#zad plays

[zaddyazula]

I GOT THE LINEEEEEE

[zadz0]

spreading my our last summer satosugu agenda

[wendiglow]

I started this drawing in December, burned out, but I liked where it was going. Frankly it's been too long and I don't have the drive to do it justice. Let's pretend I didn't do really lazy shading to finish it and call it a day. Not enough time has passed for a redraw yet, but it's definitely getting a redraw. Maybe next year.

Anyway, here are my oldest and still active OCs, Kano and Zad! (There is a third character as well, named, Randall and they make a trio. He's just as important, just didn't have the patience to add him.)

Kano is a pre war robot that was part of a RobCo line commissioned by Vault Tec to be distributed into various vaults to fill in roles where humans were lacking (such a teacher, doctor, parent etc.). The bombs fell and they never made it post production. I made Kano quite a while before Fallout 4 or institute synths were a thing, so he's not affiliated with the institute lore wise.

I was 9 when I first played Fallout 3 and made Kano, and naturally I was excited at the choice of hair color as any little kid would. The pink hair became so integral to Kano's character, I couldn't change it. When he was first made, his hair was blonde like the rest of the robots in his line. It turned pink over the couple hundred years from being exposed to various chemicals ( I love using shitty Sci fi logic to justify my choices lol).

I'm in my early 20s now, and these characters have grown up with me. I have PLENTY of Fallout characters as Fallout is my one true love, so I'm sure you'll be seeing them again!

Here's an old drawing of Randall (lowkey looking yassified the fuck), since it's strange to show Kano and Zad without him.

P.S. I had Sticky with me when I was trying to take this screenshot for the picture, and he wouldn't shut up.

[staticymaticyyourlifeisatravesty]

The Severed

(Lilith tries to deal with all that's happened since her return)

Tags: Limb loss, discussion of death, angst, avoidance of family, mention of death, Violence

Cary and Zadkiel belong to @sorormaior and @jaghatai-khock respectively

Cary took a deep breath and closed the door behind them. It'd been difficult to see Zadkiel like that, without his wings...and the way he was talking...it was like he'd given up. At least he was asleep now...

A warm presence approaching alerted them to the approach of Lilith who looked more then a little concerned. She was different then how Cary remembered her, older yet with the same youthful face she'd had ten thousand years ago. She smiled less, they'd noticed. It made sense as to why, but it still made them sad because they remembered how she used to smile, especially around Mircalla. They were sweet together those two, even if Cary was convinced that it would cause some sort of scandal. Well, unless you counted the fact Mircalla straight up left the eighth legion in order to be with her girlfriend after Curze decided to go rogue. Cary for their part sighs and says "You should really go in and see him when he wakes. He's probably not going to for a few hours, the apothecary gave him some sedatives. But when he does, you should."

Lilith nods at their words, "I will. I've been visiting when he's asleep mostly. He doesn't want to see me. Has he been drinking my tea?"

"Not sure if he is, but he's been having problems eating in general it seems like. Bring some when he wakes. He should know you're still visiting him" Cary tells her "You two used to be close, I understand that he probably doesn't want to see you, but you should while he's awake. It'll do him some good"

"...I suppose, I guess making sure he drinks the tea is probably my priority. He would do better away from here, that is my belief. Fig has a right to dislike our father, and I will admit I have gained complicated feelings myself over him. I know he did his best, but I still can't help but think of the Mask he wore. How much of it was him and how much of it was the mask?" Lilith asks, seemingly to herself, her feathers fluffed "I see the same mask on my brother, the imperium has been nothing but a blight upon my family. Twisting and changing those who were fine before, but now are not. Are they not perfect as they are?"

Cary quietly listens to Lilith's rant, it sounded like something she'd had bottled up for the past ten thousand years. A thing she'd largely been unable to voice. When Lilith finally seems to be done with besmirching her grandfather's name and all but denouncing the imperium, Cary still doesn't speak, they just pull Lilith into a hug. Yes they might be shorter, but the way Lilith leans down and wraps her wings around them in return says more then enough of what Lilith needed. A quiet sob leaves Lilith and soon enough, Cary can smell the scent of blood as tears began to fall from Lilith's eyes.

"Why? Why did this have to happen? Was my father not enough payment for His crimes? Must my brother suffer and be forced to play a role? What about Fig? Dira? I hate it, I hate it all. I want to be strong for them, I do, it's just-"

"You don't need to be. You can just be there for them. If you need some time to yourself, just say so" Cary says gently "I get it. You've lost a lot to the imperium and you're angry. I get it. You're allowed to feel that."

"I feel useless, Cary, I can't do anything for those I love and I fear that they'll all just slip out of my fingers one day. I should've gone after Zad when he left. I could've stopped it, I could-"

"Hey, hey, kid, listen. There's nothing you could've done. You didn't know. What you can do is be there for him now. You're different these days and I can't quite put my finger on it as to why, but you still need to take time for yourself" Cary interrupts "Come on, Zad's not gonna wake for a few more hours, and I recall you used to love bone carving. I'm sure we can hunt down a bone or two for you"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next Zadkiel awoke, it was not to Cary but to his sister. At first he didn't entirely comprehend where he was or what he was looking at, just basking in the warmth he felt before he woke up properly. He stiffens as he catches sight of Lilith, a large kettle and two large ivory cups stood on his bedside table. He can smell a familiar floral scent and knows that it's her personal brew. He blinks as he sees strange flowers growing on vines around his room, they look like lilies, yet not, like a lotus on blackened vines of wild roses, the petals a bloody red with a faint golden glow casting a soft light around the room. "Lilith...? What are you doing here? I thought..." Zadkiel looks around in confusion as he sees that the flowers seem to be growing out of the metal itself, not a pot with soil to be found.

Lilith merely smiles "Visiting you. Why else would I be here? I brought some of my tea, I know it soothes your pain better then anything else"

"I...thanks... for the tea, I mean" he shifts uncomfortably and tries to look for any sign of pity or disgust in his gaze upon finding none he huffs "I don't know how you can look at me the same as you did before. I lost my wings, some son of dad I am"

"You're still the same, you're still my little brother. A lack of wings isn't going to change that" Lilith reassures him "Ayah wouldn't judge you for it and nor will I. You have less pain now, yes? That is what matters most, is you getting healthy again. Here, have some tea"

"I mean...yes? No? Maybe? I honestly can't tell, it's weird not having them" Zadkiel admits as he takes the steaming cup of tea from his sister. He takes a sip and he can't help the sigh of relief as the warm liquid seems to so quickly take away his pain, even for a little while. It's not permanent, but even a moment of no pain is a blessing.

"I can understand that. I once lost a wing myself. I can't imagine how it would feel to have neither." Lilith sympathizes, "Though having it surgically removed is likely a lot more pleasant then having it ripped off, I imagine", She adds wearily

He blinks in confusion, and looks at the two perfectly healthy and large wings upon his sister's back "Ripped off...? But you have.."

Lilith chuckles lightly "This isn't my first body, Zad, not even my second. I'm not even sure what body this is any more, just that I've died many times. A quirk of being a perpetual. Forever bound to the mortal coils, and never able to leave it for long. It's how I've managed to survive for this long"

That made sense, he supposed, but Zadkiel couldn't but look at his sister in a new light. He knew she was a perpetual, but it had never really him what that entailed exactly, "Does it hurt to die?" Zadkiel asked before he could stop himself. At the slight hitch of breath from her, he quickly adds "Wait no, that was rude, you don't have to answer that if you don't want to"

There is silence until Lilith speaks up quietly "Usually yes, it does. Our family is not known for it's peaceful deaths. It was only painless once, and that was when Grandfather took my life. I asked him, for I was useless in the depths, but to his credit, I did not suffer pain"

There's an uncomfortable silence as Zadkiel digests that, he has no idea why Lilith would ask the Emperor to kill her, nor does he want to know the circumstances. He decides not to question further and instead sips on his tea. After awhile he asks "What is...Lion up to these days? I heard that he's across the rift"

"Doing well, all things considered. Has yet to control his ability to teleport along with learning to show emotions. Just trying to rebuild his legion honestly, and looking to protect what worlds he can" Lilith responds honestly

"Does he know that legions aren't really a thing anymore...?"

"He does, and he thinks it stupid, a sentiment I share in. We are weaker as individual chapters then we were as legions. I understand why Guilliman made such a decisions, but it puts us at a disadvantage." Lilith remarks "I suppose I can't say much I was given the Mourning suns, and they were never a large legion, but we do our job and we do it well, even if it is from within a well of exile. I say exile might actually suit them"

Zadkiel nods at that. He can understand why Lilith might prefer being in exile. He still can't believe she was exiled in the first place, but then again, she had never liked the Imperium anyway, having had a mindset similar to the Khan on it. Though he's glad she never turned traitor. He wasn't sure if he could handle losing his big sister to the ruinous powers, even at this age. From what he could tell, her chapter was mutated, but no more warp touched then any other loyalist chapter stuck in the warp. If anything, the mutations just seemed to be a quirk from her geneseed and the ingestion of her blood.

He wondered if perhaps exile would him as good as it did her...

[sophie-frm-mars]

What are some recipes you've been enjoying recently?

Well I'm shifting from hearty winter food to a more summery set of recipes at the moment (though I'm keeping dauphinoise potatoes in the rotation bc I love those cheesy taters) so I'm enjoying cooking stuff with different staples and bases.

I've been doing tuna steaks on couscous with cucumber and soy sauce a bit recently, boiling the couscous with dried garlic granules and a vegetable stock cube - very simple and hard to get wrong but so so tasty. Sometimes I also add roast red peppers or boiled eggs

Someone I was dating last year once made me a salad with fried chicken, roast pepper, avocado, boiled eggs and a handful each of walnut pieces and chopped peanuts. The dressing was oil, honey, peanut butter, soy sauce and paprika. I've been doing permutations on that template to play with different flavours when I feel like having a light but tasty dinner. My wife hates tomatoes, which is probably the biggest casualty of my eating habits since she moved in haha but otherwise I'd definitely want baby tomatoes in any salad too

Other than that I've been getting into Indian food for a bit now. My dal makhani game is getting stronger for sure, and I've had fun making my own onion bhajis once or twice now. When I was making dinner for my comrades on the ZAD I made a dal, a fried vegetable rice a bit like vangi bath but we had no aubergines, spicy baked cauliflower and rice flour rotis. I was proud of that, that's the first time I've ever cooked for 10 people

[tranz-regent]

trauma writing in mha doeznt work

i uzed to be a huge fan of mha. it waz one of the firzt anime and manga i got really into and haz characterz i ztill love. but there zomething about it thatz been a problem for a long time. and thatz how it treatz abuze

horikoshi (and the fandom) haz thiz little writing problem i like to call 'bad thingz are bad (unlezz they happen to katsuki bakugo)'

when todoroki getz hit and yelled by hiz parentz, itz framed az incredibly tragic and horrific and the art reflectz thiz

thiz iz a hurt and zcared child, we're zuppozed to feel bad thiz happened

when katsuki getz hit and yelled at by hiz parentz?

itz framed az comedic

thiz iz a 16 year old being yelled at hiz mother for being kidnapped. thiz iz a ZIXTEEN YEAR OLD being blamed for GETTING KIDNAPPED

but the art and framing are telling me i zhould be finding thiz funny?? im zorry are we having fucked up parentz be dark comedy or actually zeriouz?

or, hey. another example. zportz feztival. when ojiro zayz he wantz to drop out of the zportz feztival becauze he doeznt feel he earned hiz victory?

that choice iz rezpected. he getz to drop out with no problemz

when katsuki zayz he doeznt feel he earned the 1zt place in the sports festival and doeznt want the medal?

he getz drugged, chained and muzzled to a ztone podium on live fucking televizion. and when Mizter Number One Bezt hero all might comez up? he forcez the medal into hiz mouth with only the comment 'well thiz iz a bit much'

zeriouzly, think about thiz. thiz iz a bunch of 'heroz' doing thiz to a, again, 16 year old becauze he. wanted a fair fight? becauze he dared to tell them no?

hell, the only people in-univerze to even comment on thiz are the league of villainz when they, az mentioned before, kidnap him.

and not only doez thiz cheapen the effect of the todoroki family ztoryline (even before we got to the current ztory) it alzo deztroyz any zympathy i have for 99% of the cazt.

when midnight died i waznt thinking 'oh no thatz zo zad they juzt lozt a great hero and teacher' i waz thinking about how she drugged a teenager for zaying no.

when aizawa talkz about how he carez about hiz ztudentz im thinking hez a fucking liar becauze he waz there for both the bakugo home vizit and the sports festival and he didnt do jack zhit to help katsuki. who iz his ztudent.

when there waz that wierd fucking arc about aoyama ztalking deku or whatever and it getz framed az creepy, im not zympathizng for deku becauze hez literally introduced az writing all hiz obzervationz about hiz clazzmatez (including bakugo) down in hiz notebookz. which iz alzo fucking creepy. zo im juzt thinking hez a fucking hypocrite getting a tazte of hiz own medicine

when all might getz praized for anything i juzt think he doeznt dezerve it becauze he waz alzo there for both the sports festival and the home vizit (and unlike aizawa he doeznt even have the excuze of being in a full body cazt for the feztival. and itz not even the firzt time he waz around katsuki in a horrible zituation

thiz zeem a bit familiar to anyone? maybe? maybe zomething that happened in the very beginning of the ztory?

yeah. and all might walked away from that too

a bnha zerver i uzed to be in a did a count of how many adultz katsuki had no bad interactionz with and it waz like. 5. of the whole cazt.

thzi iz a 16 year old, thiz iz a kid, who iz routinely treated horribly by the adultz around him and nearly every time itz framed like itz funny. like im zuppozed to be finding a kid being hit, yelled at, chained, muzzled and ignored comedic.

and maybe it could have worked. dark comedy iz a thing having fucked up family or zchool dynamicz being played for laughz can work.

but then when thiz kind of ztuff happenz to any one elze itz meant to be zeen az traumatizing and horrible and like i zhould feel bad. and you cant treat child abuze az actual abuze for zome characterz, but comedy for otherz, becauze it fuckz with the effect of both

[song-writer-melo-wrath]

Silly Game Time: What was the last meme or joke that made you burst out laughing?

One of my roommates has been playing a lot of Elder Scrolls: Oblivion lately, and their character has a pointy hat and tunic on right now. Which resulted in another roommate and I having this exchange:

R: Oh look. Leg of Zeg. Me: Zad. R: Lonk Me: Lonk of Zonk, Bronk of the Wonk R: TONK OF THE KONKDONK Me: TWONKLONK PRONKCONK Oblivion roommate, hearing all of this: Stop

Yeah, I was in tears after “tonk of the konkdonk”

[dailyanarchistposts]

The Storm Rages

“Fuck May ’68, fight now!” –Unknown

On May Day morning, as is customary, several small morning gatherings occurred before the classic massive demonstration in the afternoon. That morning, no fewer than five different actions were planned. Around 10 am, traditional unions and organizations (including the CGT, FO, FSU, Solidaires, and UNEF) gathered at the Père Lachaise cemetery in front of the “Mur des Fédérés”—the wall where many of the last participants in the Paris Commune were executed. (Although the Communards died fighting as revolutionaries, they have been dead long enough that these legalistic organizations can risk keeping company with them.) At 10:30 am, a morning demonstration took place in Saint-Denis, a northern suburban city. At 11 am, after leaving their own traditional morning procession, some people gathered in downtown Paris in memory of Brahim Bouarram, a 29-year-old man killed on May 1, 1995 by supporters of the French National Front after they left the National Front May Day morning procession. At noon, as usual, the traditional annual anarcho-syndicalist march left Place des Fêtes to walk to the departure point of the afternoon procession. Finally, around 1 pm, people were supposed to meet at Place de la Bastille for a lively gathering to support the ZAD.

In view of the threats of the authorities, we decided to play it safe and joined the anarcho-syndicalist march to get a sense of the situation in the field. Once we reached Place des Fêtes, some of us decided to redecorate the police station with personal messages and posters about the Haymarket affair and the origins of May Day. As more and more people arrived, it was already apparent that a lot of autonomists, anarchists, and other radicals had decided to join the morning festivities before the afternoon march. Throughout the crowd, we could hear people speaking in French, Italian, German, and English. International call or not, some comrades had decided to visit France and spend May Day in Paris with us.

The morning march finally started. Everything went smoothly; trade unionists and families walked alongside autonomists and newer generations of anarchists while police remained almost invisible the entire time. Some of us took this opportunity to take action: banks and insurance companies saw their front windows smashed and colorful messages appeared on the walls. As we were approaching Place de la Bastille, the departure point of the afternoon procession, tension and apprehension were palpable. Would the police actually stop and search everyone attempting to join the May Day demonstration? Not at all! As the anarchist procession passed a group of policemen in plainclothes (members of the anti-criminality brigade, the BAC) and insulted them, we reached the Place de la Bastille. We had entered the belly of the beast without a hitch!

When we arrived, the Place de la Bastille was packed. Thousands of people already thronged the streets, making their way through the numerous food trucks, traditional organizations, political stands, and balloons. As in 2017, we decided to leave traditional organizations behind us and hurried to catch up with the front of the procession. Along the bassin de l’Arsenal, hidden by the blossoming trees, the colorful crowd progressively changed color. Waves of black appeared among the leading procession. Once everyone was properly changed and equipped, we all moved forward to reach the first lines of the march, already located on the Austerlitz bridge. Once on the bridge, we realized that we would not be at the front of this May Day demonstration, as another crowd of activists was already walking ahead of us.

The beginning of the demonstration was quite strange. While we waited on the bridge, a line of journalists separated us from the front of the procession. All the corporate media outlets wanted to have their own footage of the impressive bloc that was occupying the bridge. For long minutes, we remained completely static; several smoke bombs and torches were lit and the banners at the front formed a perfect line. To us, this entire situation was unproductive and somehow narcissistic, as it seemed that part of the bloc was completely at ease with having their pictures taken by photographers. We felt that they were actively participating in the political spectacle of May Day by playing their role and posing so the media could broadcast their sensational images. In the end, when people were tired of waiting, fireworks and large firecrackers were thrown at journalists to push them back. After several unsuccessful attempts, the bloc charged them and thus finally managed to cross the bridge.

Once we reached the other riverbank, we found police forces and water cannons waiting on both sides. This created confusion in our ranks. For several more minutes, no one knew what to do or what we were waiting for. Would police forces try to split the procession and carry out an enormous mass arrest before the march even started? While the bloc paused again, indecisive about what to do next, the journalists recreated their line in front of us, taking more shots of the famous “black bloc” while preventing us from reaching the other group of demonstrators ahead of us.

Then things began to accelerate. Someone climbed a post and started to smash a city camera with a rock. As the journalists continued filming us unrelentingly, we were finally compelled to respond by smashing or spray painting every single camera in our path. It was time to put out the eyes of the state; in such a situation, rather than being neutral tools, cameras are connected directly to the apparatus of repression. Then the first advertisement billboards were smashed, along with some bus shelters. It seemed that we had finally found our pace.

We entered the boulevard de l’Hôpital, passing the Jardin des Plantes (a large public park) and the rue Buffon, where additional police units were already blocking the street, until we reached a McDonald’s. The storm broke. Activists took out all the front windows of the fast food restaurant while others enthusiastically decorated the walls. As the windows fell to the ground, others entered the restaurant, destroying and looting everything inside. At the end, someone threw a Molotov cocktail inside. Other activists extinguished the flames, as inhabitants living in flats above the restaurant started appearing at their windows. (As lundimatin put it, “Finesse was not the theme of the day.”)

From this point on, nearly every window display was smashed and every wall spray-painted. The march continued thus, destroying everything in its path, until it reached two car dealerships. Again, some activists ran to the front windows and shattered them. Others entered the premises of one car dealership, wrecking everything inside. Finally, they pulled two cars out onto the sidewalk and set them on fire.

On the other side of the street, not far past the Austerlitz train station, several activists were breaking down the barriers around a construction site. Behind the fencing, they found an excavator. This, too, was set on fire. As the flames consumed the machine, someone took the time to spray-paint “ZAD everywhere” on it. Whatever happens at Notre-Dame-des-Landes, the ZAD will survive! Perhaps not in its current form—as the process of normalization seems to leave fewer and fewer breaches open for experimentation—but its spirit continues to inspire us in other struggles, as this tribute action demonstrates.

At this point, we looked ahead and saw that we couldn’t go any further: police forces were waiting with anti-riot fences and water cannon trucks. They were blocking the route of the demonstration, probably to prevent us from reaching the district police station located a little further ahead on our right. At the same time, confrontations with police broke out at the construction site near the train station. It seemed that police were located inside or near the station, behind additional fences. Law enforcement units answered our projectiles with showers of tear gas canisters, which created a great degree of confusion. As reported by lundimatin:

“Then, we witnessed the most absurd scenes of the day. Dozens of activists in black threw hundreds of stones over the fences at an enemy that was completely out of reach. Others threw stones at a machine in flame, others at a McDonald’s that would no longer cause any harm to anyone. Actions that showed that the static but overwhelming and ubiquitous police presence was about to win, that is to say, to diffuse powerlessness. There was certainly a lot of will and determination during these events, but it ended being compressed in a restricted space where in reality frustration and fear prevailed.”

Little by little, the police trap was closing. While we were distracted by the confrontations near the construction site, the police lines blocking the boulevard ahead of us took the opportunity to move forward with their water cannon trucks, then filled the streets with tear gas. Our only option was to retreat. We were pushed back near the ruins of the McDonald’s. There, we were blocked between the thick clouds of tear gas, the closed fences of the park, and a disoriented and panicking crowd. Facing the jets of water cannons and uninterrupted showers of tear gas canisters, some of us tried to resist with Molotov cocktails and stones, but without any real success. As the intensity of confrontations escalated, people began to escape by climbing over the fences of the public park. Eventually, realizing that the increasing panic could lead to a potential tragedy, firemen decided to open the gates of the park. A breach was opened, and some of us took this opportunity to exit the confrontations. Shortly after, police units fanned out to attempt to arrest people inside the park.

Those who stayed on the boulevard de l’Hôpital continued retreating as the water cannons were now in full use. They ended up crossing the bridge we had departed from and then tried to start several actions by taking other routes. Some joined the march of the CGT, others went back to the bassin de l’Arsenal in order to bypass police lines and harass them. For the occasion, a huge barricade was built to slow the police while others were attacking another car dealership and several stores. Then, as police reinforcements arrived, activists dispersed into the nearby streets, only to gather again a bit further away to begin another spontaneous demonstration. Several Autolibs—electric car sharing vehicles owned by the Bolloré industrial group—were set on fire during the action. Later, the Place de la Bastille was occupied by police, who repeatedly tried to surround people in order to carry out additional arrests, while other small groups of activists were blocked in a nearby boulevard by other law enforcement units. The authorities cleared the entire square of any potential activists.

Once the afternoon demonstration was definitely over, people began to converge around a bar located at Place de la Contrescarpe, in the Latin Quarter, the same district where most of the confrontations of May 1968 had taken place half a century earlier. The main objective of this event was to gather people from different political horizons in order to meet, debate, and create new connections. Unfortunately, police forces were already on site when the first groups of people showed up at the square. As more and more people arrived, police left the square so people could occupy it, but not without stopping and controlling some groups that wanted to join the gathering. Clashes erupted, with police repeatedly beating and pepper-spraying the crowd. The rest of the night witnessed an ongoing cat-and-mouse game between activists and police forces, involving several reoccupations of the Place de la Contrescarpe.

During these events, several spontaneous demonstrations took place. In one case, activists succeeded in escaping police units by entering an already occupied building of the EHESS, the School of Advanced Studies in the Social Sciences. Fascists and neo-Nazis armed with gulf clubs were patrolling the Latin Quarter at the same time. They assaulted several activists who were on their way to the gathering, injuring at least one individual.

[alexbkrieger13]

No offense but same and jill are not starting players in this team. With P’s arrival both zad and stan play as a no 6.

So you have a midfield of P as the cam and zadi and stan as a pivot. Lohman plays at RM interchanging with linda. Buhl occupies at LM so honestly Obi is that player you get for depth and rotation. If zadi and stan get injured i rather have obi than kerr.

As much as people talk about hoarding world class players win you trophies not the other way round 😂.

you need a few of them always on the bench that you can sub in

[eddsworld-roleplay-madness]

Zamn this blog deader than I am. Thiz iz zo zad Alexa play dezpacito.

[zaddyazula]

wrap it up you two oh my days

[yukicustos]

Zad Glover ♦ They/Them Zad is inspired by the Archangel Zadkiel and my Rising in Virgo although their sign is Cancer. X-Playing Card: Maskup Make 

‘PLAY!!’ ♦ ACE OF DIAMONDS. UNIQUE. > They fulfills any desire within. As they wear the gloves it makes them attain the state to have whatever or be whoever they desire to.

The side effect of using the card is that their makeup shifts to a different style with new colors. If is a unshakable swordsman, their eyeshadow can turn gold with bright red lipstick. If it is an extraordinary shooter shades of red, purple and details in black in his cat eye. An elemental bender will have aspects of all elements: Orange glitter eyeshadow, blueish cat eye, brown lipstick with a white glow.

When there’s a hand where he uses two cards his hair will also change in color. The possibilities are infinite. As their makeup changes with the states. They have a daily makeup routine that exercises their imagination, so that the Card can be used with more proficiency. Making anchors with certain details on their Makeup it is easier to bring about in reality with his Card.

Appropriate our right of not giving a fuck. Floating, dreaming and possessing. Outwardly seraphic. Godly, appealing and boundless. Violet flames summoning in our rituals cleansing our shame. Forgiveness. No self-containing or censoring. The sharp blades of my insides. All that I create to remember. I am in command. Righteousness.

Inspired on the High Card Profiles!

[edens-notesfromthegarden]

v1/zadkiel (oc) || spicy

[oc uses he/they]

the first time zadkiel touched v1, it needed time to recover.

on a day like no other, they had approached it in minos' home. a hop in their step and a smile on their face, he told it how curious he was about its design, and asked if he'd be allowed to take a closer look.

while with most people, it wouldn't allow them such an intricate look at its body, zadkiel had been staying with itself, gabriel and the two prime souls for some time now. it simply shrugged and got comfortable, allowing zadkiel to satiate their curiosity.

were the angel's touches intimate on purpose or accident? v1 couldn't tell, fans straining at the need to maintain its composure as zad explored its body. they were slow but methodical, so gentle and delicate in their tracings as if it were glass. the words of praise and awe did nothing to calm it either.

"hardlight technology is such a wonderous advancement," zadkiel mused, a hand upon v1's wings. he smoothed down one of the lit wings, and v1 failed to hide the whirring of its fans as fingers dipped inside, being so intimately aware they were in. "such a marvelous tool for the transportation of goods... was their purpose always for storing such intriguing weaponry? or have you found other means for them?"

a gentle nod. it was hard to fit much else in the wings with its weapons, but when it had the chance, it would pick up small trinkets and knick-knacks whilst exploring hell.

those hands were now further down, tracing the seams between metal plating. its fists were beginning to clench; an act to try and distract itself from how it felt. the hands danced on its hips, tracing the tubes that carried blood across its systems.

"such small tubes," zadkiel whispered. v1 could feel the warmth of the angel's face near its hip. "and yet... they do so much... they work so hard every day to keep such a wonderous machine running."

zadkiel's finger accidentally tugged on a few wires, caught in the seams. v1 jolted completely upright, wings flaring as it scrambled out of zadkiel's hold. the angel simply sat there, mildly surprised.

"ah, i'm so sorry, v!'' zadkiel was quick to apologise, "my fingers got caught, i hope i didn't hurt you at all!"

v1 was too flustered to admit that zadkiel had done the exact opposite, that it wanted him to dig his fingers further into its body. they signed that they had to go refuel in a quick manner, and practically bolted out of the room they were sat in, much to the calling of its name.

-----

it was later in the day now. zadkiel had found gabriel to lament over what had happened with v1.

"... and then i accidentally got my fingers caught in its wiring, and it ran on me! oh, i feel so bad, gabe!"

gabriel blinked for a few moments, before laughing. "zad, you don't realise what you actually did, do you?"

zadkiel paused his pacing.

gabriel paused to take a sip of his tea. "gods, that explains why v1 looked so flustered today. it practically begged me to help it out after what you did."

"wait, flustered? what do you-"

zadkiel's eyes went wide.

"oh."

gabriel chuckled watching zadkiel's expression shift into a fiendish grin. "oh boy, i recognise that smile. you're plotting."

"oh, whatever do you mean, dear gabby?" zadkiel crooned, hands clasping together. "no, little old me planning? with what you told me? no, definitely not!"

the taller angel let out a sigh. "just don't tease it for too long! i know from personal experience it can give twice as hard as it takes."

"and you know from personal experience that i don't break."

-----

for days, they committed to this dance: zad would get close to v1, they would touch it, and then it would run off looking for one of the other three in the house. minos and sisyphus had been informed of zadkiel's antics, so they were now playing along just as much as gabriel was.

fluster turned to frustration. v1 quickly realised that if those touches weren't purposeful the first time, they sure were now.

today, they come across one another in the library. that same chipper smile, that same hop in their step. they crouched down where v1 had been scanning through a history book, reading along with it for a few moments before finally making a move.

that hand smoothed up v1's wingpack, so slow and gentle, and that's when v1 finally snapped.

the book is shoved aside in its sudden movement, swivelling around and pinning that hand down on the floor with the knucklebuster. they laid there in silence, zadkiel only blinking as he watched v1's body shift, mimicking deep breathing.

"gosh, is everything alright, v1?" zadkiel asked, playing innocent.

"STOP TEASING ME." it signed.

"me? teasing?" zadkiel let out a laugh, "my apologies, v! i was only ever... curious."

from the way zadkiel's other hand traced down its chassis, it just knew they were bullshitting it. that hand quickly joined their other with the help of the whiplash, v1's optic now squinting at the angel beneath it.

"okay fine, maybe i was teasing you a little," zadkiel admitted. "but i promise that didn't start until after that first session!"

from underneath it, a leg snuck out from under v1 and hooked around its hip, pulling it closer.

"i have meant every word i've said though, v," the angel added quietly, "i think you're a marvellous machine... capable of so many wonderful things..."

for a moment, the only noise in the room was the heightened noise of v1's whirring fans. then a clicking noise, followed by hissing as a panel slid open and something pressurised against zadkiel's thigh. the angel let out a little gasp upon noticing the glowing member pressed against them.

"oh my, what a pretty looking thing you have there," they praised. "is that for me?"

"YES. PLEASE. CAN I?"

zadkiel laughed again. v1 felt one of their hands wiggle in its grasp, followed by metal tapping against the floor twice (the staff he always had, it realised), before zadkiel's pants de-manifested themselves, leaving his lower half naked. it stared at the folds that adorned the apex of zadkiel's thighs, before looking back up at the angel's face.

"well, what are you waiting for, v?"

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[nettlesandrowan]

A huge amount of resources have been spent to make it impossible for us to imagine a world free of capitalism, free of heirarchy, free of the institutions that originated in colonialism. As such, the only kind of imaginary that is articulated and practiced in dominant society is that of the technocratic engineer drafting blueprints onto a passive territory.

One of the most potent weapons against such interventionalism is situated imagining, looking at the world around us, tracing the relations we have and could have, listening to their needs, and giving those needs free rein to develop, too see what directions they pull us in.

'The Solutions Are Already Here' - Peter Gelderloos (p.173, 'A Truly Different Future')

As David Graeber says in his 'The Dawn of Everything', the ability to understand society and to play with its rules and structures and definitions was essential to pre-colonial egalitarianism (in the sense of social equality). To overcome our current environmental struggles, we must abandon the ideals imposed by cultural hegemony. We cannot accomplish what we cannot imagine.

Stories of resistance (like the ZAD in France, Sámi blockades, Dayak Tomum resistance and more) constitute proposals for resistance with immediate relevance whilst also suggesting a horizon. Understanding the path to that horizon, the people and institutions blocking it, the traumas and social relations that need to be healed and transformed, is essential for change.

Anyway, this is just to say I would recommend reading Gederloos' book for a more nuanced understanding of environmental justice, removed from government promises about Green New Deals and alternative energies.

[candyswirls]

*Baby Pink by Moe Shop is playing*

Cue montage of Garm sneaking onto ships with a bag of snacks, running through various halls, and finding her target

@moociaoafterdark they tried to take a rib and had eaten some green beans beforehand

@nereidof40k twice bitten and twice he saw that she had sweet potatoes earlier

@jaghatai-khock right on the noggin for Zad <3

"Thank you for your business at Garm's Biting Stand. As per the client agreement, if any chaplains or upset people come to inquire about who placed a hit on them, it will be kept confidential.

Please leave me a positive review and a cookie in the drop box. I would very much appreciate it.

If you have a complaint, please speak to my legal team; my dad and his bolter.

Garm's Biting Stand is not liable for any wounds, nausea, slips, or being a pouty baby because you got bit by a toddler. I'm just the best.

Garm's Biting Stand can be found in random strategium decks or on my ship, the Fang."

Love, kisses, and growls - Garm Russ, with help from Afi Grimnar

A little stand has opened up on the Strategium deck!

Garm has opened a lemonade biting stand. They're saving up for a power axe!

For just 30 Aquila coins, she will bite anyone of your choice. Unless they're on the no bite list.

For an additional 40 Aquilas, they will also throw up on your person of choice!

Client confidentiality is guaranteed! No refunds.

She's very excited about her new business.