#a problem that will be expanded on in the next post

[victorluvsalice]

-->And then, after Alice was long done with the harvest and Smiler done with all the other chores, Victor FINALLY wrapped up all his tending, meaning – at 11:30 AM in-game – we could go to the damn store! Yay! I sent Alice around to the side to finish up her mural while Victor cleaned up the “out-of-stock” signs, then, once everything was ready, Smiler officially opened the place up!

Which – took a bit, because this lot DOES have lag problems. Like, some really nasty lag problems. I don’t know why, other than maybe it just has too much stuff on it. *sigh* But the store DID open, eventually, and the customers started coming in. Smiler of course took point on the sales floor, chatting with the various NPCs who walked in the door (and admiring their fashion choices -- seriously, look at the bright yellow eye shadow on that one lady) and working their sales magic. Alice concentrated on finishing off her mural, then joined Smiler in interacting with the customers (with some reluctance, as you can see by her face -- she did get along pretty well with Ash from High School Years, though); Victor, meanwhile, focused on making a new flower arrangement (magicking it up to better quality once he was done to make sure he could scent it with bluebells to keep it timeless), then went outside to enjoy some fresh air and a Delicioso hamburger. Nice, easy start to the day, right?

-->Well -- sort of. Because right around the time Victor had his hamburger, things started picking up in the store. At first, it was pretty manageable, with Smiler and Alice running around making sales as more and more customers started coming in and perusing their wares and Victor tried to get in a quick toilet break before doing his part (emphasis on tried, as he insisted on cleaning up his plate first)...

[jingler]

Wizard 101 Dashboard Simulator (set in arc 1)

0 notes

⛈️ fuckfizzles Follow

Hot take but I shouldn't see any life wizards hogging all the health wisps after almost dying in a dungeon for the 50th time. Don't yall have your decks full of nothing but healing spells already 🙄

⚖️ bladesprinter Follow

why is it always the fizzle-addicts being lifephobic

⛈️ fuckfizzles Follow

Why's it always wizards from the weakest schools crying about schoolphobia

⚖️ bladesprinter Follow

mad because you fizzled again arent you

125 notes

🐉 dragon-theseballs Follow

what's this opaque wizard doing running around dragonspyre lmao

🧭 spiralexplorer38 Follow

OP are you......are you not opaque?

🐉 dragon-theseballs Follow

um.....no??? i'm translucent like everyone else

🎇 lenora-bitchcrow Follow

Is someone gonna tell them

🐉 dragon-theseballs Follow

TELL ME WHAT

🐮 mooooooooooshu Follow

How familiar are you with the name Malistaire?

🐉 dragon-theseballs Follow

i think he was a year or two above me in the academy??? what does he have to do with anything????

🐈 marleyboner Follow

im just gonna leave this link for you op: https://spiralpedia.com/malistaire/dragonspyre

🐉 dragon-theseballs Follow

I'M DEAD???????

⛲️ wysting-away Follow

HOW DID YOU NOT KNOW

🔫 undeadstalker Follow

how is a ghost using spiralblr

🐉 dragon-theseballs Follow

i'm translucent, not incorporeal idiot. and sorry it was kinda hard to tell when EVERYONE in my world ghosted at the same time.

✨️ chad-dickbringer Follow

I FINALLY FOUND THIS POST

⏳️ spiralingdownwardsfast Follow

Oh my titan I only ever saw this post in wandcaps

⛰️ goatedonmooshu Follow

need an update from op on how theyre handling being dead

🐉 dragon-theseballs Follow

i still don't get why some ghosts get to be mysteriously hooded by a shroud and im just translucent me.

23.1k notes

🦋 ladyorielfan23 Follow

Honestly DNI if you support the Young Wizard. Since when is murdering banshees okay just because they're hanging out outside?

🌿 bearingclaws Follow

Imagine being so privileged you don't have to worry about being literally killed every time you leave your home because of Malistaire

🦋 ladyorielfan23 Follow

I'm literally from colossus boulevard. And you know what? We made peace with the gobblers instead of just killing them for wanting a place to stay

🧨 themiddleagedwizard Follow

Ohhhhh my titans. You know WHO made peace with the gobblers FOR you? The young wizard. Anti yws don't even know how much they've done for them.

🦋 ladyorielfan23 Follow

Even if that were true, you telling me to shut up and be grateful a crazed child solider is slaughtering hundreds of people when I never asked them to do that is not helping your case lmao

🌿 bearingclaws Follow

It's always wizards from peaceful zones critiquing the young wizard and forgetting that we're literally IN A WAR. I don't even think the young wizard has a choice in it because they are literally a minor. Complain to ambrose about it but don't hate on people who are finally getting to experience some peace after malistaire completely fucked their lives over.

🦋 ladyorielfan23 Follow

Whatever keep relying on a child solider to fix all your problems but don't be surprised if they get addicted to all that killing and become the next malistaire

🧨 themiddleagedwizard Follow

You CANNOT seriously be comparing the young wizard to malistaire i

Expand

5,480 notes

❄️ iceytears Follow

being a goth but not a necromancer is so funny. sorry for the confusion I can't actually raise ghouls from the dead I just know that black eyeliner is hot.

273 notes

🐴 diegosdick-andballs Follow

at this point whoevers going to save the spiral is gonna come from some dumb world named dirt or some shit

🦄 uniquelymyway Follow

The original date of this post is crazy

🐴 diegosdick-andballs Follow

I forgot about this post holy shit?!

🍖 gobblinthatass Follow

20.3k notes

🛡 meetmeatthearena Follow

I know that ambrose isn't a deathphobe but it's very funny how from an outsider's perspective it definitely looks that way. Like welcome to my academy here's all these beautiful buildings and trees for the other schools meanwhile the death school is just like. Hole.

🎩 strongermarleyboner Follow

op casually forgetting the balance school exists

🛡 meetmeatthearena Follow

I don't think ambrose even knows the balance school exists

4,346 notes

👻 krokpenceee Follow

Introducing Krokpenceee Heals

So I noticed how unhappiness can really plague us. Sometimes the spiral throws so many hit spells at us. It prevents us from being happy and free-spirited. I really want to reach out and help people break free of certain negative patterns in their lives, so I’ve created Krokpenceee Heals. I am an extremely intuitive and empathetic individual. I will never judge or disclose any of your problems to anyone. I will help you transcend confusion, and self-limiting beliefs so that you can be the best version of yourself. 

🔥 dragula-fireblade Follow

aren't you the krok whose family owns a mander slave

12.4k notes

🍑 youngwizard-official Follow

malistaire's not gonna know what's coming when i hit him with my massive dong

🎃 darkcavelurker Follow

why is this the only post on the young wizard's spiralblr

🧵 stitchbitchly Follow

Probably too busy doing the gangnum style over the corpses they create

[blackberry-sage-tea]

Like, I hate Veilguard. This won't be a surprise to people who have followed me specifically for my Veilguard critical posts but I recognize I have gained a few followers since then, and those followers specifically followed me for Dorianposting with Veilguard gifs. Please don't take it personally that I hated it.

I didn't like the game mostly for its writing. I won't go into a long spiel because this post is not about that, but what I dislike about the game is mirrored in a lot of longtime DA fans who were disappointed with Veilguard, and it reflects a lot of the problems with the writing that the article touches on.

And I don't think "the DA team was mistreated" contradicts "the DA team wrote a terrible game", but…COME ON.

There's something so unjust about it. That EA and Bioware and the ME team came in at the end of development and said "this needs to be a serious and gripping narrative, fans want a serious and gripping narrative", and yes, they are correct, that's what we (fans like me) wanted and the game didn't have enough of it, but also like. As though the DA team didn't say this from the very start?

The very first version of Dragon Age 4 was going to be a serious and gripping narrative! It was going to have the worldbuilding we wanted, it was going to expand on the things we were interested in, it was probably going to have a million terrible and enraging plot points but it was going to be a Dragon Age game and it was going to have choices and conflict and everything fans of the series wanted. And it was NOT the DA team's fault that it wasn't that. Like maybe the people left behind at the end didn't know how to write a fantasy game but it wasn't their fault that they were the only people left.

Like, they argued over this. They were fired over this. People who had been with Bioware for YEARS resigned over this. The ones who were left were told to make it a multiplayer so they started designing a multiplayer. Then when they were probably half or even most of the way through making the multiplayer they were told to make it a "broad-appeal" singleplayer. Not even "restart development and make a singleplayer" but "take the game you were already making and turn it into a singleplayer". Do you know how insane this production standard is??? If you look at pretty much any other game, you are supposed to know what you are making BEFORE YOU START MAKING IT. It's like being told to paint a portrait, then told after you're done thumbnailing for the portrait to instead make an elaborate pastoral scene, and then told as you are layering paint on the canvas "actually we want a portrait".

And someone comes in and is like "why is this portrait in landscape orientation have you never made a game before in your life".

Like, yeah I get annoyed when I see comments from the DA writers that imply "this character was a two-dimensional caricature on purpose" but it's kind of like. Seeing the Mass Effect lead crowing about how "Mass Effect 5 isn't going to have a tone change like Dragon Age did" gives me the same fury, you know? Like, what do you know? You were the golden child. You got what you wanted when you asked for it.

I liked Mass Effect, but the second the story was over I stopped caring about it. Dragon Age is the thing that's endured. And the comment about the differences in ME team structure compared to Dragon Age? Yeah. I can see that. Dragon Age is a series comprised of multiple viewpoints and narratives. Sometimes this means that the narrative contradicts itself. Sometimes you have characters where you can tell they were handled with love and care by one writer only for the next one to completely change who they are. It is what it is. It's part of what makes the series so compelling and also what makes it so terrible. I'm going to miss it forever. I don't think we're ever getting it back even if they try to make another one because the people who made this series what it is, who understood what it was about, they're gone.

Anyway. I guess I'll just die mad about it.

[nights-at-crystarium]

Okay the number of new followers reaches critical mass, which makes me anxious to show around, what's this place, what I'm doing here. Hi and welcome to the gay gremlin zone o/

My main thing is Fragments, a wolgraha/wolemet comic that takes its sweet time. Launched in 2022, it has enough script to last for a good decade. It updates every other friday. It's written first and drawn second, meaning that I pay great attention to pacing, themes, characters etc. It's not a 1:1 msq retelling, the canon divergence grows over time. My fresh approach and the dialogue quality start to slowly gain critical acclaim if you ask around.

Also I'm an edgelord, therefore the soft and silly scenes sit next to dark and angsty ones.

I'm mainly writing this because my recent Alisaie art brought in a veritable crowd, she's a major character in Fragments too! She starts out wrestling with a crush that only causes problems to everyone, eventually gets over Vivi, grows into a proper friend and finds a woman she likes. That can't happen overnight, and it's a mere subplot, so I suggest enjoying it as a part of the course instead of expecting it to be the main dish.

Fragments is a work for a mature reader capable of thinking for themselves. The thing I cherish the most in ShB is moral ambiguity, and I'm further expanding upon it by showing every mc's pov and refraining from making judgements.

If that sounds fun to you, take a seat and watch this local elf hurt everyone including himself.

Read Fragments on tumblr or webtoon!

The stuff I post aside from the comic is random art, when I take a break from drawing The Big Thing by drawing something else, I strive to reset my brain and do something different, like painting or animation. I also yap and shitpost to my heart's content.

There's always someone who missed the thing I posted a week or a year ago, so I self-reblog a lot. I encourage and appreciate it when people take the initiative and interact with my old posts!! Feel free to binge-like or reblog EVERYTHING. Here are a few fun tags to start: wolgraha | wolemet | feo ul | alisaie

[itsnesss]

𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐦𝐲𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | oscar piastri × fem!reader

summary | after distancing yourself from oscar, you realize your hands are covered in blood, weighed down by the pain and betrayal

warnings | betrayal, heartbreak, mentions of toxic relationships

word count | 1.2 k

🖇️ sctw album 🖇️ more op81

You weren’t supposed to see him tonight.

Monte Carlo was meant to be your getaway, not a reminder. You had spent weeks carefully putting space between yourself and everything that reminded you of him—deleted photos, archived texts, blocked notifications. But Monaco has a way of throwing people together, especially when it’s race weekend and the city feels more like a pressure cooker than a paradise.

You arrived at the club with a mission: look untouchable, feel unstoppable, and pretend like you’d never even heard the name Oscar Piastri.

For the first hour, you succeeded.

Your red dress fit like it was painted onto your skin. Your laugh rang out above the bass. You danced like your heart wasn’t broken. And the guy who bought you a drink—tall, charming, accent you didn’t quite place—was good enough company that you didn’t care what time it was.

Until you felt the heat of a stare burn into your back.

You turned slowly. Your heart stuttered before your brain even caught up.

Oscar.

Same hair. Same frustratingly unreadable expression. Same black shirt you once wore to sleep, back when you still believed in late-night phone calls and soft apologies.

Your breath caught. Not because you missed him. But because your body remembered what your mind had tried to forget.

And worst of all—he looked at you like *you* were the ghost.

Two weeks ago, you would’ve dropped everything to talk to him.

Now? You took a sip of your drink, smiled at the man next to you, and kept dancing.

Let him watch.

Let him feel it.

But you didn’t expect him to follow you upstairs.

The rooftop was quiet, lit only by soft strings of lights and the far-off glow of the harbor. You leaned against the railing, the city stretching out beneath you like a glittering secret.

He spoke first.

“I didn’t expect to see you.”

You didn’t turn around. “You never really see me unless I’m walking away.”

The silence between you expanded like a wound.

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” he said finally.

You laughed—sharp and humorless. “That’s the problem, Oscar. You *weren’t* trying anything.”

He stepped beside you, just enough to be near. Not enough to touch.

“I thought I was protecting you.”

“By hiding me?” You turned to face him. “You posted *her*. You took *her* to paddocks, events, dinners. But with me? It was always ‘Let’s keep this lowkey.’ I thought I was being patient. Turns out I was just being stupid.”

His jaw tightened. “It wasn’t like that.”

“It was exactly like that,” you snapped.

You looked him over—his tired eyes, the tension in his shoulders, the faint crease between his brows.

“I held your secrets like they were sacred,” you said, voice softening. “I protected you even when it broke me. And you let me.”

He swallowed. “I didn’t know how to fix it.”

“Then maybe you didn’t deserve me in the first place.”

You walked past him, heels clicking against the tile.

He didn’t follow.

Not this time.

Back at the bar, your phone buzzed.

Unknown number. One message.

"I’m sorry."

You deleted it without reading the rest.

The next morning, he was everywhere.

His face on sports pages. His name trending. Smiling for cameras, walking with his team, surrounded by noise. Like he hadn’t just shattered you in private while shining in public.

But you didn’t let it break you.

You walked through the paddock like a flame in human form. Head high. Smile sharp. A new guy on your arm—nothing serious, just a pretty distraction with a good sense of humor and hands that knew where not to touch.

And yet, Oscar noticed.

Every time.

Two days later, you ran into him again. This time, alone.

It was late. Most of the team had gone. You were at the circuit to meet someone else, but he was the only one still lingering near the garages.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

You didn’t slow your stride. “You really need to stop showing up.”

“Then tell me you don’t feel anything.”

You stopped. Turned.

“I feel,” you said, stepping closer, “like I’ve got blood on my hands. From fighting battles for someone who never fought for me.”

That hit him harder than you expected. He blinked, stunned.

“I feel,” you continued, “like I wasted time loving someone who didn’t know what to do with it.”

His voice was hoarse. “I didn’t know how to love you back the way you deserved.”

“That’s not an excuse. That’s a choice.”

He didn’t try to argue. Just stood there, hands in his pockets, looking at you like maybe now—now that you weren’t his—he was finally starting to see you.

You left without looking back.

Days turned into weeks.

You didn’t text him. Didn’t stalk his socials. You buried the pain in workouts, travel, new friends, and better habits.

And then came Barcelona.

Another city. Another race. Another chance for the past to catch up.

Except this time, he showed up.

Not just in person. In effort.

You arrived at your hotel to find a note under your door.

"Let me explain. One chance. Just us. No cameras. No bullshit. Rooftop. Midnight."

You stared at it for ten full minutes.

Then, against your better judgment, you went.

He was already waiting, leaning on the railing, staring out at the skyline like it held all his regrets.

You didn’t speak first. Let him carry the weight this time.

“I never deserved you,” he said quietly.

“No, you didn’t.”

“But I want to now.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What changed?”

“I did.”

He turned to face you. “I’ve been watching you these last few weeks. Not like a creep,” he added quickly, “just… noticing. You look lighter. Stronger. Happier.

You didn’t answer.

“I thought I was protecting you by hiding what we had. But really, I was protecting myself. My image. My comfort.”

He stepped closer.

“I know I don’t have the right to ask for another chance. But I’m asking anyway.”

You studied him. The man in front of you wasn’t the same boy who made you feel small in private. He looked tired. Sincere. Older.

“Why now?” you asked.

“Because losing you hurt more than I thought it would. And I realized—if I have to choose between a perfect image or a real future with you, I’m picking you. Every time.”

Silence.

Then: “I don’t know if I trust you.”

“I’ll earn it back.”

“How?”

“One day at a time. However long it takes.”

You looked at him for a long moment.

Then turned away. “I’m not saying yes.”

“I know.”

“But I’m not saying no.”

He exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath for weeks.

“I can work with that.”

From that night on, things changed.

Not all at once. But enough.

He stopped hiding.

He showed up.

He brought you coffee during media days. He let people see. He didn’t post you right away—but when he finally did, it wasn’t forced. It was quiet. Honest. A soft photo of your intertwined hands with no caption.

He told the world without shouting.

And this time, he stayed.

Months later, you’re at another rooftop—this time together, his jacket over your shoulders, his hands on your waist, the city asleep beneath you.

“I still have blood on my hands,” you whisper.

He presses a kiss to your temple. “Then let me help you wash it off.”

And this time, you believe him.

tags | @ebkitty

[heavenlyraindrops]

“ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ.” | ᴋᴇɴᴊɪ ꜱᴀᴛᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | { ɪ }

☆ Warnings: profanity, sports!photographer!reader, fem!reader, afab!reader, for future chapters: social media au, eventual smut

☆ 1.3k words | Available on: Tumblr, AO3

A career in sports photography was never something your parents wanted for you- they had decided your career path since the moment you were born. A surgeon. Bound to make them plenty of money, to make them proud. They wanted it more than anything else, and…

You decided that wasn’t your problem. 

You researched the job, the career path, and began building a portfolio. Taking pictures of athletes at games, major ones and others such as college games. Mostly baseball. In fact, it was almost all baseball.  

Oh. College games. Baseball.

You’d attended college in the States, attending the baseball games and snapping pictures. And, for some reason, you seemed to gravitate towards one specific player. 

You had no idea what his name was.

You didn’t share any classes. You saw him around campus occasionally, but you weren’t one for parties so you had no chance of running into him at one of those. Your circles barely even touched. You didn’t know each other at all. 

Correction: he didn’t know you at all, and you only knew him as the hot athlete guy you took pictures of. 

-

“Another one?” Your friend, Taika grumbled, another one of your posts coming up on her feed. “[name], this is the fifteenth time you’ve posted this guy.”

You rolled your eyes, laptop balanced on your thigh as you edited a picture. “I’m just building my portfolio.”

“No one’s gonna hire you if your portfolio is just a million pictures of the same guy.”

“It’s not, there’s other pictures too.”

“Yeah, like, two.”

“Hyperbole much?”

Taika sighed aggressively, setting her phone-face down next to her as she leaned forward, face turning serious. “[name], is this some weird fetish? Kink?”

“What?” You almost threw your laptop at her. “You’re so dramatic. Obviously it’s not. What kind of kink would that even be?”

“Just admit you think he’s hot.”

You pressed your lips together, slamming your laptop shut. “Okay, get out.”

“But-!”

“Out!”

-

And that was that. You kept taking pictures of Mysterious Hot Athlete Guy,, eventually veering away from him in the end to expand your name. Your portfolio grew, you gained jobs, and your parents got increasingly frustrated until the point where they threatened to cut contact with you. 

You didn’t care. This was your passion. You’d much rather be on a pitch, capturing the essence of exhausted yet still exhilarated camaraderie than in a sterile surgeon’s scrub, brandishing a scalpel, cutting into flesh to expose your patients innards. 

Unfortunately they went through with the threat. Oh well. 

With the little savings you had, the weight of college debt for a degree you’d never use on your shoulders and your rather expensive camera equipment for which you’d somehow managed to scrape together the money for, you decided to follow Taika back to Japan.

“There’s plenty of opportunities for you there,” she told you.

Taika, being a trust fund baby, had more than enough of her parents' money to support herself, and you in Japan. You slowly grew your career and by a couple of months, you could afford to move into your own apartment. 

And now you were a- somewhat-well known sports photographer in the industry, despite never actually having a stable job, and… that was that. 

That was your story. 

But not the end of it.

Because after a good few months deep into your path of sports photography, a baseball player rose to stardom. 

Kenji Sato.

-

“Oh my god!” Taika grabbed onto your arm, nails digging into your skin and making you yelp as she thrust the phone in your face. “Dude! That’s the guy you had a crush on in college!”

Your face burned with embarrassment, and your voice was grating. “I didn’t have a crush on him.”

He just had a nice… bone structure.

Maybe I should have taken pictures of models for magazines or something. 

You looked at the article. Newest player on the field sparks talk of the rise of a new baseball legend. 

Oh damn. Maybe he should have been a model. 

“Kenji Sato,” Taika read out the name. “Dude, I swear this is the guy.” Pulling up your instagram account, she scrolled all the way to the bottom, at your earlier days of shooting. “Dude. That’s him.”

“It’s him,” you said weakly. She grinned at you, a knowing smirk that made you want to tear her hair out. 

-

Another stretch of time passed, until the days where your life was immediately thrust into a direction it did not give consent into going. 

Firstly, Ken Sato made headlines by coming back to Japan. Secondly, you’d landed a job at a baseball game in the Tokyo Dome. Thirdly, it was the game which the Yomiuri Giants were playing. 

You were now on the corner of the pitch, equipment set up, game in full play. The heat of the crowd pressed down on you as you angled your camera at a figure all too familiar. 

Fucking focus, [name].

The ball whizzed through the air. He hit it, arm and bat lashing out, and-

“Fuck!”

You cursed, jerking away from the camera set up and throwing your hands over your head. It fell to the ground, shattered, and the ball rolled across the ground, hitting your knee. 

You looked up. The crowd was roaring. Your head was ringing, feeling faint as you stared at the broken camera lying on the ground. Oh jeez, you were going to faint. Fuck, those players hit the ball hard.

You looked up and saw Ken Sato hurrying towards you. 

And that was when you fainted. 

-

Kenji Sato was going to fucking jump off of a bridge.

Pacing his living room, he dragged his hands through his hair, muttering a string of curses under his breath. “Mina, I’m so screwed.” He paused, looking at her hopefully. “Am I? Screwed, I mean.”

“That would be an interesting topic of debate, Ken.”

“Give me a proper answer, dammit!”

“You’ll be fine.”

“What about the girl?” He stopped suddenly, freezing in place. “I feel awful, you know.” Mina stared at him. “Yes, I can feel regret. Shocker.” He ran his hand through his hair, again. “I already replaced her broken stuff, right?” He looked sick. “Should I apologize? In person? Over text?”

“You could apologize over text,” Mina said.

Kenji immediately fell into the couch, pulling out his phone. “What’s her instagram account name?” Pulling it up, he scrolled through the photos. “[name] [surname], sports photographer,” he read aloud, eyes flicking down to the pictures. 

“She has taken photos for teams, articles, and even major sports magazines.” Mina flew down, hovering near his head as he scrolled curiously. 

“How many photos do you bet she’s got of me?”

“Would you like me to run a search?”

Ken looked up, surprised. “I was just kidding.” He dug his nail beneath his other nail, considering the offer, but Mina was already doing it. 

“Approximately ninety-seven out of two-hundred and twenty-nine images posted on her professional account include your face,” Mina concluded. Ken stared at her blankly. She remained silent for a few more seconds, letting it sink in, then spoke again. “I suggest scrolling to the very bottom of her account, her earliest days of photography, Ken.”

“Ninety-seven?” He asked incredulously, and Mina simply repeated her previous statement. Scroll down.

He did. It took him a while, but he finally managed to hit it, and-

“I’m in college in these.”

His eyes scanned the pictures on the screen- most of which were of him. College games, every one of them. He’d never noticed her in the crowd. Had he?

And there were so, so many.

He could feel heat creeping up his neck. He didn’t find it creepy, or stalkerish- not at all, but instead dared to feel a tiny bit flattered. 

Oh, she was obsessed with me. That’s kind of cute. 

He wondered if she still was. 

Taglist: @moonjellyfishie, @lovingyeet, @aise-30, @scarasw1f3, @v1ennie im only doing taglist this once but I’d prefer it if people just followed me instead because they’re such a hassle

[sluglore]

Explaining The Iterator's Purpose (And Why They Weren't Made to Circumvent The Echoes)

Alright, I know there's already been a few posts like this out there, like this older one from @halvedforest, and this recent one from @noizepushr, which are both good posts, but I've been meaning to touch up and cross-post my own older misconceptions post from reddit for a while now, and provide a deeper, more expanded analysis as to why this misconception exists and explain what's actually going on, so here it finally is haha I'll also be using the term 'Benefactor' instead of 'Ancient', if people are confused about that, I intend to make a post about it eventually ^^

( If you're confused on who out there even believes this, this idea originated from Rain World YouTube lore videos, long before Downpour was ever a thing! It is unfortunately still quite prominent on there... but it's definitely getting better :3 )

This misconception stems from misreading the singular pearl to ever mention the echoes, being the Bright Red farm arrays pearl, so let me begin by attaching the specific section below:

“There were some horror stories though... That if your ego was big enough, not even the Void Fluid could entirely cross you out, and a faint echo of your pompousness would grandiosely haunt the premises forever. So even when the Void Fluid baths became cheaper, some would still starve and drink the bitter tea.” (Bright red Farm Arrays pearl dialogue)

Note the specific usage of “some” here. Echoes weren't presented as an issue significant to re-center Benefactor society around, (let alone build the iterators for) but as some horror stories which only "some" people (likely on the fringes of society) would believe in. Nowhere are we given anything that alludes to the existence of Echoes being regarded as a societal problem to address, much less have anything to do with the Iterators.

Additionally, although we know for a fact that echoes do exist, its fairly possible that most of Benefactor society didn't, as LTTM doesn't even know what they are either, regarding them as nothing more than superstition. On the very next line, LTTM confirms that the void baths continued all the same, while again mentioning that "some" would still choose to abstain from them, and drink the bitter tea.

Then what’s the purpose of the iterators if they weren't created to circumvent the echoes? What is The Big Problem that they are even trying to solve in the first place? Well, both FP, LTTM, and the Exterior colored pearl dialogue spell the answer out for you. In fact, it's the first thing FP even tells you!

“The good news first. In a way, I am what you are searching for. Me and my kind have as our purpose to solve that very oscillating claustrophobia in the chests of you and countless others. A strange charity - you the unknowing recipient, I the reluctant gift. The noble benefactors? Gone.” (Five Pebbles dialogue to Survivor) (Monk's version also hits similar notes)

Five pebbles introduces himself as a “reluctant gift," with his purpose being "to solve that very oscillating claustrophobia in the chests of you and countless others," meaning to solve the cycles for everyone and everything else.

If you bring Looks to the Moon a neuron, she has the chance to repeat the same exact explanation to you.

"We were supposed to help everyone, you know. Everything. That was our purpose: a great gift to the lesser beings of the world. When facing our inability to do so, we all reacted differently. Many with madness.”

FP, LTTM, and the rest of their kind were created to serve the rest of the world in finding a method of total mass ascension, of ending the cycle entirely for everyone.... and everything. Not only including the fauna of the world, like the slugcat, but the bedrock, microbes and even gases, as explicitly stated in this snippet from the Exterior pearl dialogue below:

“The Moral Argument: Five Pebbles is our Creation, and we have Parental Obligations towards him. As an Iterator, he is also a Gift of Charity from Us to The World (unable to reach Enlightenment by itself - being composed mostly of Rock, Gas, dull witted Bugs and Microbes - and towards which We thus have Obligations)” (Pale Green Exterior pearl dialogue)

Here we have the Benefactors define it very clearly, that as an iterator, Five Pebbles is a "Gift of Charity from Us to The World." It's important to note that many misinterpret the next section in parentheses as being about FP himself, but if it were, it would be the only time FP is ever referred to as “it”. What's really being described is the world, “unable to reach enlightenment by itself, being composed mostly of rock, gas, dull witted bugs and microbes” The world is unable to reach Enlightenment on it's own and therefore, that's why the iterators were created. (Also- when you think about it, the description of "being composed of rock, gas, and dull witted microbes" doesn't even really fit FP's description lol)

Quick but necessary tangent, the concept of non-living things being apart of the cycle is a little confusing, and tricky to quickly answer without going deep into cycle lore discussion, (I have an entire post in drafts dedicated to clearing this up) but it's actually incredibly important for understanding what The Great Problem is! To shed some light, it's not that non-living matter are able to somehow comprehend the cycles, but that the entire physical world itself is actually an intrinsic part of the cycles.

If you leave a stone on the ground, and come back some time later, it's covered in dust. This happens everywhere, and over several lifetimes of creatures such as you, the ground slowly builds upwards. So why doesn't the ground collide with the sky? Because far down, under the very very old layers of the earth, the rock is being dissolved or removed. The entity which does this is known as the Void Sea. If you drill far enough into the earth you begin encountering a substance called Void Fluid. The deeper you go, the less rock and more Void Fluid. It's believed that there is a point where the rock completely gives way - below that would be the Void Sea. When that stone you placed on the ground has finally done its time in the sediments, it meets the Void Fluid and is dissolved, leaving the physical world. (Teal Subterranean pearl dialogue)

There's a reason that 'Cycles' is always plural in Rain World, because there's multiple of them! Organic life is in cycles, the physical bedrock of the world is in cycles, even the very concept of civilization is in cycles. In order to ascend everything, that means ascending not only all living things, but the entire physical universe itself! That's what the Great Problem really is :D (Also technicallyyy it's only ever referred to as "the big problem" and not "the great problem", the latter term stems entirely from the community but it's whatever i just wanted to quickly mention that. great problem definitely sounds cooler LOL)

In conclusion, Iterators are described as "Gifts to the World" not once, not twice, but three entire times throughout base game Rain World's dialogue, one from FP, one from LTTM, and one from the Benefactors. Rain World lore holds many unanswered, purposefully ambiguous questions, but the Iterator's purpose is not one of them!

If you're confused/interested in analysis of the Benefactor's motivations and perspectives on Ascension, I made a post a little while back containing my thoughts right here :)

[doublel27]

Look, Pathapi gets to be a bitch to Tamtawan for quite awhile over the manner of breakup (text as you were about to get on a plane my guy—real bad)

But also in ep 4 we got a much bigger look at Tamtawan’s POV in a way we haven’t before. @maybe-boys-do-love did a wonderful post on SOTUS-S and the 4-Act story structure that is common in Asian media and it really has changed my brain in analyzing BL.

The second phase is for growth and expansion and deepening an understanding of the problem, setting up Ep 4 as a perfect place to begin expanding. We head out into filming the new series for Phi and it takes us to Phi’s home, but it lets us into Tam’s perspective. It’s made clear from the moment Tam sets foot outside of Phi’s house in both the past and the present how much he loves it. Tam adores Phi’s mom, Phi’s childhood home, the place Phi is from. And we also learn that Phi was chasing Paul while Tam was pining, in the past, and that it wasn’t a smooth road to love.

Although the twist feels very sudden to me as an audience member and Tam, there are hints that Phi cares deeply for Tam before. But it wasn’t until this trip and Tam supporting him through his heartbreak that Phi could see it. I could see this sticking with Tam. That one moment he was comforting Phi over this huge heartbreak and the next minute Phi tells his mom he wants Tam to be his boyfriend.

But also, we got a very interesting conversation about Phi’s mom not wanting to accept Phi’s bids for her to move to Bangkok between Phi and Tam, and I want to come back to it. Because Tam was telling Phi that Phi actually needs to listen to what his mom wants and not what Phi thinks his mom should want. And it just felt very coded considering how in all the previous flashbacks we’ve gotten Phi’s dreams and Phi’s perspectives and I’ve already been wondering how what Tamtawan may have wanted may have gotten lost and to find that Phi also overlays his own vision of his mom’s future over her vision of her future….

Smells like a pattern to me.

But you know, I said last week we hadn’t been let into Tam at all, and this week we went to a place he is nostalgic for and next week we are going to his house!! Literally inside Tam’s space! I can’t wait.

Also the symbolism at the end with the coals!!

[dr3amfyr-e]

modern!jace bf thoughts ( wc. 1117 )

i’m shaking and foaming at the mouth I NEED HIM. i had to expel this from my brain before i could sleep, i’ll prob write more about these at some point. or maybe i’ll abandon this blog in a week 🤷‍♀️ we’ll see. i am able and willing to expand upon any of these, ask box is open >:)

jacaerys who is, first and foremost, a gentleman. he’s opening the door for you, pulling out your chair, giving you his jacket.

he buys you flowers — he knows your favorite kind, dw. he’s like the kind of boyfriend who makes lists of what their partner likes, but he doesn’t make a list, he just knows.

is it a little unnerving? maybe! but he just loves you :3

jacaerys who thinks to be loved is to be known. he wants to read your favorite books and listen to your favorite songs. he wants to know your coffee order and try it, so that he can experience something he knows you love. ( his is a caramel macchiato. btw. )

jacaerys who is so attentive and mother hen. he can clock if anything is wrong, like any change in your demeanor. in your vibe.

he’s brushing the hair back from your face, tucking it behind your ears. he’s fixing your jacket collar and re-looping your scarf. ( i want to say he fixes your posture, but look at his )

he can, and will, fix any problem you have. just tell him! confide in him! he wants you to!

he’s kind of a worrywort. did you eat? would you like to eat? how much did you sleep? are you okay? are you okay? hey, are you okay?

jacaerys who always smells good, and has clean clothes, but will force you to hug him when he’s sweaty from football ( ⚽️ ) or a run. gross!

speaking of running, if you stay with him at his family’s home in Dragonstone at any point over the summer you will be going for a run with him! sorry!

he’s talking you through it ( the run ) . he’ll go at your pace and coach you. you don’t have to go far either! he thinks you’re bonding by doing this 😊 ( he is wrong )

jacaerys who craves physical affection. he wants you touching him RIGHT NOW. PLEASE.

he’s got his arms around and/or his hand in yours, just, all of the time. fingers interlocked too, he will be adjusting your hand to achieve this position! :)

you’re sitting on the couch? he’ll be next to you in a sec! god forbid you want to sit in an armchair, he is in your lap ( jk. not really. ). he goes out of his way to be directly next to his partner. he’s standing next to you, sitting beside you. if you have class together, his seat is next to yours! eating together, he’s sitting next to you there too. he will also lay on top of you; if you’re vertical so is he.

but, to be more serious: he thrives on the reassurance. if you’re holding his hand, he knows you’re with him. if he can wrap his arms around your waist from behind, it’s reassurance that you’re not going anywhere, he’s got you.

( children of divorce* just act like this, dw )

jacaerys who feels all of his emotions. he does not bottle things up 🙅‍♀️

he cries: when he’s frustrated, when he’s upset, when he’s angry — especially in front of his mom ( this is canon )

sure, he’s confident and self-assured. but he’s also vulnerable, and it’s good!!!

he confides in you ( a big believer in ‘date your best friend’ ), he hopes you feel safe to do the same <3

i talked about it in this post — he can be really mean. it’s defensive, he doesn’t mean to, but it happens much more than he’d like ( he’s still unlearning things from his childhood )

it rears its head when you’re arguing, or if he feels trapped. and he’s good at it too, hitting the most tender spot he can.

he feels awful afterwards. he’s always quick to acknowledge what he did and apologize. if you cry, he’ll probably cry too ( that’s just how the cookie crumbles 🤷‍♀️ )

he’s on your level, holding your face in his hands, telling you how sorry he is. and, maybe he’s kissing the tears off of your cheeks — but, that’s between you and him

he’s aware of how unhealthy this defense mechanism is, he’s working on it! call him out! make him aware! he might not like it in the moment, but afterwards he’s appreciative. ( he’s in therapy! — all of rhaenyra and alicent’s kids are . )

jacaerys who drives and lets you mess with his radio. so often it’s his siblings and step-siblings he’s driving around, and he just wants to listen to his podcast, please, luke, don’t touch the radio.

but you? whatever! you can spend the whole car ride adjusting the station, or trying to pick a song on aux and he won’t care! or, you could talk over the radio ( he’s yelling at his brothers for this ) ! he just likes your presence.

both-hands-on-the-wheel driver, he might hold your hand at stop lights though. when he has to break hard he puts his arm out in front of you, to stop you from going forwards ( do you guys know what i’m talking about? ) he has supreme big brother reflexes

jacaerys who wants you to like his family so bad. they’re so important to him.

his best friend is his fifteen-year-old brother and he’s a major mama’s-boy, and he’s not embarrassed! he is a little nervous for you to meet everyone. it’s too hard to explain, so he doesn’t.

“ that’s my step-mother. yeah, she was married to my grandfather before she was married to my mother. um, so my step-siblings are technically my uncles and aunt. yeah, it’s kind of confusing. “

jacaerys who loves taking pictures of you. digital or film or phone, he’s on you like paparazzi. candid king.

you’re also going to be all over his instagram, sorry. he’s an instagram story fanatic, so you’re featured often. he prob has a highlight dedicated to you titled “ <3 “ or something.

jacaerys is a big kisser.

he’s kissing you on the mouth, often. probably when he shouldn’t.

most of the time it’s chaste kisses in parting, or sweet pecks because he just remembered he can do that!

also big on kissing your forehead and cheeks. and the column of your throat.

he’s polite and respectful! he will also make out with you any chance he can! slipping tongue in the stairwell at one of his mother’s galas. we are in public. ( he doesn’t care )

jacaerys who is such a lover boy. he just wants to love you, and show you how much he does. he takes pictures to immortalize memories ( okay roland barthes ) and engages in the things you love to experience you more intimately. he wants to make sure you’re safe, and happy, and cherished — like you deserve to be.

he wants to love, and to be loved.

[easy-there-leftovers]

I See You, Darling (2)

[Astarion x reader] Due to surprisingly overwhelming demand, the previous fic, along with this one and many more to follow, will now be part of a series!! It was honestly very difficult trying to come up with what happens next, but here we are. The idea came to me during a fever!! |Word count: 2.5k.| Based off of this post I made.

Part 1 here!!

Next part here!!

The reader believes they are in a dream. It wouldn’t be the first time their fantasies conjured up such an obscure, yet somehow realistic scene. And so they’ve elected to treat the experience with as much realism as one would observe in a dream; little to none.

Alternatively;An ex-art-student-now-traveler accustoms themselves to the party.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

“Shadowheart. Shadow…heart. Hm.” His gaze bounced between you and her. 

“I’m sure her parents meant well, but the name is rather ominous, isn’t it?” He leaned over to your side, not bothering to hide his blatant distrust. Lowering his voice dramatically, if anything.

“Unless she chose it herself. Which is even more worrying, honestly.” He chuckled out.

It had been no more than two bells after mornbright when you met Astarion. Since then, you’ve come to realize how…different your presence has changed the course of the story. Though more subtle than you expected.

It would seem as if you had met the elven vampire before the party was formed, which was strange as your last save point was far later than that and the forest had been quite a long way from the beach.

When you finally stumbled upon Shadowheart, he was quick to share his inner thoughts that you haven’t heard from the game before. 

As they continued with their quest to find a cure for the Illithid problem, expanding their party as they did so, you had tried to make yourself useful by doing the dirty work for them. Looting and opening crates filled with camp supplies, armor, and potentially useful weapons and artifacts could always come in handy for trade or for “artifact consumption,” as per Gale’s need. Sorting them for your group’s convenience.

And while you did not have more direct and immediate practical use for your course of study in the modern world, the research you’ve created and reviewed for character creation and world building was doing wonders for your survival.

Or as much as it can for a magicless, not so athletic human. 

The “runes” of the medieval ages that have been carved into stone, along with the basic history and background of the common races and deities of the fantastical world that tabletop RPG has offered puts you at quite an advantage.

Not to mention your experience with the areas of the game giving you the same effect.

But this library of information had also aroused something akin to suspicion and concern. It would be understandable if you were a simple traveler just like them, or perhaps even an artisan from the guild, but you were not as astute as either background.

So how could you have access to this much knowledge yet be unaware of more practical matters? It’s as if you had simply read about it from somewhere. 

Astarion had been quick to give an explanation before you could form one of your own that could poorly convince your companions. Although, perhaps his suggestion was more outlandish than anything you could have come up with.

“They came with me. Property and all the formality that comes with it. A family pet, if you will.” A perfect excuse to justify your constant proximity to him, and a likely explanation to being well read, but not well experienced.

You thought nothing of the title, your apathy to the non-hazardous labels of this world apparent.

The same couldn’t have been said about your associates who had a few comments about this disclosure.

“I am unfamiliar with the–well, I shall not say ‘culture.’ ‘Customs’, perhaps. I did not think your kind to house such breed of cattle. Perhaps they could be useful.” Was Lae’zel’s. 

“I assure you, they typically don’t. Humans aren’t naturally subservient to Elves, at least in this manner. This setup sounds more akin to slavery. Blink twice if you need help.” Was Gale’s response. 

“It seems like Astarion's from the upper city, given the embroidery on his armor. I wouldn’t put it past them to have servants that follow them around.” Shadowheart’s nose crinkled at the thought. 

The party already had such an interesting rapport. Not entirely comfortable with one another to divulge everything, but loose enough to have semi-pleasant conversation with.

You thought this as you sorted out the fruits of your collective labor into neat pouches and bags, keeping items similar to one another factioned into their respective holding space. The chest being closer to Withers more than you’d like, but it was nice to hear the ramblings of an…undead person? Hearing someone continuously talking allows you to be more productive.

You’ll admit, handling enchanted armor and crystals does make you a tad nervous but you’re comforted by the thought that it will not be you who wields it in battle.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Gale approaching your direction. Possibly to ask for his share of the camp supplies just a little earlier to sate himself as you had an abundance of it for now. You regard him with your back turned and he stops for a bit.

“I will say that I don’t have the lightest of feet, but I figured myself better at sneaking around.” It’s not his fault that he got caught, but the bright purple robe and the smell of the oils you’ve been crafting for them are particularly noticeable.

“You are, but I’ll assume you're not exactly in the best shape after dealing with a few goblins.” You hold up a bottle of a healing potion, swinging it a bit with your fingers to indicate that the smell had warned you of his arrival.

“You’ve got a keen nose on you. Must be from all of Astarion’s training but, speaking of which,” He nears himself to your crouched form, going in to lean against a very old and empty crate.

“Gale, wait–” Right as your warning leaves you, they seem to evade him as falls right through the wood. A comical layer of dust and lichen pluming out from the force. He tries to quickly recover from both the physical and emotional damage as he brushes himself off to make himself presentable once more. 

“Ahem, as I was saying,” He again makes his way over to you, settling for just standing close as his attempts to look unbothered temporarily cost him his ego.

“I was serious about what I said before. While I don’t know what to make of our pallid friend just yet, as enigmatic as he is, what he said before is quite confusing. Best make haste away from here if you want your freedom while we’re distracted with this worm problem.” His tone suggests a genuine concern which confuses you.

You’d be lying to yourself if the label of the set up didn’t sound odd, but you’ve never expressed discomfort as there was nothing all too worrying about it on your end. It was mostly for show, and you had as much independence as Tav would have in your game.

You endeavor to quickly dispel his worries.

“You don’t have to worry, I’m very satisfied with my servitude under Astarion. He’s very lenient and reliable, and I’m better off with him than on my own." You return to your task of sifting through your materials but pause and look back up at him to continue.

"I do thank you for turning my way though. Your concern is much appreciated but unnecessary.” You lowered your head a bit to show your thanks.

“Well if someone as generous as yourself says to trust you on this, then I have no choice but to concede! I’ll keep a watchful eye and offer guidance, should you need it. Also, do we happen to have something for—” As he asks you for some sort of salve, just a few ways off, your eccentric “handler,” of sorts, watches the two of you interact.

Don’t get him wrong, such matters don’t really catch his attention, but being an elf does curse him with the ability to have extensive hearing. Something that he thinks Gale knew, and something you forgot. That would explain the lack of distance between you two.

He thinks it’s amusing how the wizard is trying to make conversation with you as if you were some foreign creature. His usual eloquence nowhere to be seen, and you seemed as unbothered as ever. Like how he usually saw you when you conversed with someone through a crystal.

It was a phone, not that he knew that though.

“They’re a real nice one, aren’t they?” Karlach says from her side of the camp which was nearer towards his tent and yours.

“Hm, yes. While that may be an admirable trait, it’s hardly going to get them anywhere if they keep this up.” Astarion huffed out, not very keen on your altruistic playstyle so far.

He doesn’t know much about what you do and don’t know, all he knows is that you do know of the events to unfold and could be the key to defeating his master.

 All he needs is to keep you at his side. So he’ll allow you this much freedom.

“Oh come on, you. You can’t seriously think that after everything. Our camp’s pretty well maintained because of ‘em, not to mention the connections we’ve been able to get!” She fortifies her statement by knocking on her chest, the engine humming within feels lighter and newer since you’ve informed her of the tiefling blacksmith at the grove. 

He hums in response, returning to reading his book as he thinks about his growing hunger. He’ll have to hunt soon enough. While your positive reputation occasionally reflects on him by proxy, it can also reflect negatively due to the alleged nature of your relationship. If he wants the journey to a way of understanding the tadpoles to be a more comfortable one, he has to at least prevent their trust in him from diminishing.

~

Night falls later than he’d have liked, having waited for everyone to be asleep so that he may prowl the forest for sustenance.

The rest were sound asleep in their bedroll as the skirmish from earlier on in the day had proven to be sufficiently tiring. The crackling fire surely brings a lulling warmth that he supposes he’ll have to miss out on for a while.

As he begins to slink off into the darkness, he looks back to gauge his surroundings and catches your form from across the settlement. It seems you were tallying away the items in the shared chest and double-checking to see that everything is checked and balanced with your records. 

Your shoulders jump at his suddenly standing form, but try to understand his intentions. You mouth, “where?” with a very confused face, to which he responds with a simple shushing motion and waits for your acknowledgement.

You nod slowly, and he holds your gaze before sneaking off once again.

‘He’s coming back, right?’ You wondered. The progression of your experience now in comparison to the game was vastly different, and you didn’t know if all scenes, or only some, would present themselves in this world. You assume he planned to hunt, and while you trust his abilities, you want to make sure he’s attended to properly should he be harmed in any way.

So after retrieving a few potions, a journal, and a pencil, you stashed them in a satchel and positioned yourself at the base of the tree in the direction he left in. You weren’t particularly sleepy tonight, and planned to pass the time in wait of your companion. 

There wasn’t much to do in this century to keep yourself entertained. The only things you’ve found so far were a few instruments and all manners of journals and inks.

The inkpot that you picked up appeared to be red this time. The game of, “which ink dye will I get this time?” will have to be the most of your entertainment for now. Not all too different from home, you suppose. And while writing keeps your mind at bay, illustrating all manners of wildlife have proven to be quite the fun exercise. 

You’ve made a few notes on creatures that you and your company have encountered. The visual elements of a drawing allowed you and the others to keep track of materials that could be salvaged from them, and their resistances to certain attacks. 

Though as much as you liked depicting such lifeforms in paper, you’ve come to be very interested in portraying your vampire friend.

Evidence of your interest present in the pages filled with his likeness as you search for an unmarked page. You’ve made a few of the others, yes, but anyone who would gain access to your journal would surely see which member of the group you favor more.

You continued to draw, and occasionally write, on the parchment as you waited for Astarion to come back. All sense of time evading you as you focus on the task at hand.

A perfect opportunity for a tired rogue to surprise an unsuspecting human.

“And what are you still doing up, little one?” He appears from behind the very tree you rested against, causing you to spill a bit of ink on your thumb.

You clicked your tongue, not at all annoyed by the character but by your absentmindedness and now stained appendage.

“Sorry, I was just waiting for you.” You sealed the inkpot, and gathered your materials. Effectively, but unknowingly, hiding your work from peering eyes that were the same deep red as your finger.

“I’m very flattered, darling. But couldn’t you wait until morning? I'm sure this couldn’t have been all too important, yes?” He gestures to your satchel, referring to your journal, but you misinterpreted it as him asking for your medical supplies.

“Oh, that depends. Are you hurt, by any chance? I stayed awake in case you might've needed help tending to yourself.” You opened the pouch to reveal its contents to him, your stained thumb in full view.

The sight makes him sigh out, but is thankful for your offered service.

“I’m alright, nothing of interest happened while I was away.” He considers telling you about the nature of his little…'escapade.' He's unaware if you are of his condition, and he doesn’t wish to out himself if not necessary to avoid possible conflict. So he settles for advising you to rest.

“We need you well rested, my dear. You sleep. I’ll keep watch.” The dialogue is familiar, and you can’t stop yourself from letting a small laugh out as you responded with an equally familiar line

“Thank you. I’ll sleep better for that.” You lower your head as you usually do in gratitude.

“The pleasure is all mine.” He mirrors your gesture, albeit in a way that is most appropriate for someone of his character. “Sweet dreams.”

You walked back to the chest. Returning the potions and ink you’ve plucked from the supply, but keeping the rest of the pouch’s materials with you as you turn in for the night. Awaiting the promise of further study that a new day typically makes.

As Astarion is left with his own thoughts, a sour taste still in his mouth from his earlier meal, he thinks about the man in the journal you kept. He did not see much, only a vague outline of the figure. He thinks about who, or what, it could have been but dismisses the thought rather quickly.

He has no time for a mysterious person with hair less perfect than his own, touching his untainted locks as he does.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

Thank you everyone for your interest in the series!! As per the request of some, I'll now be adding a taglist!

Thank you to @rey26, @shyminnie07, @lynnloveshobi, @iggee-rose, @automnepoet, and @tiannamortis for asking to be tagged!!

[marauder-misprint]

Congrats on 1,000 followers! I just recently found your writing and started binge reading. I was wondering if you could write the getting asked out prompt; “one problem, you hate me.” with George Weasley. Something like f!reader’s close with Fred but has always secretly liked George and George acts cold towards her because he think she’s interested in Fred when he’s always fancied her?

Thank you! ❤︎ I swear I posted my 1,000 Followers celebration and then immediately forgot how to write. Brains are stupid.

BUT! I am happy to be slowly expanding my Golden Trio era writing ❤︎

Hope you enjoy ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

One Problem

George Weasley x reader

1.9k words

cw: pining, fluff, y/n

For most people, Fred and George were a package deal. If you were friends with one, you were automatically friends with the other. You were one of the few who only managed to befriend one of them. You and Fred served a detention together during first year and since then, you have been friends. George also had detention that night, but he was halfway across the school with a different professor. Professors learned quickly to not put Fred and George in the same detention. 

Somehow in all the times you went to Gryffindor parties and Hogsmeade with Fred, George never seemed to get the memo that you and Fred were friends. In all the times you did homework with Fred, walked with him to class, talked to him during said classes and even sat with him during meals, George rarely interacted with you. You only minded a little bit because if you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to respond if he did talk to you for longer than thirty seconds. 

Through your friendship with Fred, you’ve been able to be near George. Close enough to know that he uses a different cologne than Fred, that his handwriting is more swoopy than Fred’s, that he’s more of the brains behind their pranks and products while Fred is the idea guy. You find yourself laughing harder at George’s jokes and staring at him during quidditch practices and games. You were simply drawn to George.

It felt like some kind of cruel joke that you’re able to have such a close relationship with Fred while crushing hard on George. 

“Fred!” you called, jogging to catch up to the twins as they walked to Hogsmeade. 

“Hey! No girls today?” he asked once you got closer. 

George shifted slightly away from you on the path and you tried to ignore it.

“No. They all got dates. There must be something in the air or something…” you said, shaking your head. “My options were to either cry in the library over Snape’s essay or hope to run into you.”

“You have time to turn back,” George muttered.

You shot him a quick glare before turning back to Fred. “D’you mind if I tag along? Or is this precious twin time?”

“You’re always welcome with us,” Fred said, throwing a loose arm over your shoulder. “Right, Georgie?” 

“Right,” he grumbled with an eye roll that Fred missed. 

It became more clear that you weren’t intruding on twin time when Lee joined the group in Hogsmeade. As things normally went when it was the four of you, you split into two pairs: you and Fred, Lee and George. The boys’ first stop was always Zonko’s. You never bought anything for yourself in there, but you loved watching the three of them start to formulate prank ideas as they browsed the stands. Even just watching the boys shop, your eyes lingered on George. You never worried about getting caught staring; George didn’t look at you. 

The next stop was Honeydukes. This was where you spent your galleons. Fred followed you around like a shadow so he could influence your purchases with the hopes of being allowed to mooch off of your haul. George walked around the shop with Lee, but much like you in Zonko’s, his gaze found its way to you. 

“You’re staring again,” Lee sighed as he decided on which flavor of sugar quill he wanted. He didn’t need to actually look at George to know that he was staring. 

“I’m not.” George diverted his eyes from you. “You always pick the red one. Doubt you’re going to branch out now.” 

“You know you’d have a better shot with her if you actually talked to her, rather than creepily staring at her from across the store?” 

George snorted a laugh. “No shot with her to be had, Lee. She obviously fancies Fred.”

“If she fancies him, how come they haven’t snogged? She’s proper fit.”

“I don’t know. Do I look like Fred to you?” George sighed once he saw Lee’s face and realized what he said. “Don’t answer that, you twat.”

“Just givin’ you my advice, that’s all. You got to relax and talk to her. She’s just a girl.” 

George wanted to laugh. Just a girl. A girl that Fred brought around, introduced to their friends and allowed to stay. A girl who fit in perfectly and who was perfect, in every way except for the fact that she liked Fred. Well, liking Fred wasn’t the issue, fancying him was. He thought it was obvious in the way that you looked at him and always walked up to his side. Even though you’ve been around their friends for years, you still went to Fred first. You always went to Fred. 

After you and Lee purchased your sweets, Lee had the group stop for some ink and extra parchment before you made your way to the Three Broomsticks. It seemed like every student in Hogsmeade had descended on the pub. You lingered by the door as you searched for an open table. The group had to wait for a few minutes until some seventh years got up to leave. Lee was first to the table to claim it. 

“I’ll get the butterbeers,” Fred said, leaving you with Lee and George. 

You sat quietly, looking from George to Lee and back. As usual, George wouldn’t look at you and Lee had a permanent look of amusement on his face. Fred came back with the four mugs, handing the first one to you. He sat down next to you after sliding two across the table. 

“Right, so you were talking about Snape’s essay earlier. I have not started that,” Fred said. 

“So glad I don’t have to deal with those anymore,” Lee said, picking up his mug. 

“Some of us don’t have the luxury of dropping Potions, Jordan,” you sighed. “I’m stuck with Potions and Herbology forever.”

“What was it you want to do after Hogwarts?” Lee asked.

“Healer,” you and George said at the same time.

You gave George a curious look. You were frankly surprised that he remembered. He had been around a few times when you talked about it with Fred, but you didn’t think he was paying attention. He looked away from you and you swore the tips of his ears were slightly pink. Odd. 

“Right, right, because you’re always fixing these two after a prank gone wrong,” Lee laughed. 

“Oi!” Fred claimed, making you laugh and Lee laugh harder.

“You’ve certainly given me some good practice!” you said, bumping his shoulder with yours. “I’ve gotten quite good!”

“Your episkey hurts,” George deadpanned.

“Well, it’s either painful episkey from me or having to explain to Pomfrey why seven of your toes were broken.” 

“You could’ve numbed my feet first!”

“I didn’t have that potion with me.”

“That’s why you can’t drop Potions,” Fred said. “Can’t have you fixing toes without numbing potions.” 

“Very unprofessional of you,” Lee said.

“Not a healer yet, boys. But once I am, I promise you, my services won’t be free to you gits.”

Fred gasped dramatically. “You’re going to charge us?” 

“How else am I going to make a living?”

“I got a few ideas of what you could–fuck, ow!” Lee said, earning him at least a kick from you. He also got kicked by both of the twins. 

The conversation shifted to Fred and George’s next products. There was some spitballing and brainstorming. Then homework came up again. More essays. A story about how a mandrake bit Lee during second year. And Fred showing off a scar on his arm from the garden gnomes at the Burrow. 

Soon enough, it was time for you to return to Hogwarts. You walked with Lee as the twins fell a little behind. Lee was attempting to convince you to share your Charms essay with him for “inspiration” and you told him to get “inspiration” from Fred or George’s essays. Apparently, they were going to use his. Which brought him back to asking for yours. 

“You ‘ight, mate?” Fred asked, giving George a sideways glance. 

He sighed. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“You ever kissed Y/N?”

Fred stumbled and mumbled, “Damn rocks,” when you briefly looked over your shoulder at him. Then he looked at George with narrowed eyes. “No. I haven’t. Never will. We don’t like each other like that.” 

George didn’t say anything. His thoughts lingered on how certain Fred sounded when he said we don’t. He was speaking for you too, but did he actually know? 

“You thinking about kissing her?” Fred asked after a few seconds.

“I… erm… might work up to it? You know, she’s pretty and stuff.”

Fred laughed. “And stuff!”

“You’re sure she doesn’t fancy you?” George asked, feeling a tad awkward about it all. Asking his brother if his good friend fancies him, and debating taking his shot if the answer’s no.

“Yeah. I think I’d know by now if she did.” Fred nudged George with his elbow. “Give it a go. You’re a pretty handsome bloke, if I do say so myself. And worst she can say is no, right?” 

“Yeah… Right.” 

George didn’t attempt to talk to you for the rest of the night. He didn’t change how he acted around you for a few days. He didn’t want to ask around Fred and you were always around Fred. George needed to get you alone. 

His chance came up when you were waiting for your friends outside of the library. Fred was off with Lee somewhere. You were alone, flipping through your Potions book with a frown on your face.

“Y/N,” he said, standing in front of you.

You lifted your eyes to look at George. Then you looked around. George didn’t talk to you unless Fred or Lee was around, and neither were. 

“Yeah?”

“I was wondering if you… if you’d want to go on a date with me sometime?”

Your heart stopped. George just asked you out? You’d always wanted this but it felt weird to actually have it happen. He can normally barely look at you.

You closed your book and crossed your arms. “One problem: you hate me.”

“I… I don’t hate you.”

“Sure act like it.”

George bounced on the balls of his feet briefly as his face flushed.

“That’d be because I really like you and thought you might fancy Fred.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Me and Fred? There’s nothing there besides good ol’ friendship.”

“So what about me? D’you think there could be something other than friendship here?” he asked, gesturing between you.

You bit the inside of your lip. This felt so out of character for George; well, being directed at you it was out of character. This George was the one you saw interacting with others. 

“You’re genuinely asking? Not some extravagant Weasley prank?” 

He nodded. 

“Then yes. I’d like that quite a lot. I mean, as long as you promise to actually look at me and talk to me?” 

“I can do that. I’ll even hold your hand if you’re up to it.”

“I probably will.” You smiled and then caught sight of your friends over George’s shoulder. “Erm, I see my friends, but I’m looking forward to our date.”

“Me too. I’ll talk to you later.”

He winked at you before turning to leave with more pep in his step than he had in a while. 

tags: @navs-bhat

[gohyuck]

you&i

image from user themightyjen on twitter

pairing: jeno x reader and they are exes but they get back together sort of (i mistakenly used a previous work of mine’s earlier pairing when i first posted this!)

genre: angst, fluff

word count: right under 1.5k, this was a quickwrite

notes: liam payne died so i started listening to one direction again and you & i just had me Thinking long and hard... also f1 mentions lol

It is a bizarre cliché, really, and you wish you could laugh at Jeno’s outstretched hand as he wordlessly begs you to follow him out onto the fire escape. Your building is not at all up to code, and you have to force yourself through one hardly-cracked open window to make it out to where he is, having climbed up from the outside. In a completely unsurprising move, he has an overloose black leather jacket on, though it doesn’t stay that way for long — he ignores you ignoring the hand he’d put out to help you through the window and instead puts it to use shirking the leather off and throwing it over his shoulder like some two-bit greaser. 

He dangles a Corona bottle — yeuch — from his other hand, and he treats it quite gingerly. Jeno’s projecting his feelings onto the delicate glass, because of course he is. He’s a shrink’s wet dream. Not too troubled, not too troubling, but still itching to hurt and be hurt. You expect that Jeno’s “fixable,” but neither you nor him expect you to be the one to go about doing any fixing. 

“Want some?” He anticipates that you’ll shake your head, can visualize the peach moscato in your fridge door at this very moment, practically tastes how too-sweet it is. You so badly want to grab the bottle from his hand and take a swig of what really is dry bready water just to spite him, but you can’t justify the assault on your taste buds. 

You shake your head, already dreaming of the peach moscato in your fridge door. That’ll be a treat after this whole thing. You, of course, are pushing your emotions away — your psychiatrist will love and hate the debrief that’s coming to her within the next 24 hours. 

“We’re like day and night.” You want to expand on your thought, but it seems impossible to verbalize beyond this vague utterance. Fuck your life. Jeno nods, bites down on a corner of his mouth before taking the kind of swig you’d briefly daydreamed of. When he puts his other hand down right by yours, your breath catches on impulse, but only for a second. 

“They bleed into each other sometimes.” He tells you this as if you’ve never experienced the sunset. You wish you could laugh at him, but that would be cruel, unusual, and untrue. Jeno, for all his pompous exterior, is the day in this make-believe situation. Of course, the two of you are more similar than you are different. Of course, if one of you actually acknowledges this fact, the other will refute it. Maybe you’re projecting now. His leather jacket and building climbing and Corona drinking self is such a caricature that he circles back to being unequivocally real to you. Unequivocally yours. 

“They’re broken up in the same way we’re broken up.” You try your resolve. 

“Are we broken up?”

“We could probably make it if we try.” You fold a corner of your lower lip into your mouth, tucking it gently between the harsh rows of your teeth. This is a tell, though of what, you remain unsure. Jeno thinks you’re being honest when you say this, but there’s something inherently duplicitous to even having thought it. Do you mean ‘making it’ as in ‘making it as a pair of exes’ or in some other more ephemeral way? He tries his luck. 

“Do you think they ever fight like us?” 

The reason for your most recent break up is, of course, some fight over something that must have been extremely important to both of you in completely separate ways, but neither of you can genuinely recollect the entire experience. For one, he’d been high, and you’d been drunk. Neither of your problems are too far gone to kick, but everyone relies on something or the other to get them through particularly rough weeks. It was rare that your vice intersected with his; it was rare either got out of hand. 

And yet. A joint may be the only thing conspicuously missing from him at this very moment, actually, but you don’t doubt that he has rolling papers in his back left pocket even now as he leans his ass against your building’s run-down brick walls. 

“The day and the night? I think they can’t stand each other.” You reach for his beer, and he gives it up with ease. He’s nothing if not giving. Your chest hurts, there’s a reason you don’t smoke. Jeno reaches around and puts his jacket over your shoulders as you take the tiniest of sips, and you settle into it like you’d slip into conversation with an old friend. Jeno’s pinky finger extends, and you feel the dull coolness of his faux silver ring press almost imperceptibly at the bottom of your own fifth finger’s second knuckle. 

He pulls a pack of Golds from his back pocket — you’d been wrong about the weed stuff, it seems — and you pull a cigarette out when he flips it open. Jeno’s eyebrows pull together, but every feature of his drops simultaneously when you simply turn it upside down and put it back in. The designated final smoke, for good luck. Your ex — ex? — pulls it together quickly enough, and you do him the service of pretending. 

“You can’t stand me?”

The defiance mingled with disbelief, confusion, genuine apprehension all come together into the kind of cocktail that can only break your heart. Jeno hasn’t even fished out a cigarette yet, his brilliantly red lighter undoubtedly still in his jacket. He really wants a straight answer from you. 

“Two Ferrari wins in a row, in the double header,” You just say, every other word tamped down on by an impenetrable force. “I still haven’t canceled my F1 TV subscription.”

“You’re really into it, no matter what you say.” He’s certainly right, but you refuse to let him know just how often Forza Ferrari Siempre really comes into play for you. Jeno, with his head in your lap as you take a swig of absolutely horrendous Big Red from a mug he’d made on a pottery date (“it’s good luck” your ass). Jeno, pacing around his dining table while he mutters about how Charles Leclerc suffers more than Jesus. Jeno, pulling you into his arms after you give him a Ferrari-red lighter on a whim. 

“I just like watching car crashes.”

“I still have the lighter you gave me.”

Both of you speak at once, stunned immediately into confused silence. A sob gets caught in your throat early enough to where it becomes a snicker, and Jeno sniffles into a snort of laughter, and suddenly you’re face-first in his chest and he’s giggling into your hair. He says something about being incapable of remembering what your fight was about, and you whisper that you know he’s smoking cigarettes so he stays off of weed and off of paranoia. You appreciate him. 

“We could switch vices,” He gestures towards the beer that’s in your hand. “Ever think about lighting up?”

“I’d rather die.” Your eyes turn up with the corners of your lips.

“We could make it if we tried.” Jeno shrugs, and his hand finally settles onto yours, a weight you’d sorely missed. Stupid, stupid argument with very real implications. 

“You and I?

“I can more than stand you, if that’s what you’re asking.” His tone of voice is jovial but his gaze is steady. His implicit question hangs in the air, the begging of reciprocity only unbecoming if verbalized. You turn your hand over under his and lace your fingers together, jagged and messy. 

“With all this teen angst in our twenties, we should probably start sitting down instead.” Jeno isn’t going to get too far through your general sense of levity, but he knows that you’ll murmur apologies and promises to him later tonight. You’ll make good this time, and so will he. 

“I’ll pour out your moscato if you put on the highlights from last week’s race.” He tilts his head towards your open window, and you set the Corona down at your feet, knowing full and well that neither of you are finishing that now. He’s made some amends though — you’ll work on the cigarette smoking, but at least it doesn’t affect how he treats you — and you recognize that you need to do the same. Jeno is sound to your silence. 

“Pour it into the sink, if you can.” 

Your boyfriend seems stunned, comically so as he pauses to look back at you while only halfway into your apartment. You follow up with some rib about how you still have Big Red in your fridge, stifling a laugh at his own wince, but his overarching surprise reigns supreme. He doesn’t even have to ask if you’re sure — his eyebrows do it for him. You nod, knowing all kinds of questions deserve answers.

“We can make it if we try.”

[domain-expand-me]

I've been going bonkers over Megumi x DILF!Reader because I know that boy has some serious daddy issues, having the reader being completely oblivious and doing things that definitely get the boy hot and nervous is MY SHIT.

I would love to see you expand on your writing about DILF/MILF reader with Megumi a bit more

Imagine

Megumi Fushiguro with a DILF!reader

Aged up characters, reader is in theirs 40s, cuz when i say dilf i mean it.

Imagine being the stereotypical dilf. Body broad and covered in a layer of fat, laying on top of strong muscles that comes from many years of physical labor. After moving into the house near the sorcerer campus, maybe after you got divorced, you somehow end up attracting the different sorcerers in the area.

But most of all, Megumi sticks around the most. You don’t truly notice at first, too busy digging around under the hood of whatever junker car you spend your time on, or banging around in your garage or shed like the most stereotypical dilf. But you start seeing him more and more, and at some point, you just start telling him to hand you different tools or help you out with your yard.

The first time you pat him on the back and praise him for helping, he goes bright red and immediately feels how hard he gets. Being oblivious and just thinking hes sticking around to be nice, you just ruffle his hair and move on, unaware of the way Megumi feels like his knees were about to buckle.

The other members from the campus notice pretty quickly where Megumi runs off to each day. Well, maybe not Yuji, but the others figure it out quicker than Megumi wants. Him returning with oil stains and wearing one of your ancient band t-shirts doesn’t help his case though.

Imagine Megumi realizing he has a huge daddy kink because of you. You jokingly say something like “who’s your daddy” after doing some kind of difficult task, and Megumi almost drops the toolbox he’s holding, blood rushing to both his heads, and he has to use the toolbox to cover the throbbing bulge in his pants.

Imagine Megumi coming to you for “dating advice”, since he wouldn’t be able to find it in himself to just make a move on you. Instead, he gets your dating history, and all the moves you pulled to get your ex. When he learns you are also into men, he almost has a heart attack. Maybe you’ve been drinking, having also offered Megumi some, since who are you to stop, and as you a slightly tipsy, you end up describing the best way to go down on someone in bed, and how to make a partner stay just from rocking their world on the regular.

Megumi ends up laying in bed later that night, teary eyed and huffing the shirt you let him borrow that day, his other hand tugging at his aching hard shaft, his entire body shaking and jolting from overstimulation as he made himself come over and over just thinking about you.

Imagine Megumi buying his first personal toy because of you. One day when you are laying by your pool, a pool you built yourself with Megumi’s help, naked as you assume you are alone, and you are too old to feel ashamed of your body. He gets a nice view of your cock, and even though its soft, he stumbles over his feet to hurry back to campus to take care of his very aching problem.

He spends a couple of lust fueled hours finding the perfect shape and size, getting a toy that has your skin tone. The next morning what one might call late post-orgasm clarity hits him. But when Megumi gets the package, he still squirrels it away, ashamed to use it. That is, until you just wind the poor boy up too much, walking around shirtless and sweaty, baseball cap on your head and shorts from your college days.

Imagine Megumi fingers deep in himself as he tries his damnest to suck down the entire length of the toy, tears gathering in his eyes as his gag reflex struggles against the silicone being forced down his throat.

Imagine Megumi clutching the sweaty shirt you had been wearing that day to his nose as he bounces on the toy, his own hard cock bouncing with his movements as he whines and whimpers, licking and sucking at the shirt that tastes and smells just like your sweaty manly musk.

Imagine how lightheaded he gets when he comes, having to choke down the noises he makes so as to not let everyone on campus know what he’s doing. Afterwards Megumi flops down on the bed, his entire frame shaking from the aftershocks of his orgasm as he pants into the sheets. His shaft gives another twitch when he takes another inhale of your shirt, the spikey haired sorcerer pushing himself up again, sinking down on the toy once more even as his insides throb from sensitivity.

Megumi would be too nervous and flushed around you to make a move on his own, at least when you are sober. But if you happen to be a little more than tipsy one day, sitting on your couch, trying to find something worth to watch on the tv, he might find the bravery and balls to crawl into your lap. If you ask about it the next day, he can just act like it was something your mind made up, right? So for now, he could indulge himself, grinding against you like a pup in heat, panting into your neck as your strong large hands grope at his hips and ass, your deep voice rumbling praise in his ear.

[makingspiritualityreal]

After reading yet another completely misinforming post on Saturn, filled with pointless negativity and lack of understanding, I feel like I need to set the story straight.

To understand Saturn, one needs to know its natural zodiacal place, which is after Jupiter. So Saturn is a natural consequence of Jupiter. This is where Vedic astrology is helpful, because we get the understanding of the planets from the Nakshatra order, which translates to all aspects of life.

If you want to understand Jupiter’s nature in a nutshell, I always think of Luc Besson’s “Lucy”, where by the end of the movie, we witness achievement of infinite consciousness. “I am everywhere” is Jupiter’s motto. It is constant growth and expansion, because Jupiter reflects the Divine nature of the Universe, everything being a part of a constant expansive plan. And we need that in our lives, because it keeps us going, the awareness that there is more to do, to create, to develop, always. That’s why Jupiter represents hope and perspective and can lead to success, because this is where we have the most energy to “spread”, the most will to continue constantly expanding and creating, which keeps us going and shows us the light at the end of the tunnel even in most difficult situations.

However, with all the positive aspects of Jupiter, over time we run into several issues. The first one is that constant growth also leads to danger of excess. If bushes grow and we don’t trim them, they become a mess. Everything that is not tended to, eventually decays without maintenance. And that next step, building on Jupiter’s expansion, is Saturn. The second one is energetic exhaustion, because any non abstract matter needs to reset cyclically to keep going. This also comes with the realization that if you are everywhere, you become a target for everyone, which is tiring too. Jupiter is a purely abstract planet, so it doesn’t understand that physical responsibility, but that realistic, necessary need for privacy, rest and break is Saturn. The last problem we run into is lack of focus. If we are everything and everywhere, we can also feel void, nothingness, because such is the duality of God and the Universe and with infinity there is no direction, so precise building becomes an issue. That organization, that narrowing down, that makes building and focusing possible is Saturn. That is also why Saturn is friend’s with Venus, the planet of decisions, because to make a decision you have to let go of something to prioritize over something else, and Saturn gives Venus that efficiency.

As you can see, fundamentally none of these traits of Saturn are bad or negative and all of them are essential. For instance, you can’t build a successful business without organization and compartmentalization, without being able to discard the unnecessary and control and cultivate your object of focus. If you struggle with any of the above processes in your chart, your Saturn is struggling by aspect, sign or dignity and it simply resists at performing a necessary job that it was meant to do. So any negative experiences with Saturn are simply what we can equate to a malfunctioning machine.

The collective fear mongering towards Saturn comes also from these malfunctions and also because other more impulsive, spontaneous planets don’t agree with its nature. Ernst Wilhelm says in his teachings that Saturn has so many enemies (Sun, Moon, Mars), and for that reason it’s easy to misunderstand it.

To give you an example, don’t believe any of the posts that say Saturn in the 2nd house will make you poor. It only will, if you make bad decisions with it, because every bad action in this life has a consequence. To contrast it, while an unafflicted Jupiter in the 2nd would have the karma of a certain level of basic financial freedom and certain creative financial intelligence “what can I buy and keep buying that will make my life better?”, Saturn in the 2nd would more enter the stage of “buying endlessly with no purpose is exhausting and wasteful, what can I buy and how can I invest in a way that yields long term dividends? How can I cut off excess to redirect these resources in a more useful way? Do I really need that much, or can I put certain resources towards something more worthy?”. So the theme here is responsibility for an allocation of every penny, not deprivation.

Saturn will perform on a similar principle in all houses, and that becomes really important when Saturn is a Karaka of a certain house, like in the 10th house, because some things cannot be achieved without focus. For instance, even if you do have a multitude of hobbies and several interests or even professions, you only have so much time each day, so narrowing down your options and choosing what is truly important becomes imperative, and that commitment of what you devote your time and energy to, that narrowing down and prioritizing of one avenue over another, is what over time becomes what we in the modern world call a career. If your life is scattered, you will never accomplish anything, even if your dreams were humble, and you will find yourself on your deathbed with no lasting legacy.

[fakedoe]

eng adaptation of a post that i made in my shitpost how i imagine the relationship between Pearl and Lapis! Pearl fell into apathy after Steven left because everything became quite routine despite the number of friends that were next to her I think that she couldn’t just forget everything that happened to her/because of her, although she tries (!!!) guys tried to cheer her up, but Pearl got tired of her constantly burdening everyone (a lot of guilt for everything that happened, still haunting) and she became more closed, trying to solve problems on her own, since after all it’s the third era and she should already move on (yeah, sounds like Steven) and then it comes to Lapis because the guys asked for help (???) and she even tried to do something, but of course nothing worked out because they already have a lot of their own unresolved problems (the same mirror that guys constantly talk about in the take of the fact that they basically can’t have anything in common :P) then she just started to get amused by scolding Pearl and she began to use this opportunity because she didn’t sympathize with her (because of the same unresolved problems, it seems to me that before discussing all Lapis just tolerated Pearl's presence) but at some point Pearl began to open up to her and secret gatherings began there, discussions of topics and the realization that in fact they had a lot in common and besides getting to know each other better, they will finally be able to discuss common problems! Pearl felt guilty for a lot and Lapis was on this list p.s. and I also think that fusion in their relationship is a taboo topic but this is my headcanon! I don't demand acceptance/understanding from you, I just tried to somehow expand the possibility of their communication!

[hunkpossession0]

**Found this personal trainer on Insta, I chatted a lil bit with him, and now I got his body. Poor him.**

It all started with a late-night scroll through Instagram. You know how it goes—one minute you’re just browsing, and the next, you’re sucked into the world of fitness models and personal trainers, each more jacked than the last. That’s when I found *him*.

This guy was perfection in human form. Towering height, muscles that looked like they were chiseled from stone, and a face that screamed confidence. The guy even rocked a thick, perfectly groomed mustache that somehow made him look even more masculine. His profile was full of workout tips, nutrition advice, and those motivational posts that usually make me roll my eyes. But something about him had me hooked.

“Man, if I had that body,” I muttered to myself, almost jokingly. But then the thought took hold. *What if*?

I shot him a DM, asking for some beginner tips—playing the part of the clueless newbie. To my surprise, he replied almost instantly, eager to help. We went back and forth for a bit, him giving advice and me pretending to be interested, while I worked on something far more… *ambitious*.

As we chatted, I tapped into an ability I’d been perfecting—a way to connect with someone on a deeper level. To reach out and *take* what was theirs. He had no idea that while he was busy explaining how to start on squats and deadlifts, I was making a connection that would change everything.

And then, with one final push, I felt it—the shift.

Suddenly, I wasn’t lounging on my bed anymore. I was standing in a gym, holding his phone in his hand, feeling the weight of his massive arms, the strength in his legs. I flexed one arm, watching as the muscles bulged, hard and defined, beneath the skin. My heart pounded with excitement and something else… an overwhelming sense of power.

I took a deep breath, my chest expanding with muscles that weren’t mine just a moment ago. I was in *his* body now, and damn, did it feel good. The thick mustache above my lip twitched as I grinned at my reflection in the mirror, marveling at how it suited this face, this body. I ran a hand over it, feeling the rough bristles that added an extra layer of ruggedness to this perfect form.

“Holy shit,” I whispered, my voice deep and resonant. *His* voice. My voice now.

My phone buzzed in my pocket—*his* pocket, I reminded myself—and I pulled it out to see a flood of missed notifications. But those could wait. The first thing I did was block my old account. Whoever was stuck in my former body wouldn’t be getting any help from me. They’d just have to deal with the shock of being… *me* now.

Meanwhile, across town, I could only imagine the horror and confusion on my former face as the realization hit. That once-comfortable body now felt alien, weak in comparison to what I had now. But I couldn’t waste time worrying about him—this was about me, about *living* in this body, and I intended to enjoy every second of it.

I turned back to the mirror, running my hands over my chest and abs, flexing just to watch the muscles ripple under the skin. God, I looked good. My new body felt hot, practically humming with energy, with a need I’d never felt before. The gym suddenly seemed smaller, like it couldn’t contain everything I was feeling.

An idea popped into my head, and I pulled out his phone again, quickly downloading Grindr. It didn’t take long to set up a profile—one of his shirtless pics as the main image, of course. The matches started rolling in almost immediately, the phone buzzing nonstop.

I couldn’t help but smirk at the screen. I shot a message to a couple of nearby guys, already knowing where this night was headed. The gym could wait—there were other ways to test out this body, and I was eager to explore *all* of them.

Back in that old, weak body, the poor guy was probably still staring at his reflection in disbelief, trying to figure out what had happened. But that was his problem now. I had bigger, better things to do—starting with enjoying every inch of this perfect new body. The thick mustache tickled my upper lip as I grinned wider, anticipation flooding my veins.

This is going to be fun.