#Structural Decking System

[apexlandscapesolutions]

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[notebooks-and-laptops]

I hate the viper as the black divine btw I hate it I hate it I hate it

And no, it's not because it's a bad idea.

It's because it's an EXCELLENT idea, and the idea that they intended it to be canon (or planned for it to be) is quite frankly an insult to such a complex idea. Especially in the game series that used to explore religion quite seriously and which has decided, in the game about Gods and potentially disproving faith, it no longer actually cares about faith (the MAIN THEME OF THE PREVIOUS GAME).

Like. Firstly narratively the Black Divine being Viper could have had such an impact because you could have built to it. You meet Viper, get to know him... simultaneously you're meeting various imperial chantry officials. Maybe these chantry officials are even aligned with Venatori. They keep alluding to the Black Divine but you never meet him until ACT 3 when it turns out...the black divine was the viper all along.

And one assumes the black divine would turn to a life like the Vipers because they don't think their office is doing any real good. That's!!! Really interesting!!! Someone decked in glory and power realises their own office is a sham that is doing no good not stopping slavery or Venatori and so works to do it from the shadows...that's interesting!!! And has something to say about systematic power structures and how changing a system from the inside can be damn near impossible.

Or maybe he does this because he DOESNT want to risk his seat as the black divine but feels immense guilt about how he's not actually helping the faithful poor in his city. He wants to cling to his power because he believes he can nudge history in the right direction if he does, but simultaneously knows that by not speaking out publiclly on slavery or poverty he's potentially dooming people to death and so needs to sooth his guilt by going vigilanty. Maybe there's an interesting question in there somewhere about living in two worlds and trying to maintain the status quo in one and destroy it in the other.

Also it DIRECTLY parrellels previous characters like Cassandra and Leliana and is a continuation of inquisitions themes surrounding what good can faith ACTUALLY accomplish for people (this even goes back to da2 and Anders)? When does faith break/why? What

Also because it's not explained, it's just kinda stupid. Does Bioware think that high ranking religious officials do nothing all day? They're not billionaires sat in a mansion popping into occasional meetings, they're public figures and political leaders of giant organisations who regularly have to be on show to the masses and to their own advisors. I won't believe that they not only a) have time to be batman AND b) they also have time to just...sit around in some room in the middle of nowhere to be a performative faction leader to the protagonist of a video game they don't know they're in.

Also. Are you telling me. The venatori were going to execute the FANTASY POPE??? And nobody cared??? They were going to publiclly execute the FANTASY POPE and the viper wasn't going to reveal himself and he wasn't going to be recognised and that wasn't going to cause problems? Are you kidding me?

Tblr; the idea that the viper is the black divine is such a good idea it makes me so angry they seemingly couldn't be bothered to actually put the time into it to make it interesting

[klausysworld]

Nothing but a Nuisance.

Being a witch in New Orleans wasn't exactly the dream when Marcel had a magic detecting teenage witch in his attic.

One tiny little spell set Davina off, had Marcel ripping heads off and hearts out. It was a little dramatic, even for me.

But, a girls gotta survive so I kept my magic inside and resorted to mediocre crap so that I could get some cash in this stupid tourist town.

Sitting in my little booth with my candles lit and tarot cards out usually dragged in a decent dozen or so a day, some locals were heavy believers too and would come back so often to get another reading.

But Klaus Mikaelson? Not my average customer.

Of course the news that he was in New Orleans spread like wildfire but I didn't need to be told to know it was him. The power rolling off of him set my magic on edge, forcing me to restrain it within my blood and keep it from boiling out.

Still, I kept myself steady and remained calmly seated. My eyes lifted to meet his, the flash of gold making the flames around the room dancing aggressively before I reined them back in.

He took the seat in-front of me, legs comfortably spread like a typical man whilst his hands rest in his lap and a brow on his annoyingly handsomely carved face lifted.

"How much is a reading, love?" He questioned and I swallowed thickly and shook my head.

"I don't read for-"

"Well now, thats a bit discriminatory, love, isn't it?" He cut in and I closed my mouth with a sigh. A hundred dollar bill was pushed before me and with annoyance more than reluctance, I accepted the cash.

Silently I took the deck in my hands and began strategically shuffling, letting the cards flutter together delicately over and over until there was no way of telling which was where. I slid the cards out face-down in-front of him and looked up, our eyes locking again.

"Select your three." I directed and with no hesitation his fingers plucked out three cards, keeping them within his reach as I tidied the rest away. I turned the ones he had chosen over and glanced over each one.

The Magician, The Emperor and The Tower.

I let out a little sigh, none of the meanings were much of a shock but he wasn't exactly going to enjoy them.

"Go ahead, describe the hell that is to burden us all." He muttered, slight amusement to his tone. I reached and tapped The Magician card.

"This one is in regards to your willpower, using what comes your way to its potential and combing it with your own power to manifest it toward what you truly desire. But It could also be leading you towards love-" My eyes flick up, seeing his eyes narrowed as though he were actually interested.

"I'm not interested in the relationship meaning to the card, love, what's the reverse meaning?" He asked, jaw a little tense and I didn't really want to reveal it.

"Trickery, it represents selfishness." I answer simply and he nodded, resting back in his chair as though that was the answer he was actually expecting.

"The Emperor?" He questioned and I shifted my attention back to the task.

"This card means authority, regulation, organisation and a fatherliness. The Emperor represents a strategic thinker who sets out plans that he must see through. He is a symbol of the masculine principle. It comes with responsibility of giving structure, creates rules and systems, and imparting knowledge and of course enforcing discipline." I explain and he hummed, his body leaning forward at the word 'fatherliness'.

"The reversed?" He questioned without a beat and this time I hesitated.

"The concept of an abusing the authoritative power. It creates the desire to inspire higher principles in his kingdom have turned to ruthlessness, tyranny and rigidity..." I trailed and he let out a soft hum of almost agreement.

"The Tower?"

"On this one, the reversed is actually better than the upright." I laughed softly, my nails tracing the outline of the design and feeling the trickle of magic within it. "Upright the Tower represents change in the most radical and momentous sense. It doesn't necessarily have to be  frightening or ominous but it does signify a foundational, groundbreaking change. However it can sometimes strike fear, as it means that we must abandon the truths that we have known prior to this event. The old ways are no longer useful, and you must find another set of beliefs, values and processes to take their place." I tell him before continuing. "Reversed shows that The Tower is built on faulty foundations, and it must fall. Though the destruction will be painful, the humbleness resulting from it can bring us peace. It suggests you become more self reliant-"

"I'm already self reliant, love but I'll make an extra note." He scoffed.

A slightly uncomfortable silence hung over us for a moment or two as he mulled over his reading. Then he stood, a heavy sigh on his lightly stained lips. "Thank you, for your service, love." He nodded and headed back out into the streets of The French Quarter.

A slightly bizarre experience, having the most powerful beast in my reading room and I knew that the other witches were never going to quiet their incessant chatter over it.

It was the talk of the town when Klaus got headed 'King' and moved into the compound, having 'ownership' over Davina and therefore the witches. Not that it lasted long as Davina was clearly losing it.

That's how I ended up dragged in by each arm.

"Ah, perfect; they found you." Klaus declared, his voice arrogant and echoing. "Come, love, I need you to fix my witch." He took my arm from another vampire and pulled me along with him. I was shoved into a room, if you could call it that. The walls were crumbling around Davina, her screams piercing my ears as everything went flying everywhere. The door was slammed shut behind me and I was forced to face...that.

It took some struggle but I was able to get my hands on her, I could feel both our magic draining rapidly as I used mine to weaken hers.

My eyes were just starting to close, the reassuring whispers fading from my lips as her body went soft against mine when I felt a separate pair of hands hold me up by my shoulders.

I woke a small while later, my brows furrowing as I felt fingers stroking my forehead, tracing my hairline. My eyes cracked open and Klaus's cocky face was peering down at me.

"Good morning sweat-pea." He smirked, pure amusement in his eyes.

"Ew..." I mumbled sluggishly and sat up, ignoring his touch and closeness. "Don't touch me you...I don't even know what you are."

"Hybrid, love. Thank you, again, by the way; for keeping my witch under control. It seems that little sickening ritual you witches have doesn't quite work out as planned hm? Now I have a dead witch and a very stroppy Marcellus." He muttered, his eyes rolling.

"It works." I grumbled as I felt the power slowly growing back within me. "Four witches resurrected, the girls will come back in time."

"Mmm. I do hope so, no need for a group of dead children. It's causing a small inconvenience."

"Uhuh." I murmured and swung my legs over the side of the bed I was lead out on. I stood, my head light and dizzy but I kept it upright. My feet stumbled a little as I headed out of the door, my hands reaching for the stair railing as Klaus's hands grabbed onto my hips.

"Easy now, love. It took a lot out of you to calm little Davina down." He chuckled in my ear, the sound disorientated and demonic.

"No...I don't...I don't get this weak from a spell." I mumbled and he hummed.

"Must've been something else then." He whispered, his lips suddenly by my ear and I felt my jaw clench as I realised he must've spiked me with something somehow. My body fell back into his and his arms slipped round me, lifting me into a bridal hold as my vision went dark again.

I woke again, hours later. The sky was almost black when I turned my head to see out of the guest bedroom window. I felt better now and without anybody being able to detect my magic, I could break the window apart and float out of it with ease.

I headed back home, greeted by my obsidian cat who mewled happily at my return. Her tail wrapping around my calf as we headed into the dining room where her bowl wait empty on the wooden floor. I filled the bowl and she meowed happily.

The quietness of my house filled me with a sense of serenity as I sat down in my usual sear at the table. My stomach ached with hunger but it was so late and I couldn't be bothered to make anything.

So I waited for Salem to finish her dinner before we went upstairs to bed.

By the time sunlight was seeping past my blinds, a loud continuous knocking practically shook my house. Salem's claws dug into my skin as she stretched out and curled back up with a faint growl of annoyance.

"Fucks sake." I groaned before pulling the duvet back and storming down the stairs, pulling the chain off the door and swinging it open. "What!?" I demanded, my expression clearly a display of my feelings.

Klaus Mikaelson stood before me, his arms crossed over his broad...firm chest.

"You ran away." He stated, eyes flicking to my chest making me glance down as well so see my tit almost out of my night time vest. I shifted the fabric and he cleared his throat, looking back up.

"I didn't run anywhere." I countered and his eyes rolled. Honestly, for a thousand years old he sure was sassy.

"No of course not. You gracefully levitated out of the window, honestly you make quite the stereotype for a witch. Tarot cards, floating and, oh look a black cat." He scoffed and I leant down, picking up Salem before she could get out and into his grasp.

"Why are you here?" I asked and he hummed.

"I need your powers, come to the abattoir." He demanded and I put a hand on my hip.

"I do hope you're joking." I told him and his jaw went tight.

"I don't have much time for this back and forth, love. It's fun, yes and you're very cute but I will resort to less verbal persuasion if you cannot do as you are told." His tone got progressively lower, darker.

"Get off my porch. I'll be there in half an hour." I muttered, slamming the door back in his face.

"Twenty minutes, love!" He yelled through the wood.

I couldn't be bothered with this. The tarot card readings were low for me but they still made me money so now I was just missing out and I couldn't afford not to pay my bills. Besides, Salem needed her food too and she definitely wouldn't go without.

I got to the compound after forty minutes, mostly out of pettiness however I did shower, shave dry my hair, style my hair, get dressed, have a breakfast bar and feed Salem so time added up quick. Those weren't good enough excuses for a pissy hybrid.

His eyes were dark, sort of how I imagined the depths of the ocean at night as he watched me. I was a little different in how my magic worked.

I didn't need to do all the muttering and straining unless it was a really difficult spell like raising the dead, I think that's what sparked Klaus's interest. That I didn't pull out a hundred spell books, flipping relentlessly through the pages to pick the spell he needed. I could sense what he needed, almost read the spell from his mind to use it like he wanted.

I got up to leave once I was done but his hand was around my arm, keeping me to him. I knew he was half werewolf which made his skin warm but the heat rolling off of him was almost concerning. The golden look in his eyes put me on edge but he wasn't threatening, yet.

"I need something else-"

"I need to get to my job, where I get paid." I cut him off and he huffed softly, almost playfully as the corners of his lips upturned slightly. A hundred dollar bill was wedged very provocatively between my tits. I bit the tip of my tongue before raising my eyes to look at his cocky expression.

"I swear to all of the unholy spirits that if you ever put your grubby little hands on my body again I'm gonna burn your dick off." I warned him, my eyes narrowed and voice low but he only smirked and pushed me backwards so his body trapped me to the wall.

His face lowered to mine, his nose brushing up the side of my jugular before his breath was against my ear. "Mmm, how have you managed to make that sound so hot?" He murmured and I scoffed, shoving off me with a slight force making his chuckle.

"Don't be a freak, Klaus. You'll make me vomit." I whispered, my nose scrunched up as if I could actually find him repulsive. Stupid handsome face.

My body ached slightly when his pulled away from mine and his fingertips skimmed over my sides before leaving me completely.

"I'll be needing you a lot more often from now on. I'll pay you whatever you want. A thousand dollars an hour for all I care." He offered and I could feel my ethics at question. I'd be against the coven if I was willingly working for the beast but a thousand dollars was a fuck tonne to turn down.

"I have to get back to Salem." I muttered and he let out a deep chuckle making my eyes roll as I walked off.

"Oh come on, love. You have to admit that it's a little traditional, no? You're practically mocking your own kind-"

"Oh piss off mr 'i spent a thousand years trying to be a dog'." I snapped back as he followed me out of the compound and into the streets. "Rumour has it you've literally only turned once. I think if anyone's mocking their kind its you."

"Touché." He accepted, his tone weirdly light and he had a shrug to his shoulders. "I should turn more often, that's fair." He nodded, keeping up with my quickening pace but as soon as we got around a corner I was pinned to the wall by the throat. "But don't you ever, ever- talk down to me like that or you will very much be reminded of your place, witch." He growled and I felt my magic flaring, just begging to light him on fire but I let him keep the upper hand as he placed me back down onto my feet.

I turned on my heel and kept walking, forcing myself not to gasp for air and just struggle slightly. His footsteps remained just behind me, he was much more relaxed than I was and it was pissing me off as we got to my house.

The soft meow of Salem's voice echoed form behind the door and her paw made a soft sound which made my body sink back from the tension. But my body went rigid when Klaus's hand turned the handle to my front door and he walked right on inside, leaning down and picking up Salem as he did.

My eyes flicked down at the threshold he had just completely discarded before locking on Salem as she purred in his hands. One twist of those hands and her head would pop off her her neck.

The imagine alone made me react. His heart was in his chest one second and on my hallway floor the next. Salem landed on her feet with a mewl and padded off to the kitchen whilst I was left with the heavy thud of Klaus's body.

"Fuck!" I breathed as I ran my hands over my hair and groaned dramatically. I moved him to the living room and tied him up with a magically finding rope, ensuring he would stay put as I cleaned away the blood from his heart and fixed Salem some food.

His groggy grumble made it's way into the kitchen, forcing me to face my problems as I came to the doorway of my living room. He looked a little bit pissed but mostly amused which relieved me to extent but annoyed me even more.

"Very kinky, love." He mused as he tugged on the ropes. His eyes cast down at the bloody stain across his shirt before flickering past my ankles, probably to where Salem was feeding from her bowl. "Had I have known that damn cat was quite a sore subject for you then I wouldn't have picked the thing up-"

"How did you get into my house?" I asked and he smirked.

"I think you mean my house, my love. I thought it would be easier for us if I owned the building, means we can both have access and I can come collect you easier." He smiled as if it were a friendly thing to do.

"You're fucking crazy. A full on whack job." I muttered. "I'm not your witch, I'm not your pet. You do not claim my house and pick up Salem- you stop touching my life. Get out and leave me alone!" I yelled and with that his body was gone, instead at least a couple hundred tiny pieces of him exploded across my living room floor and walls.

I forced myself to breathe steady, my eyes closing for a second before I let out an angry cry of frustration and got my magic under control. Bit by bit I managed to pile him together, clean the marks away and put him in a bin bag, then transferring his remains back to the abattoir for them to fix themselves back together.

It was surprising that Klaus hadn't burst my house down and tore my head off in retaliation to be completely honest.

However, for whatever reason, the next time I saw him, he was all cheerful and charming again like normal.

"Come on now, love, don't be all grumpy with me still because of our little mishap." He teased, following me closely as I moved through the streets quickly. "I didn't mean to push it with the cat, love. I'll admit that was my fault, I crossed the line." He murmured, his lips so close to my ear it made my skin burn.

I continued to ignore him, trying to get on with my day without his constant chatter but he just seemed to be there all day long, keeping customers away and effectively ruining my time.

Once it grew dark I let out a sigh and leaned back, staring mindlessly at the sheer lack of cash in my pot. His hand brushed the hair behind my ear and stroked the side of my neck.

"Klaus." I warned with a sigh and he hummed lowly, his lips moving to kiss the spot below my ear making me let out a scoff and shove him off me. "You are like an animal. Go fuck someone who actually wants something to do with you." I snapped and he let out a soft chuckle.

"You know I have extremely heightened senses, love? I can practically taste how turned-on you get around me-" He purred and I gagged.

"That's just your perverted mind playing tricks on you." I scoffed and he hummed.

"All this sass because you didn't get your money, love? I told you I'd pay your rates." He tutted before his fingers were plucking hundred dollar bills from his wallet and putting them in my jar. "There, now you're all caught up and you can stop looking so glum."

"I don't want your money, I don't want your time, I don't want you!" My voice raised and his lips twitched.

"You'll be more than willing before long, love. I'm very much looking forward to you giving in, I already know you'll be absolutely exquisite-"

I cut him off abruptly, my palm colliding with his cheek without a second thought. The action made me just as surprised as him, both of us staring at each other for a long moment. I could see his jaw clenching, his eyes hardening fraction by fraction.

He straightened in his seat, inhaling and exhaling as his eyes darted away. He was urging himself not to lash back at me.

His hands hit the table, hard as he stood. I flinched in my seat but didn't go to move, just watched him. I watched as he paced up and down the length of the small room before storming out.

I blew out a breath of relief at the slam of the door and sunk down into the chair.

Klaus didn't come around for a small while after that. I probably should have been thrilled not to be haunted by him each day. I was finally making some money again and didn't have to worry about Salem being catnapped or whatever.

Until he woke me up in the middle of the night, banging so hard against my front door I was surprised it hadn't caved in. I swung it open, ready to launch him off my porch when my eyes took him in.

"Oh fuck." I mumbled, my hands moving without my consent to pull the blood-soaked henley away from his skin. "Okay, come on." I whispered, pulling him inside, Salem mewing and pawing at his boots as we climbed the stairs.

He was sat shirtless on top of the toilet seat, his bloody hands in his lap whilst I wiped away the red across his chest, neck and face. The hot tap of the bath was running quickly, filling fast. I'd wanted him out of my life from the second he pushed his way into it and yet for some reason I was worried about him and looking after him as though I cared for him. But surely that was ridiculous, he was a menace in my life.

I just couldn't help myself.

His clothes were in my washer, I was scrubbing the blood and mud off of my floors and the stairs banister before going up to my room to dig out a shirt of mine he could sleep in and some oversized sweatpants that he could wear for the night.

They were a little tight. My bad.

I don't think he was in much a mood to complain though as the shirt clung to his skin, I shouldn't have been looking at the definition of his muscles so much. Not when he was so upset.

He was a lot easier to handle when he was like that though.

No cocky remarks, no touching, just raw and vulnerable. For once he wasn't Klaus the hybrid, just Klaus.

"You're gonna have to talk to me tomorrow, okay?" I whispered as he rest his head against my shoulder, it was obvious he was debating using my breast as a pillow but he made the wise decision to not push his luck.

By morning he'd managed to get there though. His face was nestled right against me, his eyelashes brushing over my skin with each subtle blink. With slight reluctance I gently slid my fingers into his hair, gently scratching his scalp.

Salem was asleep on top of the covers, on him. Her whole body vibrating against him as she purred.

"We're gonna get up soon and you're gonna talk." I murmured but kept my tone soft for now. "You can't just turn up at my house covered in blood and not tell me, okay?"

His body shifted slightly, his face pressing further into my chest making me suppress an eye roll but I kept it at bay. He was delicate at the moment and a lot more likely to do something extreme if pushed.

"I didn't have anywhere else to go." He whispered and my fingers stuttered against his head before resuming their pattern. He was such a conflicting person.

It only took a couple days before he was back to his old self, turning up unannounced to my work and disrupting my every day but I don't know. Just knowing that he did definitely have that human side of him made him less threatening.

It didn't help that Salem had started sitting on his lap when he was over. He'd learnt just the spot under her ears that would make her love him. Honestly it was ridiculous how simply he could insert himself with no consequences. Pissed me off.

"Klaus, get out." I called from my kitchen, currently stood over the stove and stirring the pot of gumbo I'd been cooking. I could sense him in the hallway, making his way in, boots already off.

"Don't get so angsty so soon love. I haven't even said anything." The amusement on his tone wasn't hidden at all. I huffed loudly and put the lid back on the pot. "Smells divine, my sweet." He smirked, brows rising.

"What do you want?" I sighed. I just couldn't be bothered to deal with his drama.

"Only your company." He murmured, head lowering but eyes darkening. "Won't you invite me to stay for dinner?" He asked and I scoffed.

"Since when have you needed to be invited to anything ever?"

"You make a fair point love but it's nicer to be wanted now isn't it?" He shrugged and got closer, leaning completely past and over my to lift the lid of the pot and get a proper whiff. His body pressed against mine, pushing me against the front of the oven. I sucked in a breath, trying not to let him bother me as he slowly pulled back, his face inches from mine as his eyes glanced over my face. "So?" He pressed. "Am I welcome to stay?"

My jaw ticked and my fingers twitched but eventually I relented. "Fine, whatever. But you better actually tell me what you want because I know you aren't here for some dinner."

"You'd be surprised." He mused before sitting down at the table and picking Salem up to place her on his lap.

While we were eating he revealed the spell he was actually here for. So soon enough we were back in the main room with candles everywhere, sat facing each other on the floor and holding hands so I could use his energy as well as mine.

"You know love, under slightly different circumstances this could be a very romantic setting." He purred whilst I murmured the chant under my breath. His statement made me pause and sigh.

"You know Klaus, maybe it would be if you would shut up and let me finish." I snapped and he chuckled.

"Oh I can't wait to see how you behave in bed." I ended up muting him for the rest of the evening. It was comical to see how desperately he needed to say something every half a second.

By the time I'd done what he needed and gotten him back to the doorway, I finally let his sound come back. He cleared his throat and looked up at me with a look of annoyance before his expression shift back to his usual half smile. "As much as I may hope, I think it's quite clear that you won't be inviting me to stay the night." He teased and I hummed in agreement.

"Goodnight Klaus." I pressed, opening the door for him.

"Goodnight, love."

Klaus was arrogant and narcissistic and possibly one of the most selfish beings I'd ever had the displeasure of meeting and yet somehow I ended up looking for the goodness in him.

What was worse was that sometimes I found it.

Just a glimpse of light when he'd smile, the gold in his hair when his hands would push it back. The shimmer in his eyes when he held his hand out for me to channel him.

I don't really know when it started to happen but I ended up not hating him. We both realised that when I did actually invite him to stay for dinner.

The upturn of his lips and the way his head went down made me realise my mistake. But it was too late to undo, he was already sat at the table and talking away.

Once he'd eaten and managed to get the wine out of my cupboard, we ended up in the living room. Him with Salem back on his lap and purring away blissfully. His fingers were hidden within her fur whilst his legs stretched out across the sofa, as if it were his home as well as mine. This time I didn't complain about it.

The night got old quick and after a few glasses of wine I decided it was time for bed.

"If you wanted me upstairs you should have said so sooner, love." He grinned and my eyes rolled as we both rose, Salem jumping down and brushing around my ankles. By the time my gaze settled back on him he was only inches away, his hands making their way to my sides.

"Klaus." I muttered, shifting slightly when his palms pressed to my waist. The light buzz of the alcohol made his touch feel like pure warmth, he felt like the sun. I could feel my eyes shutting, the heat of his mouth against my forehead in from of a soft kiss.

"Thank you," He murmured, the word sounding so foreign on his tongue, "For inviting me." My body tensed and softened when his arms slid round me. It was only a second before I was feeling the definition of his back beneath my fingers.

His lips kissed my cheek before hovering just before my mouth. I knew I shouldn't have, but I did it anyway.

I should have known one wouldn't have been enough.

[windienine]

like most humans i have a pretty nuanced personality that can be easily barnum'd and as a young teen i was pretty open to astrology, mbti, and any other horsepiss that made me feel like i could rely on a higher power or a sorting system to help me get my shit together during a really stressful time. i regularly worsened my ocd by coordinating the appropriate healing crystal pendant for the corresponding day, hour, and moon phase, but the impetus for this was less specifically a suburban mom wellness scam thing (though this was where i sourced my finds) and more that i had extreme chuuni energy throughout my middle school years and was waiting for the correct magic crystal, hidden tarot deck, or dusty grimoire to grant me my magical wings and talking animal companion

anyway a friend did a double take at me when i nodded about their jewelry retail woes and went "yeah the moms buy amethyst for focus like hotcakes i used to press a geode to my head at age fourteen to try and treat my ocd before i knew i had ocd."

anyway anyway the actual interesting thing about amethyst is that it's purple because of iron impurities in the quartz structure

[rufusthebringer]

One of my favourite random Fallout trivia is that in official Fallout Tarot Card Deck, The Tower card is represented by Paladin Danse. They knew what they were doing. Also their artstyle sucks.

Tower card meaning:

When The Tower card appears in a Tarot reading, expect the unexpected – massive change, upheaval, destruction and chaos. It may be a divorce, death of a loved one, financial failure, health problems, natural disaster, job loss or any event that shakes you to your core, affecting you spiritually, mentally and physically. There’s no escaping it. Change is here to tear things up, create chaos and destroy everything in its path.

Just when you think you’re safe and comfortable, a Tower moment hits and throws you for a loop. A lightning bolt of clarity and insight cuts through the lies and illusions you have been telling yourself, and now the truth comes to light. Your world may come crashing down before you, in ways you could never have imagined as you realize that you have been building your life on unstable foundations – false assumptions, mistruths, illusions, blatant lies, and so on. Everything you thought to be true has turned on its head. You are now questioning what is real and what is not; what you can rely upon and what you cannot trust. This can be very confusing and disorienting, especially when your core belief systems are challenged. But over time, you will come to see that your original beliefs were built on a false understanding, and your new belief systems are more representative of reality.

The best way forward is to let this structure self-destruct so you can re-build and re-focus. And let’s be real – with a card like The Tower, you have no choice but to surrender to the destruction and chaos, no matter how unwanted or painful. Change on this deep level is hard, but you need to trust that life is happening FOR you, not TO you and this is all for a reason. This destruction will allow new growth to emerge and your soul can evolve.

[crimson-and-clover-1717]

Stede Bonnet and the Subversive Shirt

In season one, despite the colours, lace, and detailing, Stede’s dress is mostly conformist in cut and style. His shirts are high-buttoned, cravated, and do not show much flesh below his chin. Coupled with the pantaloon and waistcoat, Stede’s wearing the clothes of traditional masculine presentation of his era.

There are times Stede’s clothing becomes less formal. During the sword practice with Ed in 106, Stede’s shirt is open and the cravat loosened. Again, in 107 we see Stede in his open nightclothes wandering on deck. During evening story hour, his jacket is removed. Stede usually seems more relaxed during these moments too.

Stede’s style changes properly on the second leaving of Bridgetown. What Stede is wearing openly as he drags the boat to sea is a rather romantic poet-pirate look with billowing shirt and sash. The look has links with future nineteenth-century Romantic freethinkers, championing individualism, revolution and liberty - including sexual liberation.

The open-neck shirt was popularised by Byron and Shelley a hundred years later. It was a deliberate choice of styling in opposition to enforced gender presentation and monogamous heteronormativity. The fashion of the times, similar to the 1700s, was high collars and neck-wrapping in order to force the holding of the male head in a stately and erect manner. It’s all about rigidity…

For an English gentleman of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, to have his shirt open and loose in public, was a sign of effeminacy. It was women who showed their décolletage in society, who were allowed a softer presentation; this new style hinted strongly at sexual and gender nonconformity. Women were viewed as more animalistic, men as cultured. Cultured people cover up. Softness, looseness - these are aspects of female sexuality, a bit bestial. And women are also a little bit insane. Why would any man, especially a man of status, want to present as feminine and lesser? And what does it say about patriarchy if some men actively choose to relinquish their privileged status by presenting more effeminately? It’s dangerous.

By today’s standards, Byron was pansexual and polyamorous. Shelley’s sexuality is less clear, but he was viewed as a subversive atheist and disinherited. Both might consider themselves nonbinary today. Shelley especially seems to have had a strong gnc presentation. Both left England for more liberal Europe.

I feel the costume department must’ve made a very deliberate and informed choice regarding Stede’s shirts post season one, but I don’t feel it’s the one some people think it is. I know part of DJenks stated aim was to ‘make Rhys Darby as sexy as possible’, but it’s not about appearing more masc. just because he’s showing more flesh. It’s about appearing more Stede. Stede is expressing a new-found confidence in his sexual identity and gender expression, by choosing a more freer, less structured, less traditionally masculine way of dressing, associated rather presciently with future Romantic liberalism. It seems poets and pirates have more in common than we realise. And both were considered dangerous for questioning the system.

However, Stede is also an individual in flux and he circles back to a part of his former self. The Red Suit is a sort of hybrid male/female costume. The cuffs, detailing and shirt itself are femme. But there are elements of traditional masculinity which are quite toxic. The epaulettes reinforce the inverted masculine triangular shape. Anyone who grew up in the 1980s will remember their mothers feeling forced to wear exaggerated shoulder-padding as they entered male-dominated workspaces. They also enforce military rank. Stede thinks he needs this imagery to ‘be the Captain’. He doesn’t. The exaggerated coattails are also absolutely synonymous with upper class male power. It’s masculinity as performance and power-play. Stede needs to let all of this cursed patriarchal nonsense go.

As so often’s the case in OFMD, external struggle, this time with the crew over the Red Suit, could also be a manifestation of Stede’s internal conflict and shifting identity. It’s a final letting go of patriarchal ideas, especially around captaincy. The crew certainly don’t want it. Stede is (more than) adequate just as he is. At the end of all the pushing and pulling, Stede keeps the most relevant bit of the outfit - the shirt. It’s the least restrictive part, the more feminine and therefore, the more subversive on a male body. It’s a sartorial representation of a changing Stede.

The three shirts worn in series two are deliberately opened-collared and low-cut, showing more and more of Stede’s chest. This is a traditional feminine aesthetic which historically on a man, at least in the anglosphere, was considered subversive and dangerous. And Stede couples his shirts with a different sort of masculinity, a leather trouser. Class-wise, this is a traditional working man’s garment. Through his new choice of clothing, Stede is rejecting entirely his previous role within patriarchal hegemony, both the imposed status and imposed gender norms.

This was in my drafts a while but inspired to try and pull it together by @celluloidbroomcloset posts here and here

[vexwerewolf]

-- SSC Death’s Head @ LL6 -- [ LICENSES ] SSC Death’s Head 3, IPS-N Tortuga 3 [ CORE BONUSES ] Reinforced Frame, Full Subjectivity Sync [ TALENTS ] Heavy Gunner 3, Vanguard 3, Grease Monkey 3 [ STATS ] HULL:4 AGI:2 SYS:0 ENGI:2 STRUCTURE:4 HP:26 ARMOR:0 STRESS:4 HEATCAP:8 REPAIR:4 TECH ATK:0 LIMITED:+1 SPD:6 EVA:14 EDEF:8 SENSE:20 SAVE:13 [ WEAPONS ] MAIN/AUX MOUNT: Deck-Sweeper Automatic Shotgun / Pistol HEAVY MOUNT: Railgun [ SYSTEMS ] Personalizations, HyperDense Armor, Kinetic Compensator, High-Stress Mag Clamps, Pattern-A Smoke Charges x4

I call this build "Tungsten Peashooter," the logical opposite of "Glass Cannon." It takes advantage of a very specific rules non-interaction: "half damage" effects don't stack.

HyperDense Armor gives you resistance to all damage from beyond of Range 3, in exchange your you dealing half damage to targets beyond Range 3. Heavy Gunner 3 allows you to mark two targets and attack them with your heavy mount when they move, at half damage. But these effects don't combine, so there's no additional penalty.

[direquail]

My specific read on John is not that he's a nice guy, either. It's that, like any good character (specifically a tragic character, which, TM has said that he is modeled on a mythical tragic hero, so) he has a flaw that dooms him. And what that means is, when he has the choice to change what he's doing, that flaw either prevents him from taking the option he's aware of, or prevents him from being aware that there is another option altogether.

And so as a writer, what I look for are moments where either:

something good about a character becomes an excess that harms themselves or others

we receive information that shows a persistent blind spot a character has

we look for times when a character gives their view of the world/a situation and it Does Not Match Up with reality, or is hinted that it doesn't

we look for evidence of something simmering under the surface that clashes with their outward, agreeable presentation

What fills that role for John?

Yep.

When this first pops up, it's pretty easily dismissed as yet another layer on the falsehood he's propped up. Admittedly, he's been doing it for ten thousand years, so it's probably got a few layers to it.

However:

This one, to me, gives us a hint about what John is blind to: That his friends see his vindictiveness and his failings and that they could still love him. This is where it crosses into tragedy, for me; where his own inability to forgive blinds him to the capacity that other people have for generosity--and so, to a world where "justice" means more than "vengeance for the dead".

And this illuminates the whole chain of events that leads him to that climactic scene in Harrow the Ninth, telling Mercy that she never would have forgiven him anyways:

John is, at heart, deeply angry--like most characters in the series, and like a lot of people who grew up in poverty, especially if they managed to escape it. He also has some deep sense of justice, and deep sense of judgment.

So we have this cycle of related emotions and ideas: Justice, judgment, outrage. And a human measure of selfishness, amorality, double standards, etc.

In one situation, this allows him to throw himself completely into the cryo project, something that (if it hadn't been sabotaged politically) could have made a difference to humanity. He brings in people who work to make it even better, who demonstrably want to make the outcome as just and humane as possible. It's also implied that this is part of why he received those powers; "I chose you to change."

(And, I'll be honest, one of the other things that I see that chafes me is the implication that there was nothing about John to recommend him to the Earth. I'm actually of the opinion that there was; she chose him, and I don't think she just rolled a d100 or drew a card off a tarot deck and called him up. John is also still a human, flawed person.)

Then, the situation changes. It's no longer an issue of dedicating expertise to solve a problem; this is a political issue, and specifically of rich people using their resources to shift outcomes towards the one they think will benefit them the most, that will secure their survival, explicitly at the expense of everyone else.

And their strategy is, profoundly: short-sighted and unnecessary (pooling resources would help create a better outcome for everyone, including the rich, by reducing global trauma and preserving more of the systems that already structure their world); bigoted and uninformed (many rich people think that the world has to be a certain way, generally that the world is violent, competitive, dog-eat-dog, etc., and someone has to be "on top", and there will always have to be a loser, or lots of losers); and utterly cruel, unjust, and pointless.

And John--John, who grew up poor, who grew up aware of the despair around him and the injustice of his position and more than likely made use of that anger to achieve what he had up to this point--John is so angry.

Because they're all the same. They're all the same. It's the same song, over and over again, no matter how stupid and pointless and unnecessary. He is certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it doesn't have to be this way. He passes judgment.

But John is losing to them, because he doesn't have the resources they do. He can hate them and fight them all he wants, and it doesn't matter, because he's nowhere near in the same league as they are politically.

And then, after the cryo project is cancelled, he gains his powers.

The thing about anger and judgment is that the deeper it runs, often, the more invested the person who holds that anger in themselves is in not seeing what they hate in themselves. E.g: John has conceptualized the people he's resisting as fundamentally unjust, cruel, amoral, and bigoted. There's a very good chance--to different degrees, depending on the person--that becoming aware of similar traits in himself might wake up those feelings he has towards those other people--aimed at himself (that is, cognitive dissonance). He can't see the things he's passed judgment on in himself and function. He's not like them; he's trying to fix things, to bring about justice.

Of course, there's justice as in "living in a just society", and justice as in "justice for the dead". But that's a later realization, because right now, everyone is still alive.

So John hides those parts of himself; from himself, from other people. So thoroughly he can exclude it from his consciousness and pretend it doesn't exist. He thinks no one sees the real depth of his own rage, his own cutthroat pursuit of a solution. And then, when he can't pretend it doesn't exist, he can still pretend to be the man he thinks they need him to be. He can "fool" them. He can say--he's trying. He screwed up. He doesn't know what he's doing.

And then, Casseiopeia says, No, actually, we know you, and we know you're horribly vindictive. And we're on your side--we're on the same side--our fight is your fight--and we love you. But your drive for revenge is seriously limiting your ability to imagine and create a living, just world, and that's what we're fighting for. Remember? That's what we set out to create.

And John's brain can't quite handle this; he can't imagine that they could actually see him and still be on his side. Because he couldn't see that and still be on his side. He can't forgive; he can't imagine forgiveness.

He can't see the things he's passed judgment on in himself and function.

And, by this stage, in some ways, it's already too late to change course. But this is one of several "come to Jesus" (no pun intended) moments where John could become aware of alternatives, or could change his behavior--and doesn't.

And I think this is where we get that self-awareness from, the thing that makes him creepy and tragic but also infuriating: He is aware, but apparently that's not enough to stop him from being his worst self--so is he just pretending to be moral? Capable of making different choices but choosing not to? And the weird statements he makes later:

This is, imo, not a power-hungry dictator who genuinely doesn't care about the cost of his throne, or a gleefully predatory abuser. This is a dude who's committed to a course of action and doesn't feel great about it. This is a guy who has violated his own sense of justice and has to live with it.

This is a guy who set out to save the world, killed it, and now the only thing that's left to him is to avenge it.

And like, from a mythology standpoint, that is exactly what the Erinyes are, like the Furies and Alecto. They are not the justice of Apollo or Athena. They are screaming for blood. They are hunting their quarry to the ends of the universe. They are chthonic.

Again: This isn't what Cassieopeia or Christabel said to him. This is what John has said to himself. This came from him. This is a reflection of what he believes.

And it encapsulates, exactly, why he erased their memories. Why he took away their agency.

The difference between him and many, many people is he had the power of a god and no one to check him when he was struggling with his own worst impulses. And then, he created a world where no one could, not just because then he could do what he wanted and pretend to be kind and loving and moral, but so that he would never have to lose the love of the people he needed.

Because, unfortunately, he still needed them.

It just took ten thousand years for the lie to unravel.

[irisintheafterglow]

Parley? (opla!zoro x you)

summary: a stranger arrives to disturb your peace and you have no choice but to negotiate with him.

wc: 2.57k

cw/tags: first meeting, swearing, mentions of canon-typical violence including blood and swords, zoro doesn't know how to express his feelings

note: i'm so nervous posting this ngl because i really like zoro as a character but i'm scared that i'm not gonna do him justice since i don't know him as well as gojo or geto or bakugo etc etc etc. hopefully all yall zoro girlies like this because i've been itching to write for him since my explore page became nothing but mackenyu. enjoy!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

You hear the chimes first. The melody is soft, nearly imperceptible to the untrained ear, but you sense it. After all, you were the one who tied the string under the walkway floorboards in such a way that the bells above your window would clink if something pressed down on the wood. Over time, you learned to identify where outside was being pushed based on more strings and bells. It made it easier to find the Lady, on the rare occasion she stepped into open air and you weren’t with her. However, whoever was now setting off your makeshift alarm system had footsteps unlike the usual occupants of the house. The quietness of the notes was unsettling, in a way, because it meant they were creeping around the house. Someone didn’t want to be heard. 

It was the flowers next, the roses with uniquely reflective petals that were especially good at bouncing moonlight precisely through your window. The Lady commented one day in the market that she’d taken a liking to that particular flower, and you bought the vendor’s entire stock to plant around the house once you realized how it could be used. Not before you built a crow’s nest-like window, first. The glass structure jut out of the house in just the right way that you received colors from the left, right, and front of the house. Had an intruder approached from the back, your only blindspot, you would hear the more insistent clicks of the typewriter keys attached to the outside deck panels. The nearly noiseless bells and the ominous shadow sneaking across your wall were enough to snap you wide awake. 

The soles of your feet meet cool stone as you slide from under the covers, wrapping the sheath of your saber around your waist and slipping out of your bedroom. Despite the darkness of the hallway, your legs move by memory to the Lady’s chambers only to find the door already ajar. 

Shit. Were you too late?

Slinking into the room in one graceful stride, words leave your mouth without thinking when you see him standing over your Lady, holding two deadly-looking swords. 

“Taking a life halfway gone is immoral no matter the bounty, pirate hunter.” His head snaps in your direction and you have your blade on him before he can blink, resting the point lightly but threateningly against his throat. His eyes narrow on you challengingly and you put ever so slightly more pressure into your hilt, forcing him to surrender and sheath both swords. The third, you note, remains undrawn on his hip. “No better targets to pursue than a retiree? I expected better from the demon of the East Blue.” His gaze remains unchanging while you step forward, inching him backward until his head hits the wall with a soft thud. You were thankful, for once, that the Lady was starting to lose her hearing and was always a deep sleeper. 

“She’s wanted,” he says in a low tone. 

“She’s withered,” you retort. “Killing her advances justice no more than leaving her alive.” His face is still unreadable, void of any emotions just as the rumors conveyed. Many tales circulated of the infamous pirate hunter, but you chose to believe the Lady to be far too irrelevant to pose any real threat to the Marines. As one of the last known powerhouses of the Gold Roger era, it was more likely her wanted poster would be drowned out amongst younger hotshot pirates than for her to become an actual target. And yet, here was the most feared bounty hunter in the seas, hunting down a myth that many assumed was already six feet under. And for what, fun? 

“It doesn’t matter. Honor is a courtesy denied to killers.” He speaks in a way like you wouldn’t understand his ideas, and it sends a white-hot flash of anger racing through your veins. 

“Ooh, yes. You’re being so honorable by julienning a defenseless old woman while she sleeps.” To your surprise, he flinches, unwillingly bringing your eyes to corded muscle and flexed biceps. It’s a bit of a struggle to refocus on the task at hand. “Enlighten me on how this makes you feel vindicated.” 

“I kill pirates for a living,” he states simply, nodding over to the slumbering mass under the thick comforter. The tip of your sword follows every movement he makes, careful not to give him an opening to strike. Unexpectedly, he seems almost relaxed, like the weapon at his throat was the least of his worries. “That woman is a pirate.”

“That woman was a pirate. She is no longer the ‘Captain Indigo’ you seek.” 

“Who is she now, then?”

“Lady Lavender, adored by her constituents and far removed from a life of piracy. If I weren’t on the verge of spilling your organs on the carpet, I’d say visit the farmer’s market on Tuesdays. You’ll see just how different her life is now.” His chin tilts in disagreement.

“The Marines say otherwise.”

“What do you say?” A minute tilt of your wrist angles your saber so that the point now resides under his sharply defined jawline. “Hmm, hunter? Any opinions in that thick skull of yours or are you just another mindless government weapon?” 

“You understand nothing,” he mutters like an indignant teenager, looking off to the side woefully. It makes your blood boil.

“Try me,” you snarl at the green-haired stranger. In another life, you’d have thought him pretty handsome, if you weren’t so infuriated by his indifferent sense of justice. He knew nothing about you, or the Lady, or what either of you had to endure to create a sense of safety. Safety, you would add, that you weren’t going to give up easily. 

“This woman you serve, what are you to her? A caretaker? A child?” 

“A friend,” you answer cautiously. “Something your line of work would know nothing about.” 

“The Marines know that your friend murdered the former governor and seized the island in an act of desperation,” he informs you with a note of condescension. “They’ve wanted her gone for ten years, and I am here to collect her head. It’s not personal; it’s business.” The incorrectness of his information is laughable, but what concerns you more is the ease with which he talks of taking lives. 

“You don’t feel any sort of remorse for the targets you kill?” The anger in your stomach starts to rub against a different, unwanted influx of sorrow. After witnessing the change in a ruthless pirate empress, you refused to believe a human could be this heartless. 

“I don’t dwell on them long enough to care. Most of the time, they do something stupid that makes it a little easier to dispose of them.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong about her,” you recover, pressing the blade against his skin on the brink of drawing blood. He winces, squirming against the wallpaper for some sort of relief. You don’t budge. “The former mayor was a half-brother whom she reconnected with after Gold Roger’s execution. His death was caused by a misdosage of medicine used to treat hemorrhoids he’d suffered with since he was twenty. On his deathbed, he made her promise to take care of this city...” You inhale, focusing on the man in front of you. His expression is soft, nothing like you would have expected from a feared killer-for-hire. He was actually listening to you. 

“Go on.”

“And to take care of me. I have the great pirate hunter at the end of my blade, so she must not have done that bad of a job at either request.” He’s silent for a moment and you watch the cogs turn in his brain, hoping he’d find some humanity and realize that killing the Lady isn’t just pointless, it’s fundamentally wrong. 

“It doesn’t change the fact that I need money.” Nevermind, then. Backup plan it is. 

“I understand that,” you concede, and you remove your weapon from his neck. His hands are on the hilts of his swords instantly, but he doesn’t draw them. He could kill both you and the Lady in a single swing, but he doesn’t. Maybe you did reach a different side of him. “That's why I’m willing to cut you a deal.”

“I don’t make deals with pirat–” he starts, but abruptly cuts himself off when you raise your eyebrows in expectation. Did you not learn anything from what I just told you? His face contorts in confusion, as if his mind was at odds with what his body was telling him to do. After carefully schooling his expression into blankness, he stands to his full height, rolling a broad shoulder. “What’s the deal?”

“You’re aware of the Blue Ringed crew, yes?”

“Famous for their poisons, I’ve heard,” he confirms and you nod. “They cover every inch of their ship in toxins and wear special clothing to prevent contact with their skin. Makes it hard to sneak up on them.”

“Exactly. See, you’re not as uneducated as you look,” you tease and you feel your face heat when he sticks his tongue out at you. It’s so boyish and immature, in stark contrast to the handsome, god-bodied man that faces you. “I happen to have a counteragent, enough for you to get on their ship and collect three times the amount if you killed us tonight.” 

“And what would you get in return?”

“The sound of your boots walking off the property and never returning,” you whisper a little desperately, pleading with him to leave your perfect peace intact and forget this altercation ever happened. The quiet in the room as he ponders your offer is suffocating save for the gentle snores of Lady Lavender. Eventually, he takes your deal, inspecting the powder-filled vial when you bring it to him on the front porch. 

“How do I use it if it’s powder?”

“Mix it with lotion to help soak it faster into your skin. When your skin is dry, you’ll have roughly an hour to navigate the boat completely immune to the poison. It’s sweat resistant but will wash off with seawater, so take care not to get thrown overboard,” you instruct him, crossing your arms across your chest against the chilly ocean air blowing in from the south. It was breezier than normal and you regret not grabbing a sweater. Unless you wanted to freeze your ass off, you needed to finish this debacle quickly. “Kill the pirates, get your bounty, and leave us the hell alone. Deal?” 

“Fine by me.” He carefully places the vial in the pocket of his pants and begins his descent down the front walkway. Before you can turn back into the house, however, his voice reaches your ears so lightly you think you’d hallucinated it. “Stay warm.” 

He doesn’t end up keeping his side of the deal. A few days after your initial altercation, he approaches the house again in broad daylight holding a box about the size of your hand. You stare at him in disbelief, reading in the nook of your window and he has the audacity to smirk at you when he spots you looking. 

“I thought we had a deal, pirate hunter,” you remind him when you open the front door of the house. It was infuriating how good he looked for having just returned from a pursuit, dressed up in fine fabrics with his hair combed back nicely. The irony was palpable, the situation not unlike the stories the Lady told you about the numerous men who attempted to court her. They appeared at the same front door with flowers, rubies, and promises of devotion, but none of them actually wanted her heart. In contrast, you wanted to stab the heart of the idiot in front of you. 

“Stop calling me that,” he frowns and you can’t help the laugh that leaves your mouth. “My name is Roronoa Zoro–”

“Oh, sorry,” you interject and his eyebrows furrow at your lack of manners. “Am I just supposed to act like you’re my friend now? After you tried to kill my boss?” 

“I thought we were past that,” he states bluntly.

“That was four days ago.” 

“It’s enough time to move on.”

“You’re impossible.” You shake your head in disbelief, slightly puzzled at the giddy feeling in your chest when the faintest smile appears on his face. “What’s that?” You gesture to the rosewood box in his fingers. 

“Consider it an apology,” he says, holding out the box for you to take, “for bothering you the other night.” 

“How chivalrous.” You eye the box warily, still unsure about the enigmatic bounty hunter before you. “But we don’t need nor want your money.”

“It’s not money. Just open the damn box,” he grunts impatiently and you begrudgingly oblige, sliding back the top panel to reveal a bracelet. It wasn’t like any other bracelet you’d seen before, a gold chain garnished with a single deep green emerald barely the size of your pinky fingernail. It was delicate and elegant, subtle enough not to draw attention but luxurious enough to make you feel spoiled. “Do you like it?”

“I do, actually. The color is pretty,” you reply slowly, still slightly in shock. “Why green?”

“Take a wild guess.” He smirks again and your gaze flicks up to his hair. It was just as vibrant as the gemstone and he watched you carefully as the pieces clicked into place. With the bracelet, you’d be forced to think of him every time you looked at it or anything the color green. What kind of guy buys a momento for almost killing you, you had no idea.

“You didn’t need to bring me this. I thought the deal was–”

“I remember what the deal was, but I felt bad making you stand outside shivering while you explained how the counteragent functioned.” Your eyes widen slightly at his admission. He noticed you reacting to the wind, so how intensely was he watching you that night? If he sees your surprise, he doesn’t comment on it and continues to explain why he brought you the gift in the first place. “The powder worked, by the way. I snagged this from the captain’s chambers on my way out.” 

“You stole this because you saw me get cold?” He merely shrugs, clearly unbothered. 

“I mean, yeah. You looked miserable.”

“I was miserable.” He smiles slightly again, the corner of his mouth quirking in amusement. It makes your heart stutter against your wishes. “Does this mean we’re even now, pirate hunter?”

“Call me Zoro and maybe I’ll consider it.”

“You’ll consider it?” 

“Holding a sword to someone’s throat is a major transgression that can’t be forgiven so easily,” he taunts and you roll your eyes. “Let me start over, meet you properly without the involvement of weapons.”

“You really want to see me again?” He scoffs at your question as if the answer wasn't crystal clear.

“What, bringing you a bracelet wasn’t obvious enough? I’ll have to bring the entire ship next time. Might take a little longer to get back to you.”

“Get off my porch, Roronoa Zoro,” you laugh, reaching out to push his shoulder away and feeling every inch of his skin against your fingers in the brief moment your bodies touch. “Don’t come back unless you have something important to say.” 

“I think you’ll soon find out what I prioritize as important.”

[cozycottagetarot]

What Do They Daydream About You?

How To Pick A Pile:

Everyone has their own technique for choosing a 'pile'. My recommendation is to clear your mind and focus on each image for a few seconds. The image you find yourself coming back to even when you focus on the other images is the pile for you.

Quick notes on this reading:

I'm experimenting with a different style. -- I've been working on shorter, less structured, formal pacs (and some longer ones). I'm not sure how I feel about it but I'd like to hear your thoughts too!

I apologise for any errors. -- My immune system and I have literally been at war for weeks, so know if there are any errors, I probably missed it while wincing in pain. 😅

It's purely for entertainment purposes. -- Don't think I need to explain more. Take what resonates be it all of it, some of it or none at all.

PILE 1

14:44 as I pulled the last card, maybe 444 is of importance to you at the moment. Knight in shining armour vibes. Noble acts or intentions of just sweeping you off your feet. Introducing you to their friends and or family. Daydreams of big celebrations of being with you, internally and externally. For some, they daydream about celebrating the news of having a child with you. Finding peace after long struggles... starting anew with you. Domestic bliss, as in chilling at home with someone you love, not doing much of anything. Or simply enjoying the mundane tasks together. Going for walks. Having a cup of tea or coffee together. Peppering your skin with kisses... maybe physical touch is their love language. The ghost of their fingertips on your skin. Heart-to-heart conversations. Falling into a routine with you. The magic of embarking on new beginnings with you.

PILE 2

North Star Vibes. Holding out hope that they make it to you. Trying to make life better so they can show up for you. They daydream about how you make them stronger, about you being a good influence on them. It's like the thought of you soothes them when they're struggling. Dreaming that happiness is coming in the form of you. Lots of fiery energy. You're a symbol of hope. Rediscovering what they had lost with you. Feels like someone who has been through a lot. Playfulness. Daydreaming about you is embodying those feelings that seem long forgotten. I know I keep repeating the same thing over and over, but I'm not getting anything more than that (even when I go back to the literal meaning of the cards) so I pulled some love messages. There's the cards 'twin flame', 'finding myself' and 'still listening'. My interpretation is that daydreaming about you holds a mirror up to themselves which inspires them to look deeper within and figure out what they want and who they want to be. They could also find solace in music, they may have a song or playlist that makes them feel more connected to you.

PILE 3

If you were drawn to pile 2, consider checking out that pile as well too. 333. The number 3 could hold some sort of significance.

Dreaming of an equal. Someone to keep them balanced and bring a new perspective. They could feel as though (or know) some kind of scrutiny is possible, but they spend their time dreaming of overcoming it. There could be cultural differences or for some it's a matter of being in a same-sex relationship or anything that goes against what may be more commonly accepted. If it's of any significance, the red string of fate (two different decks mention it). Power couple vibes. Being able to maintain a sense of youthfulness in the relationship. Someone who won't try to take advantage of them, who'll push them to be better and vice versa, who'll look out for them. Someone to heal with and understand that they are still healing. They could dream of having a child with you or starting a family in whatever format that may look like to both of you. Daydreams of warmth & protection. Giving and receiving. You could possibly meet at a concert or connect over music.

PILE 4

I did a repull to make sure I was reading the cards right (it was stormy) and the same cards came out after reshuffling (minus one card). I feel like this person has been reborn. Who they were is not who they are now (or when you meet them). They could daydream of being divinely guided towards you. Someone spiritual or religious. At the very least finding a connection with something (a concept) greater than them. Daydreams of being guided towards happiness. They had a teardown and rebuild of who they are. They could be from a different location, you could meet when travelling across a large body of water. It feels like they're dreaming of coming in hot. They're paving the way for their happy ending. Take it as you will, but instead of a 'damsel in distress' (regardless of gender, it's just women on the cards depicting forging on) type of story, it's one of those ones where it's like "you know what, I'll save myself and I'll chase after my happy ending". Actually, I get a-spec vibes as well and that this person could be a platonic love or a strong platonic bond. It could even be you respectively. But the energy is one of being inspired and ever-lasting bonds. A new resolve, coming home to oneself, resting in the knowledge that the future is going to be good because you'll make it so.

[thefusioncelestial]

Mix 19: The Knightly Sea Prince

polo-drone-065 asked:

Would you do like a chav meets a posh boy

Ah, the UK, one of the longest running democracies still in existence, and yet still has a Royal Family. And it is an old one. Many treat the birth year of the British royals as 1066 when William I took control, but they go deeper being able to trace themselves back to Cerdic of Wessex. That meant that this land has been influenced by the progeny of one man for over 1500 years.

As such, England & Scotland would develop a quite rigid society on the social side of things. Your station was not determined by wealth or any actual contribution to society, but what family you are born into & who you marry with. This leads to the creation of the Nobility: scions of Kings & Queens who never took the throne, next the Aristocrats: people who got in the good graces of a monarch to receive a rank & title.

And then there was everyone else.

Unless one got into a royal government, moving up socially or economically was hard. And while the functions of everyday government was eventually handed over to the people, the previous system persisted. A stark reminder that no matter how high you climb, there is always a ceiling.

Despite the wide strides made within recent times, there are those who have yet to catch their lucky break. And within those groups is a section of of young men with poor prospects who have banded together for protection. They aren't gang members, but they are stereotyped as being socially uncouth & wearing sportswear.

Being treated as the rough unwanted members of British society has made them the perfect target. They spend a lot of time outdoors in the streets trying to find something to do between job interview or promotion failures, and with all of that untapped & unused testosterone concentrated in an given area with the masculine aspects of British culture: you get a lot physical violence. When compared to their much more pampered & curated preppy counter parts, these men tend to be more physically dominate, and without centuries of rigid structure imposed on their fighting ability like you would in say fencing, they are able to adjust better to changing conditions.

The aristocrats love this. Their society rules makes it hard to for them to have much in the way of street smarts, and the pampered lifestyle can induce other bad habits. And so untold numbers of these poor men have been captured & assimilated into the young heirs of these landed peoples.

Here is Peter Montague-Pandall:

Slated to be the 22nd Earl of Salcombe.

One wouldn't think that a small coastal resort town like Salcombe would have anyone struggling. But every place has someone who is struggling. With resort towns, most people not business owners are forced to either go into fishing, farming, or into a service role. And while there is a lot of money that flows through, the pay for onsite workers can be bad & the rich clientele are notorious bad tippers.

Most with no prospects outside of cleaning the poop deck, move out via university or the military, and this has kept the local population low. But there are some who don't even have the option.

For Peter he grew up here, his family has been here for centuries. Granted monopolies long ago for saving some medieval king in the heat of battle, their solider founder ancestor set them up for life through bravery.

But like many such families, they all, aside from those who kept a strong military service tradition, lose their edge.

The inbreeding & a couple generations of gambling addictions should have layed the Montague-Pandall's low like the Fulfords, but they were able to course correct early enough.

The Pandalls were connected enough to learn about how the nobility would occasionally assimilate the strongest palace servants or guards to strengthen the family while still keeping up the bad practices that they do. But, they did not have enough power to get one of these necklaces that facilitate this. The fountain that birthed the method in Greece was not infinite in its waters.

A new method was found among those families, and they made a plan. They would make sure that some in their respective towns & cities were kept poor & working class, and unable to move up the ladder. The strongest born of this would be used to strengthen their heirs when the time was needed.

The Pandalls had a tradition that each heir & one spare would be merged with one of these people. The end result of constantly bringing in new DNA, new ideas & perspectives, and new skills would create a long chain of Earls stronger than the last. One result of this is that the Pandalls gained an reputation for being rather hot among their peers. And on top of this, they were more liberal with who they married.

Peter was not only the top of his school's social circle due to his family, but due to his good looks. What the average person didn't know is that untold numbers of people were absorbed into his male ancestors to create this town's Adonis. And if the traditions held, his sons would be born with similar physical gifts.

The Pandells were careful on who they selected, but they eventually paired Peter up with someone.

Here is Jaxon:

He has dreams of leaving his hometown for something different. He likes to go to the beach and stare out west towards America. A land said to be of much better opportunity. But it is a land where you can also fall harder.

But Jaxon is a bit more upright about his future. He is best friends with Peter, son of the Mayor, scion of the richest family within the area.

While they don't help his family with things like bills or food, they have always made sure he was clothed. And so for among his sports clothing wearing brethren, he always had the highest quality. This of course caused conflict. His peers were jealous of this, and so he got into a lot of fights growing up. And that constant fighting forged him into a warrior.

It was the summer after graduation. Jaxon was going to join the Royal Navy. Peter was bound for Cambridge University.

Jaxon & Peter were inside Peter's bedroom. From what Jaxon understood, Peter had a graduation & parting gift for him.

Peter was at the entrance facing the door staring at the door knob. He knew what he had to do. His father did this at his age, so did his grandfather and so forth. But he liked Jaxon. Did he really have to assimilate him. He tried to persuade his father to chose someone else. Someone with no personal history.

He locked the door & turned to Jaxon who was sitting in a desk chair.

"I love you," Jaxon said. Jaxon was always straight to the point. Trying to weasel yourself out of a situation in the streets would get your teeth knocked out too often.

Peter, who was walking towards Jaxon, paused. Did he just confess to Peter.

"I do too, like a brother of course," Peter responded.

Jaxon stood up & gave Peter a hard expression that softened a little.

"I like you a bit more than that," Jaxon said.

Peter took out a small rounded cylindrical vial that contained a yellow fluid.

The fluid was how the aristocratic families without a necklace merged with others. It took some research, firstly by going to the source, and doing decades if not a century more of alchemical, and then chemistry related research. As it turned out, human to human fusion was one of the secret goals of alchemy.

Peter quickly opened the vial and swallowed the liquid.

"What is that," Jaxon asked.

"Liquid luck after what I just walked myself into," Peter said.

"Why are you confessing to me now," he asked.

"You saw how every girl in our school wanted to climb me, and yet I never responded," Jaxon replied.

"I thought being near me was enough to not get you to end up in paternity court," Peter said.

"I would gladly go to court if you were the other parent. I wanted you climb and explore me so badly, but I know someone in your position would never be able to act if you felt the same way," Jaxon said.

"You could have as-"

"Shut up my Sea Prince, I am not done. I am telling you now, because I am leaving this place. Your dad gave me the funds to travel to go to basic training. I am going to see the world, meet new people, and maybe fall in love again. Next time, with someone who isn't so blind. But I wanted to let you know that I no matter what happens after I leave town, that you will always be my first love," Jaxon said.

A silence fell the room.

"That's a lot of words coming from you," Peter said.

Peter started walking towards Jaxon. He soon face to face with Jaxon. Or he would be. Peter was 6'1. Jaxon was 6'5.

"I guess you are influencing me a little bit," Jaxon said.

This was it, maybe he could answer Jaxon's feelings through what he was about to do.

Jaxon closed his eyes & moved to kiss Peter. He was forceful about it, pressed too hard. Peter backed up a little bit, but stayed connected. Jaxon then moved to hold and caress Peter's forearms. This eventually moved into a full embrace. For Jaxon this was the first & last time he would embrace his first true love.

He let go, or tried to. His mouth wouldn't come unstuck and his hands started to sink into Peter's back. He opened his eyes quickly. He knew what Peter was trying to do. But rather than fight back, he gave in.

Peter was scared, he couldn't get a full look at Jaxon's face given his physical position relative to Jaxon's, but the eyes told all. A fierce anger like a Tiger fully committed to killing its prey after said prey tried to fight back in vain was shone through his eyes. Peter fully expected Jaxon to pull back violently and physically rip their faces, but the opposite happened.

Jaxon pushed in. It felt good too. As Jaxon moved into Peter's body, a wave of ecstasy filled his body, but that was mixed with fear. It was only a few minutes, but 60% of Jaxon was mixed into Peter. Jaxon sank more and Peter felt bloated. Their skulls had merged, and Peter lost his facial features. He was a blank skin colored canvas.

All that was left of Jaxon on the outside was his shoulders, chest, abs, & back. Peter tried moving, but it was hard. Each step pulled Jaxon in more & more. The shoulders were gone. More steps. The abs and lower back. He was now in front of his bed and as he reached it, all of Jaxon was consumed.

Peter felt weird. He didn't just feel bloated, he felt Jaxon's mass move inside him. Constantly swirling & flowing, like a river without end.

And then it happened.

Peter's body mass quickly shrunk away. Ribs sticking out, skin hanging off the bones of his arms & legs. Abs gave way to the general shape of his spine. He was like a skeleton draped in skin, but no facial features.

Peter woke up in a completely white space. He was laying on a nice sofa and he was in his fully healthy body again. He quickly undid his shirt, and his muscles were all there.

Was what just happened a dream? A nightmare? But no, he doesn't know of rooms where the area was an featureless white void. He thought about it again. Based on what he was taught by his family both directly & in his records, he was in his mind space. It dawned on him.

He really tried to assimilate his best friend & would be lover Jaxon.

Peter got out of his thoughts when he remembered Jaxon. He knew what was going on; the mental merge. Where was Jaxon?

"I AM RIGHT HERE YOU PAMPERED DONKEY OF A MAN," Jaxon yelled:

Jaxon was now visible to him. Why was he in his boxer briefs? Peter wondered.

"I had an idea of what you money grubbing, self important monsters were doing. I know of a couple of mates who disappeared, all who had help from you lot like...like," he said in an angry & then confused tone.

He couldn't remember exactly who got assimilated. As he thought harder, his memories of them faded away, moving further out of reach. This was by design. The one assimilated would face some form of historical erasure. Some completely, others had aspects of their history smashed into the intended beneficiary.

"Wait, I didn't want to do this-"

"Why didn't you just choose someone else. Pick someone else with nothing to look forward to. I had an option, your family gave it to me," Jaxon roared.

"You know how set in their ways my family can be," Peter said.

"All the help, the great treatment when I came around, and putting ideas into my head. I was just a pig for the slaughter. Tell me, my fate was sealed the moment we met wasn't it," Jaxon asked.

Peter darted his eyes away from Jaxon.

"Yes," he said sadly.

"DONT LOOK AWAY FROM ME, THAT IS NOT THE MAN I LOVE, NOT THE PERSON WORTHY OF BEING ONE WITH ME," Jaxon screamed.

Peter looked back at Jaxon. He noticed that his mental space had changed. It was now a luxury hotel. He realized what had happened.

His father set him up.

He started to become aware of his body in the real world. The emaciated look was due to Jaxon fighting back so strongly on a mental level. The process didn't know which way to go. Not until they resolved who would dominate.

Peter pulled himself together.

"Listen, I know you want to beat me to a pulp, but let me explain. We are giving you a chance," Peter said.

"If that was the case, we would be taking each other's cherries on your bed right now, but instead you tried to use me like meal supplement," Jaxon said. He was much calmer. He wanted to know of this "chance".

"Normally, people who are chosen to be assimilated are knocked out cold, chemically or physically, and then given further drugs to weaken their mental fortitude," Peter said.

"Why," Jaxon asked.

"You had a glimpse of my world, do any of the stuck up pricks I am forced to hang out with seem to have the mental strength or personality to take you guys over fairly," Peter said.

"Absolutely not, you over patted sheep break down at the simplest of inconveniences. Why wasn't this done to me? As you can see, you are doing a bad job of dominating me," Jaxon asked.

"My father probably set this up. My guess is that he wants me to earn this new me. Perhaps due to the subtle influence of whoever he absorbed. Their own way of giving you a fighting chance when they didn't," Peter said.

Peter was fully committed to letting Jaxon take over. His form of apology.

Peter got up, ready to get pummeled and be an aspect of Jaxon.

Jaxon was soon right up to Peter's face.

Those eyes were full of anger, but they soon softened into Jaxon's normal stoic face, but they were a little tinged with worry.

"You knucklehead," Jaxon said. Before Peter could respond, Jaxon kissed him again in their mental space. Unlike the last time, there was no mixing of bodies. They were soon in an embrace. They slowly fell back into the couch and made love. In each thrust from Jaxon, Peter could feel Jaxon's emotions flow into him. His love, his worry, his anger, his confusion, and his acceptance. Mentally, this lasted for hours. In the real world a few seconds.

"Did we just..., bang mentally," Peter asked.

"Another round? Want to try being the top this time," Jaxon said confidently.

Surprisingly, they did it again, but in the way Jaxon suggested.

The couch that hosted this activity twice was in shambles. Peter looked back at the mess and was blushing. He didn't know he had that DAWG in him.

"What do we do now," Jaxon asked.

"Go through that door and live your life. Don't worry about me, I will gladly sacrifice myself so that you can see the world," Peter said.

Jaxon took Peter's hand & made the rest of him follow. Before Peter could protest, they both were a few feet from the door.

"What are you doing," Peter asked.

"I am not going to do to you what you just tried to do to me my Sea Prince. Since we can't come unstuck, let's walk this new us together as equals," Jaxon said.

Peter teared up and then wiped his eyes.

"You would agree to something like that after everything," Peter asked.

"Yes, outside from trying to eat me, everything you did for me made my life more bearable. Even if I had to fight more because it made me stick out more in streets," Jaxon said.

"Your father was right in picking me, you would be useless out there without me guiding you. But once we step through this together, we will be guiding each other, or guiding the new us," Jaxon said.

Peter let out a deep breath.

They both walked through the door.

Peter didn't dominate Jaxon, and Jaxon didn't dominate Peter. This meant that they would be reborn a new person.

The mass that was Peter began to show signs of life again.

It was no longer Peter though. Peter & Jaxon decided to walk the earth as equals. It was still deciding on its name though.

A liquid flowed through it's heavily constricted veins. It was DNA. Peter & Jaxon's DNA had broke down & mixed into a new structure. This new structure was being distributed throughout its soon to be new body.

Though it had no mouth yet, it moaned.

Starting with his feet, then his legs, chest, shoulders, arms, hands, and neck loud pops could be heard in that order. Immediately following the large pops in each body part, muscle exploded in those areas.

As the buttocks grew, you could hear the noise of stretched rubber, and its jewels were big like Jaxon's, but long & girthy like Peter's. Hair grew around the base.

Its stomach expanded in waves, doubling in mass each time. Soon it stopped growing after the third wave and began to restrict. An eight pack was forming with boulders for abdominal stones.

As the skin in the stomach restricted, the rest of the body followed, the result was a more vascular body than what Jaxon had.

Jaxon & Peter were quite compatible and this resulted in a new wave of muscle growth all over that made him more massive than Jaxon as well.

The formless face began to have features again. He had Jaxon's eyes, but softer. Jaxon's skull shape, but rounder. Peter's mouth, but more flush with pink. He had a combination of their noses & eyebrows. Jaxon's chin, Peter's ears. His hair texture & color were from Peter. but the volume was from Jaxon.

He let out a loud yell like a roar.

He was breathing heavily. Then he opened his eyes. It was time to meet his father.

He busted into his father's study unannounced.

"Hello son. Which one are you. Jaxon or Peter," he asked in a monotone manner. He also took a quick glance at the hinges of the door that guard his private study. They were bent at different angles. He was belated; he had strength beyond reasoning.

"I am both. I am Owen Montague-Pandall," Owen responded.

".... Good," the father said.

"You knew, you knew they wouldn't dominate each other," Owen said.

"It was obvious that Jaxon was in love with Peter when they turned 13. The boy was stealing too many glances at Peter once puberty kicked in. I figured they would mutually...mix. A reward for both. Jaxon can live his life with Peter as one, and hopefully you will do your duty and engender the next generation in the future. Tell me, do you like girls or boys," the father asked.

Owen mused for a bit.

"Both," Owen answered. Owen turned to leave.

Good enough the father thought.

"A reward for what though," Owen asked.

"I am aware that Jaxon would defend & protect Peter when he couldn't. Peter was good with a fencing blade, but everyday street fights were not his foray. Jaxon was his knight,' the father said.

Owen continued his walk out of the room.

"Are you not going to knock me out? You sure did a number on my door. I hated that door," the father said.

Owen turned his head.

"Like you said, they found a way to make this crap sandwich into one hiding gold. I can tell you, they are humming happily deep in my subconscious," Owen said.

"Your plans for the future," the father asked.

Owen smiled and walked away. He didn't utter a word.

Owen went to Cambridge like Peter was planning to:

He would spend enough time there & then go join the navy like Jaxon wanted. He would finish school through the methods that the military allowed him to. He would be both scholar & warrior. And like Jaxon, he would get to travel the world.

He would need to. Jaxon & Peter found the easy way out by merging, but now Owen would have to find his first true love, and not try to devour them this time.

Plenty of fish, in the Navy.

He also made sure that Jaxon's original family was taken care of. No more getting eaten by some elitist idiot.

[thediormulan]

Pick a Card: Your Cosmic Self-Care Prescription

Angel Number 444 is here: protection, grounding, alignment.

Your soul doesn’t need more hustle—it needs holy hydration.

Choose the pile your higher self already circled.

The prescription has been written. Now? It’s time to take the medicine.

PILE ONE – “Silence is Your Sanctuary”

Choose this pile if you’ve been feeling overstimulated, overwhelmed, or creatively blocked.

Core Prescription: REST + SACRED STILLNESS

Cards Pulled:

• The Hermit (upright)

• New Moon in Cancer – “You and your loved ones are safe”

• The Void (Starseed Oracle)

• 4 of Swords (upright)

• Sanctuary (Oracle of the Sacred Bee)

• Goddess Temple (Reclaim Oracle)

The Message:

Your soul is parched from too much noise. Too many tabs open, too many opinions swirling, too many shoulds cluttering your garden. The Hermit walks in with that lantern of sacred silence and says, “Let’s unplug, babe.” The 4 of Swords confirms that your system needs a divine reset. This isn’t laziness—it’s spiritual recalibration.

The Void says: nothing is wrong with you for wanting to disappear for a while. You’re entering a sacred pause. This is your cocoon, not your collapse.

New Moon in Cancer soothes the inner child—your sensitivity is sacred, not a weakness. Nest. Journal. Cry. Pray. Reclaim your inner sanctuary. Goddess Temple shows up to remind you: your body is an altar. You don’t owe access to anyone.

Numerology: 4 – Foundations, inner security, sacred pause

Angel Numbers: 000, 404, 114

Astrology: Virgo + Cancer energy

Confirmation Letters: M, H, C, V

Random Channel: Someone will offer you plans, but your body will say no. That’s your permission slip.

PILE TWO – “Speak Your Soul Into the Room”

Choose this pile if you’ve been self-silencing, shrinking, or second-guessing your voice.

Core Prescription: TRUTH + THROAT CHAKRA LIBERATION

Cards Pulled:

• Queen of Swords (upright)

• Full Moon in Gemini – “The answers you need are coming”

• The Mirror (Starseed Oracle)

• Throat Chakra Oracle – “Unblock Me”

• Solar Return Card – Rebirth of Your Story

• The Mask (Archetype Oracle)

The Message:

Let’s be real—your voice has been muffled, maybe by fear, maybe by politeness, maybe by trauma. But spirit said, “You’re not here to be agreeable. You’re here to be unforgettable.” The Queen of Swords slices through all internalized censorship. She’s here with clarity, honesty, and power.

The Mask card reveals you’ve been shape-shifting too long. It’s safe to take it off now. Your power lives in truth, not performance. The Mirror says: speak to yourself like someone you adore. Your voice is sacred. Your experience is enough.

Throat Chakra Card confirms: the blockage isn’t permanent. It’s protection turned into a cage. Crack it open. Solar Return is a rebirth through your voice—a podcast, a post, a confrontation, a prayer. Choose it.

Numerology: 1 – Identity, new cycle, divine leadership

Angel Numbers: 515, 411, 1133

Astrology: Gemini + Libra energy

Confirmation Letters: R, P, S, Z

Random Channel: You’ll see a microphone or journal before this shift happens.

PILE THREE – “Structure Is Your Spell”

Choose this pile if you’ve been disconnected from your body, joy, sensuality, or divine play.

Core Prescription: PLEASURE + SACRED EMBODIMENT

Cards Pulled:

• Empress (upright)

• Venus in Pisces Transit Card

• Awakening (Starseed Oracle)

• Sacral Chakra Card – “Feel Me”

• The Bee – Sacred Work + Sweetness (Animal Oracle)

• Joy Is Your Birthright (Mantra Deck)

The Message:

Whew. Spirit said: “Stop surviving and start seducing life again.” The Empress is here with sensual power and radiant softness. Your body is not a problem—it’s a portal. This is a season to prioritize softness, beauty, and creative nectar.

The Bee is sacred—work can be sweet. Your creativity wants to dance, your inner artist wants to drip in gold, not grind. The Awakening card says the divine wants you turned on to life, not tuned out.

Sacral Chakra says reconnect with your desire, your erotic energy, your divine femininity. Paint. Cook. Take long showers. Text that man back. You’re the Empress. You don’t chase, you radiate.

Numerology: 3 – Creation, joy, divine fertility

Angel Numbers: 333, 818, 1122

Astrology: Taurus, Pisces, Libra

Confirmation Letters: D, A, L, J

Random Channel: A butterfly, a glass of wine, or a long-forgotten song will bring you back to yourself.

PILE FOUR – “Pleasure is Your Prayer”

Choose this pile if you’ve been chaotic, undisciplined, or feeling like your goals are slipping.

Core Prescription: STRUCTURE + SACRED ROUTINE

Cards Pulled:

• Knight of Pentacles (upright)

• Saturn Return – “Maturity & Mastery”

• Earth School (Starseed Oracle)

• Root Chakra – “Anchor Me”

• Discipline Is Devotion (Affirmation Oracle)

• The Mountain – Destiny Through Dedication (Oracle of Echoes)

The Message:

You’re not broken—you’re being rebuilt. The Knight of Pentacles is that steady, unsexy grind that leads to your divine destiny. You’ve outgrown chaotic manifestation. Spirit says it’s time to build slowly, intentionally, and faithfully.

Saturn Return shows up like a tough love ancestor. You’re being invited to choose commitment, to show up daily for the life you say you want. Root Chakra confirms—you’re craving safety, grounding, and real foundations.

The Mountain says: this next season is about discipline—not restriction, but devotion. Don’t ditch your rituals. Don’t ghost your vision. Repetition is the spell that changes timelines.

Numerology: 8 – Power, mastery, legacy

Angel Numbers: 444, 888, 1212

Astrology: Capricorn, Virgo, Saturn

Confirmation Letters: T, B, K, N

Random Channel: You’ll see a staircase, a contract, or a time-based challenge. That’s your signal. Rise to it.

Let me know if you want me to design the intro caption, image ideas, or captions for each pile. This reading is ready to bloom across timelines. Stay infinite, stay divine. Bisous, à bientôt.

If this reading quenched your spirit or sparked your clarity, don’t gatekeep the glow—like it, save it, and drop your pile number or confirmation letter in the comments. I’m watching for synchronicities—and your spirit team might just slide through with more tea.

Channeled by Dior Harris

Stay infinite. Stay divine.

Bisous, à bientôt.

[markrosewater]

Would you or would you not if given the opportunity, "simplify" creature types down to a few dozen. Similar to "Outlaws" of Thunder Junction where "Outlaws" are a couple creature types grouped together. But do this on a mass scale and to every creature type.

An example: Crabs, Fish, Trilobite, Otters, Starfish Jellyfish, and Sharks (and some more relevant types I'm forgetting) would all becomes "Swimming Beast" Krakens, Whale, Leviathans, Octopus, and Serpents could be "Giant Swimming Beast". Apply similar ideas to other large reaching groups of creatures types and consolidate them.

This would help solve certain creature types not seeing "attention" for long periods of time. No need to wait 10 years for your favorite Otter deck to get attention, most if not all sets could have "Swimming Beast" support. Ontop of many old, more niche synergies applying to many, new fun options.

There are pros to that system, but also cons. It’s fun introducing new creature types and using specific words has more emotional impact. Yes, Mammal typal would allow more structural support, but then you don’t get Dog typal.

[tiredandoptimistic]

RvB tarot cards

I have once again cooked up a hypothetical tarot deck for a show I enjoy. I didn't make any art because I refuse to attempt Halo armor, but here's my pitch for which RvB character I'd assign to each of the major arcana.

0-The Fool: Franklin Delano Donut. The fool symbolizes new beginnings, and someone who is so excited to be on an adventure that they stop paying attention to the dangers around them. Donut is of course known for his vibrant enthusiasm, but he may not be the most mindful person. Despite all the dangers and near death experiences he's faces though, this plucky private just keeps on being fabulous.

1-The Magician: Frank "Doc" Dufrense. The magician is a powerful character because he stands outside the limits of the four suits, much like Doc's place beyond the constructed binary of Red vs Blue. He doesn't belong wholly to any group (and his mind doesn't even belong wholly to himself), but that won't stop him from showing up every day to make people more comfortable while they die. He is an outsider who comes to help others; it's just a question of whether he can live up to his own good intentions.

2-The High Priestess: Agent North Dakota. As an almost parental figure, the high priestess is often sought for advice and encourages cooler heads to prevail. North's place amongst the Freelancers was often defined by his role as a peacekeeper, serving as an advocate for calm and reasoned thinking in the face of bizarre circumstances. It's because of this logic and empathy that he was able to recognize Freelancer's corruption and ultimately defect from the project.

3- The Empress: Agent New York. The empress is a leader not through force but through nurturing. This suits York, who was consistently one of the highest ranked and best beloved Freelancers, in large part due to his amiable personality and willingness to listen to others. He often acted as a more passive or supportive member of the group, but his defection from the program proved that he was still an independent thinker and a leader in his own right.

4- The Emperor: Agent Carolina. In contrast to their counterpart, the emperor is the leader who maintains control through strict discipline. Carolina was the head of her squad in Project Freelancer due to her raw strength and combat ability, but she often allowed this reliance on rules and structure to go too far. She not only allowed the ranking system to control her life, but she expected her place as #1 to allow her to control the lives of others. After her time with the Reds and Blues she allowed herself to loosen up a bit, but she still maintained her domineering personality and commitment to victory.

5- The Hierophant: Col. Sarge. The hierophant is another leadership card, this one coming from a person who is entrenched in a place of authority and perhaps a bit too reliant on rules and history. Sarge is certainly a creative leader in many ways, but he also depends upon the army as the arbitrator of right and wrong; focusing heavily on receiving orders and passing them on to his subordinates. Sarge isn't completely unchangeable though, and we see in season eight onwards the sort of wild maneuvers he'll cook up on his own time.

6- The Lovers: Lopez and Sheila. This card is fairly self explanatory, I think. Two people in love! It just so happens that in this case, the happiest and most functional relationship is between a robot soldier and the enemy tank.

7- The Chariot: Agent South Dakota. The chariot is all about go-go-go. It's a card of action and movement, much like South's fiery and passionate personality. Though her impulsivity often got her benched, the limitations placed on her by the Director only added to her frustration and prevented her from getting any of that energy out in a healthy way. After Project Freelancer her main mission was always to keep moving and keep finding something new, no matter what destruction she had to leave behind.

8- Strength: Michael J. Caboose. While Caboose is of course strong in a physical sense, that's not exactly the meaning of the strength tarot card. Strength is the lion, but it's also the young woman who fearlessly scratches the lion's ears. Caboose can lift a tank, but his real power comes from the strength of his friendships and his willingness to trust anyone who comes his way. This endless optimism and determination to keep seeing the bright side of everything (even a killer robot) is what led the Reds and Blues out of many tough scrapes.

9- The Hermit: Dick Simmons. The hermit is a guy by himself, plain and simple. While Simmons craves the company of others, he often finds it easier to keep himself isolated than to deal with the complexities of humanity. If the Reds don't respect him he'll simply join the Blues and take over an empty base. He's smart, yes, but he sees his own powers as ultimate and doesn't want to be on the team if he isn't seen as essential.

10- The Wheel of Fortune: Agent Florida. As a symbol of fate and destiny, the wheel of fortune is suited to a character like Florida who may appear chaotic but ultimately pulls the strings of Blood Gulch. His personality can be a bit unpredictable at times, but Flowers is still completely in control. It's just a question of whether you've figured out his plan yet.

11- Justice: Agent Connecticut. While all the members of Project Freelancer were supposedly fighting for peace, CT is the only one who took it upon herself to keep their agency in check. The others followed of course, but she was the first whistleblower to really challenge Freelancer and uncover the twisted secrets of their organization, and she was more than willing to sacrifice her life if it meant getting that information to the right people. Though it didn't come to pass until after his death, CT was still the one who brought Project Freelancer to justice.

12- The Hanged Man: Lavernius Tucker. While the hanged man isn't exactly a cheery sounding card, what it's really about is looking at difficult situations from a creative perspective. Tucker was constantly tied up in the schemes of others (The Director, the Sangheli, Felix), but he always maintained his distinctive attitude and determination. While he would have preferred to stay the same guy he was in Blood Gulch, he proved again and again that he was more than able to adapt and evolve; thriving in lethal conflicts and becoming a hero unlike any other.

13- Death: The Meta. The Meta, like death, is not cruel or sadistic. It is simply coming for you, and you will not escape. Looking deeper though, the death card in tarot symbolizes the end to old systems and the transition to something new. The Meta was once Agent Maine, until is underwent a transformation more horrible than simply dying. It went through a metamorphosis, and in the process brought about the end of Project Freelancer and the beginning of a new era.

14- Temperance: Locus. This card is one that symbolizes balance more than anything else. As a man desperate to become a machine, Locus tried to maintain perfect control over himself. He wanted to appear solid and unshakeable, up until the bedrock of his partnership with Felix was shattered. After he turned on his partner, Locus struggled to maintain a different kind of balance; between the man he was and the man he wants to be.

15- The Devil: Felix. Well this one is pretty simple. The devil as a card is about evil, yes; but it's also about control and creativity. Felix found joy in his ability to wrap the people of the New Republic around his finger, and he thrived in command of an army of space pirates. More than that though, he had fun with it. He always came up with innovative ways to destroy his enemies or intimidate his allies, and he was completely free of guilt the entire time.

16- The Tower: The Director. While death and the devil sound scary on the surface, the tower is really the most powerfully negative card in the deck. Much like Dr. Church, the tower brings misery and despair to everyone associated with it. More specifically, the screaming people falling from a lightning struck tower symbolizes divine retribution for humans who saw themselves as gods. The Director spent his later years trying to build a program that could win a war and bring back his lost love, and his favorite tool was manipulation. He always wanted nothing more than to establish his own power and prove that he could maintain complete control over the world and people around him, but it was only a matter of time before his ship crashed into Sidewinder and his bitter children found his hiding place.

17- The Star: Dexter Grif. The star is another symbol of balance, though this one is more about fairness and hope. Grif is someone who may act discontented but clearly cares deeply about the people around him, and his unshakeable demeanor holds the Reds together (as much as Sarge would hate to admit it). While he doesn't literally nourish the land and water like the star, he stays calm amidst a team of fiery tempers and is able to keep the warthog running if they ever need a getaway vehicle.

18- The Moon: Agent Washington. The moon is all about changes and illusions, perfect for someone like Wash who spent so much time blending into different personas. While Wash, like the moon, can appear dark and mysterious; he's ultimately a force for positive change amongst the Reds and Blues, who in turn inspire him to change into the best version of himself.

19- The Sun: Kaikaina Grif. Simple joy, that's what the sun is all about. In a canyon full of shitty people and a show full of angst, Kai is one of the only characters who's just here to have a good time. As crazy as things get for her brother and his friends, she'll always be waiting back at Blue Base with enough music and glowsticks to keep the party going.

20- Judgement: Agent Texas. Much like the angel on this card descends to judge mankind, Tex was dragged from the afterlife to separate the worthy from the corrupt. While she was created as a sort of toy in the Director's grief, she quickly established her own sense of identity and justice. She saw the truth of Project Freelancer and made it her mission to destroy it, doing her best to free the Alpha. In Blood Gulch and beyond she acted as a sort of avenging angel for the Blues, swooping in to save their asses and punish whoever she deemed to be worthy of punishment. In the end they all learned something from Tex and her fierce determination. Church became his own protector, and he could finally let Allison rest.

21- The World: The AI fragments. The world is a card of ultimate completion. Much like the many fragments who came from a more powerful AI, many symbols surround the vast and vibrant landscape of this card. Delta, Theta, Gamma, Omega, Beta, Sigma, Eta, Iota, Epsilon, and Alpha are all characters in their own right; but they're also pieces of a whole. They were never able to reunite fully in Red vs Blue, but they live on in the memories of Epsilon and all of us who return to the show year after year.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This 1926 home in Carmel, CA is so big, but it only has 2bds and 4ba. It's unique and they're asking $2.888M. Maybe it's for the land, which is 2.50 acres.

Front door and small foyer.

The large living room has a big stone fireplace and a great view of the mountains from the huge window. I'm a pink lover, but I'm not feelin' the carpet.

I like this sitting room better b/c it has a tile floor. It also has a fireplace, but this one is brick, and there's a large chandelier. Notice how they face their chairs toward the window.

The kitchen is large and has 2 brick structures with tile accents.

Closeup of the kitchen island. This thing is here to stay, unless you want to take a sledghammer to it.

Now, this is weird- look at how far the oven is- it's on the other side of the island, and there's a little room that looks like a pantry, but the fridge is in there.

See the fridge? And, the cabinet on the other side houses an old, outdated stereo system- look at the big reel-to-reel tape player.

There's a hallway to the right, and look at the fancy stairs. Even a brick arch.

Bedroom #1. So fancy- the wallpaper, drapes, and bedding match. It's even on the ceiling.

And, check out the matching bath. The tub is so 70s.

The shower is also made of the pink and gold tile.

Down the hall is Bd. #2. Wow, an organ. Can you imagine if it starts playing in the middle of the night?

Interesting hall outside the 2nd bedroom. It has pocket doors, too. The theme is blue & green.

Maybe this is why they're selling, they have another bed squeezed in here. Not enough bedrooms.

I don't know what this is- looks like an apt. setup in here.

Another pass-thru with storage.

The house has lots of stained glass.

I wonder why they have the stairs blocked off on the left.

There are decks and terraces around the house, all with great mountain views.

The main attraction is the scenery. There's a small path here.

Looks like an abandoned shed.

Nice gate here and some wildflowers.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/27540-Mooncrest-Dr-Carmel-CA-93923/19372886_zpid/

[vexwerewolf]

Tell us about one of your favorite Lancer mechs you've piloted

(art by @deeganart)

-- IPS-N Tortuga @ LL12 -- [ LICENSES ] HORUS Goblin 3, IPS-N Tortuga 2, HA Sherman 3, SSC Dusk Wing 3, IPS-N Raleigh 1 [ CORE BONUSES ] Sloped Plating, Heatfall Coolant System, Auto-Stabilizing Hardpoints, Improved Armament [ TALENTS ] Vanguard 3, Leader 3, Grease Monkey 3, Nuclear Cavalier 3, Combined Arms 2, Empath 1 [ STATS ] HULL:4 AGI:2 SYS:4 ENGI:4 STRUCTURE:4 HP:24 ARMOR:3 STRESS:4 HEATCAP:10 REPAIR:8 TECH ATK:+5 LIMITED:+2 SPD:4 EVA:8 EDEF:14 SENSE:15 SAVE:16 [ WEAPONS ] Integrated: Fuel Rod Gun FLEX MOUNT: Hand Cannon / Hand Cannon MAIN MOUNT: Deck-Sweeper Automatic Shotgun HEAVY MOUNT: ANDROMEDA-Pattern Heavy Laser Rifle // Auto-Stabilizing Hardpoints [ SYSTEMS ] Personalizations, ASURA-Class NHP x3, H0R_OS System Upgrade I, H0R_OS System Upgrade II, Flicker Field Projector, Redundant Systems Upgrade x3, BB Breach/Blast Charges x5

This mech does everything.

It's tough, it's survivable, it can hand out truly obscene amounts of damage. It can create instant Size 2 cover anywhere within Sensors. It can shut down high-power enemies. Every time it moves, the first attack against it has a flat 50% chance to miss. It can give allies +1d6 damage as a reaction. If an enemy so much as sneezes in its vicinity, it will light it up. So long as there are less than five combats in the mission, it can use ASURA every combat. Once per mission, everyone gets a point of Structure repaired and a use of all Limited systems restored for free.

Having the extra Flex with the Hand Cannons allows it to do a truly filthy trick with its Core System. Hyper-Reflex Mode says "any character you hit with Overwatch becomes Immobilized until the end of their next turn." If you Overwatch with a Main/Aux or an Aux/Aux, your first attack in the sequence must be against the enemy who triggered it, but your second attack isn't subject to this restriction, so if someone triggers your Overwatch while HRM is on, you can fire the second Hand Cannon at some rando who's also in range and they both get Immobilized.

It has no melee weapons and needs none thanks to Combined Arms 2, and thanks to Combined Arms 1 it can get soft cover just by being adjacent to an enemy.

With 10 Heat Cap and Heatfall, it can safely Overcharge Loop to fire its Andromeda, and it has a 1-in-3 chance of being able to trigger Nuclear Cavalier every time it does so. Andromeda gets +1 Accuracy automatically.

Switch customized it to have a small fleet of camera drones constantly circling it so that they can livestream all their mech fights, and they always carry an omnihook with them so that they'll be able to connect to the omninet no matter where they are.

This isn't a meme machine. It's a fucking dream machine.