#finger palmistry

[lineologyglobal]

What is Finger Palmistry? Discover the Significance and Symbolism of Each Finger

Finger palmistry has become a hot topic recently. In the same way that palm reading reliably predicts a person’s personality, character, and future. The third level of palmistry is finger palmistry, which focuses on concerns of the heart or personality.

Finger length and fingerprint patterns can also predict a person’s future in terms of marriage, work, and other variables. In palmistry, each finger has different personality qualities that may be utilised to compare and contrast the individual’s uniqueness. While reading palms, four unique finger forms are highlighted: square, pointed, conic, and spatulated.

To know more just visit : What is Finger Palmistry? Discover the Significance and Symbolism of Each Finger

[reallytoosublime]

On the palm of your hand, nestled just below the little finger, lies a mysterious and often perplexing marking, one that bears a striking resemblance to a star or a cross. In the realm of palmistry, this peculiar sign has long been associated with an intriguing set of beliefs and interpretations. In this video, I'll discuss the real mystic of star or cross signs on your little finger. Let's dive into the video and learn more about the secrets of the star or cross signs on your little finger.

The presence of a star or cross sign beneath your little finger is said to symbolize a complex path in life, marked by confusion and self-made errors. Those who bear this sign are believed to be prone to making a series of unfortunate decisions that may later lead to regrets and a sense of disillusionment. It's as if the crossroads of destiny are entangled with their journey, making each choice a delicate balancing act.

One prevailing piece of advice that often accompanies this unique marking is the caution against parting with your money. It is believed that individuals with such a sign should exercise prudence and avoid lending or giving their finances to others, as doing so may lead to financial troubles or exploitation.

However, there is a glimmer of hope amidst this intricate tapestry of interpretations. An age-old remedy passed down through generations, suggests a simple solution to counteract the potential challenges associated with the star or cross sign. It is recommended that those with this marking offer salty food to a needy woman on a Wednesday. This act of kindness is believed to help balance the karmic scales and mitigate the negative effects of the sign.

#palmreading#palmistry#handreading#astrology#crosssignsexplained#starsingsexplained#astrologists#psychic#fingershape#xsignonpalm#readyourpalm#crosssigninpalmistry#mysticcrossmeaning#xsignpalmmeaning

[youtubemarketing1234]

On the palm of your hand, nestled just below the little finger, lies a mysterious and often perplexing marking, one that bears a striking resemblance to a star or a cross. In the realm of palmistry, this peculiar sign has long been associated with an intriguing set of beliefs and interpretations. In this video, I'll discuss the real mystic of star or cross signs on your little finger. Let's dive into the video and learn more about the secrets of the star or cross signs on your little finger.

The presence of a star or cross sign beneath your little finger is said to symbolize a complex path in life, marked by confusion and self-made errors. Those who bear this sign are believed to be prone to making a series of unfortunate decisions that may later lead to regrets and a sense of disillusionment. It's as if the crossroads of destiny are entangled with their journey, making each choice a delicate balancing act.

One prevailing piece of advice that often accompanies this unique marking is the caution against parting with your money. It is believed that individuals with such a sign should exercise prudence and avoid lending or giving their finances to others, as doing so may lead to financial troubles or exploitation.

However, there is a glimmer of hope amidst this intricate tapestry of interpretations. An age-old remedy passed down through generations, suggests a simple solution to counteract the potential challenges associated with the star or cross sign. It is recommended that those with this marking offer salty food to a needy woman on a Wednesday. This act of kindness is believed to help balance the karmic scales and mitigate the negative effects of the sign.

In conclusion, the star or cross sign beneath your little finger is a symbol of life's complexities and the consequences of decisions made. While it may foretell challenges and pitfalls, the ancient tradition of offering help to the less fortunate offers a ray of hope in navigating the intricate journey of life. So, as you bear this mark, remember to tread carefully, make thoughtful choices, and extend a helping hand when you can. Wishing you a harmonious and balanced journey in life.

#palmreading#palmistry#handreading#astrology#crosssignsexplained#starsingsexplained#astrologists#psychic#fingershape#xsignonpalm#readyourpalm#crosssigninpalmistry#mysticcrossmeaning#xsignpalmmeaning

[drenched-in-sunlight]

i will raise hell to the bitter end.

I don’t think Messmer visits the jar clinic in his Keep often… they remind him too much of his Mother.

Btw, he wears a golden ring on the middle finger of his left hand…

in Palmistry, that indicates responsibility, balance, justice. usually it’s sth the head of the family wear, but no other characters wear sth like that. he’s truly the sole heir to all of Marika’s happiness & all of her pain.

[kyoghurts]

between lines and lips. | reo mikage

slightly suggestive. reader can do palmistry and ... mind reading. reo is an absolute tease.

reo sputtered out a laugh, something between in amusement and disbelief. "you can read my…what?"

you huff, a deadpan expression on your face that leaves him supressing the urge to tease. "i can read the lines on your hand."

he pulls back a grin, one that is stupidly obvious to you that it takes him a second to breathe in, gently place his pen on the study table and indulge in your (silly) little antics. "hmm, really? you can do palmistry?"

you nod as if it's a matter of fact. you reach out for his hand without hesitation and reo opens his palm, watching as you examine the lines by tracing them with your fingers. your eyes flicker to every part, unaware of certain eyes that are set on you.

all the while he's there enjoying every second of it, his other hand rests against his chin, an eyebrow raised in question. he lets you have this, because then if he gets this chance of just spending his time admiring you in peace, then he wouldn't mind at all. it puts him in a daze for when his gaze lingers a little too long on your lips. he's staring at it right now, almost lost in it with the way a miniscule pout reveals itself to life.

it takes a lot more from him to simply gaze at it than take action, he wonders what it must to be to capture them with his, the thought spreads a faint ache of yearning in his chest.

and he wishes so bad that you didn't have to break the spell too soon, too soon as you clear your throat, the hint of surprise on his face is quite hard to miss.

"it says here…" the brilliance in your eyes is captivating, so is your voice thickly laced with playfulness, your teeth cutely peeking out. "you are an idiot, reo mikage."

he breaks into a snort. “tell me something i don’t know” your name on his lips, uttered in his lilting voice.

“It’s good that you’re self aware.” you grab an eraser, removing the error in your writing. subtle in your way of pretending that your heart hasn’t done somersaults yet. Subtle in ways but you’re actually just trying so hard not to show it, oh you won’t hear the end of it from him if he knew.

"can you do mind reading too?"

your movments came to an abrupt stop, the way you look at him (incredulous and at a loss for words) would have anyone shy away and rub their necks and cut it off with "kidding!". but this is reo, he does not back down, no matter how ridiculous things are. he leans in and—for a moment you thought he was going to kiss you—rests his chin on his hand and remained silent.

"i…" you try to speak, although it astonishes you how small your voice is, your mouth opens but closes a few times like a fish out of breath.

and then you glare. who the hell does he think he is?

"i do." you say it with conviction.

(…or have you?). "go for it then." his eyes never wandering off from you, as if to lock you in place. "i'll give you a whole pack of matcha kitkats later if you get this right."

you spit strings of curses within. this isn't a joke anymore.

"okay well-"

"take your time."

you sucked a breath.

unbelievable. your head attempts to snatch at least a clue or two of what might possibly be plaguing his mind as of the moment. you hear a car faintly roaring in the distance, quick as it comes and goes. you blink, he doesn't. you swear his smile will be the death of you, it is actively killing you to the point that you had to gulp down as you let yourself slip into glancing at his lips—as quick as it goes—just like the vehicle that passed by.

"is it…" you couldn't catch up to what you're saying. your mouth having a mind of its own. "…me?"

he leans dangerously close, his stare devouring you whole. "yes. you. and?"

"…and?"

his gaze drops down almost immediately towards your…well…

you match his action, whispering, heart hammering in your chest. "reo, just do it"

"do what?" a breathless chuckle, it's too much for you

"god you're—"

without finishing your sentence, his lips had crashed yours in a rush, it tastes sweet, frustratingly yet addictively so. reo had been mean, that much he knows, so he makes up for it now in this quiet moment. he pulls you closer, one hand cradling your head and the other on your chin. 'yes, i'm insufferable' it almost seemed like a compliment for him, and he feels incredibly greedy. ‘tell me i am, tell me you hate me, tell me you can't stand my presence and yet look like you don't want to be anywhere but near me.’

at some point your hands searched for the nape of his neck, desperate to close the remaining distance, the warmth of bodies intoxicating you. and his lips, soft against yours, are a stark contrast to the way he roughly holds you, with every bated breath every time you pull away. as he pants and eye you hungrily, you soon come to realize he's been yearning for this just as much as you do.

the kiss lingers in the air, leaving both of you breathless and wide-eyed. reo's eyes, once filled with a mischievous glint, now hold a fervent desire. As he pulls away, a smug grin plays on his lips, and you're left staring at him in a mix of surprise and confusion.

"matcha kitkats, well-earned," he mutters, still close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. you bite your lips in anticipation.

"are you always this insufferable?" you quip, trying to regain some composure.

he chuckles, a low and satisfying. "only for you."

reo leans in again, not for another kiss, but to whisper in your ear.

"mind reading is a dangerous game, isn't it?"

His voice tickles your ears, you're sure your face is entirely red by now, you find yourself nodding in agreement.

you both exchange glances, it seemed as if you truly had the ability to read reo's mind, because the longer you held your gaze, the more you knew what he's trying to tell you, and you know your silence screams you share the same thought.

"maybe I should leave the mind reading to you," reo suggests while brushing his thumb against your cheeks, "and focus on more… tangible activities."

it's all clear to you, and a flush of warmth spreads across your cheeks. the promise of a pack of matcha kitkats suddenly feels insignificant compared to the uncharted territory that lies ahead.

"won't you tell me, dear reo, what're these tangible activities that you speak of?"

notes. HOO lord im done JHAJAKWJQJAS I LOVE REO SM i'll be cosplaying him at this convention tmrw im very nervous cos my best friend (whos supposed to be my nagi) couldn't go + i'll be meeting my blue lock cosgroup i barely know anyone there aaaaaaaa ;-;

© kyoghurts ★ reblogs & likes are well appreciated!

[deepcreekvultures-writing]

"Tequila and Palmistry"

Spencer Reid x Drunk!Reader

Words: 4,754

Tags: Drunken Flirting, Spencer Reid Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Spencer Reid takes care of drunk reader, Spencer Reid Ranting, Mentions of Violence, Spencer Reid's hands, I Love Spencer Reid, Feelings, Idiots in Love, Drunk Reader, Early Seasons Spencer (S1/Early S2)

After a tough case where you were almost killed by the unsub, the team decides to go to the bar and unwind. While there, Spencer ends up having to keep you from going off the deep end.

==========

Watching you drink was like watching an Olympic sprinter in their prime. You were slamming shots back like they were nothing as soon as the team got to the bar. 

The last case was particularly intense for you, considering you fit the unsubs target perfectly. No one batted an eye at you nursing yourself with alcohol.

Except Spencer.

He had attempted to say something after your fourth shot, but Morgan placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered a soft “Let her have this, kid.” 

After your sixth shot of tequila, you moved on to tequila sunrises, which you went through like water. Gideon finally put his foot down after your third sunrise, instructing you to make the fourth last because you were being cut off.

Luckily for Gideon, you weren’t a mean drunk.

Spencer was surprised at how peppy you were under the influence. During cases, you kept your guard up, letting loose just a little when you were alone with Spencer, but you always kept it at arm's length.

At some point, you slid your glass into Spencer’s hand, grabbing Elle and Penelope by the wrists and pulling them to the center of the bar to dance. He glances down at the glass in confusion before looking up at Hotch and Morgan. Hotch smiles to himself, sipping on his beer, while Morgan whistles playfully.

“She trusts you with her drink, Pretty Boy. That’s an accomplishment.” 

“Actually, this bar invests in straws that are able to detect whether or not Rohypnol or any other drugs are in the drink.” Spencer responds, still keeping the glass in his grasp.

“I’m sure she’s too slammed to notice, Reid.” Derek chuckles in response.

“This is a one-time deal; next time we go out together, we have to make sure she doesn’t go off the rails like this again.” Hotch sighs, glancing over at you, dancing with Elle and Penelope, who are more focused on making sure you don’t fall. Gideon grabs his jacket, sliding it on.

“It was a hard case for her; she needs to let off some steam. Why aren’t you drinking anyway?” Morgan asks, leaning over to Spencer.

“I don’t really drink.” Spencer shrugs, flicking his finger against the smooth of the glass. His eyes trained on the straw in your cup. As much as he wanted to convince himself that you gave him your drink on purpose, it was just too unlikely for him to really dwell on it. 

Except he did dwell on it. 

His eyes slid over to you. Your hair fell over your face as you danced around, your features illuminated by the dim lighting, and your soft eyes shone as you smiled. Spencer isn’t sure how to feel about you being so drunk. 

On one hand, you were pretty much catatonic after your interaction with the unsub. You sat next to him in the jet, staring down at your dirt-covered hands, completely still for the almost 3-hour flight.

On the other hand, he knew you were only drinking to try and get the awful taste out of your mouth. The terrible twisting of your stomach that caused you to dry-heave in the jet’s lavatory for half an hour before takeoff. 

Gideon stands from his place at the end of the booth; he rounds the table and leans down to speak with Spencer. “You’re in charge of her.” 

All Spencer can do is nod, as Gideon leaves quickly after with not much more than a wave. But as you made your way back to the table, somehow finding your way between Reid and Morgan in the booth, he couldn’t help but feel relief.

He handed you the drink, and you took a small sip before turning your whole body towards him and looking him directly in the eyes. 

“Did you try it?” You asked seriously.

“No- No, I didn’t.” Spencer shakes his head, embarrassment tinting his cheeks.

“Whaat??” You pulled back, your face contorting into stern confusion. “You have to try it, now—here, here.” 

You held it out to him, your fingers delicately holding the straw for him.

Ignoring the snickers from the others, Spencer leans in and takes a small sip. The tequila burns, but it’s rounded out nicely by the sweetness of the grenadine and the soft tart flavor of the orange juice.

Clearing his throat, Spencer speaks, “Originally, tequila sunrises contained tequila, lime juice, soda water, and créme de cassis when it was initially invented at the Arizona Biltmore Hotel in the 30s or 40s.”

You stared at him as he spoke, wide-eyed with your lips slightly parted. You blinked a few times, eyebrows furrowing as you tried to follow what he was saying.

“The modern tequila sunrise was popularized in the 70s by the Rolling Stones when they were kicking off their tour at a bar in Sausalito, California.” You nodded slowly at his explanation, your lips pulling into a bright smile as you set your cup down on the table. 

He didn’t really think you understood that. But your face shone like the first burst of light at dawn, waking the morning flowers from the chill of night.

His face warms, looking away from you to glance around the bar. Morgan taps your shoulder, grabbing your attention. Using his hands to shield your ear, he whispers something to you, causing you to break out into a fit of loud giggles. Derek shushes you, laughing along.

Your hands find your face as you slump back into the booth, muffling your laughter into your palms. After laughing for a good five minutes, you drop your hands into your lap. Your face was flushed, your eyes moist with laughter-filled tears. Your lips are pulled into a bright, sloppy smile, your teeth shining against the dull light of the bar. A few strands of hair fell into your face.

Derek looked proud of himself, shooting Spencer with a knowing look. Gesturing to you, mouthing ‘go for it’.

Spencer ignores him, looking around the bar in an attempt to ignore the flushed beauty beside him. But you turn, grabbing his arm. 

“Spencer,” You shake him a bit, trying to get his attention. He was already looking at you, but you shook him anyway. “Spencer, Spencer, where’s Gideon?”

“Uhm, he left a few minutes ago.” 

“Oh, boo, how lame." You pout, your hand still firmly holding Spencer’s bicep. You turn your head, eyeing your drink. A grin creeps slowly onto your face.

“Don’t get any ideas. You’re still cut off.” Hotch interjects, noticing the way you were eyeing your glass. 

You deflate immediately, slumping into the seat, your hands falling into your lap as you pout. Spencer watches you, a little amused but ultimately concerned with your shift in mood.

After letting you stew for a minute, Spencer turns to you, clearing his throat before opening his mouth to speak. He falters, however, when he sees your face. 

Your bottom lip juts out, glistening under the light and drawing his eyes. Downcast eyes steal his attention from your lips, leading him to your upturned palms. Your pout melts into a deep frown, your inebriated brain feeding the memories of what happened just 5 hours ago.

“Uhm,” Spencer starts, leaning over to point at your hands, “have you heard of palm reading?” His voice is unsure, wavering a little as you look up at him.

You both nod and shake your head, your eyes widening a little as he pulls you out of your thoughts. Putting your hands down on the seat, you push yourself up, giving Spencer your full attention. You stare at him for a second before scrambling to show him your hands again.

“It’s also called palmistry or chiromancy, and it’s unknown where it originated exactly.” Spencer bites his lip, glancing down at your palms. “But it has ties to a lot of eastern cultures.” 

“Like where?” You ask, your voice insistent.

“Indian, Tibetan, Chinese, Nepali, Persian, Babylonian, Canaan, Sumer, and Arabian cultures have history with palm reading.” He lists, watching as you slowly tilt your head down, trying to follow his words. Your eyes never leave his face, squinting slightly as his words slip in one ear and out the other.

Deciding to just keep talking rather than waiting for you to speak, Spencer continues, “Palm reading uses the natural creases in the flesh of your palms to predict things about your life and personality.” 

Spencer hesitates before placing his left hand underneath yours, settling his palm against the back of your hands. Chewing on his bottom lip, he uses his right hand to map out your palms. His index finger hovers, making sure not to touch the lightly calloused skin.

“Are my palms-” You lean a little closer, your eyes wide as your gaze flicks between his face and your hands. “Are my palms whispering to you?”

You were whispering to him—well, more like mumbling. Spencer furrows his eyebrows, leaning back a bit.

“Are your- are they what?” He stammers, a smile threatening to pull at the corners of his lips. You giggle, letting your head fall forward and rest in your open hands. You stay like that for a second to let it out before lifting your head again.

“You’re so cute, Dr. Reid.” A heavy sigh follows that statement, along with a sloppy grin. Before Spencer has the opportunity to flounder in response, you continue, “What were we talking about?”

“Um... Palm Reading?” His slender fingers tap against the back of your hands mindlessly.

You purse your lips, squinting your eyes just a smidge before smiling again. 

“Okay, okay, keep telling me about it." You scoot a little closer, folding one of your legs under you, your knee knocking against his thigh. “Please?”

Your face was still flushed, though Spencer wasn’t sure if it was from the tequila that still lingered on your breath or from the fact that you were sitting so close to him.

“Oh, yeah- yeah, sure…” He bites at his bottom lip, looking back down at your palms. “So... the main lines used for palmistry are the life line, the heart line, the fate line, and the head line…” 

Spencer continues talking, making sure to keep his gaze cast down to your hands as he explains what people look for when reading palms. You stayed quiet, and he was almost positive that you weren’t listening; honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if you had fallen asleep. 

He maps out each line for you after thoroughly explaining what each of them meant. Spencer didn’t really believe in palmistry or astrology, but he had to admit that so far it was pretty accurate.

Especially when your life line described you as enthusiastic and courageous. 

That was one of the many things Spencer admired about you. You had no qualms about being who you wanted to be, and it gave him the confidence to do the same.

Though sometimes you had a hard time remembering that about yourself.

“…and your heart line tells us about your cardiac health, possible depression, emotional stability, and, um… and romantic perspectives.” Spencer swallows, his shoulders slightly hunched as he looks intently at your palms. You straighten up, drawing his eyes to your face. 

Your lips parted, your eyes holding excitement as you looked down at your own palms. Glancing up at him and meeting his eyes, you smile, the tip of your tongue fitting between your teeth. 

“Keep going.” You whisper, nodding at him incessantly. Spencer pauses, unable to tear away from the light shine in your eyes, illuminated by the warm lighting hanging from the rafters of the bar.

“…your- your heart line, um,” he stumbles over his words, snapping his head back down to look at the crease in the fleshy part of your palm. “Your heart line begins in between your middle and index fingers, and it’s straight and parallel to your head line.”

Spencer finally presses the pad of his finger into your palm, dragging it along the crease as he talks. He still cradles your hand lightly with his other, his thumb absentmindedly sliding against your knuckles.

“Mm, what does it mean?” You ask sloppily, your articulation faltering.

“It means that you are... caring and understanding.” He slides his finger back to where the line begins, noticing how your fingers twitch. “And that you have a good handle on your emotions.” At that, you laugh, gently bumping your head against his as you do.

“Doesn’t feel like it.” You mumble, your head partially sliding against his as you slump into him. Spencer stiffens at the contact.

“Sorry, ‘m tired,” You wiggle your fingers, attempting to draw his attention back to your hands. 

“So, like- does it say anything about who I’m gonna… marry?” 

“No- uhm, no, not who.” Spencer swallows; the weight of your head dropping onto his shoulder scrambles his thoughts. “But the marriage line is here.” He slides his finger to the small line underneath your pinky.

“It’s pretty straight, which means that you’ll have a long, happy marriage.” 

You hum in acknowledgment, looking down briefly at your palms before turning your hands over and wrapping your hands around his. Spencer looks up, making eye contact with Elle, who mouths a ‘wow’ before sipping her drink. 

His attention is drawn back to you as you drag yourself off of him haphazardly. You turn his hands, exposing his own palms as you lean down, hunching over them to get a closer look. 

There is almost no way you could even see the lines in his palms very well, considering that your head was blocking the lights. 

Lifting your head suddenly, Spencer has to pull back to avoid getting smacked in the face. 

“This line probably means that you’re suuper smart and stuff,” you say, tapping his head line with your pinky. “And this line probably says that you’re really cute, and this line probably says that you’re like… I dunno, a little silly." You alternate tapping at his different lines. You were trying—kind of. 

Spencer’s face grows hot, swallowing hard and trying to remind himself that this was just you, completely inebriated and not thinking straight.

“Silly?” He raises his eyebrows, watching your face with concern.

“Uhuh, silly. Like… like… I don’t know; you’re just silly. And gorgeous.” You look down at his hands and say, “And you have really pretty hands.”

Spencer stares at you, his mouth gaping like a fish as his eyes slide around your features. 

You blinked slowly, your hands sliding against his as you fidget with his slender fingers. 

“Oh!” You exclaimed way too loudly for the small bar. You pull yourself away from him, the force with which you do so causes you to tilt back and fall into Morgan. 

Spencer scrambles to grab your forearms, pulling you off of Morgan. “Are- are you okay?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“You don’t like it when people touch you!” You attempt to wiggle yourself out of his grip, failing despite how loose his hold was.

A deep pout rests on your lips, and you look up at him guiltily.

“No, it’s fine.” He tries to still you, embarrassed by your antics. “It’s okay; you’re fine, I don’t mind. Let's get you home, okay?”

“Huh?? No, no, I’m having so much funn” You flounder, slumping yourself into the seat in protest. You start to slide off the booth seat, your lower body disappearing under the table. 

Spencer stammers, hooking his arms around yours and attempting to keep you from slipping to the floor.

“Woah, no, come on, I’ll take you home and I can teach you how to read my palms?” He pulls on your arms, looking over at Morgan, who lends a hand by wrapping an arm around your torso and pulling you back onto the seat. Morgan snickers, but leaves Spencer to handle your state of unrest.

“I already know enough about you, gorgeous-genius-doctor-boy, but can’t you dance with me?” You whine, Spencer’s arms are still hooked around you to keep you from slipping away again.

“I- well… No- no, not here, we can dance at your apartment?” he suggests, gently pulling you out of the booth.

You let him pull you, offering little help until he forces you to stand. Staring up at him with a pouty glare, you huff, the gears turning in your head.

“Promise?” You hold out your pinky, wiggling it at him. 

He relents, hooking his pinky around yours. You smile, latching your finger around his in a tight grip.

“Okay! Bye losers!” You shout at the rest of the table, unceremoniously dragging Spencer away. He attempts to grab his bag from the booth, but your grip is too tight. 

Elle manages to toss it to him, his hands fumbling to get a good grip on it as he’s wrenched through the exit of the bar.

“Wait, slow down!” He yelps, shoulder-checking the door as you tug him down the stairs.

“Come on, pretty boy, relax!” You laugh

“Do you even know where you’re going?”

“Northbound.” You say, deepening your voice and pointing to your right.

“That’s east.” Using his free hand, Spencer spins you to face him. “We’re calling a cab.”

You scoff, letting go of his pinky finally as you flail your arms at your sides.

“No, what, no- no, no, no, I’m not getting buried again, Spencer." You whine, the weight of your words slipping off your shoulders, numbed by the tequila in your system.

Spencer frowns, his eyebrows raising slightly as he looks at you. Your loosened, drunken state could only mask your worries to some extent.

“You won’t be buried; I’m with you,” he says, placing his hands on your biceps.

“But you could get hurt... and I don’t wanna see your gorgeous face and body all... like... dead." Your articulation slips, words blending together. Tapping the tip of his nose with the side of your finger, you pout, shuffling your weight from foot to foot.

“I won’t die; I’m gonna get you home, and then you’re going to bed-“ A hand slaps over his mouth, a little harder than necessary.

“We’re dancing.” You say sternly, rubbing his mouth with your palm, when you realize that you hit him harder than intended. 

“Okay- okay, stop-stop doing that,” He grabs your wrist, pulling your hand to the side. “I’m gonna get you home, and then we’ll dance.” 

Pleased, you hum lightly, closing your eyes. “Let’s do it, honey bee.” 

Spencer ignores the churning in his stomach as he leads you along the sidewalk. Your hand slides around his body as you circle around him. Up and down his chest, around his waist, and up his spine. It was dizzying how well you were circling him despite the alcohol coursing through your system. You only stumbled once or twice, grabbing onto him each time to steady yourself.

Spencer was having a hard time keeping it together; it was already hard enough keeping his feelings to himself day to day when you acted like a normal person. Drunk you was making everything way harder. He wondered if he told you exactly how he felt if you would remember.

You weren’t acting completely blacked out drunk, and Spencer had never seen you like this before. He was just glad you were a nice drunk. And mildly manageable.

He was very glad that your apartment was on the ground floor; he didn’t have to worry about getting you up stairs. You stood next to Spencer, your right hand against the white door, as you fumbled with your keys in your left. Pouting down at the object, you let out an annoyed huff, tilting your head to the side and squinting at the ring of keys.

“Who needs this many keys?” You grumbled, letting your fingers go slack as Spencer takes the keys from you. 

“You, apparently.” Spencer smiles, finding your door key and unlocking the door. He ushers you inside, his hand finding its way to rest on your back, pretty much pushing you through the doorway.

Kicking your shoes off, you turn to Spencer “Shoes off, Cowboy, we can’t have my carpeting get all grody.” 

Spencer nods, smiling at the nickname but ultimately ignoring it. He takes off his shoes, setting his bag next to them, before straightening up and beelining to your kitchen. Opening each cabinet, he finally finds your cups. You stumble your way to lean on the counter next to him, pursing your lips at him.

“What’re you doing?” You ask, glaring at the cup in his hand as he fills it with water.

“Drink this,” Spencer holds it out to you. You just stare at it, pressing your lips into a thin line. “Please?” He sighs, pouting just a little. Your face lights up at his plea, your mouth falling open and your face flushing red.

"Spencer, you can’t do that, not fair.” You snatch the cup from him, chugging the water out of spite. Spencer watches you, his eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed together in confusion. 

Slamming the cup onto the counter, you hold up your arms, “Okay! Dance time, come here!”

Spencer is dragged back into the living room, your hands firmly grasping his wrists as you walk backwards. He watches your path for you, maneuvering you gently to avoid your coffee table. 

Dropping his arms, you bow sloppily with a giggle, “May I have this dance?”

He chuckles, offering an awkward bow in response as he fumbles over his words, “Yeah- sure… okay.” 

You laugh, sliding your hands down his forearms, your fingers brushing against the center of his palms. Curling your fingers around his, you lift his hands, tugging him closer.

He swallows the lump in his throat as his chest presses into yours. Spencer chews on his bottom lip as you settle his hands on your waist. You smelled like tequila, but the scent of your shampoo still lingered in close proximity. You smelled good—drunk, but good.

“No music?” He asks, clearing his throat as your arms wrap around his shoulders. 

“Nah, my head hurts." You shake your head, guiding him in a small sway. Spencer was a little worried that you were going to have him actually dance, but he was happy to sway along with you. 

Your apartment was dark, only lit by the weirdly bright fluorescent light from your kitchen. You giggled quietly to yourself as you swayed, finding it a little difficult to get him to move with you. His heart rate calms slowly as you both sway in silence. You had closed your eyes, threading your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, tracing small circles into his skin. It was nice.

The heat of your body against his fills him with warmth, and he can’t help but look away. His eyes training on the light switch a few feet away as he wills his face to not get any redder. Your touch simmered against him, the low burning embers of his feelings threatening to ignite in the dark space of your living room. 

But you were drunk, and there was very little he could do to rationalize your actions beyond that. If you weren’t completely inebriated, Spencer might consider the fact that you might like him too. 

“Spencer,” you call out to him softly, goading him into meeting your eyes again. He couldn’t help but notice the gravity added to your previously weightless tone.

“Yeah?” He whispers his reply, his eyes returning to your face. The swaying continues, offering a loosely followed rhythm to the conversation.

“How did you feel?” You mumble back, letting your head fall back slightly. You keep your eyes on his face, scanning his expression.

“How did... what feel?” 

“Watching me crawl out.” You let out a small huff, as if he were supposed to read your mind, “Like, how did it feel for you?” Spencer freezes, his hands tightening their grip on your waist.

It felt awful.

Watching you, his headstrong, kind, confident, and loving friend, crawl your way out of a freshly packed grave. Hands bound, tears soaking mud to your cheeks, clothing torn, a hateful fire in your eyes.

It felt awful.

Watching you grapple with the unsub, using your bindings as leverage to choke the man out before crumbling to the ground in tears.

It felt awful.

Watching you bottle it up, riding to the hospital in silence, only letting the team touch you despite the insistence of the doctors. 

It felt awful.

Washing off your dirt-covered hands in the jet with a small rag he had found, soaked in the cold water from the lavatory sink. 

It felt awful.

But Spencer couldn’t claim that awful feeling, knowing that you must feel so much worse. You fought and fought for those two days you were held captive, feeding into the unsubs delusion to keep yourself alive.

You were the one who was thrown into a six-foot-deep hole and buried alive.

He’s not sure how to answer your question, but you watch him patiently, your fingers gently sliding down his neck. 

“I… I don’t know, I was- I was scared, worried..." He whispers, his stomach churning with the thought that he shouldn’t burden you with the way he was feeling. 

“You were scared…” Mumbling, you tilt your head to the side, your lips pursing and twisting to the side. “Is it bad… that you being scared for me, makes it hurt less?” Your articulation is off, and your words are almost lost to him. Inhaling sharply, Spencer leans forward a bit, his arms circling around your back and flattening against your shirt. 

“No, no, it’s not bad... How did it feel for you?” He asks carefully, watching your face as it contorts in ten different ways. You sigh heavily, your arms loosely resting on his shoulders.

“It’s the worst thing... you fight and you fight, you do what you can to survive... and then you get thrown in a hole and smothered in the earth.” You pout, tilting your head to the side, fiddling with your fingers behind his head.

Spencer bites his lower lip, his eyebrows raising in concern. He watches your face, your eyes glossing over, staring into the pattern on his tie. 

“Spencer… I dunno what to do with myself…” You murmur, pulling yourself closer and resting your forehead on his shoulder.

Tilting his head, his cheek presses into your hair. His hands press into your shoulder blades, giving you an awkward squeeze. 

“…you don’t have to know; we can just take it one step at a time.” He speaks gently, letting his hand circle over your shoulder blade.

“Ugh… your mouth words are so gorgeous…” You mumble.

Spencer isn’t really sure what you mean, but he decides to take it at face value. “Thanks?” 

You lift your head, a frown etched on your lips. As you look up at Spencer, the frown dissolves into a small smile. The bright lighting coming from your kitchen illuminates the side of your face in stark contrast to the rest of the dark room. 

“You’re so gorgeous in your face too.” You slide your hands around to bracket his face, squishing it a little between your palms. Spencer’s face grows hot under the feeling of your hands, his eyes widening a bit.

“If you ever, like- I dunno, do you ever think- like, think about kissing me? Cause… if you do, you should kiss me.” Spencer goes to respond, but you slap your hand over his mouth again, rubbing his mouth soothingly afterwards.

“When I’m sober! When I’m sober so I can remember and stuff…” You take your hand off his mouth, sliding the tip of your finger down the bridge of his nose. 

“Oh- uhm… yeah okay." He nods, biting his lip anxiously. His eyes flutter close at your touch, the heat of his emotions burning at the apex of his cheekbones.

You smiled sloppily up at him, content with the plan you set in place, guiding him into swaying with you again. Your finger traces his features loosely, your muscles relaxing into his touch as you start to come down from your drunken high. Tiredness crawls its way up your spine, settling into your eyelids, and you find yourself having a hard time holding them open. 

“When I wake up...” You start, letting your eyes fall closed, “…when I wake up, don’t- don’t let me push you away.” 

Spencer smiles at that, laughing affectionately at your words.

“Okay.”

[toxintouch]

AIS: MOUNT OF VENUS

Relationship: Ais/Unspecified MC, relationship dynamic up to interpretation. (Ais caught feelings for sure.) CW: light bloodplay fantasy *squints* ✦Read on Ao3

The Mount of Venus is the part of the hand which is most biteable used in palmistry as a representation of family, desire, and love.

It takes him a few weeks to notice. He's wrapping his knuckles with bandages, covering skin newly cracked and bleeding and (thinking of you, how you must do the same ritual) bruised from another bar brawl.

He flips his hand over as he works, eyes following the winding pathway of gauze when he catches the silvery glint of a fresh scar against the skin of his palm.

He blinks at it, face blank as he searches his memories. The only altercations he's been in have been unfulfilling. The only damage that's been done to his body has been a result of his own flesh giving way beneath the force of his own blows. The last time anyone else even managed to make him bleed at all would have been…

He feels his fangs prodding against his lower lip as he grins. He's absolutely feral with the thought that you've marked him, the knowledge simmering hot and pleasant and wild in his gut.

He'll have to pay you back, he figures, fantasizing about just where on your skin might best bear the brunt of his teeth…

–(a thought comes bubbling up, unbidden, a more permanent way to mark you, hold you down and press a vial to your lips, let you bite into his fingers as he pries open your jaw, his red blood mixing with the  red red red of the sea spring, both pouring down your throat as he drags you down into His depths,)–

Ais huffs a breath into the emptiness stillness of the shrine surrounding him. Time has passed indeterminately. The air has shifted with the sobering cling of nightfall. He had a pot of tea brewing, but the results of his efforts are unusable, over steeped.

He pours the contents out.

  . . .

[ezekiel-krishna]

Do you have these signs on Your Hands?[Palmistry]

Indication of Happiness, Prosperity & Love Marriage

Cross On Jupiter Mount / Below Index Finger

If you have a cross on the mount of Jupiter, it means that you will attract true love and attention from the opposite sex. This usually indicates a happy marriage where you will support your partner through thick and thin. You will be blessed with a caring, understanding, and loving spouse who has a big and genuine heart.

Guardian Angel Line

The Guardian Angel line, which runs parallel to the lifeline, adds strength and protection to it. This means that you will receive constant help and support from your spouse, friends, family, relatives, or even unseen forces, which can be crucial in maintaining healthy relationships.

Curve Heartline towards Jupiter Mount

If your heart line is curved and goes to the Jupiter mount under the index finger, it shows that you have the ability to selflessly love and help others without expecting anything in return, regardless of the relationship. You are good at expressing your emotions and affections in an effective and honest way, which is important in building strong relationships.

Remember This is a General Analysis , Whole Palm & Vedic Chart are to be Analyze for Accurate Personalized Predictions.

For Paid Personalized Readings ➤ Refer Here

[thewitchywitch]

Palmistry 101

Alrighty y’all so this is the first informational post in my palmistry post series, where I share my personal notes and information I’ve gathered through experience as a semi-professional palmist. The first post, Palmistry 100, is available here if you’d like to read it.

This post will be a bit long, so everything is available under the cut!

Okay so the first thing we’ll cover is which hand to read. Short answer? We absolutely read both hands. We do this to get a more complete and full understanding of someone’s personality. The dominant hand shows the outward personality, actions, and what they’ve done with what they were given, sorta like the sun sign in astrology. The non-dominant hand shows the more inner workings, someone’s inclinations, and more of their way of thinking/reflections, sorta like the moon sign in astrology. Think conscious versus subconscious. So what do we do if someone is ambidextrous? First, I ask them which hand they default to when it comes to writing. Most of the time, they will tell you clearly. On the rare chance that someone says they write with both, check the flexibility of their thumb—the hand with the less flexible thumb is their dominant hand.

That’s cool, now we know to read both hands, now what? How do we study this before going out into the world offering our friends and families readings? Because that’s a lot of pressure. Slow down there tiger, you’ve probably got a long way before doing an in-person reading, especially for someone with a lot of questions. The best way to study palms can be broken down into 2.5 parts.

Number 1, take a print! All you need is some paper and ink. Cover your hand in ink (one at a time of course) and push firmly into the paper. If done correctly, you should be able to clearly see the lines in your hands and even your finger prints and palmar ridges. Here’s an example:

Prints are fantastic for learning, because not only are you able to clearly see the lines and use them as a reference for study, but now you have a print that you can use to compare your hands in the future, because a lot of the lines in your hands will change over time. Having a print allows you to take your time when studying and learning to read palms, much better than asking your curious mom to check her palms and then getting a borage of “What do you see?” and “What does that mean?”

Number 2, pictures! Phone cameras have come a very long way over the years, and most people are able to capture a fairly good image of someone’s palm. The reason this is less preferred than a print is because not only will some of the minor lines and the palmar ridges be basically invisible, but you also won’t be able to measure the fingers against each other (which we’ll get into in a different post). That being said, they’re still a great resource to have, especially if you’re not able to take a print for any variety of valid reasons.

2.5? 2.5 includes pictures of celebrity hands, which can be found accompanying readings from other palmists sometimes, just like is done with celebrity astrology. I would recommend to ignore the other palmist’s reading and just study the palms, especially of the dominant hand, and try to match your findings with the way said celebrity portrays themselves, especially in interviews. For example, Hillary Clinton has a simian line, which in short, makes a lot of sense for her based on her career in politics. Jim Carrey has a long ring finger, sometimes known as the Apollo finger, which is found in a lot of people drawn to being the star of the room, and some people in the public eye like actors and comedians (and I’m not just saying that). You can also find plenty, and I mean plenty, of palm pictures on reddit, specifically r/palmistry, which I will absolutely recommend to beginners as a studying resource once you learn a few things to pinpoint.

So we’ve identified some great ways to get your hands on some other hands, which is fantastic. Learning to read for strangers helps you to build you objectivity when reading—it removes bias from your readings, which sharpens your knowledge on the topic.

In the next post, we’ll begin the discussion on the major lines of the palms, which is where I usually start my readings.

[deusluxuria]

had an idea last night that abdul asked polnareff if he wanted to try a palm reading (even though abdul doesn't know much about palmistry), and during that he asks polnareff to close his eyes and that's when he slips a ring on his finger

[fairykazu]

palm reading ft. kaeya ⋆｡°✩

cws: pinning, lying (but for a good reason), kaeya pov, no knowledge of palm reading, i think awkward kaeya is really cute.

masterlist

how can someone reverse a lie they just told??

kaeya is the type of person who doesn't believe in superstition, walking around the world without the need of having the belief to something. however, you, on the other hand, believe in superstituion, hating when kaeya messes with you by opening an umbrella inside of a house and believing whatever mona spits out from her hydro vision glass thing. he just thinks you're super gullible. albeit, true.

earlier in the day when the both of you were at his apartment, you were hogging all the space on the couch, legs on top of kaeya's lap. he played around with your fingers while you were whining about how your palm reading person clocked out and resigned from doing the whole gig.

"i can't believe viridescent-" the astrologist you paid for to get your readings; they go under the name viridescent. "- bailed out on me like that! they usually give me readings no matter what." you frowned as kaeya reached over your side, trying to make you smile with his fingers.

"well, did i ever tell you that i got into palmistry?" kaeya said, snapping you out of your trance.

you smiled a little bit, his eyes softened. until you realized this might be a prank, you raised a brow,"really? and you never told me?"

"yupp!" kaeya replied, popping the p. he's running out of things to say, "um, like for example, this line on your palm." he took your hand into his, "this is the heart line for, like, romance."

tracing his gloved finger across the line closest to your index to the pinky, he waited for your answer to see if he was legit. "huh, you have been practicing."

kaeya nodded as the weight of your legs flipped to the other side of the couch, your head in his lap. he hoped that his face wouldn't be blooming in reds. "...uh-huh."

"can you read my love life right now?" you asked, holding out your hand to him. taking into his, he replied with a stutter, "of course.."

he traced the lines on your palms, "you would have a love life with someone."

"really? whats their traits like?" you squinted at him.

he traced a random line on your palm, "loyal, kind, flirticious, can cook," kaeya has no idea what he's saying but he's taking this chance just to list off his own traits.

"can you be more specific?"

he skipped a line below the heart line, "um, handsome? really hot, ummm, it's someone whos been with you.."

you chuckled, bringing yourself closer to kaeya. "really? the love of my life would be handsome, really hot and can cook."

from that, kaeya knows that you know he doesn't know how to palm read. he thinks? maybe you are really that gullible (wrong). "yes?"

"is there anything else i should know about?"

"the love of your life has a vision, a literal one and one where you two are together forever and ever."

you hid a chuckle, "what kind of vision? is it cold?"

"are you reading your own palm now?" kaeya quipped back, laughing.

you definitely know he was lying. was it worth knowing that you return his feelings?

for sure.

[forgottenamira]

Aria/Amira - “ we all have secrets, don’t we? ”

flashforward

The room was dimly lit: sunset's last gasp splashed across the far wall while all else around the two women fell into ever-deepening shadow. Amira paused at the lady's voice, stilling even as she extended a hand to pull back the curtains.

Aria's words had in truth taken her by surprise but, lips curling into a smile, she considered that they ought not to have done. The former princess was of an outspoken bent. Was that an Astairan quality, she wondered, or simply an entitled one? It was hard to say with those who had never known true want, Amira often felt. They knew so little of this world while thinking to own it all. Disgust rippled over Amira. It was strange, this: two women in this dark room. One a rumored witch. The other...

Arching a brow, Amira turned to face Aria, limpid orbs drinking in the younger woman with curiosity. "Bold words," said the queen, approaching slowly. Stretching out a hand suddenly, she clasped Aria's, hard gaze biting into Aria's before a smile once again suffused her features and, slowly, she lifted Aria's hand, inspecting it with eager gaze.

"There is something more powerful than secrets, girl. Facts."

The hand was elegant, sporting long, tapering fingers and fine digits. Slowly, she turned it over. She opened Aria's fist with her other hand. Her fingers grazed the young woman's palm, running across it, tracing the lines cut into it, reading her skin just as if text were written upon it.

"A fact for you, child: my grandmother was a witch. You know this, I am sure." Another smile. Her hard eyes glittered like coal in the gloaming light. She pushed Aria's thumb flat, sweeping fingers across the lines in her palm. "And I was fortunate. I learned much at her knee."

Locking her fingers around Aria's wrist, she gazed a moment more, and released her suddenly. Her eyes found Aria's own. "How much is known of the great Calainon here in Astaira, I wonder?"

Amira tilted her head. Her gaze measured. Palmistry had taught her, though still less than she might have wished. Aria's face would not prove so blank.

"He was much as you are, my ancestor: a heathen heretic who worshipped demons, as my husband might tell you. The witches of his line long continued the pagan practice after him. My own grandmother was one such. A seer, some here might call her, though that was not our word for it. A fitting term, however, for that is what she taught me, ultimately: to see." Amira's smile was cold. "Shall I tell you what I see, bastard of Stafford?" Amira's gaze roved the lovely face, ever darkening in the twilight, green eyes seeming to glow as the last rays of the sun stroked her cheek and, at last, Amira's smile dropped. "I see you."

Witch.

[littlescaryinternetguy]

The topographies that only the small can appreciate. The topography of the enormous body. The ridges and dales of blankets and duvets, the tectonic shifts of drowsing. In palmistry, the ball of the thumb is called the mons: the mountain. A gentle hill, a pillow. The fingers curl above and it's a warm cavern for you to rest in. The curve of the ear, the natural bridge. To know a land as home, to know a land that loves you. To be in a country that loves.

[drenched-in-sunlight]

the golden ring on Messmer’s crest is from the symbol on the eye Marika blessed him with + it’s on the ring he wears as well (remember what I said about in Palmistry, wearing ring on the middle finger implies responsibility, devotion and justice, so it’s something the head of the family would wear).

even though he took out the eye, he still wore the ring in his Base Serpent form. and if you look closely, every plate on his armor is engraved with that golden ring symbol as well.

it’s poetry to me 😭

(render from Zlofsky on twitter)

[astralnymphh]

patterned palmistry ⋆ | ellie williams headcanons

༺ ellie x witch!reader headcanons/scenarios ༻ ☽𖤐☾

✧˖ ° 🕯 bright blessings!

an: being the witchy little gremlin i am i just had to throw some hcs together for myself but ofc i'd share them here🙄ive been practicing witchcraft since i was 15 so it felt fitting to incorporate it whenever i brace my delusions at the bootycrack of midnight that r all abt ellie 💀 regardless this def isnt gonna be my only witchy hcs post i just didnt wanna spoil all my ideas right away <3 tags: MDNI, slight nsfw (no detailed smut), boob jokes, witchcraft (obv), tarot, palm reading, mostly convos, flirting, not mentioned in the writing but u 2 r alrdy dating, playful bickering, more natural casual writing with some bigger words, no specific religion tied to the practice, generally a fluff piece, lowk cute moments. °________________________⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆__________________________°

I. ☆ ellie definitely had a peak in curiosity the first time you mentioned you immerse yourself in the world of the craft, her ears perked figuratively and were tuned in to learn what that entails. she may not forfeit a nip of skepticism right away but she's more than happy to engross herself in the idea of it. you'd stay up till first light rambling on about the 'rituals', 'divination', the history tied to it and why you practice it. you'd be lying in bed adjacent to her, heavenward to the ceiling, but interwoven in a warm and loving cuddle with her palm residing on your lap whilst you chatted.

"mmmmh-" ellie's hum churns 'round your bedroom, "so that's why you collect rocks."

"crystals."

"same thing," she drones an inwardly giggle, "which crystal will give me superpowers?" a witty remark springs from her tongue.

"babe.." you pout, acting offended yet none is taken.

"didn't mean it like that, y'know I believe you, it's all just new to me." ellie tapes an assuring kiss to your temple, "tell me about your favorite crystals, hmm?" 

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

II. ☆ now because of this, anytime you're out on patrol and delight the opportunity of scavenging, she always keeps in mind to find you flowers, rocks, unused candles and other oddities of nature.

"hey babe! I found a black candle for'ya." ellie bolstered a long glass cylinder filled with an opaque charcoal wax, wick still intact, "and- ..some wild lavender." her other arm swings from behind her back, twines of dusty purple lavender upheld in a pinch.

"fuck yeah, needed this stuff.." you graciously tweak the lavender from her, whiffing up its poignant scent.

"always on the lookout.." her voice resembles her proud countenance outwards, essentially, a dorky smirk.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

III. ☆ obviously, the second you mentioned the art of tarot to her, she begged for a reading. whenever a card flew from your shuffling motions, she'd patiently wait for you to place it before her and then she'd swipe it up and admire the art piece detailing the cardstock.

"whew! look at the boobs on this one!" 

"oh- my god, of course you'd point that out." you snatch the card from her, shamelessly ogling the nude depiction that had her attention.

"you're looking at them too!"

"cuz' you said something 'bout it!" you flick the card towards her face, noting, "those are some nice boobs though." 

"why thank you~" 

"wasn't talking about you, idiot!" 

"eh, but.. urs' are the best." her hoarse tone binds a nonchalant flirtiness in its rumble.

"oh really? should we compare the.. four?"

that really stole her attention.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

IV. ☆ the first time you entertained her with a palm reading, it had her all dappy and touched to the essence at the paltry contact you made with her hand. your fingerprints drafting her calloused palms with such a gentle focus on every river lining her hand. she just wanted to smother you with kisses.

"and… this is your heart line." your finger hovers the crevice of her palm-pads stretching from index to pinkie, "ah.. it's a broken one.."

"is that.. bad?" her juniper eyes study your expression meticulously.

"it just means u're closed off, stubborn, have some emotional trauma.. stuff like that." you mindlessly fiddle with her fingers, "lines can change though, so.."

she nods, taking in the insight. she licks her slightly chapped lips clean, "am I stubborn?" her voice rises partially an octave, bending playfulness in her question.

"mm.. no."

"why'd you hesitate?"

"well- the only times ur' stubborn is refusing to let go whenever you hug me- ur' a life-size sloth!" 

"I like huggin' you though." a puppy pout frowns on her lips, "you're like a pillow!"

and oh, how your heart capers a beat, "is that all I am, williams?"

her swift speech conjuncts, "whaddid' I say about that name?!"

"I don't know, I think you like it." 

"nuh-uh I don't!"

you pepper a haste kiss to her knuckles still forcepped in your clasp, totally deterring the crime you've just committed when a half impish half taken aback smile creaks her lips.

"c'mere." vaults from her tongue before she lunges her body forward and tackles you in a saucy position riddled with love bites. guess you'll be reading her palms in a different way tonight.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ V. ☆ an bonus hc, you'd totally mention out of the void about her tattoo n the mystic meanings surrounding moths, like, its for sure one of the topics you'll ramble about one night cause you just feel so wise for knowing. "y'know, moths play a pretty large role in the metaphysical world." "really? i mean, i knew they had some kind of.. 'symbolism' to them-" ellie's hand rolls over the knoll of her forearm, reading the bumps glamoured in that beautiful inking. "yeah, like- luna moths represent transformation, renewal.. oh! and death-head moths are an omen of death.. an- and black witch moths mean either good luck, or bad-" ellie is amused at your prattle shown by her raspy giggles, legitimately having to conceal her scrunched face. "what?" "nothin' you- you're just so cute." "stop.." the embarrassment catches up to you, now having to hide your face to the shadows beneath your hands. her finger cranes out to hook and uncover your nerdy grin, assuring, "never stop tellin' me bout this stuff, ok babe?" a wide delighted beam syncs on her cheeks. goddess above, her dimples and nasal lines are to die for. ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

𖤐

in general; she's a curious dork n will ask you oh so many questions, i mean, she loves space and a futuristic sci-fi comic for crying out loud, she's alrdy so imaginative so ofc she'd be open to a realistic amount. she'd also be so respectful and helpful n defend ur practice with so much love. maybe she'd pick up some little traditions and customs like folding letters a specific amount of times, drawing little pentacles, mixing liquid in specific directions, just the simple things that grow on her.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Divination (pt. 2)

The Sorceress by John William Waterhouse (1913, oil on canvas)

Divining the Future:

It seems humans have for a very long time been troubled by the opacity of the future. They'd like to have a better sense of what lies ahead, and they've come up with some ingenious ways of trying to get at that information, each of which has a name.

The suffix -mancy means "divination." Divination is the art or practice that seeks to foresee or foretell future events, or to discover hidden knowledge. Divination usually involves the interpretation of omens or, if you're really lucky, the assistance of supernatural powers.

Chiromancy -> divination by examination of the hand Also: cheiromancy. It's a synonym of the more common word palmistry. Chiromancy has fallen in and out of favor over the millennia of its history. In Medieval times, those hunting witches using chiromancy looked for pigmentation spots on the hands, which signaled a pact with the Devil.

Cleromancy -> divination by means of casting lots Cast here means "throw" or "toss." Lots are objects—such as marked sticks or dice—used as a counter when determining a question of chance. In cleromancy, the lots are thrown and where and how they land provide clues about the future. If you use dice, you can refer to your particular kind of cleromancy as cubomancy.

Dactyliomancy -> divination by means of finger rings In one form of dactyliomancy, a ring is suspended by a fine thread over a round table marked with the letters of the alphabet. In its dangling state, the ring settles briefly over particular letters, spelling out a message. Dactyl- means "finger," "toe," or "digit."

Geomancy -> divination by means of figures or lines or geographic features Take a piece of paper and a pencil and make a whole bunch of dots on it. If you believe in geomancy (and if you've done the dot-and-pencil work right) you may find that answers to your questions and predictions about the future lie somewhere in the configuration of those dots. To try an older version of geomancy, throw some dirt down and find information about the future in where the particles land. The term also refers to divination by geographical features.

Gyromancy -> divination in which one walking in or around a circle falls from dizziness and prognosticates from the place of the fall The gyro- in this word is the same gyro- in gyroscope. It means "ring, spiral, circle."

Hydromancy -> divination by water or other liquid (as by visions seen therein or the ebb and flow of tides) This can be similar to catoptromancy—when it is a reflection that interests the reader—or it can have to do with the movement of water, either the water's own movement, or the way the water moves objects floating on it.

Lecanomancy -> divination by inspection of water in a basin The water inspected in lecanomancy may have stones tossed into it, or oil mixed into it. The word comes from the Greek lekanē, meaning "basin."

Lithomancy -> divination by stones or by charms or talismans of stone Lith- means "stone." In lithomancy, the stones are typically specially chosen stones, and are sometimes semiprecious (i.e., denoting minerals which can be used as gems but are considered to be less valuable than precious stones). Qualities of the stones are important in lithomancy, such as how reflective of light they are.

Necromancy -> conjuration of the spirits of the dead for purposes of magically revealing the future or influencing the course of events Phrased less delicately than this definition, necromancy is divination by the dead. The word is also used to broadly refer to magic or sorcery. Necro- means "one that is dead" or "those that are dead." Necromancy should not be confused with sciomancy, which is divination by consulting the disembodied spirits of the dead.

Oneiromancy -> divination by means of dreams Dreams can seem like messages from some other realm, and oneiromancy asserts that they indeed are that. The Bible's book of Genesis tells of Joseph's oneiromancy skills; he explains that Pharaoh's dreams of fat and lean cattle, and full and thin heads of grain, predict of years of plenty to be followed by years of famine.

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