#and degeneration abounds

[housemdork]

house md rewatch: 1x22, "honeymoon"

somehow one of the show's tamest season finales still ended up rocking my world.

an episode full of actions speaking louder than words, making it an excellent season one send-off, if you ask me. this one has excellent synergy with the pilot, despite how radically things have changed in the last 21 installments. wilson agrees that house cares about him based on his actions, and in 1x22, house spends the whole episode working in spite of his words to express his love to stacy through caring for mark. even though he can't stand the guy. good one, david shore and co.

3 separate notes i want to make from the top of the episode:

have there always been at least 3 red mugs? i swear we've only seen 1 so far, but one of the earliest scenes showcases 3.

the first drugging incident is in the books! along with their goofy "you dosed me/them/him" lingo.

wilson immediately maxed out his season 1 hypocrisy scale when he told house to "treat the husband. stay away from the wife." just because you abandon your wife all the time does NOT make you the right person to distribute relationship advice. idiot.

my general thoughts on stacy are very positive - i cannot think of a better past love interest for house, nor can i think of anyone who could give a better performance than sela ward. the way she still fits in with house doesn't lessen house's strong characterization thus far, and her screen time feels interesting and warranted throughout. the way she shuts him down when he asks about potential infidelity here gives the instant impression that house cannot mess with her like he does with just about everyone else:

most importantly, what i like about stacy are the ways she problematizes the ethics, or lack thereof, that we've become adjusted to under the Greg House Regime. she strong-arms people all the time as a lawyer, but in a completely opposite venue as house. in her world, there are grey areas abound; she just has to navigate through them all to reach a favorable conclusion. from our experience in 1x21, this was a major point of contention between them, and i think it's a really clever way of showing 2 different life paths manifested in 2 wildly different people with similar moral codes.

but something doesn't sit right (intentionally so): are their understandings of, and respect for, patient autonomy the same?

that house never fights her on this point gives us a superficial answer, at least: yes. stacy demands that house make mark, her current husband, go through a highly dangerous test in the same way that house would have strong-armed any other patient into doing the same thing. he can't refute this point when she throws it in his face, and goes so far as to accuse house of wishing mark would die (more ofc to come of that later):

but, subliminally, there's 2 key differences at play here: stacy hasn't known house that much post-infarction, so she hasn't seen the full impact that her middle-ground medical decision had on him, and now she's advocating for the dangerous procedure, whereas amidst house's infarction, she wanted the more fool-proof, cautious option. they make a nod to the former point when she comments about house bouncing his cane: "some people would find that annoying."

i don't think stacy is aware of this irony - and who would be while their husband is dying of freak brain matter and nerve degeneration? she's operating from a place of love for mark and arguing - in a rather courtroom-esque way, begging house to forego the legal consequences - for him to do something drastic. when he gives in, we see a flash of house's most dangerous side.

this was the least surprising "plot twist" yet btw. house md writers i'm not idiot. i knew he had that Look in his eye and was gonna do it.

it's such a weird moment; house was choosing to be safe by not directly threatening mark's life with a dangerous test, but he was doing it out of selfishness. this highlights a persistent conflict of morals that reappears all over the show. these 2 make a pretty dangerous duo lol.

personally, i'd be lying if i said stacy's disregard for house's choice about his infarction didn't bother me, and i LOVE the discomfort that generates within me as a viewer. i have to hold house to that same standard, but we've been so endeared to his character over time that it's textually difficult to maintain that integrity. maybe it's something to do with how we're taught to consider house as god, too, no matter how often he fails us/the show emotionally? much to think about.

next, i want to highlight this moment of fellow solidarity:

this speaks louder than dozens of words ever could about where the fellows are at emotionally. despite the ways in which they're all like house and all the ways he's influenced them, they can still identify his tipping point. this in and of itself is a small act of love, i'd argue, and we can extrapolate that:

chase, despite being so deep in the shitter with house post-vogler, still cares enough for him to prevent him from making this crazy choice.

foreman hasn't been so corrupted by house as to abandon his morals; he's stood firm against the mini-house accusations by being so consistently upstanding.

cameron can see through house, like she's been trying to all along, and knows that a large chunk of his current motivations are not for mark's benefit.

they each have unique insights into house's breakdown in 1x22 based on their unique relationships to him, all condensed into this brief "three musketeers" formation. love to see it, the fruit of 22 episodes' worth of writerly labor.

circling back to stacy (sorry for how disorganized this recap is!), there's an interesting comparison to make between stacy and wilson's function in this episode. stacy enables house to act on his craziest, instinctive impulses, whereas wilson is demanding the exact opposite - that he keep everything repressed for the sake of the patient. ofc, the highest irony is that, had house done that, mark would have died. this episode doesn't feature wilson's enabling crimes (those haven't come up that much this season, i don't think), but more so acts as a precursor for what's to come on that front.

but i would be VERY REMISS if i didn't mention a scene that i had nearly forgotten about myself that had me open-mouthed, thinking about The Future of this show and of These Two:

something should go here about the sign above wilson's shoulder. very no-turning-back. a nod to how he's quite literally leaving his wife for house here?

wilson gets to do one of my favorite things here: be house's moral compass on the subject he's the least trustworthy about - relationships. but i think this exchange highlights why house comes to wilson with his feelings about mark and stacy; wilson's own imperfections lets the vulnerability come easier. house admits that he was glad that mark's tests were inconclusive, that mark is "probably a great guy...and some part of me wants him to die. i'm just not sure if it's because i want to be with her or if it's because i want her to suffer."

that stacy picks up on this very fact later in the episode speaks to how well she knows house; that house tells wilson and not her shows the high regard that holds her in. that wilson doesn't respond says a lot. in an episode where everyone's voices are especially loud, and when wilson has already scolded house on this whole unraveling stacy debacle, his silence is peaceful...

...and a little bit prophetic. (4x16 spoilers) this reminds me a hell of a lot of a future, much more serious dilemma wherein a certain Broken Moral Compass asks his best friend to undergo a highly dangerous treatment to save someone else whom he loves. it's not perfect, but there's definitely a parallel to be drawn here: does wilson wish for house to undergo the life-threatening brain surgery just to save amber, or is there a small amount of selfishness there that wants to see house suffer? once again, much to think about! check back when i finally get to season 4 lol.

regardless, what i find compelling above all else is how wilson's silence helps prompt house to act above his words -- even though the subsequent actions are exactly the opposite of what wilson had been advising house to do thus far! no matter what his feelings may be about stacy and mark, he solves the case in the end, undoing his previous commitment to wait "for something to change." it was an obvious scapegoat when he said that to stacy, coming from the man who rejects all notions of change.

wilson's influence is even visually represented, too. when house returns to mark's hospital room, determined now to do the crazy thing and give him the dangerous treatment, we get a very brief shot of the teddy bear that wilson sent stacy and mark (he's so annoying lol):

lastly, i liked the step 1x22 took in throwing one of the show's background themes into the spotlight: house's neediness.

we've seen traces of it growing throughout the season, especially in how he tries to maintain order among the fellows, keeping them at his side while also self-sabotaging. it's clear to anyone that he can be exhausting to be around, but stacy confirms that this exhaustion extends well into his romantic/intimate relationships as well. according to her, while he is The One: "i was lonely. with mark, there's room for me."

OOF.

this somewhat contradicts what i said earlier about stacy not knowing house as he is now; like she told cameron, he's been This Way for a while - this also has interesting implications for wilson's comment during "detox" about whether house's changing behavior is "just the leg" or not. the antisocial behavior predates the infarction - very important in the Gregory House Timeline, and i think it actually endears us to him even more. and the mystery just got deeper, too.

in stacy's POV, he's always been needy. the relationship was always consuming, all about him. and as we well know, this isn't a trend that goes away. each of the fellows will grow apart from house, though at different paces and for very different reasons, and his future romantic relationships do the same, too.

but there IS someone who has a house-shaped hole in their heart, someone who defies the relationships that house has worn out thus far and will wear out in the future, someone that goes so far as to say that we "can't really choose who our friends are" because house fits that empty space too well.

"my wife's gonna kill me. we're having company. she cooked."

"i got mark's latest bloodwork. he's not responding to treatment."

"i'm sorry."

stacy was completely right to say that her relationship with house was too all-consuming; we see that play out again in the first half of season 2. but we also lay the seeds for what happens when there are 2 people, stricken with that same neediness dilemma, who are balanced perfectly for the other person, no matter how toxic things may become.

are there more things i could talk about? absolutely! i think i'll be doing an overall season recap, so i can evaluate some more atp. for now, happy end of season 1. wow, has the show transformed!! i'm sure that the final shot of the season being house contemplatively downing some vicodin isn't foreshadowing how his addiction becomes much more destructive in season 2...

HE'S SO SEASON 5 HERE.

[mdzs-fics]

The Return by LtLJ

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence (CQL) Series - 5 works 63k Words

The Return tells a different series of events to canon. It begins, unfortunately, with the death of Mo Xuanyu as part of a summoning array. But then …

The pacing of this series is great, and each story flows well into the next. I found the series highly entertaining.

[Must have an account with Archive of Our Own in order to read. An invitation is readily provided on the website.]

Brotherhood 1 chapter 10k words

Wei Wuxian didn't answer. Jiang Cheng turned to see his stricken expression. Jiang Cheng suppressed a groan. "Wei Wuxian! What else did you do?"

Jin Guangyao said, "The Yiling Patriarch has no golden core."

Wei Wuxian fixed his dark gaze on Jin Guangyao and snarled, "You're going to regret this. I swear it."

Jiang Cheng thought this was a distraction, he just had no idea why it was distracting. "What? Because he's dead?"

"No, no. It was gone before he died." Jin Guangyao seemed to be enjoying this more and more. "But in my attempts to find his spirit, I realized the Yiling Patriarch's golden core was still in this world, even though he no longer was." He added deliberately, "The Yiling Patriarch's golden core is in your chest."

Five years after the death of Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng is called to Carp Tower by the Chief Cultivator in a thinly veiled bid to get rid of the Jiang sect and enslave the Yiling Patriarch.

Invited into the treasure room, things do not go well, as Jin Guangyao shows his hand a bit too early. Revelations abound, and Jiang Cheng can do little about them except attempt an escape with a newly resurrected Wei Wuxian.

Alliance 1 chapter 15k words

"You should tell him to call you 'A-Die,'" Wei Wuxian suggested.

It was a good idea and Jiang Cheng was mad he hadn't thought of it. He crouched down eye-level with Jin Ling. "Can you call jiujiu 'A-Die' until we get to Lotus Pier?" At Jin Ling's mulish expression, he added, "It's practice for cultivating, like when we pretend to be on a night hunt."

"Jiujiu is jiujiu." Jin Ling pouted. "And I don't want to train. Xiaoshu said I didn't have to!"

Of course he did, Jiang Cheng thought with an under the breath growl. Why bother to train you when he was planning to murder you? Busy braiding Wen Ning's hair, Wei Wuxian said, "Bribe him, Jiang Cheng."

"I know!" Jiang Cheng told him, annoyed. He turned back to Jin Ling. "If you do it, jiujiu will get you a present."

"A puppy!" Jin Ling clapped his hands in delight.

"Augh!" Wei Wuxian shuddered.

Jiang Cheng snorted as he pushed to his feet. "Serves you right."

Now that they have escaped out of Carp Tower with Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng and company make for Lotus Pier. After arrival, there are some uncomfortable discussions, letters are sent, and a group of Lan juniors encounter a rogue cultivator in a silver mask who save them from a yao on Dafan Mountain. After battling with the yao alongside Lan Wangji, an arm flies through the group and knocks Wei Wuxian unconscious.

Upon waking, Wei Wuxian finds himself in Cloud Recesses, with Lan Wangji willing to help him. There is a meeting of Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji at the gates and a plan to meet in Caiyi is made.

Conspiracy 1 chapter 13k words

Wei Ying's whisper was furious, "So I saved his life after he nearly drowned Wen Ning, and then he betrayed you and your uncle and all the other Lan, and then tried to feed Mianmian to the Xuanwu? Why didn't I hate him before now?"

Because you forgive too easily, Lan Wangji thought. "I do not know," he said.

Wei Ying started down the slope again. "At least now we know why he's involved with Jin Guangyao's plots. There's never been a bad situation he didn't manage to make worse."

Lan Wangji could only agree. Su Minshan had been prideful and overconfident, but so were most young disciples. It was his habit of never taking any lesson from his mistakes and then blaming others for every misfortune that had led to the degeneration of his character.

After meeting in Caiyi, our group follows the demonic arm that Jiang Cheng managed to capture and end up on Xinglu ridge. After an unwise journey into one of the tombs, Wei Wuxian transfers a curse mark from one of the young Jiang disciples to himself. As the Nie arrive, he gets rid of the curse - mostly. A discussion with Nie Huaisang ensues.

There are a number of discussions and plans are made for a confrontation. More is exposed as Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng finally piece together the words of Su Minshan and Jin Guangyao in the treasure room while speaking of their sister.

Confrontation 4 chapters 22k words

When dawn broke, Wei Wuxian stood on the roof of the Sword Hall. Towards the far end of the town's harbor, the boats that would carry the sect leaders to Lotus Pier made ready to embark. In the courtyard below, the Jiang disciples checked their supplies and weapons with quick efficiency. It was almost time, and they were as prepared as they could be.

Wei Wuxian had put away the blue robes Jiang Cheng had given him and wore the red-trimmed black cotton he had come back to life in, cleaned of blood and smoke but still tinged with the sulfur of Nightless City. No more pretending.

The piece of Yin Iron that they had taken from Xue Yang in Jinlintai set in his sleeve, a familiar burn against his skin and the surface of his mind.

Beside him, Wen Ning stood like a statue, his face lifted to the golden glow of the afternoon sun on the lake. Like the disciples in the courtyard, it was time for Wen Ning to take his place for the battle to come. Wei Wuxian said, "Do you want revenge, Wen Ning?"

Wen Ning's eyes opened, his pupils lost in solid black. He said, "Yes, gongzi. Yes, I do."

Wei Wuxian nodded. "Today you shall have it."

The Sects come Lotus Pier. In a scene dimly reminiscent of the Second Siege of the Burial Mounds, traitors and murderers are exposed. Some meet their end immediately, others …

Wei Wuxian suffers, meets a much younger Lan Sizhui, and is invited to Gusu once more.

Reunion 1 chapter 4k words

An epilogue which wraps up the series well. No more to be said.

[theheadlessgroom]

The mention of gifts helped to perk the children up a little bit, but Randall could tell that both of them were still dreading the day their extended family would pack up and head back home, a day that was fast approaching, now that October was coming to a close, and November was just around the corner. They put on brave faces at their mother's encouragements, he knew they were determined to soak up as much time as they could, but there was no denying that sense of dread all the same.

And he understood, honestly, for it had been a wonderful experience, meeting his grandparents and his uncles. All his life (and much of his afterlife now), he'd heard so many stories from his parents about them, these being the only connection he had to his kin. When he was younger, he often found himself wishing he could've known them, feeling it was so unfair to not have been afforded a chance to meet them, but as he grew older, he had sort of resigned himself to the fact that he never would know them.

(In some ways, he found solace in that fact...given his fears that he would be a disappointment to his relatives, perhaps it was for the best...)

But now that he had met them, and had been resoundingly embraced by them all, no less, he felt a little hollow at the prospect of them leaving. He had loved dancing with his uncles, learning Irish jigs and favorite songs (best enjoyed with a drink in your hand, alcoholic or not), hearing all about Colin and Callahan's wives (his aunts!) and children (his cousins!), and more stories about the Pace family he'd never heard before. He had loved sitting with his grandmother, enthusing over different styles of fabric and the colors they came in, swapping stories about the things they made, their process, and the funny little things that happened while they were working on them. He had loved enjoying a cup of coffee with his grandfather, reminiscing about the happier days in their mortal lives, little memories unencumbered by grief and sorrow, that put a mutual smile on their faces.

To think all of that would become few and far between for a while, on account of the distance put between them...it was disappointing and disheartening, knowing they really only had a month together, and it was unknown for now when they'd meet again...

But he did his best to swallow back that disappointment and put on a brave face as they all headed downstairs, the swinging wake about to begin: Just as Emily had encouraged Lon and Erika, Randall too would make the most of the night, and enjoy the time afforded to him and his family.

@beatingheart-bride

"You got breakfast in bed, Mama?" Lon asked in surprise (he thought you only got to eat in bed when you were sick!), to which Randall replied, "She sure did. See, Grandpa Wil used to make Grandma June breakfast in bed for her birthday and Mother's Day, and she used to make him breakfast in bed for his birthday and Father's Day, so I thought it'd be nice to do the same."

Thinking about it, he realized he had a couple of very fuzzy memories when it came to these breakfasts; remembering vaguely helping his parents when he was very small, in particular his father...he couldn't remember if it was June's birthday or Mother's Day, he just recalled, however hazily, toddling around with a little vase in his hands, trailing after his father as they entered the bedroom, and his mother kissing his cheek when he presented her with the flower...

Leaving this hazy memory behind, he smiled as he recalled, "I got better at baking after that incident-we used to make little king cakes together for Mardi Gras; we never had anything hidden in them, of course, but they were still lots of fun to make and decorate."

Knowing all about the delights of king cake and other Mardi Gras cuisine (especially since Mardi Gras was such a major holiday at the Mansion; Uncle Dori and Aunt Lizzie wouldn't have it any other way), the twins lit up at this, only for Erika to then falter, asking, "Will...will Grandpa August and Grandma Josie come back for Mardi Gras?"

"And what about Christmas? And Thanksgiving?" Lon asked, their gleeful smiles having been replaced by a sense of uncertainty, an uncertainty Randall could see plain as day, and it made him sigh: In some ways, it seemed so unfair that these new families only have so little time to spend with the children before they went home...he understood, of course, but he hated to see the little ones so disappointed at the prospect of these new faces disappearing as quickly as they had appeared.

Still, Randall tried to put on a brave face for the pair, reassuring them, "I'm sure that they will. I don't think they'd miss it for the world."

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tags @willtheweaver and @theink-stainedfolk!

WIP Trailer Tag

Rules: Make a movie trailer for your wip

Let's do Mystery of the Mortal God >:)

[Opening scene. A mechanical, dragon-legged vardo hisses and clanks down a lonely night road. A banjo softly plays in the background]

A woman's voice, low and gravely: "There's a witch in these woods. A scholar of runes and ruin."

[Scene shifts with a zoom. We're in a bustling city coated in rain. Islands float overhead and streetlamps glow in rainbow hues. A slight, jazzy drum and bass groove joins the banjo.]

The same woman continues: "Just like there's a devil in this city. A cursed one, yes, but his contracts trap and bind all the same."

[Scene shifts again. We get a flash of a moon-lit warehouse, the echo of a man's muffled scream. There's another flash of a nest of tubes and pipes seen from below. A third flash, 1st person POV with static at the edges, of falling from a height to impact the mud below. A tense electronic beat cuts through the jazzy, banjo acoustics.]

The same woman again: "Enemies abound. Creations work against their masters. Mechanical angels fight to cast down their man-made gods."

[Scenes change faster now. There's a flash of Astra helping Mashal up from the mud. Ivander dripping blood from his hands as he walks down the length of a train. A ritual of purple flame in an old warehouse. An abandoned town filled with the sound of marching feet. Three hands - brown, blue, and mechanical - pushing open a mahogany door.]

The woman once more: "Despicable.... What degenerates would oppose the overthrow of time's tyranny? What fools would oppose me?"

There's a pause, followed by a low chuckle.

"We'll just have to find out together..."

This was fun! I'll tag @mk-writes-stuff @leahnardo-da-veggie @urnumber1star @mr-orion @mysticstarlightduck and anyone else who wants in :)

[zinnia-sinensis]

My most shimmering Saorise,

Though baffled you felt compelled to ask, you are, of course, more than welcome to avail yourself of the upper floor. The space is far too sparse, and could use your radiance. You may remain indefinitely. Feel no haste or compulsion to find different lodgings. My singular stipulation is that you might cast your customary blind eye to my occasional indiscretions.

I can scarcely believe that my own shop will be opening its doors to any ingrate or cretin who may creep in from this pettish plane. I am, of course, overjoyed. You and I shall have an appointed space to vend our wares and wonders–not to mention a place of final respite for those in need. Alas, degenerates abound; the cost of doing business.

I found and unpacked my darling dolly and oh! - The final vestige of the life I abandoned– or perhaps abandoned me. Despite all of the moving, this small token has nevertheless endured. Luckily for me she cannot recount all she’s seen. If my belothed mother could witness the state of her she would be repulsed. It remains regrettable that I shall never be able to curse Guylaine with such an image.

I’ve finished the first floral arrangement in my new workspace as well. I tried to take a leaf -ha! from Eiland’s book, but I cannot bear it. It’s as if tossing whatever leaves one might find on a stroll in the wood into any vessel, and expecting a potable cup of tea. Where is the depth? The curation?

Tragically, there has already befallen some malfunction with my lift. I was quite hoping to be open for some few hours before reaching out to Calliope again... I should be able to manage for a few days, but do I dare risk repose at some random tavern? All to avoid someone I desire to spend time with? She just has such a penchant for consuming my thoughts when we are together, and I have so very many things to do.

If I can offer any assistance in the preparations for the wedding, you need only ask. I do hope the fragrances were to your sister‘s taste. I haven’t seen her in such an age. I feel your absence so profoundly I fear I cannot endure 28 more days alone. Perhaps an evening with some desultory dame at a tavern could lift my spirits.

With endless love,

Your fondest flame,

Z

[fevotinggauntletreal]

Year of the Dragon Opening Round - Match 3

(pictured: haaa, let's go one by one... a Wyvern Lord's mount from Awakening; a wild wyvern from Mystery of the Emblem; a Malig Knight's mount from Fates; a Dragonmaster's mount from Radiant Dawn; a Wyvern Knight's mount from Genealogy of the Holy War; a Wyvern Rider's mount from Blazing Blade; a Wyvern Rider's mount from Three Houses; a Wyvern Knight's mount from Engage; and a Wyvern Knight's mount from Sacred Stones.)

you can still see like one little bit of the arena backdrop, ain't that something and a half

associated lore under the cut

wyverns are a staple of Fire Emblem worlds, almost always figuring as the war mounts of the renowned Wyvern Riders. sometimes, there's substantial lore behind it; other times, yeah, there are just huge flying lizards that people ride into battle, what are you gonna do about it?

a point of note is that modern fantasy tends to distinguish "wyverns" from true dragons, characterizing them specifically as two-legged, broad-winged, pointy-tailed, serpentine beasts. this distinction is first of all ahistorical, but in the context of Fire Emblem it's also the subject of some translation oddity. in the japanese text, wyverns are usually referred to as "flying dragons", and are not otherwise radically distinguished from other dragons in most settings where they appear. this also accounts for them having largely appeared as regular four-legged dragons in older titles, although newer titles have increasingly designed them to look more like the ideal "wyvern" form. it's likely that the "wyvern" terminology stems from Blazing Blade being the first internationalized Fire Emblem game, and Treehouse not quite wrapping their heads around the apparent contradiction of "flying dragons" still appearing in Elibe after the Scouring was supposed to have driven away all the dragons.

archanean wyverns are one of the dragon clans that once reigned supreme over Archanea. none are known to have survived the degeneration of dragonkind, but feral specimens thread the skies from Dolhr to the Mamorthod Desert. of particular note is that humans enslaved by Dolhr have managed to tame the bestial wyverns in the island and use them as war mounts; this proved crucial to a successful slave rebellion which led to the formation of the kingdom of Macedon.

jugdrali wyverns inhabit the rocky wastelands at the southern side of the Thracian peninsula, and have become the feared steeds of the Thracian mercenaries. their existance is odd when considering that the Jugdral games take place in the same universe as Archanea, but before the degeneration of dragonkind earnestly kicked in, and the fact that dragonkind doesn't generally dwell in Jugdral is an important factor in its backstory. it is thusly hard to tell if Jugdral's wyverns are at all supposed to be of a kind with Archanea's.

elibean wyverns are the only dragons generally known to have remained in Elibe after the Scouring (although other exceptions abound, such as the denizens of Arcadia). they used to fly over the entire continent, but since the Scouring, they've been confined to Bern, where they're used as war mounts.

the "wyvern knight mount" that appears in Sacred Stones marks a very odd point in the flow of the idea of what exactly our here wyverns/flying dragons are supposed to be. the English version of the game never distinguishes it from the original wyverns, despite it looking blatantly different. in Japanese, though the class that rides them is called "Wyvern Knight" (unlike the usual Dragon Knight that tends to get localized as Wyvern Rider), they are in text referred to as a term that could be translated either as "snake dragon", or "evil dragon". this is, in fact, the same term that would appear in later games and be translated as "Fell Dragon"!

the malig knight mount is described as an "evil dragon" that the Malig Knight is able to tame, and the japanese name of that class, "Revenant Knight", implies that they are undead dragons. to the best of my knowledge, though, nothing else is established about these mounts, including the extent to which they are or are not of a kind with regular wyverns.

and now for a lightning round of continuities where the most depth that wyverns get is being associated with particular locations: magvel wyverns are typical of Grado; tellius wyverns are ridden by the senatorial guard of Begnion, although a substantial force has defected to Daein; ylissean wyverns are typical of Plegia, and Rosanne in Valm also houses a substantial wild wyvern population; nohrian wyverns are, well, typical of Nohr; and although fódlanite wyverns are not typical of any particular region, the neighboring Almyrans are considered masters of wyvern warfare, and have in particular refined the art of wyvernback archery.

[kassymalone]

📓🐁

A mouse drags in a notebook hoping for your secret fanfiction knowledge.

A dangerous thing to do in a house full of cats, little mouse. Alright, grab your pen, let me give you the lowdown on an Undertale fic I'll probably never write, but I do think about from time to time.

You are a murderer. The courts may call it 'self defence', but you know what you did, and you ain't sorry. You're a criminal, just another degenerate chewed up and thrown out by the system with no education, no prospects, and no future.

What you do have - unbeknownst to you - is a twin. Not identical, but close enough looking that it's obvious you came from the same womb, finally reunited by a rare gene flagged up by the prosecution to link you to the scene of your crime. Maddie's parents are pissed - pissed that you were kept from them during the adoption procedure, that they were denied the opportunity to raise two kids.

One day in court later, and your delinquent ass is on the other side of the country in a Norman Rockwell vs Stepford Wives nightmare, all white picket fences and mowed lawns and assholes wearing pastels. Your new foster parents are far from the worst you've had, and it's cool to have a blood relative for the first time in your life. You've got the opportunity to finish school, even if you're going to be older than everyone else, and as long as you keep your nose clean while on parole you can stay out of actual-adult prison.

Not that anything is that simple. You're not an easy person to deal with for your immature sister, her unprepared parents and the pathetic school bullies not expecting a convicted criminal in their class. As much as you're trying to do good and fly right, some days you just really want to stab a fucker...

Jealous that you're more 'mature' than she is, Maddie gets herself a job at a bakery/café, some place named 'Muffets', run by a couple of skeleton monsters that are pretty common around here. You think she should be focusing on school, since this is her second time repeating the final year, so take it upon yourself to be as much of a nuisance as legally possible to get her fired.

Too bad for you, Black and Blue - who aren't twins even though they look like they could be - are a lot more difficult to rattle than the other middle class weaklings around here, and send you to sit at the kiddie table with the delivery boy, a tall skeleton who sleeps most of the day. It ain't such a bad place - Blue is a nice guy, and Black is tough, but fair, and they treat Maddie pretty well for a part timer who keeps making idiot mistakes. They won't even let her work weekends unless she can prove her homework is all done, so shit might just work out.

Besides, Black is real fun to tease. You'll never get tired of the way he blushes, how his eyelights disappear when you say something 'naughty', the way he flounders when you 'accidentally' touch his arm. He'd never do anything - the guys too straight to even consider fucking someone still in school - but you can still play.

But as you well know, the good times don't last forever. Between the creepy neighbour that's way too interested in your sister, the bad influences from your old life determined you drag you back down, and the assholes in the new one that don't want you to be a better person, your stress and hackles just keep rising.

Questions abound - why weren't Maddie's parents told about you when you were babies? Who is this Matthew kid in the family photo's, and why does he look just like your sister? Are Black's boundaries as hard and fast as you thought? And who the fuck is lurking in the bushes at night?!

[thepastisalreadywritten]

The word for Christmas in late Old English is Cristes Maesse, the Mass of Christ, first found in 1038, and Cristes-messe in 1131; in Latin, Dies Natalis.

Early Celebration

Christmas was not among the earliest festivals of the Church.

Saints Irenaeus and Tertullian omit it from their lists of feasts. Origen, glancing perhaps at the discreditable imperial Natalitia, asserts that in the Scriptures, sinners alone, not saints, celebrate their birthday.

Arnobius can still ridicule the "birthdays" of the gods.

The first evidence of the feast is from Egypt.

About A.D. 200, Clement of Alexandria says that certain Egyptian theologians "over curiously" assign, not the year alone, but the day of Christ's birth, placing it on 25 Pachon (May 20), in the twenty-eighth year of Augustus.

The December feast therefore reached Egypt between 427 and 433.

In Rome, the earliest evidence is in the Philocalian Calendar, compiled in 354, which contains three important entries.

In the civil calendar, December 25 is marked "Natalis Invicti."

In the "Depositio Martyrum," a list of Roman or early and universally venerated martyrs, under December 25 is found "VIII kal. ian. natus Christus in Betleem Iudæ."

De Santi (L'Orig. delle Fest. Nat., in Civiltæ Cattolica, 1907), following Erbes, argues that Rome took over the Eastern Epiphany, now with a definite Nativity colouring and, with increasing number of Eastern Churches, placed it on December 25.

Later, both the East and West divided their feast, leaving Ephiphany on January 6 and Nativity on December 25, respectively.

The earlier hypothesis still seems preferable.

Origin of Date

Concerning the date of Christ's birth, the Gospels give no help.

Upon their data, contradictory arguments are based. The census would have been impossible in winter: a whole population could not then be put in motion.

Again, in winter, it must have been, then only field labour was suspended. However, Rome was not thus considerate.

Authorities, moreover, differ as to whether shepherds could or would keep flocks exposed during the nights of the rainy season.

Natalis Invicti

The well-known solar feast, however, of Natalis Invicti, celebrated on December 25, has a strong claim on the responsibility for our December date.

For the history of the solar cult, its position in the Roman Empire and syncretism with Mithraism have collected the evidence for the feast, which reached its climax of popularity under Aurelian in 274.

In 1700, Filippo del Torre first saw its importance.

It is marked, as has been said, without addition in Philocalus' Calendar.

It would be impossible here to outline the history of solar symbolism and language as applied to God, the Messiah, and Christ in Jewish or Chrisian canonical, patristic, or devotional works.

Hymns and Christmas offices abound in instances; the texts are well arranged by Cumont.

Liturgy and Custom

The fixing of this date fixed those too of Circumcision, Presentation, Expectation, Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Nativity, and Conception of the Baptist (cf. Thurston in Amer. Eccl. Rev., December, 1898).

Till the tenth century, Christmas counted, in papal reckoning, as the beginning of the ecclesiastical year, as it still does in Bulls.

Boniface VIII (1294-1303) restored temporarily this usage, to which Germany held longest.

The Crib (creche) or Nativity Scene

In 1223, Saint Francis of Assisi originated the crib of today by laicizing a hitherto ecclesiastical custom, henceforward extra-liturgical and popular.

The presence of ox and ass is due to a misinterpretation of Isaias 1:3 and Habakkuk 3:2 ("Itala" version), though they appear in the unique fourth-century "Nativity" discovered in the Saint Sebastian catacombs in 1877.

The ass on which Balaam rode in the Reims mystery won for the feast the title Festum Asinorum (Ducange, op. cit., s.v. Festum).

Hymns and Carols

The degeneration of these plays, in part, occasioned the diffusion of noels, pastorali, and carols, to which was accorded, at times, a quasi-liturgical position.

Prudentius, in the fourth century, is the first (and in that century alone) to hymn the Nativity, for the "Vox clara" (hymn for Lauds in Advent).

"Christe Redemptor" (Vespers and Matins of Christmas) cannot be assigned to Ambrose.

"A solis ortu" is certainly, however, by Sedulius (fifth century).

The earliest German Weihnachtslieder date from the eleventh and twelfth centuries, the earliest noels from the eleventh, the earliest carols from the thirteenth.

The famous "Stabat Mater Speciosa" is attributed to Jacopone da Todi (1230-1306).

"Adeste Fideles" is, at the earliest, of the seventeenth century.

These essentially popular airs, and even words must, however, have existed long before they were put down in writing.

[jayciesalem]

Upset you didn’t include that full quote, which is:

“The Earth is degenerating today. Bribery and corruption abound. Children no longer obey their parents, every man wants to write a book. It is evident that the end of the world is fast approaching.”

People have been complaining about the modern generation for literal millennia

I love how humans have literally not changed throughout history like the graffiti from Pompeii has people from hundreds of years ago writing stuff like “Marcus is gay” “I fucked a girl here” “Julius your mum wishes she was with me” and leonardo da vinci’s assistants drew dicks in their notebooks just for the banter and mozart created a piece called “kiss my ass” so when people wish for ‘today’s generation’ to be like ‘how people used to’ then we’re already there buddy we’ve always been

[queeniethevampire]

((Queenie writes fanfics rarely, its 33/33/33 as to it being absolute degenerate smut, a crack fic, or this weird OOC but well thought out and executed conventional cannon trope flip with a slowburn to a climax with artistic yet eccentric writing styles and narrative subversions and madness abound.))

[hotgirl69xo]

Trudeau literally desensitisation gassed me and now he can’t gas me anymore? What about these Jewish fucks? So much nerve bleed, so many struggles have abounded. Someone who was helping me can’t gas me, but the degenerate abusers can? Kill yourselves you concil scum. Sorry, all of the kill innocents has prime work has made me a bit angry.

[cosmicmote]

Notices and Extrications

A philosophy that does not culminate in a metaphysic of ecstasy is vain speculation; a mystical experience that is not grounded on a sound philosophical education is in danger of degenerating and going astray. - Henry Corbin, Creative Imagination in the Sufism of Ibn 'Arabi

the world fills up with trash &

there is no removal

but through extrications

with public enactments of scourges,

where humanity is disfigured as Catherine experienced

& she also explained to me.

I will describe to you the surroundings -

I had rented a building for gallery space, part of a community where we could display our works. Small cement box stores in a garden sort of environment replete with statues of decorative buddhas. It was all rather vacant as it was new; in the short time following people moved in. This guy that took the place next to mine, named himself michiel, a dutch variation of the hebrew "who is like god", as people like to play at it. His last name some type of presage, or "bringer of good news", it would appear. So he fills his gallery with no effort photographs, just point and click, and the outside of his building quite visible from my rented gallery space he left it lined with bright and ugly trash placed up along the outside of his walls, close to eye level. As ordinary litter on the ground wouldn't do. I had complained to the owner of the property a couple of times at least, she was an owl of sorts, and she left the trash to sit, supposedly she would tell the neighboring renter to remove it. She may have, and he didn't. Opening day rolled around, a bunch of guests and visitors, the trash remained. The party with music and dancing, it's all communities there do besides throw things around, and the neighbor shows and dances and mingles, his trash still remaining, no effort to clean it up or remove, but simply left it, no effort.

The days rolled on, and there was still no removal of the trash, so against my better judgment I picked up everything in my gallery space and moved it to a different building across the property, because why be driven out, continue to give them a chance, right. After this the formerly neighboring building exterior was cleaned up. But he often gets promoted and showcased, offered to, as people are inclined to do, for his no effort works, it's all a matter of routine. He runs his own gallery too, and he does a lot of outreach volunteering to curate others' galleries, nearly always women and nearly always filling these with minimal to no skills or talent beyond vapid and vain point and click "ooooh preety i likes! i am that! just like me!", the motivations and swollen politickings even if not just literal selfies and from his selections and behaviors in all of this it's apparent that he's only in it so that he can get closer to women, because what else can he do, while putting somewhere between minimal and zero effort in. It's a routine, peddling of product or commodities, overdone, and how else are economies run now, for people to get off on and portray themselves big. These are the sort of works and peoples they get heavily promoted and advertised and put on pedestals and bundled so heavily trafficked like dope and neo-Legos and boys and girls. With certain frequency, all so big and loud with near blind eyes to it. An immersive intoxication of its own. Decorations abound thrown around to mask it, the lifelessness of it, most often mass produced. Ostensibly they are meant to be some sort of holy or divine, these decorations, too often. So much industry and freedoms. Derendering is a big in thing too, often brought up but highly selective in its applications, serving to keep the behaviors hidden, as long as it's others' and not their own mirror displays.

There was another big artist in this gallery space rental property place prior mentioned, who filled her gallery with artificial intelligence outbursts, I'm loathe to call it art; typing words as prompts is still low to no effort, aside from the scraped database issues of other peoples stolen works, she left the pilfered watermarks of others on her bejeweled offerings out for sale. It all goes so far, it's how the waves filter and carry by design. She wasn't the only other person there doing this, of course, though others seemed more careful about the watermarks of others showing.

Looking around some more, the environment overall, and people they like to speak on art for art's sake, but it's all so rare to actually and truthfully encounter, let alone have it be seen, there's no desire in the customers to have that sort of thing in any case, other than to claim it truly exists. People who are calling themselves artists or what not they don't have much desire for it either, much the same. Truthfulness, that's another thing that's tough to encounter,

so much bad faith all around. & the trash, it continues to pile up like so many words on the lawn, we're told it's never to be removed.

original painting using Black Ink and Corel Painter, additional photo layered in.

graphic and words ©spacetree 2025

[xruiningth3sh0wx]

Doe-eyed prey, swimming in a sea of sharks, fangs abound, clearly unwanted guests. What’s to stop anyone? There’s no justice out here. It’s the wild west. But even those people had a certain sense of honor. Not these, no. They’re animals, look at them. Zombies, reduced to only carnal instincts. I bet they salivate as we walk by.

 

Don’t look at them, maybe they won’t look at you. Don’t acknowledge them. They might not acknowledge you.

 

It’s not by choice, no. We certainly wouldn’t have picked this route. But you have to do what you have to do. Seniority means you’re the last line of defense. Especially when the ones who really can make an actual difference aren’t there.

 

Scribbles underneath bridges, indecipherable words and drawings from madmen with poison in their veins and broken thoughts in their minds. What brought them here? I don’t know. I don’t care. Best to keep walking. All you’ll be met with is slurs. First confused. Then angry.

 

Once you get to the gas stations and liquor stores, they swarm like flies. Cluster like hornets. Poke the nest. See what happens. I wouldn’t be here if I did, nor would my sister.

 

Cars on stands on the side of the road, windows barred or boarded up, broken glass, the stench of regrets too numerous to even be cared about, the appearance of the word “decay”. It’s not an ideal place for the youth to grow up. Not to me. But beggars can’t be choosers, and I hold no malice for being put here. I owe it much, as much as I resent iyt.

 

Growing up, I’d hear of a place called Hell, in holy books. A place where the wretched are sent, and the worst of the worst congregate, doomed to rot there, drowning in the cesspool of their own failures. They said it was somewhere else. I’d disagree. I can point out to you where Hell was. I saw it when some freak without teeth looked in my direction. When some degenerate hobbled into view, breaking out of a drugged stupor. I experienced Hell when we crossed the street early, and when we quickened our pace a bit, and my heart would pound like a rogue jackhammer on stubborn cement.

 

I’m not going to Hell. I already went. I have no desire to go back.

 

Three miles. Three measly miles. And then, after 8 hours, you do it again. Reverse. Back home.

 

The parents can’t help you. They’d like to. But duty calls. But come straight home. Wouldn’t want to worry them any more than this already does. The wrath of a desperate father, frustrated by his shortcomings, and an incompetent mother, and two unruly children, well, I’d hate to see that.

 

You get used to it after a while. An unconscious man lying in the streets, an empty bottle lying next to him. A woman offering herself up to any and all takers. A gathering of strange characters, conversing about potentially violent hijinks.

 

Avoid saying “hello” to anyone. No one’s friendly here. Strangers aren’t to be trusted. Eye contact will lead to lethal consequences, I think. Just keep walking, Chloe.

 

Rinse, wash, repeat. It becomes second nature. And you start to blend in after a while. It becomes robotic.

 

The shock wears off.

 

But don’t get comfortable.

[maximumconnoisseurfart]

Latest Degen News For Those Who Engage In High-Risk, Speculative Trading

In the world of cryptocurrency, the term 'degen' is short for 'degenerate' and refers to people who engage in high-risk, speculative trading.

Degens' are commonly associated with the newer trends in the crypto space, like Decentralized Finance (DeFi), a term for various financial applications in cryptocurrency or blockchain geared toward disrupting financial intermediaries. Despite the inherent risks, these traders play a big role in the crypto economy, often acting as liquidity providers and participants in new project launches.

Check out the latest Degen News by Block Matra - Our task is to support a global community of crypto enthusiasts with reliable information: news, articles, blogs, and reviews.

This term gained popularity as the hype around crypto and NFTs went up. Increasingly, as the crypto industry expands, it attracts more people seeing crypto as a shortcut to getting rich overnight.

This is perhaps because when crypto came off as the big new thing in the market, people were a little apprehensive about it. But those who truly did believe in it had the guts to try something new thus they invested big chunks of their money.

Despite the risks, numerous "degen" success stories abound in the crypto Degen news world:

On January 1, 2022, a 22-year-old student from Indonesia minted his first NFT artwork on OpenSea, the world’s largest marketplace for crypto collectibles. Named Ghozali Ghozalu, he had spent the last four years taking a picture of himself (almost) every day, and now he was ready to cash in on the long-term project.

The images, which date back to his teenage years, were listed for 0.001 ETH (or just over $3) each.

The images listed by Ghozali did eventually sell out, and thanks to a bunch of high-risk crypto traders, or degens, their price has now gone through the roof. As listed on OpenSea, the floor price — AKA the entry point for new buyers — is 0.29 ETH as of writing, which translates to around $900. The collection’s total traded volume stands at 374 ETH (more than $1.1 million).

Block Matra collects latest Degen news from the top crypto bases in the industry and curates the news that is simple and easy to comprehend.

[percyywilliamsonn]

Latest Degen News For Those Who Engage In High-Risk, Speculative Trading

In the world of cryptocurrency, the term 'degen' is short for 'degenerate' and refers to people who engage in high-risk, speculative trading.

Degens' are commonly associated with the newer trends in the crypto space, like Decentralized Finance (DeFi), a term for various financial applications in cryptocurrency or blockchain geared toward disrupting financial intermediaries. Despite the inherent risks, these traders play a big role in the crypto economy, often acting as liquidity providers and participants in new project launches.

Check out the latest Degen News by Block Matra - Our task is to support a global community of crypto enthusiasts with reliable information: news, articles, blogs, and reviews.

This term gained popularity as the hype around crypto and NFTs went up. Increasingly, as the crypto industry expands, it attracts more people seeing crypto as a shortcut to getting rich overnight.

This is perhaps because when crypto came off as the big new thing in the market, people were a little apprehensive about it. But those who truly did believe in it had the guts to try something new thus they invested big chunks of their money.

Despite the risks, numerous "degen" success stories abound in the crypto Degen news world:

On January 1, 2022, a 22-year-old student from Indonesia minted his first NFT artwork on OpenSea, the world’s largest marketplace for crypto collectibles. Named Ghozali Ghozalu, he had spent the last four years taking a picture of himself (almost) every day, and now he was ready to cash in on the long-term project.

The images, which date back to his teenage years, were listed for 0.001 ETH (or just over $3) each.

The images listed by Ghozali did eventually sell out, and thanks to a bunch of high-risk crypto traders, or degens, their price has now gone through the roof. As listed on OpenSea, the floor price — AKA the entry point for new buyers — is 0.29 ETH as of writing, which translates to around $900. The collection’s total traded volume stands at 374 ETH (more than $1.1 million).

Block Matra collects latest Degen news from the top crypto bases in the industry and curates the news that is simple and easy to comprehend. Connect with us: https://blockmatra.com/

[solardick]

Здравствуйте versus привет.

Hello versus hi.

Formal versus informal.

Subject’s birth point on “classical/modern” Waite’s version of the high priestess versus my own variant. The bearer of language and structure.

“Formal” english is a meek point. It barely exists anymore. The more formal an english speaker is the queerer they sound.

May I? Versus. Can I? Proves the degeneration of language. Which isn’t a far off shoot considering the vast amount of imaginative corrections needed to be made between spelling and pronunciation, it comes built it. And predisposes the mass to live an untrue nature. If i worded all that the way i intented. A Bow’s bow. Cant tell the difference between what word means what the contextual fails to the bias.

Yeah. It must be Santa clause. Definitely.

Truth is here. One may easily change the devil card for satan. Uh, i mean santa.

Clause

The russian’s dont technically have a Santa. Its soemthing else. Which serves as a near point.

Its makes the man’s job alot easier considering he doesnt have to fly over and deliver presents to the largest country in the world.

But on track. The high priestess of waites variety, makes a luke warm connection to the biblical holy church of king David or who ever. Part of the old testement. Ehich is primarily the school of gard knocks. Without saying the BJ on the pillars are suppose to represent boaz and joaz or whatever. Like anyone cares. But, those familiar witb the tarot cards would agree. That thise pillars stand for the magician and the chariot. Too bad though that BJ stands for something completely different on the perverted side of society. No one is going to make a connection to the church based on a BJ.

Its the tora or rota. Or whatever BS. The circle of “life” go around and come around the BJ. Getting sick of it yet. Well too bad.

Curiosity abound. What is the difference between C, see and sea? How to spell the letter C? Speaking of meekness. I beleive this is here.

Wholy mother of mary. Damned girl. Dont stop now.

But, oh well, my ass is going to keep me up all night again. I don’t want to be alive anymore. Right in the “erogenous” zone. Never goes away. Always gassy. Always sensitive. Always swollen.i dotn think im going to work again inwamt a fucken ciggarette. Diet doens tfuxken matter. Just life fucken with me since my first memeory.nothing to learn except being raped by existance. Doems tmatter if im an asshole or a savoir. Its always the same. Welcome to life man. Here a staircase. Push. Been that way ever since. For experience. Im hoing start smoking again pop a couple pills maybe ill sleep. And no one to talk to excspt degenerates criminals, foreigners that dont speak english and fags. The only thing i did different today was buy a couple snokes off some fucken cocksucker asshole that talks crap all the time. Like most of them. Probaly drugging me again as usual. Been beeing drugged since forever. Its apart of their warcraft. Been super nice to me today too. Even offered coffee. But fuck you. Last time its fucked me up. Side wffect aof the pills the guesswork doctors gave me. Are. No operating machinery and Psychosis.

Suicide is the only sin god doesnt forgive. No fuck cause you fucken dead. Wait another half hour see if the pills work and if not. Save the rest for when i get wasted and hang myself. Being muscle relaxants or some shit. The fuck if i know. Back to

Tv.

Pills worked. Mostly. Just felt warm. And now my vission is a little blurry. Doubled the dose he gave me. So 20ml is just a little too little. Last time i took a dose he gave me. It didnt do anything. I dont want ot go to work anymore. I want ot go bsck to being wnemployed and and suicidal. Less stress that way.

Oh well guess ill never know what it feels like not being abused.

Oh gid sent me a rabbit. Still dont knwo what thise mean. A croh flew past earlier.

Want people to quit smoking? How about you make them illegal and stop fucken manufacturing thr fucken things. Maybe we do need a fucken dictatorship. Anout the jobs the jobs. Fuck the job hiw many fucken immagrant do y’all invite over here and they go straight to welfare. Fuck your bs.

I fucken hate this continent. I can eat an wntire large bag of doritos and have no symtoms. Had chicken and homey yestweday. No symptoms. Had so again the next day. Was up all night. . If its at the end of the GI track. Then it can take up to 36 hours to reach that point. But apparently it can take on 15 mins to 4 hours. At leat i grt my proteins worth with a litter of yogurt everyday.

So i checked my hororscope for my birthday next year. Spyche return. And eros. Pluto sqaure pluto. Neptune sayrts in aries. Mean. Wonder if its a comming out celebration. Oh, there goes a croh. Ita ganna be a shitty day

Anyway. Excuse the insanity and despair. So for the rabbit portent. Or omen. It’s attached to lost and found. Easter bunny. This coupled to the crohs. Lost ans found something negative. But also dor the positive. For the rabbit. Seems to be. A neutral character. But, this is going off a single happening. And will need to be looked into to see if it’s a constant. Like that of the croh.

…uh. He told me his name was BJ.

I cant do it man. I cant look at an image of a woman with nig bold letters saying B J and keep a straight face.

Though inget it. It was definatally a magician chariot converstion. Empowering and all. Can’t say that it didn’t wake me a bit. Even though ive heard it all before. My own priestess. Has innocense written all over her. With a power of a logos looking over her. The magician to the empress or the emperor. As number 4. Nature and rule. Its akin to my gamma card being connected to the star. But i dont like callingnit the star. Its misleading. As there is no wish. Its retirbution. Because the falling star as it is sometimes depicted as. Is a moment to wish. A moment in the future to come. But asnit plays out. It is that moment of the future being breed from temperance. The eight pointed star is the connecting clue to the justice card. And is the calm and quiet of the night from upheaval and unease. It being a woman. Suits it perfectly.

As temperanve is a balancing of Accounts of something that shouldnt be. Waite’s version shits all over these connections. Replaces the eight pointed star connection to strength instead. Mother nature wrestling a lion roar to caressing it. Not my experience.

… ghost busters: frozen empire?

Is this to say that the summer is going to be mild and cool. As aquaman: the lost kingdom, was to the unnaturally warm winter? So, jo “intense heat this summer? The preview looked like some horrible acting. But ant-man. Isnt a greta actor anyway. Funny but. Not very good. I dont know if i should order books. I never read them. They just sit there. But i like having a library. University edition of english grammar. And the evolution of the russian language. Which is pricy. But, tarot books are inadequate and unreliable.

And what happened to my symptoms? Severe again last night. Popped a couple pills fell asleep. Instead of binging anime. Woke up the next morning and all but gone except for the very mild by comparison. Didn’t do anything different even ate a large bag of Doritos. The Polypropylene and thermoplastic resins are delicious.

Whichc must be why when people have a hard time saying something, or looking for the roght word. Most people will comenin a correct them or say “ja, i get ehat you mean.” But, i havent even pooped yet.

Erin on attack on titan finally found the ocean. The ocean and the perils within and withon. Not so different from the perils on the night. Which works as a star card. And the letter V the russian war machine placed upon their naval fleets.

Wow, women are particularly pretty today. Told you V stands for vagina.

What? They’re objects. Blame the english language.

But its monday now. Pains back. And why move away. Looks like the condition is permanent. And if i do. Ill just be forced out of where ever i land ahyway. Its a life theme. Been that way since my first memory. Seems to dissapear mostly on saterdays. I get born, tied to a higjlt toxic relationship to some plutonic fucken cocksycker that treats me like shit. Enjoying the feeling of superiority over me. Litterally. And i get tossed around from place to place for ither peoples convinience. 39 years and counting nothings changed and it has nothing to do with me. . The entire fucken plabet may burn. And i font give a fuck.