was already pressed to the glass, body still, eyes glowing faintly in the dim blue light. His gaze locked on you the instant you stepped into the room. You hadn’t even set your tablet down before he moved—slowly, fluidly—closer, so close that his breath fogged the glass.

Your heart pounded.

You didn’t need to say anything. He already knew you were listening.

“Free me,” he said.

The words were clear. Measured. Spoken not as a plea, but as a promise.

You stared at him, your throat tightening. “I can’t.”

He didn’t move away. He simply watched you, eyes scanning your face like he could read what you didn’t say.

“You don’t belong here either,” he murmured, voice soft and steady. “Not with them.”

He pressed a hand to the glass, and instinctively, without thinking, you lifted yours. His fingers aligned with yours, claws brushing the barrier.

“They see a cage,” he whispered. “You see me.”

The words didn’t sound rehearsed. They sounded like something he’d been waiting to say for a long time.

You swallowed hard. “If I open that tank, they’ll—”

He tilted his head, interrupting gently. “They fear what they cannot hold.”

You felt the heat of your own breath fog the glass. Your hand stayed pressed to his.

“Take it away,” Rafayel whispered. “Let me show you what you already know.”

The glass vibrated faintly under your palm. Not from his strength. From something else. Something deeper. A resonance that pulsed in your bones.

Outside the tank, you were still an employee, a researcher, a name on a schedule.

Inside the tank, he was waiting.

And in that moment, the glass no longer felt like protection.

It felt like a wall you weren’t sure you wanted to keep.

[aphrodicci]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴜʟᴛɪᴍᴀᴛᴇ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛʏ ᴅᴇɢʀᴇᴇ ❦ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

❦ follow for more content! ❦

join my discord :)

❦ beautiful divider by @uzmacchiato ❦

remember a number shall not define your beauty, but describe it. if you do not have this, this does not mean you are not beautiful.

❦ did you know that the 23 degree is known as the ultimate beauty degree? like how the 29th degree is known to be the ultimate fame degree. the star of god. but the 23 degree is the star of aphrodite.

❦ it's usually perceived as a degree of extreme beauty or as someone who receives extreme attention. considering that it is naturally ruled by aquarius and it's the last degree of aquarius as the first one is the 11th degree.

❦ its critical when it lands in venus, but with my own research, all the celebrities who are considered to have an extreme charm, influence and beauty to them have this degree in any placement. as with its uranian influence it gives the number the wheel of fortune [as the wheel of fortune is about a random series events good or bad, which aquarius/uranus rules].

❦ as the degree gives exageratted allure it does put off people, for example. megan fox who has this degree on her gemini venus is usually playing roles that involve her being a bombshell, someone who has the type of beauty that wonders if they're from the same plane as you. which could be considered why she is given roles where she is a "robot" "siren/succubus" characters.

❦ another example is rihanna who carries this degree on her north node, and she is known for her incredible beauty. and with it being in north node pisces, it explains why many musicians/people within a similar industry of her always wanted her, considered her to be their future wife. and with it being paired with north node/rahu which is known for its temper, it connects to why men are usually fighting over her. what else i've realised is that she has also been associated with being a siren.

❦ this aphrodite degree brings someone a distinct appearance, which makes it easier for other people to tell when someone is copying them. ariana grande has this degree on her pluto. rihanna has this degree like i've mentioned before and adriana lima holds this degree on her neptune which falls in the 1h. and the women i have listed usually have people wanting to do ANYTHING to look like them.

❦ these women who have this degree not only have extreme beauty but they share innovative style which makes people fall in even more in love with them. megan fox and the other beautiful women i have mentioned are known to have many clones on social media it's always joked about, whether it be through music style, clothing, hair, make-up. peope unintentionally treat these women to be the trend-setter of commodites they're strong in.

❦ you could be wondering how is the 23 degree associated with venus? and it's because through numerology and spirituality, the number 3 is associated with venus and the empress. and when you multiply the 2 and 3 together it adds up to 6 which is another venus essence degree [notice how i said venus essence and not mercury, that'll be a post for another day!] but the number 6 is associated with aphrodite who is sometimes deciphered to be lucifer. [lucifer who was known to be the most beautiful angel].

❦ at face value, the 23 degree adds up to 5. which is another beauty degree. on the other hand when we look strictly back to the signs being assigned to the number. the 23rd degree is a uranus degree, and uranus can give extreme and even off-putting beauty.

❦ usually neptune is considered with sirens, yet so is uranus as it governs over alien species. to us, sirens are a type of alien as they're about the unfamiliar and the unknown.

❦ the aquarius influence gives it an untouchable glamour which makes people want to replicate it even more. to attain the "unattainable". and this can also manifest in social dynamics, besides the individual having much beauty. they carry a charm and essence that make people attracted to it, almost worship it. which falls into the "uranus god complex" trait.

❦ aquarius rules over memorable beauty, for example annalynne mccord. her role as naomi in 90210 made me shocked by her beauty more. the more episodes she was in the more i was taken away.

❦ with this uranus energy, the degree becomes a beauty where someone learns how to own their beauty. owning what makes them look unique and breath-taking instead of letting current trends direct you to what you think you should do.

❦ the venusian and uranian cross over gives the person a magnetism that is easy to reach, like an icon.

❦ another example is cassie ventura, she has this degree on her mercury in leo. and it's a collective agreement that she's one of the most beautiful faces that we've ever seen.

❦ and like the previous women i have listed down. she was also a trendsetter. when she had many people shave the side of their head so they could feel like they are her? that is the 23rd degree energy. she has the type of beauty that feels too unreal, and with it also being in leo it shows how many people wanted her attention + her beauty being one of the things that gives her fame [lets ignore the who shall not be named].

❦ both the 23rd degree and leo are fame commodities in astrology, these two being alligned together shows that cassie is a powerhouse.

❦ thank you for reading! ❦

❦ join my discord :) ❦

❦

[newobsessionweekly]

She's my wife

Tim Bradford x wife!reader

part 1

Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: You are Tim's wife, six months pregnant, and refusing to rest. When you're assigned to recruit police officers for a new Metro team, your husband makes sure no one messes with his wife.

Fluff

A/N: Well, it's been a while but I guess I'm back in business. The most requested imagine of all! I hope you all enjoy it and excuse my disappearance. I can't guarantee you'll get more work from me as often as I used you to, but I can promise you I'll write and post all my ideas! Thank you for your support! Lots of love, bubs! Take care of yourselves! 🫶🏻

Warnings: None, pure fluff, (maybe mention of small injuries i guess?), not proofread yet

Requested: Yes!

Words: -

If there was one thing Tim Bradford never expected to happen in his lifetime, it was being completely and utterly wrapped around someone’s finger.

And yet, here he was.

It had started the second you told him you were pregnant. He’d been so sure he’d keep his cool—be the composed, level-headed Sergeant he was known to be. But the moment those words left your mouth, his entire world tilted on its axis. For the first time in years, something scared him. Not a suspect pulling a gun, not a high-risk Metro raid—this. You. The life growing inside of you.

Of course, you didn’t make it easy on him.

You had spent the first two trimesters of your pregnancy insisting that you were fine, rolling your eyes every time he tried to gently suggest that you should slow down.

"Tim," you sighed one evening, standing in your kitchen while he insisted on cooking for you. "You’re hovering."

"I am not hovering," he said flatly, though he absolutely was.

You arched a brow, leaning against the counter. "I’m pregnant, not dying."

Tim grunted, flipping the chicken in the pan. "Still not taking any chances."

You smirked, stepping closer, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. "You love worrying about me, don’t you?"

He sighed, tilting his head down to press a kiss to your temple. "Yeah, well. You make it impossible not to."

What he didn’t expect was that pregnancy would turn him into the world’s most overprotective husband.

It started subtly—making sure you ate on time, setting reminders on his phone for all your doctor’s appointments, researching vitamins when you weren’t looking. Then it got worse.

Like the time he woke up at 2 AM to find you scrolling through work emails.

"Are you kidding me?" He groaned, rolling over to take the tablet from your hands. "You’re supposed to be sleeping."

"I am sleeping."

"You’re awake," he deadpanned.

You just smirked, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. "Then make me tired, Sergeant."

But by the second trimester? Oh, he was doomed.

Because you were still you—stubborn, reckless, and infuriatingly unwilling to slow down.

He should’ve seen it coming. You had spent your entire career proving yourself in Metro’s elite tactical unit, earning every bit of respect that came your way. You weren’t just some officer—they called you a tactical genius, someone who could think three steps ahead in high-pressure situations.

So of course, when the brass suggested you take maternity leave, you laughed in their faces.

"You should take it," Tim had said carefully, fully expecting a figh

You scoffed, arms crossed over your chest. "And do what? Sit at home and wait?"

"It’s called resting, sweetheart."

You’d rolled your eyes so hard he was surprised they didn’t get stuck. "Not happening."

And, of course, you won.

Instead of getting benched entirely, you were offered a leadership role—forming a new Metro team. It was a compromise. Less fieldwork, more strategy. And while Tim reluctantly agreed it was the best option, it didn’t stop him from hovering over you like a damn bodyguard every chance he got.

Now, here you were—six months pregnant and stationed at Mid-Wilshire, observing officers, evaluating skills, and deciding who was good enough for your team.

And here Tim was, barely keeping it together.

The Mid-Wilshire training room was filled with tension as the candidates for your Metro team sat in front of you. Lucy Chen, Angela Lopez, John Nolan, Nyla Harper, and a few other officers watched you with rapt attention as you paced the front of the room, flipping open the folder in your hands.

"Metro isn’t just about skill," you said, voice steady and firm. "It’s about adaptability, precision, and teamwork. Today, I want to see how you handle high-pressure situations."

You gestured toward the training mats. "We’re going to run a combat demonstration—basic takedowns, disarm techniques, and reaction time drills."

Tim immediately frowned.

He knew what you were doing. You wanted to prove yourself. Wanted to show these officers that pregnancy hadn’t slowed you down, that you were still as sharp and dangerous as ever. And while he respected the hell out of that, it didn’t stop the knot of worry from tightening in his chest.

"Are you sure—" Tim started, stepping forward.

"Yes," you cut him off before he could finish, shooting him a look that said don’t start.

He exhaled sharply but didn’t argue.

The officers lined up as you demonstrated a quick disarm technique, moving through the motions with practiced ease. But Tim saw it immediately. The slight hesitation in your step, the way your movements weren’t as fluid as usual.

Your balance was off.

Officer Matthews—new to Mid-Wilshire, cocky as hell—stepped up for the exercise. He moved fast, testing the maneuver harder than necessary. You reacted on instinct, blocking his attack, but—

You stumbled.

Not a lot. Barely anything. But Tim saw it.

Before anyone else could react, he was already there, hand gripping your arm, the other steadying your waist. His entire body was rigid, tension rolling off him in waves.

"Are you okay?" His voice was low, controlled—but barely.

You huffed, annoyed. "I’m fine, Tim. I just lost my footing—"

"You shouldn’t even be—"

"Don’t." You cut him off sharply, leveling him with a glare. "I know my limits."

Tim’s stomach burned.

And then Matthews laughed.

Your husband's head snapped toward him so fast it was a miracle the kid didn’t flinch.

"You think this is funny?" Tim’s voice dropped, low and dangerous.

Matthews shrugged, unfazed. "I just think it’s a little ironic that Metro sent a pregnant woman to recruit us."

The temperature in the room plummeted.

Lucy and Angela both stiffened, already knowing what was coming. Nolan looked like he wanted to disappear, and Nyla just smirked, waiting for the fallout.

Tim took a slow step forward. "You want to run that by me again?"

Matthews chuckled, oblivious. "I just mean, maybe Metro should—"

"That’s my wife." Tim’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

Matthews’ smirk vanished.

Tim stepped closer, looming over the rookie, his entire body coiled with restrained fury. "That’s my wife," he repeated, voice sharp as steel, "and if you ever question her ability again, you won’t just lose your chance at Metro—you’ll lose your badge altogether."

Matthews swallowed, stepping back. "I—I didn’t know—"

"Yeah?" Tim’s tone was ice. "Well, now you do."

Silence.

The entire room seemed to collectively hold its breath.

Tim turned back to you, eyes scanning over you, checking—always checking. His hand found its way to your waist again, grounding himself in the solid reality of you standing there, unharmed.

"You okay?" he murmured, softer now.

You sighed, pressing a hand to his chest. "Tim, I’m fine."

He didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. "We’re talking about this later."

"Looking forward to it," you deadpanned.

The tension in the room slowly lifted as Matthews slinked away, and Lucy finally broke the silence with a grin. "Well, that was fun."

Nyla chuckled. "I was wondering when people would finally figure it out."

Nolan exhaled, shaking his head. "I knew something was up."

You rolled your eyes, stepping back and addressing the room. "Alright. Now that everyone is caught up—back to training."

And just like that, the spell broke.

But as you walked back toward the mats, Tim caught your hand, squeezing gently. You looked up, meeting his gaze—warm, steady, and unapologetically devoted.

Because if there was one thing everyone knew now, it was that messing with you meant dealing with him.

And no one messed with Tim Bradford’s wife.

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #27

Danny wasn’t trying to become a supervillain’s protégé. Honestly, he was just trying to survive another semester at MIT without spontaneously combusting from stress. At nineteen, between triple-majoring in Astrophysics, Mechanical Engineering, and Paranormal Biochemistry—and moonlighting as the occasionally-glowy, occasionally-exploding, semi-competent vigilante known to the public as Phantom—Danny was hanging on by a thread. A very frayed, very caffeine-soaked thread. So when one of his professors suggested a special “independent study project” with a visiting Latverian dignitary-slash-scientist, Danny said yes without thinking. He needed the credits. He needed the money. He needed the free lunch vouchers. What he did not need, apparently, was to accidentally apprentice himself to Doctor Fucking’ Doom.

At first, he didn’t know. To Danny, “Victor” was just this weird, intense European dude with a crazy sense of fashion (who the hell wore a green cape in broad daylight?) and a laugh that definitely belonged in a villain origin story. But Victor paid well, never judged him for falling asleep mid-sentence, and always had the best coffee imported from who-knows-where. Danny figured he was just some rich old nerd with a lot of quirks. Maybe a little murder-y, but hey, Danny was from Amity Park. His standards for “dangerous mentor figure” were catastrophically low.

“Daniel,” Victor intoned one day, standing over a schematic that looked suspiciously like a laser death satellite. “Tell me: what improvements would you make to a mobile interdimensional particle cannon capable of vaporizing Manhattan?”

Danny, who hadn’t slept in three days and thought this was just a theoretical design, squinted at the blueprints and muttered, “Uh… you forgot the phase stabilizer. Without it, the cannon would rip itself apart before you could fire. Also, your aim’s gonna suck unless you recalibrate the gyroscopic system.”

Victor went unnaturally still. “Explain.”

Danny yawned so hard his jaw cracked. “M’kay, so if you adjust the vibrational harmonics here”—he drew all over the deadly weapon diagram with a crayon—“and rework the mana-infused crystal lattice to resonate at a higher frequency… boom. Stable, precise, terrifying. A+ on your murder machine, Professor Von Evilcape.”

Victor stared at him for a long time. Then he laughed. Not just any laugh. A full, villainous, booming laugh that echoed through the lab and set off three alarms in the next building over. Danny didn’t even blink. He just kept doodling tiny ghosts on the margins of the schematic.

From that moment onward, Victor—Doctor Doom, actual dictator of Latveria, sorcerer supreme wannabe, world-class narcissist��decided Danny was his heir apparent. His secret weapon. His beautiful chaotic son who understood him better than any of the clowns in Latveria ever had. He didn’t ask Danny if he wanted the role. He just started sending Danny increasingly absurd “assignments” that Danny, running on Monster Energy and bad life choices, completed without registering how criminally insane they were.

Case in point: one evening, Danny stumbled into the lab with a Red Bull in one hand and a half-eaten burrito in the other. Victor handed him a device.

“Install this at Stark Tower.”

Danny blinked at the tiny, harmless-looking black box. “Uh, what is it?”

“A signal booster for quantum research purposes.”

Danny, who trusted absolutely no one and also didn’t care because he had a paper due at midnight, shrugged. “Okay, cool.”

He broke into Stark Tower that night with the ease of a sleepwalking raccoon, installed the “signal booster” inside one of Tony Stark’s servers, and left. The next morning, the news was screaming about a massive data breach that almost triggered World War III. Danny was too busy trying to finish his midterm essay on quantum entanglement to notice.

“Good work, Daniel,” Victor said approvingly during their next meeting, clapping him on the back so hard he almost faceplanted into a dimensional rift. “You have the soul of a conqueror.”

“Thanks, man,” Danny mumbled, chugging coffee straight from the pot.

Victor took it a step further. He started introducing Danny at fancy functions. “This is Daniel. He is my most promising apprentice. One day he will inherit my empire.”

Danny, half-dead from exams and not paying attention, just nodded absently and said, “Yup. Love the Empire Strikes Back. Great movie. Big fan.”

Victor beamed.

It wasn’t until six months later, after the “Study Abroad” paperwork (actually an all-expenses-paid trip to Latveria) and the suspiciously grand laboratory gifted to him “for his brilliance,” that Danny realized something was deeply wrong.

He was skimming through some documents on Victor’s encrypted network—because of course Doom had an encrypted network called “DoomNet”—when he found it.

Last Will and Testament of Victor Von Doom: In the event of my death, all of Latveria, my scientific research, all proprietary technology, magical artifacts, nuclear launch codes, hidden doomsday devices, and the title of Supreme Monarch will pass to my chosen heir: Daniel Fenton, aka “Phantom,” aka “My Beautiful Disaster Child.”

Danny read it three times.

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Am I—AM I A VILLAIN PRINCE?!”

Cue the world’s most pathetic breakdown.

“NO NO NO NO NO. I JUST WANTED A DAMN SCHOLARSHIP!” He hurled a coffee mug at the wall. It phased through because he lost control of his intangibility again. “THIS IS WHAT I GET FOR TRUSTING ANYONE IN A CAPE.”

Danny spent the next two hours panic-researching Victor Von Doom. It was bad. It was really bad. It was, like, world-endingly bad. Murder records. Wars. Kidnapping Reed Richards’ kids. Banning Beyoncé from Latveria because she rejected his dinner invitation. BAD.

And it was too late. Doom had gone on international television that morning and announced Danny’s name as his successor.

“I have chosen my heir,” Doom declared, standing proudly atop his gold-plated balcony while cameras flashed below. “The boy shall inherit everything I have built. Bow before your future king, Daniel Fenton!”

Meanwhile, in his MIT dorm room, Danny choked on his cereal.

“Oh my God,” Tucker screamed over Facetime. “YOU’RE DOOM JUNIOR!”

Jazz was furiously typing. “Danny, that’s treason. Like, actual treason.”

Sam just stared at him with unholy glee. “So… when are you conquering America?”

“NEVER,” Danny screeched.

Too late. The Avengers showed up at MIT the next day. It was not subtle.

Tony Stark crashed into Danny’s quantum physics lecture, kicked open the door, and pointed dramatically at him. “YOU!”

Danny, hunched over his notes and running on negative hours of sleep, blinked. “Me?”

“Yeah, you, Doom Boy,” Tony said, stomping down the aisle while half the class screamed and ducked for cover. “You hacked my servers, hijacked my satellites, and installed a literal doom-signal into my mainframe. Care to explain, junior dictator?”

Danny held up his hands. “Okay, look. In my defense, I thought it was a Wi-Fi booster.”

Steve Rogers leaned in. “Are you actively trying to destroy America?”

Danny’s eye twitched. “Sir, I am actively trying to pass Organic Chemistry.”

Natasha Romanoff clicked a pen menacingly. “Are you or are you not plotting to overthrow the world?”

Danny hesitated. “I mean… define ‘plotting’?”

There was a long, painful silence.

Tony sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Kid. You’re on, like, several different international watchlists. Half of SHIELD thinks you’re planning to nuke New York.”

Danny’s voice cracked. “I didn’t even know how to do laundry until last month.”

And thus began the most chaotic custody battle in history: Doom versus the Avengers versus Danny versus himself.

Victor, naturally, was thrilled. He sent Danny monogrammed armor. A custom throne. A letter that read “My son, all great rulers are hated before they are loved. However feat not. Seize your destiny.”

Danny sent it back with a post-it note that said “pls stop.”

Tony tried to recruit him instead. “Work for me. You like tech, you like coffee, you’re already better at hacking than Peter—”

“HEY,” Peter Parker shouted from across the hall.

Danny groaned into his hands. “I don’t want to work for anyone! I just want a nap!”

Sam Wilson patted him on the back sympathetically. “Welcome to adulthood, kid.”

Things escalated horrifyingly fast. Latverian officials tried to smuggle Danny out of Massachusetts under the cover of night. Doom built a life-sized gold statue of him in Latveria’s capital square. The Avengers started putting “Phantom Threat Level: High” on their briefing files. Nick Fury cornered him in a diner and deadpanned, “Son, you’re one bad day away from becoming an international incident.”

Danny, shoving pancakes in his mouth, muffled, “I don’t wanna.”

Of course, life didn’t let him off that easy.

When Doom inevitably “died”—allegedly vaporized by a malfunctioning time machine because of course he did—Danny woke up to find a legal team at his dorm room.

“Congratulations, Your Majesty,” the lead lawyer said with an evil smile. “You are now King of Latveria.”

Danny fainted on the spot.

He woke up fifteen minutes later to find Sam fanning him with a Doom flag and Tucker wearing a Latverian general’s hat he stole from one of the lawyers.

“So…” Tucker grinned. “Wanna invade Canada first?”

Danny screamed into his pillow.

And somewhere, deep in the void between worlds, Doom—very much alive and sipping espresso—chuckled darkly.

“Atta boy, Daniel,” he whispered. “Atta boy.”

[thealchemistbae]

North Node Persona Chart Notes 🌟

Disclaimer: This post is for entertainment purposes only.

thealchemistbae © do not copy, redistribute, or edit my content.

If you enjoyed this post, you can leave me a tip via PayPal at goddessguapa@gmail.com or via Venmo @goddessguapa. Thank you.

Nobody really talks about this persona chart, so I decided to do my own research to give you guys some knowledge. DON'T forget to check out my Patreon for more exclusive astrology notes etc. Uploading more about this persona chart on my Patreon tonight.

In this chart, the houses show where you're being called to grow, stretch, and fully step into your divine assignment. Think of them as the "scene" where your North Node comes to life. Here's what each house means specifically in a NN Persona Chart:

🏠: 1H -> Look here to see how you need to step into your identity. Confidence, self-image, personal power...it's giving main character energy. If NN or planets are here, your entire destiny depends on owning their authenticity.

🏠: 2H -> This house shows how you'll create stability, money, and self-esteem. You're learning to claim your talents, feel secure in who you are, and not settle. Ask: How are you evolving in how you value yourself and what you deserve?

🏠: 3H -> Check this for communication style, social skills, and mental expansion. Your soul path could be tied to talking, teaching, writing, speaking up. Are you embracing your voice? Are you sharing your truth?

🏠: 4H -> This is the inner child healing, home, family, and roots house. This tells you what you must heal emotionally. Your NN path could depend on emotional safety, ancestral healing, and learning to nurture yourself. Deep inner work = required.

🏠: 5H -> This is where you're learning to create, perform, love, and play. Your purpose could shine when you embrace creativity, romance, fun, and being unapologetically yourself. Are you letting yourself shine?

🏠: 6H -> This house shows what you must master daily. Check this house to see what work, health, and service habits support your soul evolution. You need structure, rituals, and aligned productivity. This is the glow up through discipline house.

🏠: 7H -> This house shows your soulmate work, business collabs, and mirror dynamics. It shows how you grow through love and reflection. Your destiny could be unlocked through partnerships that challenge and evolve you. Who you choose to grow with is everything.

🏠: 8H -> Look here for power struggles, transformation, and rebirth energy. This house shows what you must release and reclaim. You're meant to go deep, face fears, heal trauma, and rise like a phoenix. Sex, money, and emotional intensity may all play big roles.

🏠: 9H -> This house shows where growth, wisdom, and spiritual evolution happens. How you expand your soul. Travel, higher education, philosophy, or publishing might be key. How are you breaking out of limitations and thinking bigger?

🏠: 10H -> This shows show what legacy you are building. Look here to see your career calling and public destiny. Your soul wants to be seen, respected, and successful in a big way. How are you showing up in the world? What are you meant to lead or create?

🏠: 11H -> This house shows how you impact the collective. It shows your soul tribe, activism, innovation, or spiritual friendships. Purpose unfolds when you stop doing it alone.

🏠: 12H -> This is the spiritual and karmic release house. This house shows what you must surrender. Your path is mystical and requires faith, healing, solitude, and trust in divine timing. Are you letting go of fear, or clinging onto old patterns?

The planets in your NN Persona Chart:

🌞 Sun: This shows the core identity of your purpose path. Where you need to confidently shine and lead as your higher self. Your soul's mission persona is infused with this sign & house energy.

🌙 Moon: This shows what your soul needs to feel safe on its growth journey. These emotions and instincts support (or block) your NN path depending on how you honor them. Nurture your Moon sign and it will fuel your purpose.

☿ Mercury: How you think, learn, speak, and share your ideas in service of your purpose. Also, how your mind processes your karmic lessons. Great for identifying purpose-linked communication gifts or mindset blocks.

♀ Venus: What you attract effortlessly when you're aligned with your destiny. How you love, what you value, and what makes your path feel beautiful, worthy, and abundant. Venus shows how to make your North Node journey feel luxurious, magnetic, and enjoyable.

♂ Mars: Your action style, ambition, and how you go after your soul’s mission. Mars is the gas pedal; it shows what motivates you to evolve and what triggers resistance. Mars also shows how you fight for your glow up.

♃ Jupiter: Your luck and soul growth are amplified in this area. Jupiter shows what makes you feel alive, inspired, and divinely guided on your North Node path. Jupiter is the cheerleader of your chart.

♄ Saturn: Hard lessons, karmic responsibilities, and what you must master to fulfill your North Node mission. Saturn shapes the structure and boundaries of your glow up. Saturn is strict, but it wants you to win long-term.

♅ Uranus: How you rebel, innovate, and liberate yourself to align with destiny. Uranus adds shocks, awakenings, and unique genius to your path. Where you’ll stand out or change the game.

♆ Neptune: Where you’re asked to surrender, trust, and lean into higher wisdom. Neptune is mystical and creative; shows how you connect to your soul and the divine. Your dream world, psychic downloads, and divine inspiration.

♇ Pluto: Where your soul is reborn. Pluto reveals what you must let go of to rise into your North Node purpose and the intense transformation you’re destined for.

Bonus planets & asteroids:

⚜️ Chiron -> This shows a deep soul wound that activates your purpose. You teach what you’ve had to heal. Chiron brings pain, but also wisdom, empathy, and soul medicine.

🌟 Vertex -> Major turning points, people, and destiny doors. The Vertex shows where fate intervenes to push you into alignment with your North Node. Often triggered in relationships or key events.

💫 POF -> This is your joy code. When you’re aligned with your North Node, this area brings abundance, happiness, and natural success. It’s what feels “meant to be.” When you're vibing here, blessings chase you.

🌑 Lilith -> Lilith shows where you’re unapologetic, wild, and magnetic but also where you’ve been shamed or silenced. In the NN chart, she tells you what taboos you’re meant to own and liberate through.

🌸 NN -> This is your destiny energy. The sign = what you must become. The house = where your soul work plays out. In the NN Persona Chart, everything else supports this journey. This whole chart is the personality of your purpose.

Here are some PLACEMENTS/OBSERVATIONS:

💡: NN 5H -> You aren't meant to play the background. You came to SLAY, create, and have fun. Stop dimming your light. You are the main character so act like it.

💡: Venus conjunct NN -> Your glow up is directly tied to self-love, beauty, and maybe bagging a rich boo. Luxury is your birthright so manifest it.

💡: Mar square NN -> You're impulsive af sometimes and it blocks your blessings. Slow down and stop trying to fight the universe every other week.

💡: Chiron 1H -> Oof...identity wounds. You've been hurt for just being you. But healing that? That's how you become unstoppable.

💡; Lilith 10H -> Corporate people beware. You were born to intimidate the industry. Your power makes people nervous. Own it.

💡: Jupiter trine NN -> You got favor. Period. Doors fly open when you're walking in your purpose. Just don't get cocky and forget to do the work.

💡: NN Scorpio 12H -> Whew. You came to transform from the inside out. Psychic as hell, probably emotionally intense. Go meditate and mind your business.

💡: Sun opposite NN -> You might be stuck on your comfort zone and ego right now, but once you align with your soul mission = ICON status.

💡: Mercury sextile NN -> That mouthpiece is going to take you far; speak, write, tweet, teach. Your words shift timelines, boo.

💡: POF 9H -> Blessings come when you travel, teach, or get spiritual. Baby, book the flight or start that blog because it's giving "rich abroad."

💡: Moon square NN -> You cling to comfort like a weighted blanket. Let it go. That growth you're dodging? It's where your power at.

💡: Saturn conjunct NN -> You're not here for the easy route. Your blessings are locked behind discipline and delayed gratification. But when it hits, its' boss level.

💡: Sun 6H -> Your glow up requires structure, daily habits, and actually clocking in to your purpose. Can't manifest millions if your life isn't organized.

💡: Mars 12H -> You fight silent battles like a warrior monk. Your power activates in private. People underestimate you, then gag.

💡: Lilith 11H -> You're here to lead the weirdos, rebels, and people with vision. But don't let society silence you. You're the trendsetter.

💡: Saturn 10H -> You're building an empire from scratch. It's giving "slow grind to legacy." Your name will be remembered, but you gotta earn it.

💡: Uranus opposite NN -> You keep fighting your path because you crave freedom. But guess what? Freedom is the path, just on the other side of discomfort.

💡: Chiron 4H -> Your roots were rocky af, but you're here to break the cycle and build a soft, safe life. You are the generational shift.

💡: Moon 9H -> Your intuition guides you toward expansion. When you trust your gut and take risks, whole new worlds open up.

💡: POF 7H -> That dream relationship is tied to your destiny bag. Soulmate love = divine alignment + coin boosts. Pick the right one.

I will be posting more about the NN Persona Chart on my Patreon. So subscribe my lovelies or you can purchase the post separately.

thealchemistbae © do not copy, redistribute, or edit my content.

If you enjoyed this post, you can leave me a tip via PayPal at goddessguapa@gmail.com or via Venmo @goddessguapa. Thank you.

[princessaffirms]

HOW REAL IS reality? is reality ALWAYS SUBJECTIVE? 🫧✨

the NEUROSCIENCE of reality shifting/law of assumption

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

in reality shifting/law of assumption, we often say that the 3D CIRCUMSTANCES don’t matter because reality is subjective and everyone’s reality is their own individual, unique experience of reality. but is there any scientific truth to that?

this post discusses scientific evidence that reality is EXPERIENCED, not just observed.

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

🌸✨ objectivity in science vs lived reality

in research, objectivity often means getting MULTIPLE OBSERVERS to agree (ex. in inter-rater reliability). if two people observe the same behavior in an experiment and record it similarly, it’s seen as “objective.”

but that doesn’t necessarily mean we’re accessing a pure, external truth.

we’re accessing SHARED SUBJECTIVITY: perspectives that just happen to align (o’connell, 2012).

even in science, reality is INTERPRETED, never just received.

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

🌸✨ the brain is WIRED for SUBJECTIVE REALITY

neuroscientist riccardo fesce (2020) argues that subjectivity isn’t ADDED later by consciousness — it’s BUILT into the way your brain processes information from the START.

emotional and motivational relevance is part of how sensory data is processed

the hippocampus contextualizes this info: where you were, how it felt, what it meant

that processed, personal experience becomes your reality

^ you can literally see this in fesce’s diagram, where DATA BECOMES personal experience through neural pathways connecting the hippocampus, limbic system, and associative cortices!

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

🌸✨ subjectivity is not a flaw. it’s the FRAMEWORK!

this isn’t just one researcher’s theory. other experts agree:

• feinberg (1997) showed that internal (subjective) and external (objective) perspectives of consciousness are mutually IRREDUCIBLE.

BASICALLY: you can’t FULLY explain the inner experience just by describing brain activity.

• bajic et al. (2021) revealed how alzheimer’s patients shift into more INTERNALLY constructed realities.

BASICALLY: this means that reality is ALWAYS, in part, a mental construction, and it changes as brain states change.

take this quote for instance:

“Even though we cannot perceive reality as an objective truth, as we always make our personal version of reality … this apparent objectivity cannot be characterized as dealing with things-out-there, as independent of mental contents-in-here” (Bajic et al., 2021).”

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

🌸✨ so WHAT does this MEAN for shifting + law of assumption?

it means you’re not imagining things when you say “i create my reality.”

you LITERALLY do.

you’re not being delusional, you’re being deliberate.

science BACKS UP what your soul already KNOWS:

your consciousness filters, colors, and chooses what BECOMES real.

you shift realities not by forcing the world to change, but by CHANGING how YOU contextualize, interpret, and assign meaning to it.

and that process happens neurologically and energetically (your thoughts + emotions literally carry energy!)

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

🌸✨ FINAL THOUGHTS

science doesn’t cancel your power. it CONFIRMS your role as the one who chooses the lens through which YOU view your reality. neuroscience shows that your brain CONSTRUCTS your perception of reality, not reality itself. it filters what you experience based on your beliefs, focus, and assumptions.

but it’s your consciousness, your SOUL, that chooses the reality in the first place. the brain just processes the version of reality you’ve aligned yourself with. it’s not the creator, just the interpreter.

you are the operant power. you choose the lens, the identity, the timeline. your brain and body simply respond to what your awareness has already declared as TRUTH.

you are the observer, the chooser, AND the experiencer.

　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖

🫧✨ SOURCES

• Bajic, V., Jukic, M. M., & Bajic, M. B. (2021). Alzheimer’s and consciousness: How much subjectivity is objective? Neuroscience Insights, 16, 26331055211034912. https://doi.org/10.1177/26331055211034912

• Feinberg, T. E. (1997). The irreducible perspectives of consciousness. Seminars in Neurology, 17(2), 129–137. https://doi.org/10.1055/s-2008-1040917

• Fesce, R. (2020). Subjectivity as an emergent property of information processing by neuronal networks. Frontiers in Neuroscience, 14, 579000. https://doi.org/10.3389/fnins.2020.579000

• O’Connell, M. (2012). Subjective reality, objective reality, modes of relatedness, and therapeutic action. Journal of Analytic Psychology, 45(3), 391–410. https://doi.org/10.1002/j.2167-4086.2000.tb00581.x

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✨ NOTE: i recognize that not everyone reading these posts may come from a scientific background, or even desire to dive into the full technical details of the neuroscience mechanisms and topics discussed. for that reason, the content of these posts are intentionally simplified to make the core ideas more accessible, while still staying true to the scientific literature referenced.

if you’re interested in a deeper dive, i HIGHLY recommend giving the original papers a read! i always cite them at the end of each post 🫶 additionally, while i integrate scientific findings into these posts, my overall discussion remains interpretive and spiritually oriented, reflecting the bridge between neuroscience research and manifestation philosophy, as well as expressing the correlations i observed between the two.

i write about the relationship between science and manifestation with the intention of providing clarity and reassurance regarding these topics, but please remember that you do not necessarily NEED physical proof in the traditional scientific sense (experiment, statistical analysis, etc.) in order to manifest. you ARE the proof! reality is subjective, and your experience of reality is purely your own.✨

furthermore, there are many inherent limitations to science itself as a means of measurement and explanation. it cannot measure the spiritual, and it certainly cannot measure every individual’s subjective reality experience. given this, i strongly (but lovingly!) urge you to refrain from seeking a post about conventional evidence (in the scientific sense) of shifting/manifestation, because you simply won’t find it. and that’s okay! science and spirituality go hand in hand. they are two sides of the same coin that is reality.

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i hope this post brought you some insight, reassurance and clarification! 🥹✨

sending so much love and light <3