#fuck the Celtic cross spread

[kevinthetarotreader]

This is probably the best one I’ve made tbh

[lavendertarot]

okay okay I have like -10000 coherency rn but as a milgram fan who does actual tarot readings as a hobby I feel like an underrepresented part of Mikoto's whole thing in like the little nook of milgramblr I'm situated in is that like, most tarot readings you really don't tend to take each card with it's meanings at face value separately from the other cards, especially with the kind of spread we see in Mikoto's trial 1. Now ofc ofc that's just how I've been taught how to do it and spiritual mileage may vary, but traditionally the placing of the card within the spread (not just whether it's upright or reversed) will denote which meaning of the multiple meanings a card may have and the context within which to read it. Ofc with the minor arcana it's easier to get one clear meaning from it but regardless having it in the context of past/present/future/feelings etc I feel like would help to solidify more information people who are way better at theorizing than me could use, y'know?

[missredherring]

A³ S1E7 thoughts below.

Lilia!!!!

What a beautiful beautiful beautiful episode.

It's perfect. No fucking notes.

How they tied her storyline up? How they filled in her gaps? Oh gods, I was so worried that it was going to be an allusion to dementia or Alzheimer's. (And it still might be, but because of personal reasons I'm saying it's magic.)

And they gave us a lovely spread as a parting gift!

I'm going to enjoy doing the Safe Passage Spread myself. (I'm not even mad that it's a modified Celtic Cross; it was done so beautifully.)

This is hands down my favorite episode.

(ETA: ok, I take that back: I have one note. Teen's lip makeup situation was so distracting. If they're going to do full makeup, do full makeup. Don't just throw some liner n goss on. See? I don't even remember if he had any other makeup on, it was so distracting.)

[saganssorcery]

𝗗𝗮𝗶𝗹𝘆 𝗗𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: Ten of Swords and Queen of Pentacles

While we may very well feel defeated, perhaps we have been met with some horrible jealous sods who wished to attack us, or we have been betrayed and hurt in one way or another, the thing is, the higher our status, the more nasty the attacks get. People want to knock us off our throne and we’ve got to not allow ourselves to fall into the mental trappings that would only hinder us from seeing our great worth. You are powerful, prosperous, stylish and absolutely killing it, even if you're going “through it” your mental state is lying to you, remember all you have achieved and how far you have come. Unworthy people will always hate to see us rise and will attempt to bring our fall, if they can't rise as high as us it is much easier for them to try and tear us down, we’re so much better than that though. Simply keep doing what you're doing and fuck the haters, remember your worth and know you're better than anyone trying to harm you for the simple fact they feel the need to try, you're doing well even if your mind or others want to tell you otherwise.

©️Sagans Sorcery 🔥🖋️

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[hyenagurl]

gonna do a celtic cross tarot spread in the park tonight might as well embrace how fucked this situation has me

[grin-the-farouche]

currently working on a rough draft of a witchy spellwork zine. i agree, much of the published content out there nowadays is so… Witchcraft Lite™️. it feels like cosplay or playing pretend. “do a celtic cross spread! light a pink candle and hold rose quartz to manifest self love! (footnote: ALWAYS PRACTICE SAFETY AND COMMON SENSE WHEN USING FIRE, NEVER LEAVE YOUR CANDLE UNATTENDED, NEVER USE FLAMMABLE MATERIALS. you can also visualize a flame if that’s more comfortable to you!)”

it’s just so… safe and litigious-minded, y’know? everything is mapped out for you and there’s a cute little rhyming chant for everything and they write it like a helicopter mom watching their kid climb a jungle gym. like damn, loosen up. you don’t have to set your living room on fire or anything but if you’re gonna do magic then have some fucking fun with it.

anyway that’s going to be the gist of my zine.

This is going to make me sound like a cantankerous old bitch, but meh, I'm gonna say it anyway.

Witchcraft is too commercialised nowadays.

It's great to see so many witchcraft books and supplies available. I can walk into kmart or big w and find witchcraft books, tarot cards, and crystals now.

The problem, though, is that everything that's readily available to the masses (i.e. the first thing witchlings may interact with) is all so watered down to be socially acceptable that it gives a warped view to new practitioners while being simultaneously useless to experienced practitioners.

As much as I love how personalised the craft is, I genuinely wish more experienced witches published their personal grimoires and gnosis. I would love to see what others are working on/what works for them.

So here's my plea: if you're an experienced witch (I.e. practising for over 5 years and working your own path), please share a little titbit of what you're currently working/researching/crafting.

☆Marci☆

[reverse-moon]

So I did a tarot reading for a friend today.

He asked for the Celtic Cross and asked about love life in general.

Ten cards. 7 are reversed, the three major arcana he draws are part of the 7 reversed. We start reading the basic card info since my deck is more spirit animal based and so doesn't go by the normal names for all the cards (for example two of branches instead of two of wands).

First reverse card is like "you should talk about the thing, cause it's making your energy blocked. You need help."

This is my first celtic cross, mind you. His first ever tarot reading. So I remind him that cards calling people out is normal.

Second card. Calls him out for the same thing. Blocked energy or intensified negative energy about the situation.

Third card: call out

4th card: call out

5th card is an right side up card calling him out on how he has a bunch of friends who care.

Now at this point, we're dying of laughter from how hard he's being called out. I'm apologizing profusely for how blunt my deck is being because even for me (who they often are blunt for) THEY HAVE NEVER DONE ALL THE CARDS IN THE SPREAD BEING SO DIRECT.

Apollo also at this point possessed me to say "OH, THAT'S WHY IT'S REVERSED. WE'RE BACK TO THE SELF-ASSURANCE TOPIC" to him, which kills us more.

6th card: called out.

7th card I'm dying and get my mom to read for it and the last 3.

8th card: called out

9th card: called out.

10th card: hard call out.

My poor friend got called out so fucking hard on his first tarot reading all because he confessed his love to someone and wasn't sure how to handle no response (which we still don't know if that's a solid no or not, no assumptions here).

Meanwhile Apollo, god of prophecy is here laughing his ass off and making fun of my friend who just got reality checked by a Celtic Cross spread and mocking him.

He's still nervous, but he does know he needs to talk about the situation and while it's scary to him, I plan to stay by his side and help. Especially after the semi-truck my cards hit him with.

[rose-kalliope]

Y'all ever feel grief for something you know in theory existed, but you'll never be able to fully or accurately identify or reproduce

I'm thinking about that cryptotheism post earlier. The one about the origins of Samhain, Halloween, and Celtic religious practices. About how the Celts never really wrote anything down, so the only records we have of their myths and religion were recorded by chr*stian monks. They obviously came with their own biases, and injected a lot of chr*stian horseshit into it. Like so many other things, it has been lost forever.

...

I'm not going to be especially eloquent about this. Spiritually, I am alienated. I'm alienated in a lot of other ways too, but this is about spirituality. I hate the way that chr*stianity has more or less conquered the world. A man who was a radical, a pacifist, and someone who I probably would have gotten along with, is worshipped at the head of a worldwide empire that stands for exactly the opposite of everything he did. That empire spreads to new lands, converts people there at the point of a sword, and eradicates what was there before. It takes away all choice, and expects everyone to kiss at the feet of its dying and reviving god as he stands shoulder to shoulder with Capital, which sells warped and sanitized mockeries of our own traditions back to us.

It's a bleak world we live in, spiritually. I'll never know how my ancestors interacted with the spiritual world, not really. I should be, I don't know, wearing a mask and dancing around a fire at the mouth of a cave or something, and already everyone is rubbing fucking mariah carey in our faces before the Jack O'Lanterns are even extinguished.

yahweh is a bastard devil. I hate him. I hate what he's done to the world. he's a brutal, evil, hateful thing and the world would be better off without his cults. They cross the world like fire and make everything worse wherever they go. They burn everything to monolithic ash, leaving behind only slaves.

Give me back my culture, damn you. Give us all back our fucking cultures! You don't deserve this worship! You claim to be all powerful, all loving, all seeing and knowing, but then why is there so much evil in the world! Why is everything so shit! Why are we all suffering so much in your empire, you fucking bastard storm devil! The more people worship you and the more fervently, the more misery there is! You're evil! You're an evil devil, and the world would have been better off had you died thousands of years ago!

I want to interact with the divine, with the spiritual world, somehow. But all the religions I would have practiced were erased long before I was born. The temples either torn down or converted, the holy sites defiled, the rites utterly obliterated, and the figures therein made into devils. So now I'm sitting under the moon, knowing that I'm supposed to be doing something, but having no idea what it is. I play with toys invented by bored aristocrats in the 1800's and feel like a fool for trying to pull meaning from them.

The Crucified Christ with a Donor, Francisco de Zurbarán, 1640

[epsilontauri]

why are the tarot decks suggesting me this shit

that was my reading on full moon

this is the „death of“ reading. card behind death is what i have to give up, card in front is what i need to focus on

and this was today

[myfriendskickass]

The Tarot Deck based on the Dracula Novel

@vergess​

I am putting this under a cut bc shits gonna get VERY lengthy

Okay! I am not gonna preface this with an intro of what tarot is etc you can look it up. But basically there is a tarot deck that I own based directly off of Dracula, the book. (there is probably more than one, vampires are full of Symbolism and i have 2 vampire tarot decks actually, but this one is Dracula by Bram Stoker specifically.)

It is called The Vampire Tarot by Robert M Place. It looks like this:

Truthfully? I think the art is kind of ugly, the cards are SUPER HUGE compared to my tiny baby hands which makes it a bitch to shuffle, and it’s built around no reverse readings. Instead, for every 1 card you would use in a normal spread, this deck wants you to use 3. Yeah. Let that sink in for a second. A celtic cross spread uses almost the entire fucking deck by these rules.

But since Tumblr fell in love with Dracula daily and I know you all like symbolism and stuff so...here you go. These are not MY opinions as to what tarot thing symbolizes what in Dracula or Bram’s life, they are Robert Place’s. And I’m not going to be listing actual text from the booklet, it’s all paraphrasing and mostly just telling you what trump/arcana = what. The actual meanings of the trumps/arcana you can look up yourself. If you have a problem with what is linked to what, take it up with Robert, lmao. This is not a review of the deck, either. I like it, although I think the art is kind of not my taste and I wish the cards were smaller, but it was my very first deck and it holds a place in my heart.

A note: Instead of the traditional cups, wands, coins, swords, this deck uses:

Garlic = coins Stakes = staffs Holy water = cups Knives = swords.

The symbolism here, I feel, is obvious. My other two decks, including my other vampire one (which is vampires in general, not dracula specific like this deck) tend to redo the suits too, but I don’t remember what those decks changed it to. It’s not relevant here anyway.

So, here we go, starting with the Major Arcana (I describe the card art for cards that do not have a 1 to 1 equivalent) Some of these are more about the symbology of vampires as a whole vs Dracula specific:

0. The Fool - Jonathan 1. The Magician - Dracula specifically as portrayed by Bela Lugosi 2. The High Priestess - Mina 3. The Empress - The Brides 4. The Emperor - The Count 5. The Hierophant - Van Helsing 6. The Lovers - Dracula biting a woman (possibly Lucy, it is unclear) 7. The Chariot - The wagon 8. Justice - Quincey and Jon with their weapons in front of Drac’s castle 9. The Hermit - Dracula pre-meeting Jonathan 10. Wheel of Fortune - Fate, as in, three Fates of greek myth 11. Strength - female vampire, implied to be Lucy, using vampire powers 12. The Hanged Man - Renfield 13. Death - Drac being staked 14. Temperance - vampires feeding from an animal without killing it 15. The Devil - a devil holding a scholar on a leash in the setting of the Carpathian mountains 16. The Tower - the road to Dracula’s castle 17. The Star - a vampire bringing his bride up stairs (the preface quote is what Drac says after turning Mina) 18. The Moon - a female vampire made of moonlight 19. The Sun - a vampire running from the sun 20. Judgement - vampire coming out of his coffin 21. The World - Mina in her half vampire half human state

For the minor suits, I’m only gonna do the face cards, because that’s where the juicy character/human symbolism is. Most of these are IRL people who were Bram Stoker’s contemporaries. Remember the suit change listed above:

Knave of Holy Water - Carmilla (the original novella character, not the modern webseries) Knight of Holy Water - Joseph Thomas Sheridan Le Fanu, author of Carmilla Queen of Holy Water - Pamela Coleman Smith King of Holy Water - Sir Henry Irving

Knave of Knives - The Night-Mare of Life-in-Death Knight of Knives - Samuel Taylor Coleridge Queen of Knives - Ellen Terry King of Knives - Fucking Lord Byron

Knave of Garlic Flowers - Lord Ruthven Knight of Garlic Flowers - John Polidori Queen of Garlic Flowers - Florence Stoker King of Garlic Flowers - Bramothy himself

Knave of Stakes - Ligea Knight of Stakes - Edgar Allen Poe Queen of Stakes - Charlotte Stoker King of Stakes - Franz Lizst

There isn’t really a lot of Seward? He might show up in the minor numbered cards, I’d have to check. But if anybody has any questions, let me know and I will try to answer them the best I can. I am not a Dracula scholar, I’m just a nerd who likes tarot and vampires, lol.

[say-narry]

Ride it

Characters: Harry!husband x Reader

Word count: ~1.8K

Warnings: insinuations, oral sex, explicit sex

Author's note: I don't know much about basketball, but here it is. Again, English is not my first language.

Versão em PT-BR

***

I felt that sometimes Harry didn't learn how competitive I was, even after years of marriage. We had a bet on which of our favorite basketball teams would win tonight and well, I won.

We were at an NBA championship game, me rooting for my big Lakers and Harry for the Celtics.

Between dunks and shots, Lakers won 81-71. It was a good game for both teams and even better for me.

I avoided my little victory dance so as not to hurt Harry, he hated to lose and I knew how hurt he was like a kid without dessert, so since he had lost, I just clapped my hands and smiled.

After leaving the crowd that came to take a picture with Harry, even the Lakers fans, we had made it into the car. I just glared suggestively at Harry and he just ignored me or stuck out his tongue like a tantruming child.

What can I do? He invented this and also the payment of the bet, my team just did their job.

We put on our seat belts and Harry started the car.

Harry hummed softly and I bit the ligaments in my fingers with my elbow against the car door, while H drove through the streets of Los Angeles.

The music had changed from quiet to more upbeat, I loved it, and like cartoons, a light bulb went on above my head.

I still hadn't thought for sure what my prize would be, but Harry, if I had won we would have to do heavier banter in public, since I was very reserved being a kindergarten teacher, but I think I might go further tonight.

"Let it be, let it be, let it be known..." I began "Touching and teasing me, telling me no, but this time I need to feel you..." I held Harry's hand that rested on the backrest between us. He pulled it lightly and kissed it, without taking his lips off the road, I couldn't wait to have fun tonight.

***

We arrived a few minutes later, I went to the bathroom in our suite while Harry activated our house alarm.

I literally ran through the shower, grabbed the lilac silk camisole that barely covered my buttocks. I had bought it the day after we had placed the bet, but I hadn't told Harry, I wanted him to have fun too if I won.

Grabbing my perfume from the huge shelf in our bathroom, I sprayed it on my neck, between my breasts and wrists. I untied my hair and that was it.

A beautiful hot girl.

I lay down in the middle of our bed and crossed my legs waiting for Harry to arrive, I grabbed my cell phone that I had left on the bedside table and looked for a song in the playlist setting it on the TV installed on the wall of the room.

"Babe, how about we plant..." Harry opened the door and faced me "...Daisies outside, but what's that? I lost the bet..." His mischievous grin appeared in moments.

"We can both win the bet, Mr. Styles." I blinked returning the smile.

Harry was wearing a white button down shirt with sleeves, there was a Celtics logo printed on it with dark maroon pants matching the top and black all stars.

His hand hooked on the first button of his blouse, but I stopped him.

"No sir... I want to see you take off your clothes, but slowly and with background music." I lifted my body and spread my legs a little, giving Harry the view to see that I was wearing the panties he loved most on my body.

Grabbing the TV remote, I put the music on. Harry had his hands resting on his waist, his cheeks had blushed repeatedly and his head was shaking negatively.

"Come on, baby... This will be my prize," I whimpered a little.

"A strip tease, honey? You swear?" He laughed nervously, he really didn't expect it.

"I've already done it for you and you know how much I like this song. I stood up and went bouncing over to Harry, his hands sliding from my waist to my buttocks, where I could feel his fingers pressing hard into my flesh to the point where I could feel the frosting of his rings.

Kissing the jaw that I idolized so much, I moved slowly down to Harry's neck, and he closed his eyes with a sigh and nodded.

I kissed him and turned my back to the edge of the bed, biting my lips to hold back my victory shout.

I went back to the music from the beginning after groping around the bed for my cell phone, Harry had dimmed the light even more, letting only the brightness of the full moon shining through the glass illuminate his body.

Harry's fingers slowly unbuttoned his shirt, slowly revealing the tattoo of birds and the butterfly on top of his belly.

He looked down at me, his eyes staring into mine as I felt my breathing become heavy. I didn't deny how much power Harry had over me, nothing to do with S&M, but he exuded sympathy and sensuality, and it held me in a surprising way.

As soon as he finished unbuttoning his shirt, it fell from his shoulders to the floor, I don't know if he had done it on purpose as I rambled on, but the V-shaped line giving the path to my happiness was showing in conjunction with the branch tattoos.

I could feel my panties getting wet. Harry blinked slowly at me, which made me bite my lips as a reflex.

Holding the button of his pants like it was the heaviest thing in the world, Harry brought out his tattooed biceps, I wanted him to hold me tight with those arms and I had Harry's physical trainer to thank for that, he really went all out with his training routines.

The button on his pants was like a signal to come back from my thoughts "Stop dreaming and focus on me, (Y/N), I'm here and I'm your man!"

Okay, I am no longer feeling my legs, only the river that had formed between them.

Walking slowly over to me, Harry held my face tilting it so that I could look at him. I struggled to find words due to the closeness and warmth being emanated from the palm of his hands. "I'm just admiring you, Hazz..."

Leaning his face up to my ear, Harry let out "I make you hot, baby girl?" I closed my eyes and when I opened them, I noticed his erection strongly marking his pants, making my mouth water, I just moaned softly in agreement.

With that, he planted a kiss just below my ear before continuing down my neck and along my collarbone. His teeth brushed against my skin a few times, but the feel of his tongue soothing each spot made me cry out for him between softer moans.

Over the top of the sweater, he reached for my breasts, Harry kneading them, until his fingers laced through the shoulder straps and down my arms.

Putting one knee between my legs, Harry slipped his arm around my waist and pushed my body to the middle of the bed.

Lying on top of me and with my breasts already showing, he deftly caressed one while his mouth worked on another nipple, gently flicking and swirling his tongue around it.

I arched my back involuntarily and my fingers tugged at his hair with the sensation. "Harry." I sighed his name between the faint moans escaping my lips.

"You are as sweet as your scent, my woman," he murmurs against my skin. "I need to taste you for the rest of my life, know this."

"Hmm" I murmur as he moves to stand between my legs, gently pulling my panties down in one swift motion. He settles into place, kissing the inside of my thigh, stopping before where I needed it most, doing the same with my other thigh. "Stop teasing," I beg.

Harry chuckled lightly. "Patience, dear."

But as soon as the words are out of his mouth, he runs his finger through my folds, stopping at my clit, applying enough pressure to make my head fall back against the pillow.

He quickly replaces his finger with his mouth, kissing my clit before sliding his tongue down my slit, teasing my already wet entrance.

Harry places his mouth back on my clit, swirling his tongue around and flicking it. He hums against me, enjoying the noises he is causing in me, and my back arches out of the bed.

"Don't stop," I exhale with my eyes closed.

I feel him shove two fingers inside me, and from that moment on, I that I wouldn't last much longer. As he pumped his fingers firmly, I could feel that euphoria approaching fast.

"I'm going to cum," I grunted. "Fuck!"

"Mhm," he hums against me, "But already, my love?"

My eyes close harder as the orgasm coursed through my body.

My thighs trembled as Harry continues to work. He slowed the movement of his fingers and used his other hand to rub his side gently.

When I opened my eyes again, his face was in front of me. "Hi," he whispers and leans in for a brief kiss.

Time to reciprocate, I thought already stretching my hand towards his member, he interrupts me by grabbing my wrist and I face him "Today is about the winner...," he says. "And now, I need to be inside you." "I like that, love..." I confessed. With a teasing laugh, Harry kneels between my legs and removes his pants with his underwear, leaving his cock pointed up and with its lubricated little head in my field of vision.

Without time to think much, my admiration turns into a groan as I feel him begin to thrust into me.

"Great game, lovie!" he teases and I let out a gasping laugh. He gives me a second to relax and adjust, nudging his side and taking my hand, intertwining my fingers with his.

"Still with me?"

I exhale and smile at him. "Yes, keep going."

It takes a few strokes before he is fully in me, Harry sets a steady pace, and I revel in the pleasure.

"Shit," he utters. "Do you feel as good as I do, baby?"

I can't say much except moan as I feel him stretching me taut. Harry places his thumb on my clit and begins rubbing in tight circles. My eyes almost roll back, and I can feel the next orgasm growing inside me.

"I'm close," he groans hoarsely. "I want you to cum with me, baby."

I whimper as I hear his tone and nod my head. His movements become faster and his breathing becomes more irregular.

"Oh, God," I say choking, as my body begins to tremble with his second orgasm. "So good, Harry..."

The supreme sensation makes me involuntarily squeeze his member inside me. Harry stands still and settles down, and with a groan, I feel him release himself inside me.

He rests his forehead against my shoulder as we both try to catch our breath. I rub his back slowly, feeling my fingernails leave some marks.

When he lifts his head, Harry had a few drops of sweat all over his face, but without taking my beloved smile away... "I never thought I would say this, but I hope the Lakers win more often from now on."

I give a muffled laugh stealing a kiss.

Lakers... win again, please.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hey you! If you like it, please tell me to keep encouraging me.

[lunapwrites]

Haven't been tarot posting for a while because I've been putting all of my spare time into a cycle of writing and self care and also this past weekend has been... Hellish. So I'm going to make up for this by doing two, mainly because I just... Needed to do two today.

So we're going to set the scene with a standard "how'd your weekend go, LP?" 3 card spread.

Yeah. That's uh. Yeah.

I... actually can't really bring myself to do a full read of these lol, so uh. In order:

Ten of Swords: Oh shit oh fuck--

The Tower, reversed: this is fine THIS IS FINE--

Six of Wands, reversed: (screen darkens) [YOU HAVE DIED] -> (Jocat voice) "Congrats, you're better at the game than you were five seconds ago."

On the plus side, this was about the worst it could have gotten, so... Now we're in the reconstruction phase. Which means I went for a full on Celtic Cross spread to get the most context and direction.

This is... More promising.

Temperance in this position indicates that I am seeking a point of balance, compromise, and calm. Sounds good, right? Reasonable, even.

Eight of Cups (reversed): I currently feel stuck, and like I don't know what to do. (Aka: my freeze response is acting up, because of course it is.)

The Star is reinforcing the calm/balanced energies from Temperance. Hey, look at that: I have hope.

Four of Swords here is reminding me that I took some time recently to take a step back and get a little perspective, and reassess. (:bonk: Not everything has to be push-push-push all the time, LP!!!)

Knight of Pentacles: I have a plan, and I'm willing (and able!) to put in the work. That little glimmer of hope? I am following it carefully but doggedly.

Five of Pentacles: (Disclaimer: so, interestingly enough, my deck deviates majorly from the standard Rider-Waite interpretation for this card -- I usually cross-reference while I'm checking things over because my brain is Swiss cheese and I don't remember what everything means beyond vibes. Because this is the deck I'm using, I'm sticking with what my deck says, which THANKFULLY is nowhere near as negative.) Anyway. There is a period of rest and relaxation ahead -- literally, we're going away this weekend lol. It should help.

Ace of Pentacles here is telling me that I'm giving myself the green light to go ahead with my plans. I'm feeling more secure and safe to make the moves I wanted to make, and the suggestions I wanted to suggest. Optimism is at a high.

Eight of Pentacles tells me I'm not going to be the only one working at making the changes that need to be made. It will be a joint effort. This is very encouraging.

Herald of Pentacles in this position is also very hopeful: I am approaching this as a period of learning and growth and I am determined to take the tools and resources I now have at my disposal and build something great.

Finally, the King of Cups here is the culmination of that calm, balance, and stability from Temperance. Patience and compassion as I stay the course will be key, but should bring us to a good place in the end. Overall, this indicates success.

Thank fuck.

[ot3]

hi! i had some questions about the tarot spread in the 5th part of your ace attorney comic? i was curious so i looked all the cards up and looked up how a 10 card spread works, and i get most of it, but i had a few questions if you feel like elaborating? its fine if not though, whether for spoiler reasons or cant be fucked going through all of that reasons haha. anyway, if you feel like answering, the questions are below! thanks regardless! looking up the tarot has been super interesting, and i love the 6 of cups & king of swords paired for present postion/immediate influence... so obsessed. also page of cups for phoenix!! so good. and card 9, 2 of cups, is also just... god... so good... overall its all just so cool

mostly i was wondering what card 4, the 5 of clubs/wands meant. card 4 is distant past, and i was wondering what competition/rivalry/conflict was in his distant past?? unless it was dl6 which makes sense with the conflict bit.

i was also curious about card 5, ace of cups? its recent past events, so i assumed dahlia/iris, but it seems to be a fairly positive card? new feelings, spirituality, intuition, etc.

also unsure about cards 6 (future influence, 3 of swords, heart-break, suffering, grief) and 10 (final result, 10 of swords, faliure, collapse, major disaster) - surely one of them is about mia dying, but if one is, the other probably isnt, so i was unsure about which was which? and what the card that isnt about mias death means. this is probably the one that will have spoilers depending on how close u follow the canon storyline i guess

sure i don't mind at all! for the most part the events are gonna be very very similar to how they are in canon, QM has always been more of a character piece than a narrative piece. anything really divergent will most likely be confined to near endgame of the trilogy.

but actually, the order of the cards you're working with isn't the same as the order of the cards I was taught for the celtic cross, so you're a bit off! there's a few different variants of the cross. here's more or less how i learned it growing up

so in this setup, the 5 of wands there is actually in a future position, in this case, referring pretty literally to the courtroom antics to come. (funnily enough this is one of the cards i'm illustrating for the AA tarot project that's going on right now.)

then once again the ace of cups is not in a past position, but in a present position. the ace of cups is one of the rather unambiguously love-oriented cards, especially when paired with the two of of cups in a spread like it is here. in this version of the celtic cross this position is for the subconscious elements that are influencing your situation. for phoenix at this stage, that subconscious element is just How deep and severe his feelings for edgeworth are.

and that once again leaves the past/future getting flipped here. that three of swords is in the past - a past betrayal, here referring to dahlia's attempt to kill him.

mia dying is actually not represented in this spread because 1. she doesn't die in quantum meruit this has always been a mia lives au and 2. this spread is much more specifically oriented around phoenix's relationship to edgeworth than anything else. the ten of swords here is directly referring to edgeworth's future suicide nonsense at the end of AA1 because in a sense that's the 'final outcome' of phoenix's decision to become a lawyer to try and save edgeworth.

i'm glad you looked into it it makes me really happy when people take the time to dig through my comic with enough of a critical eye to actually go look up the damn tarot meanings ! hope it makes a little bit more sense to you now in full with the respective card position and meanings

[let-the-dream-begin]

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 8: Coincidence

Chapter 7

Read on AO3

A few sessions at the stables passed since Claire and Jamie’s discussion about his brother. Claire had felt uneasy that first week, seeing him after he’d shared something so private with her, but he seemed to be none the wiser to her discomfort, nor did he have any of his own. He was chipper as ever and didn’t treat her or Faith any differently. It was strange knowing something so viscerally painful about this man’s life and going on with him as usual, like it was normal for them to have shared something like that. Claire supposed she should have been uncomfortable, but as more and more weeks passed by since that day, she felt nothing but at ease in his presence.

Additionally, as time went on, Claire was becoming more comfortable in her new role at the hospital. Joe was becoming a true friend. They could often be found hiding in the same corners, drinking coffee together, or taking lunch together. He’d shown her pictures of his family and she of hers, having to confess then that Faith’s father was not in the picture. Upon revealing the whole story, Joe had looked at her calmly from across the table they were sharing and said, very simply:

“Fuck Frank.”

They kept making plans for Faith and Claire to come to his house for dinner, which, of course, kept getting thwarted by conflicting schedules. It was a running joke between the two that they were actually only pretending to like one another, and making excuses to avoid going to each other’s homes.

God, she was grateful to have him.

For that matter, she was quite grateful for Mary Hawkins as well. While Claire didn’t see her in person anymore since Faith had switched appointment times, the sweet girl was always checking in with her over Facebook Messenger, asking her how Faith was adjusting. They, too, kept making plans to get lunch that were always put on hold, aside from the one time they’d managed to meet at a Starbucks for five minutes before Faith started panicking about the noise. Mary had been beside herself with apologies over Messenger, and Claire spent several minutes calming her down as well as Faith.

It would appear that a social life was always just out of reach for Claire. Oh well. Maybe someday. She was trying, after all.

The Facebook group of other moms was comforting as well, and even though Claire was hardly active in it, the sense of camaraderie she felt reading stories and seeing events planned for their children was uplifting to say the least. She often found herself wishing that Faith was able to enjoy these events, and that she had the time in her schedule with the hospital to even attempt them.

Maybe someday.

The equine therapy did seem to be helping, and so did Faith’s time with Mrs. Lickett. Claire had confirmed with her to make sure it wasn’t hopeful-mummy-blinders making her think so, and she’d agreed. There was improvement, however small, from the time Mrs. Lickett had met Faith. She did not have meltdowns with any less frequency, but they were the slightest bit easier to be talked down from. Not all of them, of course. It would be a while, or perhaps never, until Faith was entirely capable of stopping a meltdown once it started. But Mrs. Lickett seemed pleased with her progress nonetheless.

Claire was coming home to different crafts and drawings every day, and these past few weeks, they were all Halloween themed. Colored plates with google-eyes and construction paper glued together to look like pumpkins, bats, and Frankensteins, little ghosts on string made out of cotton balls glued to white paper, and even (with Claire’s permission) lollipops covered in tissue to look like ghosts. Claire was enjoying copying the faces that Faith and Mrs. Lickett had drawn on them to make Faith laugh before unwrapping them to eat.

Claire even considered picking up some pumpkins at a grocery store on her way home from work so she could try her hand at carving them with Faith. Claire’s unconventional upbringing had not left room for such frivolities, and Frank had never been interested in the mess it would make in the house, so Claire had never actually done it before. But the thought of trying something new with her daughter in their new life was thrilling to her.

Toni had informed them yesterday at the stables that for Halloween week, the kids could wear a costume, as long as they were able to ride safely in it. Claire was thrilled; she knew she couldn't actually spend Halloween with Faith or take her trick-or-treating, so to get to see her in costume, even not on the actual holiday, would be a comfort. She and Mrs. Lickett had discussed perhaps allowing her to take Faith trick-or-treating herself before Claire got home from work, but nothing had been solidified yet. 

On Saturday morning after breakfast, Claire led Faith into her bedroom. Faith had a purple trunk in her room that she and Claire had adorned with countless princess stickers over the years, containing all of her dress-up costumes.

“Alright, Faith. Who will it be this year?” They sat down in front of the trunk together, Claire lifting the lid. “Which princess do you want to be when you ride Pippi this week?”

Faith often put the costumes on and wore them around the house, and now the apartment. This was only her fourth Halloween, so she hadn’t used them all for the holiday, but they had all certainly been used. Her first Halloween, Claire had put her in an adorable Dumbo costume. Her second, she was a precious little Minnie Mouse, and her third, she was Elsa, of course.

As she watched Faith dig through the trunk, her eyes fiery with excitement, Claire was sure she’d go for Anna this year. She was certain that if it were possible to wear two costumes at once, she would have been both Anna and Elsa last year.

So Claire was surprised when Faith pulled out a blue-green dress with Celtic trim.

“Merida?” Claire said, smiling through her furrowed brows. “That’s who you want to be this year?”

Claire certainly had no objection, but Brave had never particularly been one of Faith’s favorites.

Faith took the lid of the trunk from Claire and began repeatedly poking her finger into one of the stickers. Claire looked closer, and an enormous grin spread over her face as it dawned on her.

It was a sticker of Merida, riding her horse, bow and arrow aimed.

“Yes, darling!” Claire laughed, hugging Faith from behind and pulling her into her lap, sitting cross-legged. “You’re going to be just like Merida and Angus when you ride Pippi! Is that right?” She kissed her cheek repeatedly and tickled her. “Is that right?”

Faith giggled incessantly and squirmed to get out of her mother’s grip, but not before Claire planted one last kiss to her cheek. Dizzy with giddiness, Claire began cleaning up the mess that Faith had made of her costumes, and it wasn’t long before she heard the beginning of Brave coming from the tellie. Apparently, Faith had been getting the hang of the DVD player by herself. The Scottish burr of the protagonist caught Claire’s ear, and she paused, lingering on the Cinderella dress she’d just picked up.

Jamie is Scottish.

Her mind was suddenly treated to the image of Jamie’s face lighting up upon recognizing the Celtic patterns on the costume, and upon Claire telling him that Faith was dressed as a Scottish princess. Perhaps he would know without needing to be told. Was Brave popular in Scotland, or was that a sweeping generalization?

Either way, she couldn't shake the thought of those blue eyes, impossibly bright, his smile ridiculously wide (and crooked), his deep, chesty laugh. Yes, he would certainly get a kick out of Faith’s costume of choice. Faith certainly didn’t know that Merida and Mister Jamie shared heritage, unless she had some uncanny ability to place accents that Claire was unaware of. She’d chosen Merida this year because of her newfound love of riding horses, and it just so happened that the best rider out of the whole line-up of princesses in her chest was also the only Scottish one.

Claire shook her head, laughing as she closed up the trunk again.

Bloody funny coincidence.

——

Friday came, and Claire found herself almost as giddy as her four-year-old daughter. She was over the moon at Faith's excitement as she pulled the costume over her head. 

"Now where did my little Faith go?" Claire said absurdly. "She was here just a moment ago, but she's been replaced with a Scottish princess!"

Faith gave a shrieking giggle and bounced up and down, jiggling her hands. Claire laughed out loud.

"Do a twirl for me, Princess, let me see."

Faith began spinning, the skirts of the dress poofing out. This was somewhat of a tradition for them. Whenever Faith wore a dress, costume or not, Faith loved to twirl and see the skirt flutter as she did.

"Look at you!" Claire said, clapping her hands. "Miss Toni is going to be so excited, and Pippi, and all the kids, and Erica." Faith dashed to her bed to retrieve Horsie. "And Mister Jamie, too. Mister Jamie will be very excited." Claire felt a rush of excitement herself, thinking of his face when he laid eyes on Faith.

"Alright, Princess. Off we go." Claire stood up and took Faith's hand, leading her out of her room. "Go get your pumpkin." Faith grasped the trick-or-treat pumpkin that was sitting on the coffee table. Claire knew it wasn't going to be filled at the stables as it would be on the actual holiday, but since she couldn't be there while Faith actually trick-or-treated, she wanted to be able to see her holding it in her costume for today.

"Can Mummy get a picture, lovie? Please?" Claire stood back with her phone. "Can you smile, Princess? Please?" Faith was holding the plastic pumpkin in front of her face, shaking her head.

"For Auntie Gillian, Faith," Claire pleaded. "You know she loves to see you in your costume, and Merida is her favorite! Please, darling."

At the mention of her beloved godmother, Faith changed her tune. She moved the pumpkin away and had an excited look on her face, and Claire immediately snapped the picture. She got a few more of Faith in various stages of excitement.

"Thank you, baby. You're a very good girl." Claire kissed her head and quickly sent the photos to Gillian, typing:

We went Full-Scot this year! How proud are you??

Her heart light, Claire led Faith down the stairs and to the car. Once Claire settled into the driver's seat after Faith was all buckled, her phone buzzed and she opened it to see a slew of messages from Gillian:

Gillian [4:32]: OMG!! LOOK AT HER!!

Gillian [4:32]: What a doll!! Tell her Auntie G says she looks beautiful!!

Gillian [4:33]: SCOTLAND! SCOTLAND! SCOTLAND!

Claire chuckled to herself, shaking her head as she put her phone in her purse.

"Auntie G says you look beautiful, darling." Claire flashed a smile into the rear view mirror, and Faith hummed contentedly. Claire had deliberately left Faith’s curls untamed today in an attempt to mimic Merida's hair the best she could without the wild red color. She was damn proud of how adorable her daughter looked.

When they arrived at the stable, Claire was certain Faith could have rocketed into the sky given how high she was jumping with excitement. When they entered the welcome center, there was a wide assortment of princesses, superheroes and Star Wars characters. Claire's smile widened to see Toni wearing tiny pigtail braids and a blue checkered dress.

"Not in Kansas anymore, are you?" Claire said. Toni looked up from her computer and her face lit up.

"Oh my goodness! Look at you!" Toni squealed with delight, standing up from behind the counter and stretching her body over it. "Princess Faith lives up to her title! You look amazing Faith!"

Faith hummed and twirled back and forth, swishing the skirts.

"Hello, Faith," Erica said sweetly, donning plaid, pigtails, and a cowgirl hat with matching boots. "I love your costume. Mister Jamie is going to love it."

"Oh wait until you see him!" Toni squealed.

"What do you mean — ?"

At that moment, the back door opened, revealing a little Captain America and his mother, followed by the most astonishing thing Claire had seen all day.

Mister Jamie was wearing a kilt. And a shoulder sash that matched, and tall boots, and a brooch, and a sporran.

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.

"He does this every year," Toni said, laughing. "A Highlander for Halloween, every day of the week!"

Claire couldn't stop staring long enough to respond.

"Alright Captain America, sir!" Jamie boomed, reaching behind the counter and producing a fistful of candy. "Here's yer bounty, lad. 'Twas a pleasure riding wi' America's finest." Little Nolan was beaming, and his mother was too. "Have a great Halloween, Mrs. Weiss. See ye next week."

As the two of them departed toward the front door, Toni looked like she was going to explode.

"Jamie! Jamie, look!" She was incessantly swatting at his shoulder.

He finally obliged her, looking down at Faith, and every mental image Claire had conjured over the course of the week didn't even come close to the real thing.

She didn't think his eyes had ever been bluer, or his smile more crooked, or his cheeks more pink.

"Well, what do we have here?" He crouched down in front of Faith, and the fabric of his kilt slid up to reveal his knees. "Is this a real Scottish princess right before my eyes?"

Faith gave another squealing giggle, bouncing up and down. What happened next was nothing short of astonishing. Faith, Claire's daughter that did not -- under any circumstances -- allow anyone but her mother to lay a hand on her, all of a sudden thrust her hands onto the plaid of his shoulder sash. 

Claire's stomach lurched, about to launch into a speech about boundaries and personal space, but Jamie put up a hand to stop her, his eyes never leaving Faith.

"D'ye like my tartan, Miss Merida?" He was entranced by Faith, who was equally as mesmerized. She must have recognized the clothing from the film; all the men in Brave dressed nearly identical to how Jamie looked.

Her little fingers began circling his silver brooch, and Jamie’s chest expanded with pride. “That’s the Fraser brooch, has our motto on it as well. D’ye like it?” Faith just hummed and bounced again. “I’m glad to hear that. I like yer dress verra much. Ye look bonny.”

Claire sucked in a sharp breath upon realizing that her mouth had been hanging open since Jamie had appeared, and she snapped her lips together.

“This is just too perfect,” Toni gushed, coming out from behind the camera. “I have to get a picture of this for the wall. If you don’t mind?”

“No, of course, go ahead.” Claire threw a quick glance at the wall to her right, containing hundreds of photos of children on horses, getting high-fives from therapists, group photos at holiday gatherings, and so many more. To think of her daughter stuck up there among the throng made her heart swell.

She truly does belong here.

She watched in awe as Faith cooperated without question for the photo, not even attempting to cover her face. She was smiling the most cheesy smile Claire had ever seen on her daughter’s face, and Jamie’s was almost just as wide. Claire quickly shuffled beside Toni to get a picture for her phone as well. She sent it to Gillian before putting her phone away:

You won’t believe this. Faith’s therapist is an honest-to-God Highlander, and he wore this.

Pictures taken, Toni took Faith’s candy pumpkin and put it behind the counter for safekeeping.

“Are ye ready then, Princess Merida? To ride yer noble steed?” Jamie stood up and started walking toward the back door, and Claire had to scramble to grab her hand before she was out the door and a mile ahead of them.

“And where’s yer costume, Sassenach?” Jamie smirked, walking backwards as usual.

“The memo I got said the children were to dress up, not the parents,” she said, playfully defensive. “Besides, I haven’t worn a Halloween costume since I was still a teenager.”

“Och, ye’re no fun then, are ye?” he said with an emphatic wave of his hand. “How did ye celebrate the holiday all these years?”

“I didn’t go to those wild parties in college, or med school for that matter.” She shrugged indifferently. “Just watched a movie with my roommate, if we even had time for that.”

“And after that? Ye never dressed up with yer wean?”

Something dark clouded Claire’s mind for the smallest moment.

“You can’t be serious.”

“It’s her first Halloween! I think it would be sweet if — ”

“It’s a sweet idea. But you are a grown woman, darling.”

She shook her head. “No.”

Jamie didn’t miss how her face had fallen, how clipped her response had been. His brows crinkled together in concern. If he wanted to say something, he didn’t, and they passed the rest of the way to the stable in silence, save Faith’s incessant giggling.

Erica and Jamie got Faith settled with holding the reins, and then Jamie hung back, as usual, while Erica led Faith to the riding hall.

“Is it real?” Claire said abruptly, and he looked at her with confusion. “What I mean is…is the material authentic?”

“Oh.” He grinned, nodding in understanding. “Aye, ’tis. This is real Fraser tartan, in my family fer generations.”

“It’s lovely,” Claire said. “You only ever wear it on Halloween?”

“Mostly, but not only. Wore it to my sister’s wedding a few years back, our Ma’s funeral before that.” He said it so casually, but her heart strained to hear it. How much had this man suffered…?

“Special occasions, tradition, ye ken,” he said. “I just like to show it off on the days I’m allowed to stand out a bit.”

He winked, and Claire felt her cheeks get hot.

“What is it?” she said, eyeing the brooch. “The Fraser motto?”

He made a noise in the back of his throat and removed it from the plaid, handing it over to her. She held it close and ran her fingers over the letters.

“Je suis prest,” she read. “I am ready.”

He seemed taken aback at first by her perfect pronunciation and her translation, but then he smiled widely. “Aye.”

“Ready for what?” she teased, handing him back the delicate silver.

He smirked as he put it back in its place, then peered up at her through his lashes. “Anything.”

——

Claire watched contentedly as Faith rode, once again in awe at the sheer insanity of the coincidence that her daughter and her therapist had both chosen Highlander apparel for Halloween. It was like watching a deleted scene from Brave: the princess’s father teaching little Merida to ride.

And then she shook her head clear of that thought, admonishing herself for allowing such an inappropriate thought.

“Did you plan that?” A voice filled her ears, and she jumped.

“Hm?” She turned to see a mom looking at her, someone she’d come to know as Mrs. Beardsley in the weeks that she and Faith had been coming to the stables at this time.

“Did you plan that, you and Mister Jamie?”

“No, not at all,” Claire said, laughing. “She picked it because Merida rides a horse. I had no idea he was going to wear that.”

Mrs. Beardsley chuckled. “That’s pretty funny.”

“Isn’t it?” Claire glanced over at Kezzie, Mrs. Beardsley’s son. He was dressed like Superman, and his therapist was praising him in sign language. “He looks adorable, too.”

Mrs. Beardsley thanked her, and they continued watching their children in amiable silence. Claire had snapped about a million pictures of Faith on her horse, with and without Jamie in the frame. When they were back in the stable, Pippi brushed and helmet removed, Claire requested just one more picture.

“Could I get one of her with Pippi before you put her away? Without the helmet?” she asked Jamie shyly.

“Aye, of course.” He smiled warmly.

Claire snapped as many as she could, and though Faith was staring at Pippi rather than ever looking at the camera, she didn’t mind at all.

“Alright, got it.”

Jamie grinned and went to take the reins to put Pippi away, but Faith would not move at first. She was nuzzling her face into Pippi’s snout, and Jamie apparently couldn't bring himself to move either of them just yet. Unbeknownst to either Faith or Jamie, Claire snapped a final picture:

Faith mesmerized by her horse, and Jamie mesmerized by Faith.

She would not be sending that one to Gillian.

They returned to the welcome center, and Toni put some candy in Faith’s pumpkin, causing her to squeal with excitement again. Jamie lathered his hands in hand sanitizer before plunging his hand into a bowl full of little yellow, orange, and white triangles.

“What on Earth is that?” Claire scrunched up her nose.

“Ye’ve never heard of candy corn, Sassenach?” Jamie said playfully. “It’s quite American, I suppose.”

She chuckled. “Should I try it, then? Since I’m American now?”

“Aye, suppose ye should.”

Claire cleaned her hands as well before taking one of the little triangles into her fingers and popping it into her mouth. As she bit into it, her taste buds were immediately assaulted by the most sickening sweetness she’d ever tasted. Her face screwed up in disgust, and Jamie burst into laughter.

“That bad, is it?” he said, his laughter rumbling in his chest. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him laugh so hard.

“It’s revolting,” Claire said, not even wanting to swallow it. “I practically want to spit it out.”

He laughed harder at that, tears leaking from his eyes. “I’m sorry, Sassenach. I didna think ye’d be so appalled.”

“You either love it or you hate it, at least in my experience,” Toni said. “I could’ve told you she’d hate it.”

Claire did not miss the look he gave her in response, but she didn't have time to contemplate its intention.

She reluctantly swallowed the grainy sweetness, and she shuddered in disgust. “Christ. Remind me to never try anything you give me again.”

“Will do,” he said, laughter finally subsiding. “What sort of sweets d’ye like, then, if this was too much fer ye?”

“Richer things, for sure. Chocolate.”

“Ghirardelli or Lindt?” Toni chimed in. “The Lindt truffles are my favorite.”

“Oh, I couldn’t choose, I love both,” Claire said. Jamie popped another handful of candy corn into his mouth, and Claire upturned her nose. “I can’t imagine eating handfuls of that when such a thing as Lindt truffles exist.”

“Dinna yuck someone else’s yum, Sassenach. Must I talk to ye like ye’re one of the kids?” He gave her a mocking look of warning, and she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, I love sour candy too,” Claire said. “If there are any sour patch kids in that bucket I may have to steal them.” She gestured to Faith’s little pumpkin.

“Here’s an extra one, just for mom,” Toni said, plucking a little bag of the sour candy from the bowl behind the counter and handing it to Claire.

“Thanks.” Claire smiled warmly, putting it in her purse. “Well, I guess we should be off, then.” Claire took Faith’s hand. “Say goodbye to the Scottish warrior, Faith.”

Claire gave Jamie a smirk, and he grinned back at her.

“S’long Merida,” Jamie said. “It’s been a pleasure.” He gave a ridiculously low bow, and Faith giggled. It took a moment for Claire to realize that she was giggling herself.

“Bye-bye, Princess!” Toni said, and Erica echoed.

Faith waved gleefully, yanking Claire toward the door, never one to delay her McDonald’s.

“Happy Halloween, Sassenach,” Jamie said warmly, hands resting on the belt holding his kilt up.

She flashed a final grin at him before Faith’s tugging won out, and they were out the door and walking toward the car.

Claire buckled in her squirming little girl, and she absently thought that it might be a struggle to get her to sleep tonight. Today was so wonderful, however, that she didn’t care at all.

Once Claire was settled in the driver’s seat, she reached into her purse to check her phone, having heard it go off several times while she was otherwise occupied. She chuckled softly to see five messages from Gillian, and then opened them:

Gillian [4:54]: holy hell Claire

Gillian [4:54]: ye’ve got to be JOKING

Gillian [4:54]: THAT is her therapist???

Gillian [4:54]: he is the hottest bloody man I’ve ever seen in my life

Gillian [4:54]: and he’s in a feckin KILT

Gillian [4:55]: if you don’t get on that i’m booking a flight and getting on it myself

Claire sucked in a sharp breath and threw her phone into the passenger seat, every muscle in her body stiffening.

As if the damn woman could sense from an ocean away that Claire was ignoring her texts, her phone buzzed again.

Gillian [6:12]: well? am I booking a flight? ;)

Claire [6:12]: Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, G.

[afriendlyblackhottie]

Ransom Drysdale Must Die (Chapter One)

Summary: Ransom Drysdale is a serial cheater. The only way to get him to pay for what he’s done is for him to die. Or at least be extremely humiliated. As long as you don’t fall for him.

Pairings: Eventual Ransom Drysdale x black!reader, Ransom Drysdale x Multiple OC’s

Warnings: Swearing. Eventual smut.

(Author’s Note: I was watching John Tucker must die and it made me think of my favorite sweater wearing murder daddy.)

Tags: @night-of-the-living-shred​

Word Count: 2.0k

It's not that you were invisible. You preferred to think of it as keeping a low profile. Growing up, you didn't really have a choice but to keep things to yourself. What was the point of trusting people if all you were going to do was leave? You couldn't make friends or keep them if you'd be moving in another four to six months anyway. Not that it was your choice.

It started at a really young age. Technically before you were even born. Your mom had been a teen parent. Your dad didn't stick around which was all you knew about him. It didn't take long for you to get used to the myriad of men walking in and out of your life. Then you got used to seeing your mom, your only constant, getting treated like garbage over and over and over.

She never had an issue with dating. It was them sticking around that was apparently tricky. The problem is that when it would happen the same thing always happened. She'd binge on chocolate. Use you as a shoulder to cry on. Then you'd be moving to flee into the next city. It was kind of fucked up.

While she cried over the hundredth guy your nose was either buried in a book or painting which had been your only escape. You never wanted to judge your mom. She didn't deserve to always have her heartbroken. But, you also didn't deserve having a mom that wanted to pack up at the first sign of trouble. She didn't seem to get that.

As an adult, you promised yourself that you would find one place and stick to it. It might have hurt your mom a little to watch you go, but she understood that you had to go away for college and stuff. Which is how you ended up in Boston. You kind of remember living in Boston once back in the day. You liked the winters surprisingly and the way the trees looked in the fall. You remembered being happy which is why it sucked so much to leave.

You’d gotten your degree, but finding a job had been difficult. Which is how you ended up working at this country club. Though you could live without all the snobby rich people being total assholes, at least they tipped well. You mostly waitress in the clubhouse where it was usually the older crowd and the families that sucked up to them for the inheritance.

It was also how you first noticed him. Hugh Ransom Drysdale. From the moment you laid eyes on him you could tell he was dangerous. Just like those men, your mother would fall for that would inevitably break her heart. That same air of arrogance hanging over him like a cloud, except much better looking with a trust fund to go along with it.

He insisted everyone in the clubhouse call him Hugh. Which according to everyone is what he insists the help call him. God, he's a fucking asshole.

You remember the first time you talked to him. He was so enchanting. It was annoying. He was like Gaston come to life. Just as handsome, just as charming, just as scummy. Sure he made those white polos he wore to play golf look like he'd just stepped off a shoot for GQ. His gaze was enough to make any woman swoon. Even you as much as you hated to admit it.

It'd been one of the few times you'd worked at the bar. Someone had called out and being the new girl you were told to take their spot. "Sweetheart, be useful and get me a bourbon," he'd said in this rude tone.

"Not even a please?" You muttered under your breath as you turned your back to get a glass.

"What was that?" He asked, with a quirk in his eyebrow.

You kissed your teeth before turning back to him,  "Excuse me?" You plastered a sweet smile on your face.

"You got something to say? Say it." He challenged.

You shook your head. "I didn't... I didn't say anything."

He chuckled. "Okay, lo-"

Your jaw dropped as you put your hand on your chest. "Oh my god, Sir, if you're already drunk I can't serve you. You'd be a liability."

"That's a big word. Did they teach you that in community college?" The glare in his eye was intense and you couldn't help it as a smile spread across your face.

"Actually I think I learned it from where you get your trust fund."

You were surprised when he laughed. But, not that little sarcastic chuckle. Like an actual laugh. "Usually I'd call the manager over and enjoy them firing you in front of me, but lucky for you I'm in a good mood and kind of enjoying this. Now get me my bourbon."

"One bourbon coming up." You shrugged.

You talked with him for the rest of your shift surprisingly. The conversation going from hostile to surprisingly pleasant. He’d told you about some issue he’d been having with his grandfather that he hadn’t told the rest of his family he laughed at the idea of them finding out. Said he couldn’t wait to see the look on their faces when they found out everything was going to the nurse.

It was the trashy rich people drama that you craved.

“I know there’s gonna be a lot of bullshit when they find out they aren’t getting that house,” he’d scoffed, looking up at you from his drink.

“I’d be pissed too,” you replied. “I’m sure that house looks like a museum. I’d love to see it.”

“It’s insane.” He nodded. “Imagine like a horror museum with one of those escape rooms.”

You laughed. “So like plastic spiders? Cobwebs? Ghosts!” What a turn around this had been from the initial conversation the two of you were having.

“Not at all,” he said laughing. “It’s more like everything he’s ever thought for his novels, he just adds to his home. Like he needs the visualization. He has a secret window and a chair with knives. It’s insane.”

“That actually sounds pretty cool. Your grandpa sounds like a pretty cool guy, you must admire him a lot.”

“I mean... yeah, but I’d never tell him that.”

“Why not?” You asked with a chuckle.

“It’s complicated,” he answered, before bringing his glass up to his lips. “Like, I love him, but....”

“No. I get it.” Of course, you did. Your mom was a complicated figure in your life, but you could never not love her.

“I’ve done a lot of shit.” He shrugged. “So, I think it’s mutual.”

“At least his house sounds interesting. Like a work of art. I’m kind of a sucker for art.”

“Do you paint? Draw? Doodle on an iPad.” The way he smiled up at you, you would have never guessed that he was the giant asshole everyone made him out to be. There was this softness there even if it was hiding under his arrogant exterior.

You chuckled. “I paint. Though I do partake in the doodling on iPads.”

“I’d love to see your work sometime,” he said. “Do you sell?”

“I haven’t,” you replied. “But, I’m open to it. I guess. I’d show you now, but I’m not allowed to have my phone on the floor.”

“Oh so I’m not worth risking being fired for, I get it,” he joked, shaking his head as if he was offended.

You laughed, tilting your head back. “I know right. I’m already risking it by even talking to you. Harrington is so strict.”

There was this squint on his face as he kind of looked you up and down. It felt like he was studying you and it made you feel like you were under a microscope. “You’ve got a cute laugh you know that?”

No. Don’t give in. You had to tell yourself. You didn’t want to get involved with anyone you’d have to workaround. Besides, it was Ransom Drysdale. You’d just seen him with a woman yesterday. “Thank you,” you brushed him off. “Can I get you another drink?”

He sighed, checking the time on his phone. “As much as I’d love to stay and chat. I have to get going. Maybe I’ll stop by soon so we can talk again. Maybe show me some of your work?”

“Sure.”

He’d left you a forty dollar tip. You were not expecting that.

You’d left work that night feeling pretty good. Not that you were expecting him to fall in love with you or anything. Or for anything to happen at all. It was just a nice encounter with the guy everyone was obsessed with here. Besides you promised yourself you’d never, ever fall into the same trap as Mom had.

It’s not that you didn’t date. You were picky, though. The few relationships you’d had were okay, but you didn’t want to get hurt so you never wanted to get in too deeply.

Then the next day you had come to work, he’d walked in with Marissa on his arm. That stopped any and all thoughts you may have had. It was during that lull between when they'd stopped serving breakfast and brought out the lunch menus. You weren’t surprised that a man like Hugh Ransom Drysdale would be dating a woman like Marissa Clermont. She was exactly the type of woman men like him go for. You know a model IT girl type of deal.

It wasn’t just because he’d been dating Marissa. Of course not. It was because the day before you he’d just come in with Amber Taylor. The daughter of a retired Boston Celtics player. Also, a beautiful woman (also a model you think) who clearly didn’t know her boyfriend was two-timing her.

“Fascinating isn’t it?” Your co-worker, Britt, interrupted your thoughts as she’d come back from taking their drink order. Her arms were crossed as she tried to not make it too obvious that was she looking over at them. “He comes in here with different women and none of them have any idea.”

You frowned as you saw him whispering in her ear, making her giggle, probably telling her the same thing he told Amber just yesterday. “Yeah, I see that,” you replied. “How does he get away with it?”

“Ladies! Back to work!” Harrington, your manager, barked towards the both of you which made the both of you scurry off before she even had the chance to answer. You didn’t even get to talk to her because her shift was over soon then you were off the next day. You weren’t even sure why you cared so much.

When you got back to work it was during that lull time. Ransom was there of course with a different woman. Chloe Daniels. A blonde that had been the sole heir to her husband’s entire fortune no matter how much his ex wife or adult children tried to fight it. You were happy you got to witness the drama for that.

“He messes around with girls that don’t talk to each other,” Britt was finally able to explain. “So, they never find out. At least, that’s what the story around here is.”

“Wow he has a whole system worked out...” you crinkle your nose. Ugh what a fucking pig.  Just like your mother and those douchebags she dated.

“I mean, I kind of get it,” Britt said. “He’s hot. I might put up with being treated like trash for that much. Hell, I’ve put up being treated like trash for much less.”

You held in the laugh you wanted to let out as you could see Harrington lurking around, waiting to say something to the two of you. He never missed his chance to give out orders.

For as long as the couple sat through you couldn’t stop staring. Britt was right. It was fascinating.

[lihikainanea]

Vibe of the Week 20/09

Oh man I cannot wait for Libra season to be upon us. Not only because I’m a Libra (birthday in 12 days, AND I get a full moon that night. Bliss) but because I’m also hoping shit gets just a tad more balanced for at least a little while.

Leo season is so fucked up and like true Leos they went and sort of obliterated Virgo season too and I’m just...I am burnt.

There was no Vibe of the Week last week because I held a Tarot Hour on Friday night, and that one hour turned into 4 hours and it honestly took me a week to recuperate. That was a lot of energy. I loved spending time with you guys, I loved answering your questions and I can only hope that maybe it helped provide a bit of insight. I’ll hold another Tarot Hour in October, but I need to re-think how I go about it. Four hours was a total TKO for me, but at the same time, I couldn’t leave the questions unanswered.

So, let’s start fresh this week. I’m doing something a little different for the Tarot, and instead of a five-card spread I’m doing a trusty Celtic Cross that will perhaps delve a little deeper into what’s going on.

The decks this week are: Nocturna for the Oracle,  and the weird, macabre, creepy Deviant Moon for the Tarot.

The Oracle card this week is Starfish:

Words to meditate on: Healing, regrowth, loss, moving on

The affirmation: Pain is necessary but suffering is not. Loss is painful but inevitable.

Gulp. This is the equivalent to the Wheel of Fortune card in Tarot, I’d venture to say. Starfish are some of the only creatures on Earth that are able to regrow lost limbs--not only that, but there are so many neat little nerves in Starfish that allow for the severed limb to actually...regenerate into a whole new Starfish.

Do not play down the loss you are feeling, or the loss that is coming your way. Do not automatically default to looking for the silver lining. There is honour in pain, there is growth in pain, and sometimes if we immediately look for the positives--we miss the lesson. We do not grieve properly, we do not feel our emotions in a way that then allows us to work through them, instead of burying them deeper under the guise of positivity.

Feel the pain, understand it, and come out of it. The best way out, is through.

The spread. Please do ignore the raspberry bars in the photo--my kitchen counters are a mess and I had nowhere to put them:

The Situation: Five of Pentacles

The conflict: Nine of Wands

The atmosphere around the situation: Page of Wands

The potential root of the situation: Ten of Pentacles

Past influences: Nine of Pentacles

Future influences: Seven of Swords

Where we at now: Six of Swords

How others perceive our reality: Three of Wands

Hopes and Fears: The Empress (Major)

Potential Outcome: Justice (Major)

What the fuCK.

Alright look, you know how sometimes, you’re in the middle of something—say a tennis match—and you’re like I got this. Balls are coming flying at your head and you’re only hitting maybe one out of every three, but your confidence is astounding. I got this I got this I got this. But then, balls start coming at you from everywhere, now you’re swinging blindly and not even hitting any, now the panic is setting in and you’re shrieking I GOT THIS I GOT THIS I GOT THIS but like you very clearly don’t got this, and you need help, and eventually balls are just hitting you from everywhere and you literally take off fleeing from the court still screaming that you got this?

It you.

You don’t got this.

Not even close.

First of all, there’s a total absence of Cups in this spread, which means your mind  and your greed (not a bad thing) is running rampant without anything to keep it in check and that is ALWAYS a recipe for disaster.

The issue at hand and the thing motivating you this week has to do with health and home—money, your job, your livelihood. It’s a complete fucking train wreck (Five of Pentacles) but there you are, not only denying it’s a train wreck, but insisting that everything is going exactly according to plan (Nine of Wands).

What fucking plan, kid? WHAT PLAN? You don’t have a plan. This is not a plan. Just admit that you’re in deep shit.

But you can’t, for whatever reason—maturity level, being seen as a failure, something here is stopping you from admitting that oh god this was not at all the plan. And instead of admitting that and dealing with it, you’re staying steadfast on this route to disaster all while screaming incoherently how much you’ve got this (Page of Wands).

And beneath it all, you’re driven by this utter need to be deemed a “success” by whatever it is that you think is the marker for success (Ten of Pentacles). Is it money? Do you want to be able to afford the entire La Mer skin care? You will not stop until that is your reality. Is it a home? Do you want to be able to sign for a mortgage? You will think you are a complete failure until this is your reality. Whether it’s a target salary, a target career, a target health goal—you are on one track, and you’re ignoring the journey and the successes along the way. Success means one thing to you, and until you have it—you fail.

And maybe you’re so driven by this monster because you’ve had it before (Nine of Pentacles). Maybe you had it real good and you want it again. Or maybe you know somebody who has it, so you know it CAN BE HAD, and oh god that only makes it worse. Because if they have it, then clearly it can be had, which means you can have it. You just have to go batshit crazy trying to get it.

But like…beware. Do not judge what others have or how they got it, you don’t get to know that information. There is always deception at play (Seven of Swords), and if you’re not careful, then the motivation behind your drive is going to be a fucking figment of your imagination. We live in a culture now where people minimize the struggle. Instagram influencers make their fortunes by pretending that insane shit is just to easy to obtain. That it’s normal. It’s not, man. Recognize that deception for what it is. Recognize that veil that hides our reality—in fact, don’t just recognize it. LOOK for it. Search for that deception. It’s there, I promise you. Nobody has it all, and nobody has it that easy either. If it seems too good to be true—it is. Plain and simple.

So, we going through some shit, right? And now we’re at the point where all the balls are coming flying at our heads and we’re swinging blindly, and now it’s time to run away (Six of Swords). To run away shrieking that we’ve still got this, all the while putting actual distance between ourselves and the problem. Because the problem is calling us out. The problem knows how much we don’t got this, and it’s backing us into a corner, so we’re running the fuck away. And sometimes distance is good, sometimes it gives us perspective—just don’t let it give you that false sense of confidence. Nothing is ever as bad as it seems, when we look at it from the benefit of hindsight. Don’t get those rose coloured glasses, kid—this was as bad as it seemed and you, in no conceivable notion, ever had an ounce of control about it.

And not that perception of others matters, but sometimes it can give us a clue. And the people surrounding you, they’re kinda wondering why you can’t just…let a good thing be a good thing (Three of Wands). Why you always gotta tear that good thing down, and try to build something EVEN BETTER as soon as you get it? When you fail to honour the good, fail to honour the struggle—you’re never satisfied. That forward-vision does nothing but paralyze you, because you’re always wanting something more and something better as soon as you got even an inkling of what you wanted.

Deep down, you know that. The Empress and Justice here, two Majors, tell me that you’re a little aware of at least how exhausting this cycle is on you. You hope to one day be that peaceful, creative force—but heed the warning, too, that creativity and ambition without pragmatism and a legit, reasonable plan will just continue you on this downward spiral (The Empress). Put structure. Put boundaries. Set reachable targets, and when you hit them—STOP. Relax. Take a deep fucking breath and honour that win.

And what a lovely final card to end this reading, as we step into Libra season. Justice. The absolute sign of Libra. Justice in the final outcome tells us that balance can be achieved if we stop going all fucking Rambo on our ambitions and our own personal definitions of success and failure. The natural equilibrium is at play here. Trust yourself a bit more, have faith in your own goals and ambition and your ability to achieve those things. Balance out your need for success with your need to be a well balanced, fucking functional human being. Recognize the success in the middle ground, in the peace, in the balance of that.

If you’re cognizant of your current internal war, if you recognize that maybe you’re going a little too all-in, if you become aware of the fact that you don’t got this—things will start working out from there, kid.

But the universe can’t step in and help us when we’re still swinging our tennis racket blindly, screaming about how much we got this.