#major arcana fic

[midnightprelude]

Major Arcana: Hanged Man

Written by @oftachancer and I for the @30daysofdorian event!

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CW: Southern Circles of Magi; conversion therapy (aftermath); successful blood magic ritual; recovering from trauma

The Circles in the South were appalling. That was all Dorian could think, over and over, as he followed the novice away from where his father was amiably chatting with one of the elder scions of the Gallows. An apt name for such a cold place. Cold - in the air, seeping into the stones. Cold - in the study of eyes behind heavy place helmets. 

“And this is the library,” Karl Thekla said as he pushed a narrow door open into a dark and crowded room.

Dorian fought a sneeze. “Oh, yes, very nice.” He could have fit three of them into the library at Qarinus. “Your lamps seem to have gone out.”

Karl shook his head. He was a broad sort of fellow with soft blue eyes and an impressively well kept beard. “We had an ordinance from the Council. No more magelight.”

“…they want you to use… open flames… in a library?” Dorian asked slowly. “Does this ‘council’ know that books are typically made of paper and parchment and therefore are quite flammable?”

“Hm,” Karl answered him, smiling and noncommittal. “We have your paper on interdimensional temporal analogs. I’ll show you.”

“Gladly.” More than he expected from a glorified prison. The reason his father had thought to bring him to this dismal place was entirely unclear to him. They hadn’t seen the sun once since they’d set foot underneath those ominous statues in the port—men and women twisted in expressions of agony—and Dorian was wondering if he would return to Tevinter with a deathly pallor. “What manner of study do you conduct here, Karl?”

“This and that. I used to-“ He shook his head, drawing a long drawer out crowded with scrolls. “Mostly, I help the elders with their work. Keep the books organized. That’s a task that takes a fair bit of time as you can imagine.” He poked through the scrolls, checking labels by the flicker of a flame through glass. “What is it like?” he asked quietly. “Up there?”

It was the first time Karl had asked anything of the sort and it caught him off guard. How much was he supposed to say? Would it hurt father’s business if he confided in the apprentice? Dorian glanced over his shoulder, lowering his voice. “In Tevinter, the land is so riddled with magic it seeps into the soil. It makes everything hum, feel more alive. I hadn’t noticed it until the first time I left. The world feels dead here.” He dropped his gaze, tucking his hands into his pockets. “No offense.” They had a mage, manually organizing scrolls. It seemed a dull, meaningless, unnecessary sort of task. “What do you mean: you ‘used to’?”

“Before they moved me here. I’m from Ferelden. I trained hounds and pigeons and hawks there.” Karl’s smile softened. “It was my home. I was in love.” He cleared his throat as one of the plate-clad Templars walked past them, lifting one of the scrolls. “Here you are, my lord.” And Dorian had a sudden rushing sensation that the man’s quiet, happy smiles since he’d met him that morning were largely for the benefit of the people guarding him. 

More like a prison than he’d believed. 

As the footsteps faded, Karl took the scroll back with a shake of his head. “You don’t want that. It’s a history of spoons. Actually, there’s an interesting little section on filigrees, but… One moment, I’ll find the paper. I had some questions actually. Quite a bit was censored before it reached us. Is your tour taking you as far as Ferelden?”

“No, not quite so far as that. Montsimmard is our last stop.” Ferelden was a backwater, his father had said, with little but fleas and rain. Karl had seemed pleasant enough, though. If he’d come from Ferelden, it couldn’t be that bad, could it? “Would you have me send a message to her on your behalf?”

“Him.” Karl bowed his head. “I’d be grateful if you would try. I’m not certain if they’re getting stopped on my end or his. Haven’t had word from him in months and the man’s a chatterbox. Ah, here we are.” He drew a scroll free with a gilded baton and a series of inscriptions on its sheath. 

Him? A man? 

“You see when we received the shipment, it had to go through a border station - all the scrolls from Tevinter do - and they’ve made a muddle of specifics in section four…”

Dorian blinked. He was staring at his own manuscript, but all of the details were wrong. Sigils misplaced, text blotted out. He winced, shaking his head. “Anyone who tried to use this would be incinerated, at best. It’s utterly useless as written.”

“We had gathered as much,” Karl surmised, gently touching the parchment as though it could be valued as anything more than kindling. “Terrence did try, despite my warning, poor man. Dreamers will dream. Still, the summary was inspiring. I had a theory…” He set the scroll down and glanced over his shoulder, drawing a long folded sheet of papers from inside of his robe and carefully shifting his broad shoulders to conceal them in a corner. “That this might be closer to what had been intended? I don’t see why they bother mucking about with these things. It’s not as though we’re likely to get ahold of the lyrium, let alone the ingredients required. Still. Makes them happy. I guess that’s something.”

Dorian studied the scroll, humming to himself. A bit of a brutalist approach, surely, but it was nearly there. He traced a few sigils with his fingertip, lines appearing burnished into the parchment. “Not a bad go of it.”

“High praise,” Karl breathed, casting a quick grin in his direction. “I’m a glutton for theory. Yes. That- I wouldn’t have thought of it that way. Thank you.”

“As am I,” Dorian murmured, ducking his head. It had only been a spell to harness energy from storms. Why in the world had it been fiddled with? Why had they banned magelight, of all bloody things? Why had Karl been taken from his home? Was it because of- A fog seemed to creep into his mind then, slow and opaque, making it difficult to think. Karl was rolling up a piece of parchment and stowing it away. “I apologize, what was it we were speaking of?”

“What weren’t we speaking of?” Karl asked with a little roll of his eyes, waiting again for the heavy footfalls of a Templar to pass. “Magic in the soil, you said? Anders would bloody love that.”

“Anders?” Dorian asked softly.

Karl nodded once, his smile warming, his eyes softening. “That’s one of his names. One of many. Too brilliant to have just the one.”

“…and you love this-“ Dorian blinked, something not quite making sense. “This Anders. From Ferelden.”

“From the top of my head to the tips of my toes. And the backs of my knees. Definitely those.” Karl ducked his head, nodding down the row of books. “Do you want to see- he does these drawings of cats that are amazing. I’ve them in my chamber.”

“Cats,” Dorian repeated, bewildered. This man has just admitted to a near stranger that he- Love. The death of duty, his father had said. A fool’s solace. Dorian nodded his head, too confused to protest. “Yes, why don’t you- I’d be interested in seeing them.”

So he followed the initiate down the hallway and around a corner, up a staircase and around another bend until they reached another narrow door. Karl ducked inside, waving at the door. “Shut that?” he asked, kneeling and pulling a board from the wall under the window to draw a pile of papers from the floor. “Just need a moment to find them.”

It took him more than a moment, untying ribbons and retying them, sorting the piles of papers into stacks around the floor like a squirrel with its hoard of nuts. Letters. Notes. Sketches of animals. Karl grinned, collecting a few deeply-creased papers that had clearly been folded and unfolded many times and held them out. “See. He can get all the poses. Impressive, yeah?”

Dorian stared at the paper in his hands, holding it like it was a priceless artifact. To Karl, it certainly was. There were five depictions of the same cat, with the inscription ‘Prince Fuzzybum’ emblazoned along the top in an inelegant scrawl. Sleeping peacefully, batting at a butterfly, lying on its back, curled into a ball, and licking its lips lazily, the chubby striped cat was caught forever on the tattered parchment. Something in Dorian’s chest ached. “Very impressive,” he agreed, feeling dizzy. “Why are you here, instead of there?”

Karl’s proud smile slipped as he took the paper back, carefully smoothing it with his thumb. “It’s safer this way. It’s supposed to be,” he added, the furrow between his brows deepening. “I thought it would be. I’m not so sure anymore. I suppose that’s not really a thing, up north, is it? Mages not being allowed to- Because the Chantry says we’re supposed to put Andraste above all else. I tried to, for a long time.” He laughed a little. “She can’t compete with Anders. Too bad for her.”

Family above all else. The Imperium above all else. Perhaps they weren’t so different, after all. 

A sharp pain shot through his temples and Dorian doubled over, reaching towards the other man for support. His vision blurred, his stomach lurching.

“What-“ Dorian muttered, feeling as though he might spill the contents of his stomach. “Where-“

Karl’s hands were steady on his shoulders. Warm. More slender than they’d seemed. “I’m with you. You’re alright.” The deep Ferelden accent was gone, replaced by clipped consonants from the inner lakes and rounded Carastes vowels. “You’re strong. Be in this moment.”

There was something so familiar in that voice, but the moment Dorian had the thought, it slipped away like sand through his fingertips. He leaned into the touch, his frame shaking violently.

“Which moment?” Dorian whispered, but his own voice sounded far away and warped. “Where am I?”

“He told you about the man he loves,” Karl said slowly in a voice that wasn’t his own, watching him. Something about the way he watched - solemn and steady - felt so familiar. Familiar like the voice. “And you told him. You told him- What did you tell him, Dorian?”

“I don’t know,” Dorian whispered, his voice catching in his throat. “I can’t- I don’t-“

“Skin like whisky?” Karl laughed, the Ferelden drawl returned with gusto as he leaned against the bed a few feet away. He had a few papers in his hands. “You’re a poet. You need to help me write something better. Mine are all: ‘your hair is good, I want to pull it’.”

Whisky?

Pull?

Dorian felt ill.

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure I can help you,” Dorian coughed, bile on his tongue. “I wish I could. I don’t- I’m afraid I don’t know how.”

Skin like fine whisky, eyes like mossy pools. He could spend an eternity studying the myriad shades in those irises and never grow tired. Trace the curve of that smirk with his fingertips and still never understand all of its facets. He could-

What?

What could he- 

Why couldn’t he-

Dorian wrapped his arms around himself, closing his eyes tightly.

What did you tell him?

What did he say? 

Where was he? 

Why was everything agonizing?

“He sounds,” Karl was saying, his voice fading in and out, lost in a conversation that Dorian couldn’t quite keep up with, “and I say this with the utmost respect for your lover, like a nerd.”

He-

Dorian doubled over onto the ground, his hands pressed onto the cold, unforgiving stone.

His lover. His lover.

My-

He gasped, crying out in pain, his insides feeling as though they’d been set alight. 

“He sees the world in color and light, hears his magic like music,” his own voice was saying, though his lips didn’t move. Burning, scorching his skin, searing his lungs. “He makes me feel whole, for the first time in my life.”

“Yeah,” Karl sighed, resting his head back against the straw mattress. “Yeah. That’s the stuff. That’s the whole thing. I miss him every minute of every day, you know? How long until you get to go back to yours?”

“I don’t know,” Dorian heard himself admit softly. “He’s training with a Rivaini spiritsinger. I haven’t heard from him in months.”

Who?

Who was he-

“You write my letter and I’ll write yours. Maybe we can confuse the blokes into actually answering,” Karl suggested with a wink. “Keep them on their toes.” 

How could he not remember? Why did everything hurt?

Dorian’s voice was a dim echo, as though heard from underwater. “Yes, why don’t we? Perhaps that will catch their attention.”

“You’re lucky,” Karl said, sprawling on the floor to write. “To love out loud. To see the clouds when you want. Don’t take that for granted.” 

“I won’t,” Dorian said, through another’s mouth, the vision fragmenting and shifting. Aloud. Somehow the word felt wrong. “I promise.”

[promptsspillingeverywhere]

Prompts: Major Arcana Tarot

(Meanings taken from https://biddytarot.com/)

The Fool (Beginnings, innocence, spontaneity, a free spirit)

The Fool Reversed (Holding back, recklessness, risk-taking)

The Magician (Manifestation, resourcefulness, power, inspired action)

The Magician Reversed (Manipulation, poor planning, untapped talents)

The High Priestess (Intuition, sacred knowledge, divine feminine, the subconscious mind)

The High Priestess Reversed (Secrets, disconnected from intuition, withdrawal and silence)

The Empress (Femininity, beauty, nature, nurturing, abundance)

The Empress Reversed (Creative block, dependence on others)

The Emperor (Authority, establishment, structure, a father figure)

The Emperor Reversed (Domination, excessive control, lack of discipline, inflexibility)

The Hierophant (Spiritual wisdom, religious beliefs, conformity, tradition,institutions)

The Hierophant Reversed (Personal beliefs, freedom, challenging the status quo)

The Lovers (Love, harmony, relationships, values alignment, choices)

The Lovers Reversed (Self-love, disharmony, imbalance, misalignment of values)

The Chariot (Control, willpower, success, action, determination)

The Chariot Reversed (Self-discipline, opposition, lack of direction)

Strength (Strength, courage, persuasion, influence, compassion)

Strength Reversed (Inner strength, self-doubt, low energy, raw emotion)

The Hermit (Soul-searching, introspection, being alone, inner guidance)

The Hermit Reversed (Isolation, loneliness, withdrawal)

Wheel of Fortune (Good luck, karma, life cycles, destiny, a turning point)

Wheel of Fortune Reversed (Bad luck, resistance to change, breaking cycles)

Justice (Justice, fairness, truth, cause and effect, law)

Justice Reversed (Unfairness, lack of accountability, dishonesty)

The Hanged Man (Pause, surrender, letting go, new perspectives)

The Hanged Man Reversed (Delays, resistance, stalling, indecision)

Death (Endings, change, transformation, transition)

Death Reversed (Resistance to change, personal transformation, inner purging)

Temperance (Balance, moderation, patience, purpose)

Temperance Reversed (Imbalance, excess, self-healing, re-alignment)

The Devil (Pause, surrender, letting go, new perspectives)

The Devil Reversed (Releasing limiting beliefs, exploring dark thoughts, detachment)

The Tower (Sudden change, upheaval, chaos, revelation, awakening)

The Tower Reversed (Personal transformation, fear of change, averting disaster)

The Star (Hope, faith, purpose, renewal, spirituality)

The Star Reversed (Lack of faith, despair, self-trust, disconnection)

The Moon (Illusion, fear, anxiety, subconscious, intuition)

The Moon Reversed (Release of fear, repressed emotion, inner confusion)

The Sun (Positivity, fun, warmth, success, vitality)

The Sun Reversed (Inner child, feeling down, overly optimistic)

Judgement (Judgement, rebirth, inner calling, absolution)

 Judgement Reversed (Self-doubt, inner critic, ignoring the call)

 The World (Completion, integration, accomplishment, travel)

The World Reversed (Seeking personal closure, short-cuts, delays)

[leavingautumn13]

[the-dark-lord-chaos]

I’ve started making a Tom Riddle tarot deck. Based off the original Rider Waite tarot deck design wise but I modify as necessary to how I perceive his character

^^ Here’s what I’ve been using to decide what plants/flowers I want to replace the original with (if I decide to), if anyone’s curious

[voicesagainstliars]

YO PARIS TEAM.

what’s your opinion on Goro Akechi?)

Author B: It's about to change drastically.

Author B: But not in the way you think.

[ikkaku-of-heart]

@umbrx​ asked: ❛ look at that pretty expression. i always knew you could make one. ❜ / here to enable Hawkins x Ikkaku, so this is from Hawkins!

& more smut sentence starters (still accepting!)

Ikkaku moaned in response to his purred statement, not resisting as she felt long fingers wrap around her jaw, turning her head to face the full-length mirror Hawkins kept in his quarters. She had to admit, she did look quite pretty; cheeks flushed bright red, full lips swollen, eyes half-lidded and glazed with pleasure. She looked like a wet dream; a woman who’d already been brought to orgasm twice by her partner’s talented fingers and mouth. She watched as said partner leaned in to gaze at their reflections in the mirror, lips turned up in a smirk as he made eye contact.

“You have such an expressive face, don’t you? I can always tell what you’re thinking,” Hawkins chuckled, nipping at the sensitive shell of the engineer’s ear. The length of his naked body pressed against hers, and she could feel his erect cock cradled between her legs, pulsing hotly against her wet cunt, but remaining outside. A testament to his self-control and determination to put her pleasure first.

“Ah! Think I’m…that easy to read?” she replied breathlessly, arching her back as his long, blonde locks brushed against the soft skin of her bare breasts and nipples.

“You are, but I like that about you. Means I can easily determine if I’m properly pleasing my goddess,” Hawkins cooed. He shifted his grip to press two long fingers against the seam of her mouth, coaxing them open so he could thrust inside. Ikkaku could still taste her own essence on them, and her tongue stroked along the calloused digits as she sucked. This earned her a husky moan in response, and as Hawkins looked away from their reflections to pay tribute to her breasts, Ikkaku allowed herself to smirk, watching him worship her body in the mirror while reveling in the pleasure he bestowed on her sensitive breasts.

Yeah, she had an expressive face, but that didn’t mean he could read her all the time. Especially when it was so damn obvious this man had untoward intentions besides defiling his rival’s engineer. Really, even with his poker face, his words and actions were too seductive, too reverent, to be anything but insincere. Ikkaku was no fool. His interest in her had to be a front. It was obvious he planned on using her to get to Law somehow.

Too bad she’d been playing him too. She’d already figured out the schematics of his ship, taken note of the main weapons, and even managed to gauge which members of his crew were his top fighters. All of this intel could be useful to Law once the game was over.

For now, though, she was content to bide her time and enjoy the pleasure Hawkins offered. And if it happened to be good enough that it showed on her face so prettily, well, all the better to stroke the Magician’s ego and bring his own guard down.

Her back arched again as his mouth suckled her breasts. Damn, he did have a talented mouth. The way his tongue and teeth teased her nipples sent shivers and heat down to her dripping core. Ikkaku teasingly mimicked his pace with her own mouth. Her hands threaded through his hair while her nails scratched along his scalp. She felt his hips buck against her, and Hawkins released her nipple with one last lick, once more looking up at her. The glint in his eye told her he was both highly aroused but also slightly displeased at being caught off-guard by her teasing.

“Enough of that. Otherwise I’ll be tempted to replace my fingers with something longer and thicker. And those thrusts might not be so gentle.”

In response, Ikkaku ran her teeth along the underside of his fingers before releasing them with an audible pop. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Hawkins,” she purred, licking her lips enticingly.

His face twisted, and Ikkaku knew that expression all too well. The face of a man filled with desire, wanting to put a defiant bedmate in her place. A man who was inches away from snapping and discarding his polite façade to display a hungry beast within. He managed to reign in his expression, but his eyes still glinted and burned as they bored into her. “I have no wish to hurt you.”

Liar, she immediately thought, though she carefully hid it with a sultry smirk. “Then what do you wish? You call me your goddess; since you worship my body so well, maybe I could grant you a boon. Maybe I could get on my knees and worship your cock instead.”

Something flashed in his eyes, more intense than the lust from before. It was gone before Ikkaku could fully decipher it, but it sent a different kind of shiver down her spine. Before she could put any more thought into it, she found herself flipped over and repositioned onto her hands and knees on the king-sized bed, ass cradling Hawkins’ 8in long cock as she faced the mirror. His left him gripped her hip with a surprising amount of strength, the indents certain to leave bruises. Meanwhile, his right hand pulled at her hair like midnight reigns, keeping the thick locks away from her face. Their eyes once again met in the reflection.

“Tempting as that sounds, I want to watch that pretty face of yours while I fuck you,” he rasped, pulling back his hips and slowly thrusting into Ikkaku’s wet, waiting cunt. The woman beneath him gasped and moaned as his girth stretched and filled her, setting a steady pace when he sheathed himself within her to the hilt. “I want you on your knees, but my wish is to watch you fall apart on my cock. To watch you watch yourself fall apart. That’s a boon fit for a king.”

With that, he began thrusting in earnest, and despite his hold Ikkaku’s hips matched his pace, rolling back to meet his thrusts. In the mirror, she watched him watching her, noting how his own cheeks had some color in them, how his brow furrowed, how his jaw tightened as he observed her with predatory focus.

In normal circumstances, he was such an expressionless man. With her, he wore a mask of emotions. But right there and then, Ikkaku felt she was seeing behind the mask and catching a glimpse of the real Basil Hawkins.

He was a beautiful man, but there was no doubt that he was a sinister one. That dark, possessive look in his eyes told her that if it were up to him, she’d never leave his quarters. That she’d never go back to the safety of her captain and her crew. That for all he called her his “goddess,” his devotion was self-serving. That the moment he got what he was truly after, she’d be on her knees for him far more frequently.

Despite this, Ikkaku couldn’t help but whimper and keen in pleasure as he repeatedly hit her G-spot, the pain of him tugging her hair mixing beautifully with the pleasure of his thrusts. Her mouth fell open a bit and her eyes rolled back slightly as she came around his cock, her inner walls clenching and milking him as she cried out his name.

“Hawkins!”

It was like a switch had been flipped, and suddenly Ikkaku was no longer held up to watch in the mirror, but instead her face was pressed into the silk sheets of the bed. She was forced to lay prostrate as Hawkins fucked her with all of his might, the sounds of his heavy breathing and flesh hitting flesh filling Ikkaku’s ears along with her own pounding heartbeat. Yet wasn’t enough to down out the whispers that left his lips.

“Yes! Fuck, yes! That’s it! You’re mine!”

With those words, he came inside her, his hot seed filling her as he rode out his own orgasm. Ikkaku took it all, her legs trembling as she waited for him to finish. Finally Hawkins’ thrusts stopped, but he didn’t pull out right away. Ikkaku got the sense that he was admiring the picture they made in the mirror – his naked lover, bowed and submissive, while he loomed above her, proud and dominant. She felt his hands stroke her sweat-covered body as he slowly pulled out, guiding her to lay on her side with a gentleness that was in direct contrast with the harsh fucking he’d just given her.

Curtains of thick black hair covered Ikkaku’s face, shielding her from Hawkins’ scrutiny. A few locks drifted away from her eyes, however, and through the parted strands Ikkaku watched him in the mirror, his expression self-satisfied and eyes possessive as he took in his handiwork. Then it shifted, a benign smile curling his lips as he delicately moved the hair out of her face.

“You look exhausted, lovely. Rest a bit. I’ll draw us both a bath so we can get cleaned up,” he murmured, pressing a reverent kiss to her lips.

“Yeah. Ok,” she replied breathlessly, laying still to give the illusion that he’d exhausted her too much to even get up. She did make herself return his kiss, closing her eyes so he couldn’t read her thoughts. They only opened when she felt the bed shift, and she watched him leave the room towards his private bath.

Though her legs trembled and she could feel a bit of cum drip down her thigh, Ikkaku knew she had no time to waste. Now was the time to investigate the Magician’s quarters while he drew her bath. Whatever he was planning, she’d figure it out.

Whatever game he was playing, Ikkaku was determined to beat him at it.

[bakuliwrites]

End Up Here, Chapter 14

Fandom: The Arcana

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Julian x Lucio x Apprentice

TW: Depression, Grief, References to Alcoholism/Using Alcohol to Cope, Major Character Death

Chapter Summary: Their handwriting is so deeply familiar to him, Julian wonders if it’s etched into his bones. If someone were to dissect him, they would find his ribs adorned with the words of the Apprentice, carved lovingly, committed to a memory that even his body reflects. Julian’s fingertips caress the deep imprints of their writing on each piece of parchment he glosses over. He can feel the Apprentice contained within these pages and it threatens to destroy him. His lip quivers as he pulls a small scrap of paper from one of the piles. 

[somepsychopomp]

Thank you @mebssann for more of your amazing art! You literally breathed so much life into how I imagined Simon and you were so much fun to work with 💙❤️💙

This was the first of two commissions I had done for my Vampire Simon AU! If you're new to my AU, Simon in this world joined the Vampire King's court, albeit unwillingly, and became reborn as Temperance.

Named for one of the three virtues in the Major Arcana, he's the advisor to not just the king, but tutor to The Star (and perhaps guides others as well, in an effort to fulfill his own goals).

This art will also be featured on my fic itself on Ao3; although, if you've read my most recent chapter then you've already seen his blue outfit in action (it's what he wears to meet with Bonnie)!

As for his red one... keep an eye out for it if you've been following along!

[sits-bound]

Bound: The Twenty-Two Cards Series (Rookie Moves + 6 more) by peu_a_peu

I am pretty insane about this fic right now. Between this bind and the podfic I'm making of it, I am happily living in the world of these two dumb cops.

I made this for the @renegadeguild's Renegade Loves Fic(writers) event for Fanfiction Writer's Appreciation Day (which is today!), and sent it to the author earlier this month.

This bind has a couple of firsts:

First hand-sewn endbands

I am very very proud of the endbands - it has taken me many, many, many attempts to get them right. Huge props to maleeka_mols for this fantastic tutorial!

First dust jacket

I made a dust jacket because I felt like the design of the case didn't do this series justice. It just needed MORE.

Making it was fun but also very stressful. I had one chance to get the printing right (since I don't have a large format printer and so I had to get it printed as a poster, which is pricey) and thank god it all worked out perfectly.

So let's talk about the details…(other than the end bands and dust jacket.)

The 22 cards of the title reference the 22 cards of the major arcana. I am not familiar with the tarot, so I hope I didn't do anything "wrong" by choosing cards to use based on aesthetics. But it is such a fun aesthetic to use!

Weeding the HTV on the front was a lot. And then the gold of the title got a little wonky (another reason for the dust jacket, if I'm being honest) but I love the way it looks.

There's a lot of gold foiling on the inside. Each story has its own tarot card (again, chosen based on looks because I am shallow). I also made a table of contents! Just a lot of stuff. The typeset itself is fairly simple. (Would I love to have made a maximalist version like the one @slbindery made for me? Yes, but I have to accept that that is not the style I excel at.)

HAPPY (FAN) FIC WRITERS APPRECIATION DAY!

[hd-tarot]

🔮✨ Announcing HD Tarot Fest! ✨🔮

HD Tarot is a new Harry/Draco fest that uses the Major and Minor Arcana cards of the Tarot as prompts for fanart and fanfic.

The art challenge is to recreate Tarot cards with the aim of one day forming a full Drarry Tarot Deck. The fic goal is to inspire Drarry stories based on the cards’ meanings.

No prior knowledge of the Tarot is necessary to participate.

For more info on claiming and fest rules, watch this space! ✨

Coming soon to a circle of light near you,

⋆˖⁺‧₊ HD Tarot Mods (@itsphantasmagoria, @pl0tty, @fanarthasmyheart, @phoenixortheflame)

[tixdixl]

The Hanged Man

The first in my TWST OC Tarot series. I had the fun idea to make tarot cards based on mine and my friends OCs.

Despite not being the first of the Major Arcana, the Hanged Man was the first and easiest for me to consider composition wise. I knew exactly who fit the card and was confident in both the symbolism and the accuracy. Given Emil's descent into Overblot, this card felt incredibly representative of that downward spiral. This is my personal reminder to write that fic at some point. Oops.

More to come! And I'll probably make a project hub for this with links to all the cards.

✨️✨️✨️

Tag list: @ramshacklerumble @the-trinket-witch @rainesol @elenauaurs @winterweary

@cyanide-latte @inmateofthemind @boopshoops @theleechyskrunkly @thehollowwriter

@lumdays @starry-night-rose @twstinginthewind @twistedwonderlandshenanigans

Lmk if you want added/removed

[midnightprelude]

Major Arcana: Heirophant

Written by @oftachancer and I for the @30daysofdorian event!

Masterpost | Next

The salt air raised goosebumps on his arms despite the bright afternoon sun. A storm brewing on the horizon, darkening the usually glimmering Nocen. A summer storm. 

“Are you listening to me, Dorian?”

He drew his attention back from the sea and met his father’s stern gaze, then glanced down at the scroll in his lap. What had he been talking about? Dorian scanned the script: a list of names and birthplaces and- “Yes, sir.”

“Very well,” Halward peered at him with a slight smirk that clearly spoke to the fact he disbelieved him. “Thucian the Gold.”

“Killed his brother in a duel, negotiated the purchase of the sapphire mines in Marothius, married Dorinne Samelser. Sired six children, five girls and Savander the Wise.”

Halward hummed thoughtfully. “…very well.”

Dorian swelled with the praise, his shoulders relaxing and sinking back. Not only praise, but the subtle shift of his father’s lips that was so very close to a smile. 

“Now tell me what you were thinking about.”

Dorian ducked his head, plucking at the stray black ribbon dangling from the baton. “The storm.”

Halward glanced out towards the sea. “…Do you still think of the squall on the ship?” 

Waves crashing over the bow, soaking the deck, rushing down into the cabins inside. Books floating in sea water. Dorian woke from nightmares of it tasting bile on the back of his tongue. “…sometimes,” he replied carefully. 

“No matter how strong we become or how much we prepare, nature can always undermine us. It is an important lesson, Dorian; that is all. Take it as such and move on from it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fear will only make you weak.”

Dorian nodded, winding the ribbon around his thumb. “Yes, Pater. A Pavus is never weak.” His words earned an actual smile, pride warming his father’s eyes.

“Just so, my son. We cannot afford to be. You cannot.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“I know you won’t.”

“…but you protected us during the storm,” Dorian said softly, remembering watching the wardrobe bob once then sink below the waves. “You weren’t afraid because you knew you could keep us safe.”

“That is not why,” his father disagreed with a slight shake of his head. “What I knew was that I could not fail this family. Family comes first, Dorian, always. It is my duty and my privilege to protect our name and line. One day, it will be yours. And from that purpose, you will learn that absolutely anything is within your power.”

“I won’t fail you,” Dorian murmured, rolling up the scroll. “I remember the rest. Do you want me to recite a branch?”

“It is not your memory that worries me, Dorian,” he chuckled wryly. “It is your attention. The storm is out there. We are here.” He rested his hand on Dorian’s shoulder. Broad and strong, a rare weight. “You have many years ahead of you of listening to things you think you already know. You must seek gems out of the scattering of stones. There is always something new to be learned and no teacher will want a dismissive student.” 

Dorian peered up at his father, smiling at the contact and letting the words wash over him like so many waves. “If I listen, can we stay and watch it come in?” An idea came to him suddenly, nearly making him vibrate with excitement. “Will you teach me to catch lightning? I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”

“Purpose will help you to prevail over fear,” Halward Pavus told him, steady and patient. “But I will tell you something that none of your teachers will: spells are an illusion. How one mage has accomplished a task before you is only one way of succeeding. Don’t let others constrain you. Finding your own path to the goal will make you unstoppable.” He bowed his head, thinking. “I will teach you to catch lightning, in this way: fetch the chessboard. We will play until the rain begins.”

[forgetmynamepleasethanks]

IF YOU write for hazbin x helluva boss could you do a oneshot stolas x raven!reader whos family only recently became royals and are treated as lesser by the other royal families. the ravens arent as fancy as the other families and dont really care about all the royal stuff so they're kinda looked down upon. they meet at some meeting or you can decide. and make this take place after season 2 episode 9 so blitzo and him have broken up at least for now. thank you a ton!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I write for everything. That's why it takes me so long to write because I get a request, watch the entire show/consume the entire source material, then I start writing until I get a new request and the cycle continues. I am the Sisyphus of fanfiction. One must imagine forgetmyname happy. Anyways. Thank you for the request. I needed an excuse to watch season 2 of Helluva Boss. And shoutout to my favorite mutual for inspo for this I lowkey stole major plot elements from your story please forgive me. They're a better writer than I am so if you're interested in reading the inspiration for the latter half of this fic check out this. Also this isn't particularly romantic, just two straight guy cool guy besties (peak reference).

-----

If the parties weren't bad enough, the meetings were. Was being a royal really worth it? Sure, immortality, woo. How nice it is to spend the next ten thousand years sucking up to other pompous avians.

Despite your less-than-enthusiastic outlook on royalty, being the youngest of your brothers made you the prime target for all the busy work one could hope for.

That's why you found yourself here. Due to your family's relative youth in terms of royalty, you're positioned to the very far end of an uncomfortably long table seating representatives from all the royal houses in hell.

What a bunch of pricks.

The etiquette that your parents had drilled into you from such a young age- you truly believe they conceived you to be the perfect little delivery boy to turn errands for them- is the only thing keeping you in your seat and this stuffy cape and outfit on your body.

After a wait that could have lasted from 15 minutes to 15 years, the host of this meeting finally makes his entrance. As much as you like to pride yourself in your blasé attitude, being in the presence of King Paimon is enough to shut you up and sit you down.

"Welcome everyone please stop your yammering and listen to me. God when did there get to be so fucking many of you." Paimon announces as he makes his entrance.

"As I'm sure a few of you know hell is currently experiencing some unfortunate economic... blah blah blah"

Could this get any more boring? As you fight to keep your eyes in focus you notice someone standing by the door behind you. It's one of Paimon's sons. Stolas. Long time no see. You and Stolas used to be close, but the weight of royalty split you two apart.

Wow, he looks just as bored as you. I guess being Paimon's son would mean you get dragged along to a lot of borin- "You! Raven boy. Not to be rude or anything but what do you people even do?" Your internal monologue is cut off by Paimon. You don't respond for a beat, internally laughing at how Paimon literally doesn't know who you are or what your family does but you still have to be at this stupid meeting.

"We keep the humans out of hell, Your Highness." You respond dryly. It takes you a second to even notice that you've responded. The line is so ingrained into your lexicon that it practically says itself.

"Right! That's the totally important job I gave your very... snicker... esteemed family." Paimon snorts out, barely containing his mocking laughter. A handful of other representatives stifle laughs at your expense.

Oh, the joys of being a Corvus Arcana. The least royal royal family in hell.

"Yes well, you're dismissed. You're needed for other important tasks. Prince Stolas will direct you. Thank you for your time." Paimon says with mock sincerity.

Oh. Stolas. Yes. You know Stolas. You're flooded with memories of the two of you back at the old "Center for Princes to be" It was a glorified daycare, really. You two got up to a lot. He taught you a lot about the starts, and bugs, and everything he read about. You taught him how to make spit balls and get out of trouble you put yourself in.

You rise from your seat, flipping your cape as you walk to the door. In royal etiquette flipping your cape at someone is somewhat rude. Exactly what you wanted.

The conversation behind you restarts as you reach the door. Stolas is waiting for you with a nervous smile on his face, almost like he's got bad news.

"Ah, I remember you! I didn't know it was you who my father was talking about! Let's head out, shall we?" Stolas remarks oh so professionally. He's looking right at you, using his eyes to try and convince you he's excited about your new task, but you know him well enough to tell he'd rather be anywhere else right now.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" you respond sarcastically. Both of you know you were chosen for this because of your less-than-stellar family image.

"Ah! Well! You see- You were chosen for your... unique skills and inspired professionalism! Yes of course!" Stolas sputters out trying to respond without admitting that you were chosen because you're the trailer park trash of the royal family.

A smile creeps onto your face at the owl's half-baked response. He was never the most socially perceptive, even in his youth. You follow the tall owl out of the meeting room and down some of the winding hallways of Paimon's manor.

"Well hopefully my 'inspired professionalism' landed me something to do besides sitting in that room. How bad could it be? As long as it's not something stupid like stacking boxes." You respond lackadaisically. You look to Stolas for a reaction but he seems fully focused on looking at some dusty old paintings on the wall.

Then you round a corner into a freshly moved into bedroom. So fresh that boxes are strewn about. You look up at Stolas who's scratching the back of his head and looking anywhere and everywhere but your direction.

"No way. It's stacking boxes." You state dumbfounded.

"If it's any recourse I will be helping you unpack. That's our mission. Isn't that... heh... fun?" Stolas replies. You look him up and down. Both of you know how stupid this is.

You just sigh.

Twenty minutes later you're unpacking boxes. Your cape is discarded on the bed, the effort of moving boxes with both magic and your birdy body causing you to break a sweat, and as promised Stolas is helping. You can't help but sneak glances at him. He really has changed a lot since you were kids. He's a lot taller for one thing. Besides the obvious physical change, he seems to never have really put himself together. You can tell he's struggling.

Ruffled feathers, quick to anger, and somewhat mopey. To an average royal this would seem pretty normal. Royals aren't known for their vigor and lust for life. To you, these are signs that he's not doing so hot. Struggling to lift a white cardboard box labeled "FRAGILE!" the tall owl is surprisingly human- well, demon? Humanized? He seems a lot more likable than the rest of the royals.

You decide to break the silence. "So tell me. What's a big important bird like you doing unpacking boxes with lil old me?" It's almost self-deprecating the way you look down on yourself.

"Me?- Ah of course he means you- My father brings me along as a secretary of sorts to his meetings when I'm available." Stolas responds while trying to not trip over a box of pillows as he places knickknacks he got out of a box around the dresser.

You snort at his response. "I have a secretary but she doesn't unpack rooms." You banter at him. This seems to irk Stolas. "Yes well since my divorce it seems my father can't resist the urge to assign me silly tasks as if I were some child in need of a distraction." Stolas snaps at you. He drops his volume at the mention of his divorce, which has surely affected how he is perceived by the other royals.

Despite how peeved he sounds by your comment, it sounds more like he's disheartened than truly upset.

You had heard of his divorce. You didn't care. Your family was never huge on the whole arranged marriage thing. You weren't even married yet, which for a prince of your age was unheard of in most other families.

You smile, half sympathetically, half filled with schadenfreude. "Join the club." An uncomfortable silence fills the air after your response. Stolas was aware of how your family is treated. It seemed silly to complain about being assigned trivial tasks like unpacking a room to a Corvus Arcana. It's sort of like complaining about a paper cut to a man missing both his arms.

"I apologize," Stolas says.

"For what?" You respond quizzically. "For how the others treat you. Merely because your lineage is young does not justify the lack of respect or meaningful assignments they've received from the other royals." Stolas says.

The uncomfortable silence fills the air once again. Stolas had always been the only person to treat you like a true royal. Back in the day, he was the only one to play with you, share with you, or even really acknowledge you. You two unpack in silence. After another ten minutes of unpacking you finally can't take it anymore.

"This blows. Wanna ditch this stupid "assignment"?" You stretch your arms and let the box you were carrying fall to the ground with a thump. Stolas looks at you dumbfounded.

"Ditch? Like... 'play hooky'? No... I could never! I'm much to old for that type of behavior now." Stolas seems aghast at the idea of offending his father. You turn around and grin at him. "Oh like anyone's gonna miss us! There's a million servants around here that can unpack this dumb room. Let's ditch this. Or are you gonna tell me you're having a blast?"

"That's not the point. I can't just leave!" Stolas retorts.

"You're an adult now. Plus King Paimon clearly doesn't care what we're up to. No one's checked on us. C'mon, we used to do this all the time. It'll be like back then when we used to sneak away from the nannies at daycare." You rebuttal. You can see Stolas fighting with himself over what to do.

The look on Stolas' face is priceless. There's nothing quite like a royal trying to decide if it's worth doing something considered "non-royal".

"I suppose it's okay to leave unannounced... I read something about the human country of Ireland and how its people say goodbye without saying anything and-" Stolas realizes he's rambling. "Ah well... yes. I guess I'd like to leave."

You shake your head in mock surprise at his overly introspective response. "Follow me."

You two walk in silence for a moment. You're spending the quiet time considering your current circumstances. You and the prince of the Ars Goatia are playing hooky from a meeting neither of you were really invited to. Huh. Interesting spot you've found yourself in.

Conversely, Stolas is trying his best to keep his cool. He's not so used to just leaving these types of things. You two have also not spoken much since you were young. There was never any bad blood or anything, being a royal is just time-consuming.

Stolas follows closely behind you as you walk out of the castle. "So... if you don't mind me asking..." Stolas begins, waiting for your confirmation to continue. After a quick nod from you, Stolas furrows his brow, contemplating his words before speaking, "Your..." He pauses, searching for a diplomatic way to phrase it. "casual demeanor seems almost at odds with your status as a royal. It's always been quite intriguing, I must say. Most other royals tend to carry themselves with a certain..." He gestures with a hand. "formality, shall we say. Your informal manner is indeed a rare sight." Stolas asks you.

The owl's attempts at not offending you are admirable. "Well. My family is much younger than yours, as you know. While your family and all the others gained power at the very start of hell my family rose to power a short three hundred years ago. To put it bluntly, we don't really do all the royal stuff." You respond, trying to explain your family's situation.

"I see... fascinating." Stolas offers. The two of you make it out of the castle without another word.

You two find yourselves behind the castle. You hop up on a small ledge to see over the hedges. Stolas, being tall, can see over just fine.

"Well. The world's our oyster." You say. The night is fresh upon you and the city shines spectacularly below you. You look up at Stolas with a mischievous grin. "How quickly would your dad notice if his fancy schmancy car went missing?"

Stolas snickers at your question. "We'll just have to find out I suppose."

-----

I don't really like how this turned out but I also feel like I say that after everything I write. I'm also pretty rusty (and slightly intoxicated). Life has been up my ass for like two years so that's where I've been. Once again, massive props to freakyfrye for a lot of inspiration behind this. I had no clue where to take it but I read their story and it was great! Worth checking out. Anyways I hope you enjoyed.

[undertale-fic-librarby]

I need fics where Error used to be Geno and in love with Reaper and now they meet again, do you have any suggestions?

Howdy, thanks for asking! Here are some fics that might fit what you're looking for!

The Killing kind by Henny126 (Mature, Incomplete)

Geno has been gone for so long and yet Reaper still holds on looking for him. Will a close encounter with the Destroyer help him towards his prize?

What We Do For Family by yastaghr (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

What if Geno turned into Error after being with Reaper and having Goth?

Bonds are Complicated by Viktori_Wolff (Not Rated, Incomplete)

Error's past is coming back to haunt him, but maybe the Grim Reaper is just what he needs to move on.

Major Arcana Number XIII by GetMcDunkedOn (Mature, Complete)

Reaper loved Geno so terribly much, losing him was like losing a part of himself. But finding Error was wonderful, a heartfelt reunion of an old love and a gradual falling in love anew all over again, both tenderly mixed together. That was his point of view on it every moment. Error, on the other hand... His perspective needed some polishing. Accepting change takes time, after all.

corruption of data by necropathy (General Audiences, Incomplete)

Reaper appeared to pick his words carefully before uttering them. "I know you haven't met Goth, and how you feel about large gatherings, but I wanted to extend the invitation anyway." "...You're inviting-g-g me?" Error asked incredulously, his brow bone furrowed in confusion. "Of course." Reaper confirmed, eye-lights burning into Error's own as he spoke, without a single note of hesitation. "You are very important to me, just as Goth is. I think its natural to want to celebrate important occasions with those close and dear to you, no?" A belated introduction goes awry in an unexpected way.

[happysaddca]

Some notes.

First, thank you @overly-dramatic-artist for letting me borrow Cassandra. I hope I didn't write her totally OOC. As I was telling @wyervan, I actually have a tarot tattoo of the major arcana that resonates the most with me (the hermit), so this was really fun.

That said there's no beta. And there's gonna be tarot notes at the bottom because I pulled out my watercolor Linestrider deck to do an actual reading for Ellis and I wanna discuss my choice in interpretation.

I'm not writing in chronological order but this definitely takes place a couple months before this fic from yesterday (there's a TW for violence against animals on it. I promise no animals are seriously harmed).

Oh and @authormeat Merlin mention. I just kinda made up Mer's coffee order without asking sorry. v.v;

“Morning Knapp. Usual order for the arcade?”

Ellis isn’t even fully inside yet, struggling with stomping off the excess snow from their boots. They wave off Cassandra’s greeting, pulling their glasses off to clean as the door slams shut. “Add a black coffee, lots of sugar. Merlin’s in today.” 

Coffee runs are not Ellis’s favorite thing to do, but as the resident floater and go-for, and with the recent cold snap, this has become a daily routine. And it’s not all bad, they have to admit. They don’t drink coffee, but Cassandra feeds them scones in exchange for shoveling and salting the sidewalk. 

Cassandra’s working now on the order, giving Ellis time to free themselves of some of the excess layers. “Your sidewalk stayed clear overnight?” 

“I don’t think it snowed last night.” Cassandra’s got one of the bigger machines going for Sun’s espresso, whatever that was. Ellis leans against the counter to watch Cassandra fill a hand grinder and set up a glass container—a French press, they vaguely remember. For Merlin’s coffee maybe? Or Moon. They can’t keep track. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you with something? I know some of our coffees are more sugar than bean. You might actually like it.”

“No thank you, at all. I don’t want to turn into Sun.” Cassandra laughs and Ellis hides a smile in the collar of their coat. They like making people laugh. 

And they like watching Cassandra work. She reminds them a lot of the people Gertrude hung around: big earrings that catch the hairs not caught up and contained with the wavy plastic hairband or giant clip. It’s early enough to still be cool in the cafe, so Ellis pushes away from the counter when Cassandra finishes prepping the machine and turns to them. 

“If I can’t tempt you with coffee, what about a reading?” Ellis turns to look out the window at the street, stuffing their hands back in their coat. “Oh come on. What is it this time? Don’t believe in the power of tarot?”

“Don’t fuck with that shit.” Ellis mumbles it more to themself than addressing Cassandra, and they can feel their face go hot. “I live in a tiny bus. If I invite demons in, I’ll never know peace. Hell, Moon already takes over my bed half the time.” 

“Does he really?” Another laugh, a giggle really, but when Ellis glances Cassandra’s way, her grin is far, far too bright. Cassandra has the good grace to look away until her expression smoothes out. “Is my coffee not strong enough for him?”

“I’m not sure it affects him or Sun really. Pretty sure they got that stuff where caffeine just doesn’t get absorbed, you know? The ADD shit.” It’s gossip, but it’s not about them, so Ellis is okay with it. They return to the counter when there’s a hiss of steam. “What’re you doing?” 

“Somebody didn’t clean the espresso machine properly last night and I only just realized.” Cassandra pulls a something out and makes a face. “Spoiled milk. I’m gonna have to flush the system. It’ll take a few minutes.” 

Silence, other than Cassandra grabbing a pitcher and filling it with water. Once the machine is self-cleaning, she glances Ellis’s way. “Are you sure—?”

“The demons Cass.” 

“What if I promise no demons? Cross my heart and everything?” The look she’s giving Ellis is steady, a touch of hopeful. Ellis has been coming in off and on for almost a year now and they still haven’t had a reading. Maybe Cassandra wasn’t used to people holding off that long.

Why was Ellis being so reluctant anyway? They didn’t believe in demons, not really, and they weren’t sure tarot could actually tell the future. Or maybe that was the problem. Future telling didn’t mean a lot when they weren’t sure there was a future to be had. 

This wasn’t something they liked to think about often. 

“Okay.” They sigh. This would make Cassandra happy and she does have access to the best scones. And they like her. Star, Sun, Moon, and the others do too. Cassandra’s smile is infectious and they manage a small one back, following her to one of the smaller tables. They aren’t surprised to find Cassandra has a deck handy, easily shuffling as she walks and sits. 

“You’re not going to be all spooky about this, are you?” Ellis perches on the edge of their seat, gesturing vaguely behind them. “Cause I do remember where you keep the salt. I’ll take it and run.” 

“Not spooky no. I’m not a spooky fortune teller. It’s just a friendly reading.” She’s still shuffling. Ellis is already impressed. Tarot cards are so much larger than playing cards, and Cassandra is acting like they aren’t basically the same length as her entire hand. It’s while Ellis is staring that Cassandra pauses her riffle shuffle, neatly stacking the deck together and passing it across the table. 

“Um, what do you…?” They look down and up again, resisting the urge to chew on the inside of their cheek. They start to push it back, but Cassandra closes a hand over theirs. 

“You just have to cut the deck. It’s a way to get more in tune with the cards,” she explains, and Ellis starts to make a face. Cassandra lifts a finger, tapping her nail lightly against the back of Ellis’s hand. “I know you don’t really believe in this, but indulge me. Please? I did promise no demons.” 

She’s friends with most of the arcade. She’s nice, and she has access to the best scones. She’s a friend and friends do this. Ellis repeats that to themself. Friends indulge in each other’s interests. Or, Ellis tries to. 

So they take the deck, unsurprised to find them too slick to manage on their own. They attempt to mimic Cassandra’s riffle, but it doesn’t take a psychic to see that failing, the cards flying free from their hands with barely any involvement from Ellis themself. They just sit and stare as a card with an embracing couple slips off the edge. If that’s what they think it is, they’re more than fine with it disappearing from play. 

Cassandra doesn’t seem to notice, more amused by the mess than upset. Even as Ellis tries to open their mouth, she just points at the table. “It looks like we’ve got your first card already.” 

“How? It’s just a mess.” Ellis has to follow Cass’s finger to a card sitting face up. “That one?” 

“Yes, it’s perfect. It even looks like you.” Cass gathers the other cards easily, flipping a few errant ones back the same direction as their brethren. The one card remains in place, but when Ellis goes to touch it, they’re lightly smacked. “Nu uh. That stays right there. He’s even already in the past.” 

“He?” Looking closer, Ellis can see that the person on the card is actually a man, dark-skinned like themselves, though that’s where the similarities end. He’s holding a sword, for one, blown about by a breeze in a field that looks almost cartoonish in contrast to his weapon. The card is helpfully labelled too — the page of swords. “What’s the past position?”

“Well, since it’s your first reading—”

“My only reading.” 

“— I thought we’d keep it simple. Or did you have a question in mind?” Cassandra has her deck held neatly in her hands once more, two cards missing. 

“Isn’t it too late for that?” 

Cassandra shakes her head, curls flying despite the clip holding most of them high on her head. “It’s never too late. The cards do hold meaning on their own of course, but they do their best when in concert. We could even just consider the page of swords to be your herald.”

Ellis’s confusion remains, and they slouch back into their chair, regretting playing nice and allowing this to happen. Their hands itch to do something, go out and shovel snow or, hell, they’ll go and clean the entire ballpit on their own. Scrub every ball by hand. But they’re here, and the espresso machine isn’t even whistling. “What’s my… herald?”

“It’s the card that resonates the most with you. Your beacon would be—but you’re not interested in all this.” 

“No,” Ellis agrees, though they are a little curious. They eye the page of swords more critically. He just looked so… carefree. There was no way they resonated or whatever with that. “What should I be asking?”

“Most people ask about finances or job security.” Cassandra shuffles slowly, each cut of the deck in time with a potential question. “Or they’ll ask about relationships—missing your family perchance?”

Ellis doesn’t know what their face does, but there’s a painful lump in their chest that spreads ice through their ribs and heart before they can even try to answer. They shake their head quickly, not trusting their ability to speak. 

“Okay, well there’s talking to demons—no, don’t look at me like that it’s a joke silly—and, oh. Romance is pretty big.” Ellis must’ve looked sour because Cassandra just smiles. “We’ll just keep it gen ed today. Ready for the next card?” 

“I don’t know what this one means,” Ellis complains, but the second card is already laid out, a knight on a horse with a cup in hand. Of course, it’s labelled too: knight of cups. 

“This is your present card by the way,” Cassandra supplies helpfully and Ellis shrugs back into their jacket, wishing they’d picked up Moon’s tendency to wear hoods. They were starting to see the appeal. 

Cassandra can tell they’re frustrated, or maybe she just knows that the espresso machine is nearly done with its cleaning cycle because the third card is laid out with little fanfare. “And the future. The Empress.”

Ellis straightens up. “Hey, it’s upside down,” they complain. “It’s from me making a mess of things, isn’t it?” The woman on a cushioned throne isn’t facing Ellis like the other two cards.

“No, no, it’s on purpose.” 

“This doesn’t happen in the movies,” Ellis protests, and Cassandra laughs.

“This isn’t the movies and these cards aren’t being picked on purpose to be scary or whatever ham-fisted message is being communicated in the moment. All cards are important here, and they can have meanings while reversed, like our Empress is here today.” Cassandra sets the remainder of her deck down, setting it aside so she can lean forward and look over the cards more closely. After a moment, she clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “I’m not sure you’re gonna like this Ellis.” 

“What?” they ask. 

“This is pretty pointedly referencing a relationship of some sort.” Cassandra taps the middle card first. “This guy right here, hopeless romantic really. And in the present too, so it’s a current relationship we’re concerned about.” 

Ellis does not like that their mind immediately goes to Moon. They do not like how their stomach twists either, and they slump further back in their seat. “The cards are assholes.” 

“Okay, well, let me think.” Cassandra pushes the first card over, the page. “This is you coming into the situation, whatever situation it is you’re thinking of here, bursting with ideas and creativity. That sounds like you, doesn’t it? You live in a bus and Star’s told me about some plushies you’ve fixed up for them.” 

“I… I guess.” That’s what that card means? They frown at it. It still looks too childishly happy with that big sword. Cassandra fingers moves to the knight. The romantic. Ellis bristles. 

“This is warning you not to live off a fantasy. Whatever bright new ideas you’re having, you’re dreaming about them too much or maybe even trying to talk yourself out of it.” 

“That doesn’t sound particularly romantic.” 

Cassandra spreads her fingers over the page and the knight. “These two cards are playing off each other. Swords are of the mind, and cups are of emotion. You’re thinking too much about something instead of just following your heart and doing whatever it is you’re thinking about.” 

“Like… a project?” 

“A project, a trip… and yes, a relationship?” Cassandra meets Ellis’s eyes and they fumble for their glasses, desperate for the barrier. They’d been left by the door, so Ellis is pinned in place, Cassandra feeling like she could read their emotions better than themself. Her voice softens. “Is it someone from the arcade?” 

The question frees Ellis, their gaze dropping down to the table and the upside down card. “You didn’t explain her yet. And why she’s upside down.”

Cassandra pauses, settling back quietly in place and picking up the Empress, twirling the card in her fingers. “She’s…” A sigh, and the card goes back down. “There’s two cards, the Empreror and the Empress. They’re tied strongly to gender, something which you and Star especially don’t seem to care for.” 

“So is her being upside down me rejecting my femininity or something?” That is rude of the deck, and this time the thought is genuine, not a deflection from reality. Ellis catches the thought and frowns to themself. Why are they taking this that seriously?

“Not really no. Just wanted to tell you that sometimes these cards can be a bit judgey. And in this case, she’s telling you it might be time for some self-love. Maybe a trip?” 

“Oh.” Ellis stares at the card. “But… how does that tie in with the others?” 

Cassandra hesitates and the espresso machine whistles, steam escaping once more. “Oh!” A ringed hand sweeps the cards back into the deck, and Cassandra is standing. “Let me get those orders started for you before Sun sends someone looking for you.” 

“But, what about the cards?” Ellis twists in place, following Cassandra back behind the counter. 

“Thanks so much for indulging me Elllis! You like the chocolate scones right? We made some last night before I left for the day.” Like this, Ellis can just make out her hair bobbing about from where they’re sitting. They’re still confused. How did a trip solve overthinking? And what about the femininity part Cassandra mentioned; what’s the point in that? Mother nature maybe? 

They had been wanting to visit a friend lately… and they have been stagnant far too long. Was the deck saying it was time to move on? The sour feeling that left in their mouth disagreed, but even when they stood to try and get answers, Cassandra can’t seem to hear them over the machines. They give up, taking the order back over, forgetting their confusion when they realize Moon has once again broken into their bus for a nap. 

It’s after the late morning rush that Cassandra pulls her cards out once more, pulling the three out and musing over their reading. Ellis is a surprisingly easy read for someone who hates to give too much away. An idiot could tell they’ve gotten attached to one of the neighboring clowns. 

Which made this more concerning. Oh, the creative energy and warning not to just fantasize about what could be was straightforward enough. Ellis nor Moon were exactly forward with their intentions ever (even if Cassandra could see right through their facades). Ellis especially cared too much what others thought of them, all things the knight warns against in regular readings. 

But the Empress. 

If only she hadn’t been reversed. Abundance, connection, birth, though the latter was likely metaphorical here. Reversed was… stagnation, overprotectiveness, blockage from the self, from nature, from 

Well, if this reading was about Moon, and the retrieved Lovers indicated that was very likely, then maybe a trip out of town would do Ellis some good. 

----

Okay so tarot talk! The only card I chose on purpose was the Lovers, as Ellis is supposed to be someone who knows only the most generic of things about tarot and the Lovers, like the Devil, are oftentimes misread to be about one thing only. If I had actually pulled that for Ellis's reading, they would've died and the slasher au stuff I'm writing would be done.

I do poke a little fun at movies that insist on using tarot as foreshadowing. There's a tendency to use only the major arcana when the minor are so so so cool (I know, I know, I got the Hermit as a tattoo. Listen). Each suit has a different focus, and then each number or face as well. It actually helps a lot in learning how to read tarot quickly! For example, knights like our knight of cups are galvanizing forces. Cups are water based and focused on emotion, hence our hopeless and ever classic romantic man. Pages meanwhile are new and bringing forth raw youthful energy and passion. Swords are aligned with air and intellect, problem solving etc.

So the fact Ellis has the page in the past, bringing their raw energy and potential, and now the knight is pushing ahead in the present is just a really fucking cool reading that could go in so many ways. But with Ellis, them learning to bond with people and develop strong relationships is crucial, and Cassandra can tell. Ellis is an extremely awkward person to be around, and that's why it's so important to them to be able to recite who is important and why.

The way they do friendship is weird.

The Empress is a tough card for Ellis in particular. It's not come up, but they struggle with their femininity being intersex and learning as a young adult they could never carry a child to term. They spend a lot of time explicitly rejecting their femininity and AGAB, but it's not something that's come up yet since Moon doesn't really know or give a shit, you know?

Anyway, the Empress is such a powerfully feminine card discussing nurturing, nature, self-love, and creativity. Her popping up can be a sign to connect to your feminine side, be it through nature (as Cassandra suggests to Ellis), or some other way.

Reversed tarot cards you can usually ask yourself not "what is the opposite" necessarily but sorta "what is blocking you from the positives here?" Reversed Empress without the romantic and creative slant from our page and knight (such positive forces of energy!) would be pinpointing Ellis's lack of self-worth pretty damn hard. But with the two and with Cassandra knowing that the cards are trying to indicate Moon and Ellis's relationship here, we get this (simplified):

You entered a new point in your life, bringing with you new ideas and energy. A literal breath of fresh air for those with whom you came in contact. This positive energy has matured over the last yearish and you have begun sincerely bonding with people and dream of pursuing more (what is more here? Cassandra doesn't know that Ellis is aroace so she assumes it is romantic in nature). But there's a risk here if you do listen to the cards and pursue things into reality. And that is a powerfully imbalanced relationship, something that can smother Ellis with their current lack of self-worth or love.

It's a warning to Ellis that pursuing something that would make them happy could lead to them no longer being themselves. But is it a metaphorical death, a loss of self to Sun and Moon's greater agenda? Or will it be literal?

And what does poor Cass do here when she shares her name with the least listened to and most correct woman in Greek myth?

[rriavian]

Another random fic snippet based on a post I made ages ago, about Dream escaping Burgess's cage and accidentally teleporting straight to the Corinthian like he's got some bizarre major arcana programmed GPS.

@aisalynn helped me shape it into an actual plot idea (that's probably gonna be far more serious than the below) but for the time being please enjoy this slighty cracky little excerpt :)

-

The Corinthian opened the door to leave. 

Dream was standing there.

He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he immediately slammed it shut.

An instinctive reaction that, in hindsight, didn’t exactly give the impression of fearless independence the Corinthian had been going for. Quite the opposite actually. Funny how a split second could so effectively undermine one hundred years of meticulous planning. Well. He definitely needed to find a way to kill Dream now, if only to ensure a retelling of this very unfortunate situation never made its way to Lucienne’s ears. That would be unbearable. Which said nothing for the inevitably smug response of Dream himself. Urgh. The Corinthian might actually have to suffer through him gloating before being finally being destroyed.

How disgustingly underwhelming.

The Corinthian had thought there would at least be some stabbing, had wanted to see pain, raw and perfect, a tapestry of agony displayed across Dream's pretty features. Maybe some tears glimmering in his eyes. He’d thought a lot about their reunion in the last century and strangely enough ‘freak out and slam a door in Dream’s face’ hadn’t quite made the cut.

Hadn’t been on the list of possibilities at all actually.

Not only did it make no sense, but it wouldn’t even slow Dream down, let alone actually stop him. Yet staring at the dark wooden door the Corinthian had closed purely out of reflex, it somehow still seemed the best course of action.

If the Corinthian had a heart it would be pounding. 

What the fuck. 

How had Dream found him so quickly? It had barely been a minute since the Corinthian had felt him escape Burgess’s trap and already Dream had tracked him down? That little murder spree in Berlin must have really pissed him off. The Corinthian had no extra cues to his creators current mood; there had really only been a split second to take Dream in, a split second that, now he came to think of it, included far too much pale skin and nowhere near the expected layers of clothes. In fact, the Corinthian had no memory of any clothing whatsoever. Which was odd enough in itself, without the whole door slamming business, so he was frowning even before he heard the sound…

A single heavy thump like a body falling.

Like Dream of the Endless hitting the floor with a thud.

Which was absurd. 

So much so that the Corinthian couldn’t resist; had to look, needed to do something, because it wasn’t like Dream was likely to just go away, cracking open the door to check and—

Well would you look at that. 

He’d been right.