vv1sh

[vv1sh]

no offense but the soft uncertain kiss followed by a pause where the people look each other in the eyes and then fucking pull eachother back into a more passionate kiss will always be the most soul destroying trope , catch me lying on the fucking ground sobbing and rewatching The Scene™✌🏼✌🏼✌🏼

[vv1sh]

unfortunately i have a deep love for humanity and choose to believe conditions will improve. despite it all

[vv1sh]

❛ i’m trying to fix your hair, so hold still. ❜ / for Orihime!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤMIDNIGHT SKIES NEVER FELT SO BRIGHT.

✼        ━━━━━━    Aspirations,   recited   passionately   to   the   stellar   realms,   linger   in   constellations   beloved   by   mortal   hearts,   guardians   of   humanity’s   innermost   aspires.   Yet,   how   naively   mortals   put   faith   in   cosmic   beings   by   burdening   them   with   dreams   they   themselves   cannot   shoulder?   She,   however,   refrains   from   such   indulgence,   as   she   never   cared   to   impose   her   aspirations   upon   anyone,   much   less   the   inhabitants   of   the   skies.   Nonetheless,   he   sits   behind   her,   weaving   his   digits   tenderly   through   her   auburn   hair,   handling   it   with   patience.   Orion,   she   recalls   his   name,   or   simply   The   Hunter,   as   ancient   myths   sing.   And   herself?   Orihime,   named   after   Vega,   the   luminous   star   marking   the   fifth   brightest   point   in   the   night's   amorphous   expanse.   His   touch   remains   gentle,   though   occasionally   she   adjusts   her   position,   hips   rotating   to   ease   the   tingling   numbness   that   spreads.   "Forgive   me."   Murmurs   with   melodious   laugh,   admiring   his   appearance   in   the   mirror.   "But   I   think   my   legs   are   falling   asleep."

In   front   of   them   stands   a   clear   mirror,   capturing   reflections   like   an   idyllic   lagoon.   The   image   it   provides   is   truly   magnificent.   Her   hair   is   exquisitely   woven   into   a   chic   braid,   adorned   by   petite   white   flowers   and   flecks   of   stardust   glittering   against   the   copper   strands.   Sun's   last   persisting   rays   spill   through   the   window,   making   her   glow   transcendentally,   almost   as   if   she   had   fallen   from   heaven.   Warmth   blossoms   within   her   chest,   a   flush   of   delight   bubbling   subtly   to   her   cheeks   as   she   regards   her   new   reflection.   As   she   turns,   fingertips   brush   over   the   braid.   "You   truly   have   made   me   beautiful." @vv1sh

[vv1sh]

                                                    @vv1sh   sent   a   message.                                                   ‘   perfectly   alright   if   you’d                                                    rather   not   talk   about   it   '

𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍   𝐖𝐀𝐒   𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘   𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓         because   Dex   absolutely   did    not    want   to   talk   about   it.   He   truly   feels   as   if   he's   done   enough   talk.   Enough   with   the    feelings    and   the   touchy   shit   about   his   past.   Did   that   so   much   therapy   when   everything   had   first   happened    …    but   did   that   really   count?   Did   it   matter   that   he   was   lying   to   the   therapist   about   the    truth    of   what   happened   to   his   friends?

Maybe.   Maybe    not    ⸻    but   there   was   just   so   much   to   think   about   as   well.   Here   he   was,   spending   time   with   the   physical   embodiment   of   a    wishing   star    that   seemed   to   know   all   of   his   secrets   and   seemed   to   know   the   truth    beyond    the   truth.   It   was   freaky,   in   all   honesty.   The   silence   seemed   to   stretch   on   and   on   but    …    but   it   wasn't   uncomfortable,   actually.   There   was   a   strange   sense   of   knowing   that   settled   over   the   both   of   them.

It   felt    reminiscent    of   the   moment   Dexter   was   bombarded   with   the   knowledge   of   the   world   even,   overwhelming   and   yet   expectant   and   calm.    Odd.    The   silence   couldn't   keep   going   though.   For   a   lot   of   people,   there   was   this   innate   human    need    to   fill   silence   as   it   had   others   overthinking.   He   was    absolutely    one   of   those.   It   seemed   that   he   did   want   to   talk   about   it,   even   after   that   denial.     “   Why   was    I    the   one   that   the   universe   decided   to   royally   fuck,   huh?   ”

Dexter   hadn't    meant    to   sound   so   aggressive,   words   coming   out   in   a   snap   as   he   stretched   out   where   he   was   laying.   The   two   had   been   occupying   an   empty   park   for   probably   over   an   hour,   enjoying   the   comfort   of   the   night    ⸻    one   of   them   hadn't   seen   the   stars   in    years    unfortunately.     “   I   make   one   lousy   mistake   and   get   punished   with   all   of   this    …    this    knowledge    that   I   don't   even   want.   ”       He   remembers   so   clearly   how   much   information   had   been   shoved   in   his   head   after   being   exposed   to   Truth.

It   was   as   if   all   of   the   information   of   the   universe   had   been   forced   into   his   brain   at   once.   His   skull   had   wanted   to   positively    explode    when   it   was   happening    …    but   now   he   could   use   the   information   for   others.   And   he   did.   Sort   of   anyways    ⸻    to   the   best   of   his   ability,   anyways.   Yet   all   he   did   was   chase   after   the   philosophers   stone   so   he   could   restore   his   friends   to   their   rightful   spot   in   this   world.     “   Can't   forget   the   loss   of   my   eyesight,   that   was    needlessly    cruel.   ” 

As   Dexter   stared     (   albeit   his   version   )       at   the   stars   above   the   bright   moonlight   caught   on   his   grey   eyes,   making   them   look   all   that   much   more   eerie.   His   scar   looked   especially   irritated   in   this   light,   the   pink   skin   looking   raw    …    almost   like   it   was   fresh.   In   his   mind   it   still   sort   of    was    in   the   end.   No   matter   how   much   time   passed,   no   matter   the   years,   the   sensations   and   pains   never   went   away. 

[vv1sh]

Orion would not be opposed to being pegged by a pretty woman 🌸😌

[vv1sh]

not to sound like a perv, but i'd play with your hair and listen to your problems

[vv1sh]

Meeting other wishing stars is a rare occurrence for Orion; it stirs both curiosity & a sense of inevitability. Unlike regular stars, wishing stars [ like him ] are born from the hopes & desires of mortals, each one uniquely tied to the specific wishes they fulfill. Though their essence originates from the same cosmic source, the roles & purposes of each wishing star differ, shaped by the individual dreams they carry; while sharing a similar nature, they remain distant from one another, their paths rarely aligning. When Orion meets another wishing star, there is an immediate sense of isolation; their course is different, drawn to different wishes that are as fleeting as the desires they answer,

The connection, though genuine, is always temporary. In these rare encounters, Orion also experiences a quiet understanding; these are a reminder that he is not alone in his role, though the brief nature of their conversations makes it clear that such encounters are never meant to last. Their paths eventually diverge, each star returning to its course, guiding the wishes of others & in the end, Orion remains a solitary figure in the sky. But there’s always a constant reassurance that even in the vast expanse of the cosmos, wishing stars are not completely isolated, not even from each other…

[vv1sh]

[ updated tag drop ]

[vv1sh]

❛ how are you doing that? ❜ -Ophelia

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤA QUIET SMILE PLAYS AT THE CORNERS OF HIS LIPS,ㅤwatching as she seems to search him with wide-eyed wonder; the question lingering in the air between them, & for a moment, he simply observes. There is something in her, a spark, a connection to the very essence of the universe itself; she is like him, in the way of the stars [ yet not quite the same, ] A child of the cosmos, with so much yet to understand… “How am I doing it?” the words are soft, testing the weight of the question; he tilts his head just ever so, & his presence seems to shift, the air around them thickening with a subtle, almost imperceptible hum of energy, “It’s not as much about doing, as it is being; the stars do not ‘do’ anything, Ophelia. We simply are,” He raises a hand slowly, the movement graceful, the space between them bends with this every gesture; a faint glow radiates from his fingertips, drawing the light of the cosmos into his palm, “What I do, or rather, what I am, is born from the same energy that gives life to the stars. I exist between the space of light & dark, the way the stars do; never truly still, always in motion, always becoming,”

Gaze lingers on her; stardust in his eyes flickering with something ancient, knowing, “What you see, Ophelia, is not magic or trickery; it is simply the nature of the universe, woven into every fiber of my being. Just as the stars shine without thought, I too exist as a part of that vast, unspoken dance. The universe does not need to ask permission to shine; it simply does. & so, I move, I shift, I exist, & the light follows. That’s the best way I can explain it,” he smiles, admittedly a little embarrassed; he’s usually much better at explaining such complexities, but… she has him flustered! [ a blessing in disguise, not being able to blush like a mortal ] “I am doing nothing, Ophelia. I am being everything that I am meant to be; just as you are meant to be exactly as you are,” He allows his hand fall to his side, the glow slowly fading, “In that way, perhaps we are not so different, you & I," he murmurs softly, “In time, the understanding will come to you, like stardust settling into place: quietly & slowly. The cosmos reveals itself, Ophelia,” voice is barely above a whisper, “not in haste, but to those who are ready to see the light hidden within the dark,” A little wink follows, “I’ll be there, helping; if you’ll have me, of course…”

[vv1sh]

"You’re distracting me, you know." / for Ophelia <3

⟡ ݁. ⊹ ₊ ݁ ask meme ✦ @vv1sh ₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡

❝ How so? ❞ The question slips from her lips, airy and light, but there’s something coy nestled beneath it, something bold, even for her.

She is not often this forward. If someone else had caught her in the act, had named her want for attention, she might’ve flushed with guilt & stammered an apology. But this isn’t someone else. This is Orion. And for him, she cannot help herself.

Her interest in him burns brighter than any she's known before. A mortal man has never stirred her like this—no other creature had garnered the same sensation. He is celestial, like her. Born of starlight and divine breath. Crafted for skies and silence and wonder. Of course she is drawn to him. How could she not be?

She cannot remember the last time she stood in the presence of her own kind. Cannot recall the comfort of another soul who understands what it means to bear the quiet ache of divinity among mortals. In him, there is recognition. There is home.

And so, in her defense, her efforts to catch his attention are hardly unruly. She is trying, truly trying, to behave. She sits with a book open in her lap, posture poised as if in deep concentration. Yet every few minutes, her eyes lift from the page, drawn to him like tide to moon. Her gaze lingers longer than it should, memorizing the curve of his jaw, the light in his eyes, the way the universe seems more at peace when he is near.

She could spend centuries like this; admiring him, wrapped in his silence, warmed by his nearness. The thought alone brings a flush to her cheeks...

❝ I’m not doing anything, ❞ she insists, lips curling into a soft pout. Plush, pleading, entirely unconvincing. Her eyes widen with mock innocence, the stars in them gleaming far too brightly to be trusted.

She’s trying to be patient. Truly. But every part of her aches to reach for him— to take his hand, to pull him up and out, to show him every beautiful corner of the world and see it all reflected in his eyes. Oh stars, was that her heart fluttering?

[vv1sh]

“ what do stars do ? they shine . ” from Peach

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤHIS CHUCKLE ECHOES FROM THE DEPTHS OF THE COSMOS ITSELF,ㅤ“Indeed they do, Princess,” voice drifts like a whisper; gaze softens as he looks at her, the faintest shimmer of stardust dancing in his eyes. To most, stars seem like simple lights in the sky, [ a constant, steady flicker against the vastness of night, ] but he knows his truth, “Stars,” words are heavy with the weight of the universe, "They do not merely shine. They are light; born from the very fabric of the cosmos, they pulse with the energy of creation, with the stories of lifetimes long past & futures yet to unfold,” Orion takes a step closer, his presence ethereal, [ as though he is woven from the stardust itself, ] “Each one carries within it the essence of time, of birth & decay, of love & loss. They are beacons, silent witnesses to the eternity of existence,” his voice is gentle but immense; pause, eyes lost for a moment in the glimmering expanse of the sky above,

“To shine is to burn with purpose, to offer a fragment of hope in a universe so vast, so unknown. Stars… we, are the guardians of dreams, the silent keepers of the wishes whispered into the night,” [ They are the promise that even in the darkest corners of the world, light will find a way. Always, ] The truth is, they are far more  — they are the essence of everything that burns brightly within every soul, the spark that keeps the infinite darkness from swallowing everything whole. But he leaves it that, for now. “Is this your first time meeting a star such as myself, Princess?”

[vv1sh]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤHER VOICE CARRIES THROUGH THE AIR,ㅤgentle & filled with a sadness that stirs; she speaks of dreams, of desires that seem so out of reach, & yet they echo through the universe with such clarity. [ To be a star, she says, & Orion can feel the weight of that longing, the quiet yearning for something beyond the confines of her life, her crown, her worries, ] His heart, though not of flesh, pulses with an understanding that goes far beyond what it should; a connection older than the very stars themselves, a timeless bond between dreams & the dreamer. He feels the tremor in her voice, the ache of wanting more than the world she is bound to, for he has heard these wishes before, but there is something about Aurora’s desire that resonates in him with an intensity he cannot easily explain…

At her question, Orion shakes his head, the stars around him seeming to shimmer as if agreeing, “No,” he answers softly, voice rustling of stardust across a quiet night. “It is not silly, Aurora. To dream is to reach beyond what you know, to grasp at what you cannot see, & that is no small thing.” Orion knows, from the heart of the cosmos, that dreams are what shape the world, what shape him; they are the light that guides every soul, no matter how distant. “I see you, & I understand your longing. To be a star, to be something other than what you are; it's not a foolish wish. It is the very thing that makes you human, Aurora. It is the desire to become something greater than the world allows,” —pause, “Perhaps, we are not so different after all. I, too, have my place among the stars, but I… have always been something more than just their light,” The universe itself is listening & waiting, before: “Don’t ever be afraid to dream, Aurora; dreams are the very thing that will carry you beyond the edges of what you see now,”

i cannot turn you into something you are not. / @vv1sh

it had become something of their own nighttime routine. the nightmares plagued her, she could not sleep; so out onto the balcony the princess went, into the night air where she talked and talked to the sky ― until a star had answered, and continued to do so.

tonight was exactly the same. standing on the marble balcony, violet hues aimed up at the night sky ― at all the other stars in the inky black before her. the silk, pastel blue nightgown moved slightly in the brisk breeze. golden curls shimmered under the moonlight, though unruly from her attempt at sleep. " i know. " the beauty said softly, a deep sigh passing rosy lips. his answer did not surprise the princess." how i wish you could, orion. i would love to be a star. " she would love the freedom, the chance to be something else.

" is it so silly? to dream about everything i cannot have? " surely, it wasn't. after all, she had begun to confide in a star about all her woes.

[vv1sh]

i am in fact capable of loving you forever

[vv1sh]

[vv1sh]

June 7, 1924 Journals of Anais Nin 1923-1927 [volume 3]

[vv1sh]

▸     𝗜   𝗡   𝗕   𝗢   𝗫            :            @vv1sh         ⧽        ❪    𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖊   𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖈𝖊   ❫

“A   king   is   not   his   throne   nor   his   crown.”   /   hello!   <3

𝕿𝖍𝖊   𝖑𝖔𝖗𝖉❟   𝖗𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖉   𝖎𝖓   𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊   ⸻   𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖐   𝖆𝖘   𝖙𝖍𝖊   𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙’𝖘   𝖔𝖜𝖓   𝖘𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖉❟   𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖉   𝖎𝖓   𝖙𝖍𝖊   𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖗   𝖔𝖋   𝖋𝖆𝖗   𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖘   ⸻   𝖍𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖉   𝖆   𝖑𝖔𝖜   𝖉𝖎𝖗𝖌𝖊.   Not   for   himself,   but   for   the   radiant   thing   before   him.   The   star.   So   effervescent   in   light,   golden   and   silvered,   a   living   flare   of   heat   and   fusion   that   dazzled   even   his   ancient   gaze.   There   was   awe   in   his   lilac   eyes   as   they   drank   in   the   presence   of   Orion’s   grace.   A   clawed   hand   lifted,   curling   a   finger   over   the   sharp   edge   of   an   ivory   smile,   even   as   mournful   shadows   clung   beneath   his   lashes.

❝       𝘼   𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙚   𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚   𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣   𝙤𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚   𝙖𝙣𝙙   𝙙𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙚   𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩   𝙤𝙛   𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥   .   .   .   𝙖𝙢   𝙄   𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜   𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚   𝙄   𝙖𝙢   𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙙❟   𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩❟   𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧   𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩?     ❞        he   crooned   to   the   lone   brilliance   before   him,   having   chosen,   of   all   crawling   things,   to   wear   the   form   of   man.        ❝     𝙊𝙧   𝙞𝙨   𝙞𝙩   𝙡𝙪𝙘𝙠?   𝘼   𝙘𝙧𝙪𝙚𝙡   𝙘𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚   𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩   𝙄   𝙬𝙖𝙨   𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙣   𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤   𝙡𝙪𝙭𝙪𝙧𝙮   𝙖𝙣𝙙   𝙜𝙤𝙙𝙡𝙮   𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚   𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚?        ❞

He   wandered   from   the   point,   like   a   toddler   trailing   toward   every   glittering   distraction.   And   yet—there   was   purpose   in   his   diversion.   Subterfuge.   Deflection.   If   one   were   to   press   him,   Eidenai   might   confess: A   king   is   not   his   throne,   nor   crown. A   king   is   the   distance   he   walks   to   understand   what   his   realm   needs,   even   when   that   need   is   at   odds   with   desire   ⸻   his   own   or   theirs.

There   is   a   place   in   him,   buried   deep,   that   aches   to   unclose   his   hand.   To   loose   the   iron   grip.   To   offer   not   tyranny,   but   gentle   warmth   ⸻   sunlight   for   the   lonely,   the   damned,   the   desperate.   But   they   are   not   ready.   They   do   not   want   it.   Cannot   fathom   it.   And   should   he   offer   it,   they   would   rend   it   from   his   hands   and   tear   one   another   to   ribbons   in   the   ruins.   The   wheel   would   spin   again:   ambition,   betrayal,   collapse.   The   cycle   consuming   itself   faster   than   could   be   restored.   How   he   longs   to   rule   not   with   the   hammer,   but   the   cloak.   To   drape   it   over   trembling   shoulders.   To   nurture.   But   he   cannot.   Perhaps   he   never   will.   Not   until   they   release   their   hatred.   Not   until   he   releases   his   own.

❝        𝘼   𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙚   𝙖𝙣𝙙   𝙘𝙧𝙤𝙬𝙣   𝙖𝙧𝙚   𝙖𝙡𝙡   𝙄   𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚   𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣   𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙣,    ❞         he   says,   voice   low   as   falling   ash.        ❝     𝙏𝙝𝙪𝙨❟    𝙄   𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧   𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢.     ❞

[vv1sh]

His gaze soft & admiring, taking in the peaceful aura that surrounds her, “You know,” he begins, his voice gentle, almost as if he were speaking to a dream itself, “I’ve seen many stars, but none as captivating as the way you sleep…” He pauses for a moment, letting the warmth of his words linger, then adds with a playful smile, "Tell me, Princess, what’s your secret? Is there a certain lullaby that guides you into such peaceful slumber, or is it simply… the magic of your dreams?” / @vv1sh

the princess's violet gaze turned towards the star, her cheeks flushing pink at his flattering words ― and the gentle tone in which he spoke them. she hardly felt as captivating as a star, her golden curls, though shimmering in the moonlight in an ethereal way ― were messy. thrown into a bun with loose tendrils framing her delicate features. his playful smile made her giggle, and she shook her head. she would have to take his word for it, for aurora seldom had an idea of how she looked when she slept. " surely, there is a star out there far more captivating then me. you, for example, " the princess retorted, then she sighed softly. her head, nodding along to his words.

" actually, there is a lullaby, " aurora stated, and with her enchanting voice, she began to hum. the tune was elegant and dreamy, in a way. a waltzing melody that seemed hopeful, full of light. " i fall asleep dreaming i'm dancing, "