#5. Management Consulting

[dvbusinessconsulting]

In today’s fast-paced Indian business environment, MSMEs must develop strategic agility—the capacity to proactively anticipate shifts, pivot strategies, and execute quickly. By integrating scenario planning, data analytics, and a flexible vision, small enterprises can outmaneuver larger competitors and thrive amid disruptions. Expert consulting, such as from D&V Business Consulting, provides the structured guidance to cultivate such agility, fostering sustainable growth through innovation, lean methods, and cross-functional teamwork.

[tkbrokkoli]

;v

[sixeyesonathiel]

satoru has appointed himself as your personal weather app and takes this responsibility very seriously.

like seriously seriously. we're talking obsessive refresh rates on three different weather apps, color-coded charts he's made in his notes app, and a literal spreadsheet tracking precipitation patterns in your area. you didn't ask for this. you didn't sign up for this. but here you are, getting updates every three hours like you're launching a space mission instead of walking to the grocery store.

“baby, it's gonna be cloudy at 2 pm, bring a jacket.”

“satoru, it's 85 degrees outside.”

“but what if the clouds make you cold? what if you get a chill? what if the sun disappears and you're left shivering and jacketless and i'm not there to warm you up?”

this man can see through buildings, can teleport across dimensions, can level city blocks with a flick of his wrist—but cannot trust you to dress yourself appropriately for the weather. the same person who will casually stroll into a category-5 cursed spirit domain wearing nothing but a smirk and overconfidence thinks you need a weather briefing to walk to the mailbox.

your phone buzzes at 6 am. “good morning beautiful! it's currently 72 degrees with a gentle breeze from the southwest. humidity is at 64%. uv index is moderate. wear sunscreen. i love you. also there's a 12% chance of scattered showers around 4 pm so maybe bring an umbrella? or don't go out. actually just stay inside. i miss you.”

you're still in bed. you haven't even opened your eyes. but satoru has already consulted four meteorologists and nasa's satellite imagery just to make sure you don't get slightly damp on your way to work.

he's got weather widgets covering his entire phone screen. animated radar maps bookmarked on his laptop. he follows local meteorologists on social media and has notifications turned on for weather emergencies within a 50-mile radius of your location. there's a barometric pressure app that sends him alerts when storms are brewing three days out.

“why don't you just check the weather yourself?” you ask, watching him frantically scroll through hourly forecasts like he's reading scripture. his hair is doing that thing where it sticks up in seventeen different directions, like he's been running his fingers through it while cross-referencing doppler radar.

“because i'm better at it,” he says, dead serious. his eyes do this weird shift thing when he's being particularly stubborn—like looking at ice through clear water, all refracted and impossible to pin down. “i cross-reference multiple sources. i analyze patterns. i care about accuracy. what if your weather app is wrong? what if it says sunny but there's actually a rogue cloud hovering over your exact coordinates? what if—”

“satoru.”

“what if you get caught in a surprise drizzle and your hair gets frizzy and you're sad about it? i can't let that happen. that's bad husband behavior.”

the dedication is honestly impressive. and slightly concerning. he's got backup plans for your backup plans. if there's a 20% chance of rain, he's already ordered you three different umbrellas and a waterproof jacket. if it's going to be windy, he's sending you hair ties and a gentle reminder to “please don't let the breeze bully you, baby.”

he's started leaving jackets in your car. in your office. in your gym bag. strategically placed hoodies throughout your life like little fabric safety nets. your friends have started calling him “weather dad” because he's somehow managed to text them about bringing jackets when you're all going out together.

“it's going to drop five degrees after sunset,” he announces, appearing in your doorway with a sweater draped over his arm like he's presenting royal robes. his mouth is doing that thing where it looks like he's trying not to smile but failing spectacularly. “i know you think you're fine but your body temperature runs low and i won't have you catching pneumonia on my watch.”

“it's july.”

“pneumonia doesn't follow a calendar, sweetheart.”

the worst part? he's usually right. that random tuesday when he insisted you bring a jacket even though it was 80 degrees and sunny? sudden thunderstorm at 3 pm. the day he made you pack an umbrella for your “quick coffee run”? surprise shower that lasted exactly seventeen minutes. he's got some kind of supernatural meteorological intuition that would be impressive if it weren't so much.

your weather app has become obsolete. why check when you've got your own personal early warning system who texts you things like “baby the barometric pressure is dropping can you feel it in your bones? are you experiencing any joint discomfort? should i come home early and make you soup?”

he's got your zip code memorized. your work address. your gym. your favorite coffee shop. he's got weather alerts set for every single location you visit regularly because what if there's a microclimate situation? what if it's sunny at home but somehow snowing at target?

“you know i survived twenty-plus years without a personal meteorologist,” you tell him, watching him check his phone for the fifteenth time during dinner. his thumb moves in these quick, anxious little taps across the screen, and the weather radar reflects in those ridiculous lashes that are somehow longer than yours.

“barely,” he says, not looking up from the extended ten-day forecast. when he concentrates like this, his hair falls forward in these soft, uneven pieces that catch the light like fresh snow in sunbeams. “look at this. 40% chance of rain on thursday. we need to start planning.”

“planning for what?”

“your outfit. your mood. your hair routine. your route to work. your—”

“satoru.”

“your happiness and general wellbeing which is directly tied to weather-related preparedness.”

you stare at him. he stares back with the most serious expression you've ever seen on his face, jaw set like he's about to negotiate world peace instead of discussing thursday's precipitation probability. there's this little crease between his eyebrows that only shows up when he's being particularly ridiculous about something he considers life-or-death important.

“thursday is five days away.”

“exactly. we're already behind schedule.”

the thing is, underneath all the meteorological madness, it's actually the sweetest thing in the world. he's not just checking the weather—he's checking on you. making sure you're comfortable, prepared, safe. he's weaponizing forecasts as an excuse to take care of you, and honestly? it's working.

so when thursday rolls around and you're perfectly dry under the umbrella he made you bring, when you're cozy in the jacket he insisted you grab, when you're prepared for the day because someone loves you enough to obsess over cloud formations—you can't even be mad about it.

“told you so,” he says smugly, wrapping his arms around you while rain patters against the window. his chin hooks over your shoulder, and you can feel his satisfied little hum vibrate through his chest.

“you're insane,” you mutter, but you're leaning back into him anyway, letting his warmth seep through your perfectly weather-appropriate layers. your head finds that spot where his collarbone meets his shoulder, where he always smells like whatever expensive soap he uses and something that's just purely him.

“and accurate,” he says, already checking friday's forecast over your shoulder. the screen casts this weird glow across his face, turns his hair into something that looks like it was spun from winter mornings and impossible things. “oh, look at that. 73 degrees and sunny. perfect hoodie weather. i should probably put one in your car just in case.”

“satoru—”

“and maybe some sunscreen. and a backup hair tie. and—”

you kiss him quiet. because he’s ridiculous and obsessive and treats weather patterns like military intelligence.

his phone clatters to the floor immediately—because of course it does, satoru has never met a phone he couldn’t drop the second your lips touch his. his hands find your face instead, fingers threading through your hair like he's been waiting all day for this exact moment. which, knowing him, he probably has.

“mmph—baby—” he tries to talk between kisses, which is so typical of him, can't even shut up when you’re literally kissing him. “the forecast though—”

“shut up about the forecast,” you laugh against his mouth, and he grins that stupid grin that makes your stomach flip.

“but what if it—”

you kiss him harder. his laugh rumbles through his chest, vibrates against your lips, and suddenly he's backing you against the counter, all long limbs and enthusiastic hands and zero concern for his poor phone that’s probably face-down on the kitchen tiles showing tomorrow’s temperature.

“okay, okay,” he breathes, pulling back just enough to look at you with those impossible eyes, pupils blown wide and hair even messier than before. “weather can wait.”

“weather can wait,” you agree, already pulling him back down.

(his phone buzzes from the floor. severe weather alert. neither of you care enough to hear it.)

[auxilionitcompanydublin]

5 posts!

[celestialtarot11]

Your FS personality and their lifestyle 💐🩷

Hey friends! Welcome back! As requested: here ya’ll go! My semester is ending and its been so crazy here as I’m getting ready to leave :) i hope you all enjoy the reading below. Any and all comments, reblogs and likes are sincerely appreciated! Keeps the blog active if you’d like to continue seeing more content. ☀️💐 I do love spring and lately im even more excited for the blessings summer will bring!

♡ Pile 1:

Hanged man, 6 of pentacles, king of cups, 9 of swords

Hey welcome here pile 1! Your FS is incredibly emotionally intelligent and aware of themselves and others <3 it’s so sweet I feel like they could be a vet, doctor, nurse or a practice at the moment. Even a school counselor, advisor, a researcher. They prefer to wear comfy luxurious clothing—nothing that screams in your face, but they come across as light on their feet, ethereal, graceful. I’m hearing they hold the room with ease meaning their energy is what captivates the room. Your FS is also someone who struggles a lot mentally because they are so aware, and this isn’t uncommon in intelligent people. Sometimes we know too much. Your person tries to think of all possible scenarios, outcomes, ideas, etc. it can get difficult to manage. They are curious, and love joking around and have this sense of home to them. Therefore they’ll also take care of the home too, they might have an established apartment/house. Something that really draws people in, and makes people wonder how they have that money to support themselves. They can also live alone at this time, but ate open to helping others. Super super generous and kind, they may have libra, or water placements in their chart 🤍 they see the good in others and try to elevate people. They are seen as stable, calming and supportive. I also feel like they have a lot of wisdom—you’ll know right off the bat of meeting them! You won’t need time second guess that they are intelligent <3 they can even have a pisces placement as well! Or you can meet them in a pisces month. Or this could be you with a pisces placement :) they do love spontaneous adventures like hiking, camping, anything to do with “home” and coming together they really enjoy. They can cook very well—i heard salmon soo they really enjoy cooking 😩 I’m talking really good salmon. Too tier food!! Its also aesthetically pleasing to look at, because they have an eye for detail. They also could be in a prominent position at their work right now where they are seen as again, an advisor, manager, admin, counselor, consultant of some kind and they generate a lot of money off of this. They don’t feel stressed out about their home life & financial situation! And if you need their help financially they will be there, they’re so blessed they are able to help others too <3 ultimate golden retriever energy. They might have blonde hair, leans ash blonde, dark blue eyes. They may have a youthful appearance, especially their cheeks and eyes make them look smaller and younger. They might have the smile of a wealthy person (im not sure how to describe this) its more of an energy of when they smile. For female I see brunette hair, she might have a business or job surrounding occupational therapy where she helps others. Your person likes ASMR lmao. Thanks so much to everyone reading this <3 I appreciate any and all support!

Craving more insights? I do personal readings too—deep, detailed, all about you. Tap [here] to get your own magical reading today! Limited spots, and I love tuning into your energy.

♡ Pile 2:

Knight of swords, knight of cups, strength, 5 of wands

Heyy welcome!! Thank yall for being here. Your person is so so conversational and wears their heart on their sleeve <3 you’ll see it right away. They are strong in their values and prefer to have relationships that are heart centered, touching and fun. They also like to be a fun person—not just someone who is nonchalant, im hearing they cant stand that energy! They give life so they need life. Possible zodiac signs include Leo, Aquarius/gemini. They are so talkative in a way that’ll have you giggling, they know exactly how to talk your ear off and they’re so sweet. They’re incredibly loyal to their friends and to you once you meet them. They may prefer to wear softer colors, colors that aren’t typically expected for their gender…? So they definitely could have experienced gender differences and double standards for sure. But they’ve honed in their identity now and aren’t afraid to show it. They are charismatic, enigmatic, they also may love synth music with a lot of reverb or just songs that sound ethereal. Like pastel ghost, crystal castles, etc. they have an electrifying presence and its zappy—and fun! They may seem one foot in the door way because their mind has so many tabs open lol. I feel that they are the type that when something great happens they think of you. “I cant wait to tell you about this moment.” And they’ll hold onto that for the rest of their day :) thats so cute. As for their family background i see a lot of tension, there’s disagreements and conflicts possibly because they do not have an education, or they took a different route that involves trade school. Or they were undervalued by their family a lot for being softer—people mistook that for weakness. It doesn’t even have to be family related it could be friends too. Their ex friends! They have worked on themselves emotionally and they have a lot of resilience and patience, and although sometimes they can speak without thinking, they mean well. Their brain just goes everywhere at once! Im hearing they could have ADHD too. They have a lot of big dreams, ideas, visions for their future! They often get overwhelmed by their fantasies because they sometimes dont know how to create it, how to cultivate it, or bring it into reality and hold it. Not just letting it in—but holding it. Allowing themselves to receive. They struggle with worthiness there. They can have a father figure who is very traditional, leans cold & distant and prefers logic over emotional matters. I also saw 11:11 as I write this! So even more confirmation for you. They honestly have a whimsical heart at best and although this father figure shunned it, they learned to reveal it elsewhere :) Thanks to everyone who has been here! Please like comment and reblog to boost <3

Craving more insights? I do personal readings too—deep, detailed, all about you. Tap [here] to get your own magical reading today! Limited spots, and I love tuning into your energy.

♡ Pile 3:

The fool, strength, magician, and 2 of cups

Hey welcome pile 3! Appreciate having you here :) your person is a interesting mix. Like a cocktail lol. They are free and adventurous and open but practice restraint and discipline. They don’t want to be reckless—they want to enjoy without hurting themselves which is a great trait to have. They are charismatic, powerful speakers even. They could have a job where they are a speaker, consultant, legal consultant is what I heard, they could be in therapy, social work, they could work with children in a way! They are seen as a strong leader, bold and cheerful and intelligent. They also feel confident in themselves to succeed and they are quite optimistic in their approach to life. Im hearing life dealt them a cold hand and so thats why they work with disadvantaged people, people who were oppressed and hidden by the system. Especially children. They remember what its like to be stuck. This person really truly cares about one on one connections, they don’t do well in group settings but they try. They mostly focus on seeing the person in front of them completely and because of this people get scared of intimacy is what I heard. Your person has a lot of emotional depth and even spiritual awareness. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were practicing spirituality or reconnecting with ancestral roots. They have healed and alchemized a lot of their past pain. Random note they may have a cat. Lol. Your person is incredibly loyal—but first they do come forward strong so people wouldn’t step all over them. Theres definitely apart of them that years for emotional comfort & their past, but this isn’t something people see easily unless you’re close to them. They love nurturing their inner child, their inner child comes out a lot in supportive connections. They are currently looking for that in their life <3 having someone else who is their other half. “You’re my sun, im your moon” is what I heard aww. Thats cute. This person is hopeful they’ll be meeting you soon! I wonder if you’ve also been in sync with this person energetically and receive so many signs and dreams about them lol. Almost drives you nuts! But you love it :) speaking about nuts they might be allergic to it. Kinda random lolll. Their possible signs could be in a water sign (cancer scorpio pisces) or fire! Thanks to everyone being here! <3

Craving more insights? I do personal readings too—deep, detailed, all about you. Tap [here] to get your own magical reading today! Limited spots, and I love tuning into your energy.

Extra

Thank you all once again for being here <3 your follows are sincerely appreciated!

Paid readings🩷

[matrix-fairy]

In the Matrix Destiny chart, the number at the orange point marked with an X shows which professions and jobs are suitable for you. You can adapt this to each of your jobs and professions, and activate the energy of money in your life.

There is a 2 DAY SALE with a SAME DAY DELIVERY on my shop for the end of January. Limited stock available. 🎀 Book a reading with me!

1 - Professions that are unconventional, not very common, and where you can apply theoretical knowledge to practice.

2 - Professions where you can use your creativity, solve problems, and help others.

3 - Professions where you are in a responsible role (manager, business owner, teacher, etc.) and where men can work with women, providing you with opportunities to shine.

4 - Management of money and creative fields for women, physical labor or group management for men.

5 - Professions that require organization and rules, with a clear, profitable outcome from the service provided (like a doctor's diagnosis).

6 - Any profession related to communication, with opportunities to rise in beauty/design fields.

7 - Professions involving movement, such as sports, tourism, military, or those combined with transportation/logistics.

8 - Professions involving advocacy, analysis, and a clear, structured process.

9 - Teaching, roles where you can share your knowledge and expertise.

10 - Managing teams, working in large office environments, and collaborating with similar professionals.

11 - Professions requiring physical strength, activity, and leadership roles.

12 - Professions related to helping people, nature, and creativity.

13 - Professions that may be challenging or chaotic, such as managing emergencies and crisis situations.

14 - Professions combining art, creativity, tourism, and entertainment.

15 - Leading large groups, helping individuals with dependencies, and working in various environments.

16 - Professions involving frequent travel, business trips, and communication/travel-related work.

17 - Professions where you can be in the spotlight, recognized on screen or social media (within your industry).

18 - Professions related to literature, art, information technology, where you can also engage in additional work like tarot reading due to your strong intuition and interpretative skills.

19 - Working with large audiences or followers, working for international companies, and finding happiness and passion in your chosen profession.

20 - Professions in the information industry, consultancy, spiritual fields, or writing.

21 - Global companies/brands, international presence, creating English content on social media, tourism/hospitality sector.

22 - As long as you enjoy it, the specific profession is less important, with flexible working hours, being your own boss, and more leadership-oriented roles.

[simplygojo]

Friend-Of-A-Friend ⸺ Chapter Five

author's note ⸺ HEY FRIENDS!!! Chapter 5 is finally up!!. My apologies for the delay my laptop simply just hates me, LOL. I hope you are all doing well, and thank you so much for all of your comments/feedback on this series, it means the world <3 pairing ⸺ Suguru Geto x Reader content ⸺ corporate-worker!reader, emotional tension, alcohol use, modern au, the good-ole-days trope, sexual themes mentioned, reader uses female pronouns, taglist at end, 3.4k, this is an 18+ series - mdni

divider credit: @/toastray ୨୧ art credit: @/juziluohai

previous chapter ୨୧ series masterlist ୨୧ next chapter

*3 Years Prior: Business Association Ball*

The hotel lobby shimmered with that brand of over-polished elegance reserved for galas and business formals—too many chandeliers, too much marble, and the kind of ambient jazz that made your heels sound louder than they should. 

The three of you stepped in together—Gojo in a navy suit already half-unbuttoned, Geto head to toe in charcoal black, all clean lines and quiet confidence, and you in a dress you weren’t totally convinced wasn’t a little too short.

Geto’s gaze flicked toward your legs for less than a second, then up—never lingering, but not hurried either. His expression stayed neutral, but he straightened beside you like something about the sight had realigned him. 

He adjusted the lapel of his jacket, one thumb brushing down the fabric as if smoothing a crease that wasn’t there.

“Remind me why we’re here again?” you muttered, clutching the tiny purse that barely fit your phone.

“Because I’m charming and persuasive,” Gojo said, flashing a grin that had gotten you both into trouble more than once. “And because they’re giving out free drinks.”

“He means because our professor bullied him into coming,” Geto added, deadpan, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt as he eyed the already-forming crowd inside the ballroom.

The doors stood open, gold trim gleaming, and beyond them, the event buzzed with early arrivals—small clusters of students, faculty, and alumni already sipping from stemware and circling the charcuterie like moths around cheese. 

Gojo beelined to the bar the moment you stepped in, dragging Geto behind him with a dramatic sigh. You followed, the smooth glide of Geto’s shoulder brushing yours in the slow push of the crowd.

The bartender barely blinked when Gojo leaned on the counter. 

“Three of your finest cocktails,” he said. “Make 'em strong enough to make our internships feel fake.”

He tapped the edge of the counter twice for dramatic flair, then added, “And nothing pink, please. I’m trying to look like I pay rent on time.”

The bartender, a man in a crisp black vest who looked like he’d heard every variation of that line, raised a single brow before turning away. 

Gojo leaned back on his elbows, surveying the room like a self-appointed social director.

“You ever think we peaked in first year?” He asked absolutely no one in particular.

“I think you peaked when you printed business cards that said ‘Idea Man…’” Geto replied, rolling his cuff once, then folding it again with careful precision.

You nodded in solemn agreement. “And misspelled ‘consulting.’”

“I stand by that branding,” Gojo said, unfazed. “It was bold. Disruptive.”

Before he could launch into a TED Talk, the bartender slid three martinis across the counter—crystal clear, elegantly brutal, each with a gleaming olive skewered on a thin silver pick.

Gojo grabbed it with both hands like it was a cursed object. “Oh god,” he said. “They’re… classic martinis?”

“Congratulations,” Geto said. “You’ve been served like an adult.”

Gojo held it up suspiciously. “I thought they’d at least taste like citrus or joy.”

You lifted your glass more carefully, giving it a cautious swirl before taking the smallest sip. The gin hit sharp and cold, like chewing ice through a fog of pine. Not your favourite. But manageable. 

You could totally stomach this and pretend you had big opinions on the ethics of insurance companies.

Your eyes drifted over to Geto, who didn’t flinch when he took a sip. 

A faint ripple moved through the line of his throat as he swallowed it, and when he lowered his glass, his eyes met yours across the rim—steady, dark, and unexpectedly close in the space between words. 

Heat bloomed low in your cheeks before you could stop it, and your gaze darted away, sudden and sharp, like the snap of a rubber band. You busied yourself with your glass, fingers adjusting your grip on the stem as though it might anchor you from—whatever that was.

Gojo took one sip, coughed, then recoiled like he’d been personally insulted. 

“This tastes like regret in a stemmed glass,” he sputtered. “Why would anyone willingly drink this? I feel like I’m being punished by the British Empire.”

You snorted, nearly spilling yours. “You asked for this.”

“No, I asked for charisma in a cup. This is… anti-charisma. This is what spies drink when they’ve lost the will to live.”

Geto, unfazed, clinked his glass against yours. “To second year.”

“And to surviving third year...” you muttered, bumping his glass gently.

Gojo, still scowling, gave in and raised his reluctantly. “Annndddd to the poor choices of the past, and the even worse ones to come.”

You all drank to that—well, sipped slowly. 

Gojo winced again. “There’s something else in here. Is that… despair?”

“Olive brine,” Geto said.

“Same thing,” Gojo muttered.

୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧

Time slid by in a blur of clinking glasses and half-remembered names. You saw classmates drift in and out—some lingering for polite conversation, others waving on their way to the buffet or vanishing into alumni circles that orbited the room like planets with more polished resumes. 

The air had warmed with bodies and soft chatter, jazz fading into a slightly more modern lounge mix that still made your heels echo like punctuation. 

Gojo, despite the occasional impulse to flirt or flit, had stubbornly claimed a post near the bar. “Best view in the house,” he insisted, gesturing vaguely at the room like it was all part of his domain. 

He wasn’t wrong—the bar sat just high enough above the ballroom floor to make people-watching an art form.

You set your glass down with a soft clink, the olive tilting in the swirl of clear gin. 

The buzz of conversation around the ballroom had risen—laughter bouncing off marble, the clink of glass against glass. 

Someone passed behind you a little too close, and Geto’s hand briefly touched the small of your back. Just a gentle, steadying thing—gone almost as quickly as it had come. 

You didn’t say anything, didn’t look at him. But you felt it.

Gojo made a face, eyeing the crowd like he was above this all. “God. Everyone here just gets tipsy and talks about themselves.”

“Well,” you said, taking another sip, “you should fit right in.”

Geto laughed—quiet but sudden, like you’d caught him off guard. The sound of it sent a little pulse of satisfaction through your chest before you could stop it. 

Not because it was loud or dramatic, but because it was him.

You didn’t say anything about it. Just tucked the moment away somewhere small and stupid and yours.

Gojo narrowed his eyes at you both. 

“I’m feeling very attacked, and I haven’t even started talking about my brand yet.”

“Please don’t,” Geto said mildly, but you could see the curve at the corner of his mouth—lazy, amused.

Gojo had already tuned you both out, eyes scanning the room like a periscope. 

Then he straightened, too fast to be casual. “Wait. Redhead. Nine o’clock.”

You followed his gaze. There she was—sleek hair, red lipstick, the kind of neckline that made Gojo’s eyebrows do that cartoon-arched thing.

“Oh nooo,” you muttered.

“Oh yes,” he said. “I know her. I think she once offered me an internship and then took it back when I made a dumb joke about crypto.”

Geto gave him a flat look. “I’d take it back too.”

“She laughed,” Gojo said defensively. “It just... wasn’t the right demographic.”

“Human?” You offered.

“She’s here with the Ryker crowd,” Geto said, scanning the name badges. “Probably recruiting.”

Gojo straightened his already crooked tie. “Well, I’m here to be recruited as long as she's the one doin’ it. Don’t wait up for me!”

Then he was gone, already halfway across the ballroom, weaving between groups like he was born to navigate cocktail politics and ambient jazz.

You shook your head, turning back to the bar—and found Geto already looking at you, one brow lifted, the faintest smile lingering like he’d never been surprised by Gojo in his life.

“Should we start a Gojo survival fund? Or just bet on how fast it’ll take that girl to realize he’s a total loser?” You said with a teasing smile spread across your lips

Geto chuckled, low and warm. “Depends. Is the over-under set before or after he forgets her name?”

You laughed, feeling the buzz of the martini finally catch up to you—just enough to soften the edges of the room, just enough to make the look he was giving you feel closer, somehow.

A pause settled between you, not awkward, but full. 

The kind of quiet that didn’t ask to be filled. Geto’s eyes didn’t wander the way Gojo’s always did in a crowd. 

Your hand tightened slightly around the stem of your glass. “You’re not gonna go network or charm alumni into funding your mysterious nonprofit dreams?”

His smile curved a little deeper, but his steady gaze never left yours. “And give up premium seats at the bar?”

You huffed a soft laugh, glancing down at your glass like it might offer a clever reply. “Big sacrifice.”

Geto leaned a little closer, elbow grazing the bar, eyes still on you as his face became a few inches closer. 

“Besides,” he added, voice quieter now, “I think Gojo’s covering enough social ground for all of us.”

You followed his gaze for a second—just long enough to see Gojo doing finger guns at that beautiful redheaded woman—and shook your head. “God help her.”

Geto hummed, something like agreement, then lapsed back into that comfortable silence that had begun to feel oddly intimate. 

You weren’t often left alone with Geto. It wasn’t something you were particularly used to. 

Usually, if Gojo stepped away, you followed—or you went home—partly out of habit, partly because Gojo had a way of taking the center of gravity with him. 

But this wasn’t the kind of event where slipping out was easy. Name tags, assigned tables, and too many professors watching. 

So you stayed. And so did Geto.

It wasn’t awkward, exactly—just unfamiliar. You didn’t have a blueprint for how to pass time with him one-on-one. 

With Gojo around, there was always noise, a buffer of jokes and movement. Without it, everything just… settled. A little quieter. A little slower. You could hear the hum of the room more clearly now—silverware clinking, muffled laughter, the velvety scrape of heels across marble.

Then the bartender reappeared, wiping his hands on a bar towel, eyes flicking between the two of you like he was interrupting something.

“Another round?” He asked, already reaching for your empty glasses.

You glanced at Geto. “Feel like a change?”

“I’ll just take whatever she’s having,” Geto added, nodding toward you with the smallest lift of his chin.

“You don’t even know what I’m ordering.”

“Don’t need to,” he said, the corner of his mouth tilting up. “You’ve got good taste.”

You gave a half-laugh, shaking your head as you turned back to the bartender. “Two espresso martinis. Shaken with Baileys, please.”

“Of course,” he said, already moving like he’d expected that answer.

As he turned away, you caught the way Geto’s gaze lingered a second longer than necessary—on the back of the bartender’s hands, on the movement of bottles behind the bar, then back to you. Not with any urgency. Just that same steady, quiet presence he carried like second nature.

“You always this decisive with drinks?” He asked.

“Only the important ones,” you replied, nudging your elbow lightly against the bar. “Coffee and alcohol. Life essentials.”

“Makes sense,” he murmured. “You always did show up to morning lectures more awake than the rest of us. I thought you were just naturally energetic.”

You gave a dramatic shudder. “God, no. Caffeine and fear. That’s what is getting me through undergrad.”

He chuckled again, and the sound—dry and warm and just a little private—settled between you like the start of a shared secret.

***Present Day***

“Oh god yeah, I remember that night…” Your smile curved slow, amused. “Wait… wasn’t that when Gojo tried to charm that redhead girl from Ryker?”

Geto let out a short laugh, already shaking his head. “Yup, and I don’t remember either of us being surprised.”

You grinned. “She looked like she ate interns for breakfast.”

“She probably does,” he said. “And I’m sure Gojo thought he was volunteering.”

You laughed. “He really straightened his tie like he was walking into a date and not a corporate slaughter.”

Geto smirked. “He didn’t even have his own tie. He borrowed mine.”

“Oh my god, you’re right.” You leaned forward, the memory coming back in full detail. “He didn’t come back the rest of the night.”

“Nope.” Geto took a sip of his drink, watching you over the rim. “And when we asked the next morning, he said, and I quote, ‘She had recruiting energy, but not the kind I was hoping for.’”

You burst out laughing, covering your mouth. “He totally thought he had a shot.”

“He always thinks he has a shot.”

You tilted your glass in his direction. “And honestly? I respect the delusion.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you sipped, the old rhythm between you falling back into place like no time had passed.

He looked over again, a little more curious this time. “So… what about you? Anything new? It’s been a while—catch me up.”

You gave a casual shrug, though your fingers tapped once against the glass. “Honestly? Nothing too thrilling.”

Geto didn’t say anything—just nodded, giving you space to speak.

“I ended up at that insurance company,” you said. “Kind of by default, really. It was the only offer I got after graduation.”

He raised his eyebrows, not surprised, just listening.

“And I don’t hate it,” you added quickly. “I like some of the people there. One of the analysts bakes bread every Sunday and brings it in on Monday mornings. That alone is keeping morale up on our whole floor.”

He grinned. “Bread-based workplace cohesion. Very modern.”

You pointed at him with your martini glass. “Exactly. That’s the real culture fit.”

He chuckled softly, leaning back in his seat, letting the glow of your laughter settle between you.

“But…” you went on, letting your voice trail slightly, “my contract’s up in a few months. So I’ve been poking around. Checking out other jobs. Nothing’s really grabbed me yet.”

“Are you looking for the same kind of thing?”

You hesitated. “I don’t know. I guess I thought I was. But every time I scroll through a job board I just feel… tired.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “That’s not nothing.”

You let out a breath, your thumb tracing the rim of your glass as your eyes instinctively avoided his. “Yeah. I mean, it’s not bad. I’m just not sure it’s meant for me, you know?”

Geto’s glass tilted slightly in his hand, the chocolate-coloured liquid catching a bit of the candlelight and flickering like something alive. Around you, the bar buzzed with a low hum—ice rattling in shakers, someone’s laugh punctuating the air too loudly, a spoon clinking against a ceramic mug.

“I think you always knew what didn’t feel right,” he said, voice warm and laced with a familiar sense of reassurance.

Your lips curved faintly, but the muscles around your mouth stayed still for a second longer. Then you exhaled through your nose, barely audible.

“I guess I just thought I’d have it figured out by now,” you said, setting your glass down with the kind of precision that didn’t match your words. The condensation left a faint ring on the napkin below, perfectly round.

His eyes followed the motion, then flicked back to yours.

A beat passed. Then another.

“And yet,” he said, mouth tugging slightly, “here you are. Still here, doing alright.”

You let out a dry laugh. “What a glowing review.”

He shrugged with one shoulder, the movement easy. “Surviving in this economy? That’s not easy work y’know. You’re a smart girl, you’ll figure it out.”

The words landed heavier than they should have, a prickle started at the base of your neck, low and slow, blooming upward until the heat kissed the tops of your cheeks. 

You shifted in your seat, brushed a knuckle under your nose—trying your best to hide it, and dropped your gaze for a half-second to the condensation sliding lazily down the stem of your glass. 

The feeling clung stubbornly, but you pushed through it, lifting your head again with a small, practiced smile—like wiping steam off a mirror and pretending you hadn’t noticed it clouding over in the first place.

You leaned forward a little, elbow propped on the table, fingers curled around the stem of your glass. 

“What about you?” You asked, not quite letting the question linger. “You said you were doing like, charity outreach? Tell me about that, sounds just like something you’d do?”

You waited, but didn’t push—just like he would do

Geto glanced down and adjusted the watch on his wrist, as if it suddenly needed attention. 

“Sort of,” he said. “I’m with a philanthropic division now. Private company. They fund youth programs—stuff like financial literacy workshops, math clubs in elementary schools, mentorship programs for kids who are good with numbers but don’t have a lot of support.”

His voice carried an unassuming fulfillment, shaped by something older than ambition. Across the small table, his hands moved gently as he spoke—one resting on the base of his glass, the other making the faintest, unconscious gesture you've always noticed he does when talking.

“I’m on the financial operations side of things,” he went on. 

“Budgets, project proposals, making sure the funding actually gets to the right schools. It’s a lot of board meetings and a lot of spreadsheets, but... It’s good. It feels real.”

The bar lights shifted overhead as someone passed by, throwing a warm flicker across his face. It caught in the quiet focus in his eyes, the steadiness in his posture. His gaze didn’t move, but something softened in it—a flicker, almost imperceptible, like the last edge of a candle flame before it settles.

You watched him a second longer than you meant to, struck—maybe not by what he said, but by how he said it with that quiet conviction that never needed to be declared to feel present.

“It suits you,” you said, lightly—but not flippantly.

His eyes flicked to you, steady. Then down again. “You think so?”

“Mhm.” You swirled your glass, the condensation leaving a faint ring on the table. “Helping the next generation reach their potential. Making sure the math checks out. It’s a very selfless thing to do ya’ know…That’s very you.”

That earned you a subtle shift in his mouth—too brief to be a smile, too sincere to be anything else.

“You say that like you mean it,” he murmured.

You blinked, a little thrown—not by the words, but by how softly he said them.

“I do,” you replied, after a second. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

He nodded—slow, thoughtful. The kind of nod people do when they’re not just hearing you, but tucking the words away. You watched his jaw shift slightly, his gaze dipping for a second toward his glass, like the weight of your honesty had to be set down somewhere.

Then, quieter still: “Still. Nice to hear.”

You studied him—the deliberate calm of him, the way he filled silence like it was a language he’d grown fluent in. And for a second, the noise of the bar fell away. Just the warm light, the low clink of glasses, and him—sitting across from you like no time had passed at all.

“Yeah, well.” You reached for your glass again, fingertips brushing the wet ring it left behind. “You’re not that hard to root for.”

He let out a breath—one of those faint exhalations that lived somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. But his eyes stayed on you.

“You used to say I was annoying.”

You leaned back slightly, arching a brow. “I said you were cocky.” Your voice was playful, edged just lightly with something warmer. “Different thing.”

“Hm.” He tilted his head, like he was pretending to consider it, but there was a pull at the corner of his mouth again—more a flicker than a grin. The kind of expression that made you wonder what memory he’d just stepped into.

Your knees bumped beneath the table, a small, almost accidental thing. But neither of you pulled away.

The touch lingered, as quiet and steady as the rest of him.

Neither of you spoke. The silence stretched, comfortable—not heavy, but full, like something unfolding slowly between sips and glances and the warmth shared beneath the table.

Outside, the night went on.

But here, in the hush between words, something had shifted.

Just enough for you both to feel it.

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[dvbusinessconsulting]

The article discusses the importance of bridging the gap between strategy and execution in businesses, particularly for Small and Medium Enterprises (SMEs) and manufacturing facilities. It highlights the role of Performance Improvement Consulting Services, Business Process Excellence Consulting Services, and Manufacturing Consulting Services in helping companies achieve tangible results and sustainable growth. By leveraging these services, businesses can overcome common bottlenecks and achieve quantifiable success

[13lunarstar]

Planets and careers in Vedic astrology

Surya (Sun) – The King (Ego & Self)

Keywords: leadership, authority, ambition, responsibility, governance

Sun-ruled nakshatras: Kritikka (Aries-Taurus), Uttara Phalguni (Leo-Virgo), Uttara Ashadha (Sagittarius-Capricorn)

Professions & industries:

Government service, IAS/IPS/administrative officers

Politics, ministers, heads of institutions

Judiciary, law enforcement

Leadership roles in corporations (CEO/Director)

Jewellery (like gold, diamonds), luxury goods

Medicine (especially heart-related)

Public sector enterprises

2. Chandra (Moon) – The Queen (Mind)

Keywords: emotions, nurturing, mental stability, public appeal

Moon-ruled nakshatras: Rohini (Taurus), Hasta (Virgo), Shravana (Capricorn)

Professions & industries:

Hospitality & tourism, hotels, catering, restaurants

Healthcare (especially nursing, women's health, psychiatry, obstetrics & paediatrics)

FMCG (fast-moving consumer goods), dairy, liquids, water-based industries

Real estate, especially residential

History research

Teaching and caregiving

Counselling, social work

Public relations, mass communication

3. Budha (Mercury)—the Prince (Intellect)

Keywords: Intelligence, communication, business acumen, analysis

Mercury- ruled nakshatras: Ashlesha (Cancer), Revati (Pisces), Jyeshtha (Scorpio)

Professions & industries:

Finance, accounting, sales, entrepreneurship

Writing, journalism, publishing

Scientific research

IT, software, data analytics

Legal advisors, consultants

Medicine, pharmaceuticals

Teaching, training

Traders, brokers, commission agents

Transportation & logistics

Marketing, advertising, media

4. Shukra (Venus) -the Minister (Pleasure)

Keywords: beauty, aesthetics, luxury, love, comfort, service, creativity

Venus-ruled nakshatras: Bharani (Aries), Purva Phalguni (Leo), Purva Ashadha (Sagittarius)

Profession & industries:

Arts, music, dance, singing, fashion, design

Film and entertainment industry

Cosmetics, spa, beauty industry

Jewellery, luxury goods

Relationship counselling, marriage agencies

Hospitality and tourism

Event management, interior design

Diplomacy, public relations

5. Mangala (Mars) – the Commander (Action)

Keywords: Assertiveness, strength and endurance, ambition, energy, competition

Mars-ruled nakshatras: Mrigashira (Taurus - Gemini), Dhanishta (Capricorn - Aquarius), Chitra (Virgo - Libra)

Professions & industries:

Army, police and defence services

Engineering, mechanical, civil, hardware

Leadership roles in corporations

Logistics, transportation, aviation

Surgery, emergency medicine

Sports and physical training

Firefighting, rescue services

Real estate, construction & maintenance

Weapons, arms, steel, chemicals

Entrepreneurs, especially in competitive sectors

6. Guru (Jupiter) – the Teacher (Wisdom)

Keywords: knowledge, dharma, expansion, ethics, wealth (spiritual and/or material)

Jupiter-ruled nakshatras: Punarvasu (Gemini - Cancer), Vishakha (Libra - Scorpio), Purva Bhadrapada (Aquarius - Pisces)

Professions & industries:

Teaching, education, professors

Religious and spiritual leaders

Law, legal profession, judiciary

Finance, investment, banking, wealth management

Counselling, mentoring, life coaching

Philosophy, publishing, writing

Medical (especially Ayurveda, holistic healing)

NGOs, charitable organisations

7. Shani (Saturn) – the Servant (Worker)

Keywords: labour, discipline, longevity, realism, service, duty, responsibility

Saturn-ruled nakshatras: Pushya (Cancer), Anuradha (Scorpio), Uttara Bhadrapada (Pisces)

Professions & industries:

Labour-intensive industries, mining, agriculture

Factory work, construction, infrastructure

Civil services, judiciary, and social work

Middle and senior management (gradual career advancement)

Law enforcement, auditors, and quality control

Clerks, office staff, and time-management roles

Old-age care, long-term care facilities

Iron, coal, oil, heavy industry

Research, long-term planning roles

8. Rahu - the North Node (Material desires)

Keywords: desire, illusion, mysticism, modernity, forward-thinking & innovation, eccentricity, foreign influence

Rahu-ruled nakshatras: Ardra (Gemini), Swati (Libra), Shatabhisha (Aquarius)

Professions & industries:

Technology, IT, AI, digital platforms

Foreign trade, immigration, import-export, entrepreneurship

Film, media, photography, advertising

Aviation, space, online business

Speculation, cryptocurrency, stocks

Espionage, intelligence, hacking

Political manipulation, lobbying

Unconventional professions (e.g., esoteric)

Psychology

9. Ketu - the South Node (detachment, depth)

Keywords: isolation, introspection, wisdom, renunciation, mysticism

Ketu-ruled nakshatras: Ashwini (Aries), Magha (Leo), Mula (Sagittarius)

Professions & industries:

Spirituality, mystics, monks

Research, investigation, archaeology

Parapsychology, astrology, metaphysics

IT (especially backend or anonymous work)

Healthare: pharmaceuticals, virology, immunology

Security, cyber protection

Medical surgery (especially undercover or obscure fields)

Houses and objects to check in D1 and D10 divisional charts

The D1 Chart:

To check:

10th lord: The main planet for the profession.

Atmakaraka: Soul’s desire—can show core career direction

Amatyakaraka: Advisor planet - signifies profession and working style

1st House (Lagna) -determines your general disposition, leadership capacity, and work style

2nd House - indicates earned income prospects, speech (important in communication careers), and skills

6th House - very important for job-type careers, legal fields, employment, competition, enemies, analysing financial debts

7th House - career involving clients, partnerships, business and diplomacy

10th House - primary house for career, leadership & authority, and recognition in society.

11th House - income prospects from work, professional networks, promotions.

The D10 chart:

10th house's lord in the D10 chart: The main planet for the profession.

Atmakaraka (from the D1 Chart): Soul’s desire—can show core career direction

Amatyakaraka (from the D1 Chart): Advisor planet - signifies profession and working style

1st House (Lagna of D10) - how you project yourself, appear in the professional world, public role

6th House - daily work, office dynamics, overcoming obstacles in career

7t house - dealing with others in career, clients, professional partnerships

9th House - Jupiter’s blessings, ethical conduct, long-term fortune in career

10th House - main house for profession, title, honors, and career legacy

11th House - promotions, gains from profession, social status

[kquil]

POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS PART 5

05 : DRUNK AND CIGARETTE SMOKE

SUM : It’s been a few weeks and James makes a reappearance in your life, Remus too — they’ve fallen into bad habits. 

G. : modern au ; muggle au ; tattoo artist james potter ; piercer remus lupin ; remus smokes ; drunk james ; reader is sad ; this is a little sad chapter ; fergus is an amazing, lovable manager ; i’m horrible at writing the scottish accent! ; james is an adorable drunk ; james’ car is sexy and red ; remiss has eye bags and smells of cigarette smoke ; uh oh ; it’ll get better soon! 

LENGTH : 2.8k

← PREV. : 04 | DISAPPEAR

You stare in disbelief at the notice that stares back at you mockingly from behind the glass door of the ‘Marauders Tattoo Parlour’. 

‘NOTICE’ it said in bold red sharpie, right above a handwritten message that you recognise as Remus’ neat penmanship, ‘due to personal reasons, Prongs, Padfoot and I (Moony) will be keeping the parlour closed until further notice. We kindly ask that you remain patient as private matters are being sorted through and resolved. We are still open for online and phone consultations to discuss designs and potential future appointments. Kindest Regards, The Marauders’. Beneath the polite and brief explanation of current circumstances was a business email address and phone number as well as working times for phone calls. 

The weeks following your discovery of the boys’ true relationship, you rarely ever passed their parlour. A little over three weeks has passed now and you’ve finally been able to walk past their studio doors close enough to read the notice. You’re frozen in place as dread and worry cultivates shards of sharpened ice to grow within you. Freezing up your senses, freezing up your mind and freezing up limbs. Yet, your heart is racing like never before, your blood pounding against your ears like a drummer gone mad. 

The feeling that settled in your stomach wasn’t a pleasant one, especially when you felt completely responsible for the boys’ sudden hiatus in business. They had often talked to you about how much the parlour meant to them, how it was their best investment and remains their biggest source of opportunity — an opportunity to help people express themselves. It’s a form of freedom that many have been deprived of (themselves included) and they were honoured to now be able to provide that same freedom to others. For them to completely close up shop like this was completely bizarre. 

How long have they been closed for?

You bite your lip and will yourself to move your feet, the ice in your limbs breaking uncomfortably, shattering into a million knives of ice, shooting pins and needles up your arms and legs as if your blood had been frozen up too. As you walk away, you slip your phone back into your pocket, where your hands also remain. 

While contemplating what could have happened to your favourite tattooists and piercer, you made sure to save a picture of their business phone number onto your photos. 

You were never able to call their business number. And you had many excuses lined up to absolve your cowardly behaviour. The main one being that it was their business number, it wasn’t meant to be used for a conversation between friends. Were you even still friends at this point? The thought made you shiver and stole the appetite right from your stomach. It was a greedy little thing cowardice, regret too. They’ve stolen many things from you, your appetite was their favourite thing to purloin, motivation another, happiness as well. Nasty, selfish and greedy thieves. But you weren’t brave enough to confront them and make them stop. And that, alone, makes you their willing accomplice — so who’s really to blame? 

It didn’t help that through this entire ordeal, you’ve realised that none of the boys have exchanged phone numbers with you. To say that you were bitter was an understatement. If they never gave you their number, why would they want you ringing them in the first place? 

…maybe they didn’t have a reason to? You couldn’t remember a single time after the day you first brought them that homemade ‘thank you’ lunch where you hadn’t seen them on a regular basis. And now that you were used to seeing them almost daily, your life has since been bleeding of colour and vibrance. Days are dull and monotonous, it’s hard to motivate yourself to do pretty much anything, let alone your job.

“Yer’ve been sighin’ so much these days, I’m startin’ to see wrinkles forming’ on yer cute lil’ face lass,” Furgus comments, nudging your hip with his own as he passes by you behind the counter. 

Flustered, you scramble to get back to work with a quick apology, evidence of your embarrassment heating up your cheeks as you do so, “I’m so sorry Gus,”

With hearty laugh, the burly Scottish man pats you on the back and whispers some reassuring words, “Yer’ve got nothin’ ta worry about lass, I jus’ wan’ed ta see if you were al’ight is all,”

“I’m okay,” you smile grateful for his care only to be met with suspicious eyes and a deep, bearded frown. 

“Don’t grow a habit o’ lyin’ ta me lass, it won’t do ya any good,” his words make more heat rise to your cheeks but you reassure him as best as you can in between taking orders and serving drinks. It was no use however, Fergus saw you as his own daughter, he knew you like the back of his hand and you know that he had his suspicions of your odd behaviour lately — all derived from a sadness he didn’t like you wearing. Thankfully, he decided to leave you alone with your sorrow and regret and focused back on managing the pub. Tonight was pretty average, you saw the regulars and greeted them with a friendly smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes; if any of them noticed, they never said a thing about it to you. Thank god. 

It seemed like it would be another regular night until you caught sight of a familiar figure in the corner of your eye. You had just gotten back from your break when you spot James at a far table, nursing a pint and buried under a sheet of suffocating misery all on his lonesome. 

“James?” you breathed in disbelief with a wide-eyed stare directed right at him. 

“You know that guy?” Bonnie, your coworker, asks in a whisper into your ear and you had no choice but to nod your head in confirmation — you’ve already outed yourself, there was no point in lying, “well he’s been drinkin’ himself to death for the past hour or so, what’s gotten into him? D’ya know?”

“No…” you’re a liar. 

“Well ya be’er find out or else imma have ta kick the poor bastard outta ‘ere,” Fergus comments, his arms folded over his large chest and his brows knitted together in disapproval. 

“May I—…?” you begin to ask softly, sending a curious look towards Fergus who meets your eyes with a small smile and a wink. 

“Consider yerself off fer da night,” with a smile, you thank him and take a breath before making your way over to the miserable tattooist. 

“Angel!” James smiles happily at the sight of you, his drunken state adding an adorable dopiness to his already charming grin, “It’s you~” he coos and wraps his arms around your middle to bury his face into your stomach when you were close enough, “I missed you so much, angel~” he sighs, his voice muffled by your clothes as he refuses to detach himself from you, “even if this is just another dream…” you barely hear him and you almost curse yourself from being able to because his words make your heart drop to your stomach. 

“James,” you ask softly, “can you please get up?” 

“Why?” he shuffles to press his chin into your lower belly and stare up at you with those sweet hazel eyes of his. The sneaky bastard, he knows how weak at the knees you become from his simple stare. You’ve never told him so and often put in the effort to not show it but you know, he knows. 

“Because you need to go home,” he gives an incredulous look at your reasoning and he’s adorable doing so, even in his drunken state. 

“Why would I need to do that when you’re right here?” he slurs and hiccups, your heart pounding erratically at his words.  

“James please—”

“No!”

“James—”

“‘m not going home! I wanna stay here with you,” he presses his face into your stomach again and sobs into your clothes, “you’re gonna disappear again,” he sobs miserably, “I don’t want that…” 

“Please just let me call you a taxi James?” he doesn’t respond, pressing his face further into your stomach as you comb your fingers through his dark hair, you touch gentle and comforting, coaxing him into some compliance, “remind me of your address again and I’ll call you a taxi, okay?”

“NO!” 

You suppress a defeated sigh. 

It takes several minutes of coaxing until you’re finally able to take his phone from him. He refuses to let you call him a taxi and you weren’t going to force him to walk home alone in his drunken state so you’re going to have to do the one thing you can think of that’ll guarantee his safe return home. Not that you’ll enjoy it because it means confrontation. 

“Can you tell me your passcode, please, James?” you ask in a gentle whisper, only to him, “I need to do something very important on your phone,”

With a large smile he recites the digits, “22nd of the 6th, 17,” the way he says it makes your raise a brow. Sensing your curiosity, James answers your silent question, “is the day Moony, Pads and I became official,” he giggles adorably to himself as you smile somewhat sadly — another reminder that you should stay away. You don’t say anything to prompt him further and, instead, type in the code before looking through his contacts. It takes you a moment but you’re eventually pressing call and waiting patiently for Remus to pick up.

“…James?” Remus’ familiar, kind voice speaks tiredly through the phone and you don’t know whether to breath a sigh of relief or worry, “Hello?”

It takes you a moment but you finally will yourself to speak, “Hey, um, Remus?” 

“…Dove?” he’s in complete disbelief and it’s evident in his voice, “Is that really you?”

“uh…yeah,” you chirp sheepishly and Remus is all forms of elated but his excitement dwindles quickly when he realises how you’re able to call him. 

“Why do you have James’ phone?” you were right to call him, knowing that he was preceptive, reasonable and easy to talk to even with the tension in the air. Patiently, you explain the situation, never taking your fingers away from James’ hair as he practically purrs into your form, adoring the physical contact and muttering to himself happily. It’s especially loveable like this, considering that it’s him being dopey and giggly and not anyone else.

“Oh…” Remus sighs, clearly disappointed, “I’m so sorry, darling, I’ll get him right away,” 

“It’s no trouble, Rem,” it was hard not to cringe when the familiar nickname easily rolls off your tongue. As if nothing happened — oh how you wish for such a reality!

“Just tell me where you are and I’ll be right over,” you don’t know if you’re just imagining it but there’s a considerable shift in his voice, he sounds much softer after hearing his nickname easily fall from your lips. 

“We’re at the Boar and Elephant pub on Chapel Road,” 

“Alright, I’ll be there soon,” with a click, he was gone and you were left to keep James satisfied until he got there. It wasn’t an overly tough job; James seemed perfectly content nuzzling into your stomach with his arms hugging you in place as your fingers massage his scalp and gently groom his hair. He’s like a puppy, eager to receive affectionate cuddles and pets. If he had a tail, he’d be wagging it like crazy and you giggle to yourself at the mental image it conjures up. 

“I missed that…” James mutters, maybe to himself but it wasn’t clear.

“I’m sorry?”

“I miss the sound of you giggling,” you don’t know what to say but he continues, going off on a tangent, “it’s so pretty, you’re so pretty. It’s like the sound of a cute little bell ringing…so pretty— pretty pretty pretty!” you can’t lie to yourself, he’s absolutely precious, “I miss you so much angel, why did you go away? I don’t want you away, I want you with me, and with Remus and with Sirius too…” he murmurs something into your stomach that you weren’t able to pick up but don’t press him further on the matter, fearing that your heart might just about burst if you do. You can’t afford to hope for such a fantasy with them when it could never become a reality. 

It just wasn’t possible…

“Not fair!”James whines, making grabby hands at you as Remus, with the force of a gentle giant, manoeuvres him into the back seat of a red Jaguar XJR. Dealing with a defiant baby was a struggle so dealing with a giant, beefy baby like James Potter was like trying to control a hurricane. But Remus had a magic touch and arguably had more of a silver tongue than Sirius did so he made it look like a walk in the park. It was astounding, “I wanna be with my angel!” James sobs as Remus closes the door on him, putting a stop to James’ needy cries. 

“She’s not yours, she’s no one’s,” was Remus’ response even though he had already closed the door, James unable to hear him and the hint of dismay coherent in his tired voice, “thank you for looking after him, Dove, you’re always too kind,”

“N-no, don’t worry about it,” he smiles down at you, silence filling up the space between your two lonely figures under the amber lamplight. He doesn’t seem to mind the hush in conversation but knowing that his eyes were fixed on you was unnerving, “so! Is that your car?” you ask, desperate for a change in conversation; your restless fiddling making your intentions obvious but Remus keeps to himself. 

“No, no, it’s not mine,” he answers with a short chuckle, “this is James’ car,”

“Oh…” you hum to yourself thoughtfully, eyes carefully examining the body and model of the car, “I see,” it looks like a car James would have, you think to yourself. There was more silence until Remus finally brings himself to commence your farewells. 

“Well I suppose I should head off, I don’t want to take up too much of your time,” your heart stutters, almost to a stop, at his words, even more so when you see him hesitate upon leaning down. A victim to your own habits, you find yourself closing your eyes and awaiting his gentle kiss goodbye against your temple.

…But it never comes.

“Goodbye then,” he calls over his shoulder, and rounds the car to get to the driver’s seat. 

“—Do you smoke?” you suddenly ask, in some part desperate to extend your interaction with each other and other parts curious of the lingering cigarette smoke you smell on his clothes, masking his usually comforting fragrance. It’s strong enough that you were able to catch it from your formal amount of distance with each other and it struck you as odd. You had never seen him smoke before. 

Remus laughs a brief and strained sound as he looks at you from over the hood of the car, did he always have such deep eye-bags? “Not usually,” he sends you a sheepish smile once you’re finally able to meet his eyes, “but I’ve recently taken to it again,“ he sees worry and grief fill your eyes and hurries to correct himself, ”—But don’t worry, Dove,” his features are gentle and kind, warm and… forgiving, “I’m okay,” 

The world slows as you watch him bend his head to sit in the drivers seat. It’s been too long. For you, at least. This can’t continue. It scares you to think about where this may go if you leave it to late. It’s only been three weeks! If this is the result…you dread to think about what would happen if things went on for longer than that. James is drinking himself to death. Remus is smoking cigarettes. What about Sirius? Your stomach twists uncomfortably, painfully, your heart too. 

“No! You’re not!” you shout, tears of anger welling up in your eyes as Remus stops and looks over at you once again, his breath hitching when he sees your eyes glistening with tears, “you’re not okay…” 

“Dove—”

“I’m coming by tomorrow,” you announce, “at lunch,” this was a commitment you’re making, a commitment to him, to them. Even if you’re heartbroken, that doesn’t give you the right to be a bad friend. You brave a watery smile, “I’ll make your favourites…so you better be there!”

→ NEXT : 06 | SELFISH DESIRES

A/N : i’m so sooo sorry for my depiction of the scottish accent, i really tried my best, please don’t hate me! if you have any ideas of how i could make it better, please say so, i’d really appreciate it. Also, i know that this isn’t completely fluff but we’re getting there, you’ll have to wait and see in the next chapter! 

NAVI. | HEROES IN TATTOOS MASTERLIST

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @ashreblogsficshere @cassandra-nerezza-black @stray-bi-kids @ttkttt @notasadgirlipromise @desikudisworld @volturissideslut @arilxup88

@ghostgardn @mess-is-my-aesthetic @zesnuts @enamoredwithbella

@susyelectra @fangirlninja67 @pagesfalling @thepunisherfrankcastle @axeofwars @imarimon @in-love-with-4-marauders @chicken-taco-burrito @valencia-rou @feast0nmeee @lestat-whore @hvmxjjk @twilightlover2007 @diaryofabiwoman @woohoney @celestialfantasiess @willbedecided @lovelyygirl8 @iiirhiane-g @mangodamochiii @queerqueenlynn @l3xiluve @brain-has-left @bunbunbl0gs @kneelforloki @citrusiove @virtualbuni @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer @that1nerd-20 @wolfstar4everbitches @skepvids @dearmy-diary @littledollfacebaby @mylifeisnothing @em16cor @krazyk99 @imdoingbetternow @realalpacorn @remussbitch @swiftieeras1989 @lonely-nerd-sodaholic @canthavetoomuchchaos @rckstrbee @b-i-h-i @ennycutie @kneelforloki @theteaobsessedbug @padfoot1313 @d1gital-data @venezsuwayla @melllinaa

[recoord]

Edendale Strategies is a consulting firm, focused on communications counsel and crisis management.

Il se murmure d'ailleurs qu'Edendale Strategies aurait aussi employé des bots pour noyer les recherches "Neil Gaiman" sur les réseaux sociaux avec des posts élogieux (ou même basiques) sur ses oeuvres et ses adaptations.

Gaiman's tweets erased

Neil Gaiman était connu comme un utilisateur proactif des réseaux sociaux, et s'était régulièrement exprimé contre les violences (sexuelles ou non) faites aux femmes, notamment via un tweet devenu tristement célèbre au sortir des premières révélations, et qui depuis a d'ailleurs été supprimé (la seconde image étant une capture issue d'une recherche effectuée au jour de la rédaction de cette chronique).

Très bon article en français qui explique en détail l'affaire Gaiman.

Merci à l'amie @jainasherself pour le lien

[itertarot]

Quick Tarot Reading | Career

Which Career is the right for you?

Pick a color

One/Black:

My dear pile 1, the ideal profession for you involves teamwork, long-term goals, hierarchy, tradition, creativity, hands-on work, effort, leadership, and rewards for your dedication. You would excel in corporate roles that require planning, meetings, teamwork, and opportunities for career advancement.

- Manager

- Analyst

- Marketing Specialist/Manager

- Director

- Consultant

- Coordinator

Two/Red:

My dear pile 2, the ideal professions for you fall into two distinct groups. The first group involves a strong need to handle conflicts and bring healing. In this case, the ideal professions are:

- Psychiatrist

- Psychologist

- Therapist

- Any profession focused on bringing peace of mind and emotional well-being to those in need.

The second group is highly creative, with extensive talent in the fields of performance and creation. Here, the ideal professions are:

- Theater (actor, director, writer, etc.)

- Cinema (filmmaker, writer, actor, etc.)

Three/Yellow:

You were born to be self-employed, my dear pile 3. The ideal profession for you is one where you are your own boss. You thrive on challenges and need ample space to showcase and exercise your natural creativity. As a born leader, you are destined to carve your own path.

The perfect fit for you is:

- Entrepreneur

Whether it’s starting your own business, launching innovative projects, or leading ventures, entrepreneurship allows you to harness your leadership skills, creativity, and independence to achieve greatness.

Four/Green:

You have a unique gift for bringing new life into what seems lost and destined for failure. You take what is no longer working and transform it into something solid and beautiful. Your ideal profession will bring you great fortune because you bring abundance to everything you touch.

- Restructuring/Restoration Specialist

- Mentor

- Working with NGOs or creating content (like those popupar channels) that earn significant income by helping those in need.

- Entrepreneur who revives failing businesses or properties (e.g., buying bankrupt companies or rundown houses, restoring them, and selling them for profit, like Windy City Rehab Program).

Five/Pink:

My dear pile 5, you are the pile of influencers and trendsetters! Some of you will shine brightly in the world of communication, especially through video content creation. Others will thrive in the beauty industry, whether by working in or owning your own beauty clinic. Additionally, some of you will excel in the fashion world, working with clothing and dictating trends. A few of you may even find yourselves collaborating with luxury brands and luxury bags.

- Content Creator/Influencer

- Beauty Specialist (esthetician, makeup artist, or owning a beauty clinic)

- Fashion Professional (stylist, designer, or trend forecaster)

- Luxury Brand Collaborator (working with or representing high-end brands)

[reiderwriter]

Unhappy Holidays

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're unlucky enough to run into Spencer Reid at holiday celebrations four years in a row. In the New Year, you're resolving to rid him from your mind forever, but you never were one to stick to resolutions 👻🦃🎄🎆

Warnings: SMUT 18+ minors dni, enemies to lovers, low-key work rivals, semi-public sex, car sex, hate sex, fingering, thigh riding, creampie, unprotected sex (no condoms but contraceptive mentioned), slight spoilers for s4 of Criminal Minds (but not really).

Prompt Request: #50"You're so fucking obsessed with me.” #82"Really? Because your pussy is saying something different, sweetheart.” #93"Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

A/N: This is my first submission for @imagining-in-the-margins November/December Office Party writing challenge! I'm sorry I've been so busy recently, but the holiday season really does take a lot of effort to get through at work lmao. Hopefully, I'll be able to post more over my vacation! For now, enjoy some very unserious smut~♡ (as if I write any other kind).

Here's a link to my masterlist, where you can find all my work!~☆

Working with the FBI was no walk in the park, which, from your desk at the opposite corner of the bullpen, Spencer Reid sure made it look like.

Working on adjacent teams for the last three years had become gradually infuriating. You were forever in the man's orbit, stuck dealing with the other women on your team sat giggling about him and his many stupid haircuts, and wondering just how far you'd fallen to have to stare at his stupid face 5 days a week.

If you were unlucky. His team did happen to be out on cases a lot more, whereas yours handled correspondence and consulting cases, a cushy and safe job.

It annoyed you to no end that you had multiple field-based qualifications, extensive fire arms training and were top of your class at the academy only to be relegated yo desk duty whilst boy wonder with his doctorates was allowed to trip over his own feet catching actual killers.

Other people wondered where your dislike of the man sprang from, and you could only let out a disgruntled squeak and tell them your horror stories.

A few months into your job, your been fresh faced and bushy tailed or however that saying goes, and overly eager to take any assignment that came your way. Even if the assignment was baby-sitting an injured Doctor Spencer Reid. He'd been shot whilst out on a case whilst trying to talk down an unsub, and you'd jumped at the chance to get to know him.

He was an office legend, of course, though those days it was more for his characteristic lack of social graces rather than the beauty he'd grown into. You'd been so eager to get to pick his brains, find out how he'd managed to score the position on the BAU at such an early age.

Reality had hit you square in the face when he'd spent a week ignoring you, making you run around like a headless chicken searching for hard copies of documents the FBI had digitised a millennia ago, and hadn't so much as spared you a glance.

The straw that broke the camel's back came as you were running back to him triumphant with a document he'd requested eight hours before and had let yourself into Penelope Garcia’s office quietly, only to hear him bad mouthing you.

“She makes me uncomfortable. I've had her out searching for useless files all day because I don't know what to do with her.”

“She's trying to help, Spencer, it's her job right now, cut her some slack.”

“Her job is currently getting in the way of mine. I even tried writing my own doctor's note so I could get rid of her, but Hotch wouldn't allow it.”

You'd dropped the file loudly on the table, watched the two spin around with horrified looks and turned silently and left the room.

He hadn't once tried to find you after that, and you let your apprenticeship under Doctor Reid quietly fizzle out as you got back to your regular work.

Your resentment still burned though.

Each time you'd been caught in the same elevator with him, you'd ignored him to an almost insane degree, enjoying the way he squirmed and tried to make small talk.

You'd been in contact with JJ and his Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner as well, through cases you'd recommended, but always maintained your cold shoulder.

The one place you could not ignore him, however, was a Penelope Garcia party.

After you'd slammed the file down on her desk, Penelope had guiltily sent you a gift basket filled with sweet treats and books, and had hounded you for a week to make sure your feelings weren't too damaged by her friend's stupidity.

You actually liked her, and found at least one silver lining to the storm that was Spencer Reid ripping through your life.

In the three years since the “incident,” you'd found yourself at three parties where Penelope in all of her heartwarming ways had tried her best to force a reconciliation between the two of you, to disastrous results.

The first was a Halloween party, and you'd been incredibly proud of your Princess Laia costume when you'd arrived. Only until you'd gone to the kitchen to top up your drink to hear Spencer Reid boring some guest or the other about how Star Trek was more advanced, and had a richer plot line.

Penelope had stepped into the kitchen just as he'd caught a glimpse of your (rather skimpy) outfit - yes, you'd chosen swimsuit Laia, yes, you were going to own it - and had immediately jumped into introductions, as if you weren't already intimately acquainted.

“Spencer! This is Y/N! She loves Halloween, too, she makes all of her costumes. You guys should talk.” She'd led the other guest away and left you there with Spencer as you'd awkwardly looked upon his own costume.

“Are you the Tenth Doctor?” You asked begrudgingly, noting his pin-striped suit and the shorter hairstyle he'd chosen.

“Are you a fan? I prefer the original show run more than the current stuff, but David Tennant has really been doing a wonderful-”

“I'm sorry, let me stop you there. I don't watch Doctor Who. I guess I prefer something with a… How should I say, richer plot?”

He'd snapped his mouth shut and didn't have chance to open it again before you turned dramatically and walked away from him.

The second party you'd been cornered into was just over a year later.

Having been stuck in the office over Halloween, Penelope was determined to get in one last celebration before Christmas steam-rolled every other holiday, and thus you'd been invited to her single-people-only-friendsgiving-potluck, and you'd found yourself having to navigate knocking on her door with a casserole dish in your hands.

Luckily a large hand had appeared from behind you and knocked on the door for you. Unfortunately, the sudden shock from the silent appearance of a man right behind you startled you so much that the dish fell straight from your hands anyway.

Penelope opened her door upon hearing the crash and you whirled on your would-be attacker.

It was Spencer again, eyes round in shock, hand still curled into a fist.

You took a calming breath as you gathered yourself, trying not to bite his head off. You wanted to scream and shout and rip his head out but you didn't, instead letting the fury drip into your voice as you finally opened your eyes again.

“That dish took me four fucking hours to make.” You huffed in anger once more as Penelope guided you into the apartment and poured you a glass of wine before you moved back to the entry hall to clean it up again.

Needless to say he didn't care to converse with you after that.

A few small parties in between had been blissfully Spencer-less and you'd lulled yourself into a false sense of security. That's when you accepted the Christmas party invitation.

As one of the unlucky few members of the FBI who had to stay out over christmas in case of some emergency or the other, you'd been grounded in Virginia, unable to travel home for the holidays. So Penelope Garcia's singles-only-Christmas-fun-time-Party was your last ditch effort to spend the holidays actually resting and eating good food.

Learning from last time, Penelope reassured you that there was no potluck, that she had prepared all the food herself, and all you'd need were a bottle of wine and a willingness to party.

You'd taken those recommendations as law and had immediately let yourself into a glass of mulled wine as you arrived, and - noticing that the party was Reid-free - had allowed it to raise your Christmas spirits slightly more than you usually would.

By hour two of the event, you were full of yuletide joy and swaying freely along to the tune of Silent Night.

Spencer’s late entrance really would have gone unnoticed by you had you not bumped face first into his chest as you spun yourself around in your dance, his hands quickly falling to your hips to steady you.

The few moments it took you to gather yourself were about as long as you needed to realised that he'd caught you in his arms underneath the mistletoe. And with your mind fogged by mulled-whatever-it-was-Penelope-mixed-into-that-punch, the part of your brain that objected to the very existence of Spencer Reid went silent, and the incredibly tiny and somewhat damaged part of your brain that instead saw him as attractive started shouting loud instructions.

Before your common sense could return, you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss the very warm, very close man holding you upright.

“Mistletoe,” you muttered as you clawed his arms off of you and took yourself straight to Penelope's bathroom to throw up.

So yes, your acquaintance with Spencer Reid had never been good, and you were perfectly fine with resenting him from afar, privately.

With three years of bad experiences under your belt, you weren't excited at completing your yearly tradition of horrendous interaction. Which is perhaps why you immediately and loudly protested Penelope’s New Years Eve party invitation.

“Y/N, it's a party. What's the worst that can happen?” She pleaded as she followed you down the corridors of the office building.

“I could see Spencer Reid. I could be forced to converse with Spencer Reid. I could get absolutely wasted and kiss Spencer Reid. There, three options, please accept my resignation from partying.”

“Y/N we both know you don't drink anymore, so at least one of those is unlikely to happen. And Spencer might not even come, he has tickets for an indie theatre from 6pm onwards, they're playing some Russian movie from the 60s that's like 4 hours long or something. So u retire yourself and tell me you'll come?” She had to take three or four steps for each of your own, not that you were so different in height but because you were practically marching in order to avoid the topic.

But you finally stopped and let out a sigh as you turned back to Penelope who stopped just before she ran into you.

“You're sure he won't be there?”

“I'm sure he RSVP’d no.”

“Fine. But I'm not drinking and I will still be expecting the Penelope Garcia virgin punch experience.”

“Bring the party poppers and you have a deal.”

“Done.”

–X–

Over the week since you'd accepted the invitation, you'd made peace with it. For the most part, you did love a Penelope Garcia production. There was something wonderful about your friend and her ability to brighten anyone's mood, an ability that was only heightened at holidays. She was like a glittered goddess gaining power when worshippers used her altar, except the altar was her house and the worship was a range of hallmark-induced holidays.

You arrived at the party at 10pm, and though that was the start time you'd been given, you weren't surprised to see a full house of Penelope’s team mates already in attendance. Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss sat spread across the sofa in the living room area, and you noticed a few techie friends also grabbing drinks and chatting.

“Y/N, I'm so glad you're here! You remember everyone on the team, right?” She pulled you into a hug and then sat you down in the middle of the group, waiting for you to mingle and become comfortable before she ran off to more hostess duties.

“Of course, nice to see you guys.” You grabbed your promised punch and sat back comfortably, striking up a conversation with Emily about how bleak the dating scene had been recently.

“It seems like all the men around me are jackasses,” Emily muttered and you giggled along.

“I'm wounded,” Morgan shot back, a hand pressed to his chest in faux pain.

“Good. You're like a lion out there in the clubs stalking gazelles, it's like watching a nature documentary when you're out there.”

You almost snorted your entire drink up your nose as Emily finished, needing to compose yourself for a second.

“I guess the men on our team aren't great with romance,” JJ laughed and took a swing. “Hotch and Rossi have four divorces between them, and Derek here is a lost cause.”

“Our only hope is young Spencer. May he grow into a respectful young gentleman and break out curse,” Emily toasted.

“Oh that ship has sailed,” your laugh this time was bitter, your mood immediately growing sour with even the smallest mention of Spencer Reid.

“Ah, Penelope mentioned you had a problem with our boy wonder. Care to share?”

You opened your mouth to give your standard non-answer and move the conversation along, but you were interrupted.

“Yes, Y/N, care to share? I am slightly curious about that as well.” You turned around and there he was, and your stomach turned in disgust.

Just one time, just one party. You'd been having fun, and here he was to ruin it.

“What are you doing here?” you gaped up at him, unsurprised to see him still decked out in sweater vest and slacks even in his down time.

“I was invited.”

“You declined, Penelope said you had movie tickets.”

“Ticket, singular. And it was cancelled so here I am. What's your problem with me, Y/N?” His jaw clenched and he grabbed the back of your chair and leaned down. It was supposed to be intimidating, but you rolled your eyes. When he looked that attractive, veins in his arms popping out of the sleeves he'd pulled up, you couldn't see him as intimidating. His arms were distracting yes, but God that was nothing compared to his thighs. His pants were tight, and you thanked whatever Clueless tailor had sewn them, because you now allowed yourself a momentary lapse to enjoy the appearance of his lower body.

You tried to shake the thought of his attractiveness from your mind, reminding yourself where you were and in what company.

“I don't think I need to answer that. I think I'll enjoy holding it over your head instead,” you said, standing up and beginning to gather your things.

“Wait, Y/N, where are you going? New Year isn't for another 30 minutes.” Penelope scrambled over and grabbed your hand, pleading with you to stay.

“I'm sorry Pen, but there's just this very annoying bug buzzing around me, and I think I need to get away from it.” You said your goodbyes and excused yourself from the party, happy to have walked away relatively undamaged.

Fate had other plans, and as you stepped out of the apartment building ready to walk yourself home, a hand caught yours from behind as a voice chased you.

“Y/N, wait. I'll go. You go back inside.”

“And return with my tail tucked between my legs after making a grand exit? I'll pass, thanks boy genius.” You shook yourself from his grasp and made to walk away again, but he quickly matched your pace and stepped into your path, cutting you off.

“I can't let you walk home. It's like 40° out here, and your coat is more style than substance.”

“Get into a car with a stranger? I'm sure you of all people know how stupid that sounds.” You stuck a finger out and poked his chest, but he grabbed your hand and held it in place as he spat out his next words.

“I'm not a stranger, I'm the man you're obsessed with, Y/N. Big difference.” You laughed, mostly in shock at his indignance, but he stared at your face as serious as could be.

“Me? Obsessed with you? I'm not the one who followed a woman they're barely acquainted with out of a party filled with all of my friends. Sounds like you're projecting, Spencer.”

“Am I?” He questioned, stepping closer and grabbing your hip as he continued his questioning. “I wasn't the one who was sat there talking about me with all of my colleagues.”

“Well, I wasn't the one who turned up to a party I'd declined an invitation to.”

He was imperceptibly close now, hand gripping your hip so tight you wondered if it'd leave you with a mark.

“I certainly was not the one who initiated a kiss last year, Y/N. You need to face the facts, you're so fucking obsessed with me.” If his hands had you feeling dizzy, his words were completely knocking the sense out of you. Suddenly you returned to the person you'd been under that Mistletoe, and everything from his closeness to the rough edge to his voice begged you to do it once again.

“Go fuck yourself,” was about all the words you could manage as he finally let his lips fall down and crush into your own.

You should've pushed him away, but instead your traitorous body wanted to prove his point, opening up for him faster than you'd opened up to anyone else before.

His tongue flicked against your lips and you gladly let him explore your mouth, opening up to tangle your tongue with his.

He tasted sweet, like the punch Penelope had handed you earlier, only now you wondered if someone had accidentally laced it with how free you were being with your affections.

He resurfaced for air, but you didn't care if there was nothing in your lungs at all if it meant that his lips would engage your own in battle once again.

“Look how much you want me,” he smirked. “Look how needy you are after a single kiss, chasing my lips like that.”

“You and your big fucking mouth. I wish you'd shut up once in a while.”

“I'll make it my new year’s resolution.” His lips joined your own again, and you clashed hard, exploring as much as you could muster as he pulled you in the direction of his car.

“I'm not driving… home… with you,” you growled between kisses, trying not to put your teeth to his neck and bite down hard. You're not sure if that impulse was a murderous one or a kinky one.

“I'm not putting you in the front seat, Y/N, I'm putting you in the back. You should be familiar with the idea.”

Heat sparked between your legs, and you allowed yourself to be manhandled into the beat-up trash heap of a car.

He'd not taken his hands off you as he got you in, pushing himself in first and then pulling you by the hand that you'd unconsciously gripped hard. You immediately straddled his hips, skirt naturally riding up in the process. He noticed and looked curiously down at you, growling as you pressed your lips against his neck and grabbed you instead by the hair gathered in a ponytail at the back of your head.

“See, you're obsessed with me. Just admit it.” Without breaking eye contact, he dug his fingers into the material of your tights and pulled in opposite directions, leaving your underwear exposed to his wandering eyes.

“I'm not obsessed with you,” your voice needed conviction to land, but it came out as a lusty whisper, especially as he slipped his fingers inside your underwear and finally touched your aching cunt.

“Really? Because your pussy is saying something else, Princess.” He found your clit faster than you'd ever expected, rubbing slow circles into your skin as you began rocking your hips back and forth.

It was becoming hard to disagree with him, with each flick of wrist growing the heat between your legs. You attacked his neck again, hands practically ripping at his top buttons so you could muffle the sounds of your arousal against his neck, collarbone, chest, any stretch of that pale skin available to you.

He forced your hips to a stop with one hand as he slipped a single digit inside of your hole, gathering your arousal as he set a steady pace, thumb keeping your bundle of nerves occupied.

“Listen, Y/N, can you hear that?”

“I can't h-hear anything.” You had to grind your teeth together to get the words out with minimal interruptions of moans bursting from the pit of your stomach.

He leaned in close to your ear, nuzzling your neck and placing chaste kisses up towards your ear, finally pulling away just enough to whisper a single word in your ear.

“Liar.”

His hand stilled and pulled off you quickly and your eyes broke open, hands unconsciously fitting into his shirt as if you were worried he was going to leave you there like this, on the edge of pleasure but still so far away.

“Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

“Jackass. You've only been here for like 20 minutes.”

“You can climb right out of this car if you want to, Y/N.” He tried to keep his tone light, but the death grip he had on your thighs, the very obvious tent pitched in his pants and the way his eyes couldn't go five seconds without undressing you told you you had more power in this interaction than he wanted to give you.

There was no way either of you were letting the other go unused tonight.

You relaxed your grip on his shirt and shifted your weight to one of his thighs. Lithe he may be, but lowering yourself down there was an unexpected strength there. He watched on curiously as you rocked experimentally against him. Back and forth you rocked, trying desperately to keep up his momentum or tempt him to help you out again.

It was time to let your voice back out, and you did, moaning without a care as you hummed his leg like a bitch in heat.

“You're enjoying this lot, huh, Y/N,” he muttered, and you watched as his hand worked his pants zip open, removing one of the barriers in the way between the two of you, as he began palming himself.

“What's that saying? Anything you can do, I can do better?” He growled at that response but didn't stop you. Instead he bought a hand down on your ass as you moved, so hard you jolted at the sudden pain. Your eyes shot open as your hips stilled, but you felt warmth grow between your legs.

“Yes, you definitely enjoyed that. Should I do that again, or do you think we should hurry this up and go back up for the countdown?”

You hesitated only a second before you pushed his hand off his lap, shifting your hips further towards his knees before letting your hand reach for where his had just been.

You didn't let yourself think about how big he was as you pulled his cock free, didn't let yourself wonder how he measured up against anyone you'd been with before. You didn't let yourself waste time thinking about how various office rumours were true, and definitely not a second was wasted feeling jealous about how those rumours were spread in the first place.

Instead you simply slammed your lips back against his, mouth opening to let your tongue engage his as you lifted your hips with his help and lowered yourself down on him.

You didn't have to rid yourself of sinful thoughts after that as he purged every single brain cell from your head, filling you so contently that there was simply no space for anything but him.

You locked up on top of him, clawing at his shoulders as you whimpered at the stretched, falling so he was balls deep inside you. You wanted to move, to use him for your pleasure, but your walls tightened every time you even thought about it as he stroked your hair through it all.

It had been some time since you'd last had a sexual partner, and you needed the few minutes to overcome the first uncomfortable bliss of it all.

“That good?” he whispered, but the harsh tone of earlier was gone, replaced only by unsure humour to break the silence.

“Been a while.” He nodded, kissing you again to distraction as he shifted your positions.

Cradling your neck and securing your legs comfortably around him, he lowered you against the backseat, pulling out slightly as you adjusted to the new angle.

“Better?” You nodded quickly, because it was. There was no more pressure on your legs, and despite the cramped space in the car, you had enough space to lie almost flat.

“Yes… thank you.” Just as his cutting tone had escaped him, you also heard your own tone softening, the sigh of contentment slipping past your lips almost sweet. Almost.

“Are you going to fuck me now, or what?”

He let out a shocked laugh, but lent down to shut you up with a kiss nonetheless. Bracing himself against the car door, his hips softly rocked into you, pace increasing until you were back to the edge of cumming, nails pressed hard into his skin until you were sure he was going to complain.

He didn't though, but kept up his thrusts, until your vision suddenly darkened and stars exploded in them, rolled back in your head as they were.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, where should I…?” He panicked, but you wrapped your legs around him, grabbing him by the tie and pulling him down to swallow his moan as he shot his load inside of you.

“Birth control.” You whispered when you finally let him go, gasping for air. “Contraceptive pill. No need to get the car dirty.”

He collapsed on top of you then, forehead resting against your own as you both caught your breaths.

The moment was silent, and you found the synchronicity of your breaths almost calming. Eventually you had to break apart, and he helped you up to a sitting position, but didn't break eye contact as fell back into his lap.

His hands stroked your back, dipping to your ass at times, but he didn't talk. Neither of you did.

The eye contact between the two of you was possibly the most pleasant conversation you'd ever had.

“I'm sorry.” He blurted, just as fireworks erupted into the night sky. Your heart shook, and you weren't sure of it was the shock of the sound, or the way the rainbow of lights illuminated his sincere expression.

“You don't have to apologise for cumming in me, Spencer.”

“Not that. Before. The casserole and the mistletoe, and the Halloween costume.”

“Wow. Um, okay. Apology accepted, I guess, though I'm not entirely sure why you're apologising now.”

He took a deep breath just as another set of fireworks went up.

“I pulled you under the mistletoe. It was Penelope’s idea, she knew how stupid I was being around you and sent me over. I saw it and took the chance.”

“Fuck. Why?”

“Because I was pretty useless at being chivalrous the year before.”

You climbed off his lap in a scramble and sat on the seat beside him, mind racing, trying to figure out where the hell he was going with this.

He turned to you, trying to keep your attention as he stumbled over the words.

“You couldn't knock on the door, so I wanted to help you, but I didn't think I'd scare you so much you'd drop it.”

“You didn't scare me it was a momentary lapse in my observational skills.”

“You shrieked,” a smile threatened to pull his lips up, they twitched as you flushed red.

“And Halloween?” You looked at him again now, trying to figure out what the hell was going on between the two of you.

“You refused to look at me for a year after we stopped working together,” he shrugged quickly running a hand through his hair and expelling a breath. “I don’t really know how to talk to women.”

“You just know how to piss them off?”

“Morgan says it comes naturally.”

“Yeah, well, Morgan is very wise.”

A brief silence stretched between you, or as silent as a night full of cracks, pops, whizzes and bangs could be.

“I don't get it. You tried your best to get rid of me when I was there to help you. I wanted to impress you, and you kept sending me on meaningless errands, and now you're saying what? You wanted my attention?” There was a quiet anger to your voice, but you were surprised to find it diminished and tired.

“I wanted you gone because you were distracting me, Y/N, not because I hated you.”

“Well, what's the difference, Doctor Reid? Please indulge me.” You huffed a little but kept your eyes on him, trying not to seem too desperate for his answer.

“I have an IQ of 187. Emily says when I'm around a pretty girl it's more like 52,” he fidgeted with his pants, forcing the words out.

“You're a pretty girl. We had a case to work and all I could think about was how to get you to like me. Hotch chewed me out like three separate times for being absent minded.”

He was looking anywhere but you, trying his best not to appear like a fool but you were locked onto him.

“Oh my god you're an idiot.”

“When you're around, yes.”

“And that means I'm equally stupid.”

“No, you just jump to conclusions and hold grudges. There wasn't anything really that stupid about your actions, though it could be suggested that not thoroughly thinking through the wording of the conversation you overheard-”

You cut him off with a kiss, pulling him down again mlby his tie.

“Oh my god, shut up,” you whispered as you broke apart.

“Does that mean we can do this again? Because I'd like to do this again?”

“Stop talking, start kissing jackass.”

He finally didn't argue with that, pulling you back into him as you sat under the stars in his car welcoming the new year.

[lu-is-not-ok]

So the new Vergillius announcer has personaized, specialized quote for each specific Sinner, and it's a fascinating mixture of praise and burns. In order, (so Yi Sang first and Gregor last):

"Impressive, Sinner #1. You seem to have a surprisingly high aptitude for Identity and E.G.O usage." "Ms. Faust… You knew that enemy part would eventually cause trouble, didn't you?"

"… What did Sinner #3 do this time? Haah…"

"Hm, your battle sense is just as excellent, even as a Sinner. Now, is there something you can do about your incomprehensible speech quirk, Sinner #4?"

"Excellent, Sinner #5. I hear that your quick actions have prevented many a disaster."

"… Don't think you can smooth over your terribly ineffective attack with an innocent smile, Sinner #6."

"Sinner #7. I thought you'd finally learned how to use that head of yours… It has been a while since our last consultation, hasn't it?"

"So I hear that you're the class president now, Sinner #8? Then it's time you took to the helm."

"I do appreciate how easy you are to please, Sinner #9. You may expect sweets should you perform well in this battle, of course."

"You've got blood on you again, #11. … Hm, I suppose you have indeed grown somewhat as of late. I thought you'd be bawling on your knees by now."

"What's this, miss lieutenant? How come you've let yourself be sliced to pieces like this? You're going to be the biggest burden to your Executive Manager dearest."

"This is no time for your defeatist attitude, Sinner #13. Get on your feet and soldier on. Where's your usual disposition, hm?"

I'm don't think this is a uniform scan of how Vergillius views each Sinner, but there are some fascinating nuggets-Rodion straight up getting bribed, a hint of Yi Sang having the best synchronization rates with IDs and EGO, and the possibility of Vergie knowing about Faust's psychic knowledge link deal.

It's, naturally, the Hong Lu one I'm coming to you with-I wonder if it's as innocent as it looks (Hong Lu did an ineffective attack and tried to laugh it off, Vergie Ain't Havin' It), or if Vergie can legitimately see right through Hong Lu's act (or knows his Deal all along).

Anon, you have no idea how perfect your timing is. Since I have recently done an attempt at analysis of all those lines in a random Discord server. So instead of dilly-dallying, I'm just gonna mostly repeat what I said then.

Before I do get to the Sinner-specific lines, I do want to briefly go over my thoughts about Verg's other lines, the ones directed at Dante.

Notably, a large amount of them has a much more gentle, if not downright warm tone to them. There is a level of patience, curiosity, and even sometimes concern that Verg shows towards Dante yet doesn't direct towards the rest of the Sinners.

There is very little to no condescending language directed towards them, which is in stark contrast to the vast majority of Verg's Sinner specific lines.

I wanted to point all of this out as Vergilius is a character who staunchly refuses to connect with people, and in reaction the people around him refuse to connect with him. There's very few people he actively tries to be kinder to, usually people he already knows, with it being most obvious with how he treats Charon.

Thus, the fact that Verg treats Dante with a level of kindness he doesn't extend towards the other Sinners implies a prior emotional connection we have yet to learn the specifics of.

Alright, with that little intro out of the way, here's my interpretation of each of those Sinner-specific lines one by one.

Yi Sang

One of the few positive voicelines, however the compliment Verg gives Yi Sang here can be read as somewhat backhanded due to the usage of "surprisingly", implying Verg doesn't actually hold high expectations towards him.

I also think that Verg specifically complimenting Yi Sang's usage of Identities and E.G.O could be another reflection of his not that high opinion of him. Verg is effectively complimenting not Yi Sang's own strengths, but rather his skill at borrowing power from other sources.

Faust

The only Sinner besides Dante that Verg refers to by name, showing that he holds a level of respect towards her that he doesn't for the rest of the Sinners. Considering the fact we know she's the one who hired him effectively, it might be more so a formality on his part than a reflection of any sort of closeness.

I have a couple of interpretations for what he says here, but in both of them it's clear that Verg feels a sort of exasperation towards Faust, and that he's aware of her downright supernatural levels of knowledge.

One interpretation is that he's expressing frustration, effectively accusing Faust of taking so long to act despite clearly having known ahead of time that the part would become a problem in the future. This is one of the patterns Faust shows, as she has a tendency to simply let bad things happen even when she knows they're about to, only ever doing something when she has no other choice.

The other interpretation is Verg being vexed by Faust's quick actions and efficiency, knowing that she only did so because she had the information that would tell her it had to be done. This is another pattern she exhibits, as she highly values efficiency and following the orders and information she has access to above her own opinions.

Don Quixote

Probably the most straightforward one. Verg's opinion of Don Quixote was so badly affected by how much trouble she's caused that now he's come to expect her to be the source of any potential mishaps.

There's also a notable sort of resignation to this voiceline I feel. It gives the impression that Verg has given up on trying to discipline Don Quixote, feeling like no matter what he does she's just going to keep causing issues regardless.

Ryoshu

The one line where Verg expresses both a positive and negative opinion simultaneously. Verg clearly holds a certain amount of respect towards Ryoshu, acknowledging her battle prowess even when nerfed. However, he also makes sure to undermine the compliment to make it clear he has no fondness towards her by calling out a trait of hers that he finds irritating and perhaps knows she's unlikely to change.

Interestingly enough, I feel like there's something to be said about how surface-level his jab here is. When it comes to the other Sinners he makes jabs at, he tends to target something they're a lot more sensitive about. Here however? Nothing of the sort. I think when Verg calls Ryoshu's speech quirk "incomprehensible", it reflects his opinion on Ryoshu as a whole - he finds her equally incomprehensible, unable to understand her as a person.

Meursault

Probably the only entirely positive voiceline out of the lot, neither backhanded nor condescending. Verg shows appreciation for Meursault's reliability, and might even be subtly throwing shade at the other Sinners by implying they could be the cause of the disasters in question. Not much else to say here lmao.

Hong Lu

I think this line very clearly shows Verg knows Hong Lu is full of shit. Not only does Verg call out the fact that Hong Lu is trying to get away with messing up, he also directly calls out the "innocent smile" as Hong Lu's method of doing so. He can tell Hong Lu's innocence and naivete isn't entirely genuine, but rather that it's a shield he uses to evade criticism and negative attention.

Also this is the only voiceline where Verg directly calls out a Sinner's attack as being dogshit. The others are a lot more vague about what caused Verg's reaction (except for Outis but we'll get to her), but here Verg confirms that the thing he's annoyed by is Hong Lu's offense. Considering my other analyses about Hong Lu caring more about his performance of combat rather than being actually effective at it based on his animations... no yeah, that tracks Perfectly.

Heathcliff

This is. An interesting line. I would probably need a whole separate post to get into it in detail, but to make a long story short it's pretty clear that as of the current point in story Heathcliff is the only Sinner that is actively trying to reach out to Verg and treat him like a person, and Vergilius is very much noticing that and (perhaps subconsciously) beginning to warm up to Heathcliff.

Why do I say all of that? Because I believe this line is a reflection of that relationship. See, both of the things Verg says about Heathcliff here are him noting that he thought Heathcliff was improving. That he was actually smart, that he hadn't needed any discipline in a long time. This line to me feels less like an insult or a jab, and more like an expression of disappointment.

Whether he wanted to or not, Verg was slowly starting to form a sort of bond with Heathcliff, enough to feel disappointed when Heathcliff fucks up and to try and distance himself. Mind you, he's still being an ass and vaguely threatening about it, but it's still something to note.

Ishmael

First of several voicelines where Vergilius is openly condescending towards whoever he's talking about. Calling Ishmael a class president is not only Verg acknowledging Ishmael's tendency to effectively speak for the Sinners as a whole several times, but also putting her down by effectively calling that behavior immature and something a child in school would be doing.

Then he basically goes "can you stop fucking around" by telling her to actually take charge and be responsible for once. Because despite how she presents herself, Ishmael is kinda bad at this whole personal responsibility thing.

Rodya

Similarly to Heathcliff, I think this voiceline is a reflection of Rodya's relationship with Verg as a whole. Again, to summarize, Rodya consistently puts on an overly casual and friendly act when interacting with Vergilius, despite her actual opinion on him being basically in line with the rest of the bus - she doesn't like him one fucking bit.

I think the first part of this line is Verg low-key calling her out for that, calling her "easy to please" in a very facetious way to show how see-through her act is to him. He is fully aware she does not like him but pretends to anyway.

Then there's the second part. I don't think Verg is genuinely trying to bribe Rodya. I interpret what he says here as his attempt at giving her a taste of her own medicine. Rodya regularly acts overly friendly towards him, so for a moment he acts overly familiar as well by offering sweets for a job well done. He's being an asshole and he knows it. The fact that he's effectively making a jab at Rodya's not-so-secret food insecurity only makes it more obvious that he's being an ass for the sake of being an ass.

Sinclair

Maybe the most backhanded lines of all of them if I'm honest. Verg is both acknowledging Sinclair's growth as a person while also putting him down by reminding him of the pathetic state he was at the start. Another Sinner he clearly has low expectations of.

I think this also shows Verg's tendency to underestimate the Sinners, specifically when it comes to their ability to change. I slightly alluded to it in Don Quixote's section, but Verg pretty clearly doesn't expect any of the Sinners to change for the better, and is thus surprised when he sees Sinclair prove him wrong.

Outis

If Sinclair's line is the most backhanded one, then this is the most condescending one with the most obvious animosity. Outis is the only Sinner that Verg calls something other than their number or name, instead giving her a frankly patronizing sounding nickname. He's both reminding her of her supposed role by calling her "lieutenant" while also putting her down by adding that "miss" in front.

Every single thing he says towards her is meant to put her abilities into question and make her seem incompetent. Considering that Outis regularly brags about her abilities and is the only Sinner to show she's not afraid to fight him, it's clear he's trying to take her down a peg. This shit is personal.

Him calling out her partially facetious attachment to Dante is also notable, as protecting them was the excuse Outis used when she first stood up to Verg. It's clear that moment left quite the negative impression on him.

Gregor

Last but not least. I think this line is another example of Verg seeing through a Sinner's facade, just like he did with Hong Lu and Rodya. He's calling out Gregor's go-getter facade by questioning where his "usual disposition" went and comparing it to his genuine attitude, that being the defeatism and unwillingness to participate.

There's also I think an interesting layer to this line, that being how it could be referencing back to Canto 1. Verg is effectively telling Gregor that one failure isn't a good enough reason to give up, perhaps subtly implying that he's already over Gregor's fuck up and would much rather not have to deal with what he might consider self-pitying.

[astrologydray]

Scorpio Mc in the each of the degrees

If you have a Scorpio Midheaven (MC), your career and public image are influenced by Scorpio’s themes of transformation, power, intensity, investigation, and depth. You are likely drawn to roles where you can work behind the scenes, deal with powerful emotions, or engage in deep, transformative processes. Scorpio MC individuals often thrive in careers such as psychology, research, investigation, finance, healing, or crisis management.

• 0° Scorpio (Aries Point) – A powerful public image, likely to achieve prominence through transformational or investigative work, such as psychology, research, or crises management.

• 1° Scorpio – Intense, focused, and determined; may thrive in investigation, forensic science, or any field requiring deep analysis.

• 2° Scorpio – Likely to excel in research, science, or strategic roles that require uncovering hidden truths.

• 3° Scorpio – A natural in psychology, counseling, or crisis management, using your ability to deal with profound emotional situations.

• 4° Scorpio – Strong sense of privacy and control. Could excel in corporate leadership, finance, or law enforcement, where power dynamics are key.

• 5° Scorpio – Creative yet intense; could thrive in fields such as writing, investigative journalism, or roles where uncovering secrets is crucial.

• 6° Scorpio – Strong emotional intelligence; could work in healing professions, psychotherapy, or holistic health.

• 7° Scorpio – Focused on personal transformation through relationships. Likely to work in partnerships, counseling, or mediation, helping others navigate difficult transformations.

• 8° Scorpio – Attracted to careers involving transformation, healing, or working with life/death situations. Could excel in medicine, surgery, or toxicology.

• 9° Scorpio – Deep and insightful, likely to work in research, science, or roles that deal with the hidden or taboo.

• 10° Scorpio – Powerful presence in the workplace. Likely to succeed in leadership, government, or transformational roles.

• 11° Scorpio – Drawn to intense and transformative careers in fields like crisis management, psychological research, or financial analysis.

• 12° Scorpio – Naturally private but magnetic; could excel in research, data analysis, or confidential consulting.

• 13° Scorpio – Strong sense of duty to uncover the truth. Could work in investigation, legal fields, or security.

• 14° Scorpio – Intense and passionate. Likely to succeed in law enforcement, surgery, or any career that involves high stakes or deep emotional work.

• 15° Scorpio – Skilled at understanding power dynamics and human psychology. Likely to thrive in finance, real estate, or therapy.

• 16° Scorpio – Willing to tackle dark or difficult topics. Could excel in criminology, research, or working with addiction or trauma.

• 17° Scorpio – Drawn to healing, counseling, or any career that involves personal growth, particularly in the face of adversity.

• 18° Scorpio – Powerful communicator in hidden or taboo subjects. Likely to succeed in journalism, investigative reporting, or political activism.

• 19° Scorpio – Focused on deep, emotional transformation. Could excel in fields like psychotherapy, life coaching, or end-of-life care.

• 20° Scorpio – A natural in roles requiring emotional depth, such as crisis management, mediation, or psychiatry.

• 21° Scorpio – A transformative figure. Likely to be drawn to careers that change society, such as activism, research, or government roles.

• 22° Scorpio – Interested in dealing with the shadow side of life. Could thrive in criminology, investigative work, or financial sectors dealing with risks.

• 23° Scorpio – Fascinated by mysteries, forensics, or the unseen world. Likely to find success in research, astrology, or spiritual counseling.

• 24° Scorpio – A true transformer. Likely to be drawn to careers that involve depth, healing, or powerful change such as management, finance, or spiritual guidance.

• 25° Scorpio – Powerful and intense; likely to work in corporate leadership, strategy, or financial markets.

• 26° Scorpio – Magnetic and persuasive; could excel in negotiations, law, or roles requiring the ability to persuade and influence.

• 27° Scorpio – Strong focus on transformation; could work in psychology, the occult, or recovery-based careers.

• 28° Scorpio – Intense and strategic; may work in intelligence, politics, or investment management.

• 29° Scorpio (Anaretic Degree) – A fated degree of transformation. Likely to experience profound career changes, or public recognition in roles that involve power, control, or deep psychological insight. This degree may bring sudden or intense changes to your professional life but can ultimately lead to mastery in investigation, crisis management, or healing.

[richardsphere]

the Evilustrhater Kwagatama scene is just fractally bad.

The Evilustrhater Kwagatama scene just... sucks. It breaks down on any level of thought. 1-Only Kwami should be giving out kwagatama. (cause its literally the only bit of agency the little slave-gods have). Mari spends this "giving up her Guardian-authority" scene usurping Tikki's authority. (It doesnt matter if we're meant to "reasonably assume" Tikki gave permision for this. It still should've been Tikki handing it over.) 2-It further unbalances the team dynamics, by putting Rena into a position of at least nominal authority to, at some point in the future, take away Chat's ring, should she decide to do so. Ladybug continues to make decisions that effect the entire team, without consulting any members of her team. (Even Rena wasnt consulted on this decision, and has it foisted on her instead. But then, this might be deliberate if we're getting Ladynoir Conflict/Miraculous Civil War)

3-It erodes Alya's relationship with Trixx. At least on a symbolical level. By giving her a Bug kwagatama, before ever giving her a fox one, thus implying symbolically that her relationship with Tikki is better then her relationship with Trixx. 4-simultaniously it erodes the symbolism of the Kwagatama as trust between Kwami and Hero. Mari needed to be a hero for months living with Tiki side-by-side fighting evil on the daily before Tikki gave her a kwagatama. Adrien only got his in Reunion, thats a season 5 episode. Adrien had to die multiple times, faced multiple apocalyptic threats and prevented World War Three before he got a Kwagatama. (put a pin in that one btw, its going to be relevant later). Alya has only used the Ladybug Miraculous once, and that was seemingly enough. 5-It obviously undermines Fu's sacrifice. Setting up a "just own the magic friendship-necklace and you'll get your memories back" reveal immensely undercuts the weight of Fu's amnesia. To be clear, I was always expecting that they'd find some clever loophole to protect Marinette from said amnesia. But having it be a magic necklace that she's had since Season 2? Saying "the problem was solved before it was even introduced" doesn't so much reduce the threat, as it removes the threat entirely. I was at least expecting her to have to train with the Order or something, finish the training Fu never got to learn how to protect herself in advance, maybe a potion from the Book Fu never deciphered in time? or have someone else on the team figure out how to restore her memories after the fact. (IE: Felix could definitly make a "memory-restoring" senti, Maybe a cameo from Liirii "liberating" her from the chains on her memories.) But saying "Oh, you just needed your Kwami to trust you and you wont ever get Fu-ed" is just... shitty. 6- It casually implies that Fu went through not one, but two World Wars as the Turtle wielder, but never managed to earn Wayz' trust. after all, if he did he'd have a Turtle Kwagatama, and the show would've been much different. --Edit cause i somehow forgot 7- Do we really need a third back-up guardian. We already had the guy from Ephemeral, and Luka went to the order to train for that very same position.