INASSOUVI

astrological headcanons / closed.

( & all the remaining options, )

[ MERCURY ] is your muse good at communication ? can they hold a proper conversation, or are they always finding an excuse to avoid small talk ?

✧.*

depending on the matter. she is good at communicating instructions, always straight to the point with clear and simple words; she is also good at influencing her targets to act according to her wishes; true communication with acquaintances, companions and friends is a different matter.

communication is a two-way street; under that definition, very few actually get to communicate with her. social conversation was a learnt as a skill — while she may participate in one, her heart is not always there. she knows how to throw questions to make people talk, especially people who are dying to talk about themselves; she knows how to ease people into providing information she wants.

she prefers curt answers when being asked questions, but she will quickly adopt a deflective tactic whenever they get too personal. asking questions is a simple way to steer the conversation away from herself, and she will ask questions to keep the conversation going even if she may not be entirely interested; she tries not to let it show, especially to well-meaning people who simply want to know her better. for that reason, she is a good listener — whatever information she learns, however, may become valuable intelligence.

[ VENUS ] how does your muse handle love ? do they believe themself to be deserving of it, and how capable are they of loving others ?

✧.*

platonic love is easy. whether they consider her a friend or family, platonic bonds usually give her space. most expressions of platonic love do not bother her, and they also consist something she values: respect. while she can't say she believes she deserves anyone's love, she definitely believes she deserves respect.

romantic love, however, requires truth. she has to show the other person who she is — who she really is — or else the bond would crumble. first there is the issue with being her true self in front of someone, then there is the question: who would love her as is? she is not cute. she is not sweet. she isn't what people see when they imagine a partner. thus, when a potential love interest expresses love, she puts it under investigation. what are your reasons? is there proof? in a way, convincing each other of this love is flirting to her.

she does not consider sexual attraction a form of love — she knows there are people who desire her merely as a body, and in turn, she too may consider others sexually desirable. while physical intimacy has its risks, she knows what she can handle, even when naked; she never bites off more than she can chew. getting in bed has little to no bearing on emotional proximity, and she can love fiercely without ever touching the other person at all.

[ EARTH ] how grounded is your muse ? are they logical and straightforward, or are do they always have their head in the clouds ?

✧.*

practical and straightforward, especially when it matters, though she occasionally indulges in a little spontaneous fun.

while logical in her ways, she is also a very skeptical person, and sometimes her doubt is louder than logic; of course, eventually, she still returns to logic for verification.

instead of suspending her disbelief, she suspends her belief — it's a defensive mechanism. that isn't to say she outright doubts everything she is told — she just prefers to log them as possibilities and stories until she sees proof. however, understanding how this may offend others, she tries to do this as inoffensive as possible. throughout her life, she has seen all kinds of lies from the rich and the poor, from law-abiding citizens and criminals — everyone has their reasons, or sometimes, their own interpretations. some lie with intention, others out of vices or weaknesses; some tell false stories based on a lack of information or misinformation.

so, instead of believing in what people say, she believes in what she sees and what people do. anyone can say pretty words but only facts and action can be proof.

[ MARS ] when your muse gets angry, how does it show ? do they know how to control it, or do they let it consume them ?

✧.*

her gaze sharpens when she's angry. no more sleepy eyes, just sharp, pointed focus on what enraged her. even when seething, she prefers to stay level-headed; she needs to find the right time to strike, and she needs to strike where it hurts most.

naturally vindictive, she believes in retribution, and she trusts her anger. anger is safe; it has saved her life time and time again. she believes that you're angry because you don't want to be treated like that; you're angry because you don't like being disrespected; you're angry because you deserve better; you're angry because you want change.

so she doesn't restrain her anger — why would she cage the one emotion that has consistently looked out for her? she dwells on her anger in silence, patiently sorting through its complex and intricate messages, and devises a plan to act on it. she doesn't let it consume her; she lets it consume whoever crossed her.

like all emotions, anger needs to be taken care of, and it is the one she knows how to take care of best.

[ SATURN ] is your muse all work and no play ? do they let responsibility consume them, or do they allow themselves breaks from time to time ?

✧.*

give her a task, she will do it; after that, she's gone. she sneaks out of church, sometimes dragging dahlia with her, for a drink or a smjoke. that said, she doesn't actually play. her drinking and smoking are more like sedation than pleasure.

she is learning to play, though. whenever there's a play at opera epiclese, she takes her leave and travels all the way to submerge in the world of theatre for a few weeks.

[ URANUS ] can your muse handle change ? do they accept it with open arms, or will they try anything they can to make sure things say the same ?

✧.*

depends on the change. favourite snack discontinued? sulking. broke her boots and can't find an exact replicate? someone get them customised so she can go to work. someone she knows dies? not talking about it, moving on. she tries to run away from processing traumatic change by changing faster.

[ NEPTUNE ] does your muse dream frequently ? if they do, what kind of dreams (or nightmares) do they have ?

✧.*

yes, but seldom anything she can retain after waking up. sometimes, when she is in the middle of an investigation or stakeout, her sleep is so light that she feels awake in her dreams, overanalysing her environment, struggling to break free of containment, etc. on rare occasions, she dreams of being held and wakes up feeling loved. for that day alone, she can forget about the gloom.

[ CERES ] does your muse take care of themself ? do they neglect their needs to put others first ?

✧.*

she always puts herself first and mondstadt second. if she doesn't put herself first, nobody else will. during quiet and uneventful times, she has learnt to indulge herself beyond basic needs, hoping to establish herself beginning with interests and not just what she is capable of.

that said, she is not exactly the role model of how to live life. she relies on structures like the church to keep herself eating and resting on time; when alone, she is prone to skipping meals and substituting proper sustenance with snacks.

[ PALLAS ] how perceptive is your muse ? can they pick up on things other people don't ?

✧.*

while she is far from a mind reader, her understanding on human nature gives her a solid read on most situations. she relies on intuition — honed to perfection with experiences — to identify risks and threats, taking into account one's mannerisms and speech, looking for logic gaps and interesting word choices.

But as the evening went on Theo was sure deep down that his friend from years ago was in the same resturant as him. From then on his mission to try and get her attention had started. Frustratingly he was failing at this badly enough that by the time he was paying for his meal he was ready to bounce out of his seat and chase her down before she could escape. After chasing Rosaria to a back corner of the restaurant does he crowd up close enough to keep his voice low.

“ i've been around, ” rosaria glances up at him, her fake smile without a trace, responding to his turmoil with a leveled calmness. “ i've been places. ” there is no version of them which she gives up her whereabouts; in fact, she is certain he would hate it more if he found out that she had been in his periphery. honestly, she thought he would have made peace with her off his radar.

kindness, as it turns out, can be quite tyrannical. he towers her out of concern, his protectiveness just as suffocating as she remembers; if it weren't theo, she would've broken his nose for cornering her like that. all this time has washed over them, and she still doesn't know what to do with all his emotions. glancing over his shoulder, she peeks at the dining area where patrons and servers are exchanging nervous looks; those are the starting signs of her orchestrated commotion.

she considers the optics of her situation and decides it can be manipulated to her benefit. she rests a hand on his cheek, turning her attention from the clatter to his presence. “ would you be mad if i kissed you? ”

peter  over  there  seems  particularly  peeved  that  rosaria  would  dare  even  think  of  exploding  him  .      all  in  good  fun  ,      and  a  good  fun  that  has  the  corners  of  grace's  lips  curving  upward  .      coming  to  this  deli  nearly  thrice  a  week  has  its  benefits  :      mainly  ,      that  the  environment  makes  for  something  quite  low-stimulation  .      just  as  he'd  like  it  all  the  time  ,      a  welcome  change  to  the  sometimes  hectic  days  at  his  job  .      where  kids  can  be  rowdy  ,      adults  can  be  softer  spoken  .      like  rosaria  .

❝        yeah  .      impossible  to  make  from  scratch  .      unless  you  have  someone  with  connections  into  the  'kind  of  illegal  and  difficult  to  obtain  but  could  still  find  a  way  to  bring  it  to  you'  industry  .      for  the  record  ,      you  don't  have  any  connections  like  that  .        ❞        it's  his  turn  for  a  bit  of  lighthearted  fun  .        ❝        i'm  a  schoolteacher  ,      not  a  mad  scientist  with  an  association  with  the  government  .        ❞        actually  'black  market'  might  be  a  better  term  to  use  there  .      but  sometimes  it's  the  same  thing  .      whatever  !  he  mulls  over  the  whole  thing  over  another  bite  .      he  likes  her  and  her  curiosity  .      not  one  boring  question  from  her  .      not  ever  .

she watches him from behind the counter, the way he takes the most unimportant bits of her story and puts on a genuine spin. she does write, mostly in the form of profiling and journaling and reporting and debriefing, but grace seems to imagine a different kind of career for her through his playful eyes.

such lucky children, she thinks, to have him as their teacher.

“ i'm a deli worker to you, ” she points at him with a wooden shovel, pausing just to talk to him, then back to scraping burnt scraps off the grill. “ don't joke. one day you'll pick up the newspaper and read a column by me. ”

she washes up and leaves the counter, ignoring the pointed glares from peter over there, and finds herself a seat, right where grace likes to be. the afternoon sun is quiet and reserved, passing through the storefront glass at a gentle angle, stretching lazily across the georgian tiles and stopping before touching their soles. pulling out a folded page of sudoku from her back pocket, she pats herself down until she finds a pen, ball point blue, as ordinary as can be, and begins to fill it out.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ💋ɞ˚‧｡⋆     𝐫𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝

𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬  -  send  ‘reverse’  for  the  sender  and  receiver  to  swap.  adjust  wording  as  needed!

[  recognition  ]  sender  stops  short  when  they  see  receiver,  like  the  world  needs  a  second  to  catch  up

[  double  take  ]  sender  walks  past  receiver  before  realizing,  then  turns  back  too  fast

[  breath  ]  sender  stares  at  receiver  in  disbelief,  forgetting  how  to  breathe

[  hesitant  ]  sender  takes  a  step  toward  receiver,  then  pauses,  unsure  if  they’re  allowed

[  voice  ]  sender  tries  to  speak  to  receiver  and  fails

[  hug  ]  sender  pulls  receiver  into  a  tentative  hug  that  tightens  like  it’s  been  waiting  years

[  forehead  ]  sender  rests  their  forehead  gently  against  receiver’s

[  laugh  ]  sender  laughs  mid-embrace,  tears  slipping  out  at  the  same  time

[  hands  ]  sender  cups  receiver’s  face  or  grips  their  arms  like  proof  this  is  real

[  silent  ]  sender  and  receiver  stand  together  without  speaking,  just  breathing  the  same  air

[  unsure  ]  sender  hovers  close,  unsure  whether  to  hug  again  or  step  back

[  scent  ]  sender  breathes  in  receiver  like  memory  made  real

[  tension  ]  sender  lets  out  a  soft,  incredulous  laugh  that  breaks  the  moment  open

[  touch  ]  sender  squeezes  receiver’s  hand

[  presence  ]  sender  stays  close  to  receiver,  finding  that  just  being  there  is  enough

𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

❝  i  can’t  believe  it’s  really  you.  ❞

❝  i  thought  about  this  moment  more  times  than  i  can  count.  ❞

❝  you  look…  the  same.  a  little  different.  still  the  same,  though.  ❞

❝  i  didn’t  realize  how  much  i  missed  you  until  now.  ❞

❝  i  didn’t  know  it  would  feel  like  this.  ❞

❝  i  was  afraid  you  wouldn’t  be  here.  ❞

❝  i’ve  waited  a  long  time  for  this.  ❞

❝  i  don’t  know  what  to  say,  i  just—  ❞

❝  i  didn’t  think  i’d  ever  see  you  again.  ❞

❝  you’re  really  here.  ❞

❝  i  held  onto  the  idea  of  you.  ❞

❝  i  didn’t  know  how  much  i  needed  this.  ❞

❝  it  feels  like  coming  home.  ❞

❝  i  never  stopped  missing  you.  ❞

❝  i  thought  i’d  moved  on.  i  hadn’t.  ❞

❝  i  don’t  want  to  let  go  again.  ❞

❝  you’re  still  my  person.  ❞

❝  i  kept  hoping.  ❞

❝  i  don’t  care  how  long  it’s  been.  ❞

❝  seeing  you  makes  everything  else  fade.  ❞

❝  i’ve  carried  you  with  me  this  whole  time.  ❞

❝  i  didn’t  realize  how  much  space  you  left  behind.  ❞

❝  i  don’t  need  answers  right  now.  just  this.  ❞

how many years has it been since they last met? rosaria can barely comprehend the passage of time nowadays, especially when it exceeds the borders of a weekly planner.

it's impossible not to recognise theo with his hellhound ears, fully dressed in a three-piece in this hole-in-the-wall restaurant. yes, she recognises him, but that's about it. theo has found himself the righthand of colby's matriarch, and his name frequently reaches rosaria's ear through the grapevine. she doesn't like dwelling on the past, and she sure has no time for heartfelt reunions. especially not when she's on a mission. with a plain white uniform and kempt hair that hugs her skull, she blends in with the busy waitstaff as a fellow colleague, new to the place and eager to learn the ropes and serve. the smile on her face must be alien to someone who knows — or used to know — her privately, but she doesn't have time to refresh her backstory when her target is right there.

despite his infamy, theo hasn't changed much. he tries to get her attention throughout the night, each time ignored by a convenient heel turn or head tilt. about half an hour later, just before theo's patience runs too thin, she manages to sprinkle the poison over her target's dessert with a sleight of hand; someone else will deliver it to his table, and for now, she has time to handle the puppy on her tail.

the  note  sits  ,      silent  and  friendly  and  completely  out  of  place  ,      on  the  counter  .      he  runs  his  finger  along  the  edge  of  the  paper  ,      the  side  of  his  thumbnail  pressing  down  into  a  small  but  pesky  crease  at  the  corner  .      it  pops  back  up  the  moment  he  raises  his  hand  ,      so  he  gives  up  ,      picking  the  note  up  instead  and  holding  it  out  at  arm's  length  .

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ welcome  back  .      welcome  back  .      welcome  back  .

eridian  culture  norm  dictates  that  a  word  or  verbal  expression  repeated  three  times  is  a  sign  of  emphasis  .      this  was  written  out  on  the  paper  once  ,      but  he  sees  them  three  times  ,      inked  letter  swimming  across  his  vision  in  triple  tandem  ,      wavering  and  dancing  in  the  selfsame  greeting  .      he  realizes  a  few  seconds  later  that  his  eyes  are  wet  .      soon  after  ,      a  tear  rolls  down  his  cheek  ,      then  another  on  the  opposite  .

with  a  sniff  ,      grace  lifts  a  hand  ,      runs  his  knuckles  along  his  wet  cheek  and  then  the  other  .      after  a  knuckle  in  his  eyes  ,      he's  back  to  reading  the  singular  greeting  .       ❝ okay . ❞ it's  singular      …      but  it's  enough  .      enough  to  know  that  someone  remembers  this  is  his  home  ,      enough  to  know  that  someone  had  been  here  and  remembered  him  ,      not  just  as  the  astronaut  ,      but  as  the  junior  high  science  teacher  with  the  small  apartment  and  the  favorite  fox  magnets  on  his  refrigerator  .

the  most  logical  person  to  do  this  is  stratt  .      but  he  knows  how  indisposed  she  is  at  the  moment  .      still  ,      he  has  to  ask  :      he  has  to  know  .      the  prison  is  kind  enough  to  allow  him  a  phone  call  in  .      they  have  five  minutes  .      two  minutes  in  ,      he  mentions  the  apartment  .      her  response  is  less  than  optimal  ,      and  not  something  he  could  have  guessed  :      '  do  you  remember  a  woman  named  rosaria  ?  '

the  next  day  ,      he  visits  the  deli  .      the  person  at  the  counter  is  not  rosaria  .      he  asks  where  she  is  .      they  tell  him  she  no  longer  works  here  :      she  hasn't  worked  here  in  two  years  .      not  long  after  the  hail  mary  had  left  the  exosphere  .      for  a  moment  ,      he  stands  ,      considering  whether  or  not  he  wants  a  sandwich  .      if  his  system  would  accept  such  a  generous  helping  of  proteins  and  cheeses  yet  ,      or  if  he'd  find  himself  in  the  bathroom  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  .      he  decides  against  it  .      they  wouldn't  make  it  right  .      and  he'll  probably  get  sick  anyway  !      where  is  she  ,      he  asks  .      i'm  not  sure  ,      says  the  guy  at  the  counter  ,      and  ,      aren't  you  the  guy  who  came  back  from  space  ?

the deli is still her cafeteria, and the elderly owner still someone she marginally cares about. ( of course, there is also the fact that this is the only place grace would know to find her, if he were ever to look for her. )

and he does. he has returned, rested and recovered ( hopefully? ), and now standing in the deli like it was yesteryear.

she has imagined how it would go when she sees him again. sorry, she has practiced the word countless times, sorry for breaking into your house. she feels an apology would be the first thing she owes him, and then it would be more apologies on everything else she did following the break in: sorry for eating your ice cream. sorry for checking your mail. sorry for throwing away your cardboard boxes (but you had a pest situation).

“ you're back, ” what comes out of her is not the practiced speech — now when will she even get to use that speech — but a calm statement. it doesn't reflect the emotions in her stomach. she eyes the guy at the counter and makes a decision.

“ i got this one. ” she says to him as she moves past grace, giving him a small pat on the arm, “ sit down. i'll make you a sandwich. ”

double meat, beef and turkey, single cut. a slice of provolone, lettuce, tomatoes, the signature dressings that hasn't changed for decades. no mushrooms. never mushrooms. she grills both sides of the sandwich before plating it with fries and ketchup and mayo, then walks up to him, who seemed to be too emotional to find a seat himself as she asked him to.

# lasthail . hail  mary  ,        full  of  grace  , holy  mary  ,        mother  of  god  ,        pray  for  us  sinners  ,      now  and  at  the  hour  of  our  death  .

Independent ,     private ,   &.   plot-based  rp  blog  for  dr. captain ryland grace  from  andy weir's project hail mary  (novel)  &.   project hail mary  (2026) .  book-canon  with  movie  influences .  written  by  kat ,  she/her ,  30 .  i  am  not  affiliated  with  andy weir .     read  my  carrd  !     no  minors  please .

CUCKOO 2024 | dir. Tilman Singer

“Even in here?” they raised an eyebrow, “I’ve always preferred sitting. Preferably higher up but, well, the last time I decided to sleep overnight, the rain decided to bless us fortuitously.”

To save them the embarrassment from another cold, he’d decided not to do that again. And because it was somewhat quieter below than above.