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astrologydray · 2 months ago

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Ruler of the 12th through the houses

ruler of the 12th house through the houses, one of the most spiritually potent placements in the chart. The ruler of your 12th house shows where your deepest healing and spiritual evolution wants to unfold. This is the house of your spirit guides, hidden superpowers, and private battles.

12th House Ruler in the 1st House

You carry the unseen with you.

You’re intuitive, psychic, and sensitive AF. You may appear dreamy, ethereal, or mysterious — because you embody 12th house themes. Your subconscious is part of your identity. Gift: Healing presence, spiritual aura, psychic instincts. Identity confusion, absorbing others’ energy. “I walk between worlds.”

12th House Ruler in the 2nd House

You ground the spiritual into the material.

You may channel your intuition into building wealth, creating art, or healing others through touch and presence. You could inherit spiritual gifts or generational patterns around survival. Gift: Sacred sensuality, money magic, value-based intuition. Feeling unsafe to be seen or trust in abundance “I make the invisible, tangible.”

12th House Ruler in the 3rd House

You channel from the divine mind.

You may receive messages through dreams, downloads, or synchronicities. Writing, speaking, or teaching may be spiritually healing — but you may keep much of your voice hidden. Gift: Dreamy writer, intuitive communicator, psychic translator. Mental fog, confusion, or escapist thinking. “I speak what spirit whispers.”

12th House Ruler in the 4th House

Your roots hold your healing.

You may carry ancestral trauma — but also incredible generational gifts. Your inner world is deep, private, and spiritually charged. Home is a sacred temple or a portal for healing. Gift: Ancestral wisdom, deep emotional intuition. Emotional isolation, fear of being known. “My soul remembers where I came from.”

12th House Ruler in the 5th House

You create from the soul.

Your art, love life, and inner child are deeply connected to your spiritual path. You may be a secret romantic, or use creativity to process emotions you can’t express directly. Gift: Healing through art, sacred sexuality, divine play. Self-sabotage in love, fear of being fully seen. “I create to remember who I really am.”

12th House Ruler in the 6th House

You turn the sacred into ritual.

You have the power to channel divine energy into your daily life — whether through healing work, service, or wellness. Your body might reflect your spiritual/emotional state. Gift: Intuitive healer, spiritual discipline, energy worker. Illness linked to suppressed emotions, burnout. “My devotion is my medicine.”

12th House Ruler in the 7th House

Relationships are spiritual contracts.

You attract karmic partners — lovers or friends who help you awaken. You may lose yourself in others, or form soul bonds that force you to confront your subconscious wounds. Gift: Mirror healing, sacred union, emotional depth. Co-dependence, attracting unavailable or confusing partners. “Love teaches me how to heal myself.”

12th House Ruler in the 8th House

You are a shadow weaver.

You feel energy, emotions, and hidden truths deeply. Your spiritual work may involve death, trauma, sex, or psychology. You’re a natural mystic or medium. Gift: Deep psychic ability, power to transmute pain. Fear of your own power, emotional suppression. “I alchemize darkness into light.”

12th House Ruler in the 9th House

Your spirit seeks truth.

You’re drawn to mysticism, philosophy, and spiritual teachings. You may travel far (physically or mentally) to find yourself. Dreams and visions may be tied to past lives or higher knowledge. Gift: Spiritual teacher, cosmic explorer, wisdom-seeker. Escaping into ideas instead of healing emotion. “I remember through seeking.”

12th House Ruler in the 10th House

Your legacy is spiritual.

You may be called to do spiritual work publicly — or bring healing into leadership roles. You could have hidden talents that shape your career. Your reputation might come from what you’ve overcome. Gift: Public healer, creative mystic, compassionate leader. Fear of visibility, hiding your true calling. “My purpose is guided by something higher.”

12th House Ruler in the 11th House

You dream with the collective.

You’re tapped into the collective unconscious. You might manifest your dreams in quiet or indirect ways — or be part of online/spiritual communities that feel like home. Gift: Channel for collective energy, digital mystic, manifestor. Feeling disconnected or like an outsider. “My vision was planted in me for the future.”

12th House Ruler in the 12th House

You are the mystic.

You have strong psychic gifts, access to ancestral memory, and a deep spiritual life. You may crave solitude and need extra rest. Dreams, music, water, and art are sacred portals. Gift: Divine connection, healing presence, intuitive downloads. Isolation, victim mindset, hiding your magic. “I live between realms — and I came to heal.”

#astro notes #astrology #birth chart #astro observations #astro community #astrology observations #astrology community #astrology degrees #astro #astroblr #astrologyposts #astrology content #astrology insights #12th house

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a-continuous-cutting-motion · 2 years ago

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I went a-hiking today, on this hot, foggy summer morning, and and I saw hundreds of orb weaver webs in the bushes and trees, highlighted by the fog. It was beautiful in person how clearly defined the elegant shape of the web was. I also took some pictures too. The video shows the shape of the web pretty well.

#tw spiders #hiking #nature #orb weavers in the fog #i am not a good photographer #this is a shitty iphone camera #ourdoors #outdoors

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ghostonmainmoon · 1 month ago

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The Weaver

Ancient of Space, Weaver of Creation

I had this idea after literally going through her past posts (I literally went on a binge and read her entire masterlist) and just absolutely falling in love with her work @that-weird-thing-in-the-woods

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚ .⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊

Danny's home dimension is destroyed after the GIW decides to try and bomb the Infinite Realms while he is in the Far Frozen for medical help, along with Tucker. They were the only ones to survive the destruction of their planet. Sam didn't survive; She was out of town that day and couldn't go with them. (so no one was there to stop them from doing something stupid), the bombing failed horribly because the Realms sort of just threw it back at them.

The Infinite Realms place is sentient in a way and has its own will. It allowed the portal that initially killed Danny to be created just so she could have her adopted son.

Danny is the Realms Chosen and is practically her baby. There is a noticible difference in the Realms when Danny returns to it from vacation like everything changes.

So basically, Danny has become the Ancient of Space, Weaver of Creation, the Child of the Realms, Father of Stars and Moon, Keeper of the World Tree, Keeper of the Balance, Protector of the Forgotten, Son of Time, The Great One, etc.

He went through a very long period of depression as everything he knew was gone with only a handful still surviving as most didn't. The Ancients or more specifically CW decides enough is enough and he needs to get stuff done

Clockwork has taken over his education along with Frostbite and Pandora and was literally forced feed a shit ton of information about ghost culture, healing, understanding his powers, etiquette, etc.

Time and Space are very closely related but what people don't often remember that this also allows for creation. This is an aspect that Danny never thought would affect him much less become his main job.

Danny's existence is paradoxical in a way that still gets him confused as he is a constant where he existed as the Ancient of Space up until the point of his birth and when he had his accident and became a halfa once again he becomes a baby ghost with CW holding the reigns until he ascends as the Ancient Of Space Weaver of Creation.

Danny spends years creating new universes and creating galaxies upon galaxies, indulging in his obsession and occasionally going on vacations to explore the universes that he establishes -he's never traveled to the DC universe before, or he had a long time ago, like maybe during the Victorian era.

Danny weaves the future, past, and present of the many lives that will be, have been, and are. The Weaving of Creation takes up most of his time; he loves watching his creations blossom. He weaves the tapestry of creation which is later transcribed/ copied and bounded into a giant book that has the story of the entire multiverse in it. Danny as The Weaver his act of creation is reflected in the tree's branches and roots, representing the diverse realms and levels of existence. I want this to suggest that the universe is not just a collection of separate entities but a cohesive system with the Infinite Realms as the glue that holds the Multiverse together, and Danny acts as the orchestrator and the World Tree as his framework.

Taking care of the World Tree is also one of his duties it is the centrepiece of his haunts as his powers as the Weavers of Creation. It's the representation of his domain. His haunt is a mixture of a space-themed observatory with a library with the universes and galaxies used as the ceiling with the World Tree In the middle with marble/glass-looking floors that reflected the ceilings. His haunt is also a bitingly cold like that of space with fog always crawling and curling around furniture. This is also due to his ice core which plays an important role in how his haunt turned out it is also influenced by his teachers so like a Greek-inspired architecture with subtle frost patterns etc.

The creation of many of these universes and dimensions results in him gaining collections of books and other items that take up space in his library and occasionally the hallways or other rooms of his haunt as decorations

Dan, now Serelio after being reborn and reformed—alongside Ellie, now Eos—goes by Klarion as a pseudonym when he terrorizes the JL and YJ in the DC universe.

Serelio and Eos had been de-aged and incubated by Danny due to them destabilizing as. Dan was put into the body of a clone that survived, and he and Ellie are now twins and have ascended as ancients.

Tim was on a mission to find Bruce who was being dragged through time and ended up finding a lead to Batman's location or how to get him out of the Time Stream in one of the League of Assassins' bases, which he later destroyed after grabbing everything that wasn't nailed down and he could carry.

While on his way to Greece for a new clue, he struggles with his journey after losing his spleen and having to be extra careful with preventing illnesses, with Ra Al Ghul hot on his tail. He somehow finds a pool of Lazarus Water where he promptly gets corned and somehow falls towards it.

Tim is transported to a beautiful, ethereal place that looks like the galaxy had a baby with an observatory and a library and he wonders around until he comes across an ethereal being that is weaving a tapestry while leaning against a gigantic tree with a fur coat dropped over them with ice crystals within their halo head piece.

He tries to be sneaky and find a way out, but he ends up arriving back at the same piece. Danny knows he's there but chooses to keep a mindful eye on him, but otherwise leaves him be and doesn't prevent him from leaving this place, but it seems like CW has other plans.

Tim concludes that he needs to talk to this person who he could get help as he takes stock of his environment. or possibly broker a deal to get help with getting B out of the Time Stream. As he took a deep breath and stepped forward piercing blue eyes looked with star-speckled irises and his breath caught.

The soft ding of a grandfather clock could be heard resounding in the air as it seemed to reach the final second. As Clockwork gazed at the timeline, a soft hum left his lips: " All is as it should be."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊

I think I went a bit overboard, and I'm not sure if I made it coherent enough, but basically, Tim stumbles- but not really, as CW is basically meddling- upon Weaver of Creation Danny and strikes a deal to have him help with Bruce's predicament after CW time out and convinces Danny that this is one of the better solutions that doesn't end in the destruction of that universe.

Weaver of Creation, Danny is basically creating dimensions and other universes and just leaves them to grow and develop on their own, and records their history and checks on their development, giving a little nudge if it seems like they will do something to end up killing themselves off before their time.

ClockWork and Danny can use some aspects of each other's powers, as Time and Space are needed to balance each other out.

IDK what else to write, I'll probably edit it a bit later on. This was inspired by the lovely @that-weird-thing-in-the-woods blog after reading Frostbite's Child, Ancient of Space, Void & Prism.

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scribblestatic · 3 months ago

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Since this is now the third post of Spider Shen Yuan, I'll make a masterpost for it. It'll be linked at the end.

Also, fun fact I just found out, but the word for spider in Chinese is 蜘蛛 (Zhī zhū), and, as you know, Shen Yuan's title (given to him) is Lulin Zhizhu (绿林之主 - lǜlín zhī zhǔ - Lord of the Green Forest).

And, like, I know they're two different words because zhū and zhǔ aren't the same. But also, I chose to use Zhīzhǔ because it's close to Shizun (师尊 - Shī zūn), both of which mean master, though Shizun is teacher-master and Zhizhu is lord-master, the latter of which, when using a different word, is also Zhizhu (spider).

FUCK I'm good. Coincidences are on my side on this one.

...Also, if they were to mispronounce his title, he could also be Pearl/Bead of the Green Forest (綠林之珠 - Lùlín Zhīzhū), which I think is cute.

---

The demoness does not take kindly to one of her guards being killed.

In retaliation, she demands that the demon guards use their full power to capture and imprison him.

However, Shen Yuan has not been living and growing for...who knows how many years...without preparing for eventually finding himself in a battle with more intelligent beings than the typical monster.

Using his legs as toothpicks, he stabs each little morsel she sends his way, setting some aside as his little minion spiders wrapped them up to eat later and eating others immediately.

His carapace is quite strong, and his eyes, though lidless, aren't mere weak points some game character could mash until he was destroyed. He has near 360 degree vision with almost blind spots unless he just really isn't paying attention. And since he's paying attention, he makes sure that, even if they haven't hit him yet, he sprays webs to disable the more spiritually-inclined demons staying further back.

When a stronger one approaches, he scuttles out of range, large but extremely mobile. After all, he's covered his entire neck of the woods in his webs, whether visible or nearly imperceivable to the naked human (or demon) eye.

He started as an orb weaver, but over the years, he's adapted to different styles of webs. It's a requirement of the strong to adapt to their surroundings, after all.

Eventually, most of the guards are reduced to little web-covered bags, wriggling futilely to escape, and the demoness, with a few remaining soldiers, cowers as her continued orders start to sputter out.

With a few calculated maneuvers, he causes the presence of the humans to slip from their minds, eventually concealing them in a corner with protective webs. So, even if it occurred to any of them to attempt to use human hostages, they were now out of sight. And taking their eyes off the very real threat in front of them was incredibly unwise, anyway.

Webs thicken. Bodies hang in strong, thick, grey sacks. Little spiders with even smaller legs team together, following under a single spider's orders.

Shen Yuan strategically spins something between a funnel and a sheet web, trapping the remaining demons within. Fire-retardant as his webs are, even trying to burn them proves futile.

The demoness, her guard captain, and the last three demon guards watch in visible terror, squirming deliciously. He's used quite a bit of silk, so he's feeling hungry. Watching them twitch tickles a little part in his brain that says he should bundle them up, nice and tight...

Would he eat them now? Or, perhaps, he should save them for later. Little morsels, qi and blood thrumming through their veins, physical and spiritual.

He lowers himself into the funnel he made, his limbs stretching out, reaching for them.

Surely, they will be—

"...T...There once was a demon..."

Shen Yuan stops suddenly, his legs twitching.

The guard general clears his throat.

"There once was a demon, long ago, who fell in love with a human. A cultivator."

Oh. A story.

Yes.

Yes, Shen Yuan likes stories.

Clearing the hungering fog from his mind, he pulls back, limbs curling in as he watches intently. Listening.

The demon general tells the story of the ill-fated demon and their love for a cultivator. By all intents and purposes, it seemed it was destined to be one-sided.

However, when the cultivator discovers the demon, it turns out she recognizes him. The demon in the story had once saved the human cultivator, and, desiring power, she pursued cultivation so she could stand side-by-side with the demon one day.

They spent many centuries together. But then, the cultivator was made into a god. Drawn up to the celestial realm, the cultivator left the demon behind, and the demon cried out in anguish.

Hatred stewed in the demon's heart over the cultivator's broken promise, and he shot up toward the heavens, ripping into the celestial realm, even as the spiritual qi poisoned him. He ripped and tore through heavenly beings and gods alike, finally coming face-to-face with the goddess that abandoned him.

However, the demon, who still loved the goddess despite it all, could not bring himself to kill her. So, he jumped down from the celestial realm, returning to the demon realm.

Having spent so much time killing gods and spiritual creatures, he was forever altered by the experience. Spiritual qi polluted his body, but he adapted to it, having spent so much time with the cultivator and learning her ways. Determined to not die from qi poisoning, he circulated the spiritual qi and demonic qi, meshing them until it became his own.

Thus, he became the first Heavenly Demon. A demon not even the gods could deny.

That phrase...ah.

Ah, yes. He's heard that term before. From the story he couldn't forget.

Something about this story, about the origin of heavenly demons, didn't sound quite right. A little nigging at the back of his mind. But now wasn't the time to ponder on that too much.

"Hmm... A very interesting story. Of promises broken and power gained. From where did you hear such a tale?"

"My...mother. Used to tell this one of the story," the general stiltedly replies.

"Is it accurate?"

"As far as he knows."

"Very good. This spider very much liked it."

He crawls up higher and begins tearing into the makeshift funnel. Other smaller spiders also begin to tear it apart, unraveling it enough in one spot that something of a door split open in the thick weaving.

"He shall let this group of demons go as thanks for the quality and depth of the story."

But, as the guard captain begins to bow, the little demon princess speaks up, her voice shaking.

"Wait! You! You said you'd make a dress for Li-er!"

Shen Yuan tilts his body, much like one would tilt their head.

"The miss seems to misunderstand. This spider has decided to show her and the remainder of her entourage grace for the quality of the story told to him. However, the story was not only told by the guard captain, but it served as repayment. The story was an expense owed, not one given in return for something else."

He lowers himself closer to the ground, hanging lazily by a single gleaming thread, what little wounds he had already closed and scarred over. The other spiders move around, once again revealing the sky, which has grown naturally dark. The moonlight shines off his round, focused eyes.

"The miss told a story when she arrived. A hateful little tale. About how I, the one recognized as lord of the forest he helped grow, had committed a slight against a nameless little demoness for bestowing gifts upon those who asked for them appropriately. This little miss threatened me, in my domain, with slavery and servitude, to be treated as little more than a slavering beast good only for the produce of its body."

His fangs flex, and she steps back.

"And so, this spider was slighted. Severely. And in return, this spider began to take. And take. And take some more. To take what was owed to me, with due interest."

The withered body of Shen Yuan's first victim lies crumpled on the ground.

"This spider was merely rectifying your sin."

The guard captain extends an arm in front of the lady, but he keeps his gaze low, not daring to look him directly in the eyes.

"...But this guard was wise. He paid this spider with a marvelous story that appeased this one very much. And so, not only has this one decided to let him live, but he's decided to let the little miss and the rest of her guards live as well. A steal, one could say. Five, for the price of one."

He chuckles, light, airy, and rumbling all the same.

"Tell this lord, guard captain. Has this one not been quite magnanimous?"

The captain swallowed thickly, then he lowered himself to one knee. The remaining guards, the ones not bleeding out or cocooned, swiftly followed suit, smelling deliciously of tears, sweat, fear, and salt.

"The Great Spider has been most gracious to us. We thank him for his mercy."

"See," Shen Yuan says, fangs flexing in a poor mockery of a smile. "He understands well."

The little demon princess looks around her, seeming to finally get out of her head and understand what she was dealing with. Her fingers then clutch into her dress, nearly ripping it with her nails... But she slowly lets go, then tucks her hands into her sleeves as she gives a slight bow.

"...Li-er...understands. Thanking this...the Great Spider...for his guidance."

"Hmmh."

Shen Yuan starts losing interest quite quickly. Ruoxing and Miyun are still hiding behind the web he made for them, and with it being dark, they need to head home soon. It's past time to wrap this up.

"This one is a bit surprised this has all turned out the way it has. No demon has been so disrespectful toward me in quite some time. Though, this one supposes, if he knows not your name or title, he shan't expect you to know his. But worry not, worry not. Tis now water under the bridge.

"Though, it is quite late now... Since you no longer owe this spider your lives, perhaps we can barter on much better terms now."

"What would you ask of us, Great Spider?" the guard captain asks.

"The humans you brought with you. Return them to their village. They've garnered this spider's favor, so he shan't tolerate any harm coming to them. This forest can be quite thick and treacherous at night."

"And...in return?"

"The miss shall have her dress."

See? Isn't he so kind?

Miyun won't have to go back home, being led by spiders she's clearly terrified of judging by how she's kept her eyes quite firmly shut for the last few minutes. Ruoxing can show his superiority by helping her get home, even after being attacked by demons. And the little demon princess can have the dress she wanted! Everyone ends up happy.

"...How long should we wait for the dress, if this lowly one may ask?"

"Oh, it should be done by the time you return tonight. This spider wouldn't imagine you all being welcome to rest amongst the humans after such a debacle."

The guard captain doesn't reply, instead looking toward the demon princess. She purses her lips, but eventually, she responds.

"Then, Li-er shall guide the humans home and return. Does the Great Spider need this one's measurements?"

"No. This one has had quite enough time looking at you to acquire them."

Her lip twitch as some indignation returns to her expression. "Should Li-er take this as an expression of lechery?"

"Not at all. Doesn't the young miss also marvel at her food before consuming it?"

As though remembering she was, indeed, almost eaten, she finally shuts right up.

The demons do, indeed, return Miyun and Ruoxing home without incident. Perhaps it was because he had his little helpers trail them the entire time, waiting for even a single slip-up or twitch toward taking their anger out on them. Thankfully, they've lost enough lives that day and don't intend to lose any more.

When they return, as promised, Shen Yuan presents the demon princess with a qixiong ruqun, using yellow and other pastels to complement her pink skin (he's been getting into dyes more recently, and he has the fruit to do it). She is immediately enamored by it, but her gaze trails to the webs and the splatters of blood on the ground, and any overt excitement is immediately quenched.

Shen Yuan doesn't feel bad for her, not really. He does feel some sympathy, but lacks any empathy for her situation. If she'd simply come and told a story for her dress, no blood would've had to been spilled, and no lives would've had to be lost.

The dress, which could've simply been paid for with a story, was paid for in blood that wasn't her own. And she would have to face any ire from demons whose family members failed to return due to her own foolishness.

After showing them to the other route, the one that doesn't pass by the village (the one where he's greeted the occasional passing demon), he sends them on their way.

He doesn't expect to see them again, but the little demon princess comes back to commission more clothing, approaching the demon route entrance to his general domain. And this time, she comes with stories.

He comes to learn her name, Xu Meili (许美丽 - Xǔ Měilì). She's the fourth daughter of some demon general serving a higher lord, but she's basically the equivalent of some human noble, not that Shen Yuan would say that.

Apparently, upon seeing him, they were under the impression he really was just some beast, unaware he was Lulin Zhizhu.

Demons were generally seen as more respectable if they had a more bipedal, humanoid appearance. After all, many weaker demons would cultivate for centuries just to acquire a human form, from huli jing to demonic plants. The fact Shen Yuan still wore a quite monstrous appearance would fool most supposedly decent demons into thinking him a mindless creature.

It also didn't help that, although Lulin Zhizhu was known in little whispers around certain demon communities, for him to be worshiped as a god by humans, they thought he would surely have a human form.

Though, as Xu Meili explained with trepidation, she wasn't using that as an excuse, but merely explaining what she'd thought. That, Shen Yuan could appreciate. As long as she learned her lesson and didn't waste anyone else's lives with her misunderstandings.

Speaking with her, the demon guard general, and other visiting demons helped him immensely. Their stories, while often more bloody and teeming with resentment, were just as pleasing, if not sometimes more so. When he was in a particularly vindictive mood, a demon's story often settled better than something lighter, more forgiving, and human.

He also gained better insight into demon culture... And the fact demons weren't exactly sure how to categorize him. His qi wasn't exactly spiritual, but it wasn't exactly demonic either. In fact, it was that strange mixture of qi that led the demon guard captain to tell the story about heavenly demons.

He was under the impression the spider perhaps was one.

Unsure whether to confirm or deny, Shen Yuan didn't do either. After all, he was pretty sure he wasn't a heavenly demon, but honestly? He didn't know.

So, he'd let the rumor mill roll on that one. Not that he left his forest anyway. Never really saw a reason to get out much when the spiritual and demonic beasts trailing through the forest were plenty enough to fill his stomach. He also had visiting villagers and demons to sate his desire for knowledge. Being a homebody suited him just fine.

Han Miyun (韩蜜韫 - Hán Mìyùn) couldn't quite shake her fear of spiders, so she didn't come back to see him. That being said, it wasn't as though she wasn't grateful. Ruoxing came to visit several times after, seeming even more chummy with Shen Yuan than before, carrying baskets full of mantou and a scroll with a story she wanted to tell him.

When he asked what she wanted of him, Ruoxing said she wanted nothing, and it was simply a gift.

Feeling uncomfortable receiving something without giving in return, he sent Ruoxing back with fruit and qi-infused grass.

This apparently set off a give-a-thon, as Ruoxing swiftly became a willing pack mule between Miyun and Shen Yuan.

"You know, Zhizhu, perhaps you could come out of the forest and visit," Ruoxing hums one day.

Although Shen Yuan's cephalothorax doesn't lend well to expressions, apparently, he had a *look* in his eyes that made the young man fall over laughing.

"You don't have to reject it so strongly! I understand, I understand!"

"This one didn't say anything."

"Forgive me for being impudent, but, Zhizhu, you looked like a cat facing the sea just now."

Listen, it wasn't that Shen Yuan hated the idea of leaving the forest, okay? He simply liked where he was, surrounded by little spider servants that benefited from the fruits of his prior labor and served him in return. He had food, shelter, and visitors. What more could he want?

Traveling to new places...did kinda sound nice But then who would be there to exchange food for storieeessss the spiders could do that. They could. The little ones could possibly take written works and exchange them for other items, like silk, clothes, leather, or whatever else was available.

But still, he could've very well trudge around in his big spider body. That was just begging for every cultivator under the Sun to try to exorcise him or something. He'd have to cultivate a humanoid form. And he...

Did not...really want to?

Mmh.

For some reason, whenever he thinks of a humanoid body... More accurately, of himself within a humanoid body, he thinks of a compressed chest. Of weak limbs. Of heavy breathing, white walls, and monotonous beeping.

He thinks of breaking out in rashes from poor air conditions. Of laying on the floor in a porcelain room, trying to absorb the coolness to combat the heat ravaging his body. Of using some sort of device to support a weakened left leg because his heart wouldn't work right...

Yes. A humanoid body would surely be uncomfortable.

If that meant he had to stay right where he was, so be it.

Time passes like that, with demons becoming more frequent visitors on their side and the humans doing what they've always done.

The spiders, although still smaller and with lesser power than he has, seem to be developing more thoughts of their own. Although utterly loyal to him, they also begin acting on their on imperative if he hasn't given them any orders.

One of his older servants, a jumping spider, seemed to take on something of a managerial role. After molting several times, growing larger, and gaining more intelligence, she began collecting stories and making exchanges based on previous examples of his habits.

As it turned out, she had developed a demon core already? Well, it wasn't quite a demon core. She had mostly spiritual qi instead of demonic qi, so she was more suitable for communing with humans.

It seemed that, due to the very instinctual drives they had, coupled with typically being reviled by humans, developing to such an extent was a rarity (of course, that meant Shen Yuan was an outright cryptid).

Through some quiet understanding between them, Shen Yuan ended up naming her. She seemed to accept the name Zhuzi (珠子 - Zhūzǐ - Little Pearl) well enough.

She's rather helpful, especially when someone arrives with a story but he's already occupied with someone else. It doesn't happen often, but with both humans and demons now associating with him more frequently, as infrequently as that can be, having someone else help does wonders.

Fan Zhenzhen visits from time to time, sometimes to tell stories, other times to simply be around him. Sometimes, she'll ask questions about a plant, animal, or some other thing she's seen or heard of.

Of course, Shen Yuan doesn't mind simply sharing knowledge. With all the fantastical creatures in the world, he's quite charmed by them, so talking about them is time well spent. Especially for someone like him, who is simply a spider and doesn't have a job.

As she grows older, she comes to visit a bit less. A little disheartening, yes, but he understands. It makes the times he does see her all the more meaningful.

Fan Ruoxing grows older, and eventually, he marries Han Miyun. He arrives the day before his wedding and gives him a cup of sweetened black tea. It's so small, it's barely anything to him. It tastes fantastic regardless. Shen Yuan sends him off with a wedding gift basket of fresh vegetables, spices, and a poncho shawl to match Miyun's.

On the day-of, Shen Yuan sits in his cave, feeling a bit unsettled.

It's not like he really wants to be down in the village. He likes his quiet, relative solitude. Moreover, what human would want a huge spider at their wedding with their arachnophobic wife? He'd be nothing but a disturbance.

Zhuzi, who ventured out with her smaller, less conspicuous body, watched the wedding from the nearby tree line. He silently gave her more Thrice-Bloomed Yuzu after she relayed the festivities to him.

She did the same thing when Fan Ruoxing's first daughter came into the world.

100 days later, he, Miyun, and Meixiu (美宿 - Měixiù) came to visit, although Miyun was never once able to look up. Even still, after telling him a story, Shen Yuan blesses their child, hoping that her life is as bright and plentiful as the 'beautiful constellations' in the night sky.

He also gives them some of the same yuzu he would give Zhuzi, though he directs them to dilute it. After all, it's very qi-rich and could be a bit much for her developing spiritual veins. Fan Meixiu had the spiritual strength and potential to become a cultivator, after all.

A year and a few months later, and they visit with their second and third children, twins. Qinglian (轻莲 - Qīnglián) and Jiahao (家豪 - Jiāháo) didn't quite have the same spiritual potential, but Shen Yuan wished they would lead meaningful, fruitful lives nevertheless.

With more mouths to feed and more care to give, visits to him become less frequent. Again, quite disappointing, but to be expected.

The same goes for the little demon princess, Xu Meili. Some demon politics and intrigue take up more of her time, and despite being one of nine children, the fourth daughter, eighth out of the nine, she was the one who apparently found the most auspicious husband. This was, according to her, partially due to her many spider silk clothes.

Since she was going quite far away to be with her husband, future correspondence would dwindle. But she does, in that rough tone of hers that she could never quite get rid of, tell him that he would be welcome if he ever decided to step out of his "resplendent hovel".

And so, for the first time in years, Shen Yuan finds himself without his typical visitors.

And he feels alone.

...hmmh.

Maybe cultivating a humanoid body wouldn't be the worst thing to do.

----

For future parts, see the Masterpost (´▽`ʃ♡��)

Masterpost

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3: here

#static writes #dp writes #spider shen yuan #svsss #svsss au #shen yuan #continuing to creaturify the boy #au post 3

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horifficspider · 12 days ago

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Your dimension that bad?

Why are so many of you spider-people friendly?

#fog weaver of nyc

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ghostarii · 10 months ago

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SILK STRINGS & PEARL RINGS, SCARAMOUCHE

ʚɞ kisses with the weight of pain and bruises colored like love — his heart hits like a punch and you’re the sucker to catch it.

WARNINGS ݈݇- fem!reader, referred to as kuni, impact play, asphyxiation, biting / marking, hair pulling, degradation, name calling, praise, creampie, overstimulation, more scaramouche than wanderer, minors & dc antis do not interact!

NOTE ݈݇- hey . . hey . . how y’all doin ^w^ ive been gone a while becuz tumblr wasnt it anymore nd life was lifeing ! am back now bc i missed u guys nd missed being a freak :c theres sm of u now — thank u sm for 900+! ! i loveee youu loads xoxoxooo Anywayyy i hope u enjoy this quick littl drabble to flex my muscles :3

WORD COUNT ݈݇- 1.1k

LIMBS LIKE STRINGS OF silk: soft, pliable, and delicate, all in the hands of an unworthy sinner. His rough callouses rub burning patches on your skin as he runs his hands across your supple skin. Even the finest silks blemish under unclean hands and you are no exception — you're the example.

The name he bears stumbles out of your mouth in broken gasps and he only wishes you would shut up; he tells you again and again in hopes of your compliance, to no avail. Your voice is a constant reminder of who he is to you and, otherwise, who he’s destroying for superficial, fleeting pleasure. He’s far too deep to pull away now and scurry away—he has no choice but to double down and bump the sense out of your brain in hopes of fogging your memory. It works in a skewed way: condensing your mind to the two syllables of his name. “Kuni! Kun—i!! God, Kuni—!!!” Your pitiful screeches play on broken recurrences.

And as the master weaver he is, your pleasure is sewn up to its peak for what feels like the millionth time. Your body quakes and trembles, quivering under his weight and attempting an escape jaggedly. A hearty, choked-up whine jumps out of your chest, “Sto—I can’t! K-Kuni, please—!”

Deaf ears ignore your cries and pound deeper, harder—slamming his pelvic bone against your twitching clit. His hands move from the expanse of the mattress to your neck: pressing you into the mattress with pressure on the sides of your neck just right. “Shut the fuck up,” he grits, rolling his hips into you. “Just shut up and take it.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, lashes fluttering rapidly as, quickly, your brain computes nothing but pleasure.

His hips snap against you with such intensity, that it makes you feel like he hates you. It borders on painful, eliciting sharp lightning rods to pierce and prod around your body. The sheer weight of this impassioned thrusting has you jolting up the bed and thrashing around under him, looking to escape the white-hot harvest of pleasure pulsing in your pussy.

On top of you, he burns a pretty rose that can only be described as fire. The tight grip around his cock fills his head with foggy air—but it's the wetness that spools around his length: splat, splat, splat, that sings out the lost orgasms from rounds previous and ample arousal. It’s that that has him grumbling out blurbs of pleasure, chasing his orgasm that rests in your depths.

Every sensation is heightened tenfold with the ever-demanding charge that is being fed in your tummies. Every pulse, squeeze, leak, prod—all of it is akin to plugging you up to an orgasm charge-port and capping off the battery.

It’s too much; you scream that out enough until you can't gather enough air to breathe, let alone speak. Kuni agrees with you but he really, really, wishes you would shut up. He can't think and with every sound you make, he’s urged on in this unshakeable, carnivorous desperation to fuck harder. He's not immune to pleasure; he may be more susceptible to its threats, in fact. Knitted brows and screwed eyes blind him to the overstimulated writhing you enact, wriggling under his touch in vain hopes of reprieve.

Tears stream down your cheeks to mix with a layer of slobber splayed on your skin—a pitifully nasty mess, born out of the relentless palms of your man. He has the liberty to see you at your most vulnerable: degeneracy painting itself all over your body. A beautifully disgusting mess, you are, and he only makes it worse.

Stirring around your guts is his angry hard-on, circling your walls in shaky rolling manners, letting you both rest against the other and heave out deep breaths. The tip grinds against your g-spot and has you whimpering weakly, slapping his forearms and rolling your stomach. “I’m gonna—”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He grits, grabbing a fistful of hair and tugging your head to the left. The stinging burn that dances at your roots has you wincing and whining, scrunching your face up. “Hold it.”

“I c-can’t, Kuni!” Just as the words leave your mouth, his hips are re-angled to push up into your pussy, the right-bound hook he sports curving right up to a gummy cushion in your walls. They contract around him and he groans, tightening his grip on your hair.

He dives into you, letting his hands grip your waist as his head wedges itself between your chin and shoulder. “Get it through your thick fucking skull,” he berates, nipping your collarbone. “You can't cum until I say so,”

His hips grind upward, drilling his dick deep into your depths that the hoarseness in your voice is shaken off for a shrill yelp to be squeezed out. He laughs at you menacingly, sinking his teeth into your shoulder to then circle the mark with his tongue. “Take it like a good bitch and I may be nice to you.”

Not a word he said will be upheld. You're so good—the best girl for him and he still dangles your release in front of you. Like a dog to a thick bone, you pant and whine in anticipation of being thrown your Achilles heel.

Exhaustion catches up to him and he can only lazily rock into you. His left hand presses on your stomach as he does so, trapping pressure in your tummy and mixing deliciously with your pleasure.

Heat swims beneath your skin and spills out beads of perspiration, gluing your bodies together.

Proximity; your bodies are so close and burning up fervent flames that swallow you down. Like the pliable silk you are, you slip around under his hold and that knot your stomach is tied up in easily unwinds.

“You’re coming, aren't you?” He shakily asks, exhaling deeply. If you aren't, he is.

Your non-answer is answer enough—he moans pathetically in your ear, falling apart as he ruts into you.

Holding on is a thing of the past as he slams against your sweet spot, unfurling his orgasm into you in milky ropes. Simultaneously, you release your biggest orgasm yet, splashing against his stomach and streaming down your legs. The pressure pushes him out with a grunt, a sadistic laugh of his echoing in your head.

Your swollen pussy is shining in pearlescent, bubbled strings, rolling out of you in a gushing mix. Oh, it's nasty; and you're utterly destroyed—flushed and blemished and patterned in bites, bruises, and prints. Your lips are swollen and bitten; your eyes are low-lidded and teary; your face is sweaty and tear-stained; your body quivers and spasms and Kuni thinks that you've never looked better.

Reprieve only lasts a mere moment before your legs are pushed up to your shoulders, spreading and stretching your limbs to their limits. Drawing out a whine, you speak hoarsely, “What’re you doing? No more..”

“I never told you to cum, did I?”

A break quickly becomes a distant memory.

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ghouliebabies-art · 1 year ago

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“Weave us of mist, Fog Weaver” ✨💜

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saintsanddevils · 3 months ago

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Weaver of Fate

Liam Mairi x Fem!Reader

Summary: No matter how long it’s been, every part of you mourns Liam. You can’t let him go. With the help of your signet, you rewrite his fate. But at what cost?

Warnings: angst, grief, mentions of death & blood, eventual happy ending

Author’s Note: I think this can be seen as an alternate universe to my “Unravel Me” fic

Word Count: 2.8K

Posted on AO3

Masterlist

Fog envelops my steps as I walk across charred earth. The chill of the night clings to my cloak. It’s quiet, a stillness settling over the field where hours earlier, it was complete chaos.

Sulfur and ash still fill the air of Athebyne. Rot and the coppery smell of blood cling to me as I force myself to not look at the destroyed city. Sharp memories from hours ago hit me like a tidal wave. The roaring of dragons. The palpable panic coursing through our squad as Xaden barked orders. Violet’s lightning cracking across the sky. Cloaked Venin swarming the city. The screams of Athebyne’s citizens.

The echo of their cries is still here, haunting every step I take as I turn away from the city. I’m not here for Athebyne. I don’t wish to relive what will surely bring me nightmares for years to come. No. I stay as far from the city as I can.

Instead, I go to the last place I wish to be.

The earth here is stained in crimson, scorched by dragon fire. A strange sense of dreadful awareness fills me as I stare at the ground.

This is where Liam Mairi died.

Where I watched him choke on his last breaths, clinging to the red scales of his dragon, Deigh, before death finally came for him. Seconds away from entering the afterlife and he still had a smile rivaling the brightness of the sun.

That’s who Liam was. He was the light of a new dawn, the feel of fresh dew on grass, the racing of a pulse. He was the embodiment of life.

How cruel to die so young, fight a war he never should be apart of. He was the best of us. He is the best of us.

Flashes of stolen kisses in corridors, hands clasped tightly, and whispered affections plague my mind.

“We’ll be together again, in the next life.”

I flinch at the memory of his breath on my lips. His hands losing their grip on me as his eyes dimmed, his soul fading.

“I wish we had more time.” I choked through my sobs, clinging to him, begging every god who could hear me to let him stay.

Liam had only given me a soft smile. The sort of smile he only reserved for those early mornings when we awoke in one another’s arms. It was full of something so hopeful and soothing, it stabbed my gut like a jagged knife to see it when he lay dying.

“Death cannot stop me from seeing you again,” he gave me a swift, soft kiss. It burned my lips. “I will always love you.”

The burning behind my eyes is unavoidable now as tears stream down my cheeks, dripping to the dirt stained by his blood. My eyes are swollen from hours of crying and I’m shocked to find I still have tears to spare.

I don’t have time to cry. I only have a few hours to get this right.

Kneeling to the ground, I lay my hands atop the bloodied soil, closing my eyes. Breathing deep and slow, I open the door to the power lying in wait beneath my skin.

I’ve never done this before. It’s new and desperate of me, but I have to try.

Hope clings to me like a second skin as I breathe, in and out, concentrating on the feel of the earth beneath my skin.

My signet is healing, but something crawls beneath my skin that is not of this world. Every time I heal and mend, the power hungers for something more. I feared, for a long time, this was something pulling me to become Venin. Something that takes and takes, wreaking havoc and stealing life. But it only occurred to me after Liam’s death that it wasn’t anything like that. It wasn’t a hunger for power, but a sense of not reaching my full potential. Like having a set of keys and a locked door before me. I only need to find which key will open the door.

Taking a vial from my pocket, I don’t look as I coat my hands in the substance within. It feels grainy and powdery. I know without looking it’s dark, coating and staining the skin of my palms.

It’s the ashes of Liam’s body.

After his death, his body was brought back to Tyrrendor after the battle and stacked upon a pyre. He was burned, as is custom, and I can still feel the cloying smell of burned flesh choking the air. I had stood there for hours until the flames were mere cinders and his body was nothing but ash.

Every second since his death, I’ve become a ghost. There’s a pain that lingers, hanging between my ribs, that sharpens and intensifies with every breath. The idea of continuing this life without him tortures me. After all the love he’s given me. Every smile, every touch, it was all stolen by time.

I don’t know what made me do it. Something clicked inside of me as I watched the flames of his pyre. An instinct I trusted immediately as a plan slowly began to form. When Xaden finally left my side and I was left alone, I bolted forward, grasping an empty vial from my jacket and filling it to the brim with his ashes.

That was an hour ago.

Now, I’m holding on to every instinct I’ve been following since his death. Concentrating on the ash coating my hands, I pour everything, every ounce of my power, into the earth. I’ve always imagined my healing signet to be a tapestry of golden threads, weaving the body to mend at my will. Now, I see traces of withered, dead strands in my minds-eye, lying in wait as the golden threads of my power reach for them.

Pain pricks up my spine as my power extends, those golden threads stretching as far as they can. My pulse beats heavily in my blood, breaths heaving from my lungs as I push myself to the limit. Burnout isn’t an option.

Like the snap of broken rope, I’m untethered, my power sparking from my fingertips as I fall to the ground, heaving. Gasping breaths, I finally open my eyes, staring at the blood-stained dirt beneath my splayed fingers.

It didn’t work.

I try again. The dirt caking under my fingernails as I dig deep. I pour myself into my power, straining to catch anything that will reach back.

Nothing.

I shake my hands out, flexing the muscles and tendons, and do it again.

Nothing.

It’s not fucking working.

Rage slowly rises, burning like acid in my stomach as I let every frustration, every ounce of bitterness, consume me.

A scream escapes my lips. And another. Until I’m left screaming and heaving in the dirt.

I scream and scream and scream.

It’s hoarse and echoes through the valley. I sense my dragon’s distress, but I block them out. I need to stay focused.

I can’t let Liam go. I won’t let him go. Never again will he be separated from me. In this life or any other.

This time, once my voice lets the last of my frustration die in my throat, making it rough and hard to swallow, I close my eyes and picture Liam. Every dip and curve of his face. Every freckle, mole, scar, and dimple. Muscles lining his arms, his relic tattoo stark against the skin of his arm and collarbone. The way his hair gilded the sky in the afternoon sun. His infectious laugh. How his teasing and flirting were intoxicating and thrilling. His attention a drug as his crystal blue eyes would trace me, holding me captive.

Warmth seeps into my bones as I grip the dirt, desperately. I cling to every memory I have of him. Every trace of life within him, pulling him back to me, like an anchor.

The memory of his smile, so carefree and brilliant. The way he lit up the darkest parts of me with every tilt of his lips, his eyes glittering with mischief. I always felt privileged to be able to see him smile at me so freely. It was always there for the taking and he gave them to me without ever holding back.

The memory of his hands clasping my hips for the first time, adjusting my stance on the mat during training. How a blush rose to both our cheeks when our eyes met. His flirtatious smile consuming his face, brightening the world with it.

The memory of the first time he cornered me in the hall, longing and desperation clinging to him as he confessed how much he wanted me. How much he needed me in his life as more than a friend. I remember returning his affections with a soft kiss that had him easily confessing how much he loved me. My laugh echoed in the hall before his own joined mine.

Every memory of his lips against mine, soft and searching, insistent and desperate, strong and sure. Even our last kiss, the morning before we left for Athebyne, where he kissed every inch of my skin until I was blushing and swollen with them. His tongue tracing my collarbone before whispering sweet nothings into my skin, sending goosebumps down my body.

The feel of his hand in mine is the last memory that keeps me centered and focus. The way his palm slid against mine, fitting entirely too well to not call it fate. To not call what lay between us a form of love so true and destined, it felt like breathing.

“Death cannot stop me from seeing you again. I will always love you.”

And just like that, I breathe. I breathe long and slow, letting my memories consume me, carry me, guide me.

With every memory, every brush of his presence in my minds-eye, the glittering golden threads of my power slowly begin weave together. I’m so lost in the depths of my mind, clinging to the lingering imprints of Liam, that I don’t notice the spark.

I open my eyes, gasping as I see light shining from beneath my palms. It’s a wondrous sight, something I can’t look away from. And I feel…. I feel the soul of the earth, the roots far below, responding to my touch as something beats beneath my skin. A steady rhythm.

Almost like a heartbeat.

I’m doing it. I’m doing it!

I can’t help but inflate with hope, smiling at the strangeness of my power as it buries further and further until I feel every rock and blade of grass around me.

A sudden flare of blinding light, chaotic and bright, breaks across the field from beneath my palms, stealing the last of my energy, before I fall to the dirt like a puppet cut from their strings, darkness clouding my vision.

The last thing I sense, before I let the darkness wash over me, is a slow heartbeat and a firm chest beneath my hands.

———

I wake to the sound of my name. It’s desperate and unsure, breathless and hopeful. Rough, shaking hands hold me, arms firm around my body as those hands cradle my face. My eyes blink slowly until I’m staring up at a predawn sky, the night and stars disappearing as the sun slowly rises in the distance.

It takes a moment for me to remember someone is holding me. That I’m not alone.

I jolt when my eyes lock on blue ones.

“Liam?” I choke, voice hoarse.

He smiles, tears in his eyes as he stares down at me, holding me closer. “It’s me.”

My hands shoot out, tentatively touching his cheek, his nose, his jaw. He closes his eyes at my touch, leaning into it. My heart soars as I feel his skin, warm and full of life. The smell of him washes over me, so familiar I breathe it in greedily. I leap from his hold, wanting to get closer to it, to him. I wrap my arms around his neck, grasping on to him as a sob tears from my chest. Liam holds me just as tight, arms banding around me, as if reassuring me that he’s really here. Maybe even reassuring himself.

“How?” He whispers against my hair.

I shake my head, never leaving the comfort of his chest as I bury myself in him.

“I couldn’t do it,” I whisper. “I couldn’t let you go. I knew I could bring you back, so… I did.”

Liam pulls away, his fingers tilting my chin up to meet his eyes. It’s still dark, but the small traces of dawn light his eyes a calming blue that reminds me of the sea in sunlight. Glittering and beautiful. It’s so familiar, the ache in my chest slowly ebbs.

“You brought me back?” His whisper is uncertain, but his face tells me everything. It’s as familiar as my own. The way his eyes hold traces of hope and longing.

I smile brilliantly up at him. “Death can’t keep us apart.”

A breath escapes parted lips before he surges forward. His lips find mine and nothing about this kiss is soft. It’s desperate, like clinging to life with bare hands, trying to keep oneself from leaving this world and on to the next with every breath. It’s aching, like the hollow in my chest that is slowly knitting itself together with every brush of his skin, every breath he takes. It’s consuming, like the love that surges between us, real and everlasting. Something so unbreakable, even death can’t stop us from being together once more.

That thought alone has the tears stream anew down my cheeks as I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, opening my mouth to let his tongue remind me what it feels like to live. To love. To cherish.

I climb atop him, something desperate clawing its way beneath my skin, as I cling to him, hands grasping at his hair. He’s just as rough, just as searching and overcome with this need to feel alive. His rough, calloused hands dive beneath my shirt, touching my skin. I moan at the feel of him, his skin so familiar, it’s imbedded into my own.

The slide of his skin against mine, his hands inching up my spine, makes me shiver. He pulls me even closer, lips now tracing my jaw, nipping my throat, sucking the skin of my collarbone. He groans as my breaths come out raggedly. His hands now pressing into me, forming bruises. It grounds me.

He’s here. He’s actually here.

With my hands in his hair, I pull him back to my lips, kissing him with abandon. Reminding me this is real.

When his hands slide down my skin, I moan once more at the feel of his callouses. Gods, I need him. I need-

He pulls his skin away from me and I grunt in frustration.

He laughs against my lips, before kissing me anew, this one sweeter, gentler. The racing of our heartbeats echoes between us as we slowly come up for air.

When he gives me another slow, burning, lingering kiss, he smiles against me. “Whatever you did, however you did it, thank you.”

I shake my head. “You don’t need to thank—“

“I do.” His grip tightens, holding me closer still. “How can I not? You brought me back. It’s a gift to be in your arms again. To be breathing.” He shakes his head before touching his forehead to mine, closing his eyes and breathing deep. “I’ll never stop being grateful. I don’t deserve you.”

I soften, my hands tracing his jaw as I lean in, kissing him once more. “We deserve each other.”

With his hand clasped in mine, everything is as it should be. The beat of his heart beneath my palm is the calm in the storm, reassuring me I will never be alone. Never again.

Sunlight breaks through the clouds ahead and if sparkles across the morning dew. I can’t help the hope rising inside of me at the sight. A new dawn, a new beginning. Together.

I close my eyes, basking in the sun, holding Liam close. Its warmth is similar to his touch. All-consuming, reassuring, and constant. A beacon in the darkness.

For the first time, I take a long, deep breath, knowing this is not our end. With him by my side, I can face anything.

Nothing will keep us apart now. Not the Venin. Not the looming war ahead. Not even death.

Not even when my eyes open, blinking in the sunlight, and traces of red, the color of blood and sacrifice, glimmer in the depths of my irises.

Unravel Me

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future-bog-body · 19 days ago

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Fog Weaver

Summary: It’s the summer of 1984 and the Satanic Ministry is thrown into chaos by a series of shocking murders. Three orphans unaware of their connection to each other find themselves entangled in the chaos.

Fourteen year old Copia has three friends in the world; His adoptive parents, his rats, and a newly summoned young earth Ghoul called Mountain. When Mountain is accused of murder on unfounded grounds, Copia is determined for them to prove his innocence.

Twenty-four year old Terzo is home from college for the summer and determined that this will finally be the year he charms his childhood sweethearts. But when a Ghoul is accused of murder, the tension that’s been building between the human Clergy and Ghouls experiences a sharp rise. With the tensions growing higher and past wrongs coming to light, Terzo finds himself leading the charge in defense of Ghouls.

Fourteen year old Perpetua is alone. He lives in a closed wing of the Abbey, kept away from the public by the order of his father, apparently for his own protection. That is, until a young Ghoul comes literally crashing into his life and, seeing the opportunity that Perpetua’s secret reign of the Abbey presents, the two begin a game as “spies”.

Read here or on Ao3! Next Chapter

A/N: Me when I finally post the fic I've been saying I'm going to??? I won't post all the chapters here all at once because I don't want to get in trouble for spam, but I do have all the currently written and edited chapters up on Ao3!!

Chapter One: Throw Yourself Into the Vessel of Possibilities

It’s not hot enough yet that Terzo is sweating as soon as he steps out of the airport. He’s grateful for that, as he dressed for the fact that he would soon be seen more than he dressed for the comfort of travel or to prevent overheating. It was a problem when he was sitting in the plane seat and vaguely uncomfortable in a way that wasn’t strong enough to elicit complaint, but now that he was standing and waiting for the car, he was perfectly fine. And he looked it, too, that was the important part. Dressed just glamorously enough to be mysterious and wealthy but not enough that he was clearly asking for attention. Designer sunglasses to hide his mismatched eyes, black hair perfectly styled. He was the ideal man to be leaning against the shadowed wall of an airport, waiting for his ride.

He knew his thoughts were justified by the fact that there were both men and women openly staring at him. Two women in particular were watching him, giggling behind their hands and whispering. He let a small grin lift the corners of his lips, small enough to be unseen. He did, after all, need to maintain his calm, cool exterior.

“You look like an idiot.” Despite his earlier determination not to let anything ruffle him, Terzo startled at the sudden voice. He looked to his side and frowned. Dressed all in black in a well tailored but just casual enough suit, with light olive skin, mid-length, blond curls, and mismatched eyes shining with laughter, Secondo was a sight for sore eyes.

Not that Terzo would ever tell his brother that.

“Says the one in the suit,” Terzo responds, letting his sunglasses slide down his nose just enough to make sure Secondo could see his judgemental stare.

“You like it?” Secondo responds, shaking his arms out slightly to readjust his cuffs and grinning at the shine of his cufflinks.

“How long have you been standing here?” Terzo asks, largely to avoid having to answer the question. And largely because he did, indeed, like the suit.

“Long enough to see you adjust yourself to perfect casualness to seem cool,” Secondo laughs, slinging an arm around Terzo’s shoulders. Secondo was an average height, but with Terzo as far below average as he was, his brother towered over him, and Terzo couldn’t fight the urge to calculate just how far his coolness factor just dropped with one simple move. Secondo seemed to know it, too, as out of the corner of his eye Terzo watched the other man wink at the two young women that were previously admiring Terzo, now openly staring at Secondo.

“Let’s just go to the car,” Terzo complains, shrugging Secondo’s arm off his shoulder and flicking his hair back.

“Oh!” Secondo’s voice was excited now and he stepped in front of Terzo, a grin on his face as he practically danced backwards. “Guess where the car is?”

“I assume in the parking lot,” Terzo replies, his voice dry and unamused.

“Nope!” Secondo grins and gestures to a sports car parked behind him that Terzo had previously paid no attention to. A classic Ferrari red, the iconic horse logo in all the right places. Terzo blinked rapidly, as if trying to wake himself from a dream, and then looked at Secondo in shock.

“What!?”

“Old one’s in the junkyard,” Secondo laughs. “Engine finally crapped out on me and I got the old man to agree that this was a rational use of my funds.” The old man in this instance referred to their eldest brother, Nihil, who largely oversaw the two youngest Emerituses spending budgets, at least on larger purchases such as a brand new sports car.

“Unholy shit…” Terzo mutters, approaching the car almost reverently. Secondo grinned and grabbed Terzo’s luggage. He’d only brought two suitcases for the summer, the rest of his things in his apartment in the city near campus. Secondo - either afraid of being yelled at by Terzo or happy enough to see his brother to be unwilling to piss him off intentionally - gently placed both pieces of luggage into the trunk while Terzo admired the car.

“This is- dude.”

“I know!” Secondo cackles, big and happy, as he climbed into the driver’s seat. Terzo didn’t even have it in him to be upset that most of his cool points were likely to be gone by now, given his gawking at his brother’s new car. Terzo found himself laughing as well as he climbed into the passenger’s seat.

The drive was long. The airport was as close to the Ministry as possible, but that still meant it was an hour’s drive away. Secondo had turned the radio on as soon as he turned the car on and occasionally drummed along to the metal music coming out of the speakers on the steering wheel, singing along. Terzo instead watched his brother, cataloguing all the differences ten months made.

Terzo never returned for the winter break, always preferring to finally have alone time in his own apartment, away from any responsibilities with the Ministry or his family. Which was all well and good for himself, but it did mean that while studying, he spent the majority of the year without ever seeing any of the men he had grown up having for constant company. Secondo hadn’t changed much in that time. His blond hair was a bit longer, curls slightly better maintained than last Terzo had seen. His shoulders were broader and chest larger with muscle. But ultimately, he was still the exact same as always, down the way he squinted in the light of the sun. Terzo sighed and pulled an extra pair of sunglasses from the carry-on at his feet - he always carried a few extra pairs, just in case - and handed them to his brother. Secondo accepted without looking and put them on.

Secondo was older by three months, which meant practically nothing to the rest of the world, but Secondo assumed meant absolutely everything and that he automatically had authority to treat Terzo like the babiest of brothers in existence. That never stopped him from accepting Terzo taking care of him, though.

“How’s the Ministry?” Terzo asks eventually, when watching his brother proved that nothing had changed, he had not missed anything important in the lives of those he loved.

Secondo had gone to college with Terzo initially, but where Terzo stayed to pursue a PHD, Secondo had wanted to return home. Now he did some nebulous job in the Ministry. A priest, technically, but most of his work involved the maintenance of the library and archives, at his own request. He also had a band that Terzo knew performed locally, although it wasn’t very popular at the moment, for now.

Secondo hesitated at the question before answering, “Things have been okay. They’re getting… tense.”

“Tense?” Terzo asks.

“With the Ghouls.”

Ghouls were a lower classification of demons, spirits, et cetera. Largely elemental beings, they existed in many different cultures. Ghouls to the Ministry - a preferred name for much of the species - and demons to Catholics. Djinn to certain cultures, and any other number of names. They were a part of a deal between Hell and the Ministry- Ghoul servants aided the Ministry in their mission and in return, emissaries of Hell were given a say in the running of the Ministry. The issue arose from the fact that Ghouls were subject to many, many rules under the Clergy’s direction. Dangerous, oppressive rules that often restricted them quite a bit. Things had been growing tense for years, since-

Terzo shook his head as if to physically shake a thought, a memory, from it.

“And Omega? Alpha?” Terzo asks instead. Alpha and Omega were two Ghouls, young by Ghoul standards, but by now old enough that human standards of age hardly mattered at all. Terzo had grown up with them around the Ministry, and if anyone asked, he would say he had been in love with them since he was capable of the thought.

“Good, haven’t seen them too much, honestly,” Secondo answers, shrugging a bit. “Probably busy.” Ghouls did a variety of work around the Ministry, although it usually was defined by what their element was and, thus, what they would be the best at naturally.

It all sounded a bit like eugenics in a fantasy setting if you asked Terzo, but people so rarely did.

“Good, good.” Was the younger’s only reply. He felt more than saw Secondo’s gaze aimed at him and had almost formed the motivation to snap at his brother to pay attention to the road when Secondo turned away once again.

“I look forward to watching you fail again this year,” Secondo says eventually, a smirk on his lips. Terzo’s face instinctually screwed up in an ugly pout, resisting the urge to throw anything at Secondo, as the high speed and open convertible top meant it would more likely fly away and be lost to him forever. Or go back and hit him in the face instead.

“I will not fail this year,” he declares, offense only growing as Secondo simply laughed and turned the music on the radio up.

----

The Abbey was much the same as it was when Terzo had left last August. It was June now and most of the plants that decorated the sprawling grounds were in full bloom. There were, of course, abbeys stationed all around the globe under the Ministry’s control, there was even one fairly close to where Terzo went to school that he attended for Dark Mass. But this was The Abbey. Where the head of the entire Clergy personnel lived and operated, where Papa lived and operated. Well. Papa to the rest of the faithful. To Terzo and Secondo, he was Nihil. Or, more often, “asshole”.

Their eldest brother, he was a little more than twenty years older than the two youngests, and had raised them since they were babies. More accurately, he had been there occasionally, but had largely allowed various nannies, both human and Ghoul alike, to do most of the actual raising. He’d never explained what had happened to their parents, and neither had Primo or their sister Marika. The whole thing was a family secret, and it appeared that Secondo and Terzo were still considered too young to be let in on family secrets.

There were children scattered in the Abbey’s yard, clearly celebrating the end of their schooling for the year. The Abbey housed many children for many different reasons. Lots of them were children of the many Brothers and Sisters of Sin that lived on the Abbey grounds, and still more were orphans that had been taken in by the Clergy run orphanage that was on the grounds. As the brothers walked from where Secondo had handed the car off to a Ghoul to park and take Terzo’s luggage in, Terzo scanned the crowds of children for a familiar head of brown hair. There were children of all ages and the young teenager that Terzo was looking for wouldn't have looked out of place, save for if you took too long a look at the quality of his clothing or managed to make him make eye contact with you.

“Where's Copia?” Terzo asks when his search proved lacking in fruit.

“Still in class, I imagine,” Secondo replies, shrugging. “You know how Salty is, the boy's getting the same education we did.”

Copia was, technically, family. He was technically the son of a friend of Marika's, Terzo and Secondo's older and only sister. His father never knew he existed, according to Marika, and his mother had given him up soon after birth. Legally, Marika was his guardian with no relation, but she'd been Aunt Marika to him since he was young, and Auntie Mari before that, and Ma when he was too young to form any other sound.

Terzo looked at Secondo, aghast, “He's getting a papal education?”

“Salty insisted.” Secondo shrugged again. Salty in this case was, technically, Psaltarian, Marika's husband. Terzo had never bothered to learn his first name and neither had Secondo. The man had never learned theirs, either, referring to them exclusively with “you” and a point. He had no time in his busy schedule for anyone but his wife and ward.

“Nihil won't be happy about that,” Terzo says eventually, letting his eyes slide over the gathered children with a significant lack of interest now that he knew his young nephew wasn't present among them.

Terzo wouldn't say he was close to the boy, they spoke only at family dinners when it was required of them. But his eyes - the same mismatched as Terzo's own - had always intrigued him. If anyone asked, Terzo would say that there was more to the story of Copia's lineage than anyone was willing to admit.

People so rarely did, though.

Either way, his interest in the boy was passive. The same interest anyone would have in what was, by law, their nephew, but not nearly enough that he was motivated to seek the boy out actively.

“How’s Primo?” Terzo asks. It was a question that he had wanted to ask since they got in the car but hadn't been able to find the words for. Secondo's hesitant step when he processed the words and the way his chin dropped closer to his chest gave a partial answer on its own.

Around July of last year, Primo had begun to lose his vision. The doctors had done test after test and had not yet found a reason for it, and his eyes remained the same as ever. One dark green, the other white. There was no visible change in him, no reason for the loss. But it had just begun to slowly fade away, day after day. Primo rarely let it stop him, though. Five years Terzo’s senior, he was in the prime of his life and it showed. Already an archbishop, Primo led the flock of faithful proudly and strongly, preaching not just in the Abbey but journeying around the world to do so. All the while he aided the Abbey’s earth ghouls in the maintenance of the garden. The only difference now was the water Ghoul always at his side, a guide dog with far more intelligence and danger to it than any dog.

“It's not coming back, if that's what you're curious about,” Secondo replies, sighing softly. It was rare for Secondo to exhibit any such care for another person so openly. He always felt it, Terzo knew that. He just didn't show it.

“Let's talk about something happier,” Secondo says before Terzo can ask another question. They stop short at the door to the Abbey, Secondo allowing Terzo a second to take a deep breath before they enter and are inevitably thrust back into the responsibilities of existing under the name Emeritus. Terzo nodded shortly, grasping for a subject as Secondo reached for the door. Just as Secondo's hand was about to close over the handle, however, the door was shoved open. Terzo and Secondo both jumped back, allowing the door to open fully, and Terzo's breath stops short in his chest.

The Ghoul standing on the other side of the doorway is tall, even by Ghoul standards. He stood well over six feet and possibly over seven as well, big and broad. He’s dressed all in black, his face covered by a silver mask made to resemble a doll's face. He has long, curly hair tied back away from his face and mask and short, sharp horns. He didn't say a word, had nothing about him that technically identified him as separate from any other Ghoul in the ministry. Regardless, Terzo's face broke into a smile of its own accord as he observed the Ghoul in front of him. He would know this man in death, in life. In the Pits when it was eventually Terzo's time, he would know the energy of the Ghoul in front of him by its presence alone.

“Hello, Omega,” Terzo greets, the fondness in his voice achingly obvious even to himself.

Nothing about Omega speaks of startle or exertion. Every centimeter of his clothing is perfectly pressed and arranged, every hair in its rightful place. And yet, his voice is breathless as he says, “Welcome back, your Unholiness.”

#ghost bc #the band ghost #cardinal copia #papa v perpetua #ghost terzo #papa emeritus iii #terzomega #terzalphaomega #ghost fanfiction #fog weaver

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iheartmira · 3 months ago

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hiiiiiiii!!!! i saw ur smilk/reader posts and js wanted to start off by saying ur writing is amazing and it inspires me, i think ure one of the coolest ever x reader blogs out there

crk selfshipping brainrot has fried my brain so hard……. i am unsure if you write polyamorous fics (character x reader x character) as i was thinking fem!reader catching both yan!shadow milk and yan!mystic flours eyes while travelling through beast yeast and their love for reader becomes this undying obsession so they both team up and kidnap???? take in??? reader with them. suggestive content is preferred for this one too, e.g. they just think reader is too beautiful for them to not keep their hands off with reader being fine w that ofc. and its fine if you prefer writing only one character, if you refuse poly ships then just yan!mystic flour x fem!traveller!reader is okay (~_~;) i am sososo excited 2 see what u can come up with for this one!!!

"star-crossed" yandere!mystic flour x reader x yandere!shadow milk cookie

✧ ✧ ✧

the ivory pagoda and the spire of deceit: two places no wanderer should dare step foot in. the first, a realm draped in eternal mist, where time itself felt as insubstantial as a dream. the second, a spiraling abyss of whispering echoes, where light struggled to exist.

yet, despite the suffocating stillness of these lands, you ventured through them, oblivious to the gazes that followed you.

a whisper in the darkness. a lingering breath in the fog.

they watched.

shadow milk cookie, concealed within the twisting spire of his domain, observed your every movement with predatory delight. the way you walked, unhurried, untouched by fear. the way your form, so fragile and delicate, caught the dim glow of his cursed eyes. how could a being such as you simply exist, so unburdened, so breathtakingly beautiful?

he grinned, sharp teeth glinting in the cold light. mine.

from the veiled halls of her pagoda, mystic flour cookie stood in unshaken silence, eyes only half-open, her apathy an ever-present fog around her. yet, she saw you. your beauty, unmarred by greed, by the filth of worldly desires. untouched. a vision of purity among the waste of existence.

for the first time in centuries, something within her stirred. not quite emotion, but something dangerously close. a pull. a need.

she would not let you slip away.

and so, they agreed. shadow milk cookie, ever the weaver of deception, and mystic flour cookie, the prophet of apathy, an unlikely pair bound by a singular, unrelenting desire.

to have you.

to keep you.

you never realized when you stopped walking.

the world around you was shifting. the mist thickened, curling around your limbs, weaving through your breath like a lullaby. the flickering shadows on the ground elongated, stretching unnaturally, wrapping themselves around your feet.

a voice, low, saccharine, familiar yet foreign, poured into your ears like honeyed venom.

"why do you wander?" shadow milk cookie’s voice coiled around you, and though he was nowhere to be seen, you could feel him. "what is it you want, little doll?"

a second voice followed, softer, eerily steady. mystic flour cookie. "it matters not. the outcome is the same."

something cold and weightless ghosted against your skin. you tried to turn, to move... only to realize you couldn’t.

the shadows were gripping you. the mist had solidified around your limbs, holding you in place as gently as a lover’s embrace, yet as unyielding as fate itself.

and then, they appeared.

shadow milk cookie emerged from the abyss like a nightmare given form, his mismatched eyes glinting with something far too hungry to be called affection. he was close, impossibly so, his breath tickling your ear.

"i should have taken you sooner," he murmured, voice dripping with amusement.

"you've walked so far, yet you never realized you were walking straight into my arms!"

you shuddered, the weight of his presence pressing against you like a promise unspoken.

from the mist, mystic flour cookie descended, as if stepping from a place beyond reality. she gazed at you with her distant, unreadable expression, her fingers tracing along the side of your face with the ghost of a touch. it was the kind of touch that felt less like an embrace and more like a claim.

"such beauty," she mused, tilting her head slightly. "wasted on a world of impermanence."

a hand brushed your wrist, fingers curling around it as shadow milk cookie’s grip tightened, possessive, possessive, possessive.

"you belong with us now," he whispered, his voice so sweet it was sickening.

"there is no escape," mystic flour cookie added. not a warning, nor a threat, just fact.

the weight of inevitability settled over you as the mist rose higher, the shadows entwining with it until you could no longer see where one ended and the other began.

shadow milk cookie’s lips barely ghosted against your skin as he chuckled darkly, and mystic flour cookie’s breath lingered against your neck like the cold promise of eternity.

too beautiful to let go. too precious to be allowed freedom.

you belonged to them now.

forever.

✧ ✧ ✧

‹𝟹 ‎ ⠀⠀ˑ˚₊ ·⠀interested in requesting? check out my pinned!

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run x reader #crk #crk x reader #shadow milk #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk crk #shadow milk x reader #shadow milk cookie x reader #mystic flour #mystic flour cookie #mystic flour crk #mystic flour x reader #mystic flour cookie x reader

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soberpluto · 9 months ago

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Examining Neptune's Spell

Apologies for not being here after so much time, but now I'm back and very thrilled to share this with you all! I'm hopeful many can find this helpful.

Unnecesary context aside, just recently I was having a long and deep conversation with a friend of mine about my semi-recurring mini existential crises. After hearing me patiently, with the dear intention of making me realize I was drowning in my tiny glass of water, he simply (and brilliantly) replied:

"I think you're problem is that you have unrealistic expectations about yourself."

Any attempt to blurt out in self-defense ceased instantly because of how deep these words sunk in my mind. I stared into the wall before for me and felt how the missing puzzle piece finally dropped into the perfect spot. Obviously, the thought of having my sun in Cancer and Neptune in almost exact opposition popped inside, and it took a WHOLE new dimmension. How could this statement not be true?! OF COURSE he was right! It's not that I wasn't told that before or haven't read about it multiple times in my astrology studies, but the truth is, (a very Neptunian thing now that I think about it) I didn't believe it quite applied to me. Because I don't like to feel mediocre and because I think of myself as a spiritual and highly self-aware woman, I was convinced that holding myself to "unrealistic standards" was definitely NOT the reason that triggered me to want fleed to a desert islands at times when reality felt like too much. It was bitterly humorous when I realized I evidently missed the fact that Neptune was making a hell of a job doing what he does best: casting its spells of illusion and glittery distorted beliefs about how things were "supposed to be" in a surprisingly unadverted way into my life. I was truly relieved to actually understand (or accept, better said) why trying to have a simple and happy life seemed too tricky at times. It all made sense.

Now, let me introduce Neptune, if you happen to be unacquainted.

Neptune in astrology is like the ultimate dream weaver, spinning a web of intuition, imagination, and mystery. It’s the planet of all things ethereal, where reality gets a little blurry, and you’re invited to dive into the deep end of fantasy, spirituality, and idealism. Neptune whispers, "What if?" and suddenly, we're seeing the world through a kaleidoscope of possibilities, but a "little" foggy on the details. We're all influenced by Neptune one way or another, but when it touches personal planets or points in our charts, it’s like life hands us a pair of customized rose-colored glasses, but the prescription is way off. Suddenly, everything feels a bit magical, like we're starring in your own fairytale, except the castle is made of mist, the prince might just be a mirage, and that enchanted forest? It’s actually a parking lot.

But why bother making us feel loony? On a more serious note, our master illusionist possesses the higher purpose of awakening our connection to something greater than the everyday grind. It gently pulls us out of the rigid boundaries of reality and whispers, "There’s more to life than meets the eye." It invites us to explore the depths of our imagination, spirituality, and compassion, blurring the lines between self and universe. The illusions it creates are really a nudge to dissolve our ego’s grip, helping us see beyond the material and embrace a higher sense of love, creativity, and unity with the cosmos.

As inspiring and touching as it sounds, the catch is that fulfilling Neptune’s mission can feel like chasing fog—just when we think we’ve got a handle on it, it slips through our fingers. Neptune wants us to transcend reality and connect with the divine, but let’s be real: that’s not exactly a day-to-day, grocery-list-friendly goal. For someone with heavy Neptune influence, this pursuit of higher meaning can be disorienting, leaving them feeling lost in a sea of "what ifs" and "maybes." And thanks to its grandeur idealism, it can push people to be hypersensitive, highly fearful of failure and completely inaccurate with what they may achieve in a day, let alone a lifetime!

For a Neptunian, the intuitive desire to be flawless and sufficient does not come from wordly expectations, but from a place of soulful calling that more often unconsciously than consciously tells them they're limitless beings living in a limited reality. And this is exactly the greatest challenge of all: to accept that the truth must be known while respecting the illusion, just as a spiritual teacher Michael Mirdad states.

That said, you can imagine what happens when mystical and whimsical Neptune gets cozy with your personal planets. Let's see in detail how it sprinkles its glitter them:

Sun

Soft Aspects: With soft aspects, your Sun is shining brighter than ever! Neptune sprinkles fairy dust on your creativity and confidence, making you feel like a superstar in your own musical. It’s all about embracing your spiritual side and believing that you can conquer the world—cape optional!

Hard Aspects: You’re the artist of your own identity, but the canvas keeps shifting. One day you’re an astronaut, the next day you’re a poet, and by the end of the week, you’re contemplating becoming a full-time mystic. Neptune tells you, "Be everything," but sometimes that just leaves you wondering, "Who am I, really?"

Moon

Soft Aspects: Your emotions flow like a gentle river, and you’re tuned in to everyone’s feelings like a super empath (you could be a cool wizard/witch or clairvoyant!). Neptune wraps you in a cozy blanket of intuition, making heartfelt connections feel like a warm hug from the universe. Cue the happy tears!

Hard Aspects: Enter the emotional whirlpool! Neptune can stir up your feelings like a cosmic blender, leading to mood swings and a general sense of overwhelm. You might find yourself daydreaming your way through real-life emotions, and good luck figuring out what you actually feel!

Mercury

Soft Aspects: With Neptune’s gentle nudge, your thoughts become a beautiful symphony! Communication flows like honey, and you’re bursting with creative ideas. It’s a fantastic time for writing, brainstorming, or chatting about all things magical and dreamy! You could be a music lover, a great singer or a romantic poet.

Hard Aspects: But when Neptune goes rogue, it’s like trying to read a recipe in a funhouse—everything’s upside down! Your thoughts get scattered, and communication feels like a game of telephone gone wrong. Get ready for misunderstandings and the occasional “Wait, what did you just say?” This aspect looks very similar to a Piscean or Sagittarian Mercury, a common link to ADHD.

Venus

Soft Aspects: Love is in the air! Neptune turns your romantic life into a whimsical fairy tale, where everything feels enchanting. Your heart opens wide, and connections deepen, making even the smallest moments feel like a scene from a rom-com.

Hard Aspects: But hold on! Neptune might have you wearing those rose-colored glasses a bit too tightly. You might find yourself idealizing partners or being swept away by fantasies, only to crash back to reality when things don’t match your dreamy expectations. Ouch!

Mars

Soft Aspects: With Neptune in your corner, your drive becomes a creative spark! You’re ready to take action with a burst of inspiration, making you feel like a superhero on a mission. Time to tackle those goals with flair and imagination!

Hard Aspects: When Neptune throws in a twist, it’s like trying to run through quicksand. Your motivation might wane, leaving you confused about where to focus your energy. It’s a cosmic case of “I had a plan… what was it again?”

To wrap it up after such long post, living with Neptune’s influence means you’ve got a backstage pass to the land of dreams, creativity, and big feelings. But it also means you might find yourself getting tangled up in illusions, setting sky-high standards that real life simply can’t meet. So when Neptune touches your personal planets, just remember: it's okay to dream big, but keep a little reality check in your back pocket. You can chase those rainbows, but don’t forget to pack an umbrella for when they dissolve into rain.

Thanks so much for reading, love you! 🥰

Written by @soberpluto

#neptune #astrology observations #astrology notes #astrology community #astrology #birth chart #astro observations #neptune personal planets #neptune sun #neptune moon #neptune mercury #neptune venus #neptune mars

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