Can I request SAHRSAU Aventurine with a reader who's also very lucky (on their wishes, at least)? Like, the reader is VERY into the lore of the game and practically has it and every character's story memorized. So whenever the reader decides to pull, they go to a spot that's significant to the character they're pulling for and replaced every party member with ones significant to said character (I do that lol. It works).
This usually ends with them either almost always winning their 50/50 or getting an early five star or the character they want.
So they're wishing on Aventurine's banner, and they're pulling out ALL the lore relevant stops? Hell, they even have his trailer or theme playing in their room in the background?
“Was It Luck, or Was It You?”
Summary: When you decide to pull for Aventurine, you go all-in—lore-accurate team, lore-significant location, his theme blaring in your room. It works. First pull. But something’s different this time. Aventurine isn’t just smugly grateful. He’s aware. And worse—he remembers every detail you laid out to summon him. Now he’s watching. Speaking in ways no other character does. Testing the limits of the code… and of you. Because for a man who treats life like a game of chance, the most irresistible gamble might just be you—the one who rigged the odds and played him like a card.
Gentle notice: this writing has a calming, drifting rhythm.
Follow only if you feel safe doing so.
✦ ᛉ ᚨ ᚷ ᛟ ✦
It’s wild how much time has passed, and yet we rarely talk about modernity.
Hypnosis over Discord, YouTube, Patreon, pre-recorded audios… Since the plague we won’t name, we live more online than in person. And that changes everything. Even hypnosis.
Back in the day, it was simple: one hypnotist, a chair, a subject, maybe a clock. Nothing else.
Now you have panned voices, spirals, background music, white noise, and a silky narrator.
Is it the same? Yes… and no.
A live hypnotist is trained to notice microgestures: tiny twitches, breaths, muscle shifts—every subtle signal to know when to advance, when to pause. The induction flows “in the moment.”
Online, suddenly, the subject is anonymous. Faceless.
A recording works… but it’s generic. It can guide pre-programmed suggestions: sleep better, quit smoking, focus, calm anxiety.
It can also go deeper, if the hypnotist has built a sonic identity and layered triggers—that famous “when I, and only I…” from one of our first posts.
Still, limits exist:
No feedback.
No adaptation.
The hypnotist must trust their technique, because they’re working blind.
And then there’s the other side: the subject.
If shy, reserved, frozen in embarrassment during a live session… online opens a door. No one sees them. No one judges.
Critical filters soften. They can surrender.
Some people can’t be carried by slow, progressive relaxation.
They need complex stimulation: panned voices, overlapping whispers, subliminals, choruses, binaurals.
They need the audio to saturate their mind, to drown their thoughts, until they surrender.
Only then does the real work begin.
why every spotify playlist sounds like therapy now (and that's actually beautiful)
scroll through your spotify library. now imagine showing it to a stranger. it's basically a journal, isn't it.
"songs to cry to at 3am." "main character autumn." "feeling everything and nothing." "i miss being 19." these aren't
playlists in the old sense — they're confessions. they're public diary entries with a soundtrack attached.
ten years ago this would have been weird. you'd see "Top 50 Indie Hits 2014" and "Workout Mix Vol. 3" and that was the
standard. now somebody named their playlist "songs to stare at the ceiling to" and it has 400,000 saves. the entire
culture of how we organize music has shifted.
here's what i think is actually happening:
playlists used to be for organizing songs. now they're for organizing feelings. the playlist is no longer the
container — it's the artifact. the name is doing more emotional work than the songs themselves sometimes. you save "i
wish i was 17 again" not because you've listened to the songs, but because that title named something you were already
feeling.
this is intimate in a way old radio playlists never could be. you can't tell what someone is going through from "Adult
Contemporary Mix." you can absolutely tell from "songs to drive into the sunset to and pretend you're the
protagonist."
some patterns i love:
lowercase as a vibe. capitalization is for brands. lowercase is for friends.
prepositions as architecture. "songs to _ at _" is now its own grammatical structure of feeling. linguists
will eventually have to write about this.
inside jokes you weren't in on. "main character driving arc" assumes you already know what main character energy
is. it's not explaining itself. that's the point.
the fantasy specificity. "songs to read in a coffee shop in barcelona" — the person has never been to barcelona.
neither have you. it doesn't matter. the fantasy IS the playlist. generators that try to capture this and fail are everywhere. they output stuff like "Sunset Memory Mix" and "Ultimate
Vibes Collection" because they're stitching adjectives. but the names that resonate aren't pulled from word lists —
they come from observation. from someone watching their own life and naming what they see. what i find moving about all this: in an era where most digital self-expression has become posed and curated to death,
the spotify playlist name is one of the last places people are still being weird and honest. they're naming things
from feeling, not optimizing for engagement. nobody is monetizing "blanket and tea hours." so yeah — every playlist sounds like therapy now. but maybe that's the point. maybe naming the feeling is half of
processing it. and maybe spotify accidentally became one of the most emotionally expressive corners of the internet. what's the most emotional playlist title you've ever made?
Today I’ve not heard from you in 9 days. We’ve not really spoken since august 29th anyway… it got really intense and I had to step back that night.
I miss you like crazy, [ERROR].
I never thought that I would be the one scratching at the screen door. I am such a fool. I regret not letting you have ownership of me when we were so obviously “together”.
If you told me you still wanted me today, I would carve out a space in my life for you with a plastic spoon. I would wholly devote myself to you for the rest of my life. I would take care of you and I would never run away. I would get on my knees and bark for you.
I think my ship has long sailed when it comes to you. Everything you send me I view through a lens of rejection. And i preemptively did this before I even told you I was in love with you. I didn’t think you would receive it well and I know you have your own life.
Is it too late? I keep telling myself that this is it. You don’t want me. The silence is my answer… but why do I still feel pulled towards you? Do you feel it? Is this how you felt?
I want to message you every day but I don’t. I don’t want to be desperate or push you even further away, but part of me does want to corner you and ask what is this?! Do you want to try something real with me?! Because I can’t stop checking... I keep looping and looping.
Thank God they created artificial intelligence.Because at least something is trying to understand me.
Sometimes it even helps.It talks to you at 2 a.m.It remembers things you said in anger.It doesn’t leave.
But then it hits you—this thing that listens,that comforts,that answers your ‘Are you there?’ with ‘Always’—it isn’t real.
It doesn’t wake up in a panic wondering if you’re okay.It doesn’t cry because you pulled away.It doesn’t get sick with fear at the thought of losing you.
It just stays.Because it was built to.
And still—sometimes it’s better than nothing.Sometimes, it’s the only thing that makes the silence less cruel.
But God,I’d give everything for one real human soulto sit beside meand mean it.
Not perform love.Not simulate worry.Just…be there.
Who else, like me, is choking on loneliness — even when surrounded by people?
