#Oracle Scriptures

[hidden-oracle]

Having a Crush

Having a crush is one of mine series of scenarios for the fandoms I write!

Avoident Love

Everyone knew Sakura had a crush on you, if his thousand degree blush wasn't a give away. His strange avoidance of you was, whenever you enter a room he was in. He would turn away trying his best to hide his ever growing feelings for you. If he could he would also exit the room, not wanting to face his own feelings.

He doesn't want you to know of them out of the possibility of you rejecting him. Even though that is the most unlikely of possibilities, the fear of it scares Sakura off.

Slipped Mask

No one knows for sure if he has a crush on you but himself, he acts like his normal self around you. He teases you like he does everyone else so there isn't a reason for anyone to suspect him to have a crush on you.

Except the one time the mask slipped, it was on accident that it did but it did non the less. His eye twitched when someone said that your outfit was cute. There is a note on Suo's page of Nirei's notebook that he may have a crush on you

Note Taking

Majority of Nirei's notes about you are sprinkled with writing about how you look cute or beautiful or wonderful doing certain things. His attempts to hide these notes doesn't go unnoticed by anyone he shows his notebook to. He does snatch the book away or covers the page if people flip to it or they attempt to look at it. But as time went on and people put the pieces of what is on those pages, people figured out he has a crush on you.

[dreadbornesaint]

tag dump - verses

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤHER ANGELㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Genderbend au – Cassian Cain x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : How Would He Be When He's Obsessed?

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

It starts with stillness.

You didn’t notice him at first—because he didn’t want to be noticed. Cassian doesn’t speak, doesn’t make a sound. But he watches.

You were kind. Not loud. Not a threat. That’s what first made him pause. People are noise to him, always broadcasting their intent with every heartbeat and twitch. But you? You didn’t broadcast danger. You didn’t make yourself bigger. You were quiet in a way that didn’t mean violence.

So, he lingered.

He’s not supposed to get attached.

Batman said so. Oracle said so. They all said so. Cassian nods when they speak, but he doesn’t follow unless it feels right in his bones.

And you feel right.

He starts following you when he’s off patrol. Silently. No footsteps. He memorizes your routine like it’s a mission. When you laugh, he flinches. When you cry, his hands clench. He doesn’t understand either, but he feels it. He doesn’t know if it’s protectiveness or something else. But it burns.

He watches more than he should.

Through windows. Across rooftops. In your shadow like he belongs there. You never feel unsafe—because he never lets you. Any time danger comes close, it’s gone before you even notice. A man following you home? He disappears. A mugger across the street? Out cold in the alley.

You start to joke with your friends. “It’s like I’ve got a guardian angel.”

Cassian hears that. He feels that. His heart does something strange and awful and warm.

He starts leaving things for you. A lost scarf. A fixed bike chain. A cup of tea from your favorite shop on a cold morning. He watches your eyes light up. You smile. You whisper, “Thank you.”

He mouths it back, even though you can’t see him.

“...Welcome.”

He doesn’t know what to call it.

He doesn’t understand what this is. But every move you make is written on your body, and he reads it like scripture. You’re beautiful, but not in the way people usually mean. You’re good. You’re real. You walk like someone who carries her own pain and doesn’t let it harden her.

Cassian is soft around you in a way he’s never been. He wants to be near. Wants to be allowed to be near. He doesn’t know how to ask.

So he stares.

You catch him one day. Rooftop. Rain. His black suit blending into the night like he’s part of it. But he doesn’t leave. He lets you see him. For the first time. You stare at each other for a long time. You don’t run. You don’t scream. You step forward.

And Cassian... he doesn’t move. He doesn’t breathe. You speak—soft, confused, kind.

“Are you the one watching me?”

He nods. Once. Like a silent prayer.

You should be scared. But you aren’t.

After that, he’s around more.

Not close. Not yet. But close enough that you could talk if you wanted. And you do. You start talking to him, even when he doesn’t answer. You tell him about your day. About your cat. Your classes. Your fears. Your hopes. He listens like it’s sacred.

And slowly... very slowly... he starts to answer. With signs. With the barest movements. A tilt of the head. A hand lifted in answer. One night, he writes something in the dust on your windowsill.

“SAFE?”

You nod.

He taps his chest. Then yours. Then nods.

“Safe.”

Cassian doesn’t sleep. Not really.

But when he does, he dreams of you. Not in a twisted way. Not violent. Just with you. Holding your hand. Sitting beside you. He dreams about what it might be like to speak—to tell you what you mean.

He wants to be close, but he doesn’t understand how. You smell sweet. Like flowers. But he’s scared he’ll ruin that. That the same hands that kill could never touch you without staining you.

He loves you. But he doesn’t know that’s what it is. It feels like need. Like obsession. But tender. Careful.

He’s learning.

Eventually, he touches your hand.

It takes months. Maybe a year. But one day, after you patch up a cut on his arm in silence, he just... touches your hand. Light. Hesitant. And you don’t pull away.

You say, “I missed you.”

He doesn’t say anything. But his eyes are glassy. His lip trembles.

He doesn’t talk. But if he could, he’d scream I miss you even when I’m right here. I want to be near you forever. I want to be your shadow. I want to be enough for you to love me back.

Instead, he leans his forehead against your shoulder.

And you hold him.

Cassian is obsessed.

Not in a way that hurts you. In a way that worships. In a way that learns. He doesn’t know what a boyfriend is. What a partner is. What love is. But he learns for you. Slowly. Clumsily. Lovingly.

Because even though he’s been trained to kill, to move in silence, to never ask for anything—he wants you.

And when you kiss his forehead for the first time?

He cries.

Silent. Still.

But he cries.

It begins, as always, in silence.

He is on your balcony again—half in shadow, half soaked in moonlight. The wind plays with the hem of his black cloak, but his body is still. That same tilt of the head when he watches you like you’re the only thing in the world that makes sense.

You never flinch anymore.

You don’t look surprised.

You open the window like it’s the most normal thing in the world and smile.

“Hey, angel,” you whisper.

And God—if he had a heart that worked like anyone else’s, it might stop.

He doesn’t understand why you call him that.

He doesn’t look like an angel. He’s bloodied most nights. His knuckles are bruised, dried cuts line his jaw. His hands, no matter how much he washes them, remember violence. Remember pain.

But when you say it—“angel”—your eyes go soft. Your smile goes tender.

“Mine,” you sometimes say, brushing back a strand of his hair. “My shadow. My angel.”

And he leans into your touch like it’s air, like it’s light, like it’s grace.

He still doesn’t talk. You’ve stopped expecting him to. You’ve learned his silence has weight, has texture. It’s how he tells you things.

Sometimes, he brings gifts. Not flowers or chocolates—he wouldn’t even know where to buy them. No, he brings you buttons. Trinkets. A ribbon from someone who bothered you. A feather from a rare bird. A kitten once, curled in his coat, half-dead. You cried when you held it. He just stared at you the whole time.

The kitten sleeps in your bed now. You named her Moon.

You whispered, “She’s like you. Quiet. Soft when she wants to be. But deadly.”

Cassian tilted his head. Then nodded.

He doesn’t know what school is.

You were talking once—rambling about your day while cleaning his cuts, your voice low and casual.

“Class was boring today,” you said, wiping at the gash on his shoulder. “Professor wouldn't stop talking about stupid wars—like, who cares how Napoleon died?”

You expected the usual blank silence.

Instead, he looked at you. Blinked.

Then lifted one hand. Tilted it side to side. Question.

“What?” you asked, laughing. “You don’t know who Napoleon is?”

He tilted his head again. Shrugged.

“Wait… Do you know what school is?”

Nothing. No reaction.

You stopped everything. Looked him in the eyes. “…do you know how to read?”

He looked down. Then slowly, pulled something from his belt. A folded, dirty slip of paper. It had a single word written in his jagged, childlike handwriting.

SAFE.

Your chest ached. You looked at him and saw not a vigilante, not a ghost in the night, not even a weapon.

You saw a boy.

Someone who’d never been given a childhood.

Someone who knew how to kill but not how to write his name.

You touched his hand, gentle. Like always.

“Do you want me to teach you?”

He blinked. Then nodded. Not once. Not sharp.

Slow. Like the word mattered. Like you mattered.

You start with his palm.

You don’t use pens or paper at first. No pressure. No rules. Just touch.

You trace letters into his skin with your fingertip. His hand twitches every time. He’s not used to gentleness lasting this long.

“This is A,” you whisper, dragging your finger down, then across. “Now B…”

He watches your lips when you speak. Like they hold truth.

Like he can taste knowledge just by watching you.

You guide his hand next. Hold his finger. Drag it across your open palm to form shaky letters.

He frowns when he messes up. You kiss his brow and say, “It’s okay. Try again.”

You’ve never seen him so focused. Not even in a fight.

You make flashcards next.

Simple words. Safe. Home. Name. Yours. Mine.

He stares at “Mine” for a long time.

He taps it. Then points at himself. Then at you. Then signs you with the softest hand against his heart.

Your breath catches.

He mouths something. It’s silent. You can’t hear it. But you know.

Mine.

You don’t correct him.

Your balcony becomes a classroom.

Every night, you sit with your legs crossed, flashcards in hand, and he crouches next to you like a child soaking up your light. You tell him stories—your childhood, your friends, what your teachers are like, how you used to be scared of the dark until now.

“Not anymore,” you murmur, glancing at him. “Because now I have you.”

He doesn’t smile. But he closes his eyes like your words are warmth.

One night, you wake up and find something under your pillow. A folded paper. On it, in shaky writing:

“You = Safe”

“Me = Angel”

“Mine”

You keep it in your diary.

You still haven’t kissed him. You don’t touch him unless he touches you first. You don’t ask him to stay, but you never ask him to leave. He’s not your boyfriend. He wouldn’t understand the word. But you’ve never felt more seen.

He’s learning. And every time he writes something new, he brings it to you like a child bringing a drawing to their favorite person in the world. And every time, you say the same thing:

“Perfect.”

Because to you, he is.

Cassian doesn’t understand the world.

But he understands you.

And that’s all he’s ever needed.

To watch you, to learn you, to protect you like something sacred.

He may never say it aloud.

But every step he takes, every breath he draws near you, every clumsy letter he writes in your palm—

Whispers it.

I am yours.

It happens slowly. Like dusk bleeding into night.

No lightning moment. No dramatic turning point.

Just quiet devotion blooming into something deeper.

Cassian is still silent. Still follows you in the shadows like your personal moon. Still crouches on your balcony, waiting for a look, a touch, a word from you to exist again.

But something’s shifted. You feel it.

Maybe it’s in the way he lingers longer now. Or how he watches your lips not just to learn—but to memorize. Maybe it’s in the way he holds onto every scrap of paper you write on, like holy relics, like prayers.

He started sleeping curled up by your window once. You found him there at 3AM, arm wrapped around the kitten. Shirt torn. Blood dried on his cheek.

You ran to him. He didn’t flinch.

He opened his eyes—and smiled.

Just barely. Just for you.

He starts practicing. Alone.

You don’t know this. He never tells you. But when you sleep, he stays near your fire escape. He stares at the flashcards you gave him, mouthing the letters, the words, again and again. His lips shape your name in the dark—like a secret prayer, like the answer to every question he’s never asked.

You = Safe.

You = Light.

You = Home.

One day, you catch him trying to write a sentence.

You don’t laugh. You don’t mock the messy letters or the misspelled words. You sit down next to him, and smile softly, like you always do.

You help him fix it. Guide his hand, one slow letter at a time.

By the end, it says:

“You are my safe.”

He stares at the page like it’s magic. Like he made something beautiful and didn’t know he could.

Your hands cradle his face. Your thumbs brush his cheeks.

“You’re learning so fast,” you whisper. “I’m so proud of you.”

His breath catches.

He wants to say something.

It rises in his throat like a scream he’s buried for years.

But nothing comes.

Not yet.

It happens on a rainy evening.

You were pacing, talking fast about something that upset you. School stress, maybe. A rude stranger. The weight of being alive that day.

Cassian stood by your window, watching. Silent. Still. But tense.

He didn’t know how to help. He only knew how to fight.

You noticed. You stopped.

“I’m okay,” you said softly, walking up to him. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you have to fix it. Just you being here… It helps.”

You reached up, brushing back his hair with your fingers.

“My angel.”

That word again. Yours, not his.

But he wanted it.

He wanted it to be his word, too.

You turned away. He didn’t move.

Then—quietly—barely a whisper:

“…Y/N.”

You froze.

The word was broken. Heavy. Like glass under bare feet.

But it was real.

You turned.

He looked terrified. Like he’d done something wrong.

You smiled. Your eyes filled with tears.

You walked back to him slowly, hands trembling as you reached up and cupped his cheeks.

“Say it again,” you breathed.

His lips parted.

He hesitated.

Then—

“…Y/N.”

And this time, it wasn’t about the word.

It was about you.

You kissed him.

Soft. Gentle. Like a secret between only you and the night.

His hands hovered in the air before settling on your waist. He didn’t press. Didn’t move.

He just held you.

Like that was the miracle.

That night, you taught him a new word.

"Love."

He traced it in your palm again and again.

And when you fell asleep curled in his arms, he whispered it once. Into your hair. Into the quiet.

“…Love.”

He may not understand the world.

But he understands you.

And now—

He’s learning how to say it.

You still don’t know his name.

You never ask.

Not because you’re not curious—

But because you know he doesn’t know how to give it.

He doesn’t know what names are supposed to mean. He wasn’t given one with love. His name was forged in fists, shaped in silence, beaten into bone. It's not a name he wears—it’s a weight.

And yet—

He says your name like it’s sacred.

Like it’s the only sound in the universe he wants in his mouth.

Sometimes whispered into your pillow when you’re not looking.

Sometimes scrawled onto paper over and over again in shaky letters.

You find them.

Little scraps folded in your books, tucked in your drawers:

Just your name.

Written with devotion.

Childlike. Obsessive. Sweet.

You call him angel, still.

Sometimes shadow. Sometimes pretty boy in a half-teasing tone that always makes his ears pink.

One day, you ask him softly, brushing your lips across his cheek:

“…What do I call you?”

He tilts his head. Blinks slowly. Thinks hard. Like the question is in another language.

You try again.

“Do you have a name?”

His brows furrow. He shrinks a little—just a little.

You cup his cheek and whisper, “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”

But then, one night, wrapped in your sheets, skin pressed to yours, after you taught him how to touch—

He gives it to you.

Not because you asked.

Because he wanted to.

Because for the first time in his life, it felt safe.

“…Cassian.”

Your breath catches.

“Cassian,” you repeat, voice warm. “That’s beautiful.”

He looks away.

“Just like everything else about you.”

And he doesn’t say anything—but his fingers curl around your wrist and his lips press to your neck, and you know he’s trying to say thank you without words.

He doesn’t know how to kiss properly.

The first time he tried to kiss you, he just pressed his forehead to yours, trembling, lost. You smiled, took his face in your hands, and showed him. Patient. Gentle. Lips brushing lips like butterfly wings. Again. And again.

He’s a fast learner.

And he’s hungry.

Not lustful—devoted. Starving to worship. To memorize every sound you make. He touches like you're a secret language he was born to learn.

Teaching him gets intimate.

You write words on his chest with your finger.

Safe. Love. You.

He trembles when your nails drag down his ribs.

You take his hand and guide it along your thigh, your collarbone, whispering body parts like vocabulary.

He mouths them in return—quietly, obediently.

“Shoulder.”

“Neck.”

“Hip.”

“…Y/N.”

“No, Cassian,” you giggle softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “That’s me, not a body part.”

He just stares, wide-eyed. Then kisses your shoulder in apology.

He worships you.

It’s in how he kneels between your thighs like you’re holy.

How he tugs your shirt up just to rest his cheek on your stomach.

How he breathes you in. Touches you like you’ll disappear.

He never wants to go further unless you guide him.

You do.

Slowly.

You teach him how to make love like you taught him how to speak—

With your hands. Your eyes. Your patience.

He follows every breath. Every arch. Every sound.

He writes love on your back in kisses.

One night, after, he lays there in silence, watching your fingers trace letters onto his palm again.

He mouths them carefully:

“B-e-l-o-n-g.”

And then, looking straight into your eyes—

He spells the last word:

“T-o Y-o-u.”

And you smile, pulling him close, your lips brushing his ear as you whisper:

“Yes, Angel. Always.”

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[thediormulan]

PICK A CARD:

HOW DOES YOUR NEXT PARTNER SEE YOU ONLINE?

There are 4 velvet-drenched piles, each holding a soul-watching prophecy. They don’t just watch your stories—they surrender to them. They don’t just save your posts—they pray to them. This isn’t about social media—it’s about digital spellwork. And baby, you’re the algorithm that changed their body chemistry. Swipe slow. Choose the pile that watches you back. 🩶 There are four—but only one carries the fantasy they won’t admit they’ve had. And if your spirit is aching for a more personal prophecy, book your 1:1 Velvet Offering with me. Let me read the posts you haven’t published yet. Let me show you who’s really watching—and why.

PILE ONE:The Screenshot They Never Deleted

“You didn’t post for them, but their soul still recognized the spell.”

Card Spread:

• Two of Moons (Upright)

• The Dreamer’s Drum (Upright)

• The Mirror Priestess (Upright)

• Six of Wands (Upright)

• The Prophet’s Thread (Upright)

• Knight of Oceans (Upright)

• Queen of Dust (Upright)

• Knight of Ashes (Reversed)

• The Healer’s Path (Upright)

• The North Node (Upright)

Channeling:

They see that one post—the mirror selfie, the soft caption, the silence underneath it—and it undoes them. They save it. Zoom in. Revisit it at 2:47 a.m. when they can’t sleep. It’s not about thirst—it’s about memory. Recognition. You look like someone they’ve loved in another life. And while you were just expressing yourself, they felt like you were opening the door directly to them.

They don’t just see you as attractive. They see you as arrived. They admire your softness, your strength, your digital stillness. They fantasize about what it would feel like to be the one behind the lens—seeing you in that moment, not the public. The Six of Wands says they want to claim you publicly, but the Knight of Ashes reversed reveals a deep inner restraint. They’re watching, aching, but not quite ready to reveal themselves. Yet.

Angel Number: 661

Song Download: “Tears Dry On Their Own” – Amy Winehouse

Confirmation Letters: M, R, S, A, P

From Your Higher Self:

You didn’t need to prove anything in that post—but it spoke a prophecy only the right eyes could read.

From the Universe:

Someone is dreaming about the version of you you didn’t even mean to reveal. Trust the timeline.

Drop a mirror emoji 🪞 if there’s a photo of you that felt like a love letter to the future.

PILE TWO:The Fantasy Behind the Story View

“They don’t watch for updates—they watch to imagine undoing you.”

Card Spread:

• Page of Eyes (Upright)

• The Healer’s Path (Upright)

• The Oracle of Lightless Flame (Reversed)

• Ten of Rivers (Reversed)

• Four of Echoes (Reversed)

• The North Node (Upright)

• Knight of Oceans (Upright)

• The Dreamer’s Drum (Upright)

• The Veilwalker (Upright)

• Eight of Mirrors (Upright)

Channeling:

Every time you post on your story, it’s like they get pulled into a portal. Even when it’s mundane. Even when you’re not showing skin. Your energy is intoxicating. Page of Eyes says they don’t just view—they listen, they fantasize, they wonder what you smell like when you laugh. They read your captions like scripture, searching for coded messages that were never meant for them—but feel like they were.

The Veilwalker says this connection is psychic. When you feel the urge to post something specific, that’s their energy pulling on yours. They think about touching you in the scenes you show—the bedspread, the lip gloss, the angle of your hand in the sunlight. And with Four of Echoes reversed, their fantasy is tied to emotional intimacy. They don’t just want to take you out. They want to come inside your world.

Angel Number: 1122

Song Download: “Ghostin” – Ariana Grande

Confirmation Letters: L, K, V, T, N

From Your Higher Self:

You are being perceived through more than just pixels. Their fantasies aren’t just carnal—they’re karmic.

From the Universe:

They watch because they feel something they don’t yet have the language to name. You are the plot twist in their algorithm.

Drop a fire emoji 🔥 or a ghost emoji 👻 if you’ve ever felt someone watching you without knowing why.

PILE THREE: The Scroll They Regret Every Time

“They went looking for you—and found something they weren’t ready to feel.”

Card Spread:

• Ten of Rivers (Reversed)

• The House of Mirrors (Reversed)

• The North Node (Upright)

• Knight of Ashes (Reversed)

• Page of Eyes (Upright)

• The Worldbreaker (Upright)

• Four of Echoes (Reversed)

• The Velvet Oracle (Upright)

• The Healer’s Path (Upright)

• The Cosmic Flame (Upright)

Channeling:

They didn’t mean to go that deep into your profile. But they did. And now? They’re haunted. The Worldbreaker + Velvet Oracle combo means your content shattered something in them. Maybe it was a smile, a throwaway caption, a vulnerable moment—you cracked open their fantasy and made it real.

The House of Mirrors reversed says you reflect what they avoid. And that makes them come back again. Your presence online makes them question who they’re becoming, who they’ve dated, and what they really want. Their after-scroll behavior? Obsessive but quiet. They check your likes. They reread the comment you left someone else. They imagine texting you—then delete it. They’re not just lurking. They’re longing.

Angel Number: 929

Song Download: “Like Real People Do” – Hozier

Confirmation Letters: Z, G, F, C, Y

From Your Higher Self:

Your presence activates transformation. Don’t downplay what your softness does to people’s shadows.

From the Universe:

They found you online, but what they’re really looking for is a way to reach your heart.

If you’ve ever made someone spiral just by being yourself online, drop a spiral emoji 🌀 or a flame 🔥.

PILE FOUR:The Algorithm of Desire

“They don’t scroll past you—they spiral through you.”

Card Spread:

• The House of Mirrors (Reversed)

• The Rune of Reunion (Upright)

• The Healer’s Path (Upright)

• Pluto Reborn (Reversed)

• The Prophet’s Thread (Upright)

• Four of Echoes (Reversed)

• Queen of Dust (Upright)

• The Mirror Priestess (Upright)

• The Ancestor’s Gate (Upright)

• Seven of Masks (Reversed)

Channeling:

This person wasn’t supposed to find you—or so they thought. But their algorithm led them to you over and over, until they had to click. And once they did? It was over. The Prophet’s Thread confirms: your digital presence is a thread from a past life, tugging them into remembrance. You don’t look like someone they just want. You look like someone their ancestors are begging them not to fumble.

Seven of Masks reversed + Queen of Dust = you show up online real, raw, uncurated—and that undoes them. The Mirror Priestess says your online image holds spellwork. Your photo dump from last Tuesday? It’s a ritual. A pull. A portal. And every time they revisit it, their desire deepens—not just for your body, but for your frequency.

Angel Number: 1001

Song Download: “Trip” – Ella Mai

Confirmation Letters: A, H, D, X, E

From Your Higher Self:

What you post is not random. Your aura speaks through pixels, and their soul is listening.

From the Universe:

You didn’t need a thirst trap. You are the trap.

Drop a heart eye emoji 😍 or a magnet 🧲 if you know your digital presence hits harder than you let on.

You thought you were just posting.

But you’ve been casting—caption by caption.

They want to kiss the shadow of your last photo.

They want to live inside your playlist.

And now? They want to be the reason your followers drop.

If a pile spoke to your soul or made you squirm—drop the emoji that feels like being watched.

🪞👁🫦🔥

And if you’re ready to stop wondering and start knowing—

book your 1:1 Velvet Offering with me.

Let’s decode the digital prophecy of your love life—and leave them spiritually speechless.

Channeled by Dior Harris.

Stay infinite. Stay divine. Stay velvet.

À bientôt, mon ange.

[hrrtshape]

⠀ ⠀welcome to the manifesting seance club.

sit down. no, seriously, sit. the spirits are pacing. the stars are staring. you’re being perceived in real time.

AHEM. before we begin, a moment of academic showboating: the knowledge i am about to graciously, magnanimously, almost divinely bestow upon you has been extracted from sources so reputable, so critically esteemed, that to ignore them would be akin to walking past the oracle at delphi and asking a guy named kevin for directions instead. sources such as . . . ୨୧

" esoteric astrology " by alice a. bailey " the astrology of fate " by liz greene " saturn : a new look at an old devil " by liz greene " hellenistic astrology : the study of fate and fortune " by chris brennan

all of which are required reading if you want to, you know, actually know things. otherwise, feel free to just wing it. people have built entire careers off of significantly less.

anyway, welcome to manifesting séance club. which is to say, a completely necessary and not at all ridiculous initiative in which i, with the help of the cosmos, will deign to tell you exactly how you should be manifesting based on your zodiac sign. you can take this with the weight of divine scripture, or you can take it with a large, gratuitous grain of salt and see this as entertainment only. either way, the planets have spoken.

 　　. . . now, let’s see what they say about you

⠀⠀ ✶ ⠀⠀ 𝐚ries⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

omen : aries manifests like they’re storming the beaches of normandy. it’s not a process, it’s an ambush. every morning, a new battle plan scrawled on a napkin, ripped in half by noon. immediate results or nothing at all. there’s no patience for the slow drip of reality conforming to their will. they want tectonic shifts, they want fireworks, they want god himself to clock in some overtime.

fate’s verdict : cosmic tantrum. they don’t wait for the stars to align, they drag them into formation. but the universe prefers the long game, and aries does not. the lesson here is simple . . . it will happen, but not in the way you’re trying to force it. stop manifesting like you’re throwing grenades into the void.

⠀꒰ prescription : let go. just a little. just enough to let the universe breathe. ⠀manifestation is not a hostage situation.

⠀⠀ ✶ ⠀⠀ 𝐭aurus⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

omen : taurus manifests like an investment banker, a landowner, a careful deity counting their coins before distributing miracles. they do not believe in asking the universe for favours without putting down collateral, vision boards, rituals, journals so thick they could stop a bullet. the future is built in increments, brick by brick. manifestation as empire-building.

fate’s verdict : a little too grounded, a little too rational. taurus sometimes mistakes manifestation for a to-do list rather than an act of faith. this is the hill they will die on, ledger in hand.

⠀꒰ prescription : loosen the grip. manifestation isn’t a contract, you don’t need a ⠀cosigner. ask. then trust that it’s being worked out somewhere beyond your ⠀jurisdiction.

⠀⠀ ✶ ⠀⠀ 𝐠emini⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

omen : gemini manifests like a conspiracy theorist with a corkboard full of red string. everything is possible, every reality is within reach. they could be a doctor, a poet, a movie star, a revolutionary, sometimes all in the same afternoon. the problem is the sheer velocity of belief. one day they’re visualising love, the next they’ve decided celibacy is the key to enlightenment. their manifestations lack consistency, collapsing under their own contradictions.

fate’s verdict : too many tabs open. gemini’s mind is a quantum superposition of possibilities, but the universe prefers clarity. pick a lane. stay in it.

⠀꒰ prescription : write it down. once. no revisions. stick to it for longer than a week.

⠀⠀ ✶ ⠀⠀ 𝐜ancer⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

omen : cancer manifests like a poet in a garret, talking into the dark, hoping the cosmos is listening. emotions are the currency, nostalgia the driving force. manifestation as longing. as a half-forgotten song. they dream in sepia tones, in candlelight and old film reels. they don’t just want something, they want to be consumed by it.

fate’s verdict : beautiful. but manifestation is an act of creation, not just yearning alone.

⠀꒰ prescription : clarify the vision. make it real, tangible, specific. want, but also ⠀act.

⠀⠀ ✶ ⠀⠀ 𝐥eo⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

omen : leo manifests like a celebrity giving an acceptance speech before the award has even been announced. they assume the universe is their audience, their stage, their greatest admirer. naturally, their manifestations are grand, cinematic, dripping with self-belief. they don’t request, they declare. they don’t doubt, they expect.

fate’s verdict : they’re not wrong, but sometimes they rely too much on the applause. the universe doesn’t care about the optics, it cares about the energy behind them. manifestation is not performance art.

⠀꒰ prescription : make sure you want it for you. not for the audience, not for the ⠀applause, not for the standing ovation. just for you.

⠀⠀ ✶ ⠀⠀ 𝐯irgo⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

omen : virgo manifests like an engineer drafting blueprints for god. meticulous, precise, airtight. a plan within a plan within a plan. they don’t just manifest . . . they optimise. they find flaws in their own dreams before they’ve even begun, tweaking and adjusting, searching for perfection before the universe even has a chance to deliver.

fate’s verdict : manifestation requires some degree of surrender. virgo’s approach is admirable, but they risk micromanaging the cosmos. control is an illusion. perfection is a myth.

⠀꒰ prescription : stop editing the vision. let it breathe. let it live.

⠀⠀ ✶ ⠀⠀ 𝐥ibra⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

omen : libra manifests like an artist with too many unfinished canvases. they want everything, in all its beauty, but they can never quite decide what to ask for. they spend more time weighing options than actually committing to a vision. manifestation as a game of what-if.

fate’s verdict : indecision is the enemy. the universe responds to clarity, not hesitation. a wish half-made is a wish unheard.

⠀꒰ prescription : pick something. anything. stick to it. see it through.

⠀⠀ ✶ ⠀⠀ 𝐬corpio⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

omen : scorpio manifests like a sorcerer muttering in a locked room, like an old god stirring in its sleep. manifestation as alchemy. as transformation. their will is absolute, their focus terrifying. they do not just ask for what they want, they become it.

fate’s verdict : powerful, but isolating. scorpio sometimes forgets that manifestation doesn’t have to be a solitary act, that the universe is not an adversary but an accomplice.

⠀꒰ prescription : soften. let it in. manifestation is not a lone pursuit.

⠀⠀ ✶ ⠀⠀ 𝐬agittarius⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

omen : sagittarius manifests like an explorer mapping out an undiscovered country. they see possibility everywhere, in every corner of the universe. their manifestations are broad, open-ended, half-prayers, half-dares. they don’t demand, they leap.

fate’s verdict : good energy, unfocused. sagittarius needs to narrow the scope, sharpen the vision.

⠀꒰ prescription : be specific. manifestation is not a vague wish upon a star.

⠀⠀ ✶ ⠀⠀ 𝐜apricorn⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

omen : capricorn manifests like an architect designing a cathedral that will take centuries to complete. slow, steady, methodical. they don’t just wish; they work. they lay foundations while others are still drafting dreams.

fate’s verdict : excellent, but exhausting. capricorn sometimes forgets that manifestation is not solely an act of labour. effort is crucial, but so is belief.

⠀꒰ prescription : trust. allow for miracles. not everything requires blood, sweat, and ⠀spreadsheets.

⠀⠀ ✶ ⠀⠀ 𝐚quarius⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

omen : aquarius manifests like a mad scientist in a laboratory of their own making. their visions are radical, their ideas borderless. they do not want what others want. their manifestations often seem impossible until, suddenly, they’re not.

fate’s verdict : brilliant, but scattered. aquarius has a habit of overcomplicating what should be simple. manifestation is not always a revolution.

⠀꒰ prescription : simplify. sometimes the best way forward is the obvious one.

⠀⠀ ✶ ⠀⠀ 𝐩isces⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

omen : pisces manifests like a dreamer lost in their own reverie. manifestation as fantasy, as daydream, as an ethereal whisper into the cosmos. they believe in miracles, in divine intervention, in the soft hand of fate guiding them.

fate’s verdict : beautiful, but passive. manifestation is co-creation, not just waiting for the stars to do the work.

⠀꒰ prescription : dream, but also know. the universe moves when you know.

[whispereons]

Oracle!Reader Part 24

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 23, Part 25

Warning! My AU is yandere and can involve gore. Sensitive topics appear in this series. This chapter is a bit bloody but not that bad.

In all honesty, you never expected to be the one to say ‘no’ to a proposal. Love wasn't something you frequently chased, and being a heartbreaker was even farther from your mind.

Maybe that's why you laughed so merrily at Zhongli’s face when you rejected him.

Then again, he wasn't proposing his heart, nor his love. Morax, Rex Lapis, or rather  Zhongli was offering an alliance of mutual benefit.

“What's your reasoning for rejecting my proposal? I may not marry you as the Geo Archon, but I'm not undesirable as I am now.”

He takes a moment to think as his fingers taps on his chin. The way the diamond of his iris shrinks and the slight grimace on his face raises a red flag in your mind. 

“You aren’t rejecting me solely due to the fact that I’m not operating as this country’s Archon are you?”

.

.

.

The smile on your face becomes tight as your hand shakes with the unmeasurable amount of effort to not flip him off right there. Just what did you do that could have caused such a stupid reasoning to come from his usually smart mouth?

“What the fuck made you think that I even gave a shit about you being an Archon?” Well maybe you couldn’t hold your tongue, but granted you didn’t really need to either.

The man bristles, but ultimately doesn’t answer your question, choosing to instead repeat the first question. “Why are you rejecting my proposal, then?”

“Because you don’t love me.”

“I could learn to love you.”

“But that goes against the terms and conditions of what a marriage is supposed to consist of.”

This brings Zhongli to a halt as he stews on your answer. With a smaller voice, he continues, “The legalities of our marriage would be decided on what vows we utter during the ceremony.”

“Not according to the Creator.” It’s like saying ‘no you’ in an argument, especially with how Zhongli’s face contorts into clear annoyance. 

“With what proof do you claim that as the truth? Nothing in any scriptures on Teyvat says that.” He seems to realize what answer you’ll give him even before you open your mouth by sighing.

“Because I’m the Oracle.” The self-satisfied smirk on your face is clear as you step closer to poke his chest. “Unless you’re suddenly going to claim that I’m wrong? Should we cut off another limb? Maybe your pitiful rat-tail as an ornament to decorate it.”

He pushes you away by your head, the material of your mask is cool under his fingers as you let him push you back with a laugh. He tsks at your antics and smoothly replies.

“Have you finished laughing? There’s no need to pick at my appearance when I wouldn’t do the same to you, whenever you would have shown me your face once we wed.”

Light laughter calms down into a brief hum as you take in his words. It’s all just a well-timed cover-up for the internal panic that you had at realizing that marrying him would mean being forced to reveal yourself one way or another.

“Fair point. Do you really want a serious answer from me anyway?” The swift conversation turn doesn’t go unnoticed by Zhongli, but he concedes by answering.

“Yes. Your reasoning may bring me more information on the Creator’s personal beliefs, or even aspects of humanity that I failed to learn firsthand yet.”

“Like rejection?” The smart-ass reply is met with an unimpressed stare as he comments. “Humorous, but not incorrect.”

“I wasn’t completely joking when I said that it’s mostly due to the Creator. Marriage in Liyue at least is mostly decided by the parents.” Your chapped lips become a bit more manageable to speak with as you lick them. “I don’t remember mine, and the closest thing you have to a parent is the Creator themselves, or maybe Teyvat?” Which was a weird thought, but you couldn’t really be sure how to view it.

“Therefore your marriage, or at the very least, my marriage, considering that I was personally sent on a mission by them, should be under the Creator’s control and only theirs. My opinion on it shouldn’t matter.” This was how you remembered China’s history worked, so Liyue hypothetically should have a similar system.

Zhongli’s frown deepens at your answer as you shrug your shoulders. As if you didn’t just make this whole answer up so that you can avoid marrying the ticking time bomb that wouldn’t hesitate to murder you in a split second.

Sure, there was increasing evidence that your acolytes gained this weirdly strong attachment to you, but you weren’t betting your entire life on it. The moment the mask was gone, your life was going to follow it.

“Then it seems I can do nothing but accept your teaching. Thank you for enlightening me on a topic that I was unaware about. Can I chalk this up to something you learned about from the scriptures written in Cloud Ret-”

He cuts himself off as he looks down at the bustling streets below the balcony. “Xianyun’s old abode? The one’s written in indecipherable language?”

Damn, you really forgot about Cloud Retainer’s humansona. Just thinking about accidentally running into her during your visit to Madam Ping makes you irritated in advance.

“No, there are other scriptures that the Creator led me to when I was exploring.” You didn’t want Zhongli trying to trace it back to Cloud Retainers introvert cave. In fact, it was more entertaining to visualize Zhongli searching every nook and cranny of Liyue’s vast lands for said ‘scriptures’.

The sun hits your eyes directly from its position as you try to guess the time. It had to be at least 3:30 at this point, right? Just how much time did you have to see Madam Ping before the dinner with Ningguang?

Who were you even kidding, you didn’t know how to tell the time by the sun. You’ll have to ask someone once you finish rejecting Zhongli.

Noticing your far off gaze and attention no longer on him, Zhongli let the petty, unexplainable indignation at the action simmer as he forcefully turned your body to face the door.

“I believe I’ve taken up more than enough of your time. You’d best be on your way to whatever task may be next on your schedule today.”

Now you feel pretty bad about spacing out like that. “Sorry Zhongli, I was just trying to figure out the time-” Your words seemed to go ignored as he pushed you out the doorway.

“Don’t bother worrying.” Is his brief response. The touch and pressure of his hands is firm and reliable in a way you can’t fully describe, before they’re removed swiftly as if he was burned. “Instead, you can focus on relaying your gratitude the next time we meet.”

Before you can question the strange sentence, the door is already slammed shut in your face. The whiplash of his actions settles as you stare at the wood in bewilderment. Instinctive, your feet lead you back down the stairs as you toss Zhongli’s sudden attitude and words in your mind.

Surely you weren’t that rude? You’ve done and said much worse things to him after all. Replaying your conversation yielded no new revelations, so with a sense of unease, you decide to take his push for your departure as his weird version of sulking.

What he expected you to thank him for wasn’t something you were going to worry about now. The sun shines on you, making the mask a bit warmer against your skin as you exit the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. 

If he didn’t bother explaining what you should be thanking him for, then it must be something either very big or very noticeable. Walking past where the balcony was, you look up and can only spot the empty chairs and simple table.

Time will tell, you suppose.

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

You aren’t completely sure how you expected your meeting with Madam Ping to go, but being stuck inside the temple with your neck being examined carefully by the older woman wasn’t a possibility you had in mind.

“Um, Madam Ping, I’m quite sure Xianyun’s claw marks aren’t there anymore. They’ve long healed at this point.”

“Child, you shouldn’t brush off injuries left by the Adepti so easily. Many can leave varying, strange and frankly annoying effects that can permanently alter your body if not taken care of.”

Sighing, you use your right arm to sip the tea Ping generously made for you, as your left arm was also being examined for any amber fragments from Mountain Shaper.

“You really don’t have to worry. Dr. Baizhu was the one who healed me up, so there’s nothing off about my body.” Ping relents and lets you fix your clothing as she steps away.

It was honestly surprising when she first spotted you and immediately apologized for her Adepti companion's actions. Yaoyao and Shuyu, Xianyun’s youngest disciple, were quick to be corralled away as Madam Ping brought you to one of the smaller rooms for examination.

“It must be an illuminated bird quality to be somewhat violent toward me. Maybe when I meet Xiao, I’ll get an injury from him too.” The joke slips out easily, but when Ping sighs and shakes her head in disapproval, you’re quick to shut your mouth.

“That would be even worse, as the karmic debt can be accidentally seeped into your wound that way.” Each sentence Ping says is clear worry, so you can’t be too annoyed at the slight nagging.

“Even still, I hope you have it in your heart to pray that the Creator forgive my headstrong and stubborn companions.” And here’s the catch. “I’m afraid it hasn’t been long since any of them have been trying this hard to understand humans on a personal level, so they tend to revert into their more proud egos when faced with the unexpected.”

There it was, all the excuses. You were really hoping Ping wouldn’t be the kind enabler that asks the victim to forgive the assaulter under the guise of some excuse. You’ve dealt with more than enough back on earth when bullies actually had abuse and other fucked up shit going on at home. 

Likewise, you weren’t about to put up with it from some ‘illuminated beings’ that had more than enough years to learn how not to be judgmental sad sacks of shi-

“I’ll still properly scold them for you, but it’s the Creator’s opinion that I’m truly concerned about.” Would you get in trouble for punching her? Probably. Yanfei is close with her and the best lawyer in existence.

It wasn’t worth it, you told yourself. It wasn’t worth it to argue with Ping about whether it was okay for the Adepti to hurt you or anyone else, solely depending on how connected they were to the Creator. It absolutely wasn’t worth it to point out how the Adepti’s lack of control over their emotions and harsh judgements couldn’t just be scolded away. And that they definitely weren’t allowed to get away with unneeded violence simply because they’re stubborn.

The building tension as Ping continued to ramble and your death grip on your pants was broken by Yanfei walking in while looking off to the side.

“Granny, I heard you came - Oh. Hello there!”  Yanfei’s casual greeting had you melting back into the oracle position as you smile calmly at Yanfei. 

“Hey, nice to meet you. I was just talking with-” You’re cut off by Ping moving to stand in front of Yanfei and begin to explain and introduce you. Including the fact that the other Adepti attacked you and that you were the oracle.

Well, it’s better than you retelling the story. It’s better to let others lie for you, especially considering the close relations. It’s not like Ping’s way of speaking was fast or overwhelming, it just felt like you would be wrong for whatever reason if you tried interfering.

Doesn’t stop the surge of annoyance, though.

Deciding to just leave as soon as possible and not get into a fist fight with a hidden Adeptus, you move off the bed and walk closer to the duo. Without much trouble, you’re able to slip past them until a hand tugs your wrist quickly before releasing it.

“Sorry, but I just wanted to introduce myself to you before you leave. My name is Yanfei. I'm the top legal advisor in Liyue.” A business card is handed to you as she speaks.

Accepting it, you examine the card to not be rude before stuffing it into your bag. While you’ll probably forget about it, it’s not bad to have it in case you visit Fontaine. Or if things with Ninggnuang get into legal territory.

What actually got your attention was how Yanfei went through the trouble of cutting off Ping to speak personally to you. Could this be the first Adepti related character to treat you with respect as a normal person?

The fact that you’re amazed by basic human decency is pretty fucking sad. The difference in treatment between her and Ganyu despite both of them being half-adeptus is staggering.

“Thank you. Just as Madam Ping explained, my name is Y/N, and I’m an Oracle for the Creator.” At least the old woman didn’t butt in yet. “Yaoyao visited me yesterday to meet her. I just didn’t expect to meet you here as well.”

“You suit your position rather well.” Her head tilts slightly to the side, making the Mora decorations jingle. “Although I haven’t met you before, just by your appearance alone I can guess that you’re either-” A finger is raised. “A - you’re not from here. Or B - you don’t have a traditional job.” The second finger joins the first as she takes in your appearance in completion.

“I would put inhuman beings or vision holders on the list, but your aura is completely that of a human, but also not one of a vision holder. In a way, you remind me of the traveler.”

“It does make sense.” You reply with a noncommittal shrug. “The traveler was the first Acolyte, and I’m the first Oracle, so there’s bound to be some uncanny similarities between us.” 

Madam Ping wistfully sighs at the mention of the traveler. “Ah yes, the Hero of Liyue. I was able to gift them that teapot, but what a shame that I don’t have another one to spare for you, esteemed Oracle.”

And here comes the half-praise, half-demeaning words that’s meant to belittle you into feeling worthless while giving meager praise to make her sound generous. 

“There would be no need to, since I intend on enjoying our God’s creations rather than hiding away from it in an Adeptal piece of machinery.” A wide grin adorns your face with canines clear to see, but your voice is as excited as a child’s with innocence clear.

Those that hear you would assume nothing but ignorance at fault, but the ones that can see how your eyes dimly gleam with mockery would think otherwise.

Isn’t it so good that Yanfei is by your side while Ping is in front of you?

The words clearly hit a nerve, as Ping’s smile drops into a horribly wrinkled frown. Yanfei’s teal eyes look between you two with a smile that dissolves into a confused furrow of her brows.

“My apologies, child, I was unaware that you were so deprived of empathy for others that you can reduce the hard work of the Creator’s chosen protectors of this land into a symbol of defilement.” The last few words are scathing as her face contorts into a gruesome mess of sagging skin.

“Granny, I understand why you’re mad but-” Yanfei takes a step forward, but is cut off by Ping raising her hand while stepping closer to you.

“I can now understand why Shenhe, that poor pitiful child, was so conflicted about her emotions toward you. I may not understand why the Creator chose a human of your breed to have that holy position, but I can only pray that this journey teaches you a lesson concerning those that you have wronged in this way.”

“Granny!” Yanfei yells in shock as she moves between you two, “How could you say something like that to them? You’re not only insulting them, you’re also insulting the Creator!” 

She turns around to face you as she shots a grimace behind her at the fuming hag. “I am so sorry about this, you should probably go now.” 

Nodding with a sad expression, you speak in a confused tone. “I-I understand. It was nice meeting you and Madam Ping. I hope we can talk again sometime.” Twisting open the doorknob and pushing it open, you sneak one last peek into the room.

Yanfei has her back to you as she yells on a whisper level. Ping doesn’t look all that pleased until her eyes stray to yours. The smugness practically rolls off you in waves as she scorns at you with disgust. 

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

It was official.

You were lost.

Looking at the doors and people walking around you, you tried to remember what path you took with Ping. But each door looked the same, with different people rushing in and out.

None of them even had time to talk to you as they wheeled out screaming and bleeding people from room to room. You got glimpses of dressings pressed haphazardly on wounds as you continued walking.

Surely you still had enough time until Ningguang’s dinner?

Trying not to freak out over the time, you continue marching throughout the seemingly endless hallways and avoid bumping into the doctors, nurses and more that rush around you. Eventually you arrive at an area of the building that looks a bit calmer.

You spot a woman wearing a dress looking similar to a work uniform and decide to ask her for directions leading out of the temple. You’re about to call out to her when she opens a door and enters it while cheerfully calling out.

“Thank you so much for all the help despite your busy schedule!” She continues to walk in, giving a half-hearted push to close it. 

Sneakily, you plant your foot right at the hinge of it, making it stop before it actually closes. A sense of déjà vu nags you as you stand outside the room with your head resting against the wall. You close your eyes to listen to the conversation.

“It’s no trouble at all, Daiyu. I always enjoy volunteering to help those who offer sacrifices to the Creator here.” There’s a light tilt to the voice while remaining sturdy, a good indicator that the speaker is who you think it is.

“Even so, as the Yuheng of Liyue, you still have many duties. Much more than you did when you first began to help out all those years ago…” The anxious woman is met with a brief chuckle.

“As I’ve said before, Daiyu, you can call me Keqing during these times. I’m not here as the Yuheng, but as a servant of our God to learn more.” The faint click of heels can be heard as drawers of what you assume are bandages are opened.

“Well, have you finally come to a conclusion? You know about whether self-mutilation is an ‘overdone’ and an ‘inferior’ way of worshiping the Creator?” The question is met with brief silence before Keqing responds.

“I’ve already made up my mind around the same time as Rex Lapis’s death. Self-mutilation isn’t exactly wrong per se, but it should not be our main way of worship. Our bodies were painstakingly crafted by the Creator’s hands and should not be abused. It’s why I’ve strived to keep myself in perfect shape.”

A sigh can be heard with an almost bitter note.

“But humans can not regrow lost limbs. Thus, I do not believe self-mutilation is the best way for humanity to worship the gods. Blood offerings and even human offerings of other criminals can be done, but I believe that self-mutilation should be left for extreme sins and for the Adepti to present.”

With eyes trained to the blood-stained floorboards beneath your feet, you push yourself off the wall. It seemed you weren’t going to gain any useful information from here. 

“The public won’t accept that kind of view that goes against what we’ve been taught for thousands of years. Then again, that never stopped you before - Aw, damn it! There’s barely any medical supplies here, too.”

The tapping of your feet walking away is concealed by the clicking of heels.

“There’s nothing left? Ugh, probably Ningguang again. She’s always doing this stuff.”

But perhaps you should have stayed just a bit longer. 

“The Tianquan?! Oh, please don’t let her know what I said! I quite like my job!”

“Relax, Daiyu, she wouldn’t care about your complaints even if she did hear them.”

“Then why are you frowning like that?”

You never know what you might hear.

“It’s just a bit strange to me. Not long ago she was doing all sorts of planning with an annoyed expression, but this morning she was pleased. She must have either taken care of whatever was bothering her or hatched the perfect, foolproof plan for it.”

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

Thankfully, you did manage to find your way back to the first floor. (When did you even walk up the stairs?) Most of the people there were rather calm, with incense and prayer rooms decorating this floor. 

The smell was of cinnamon and something with a strong woody scent. The one’s in the prayer rooms had healed scars exposed, either doing a full floor bow or at least on their knees.

If they had them, at least.

It was a gruesome sight if you were to be honest. Some had skin raw red from what looked like boil scars, others with self-inflicted writing carved into their skin. Words like; ‘Holy One’, ‘Savior’, and the most popular one of all: ‘Beloved Creator’ were in some way permanently branding their skin.

The wind blew from a certain hallway, as if Teyvat was trying to finally lend you a hand in leaving this temple of smoke and blood. Taking long strides past the rooms that muttered and screamed at varying levels and intervals, you see a set of wide doors.

WHAM

The whir of a sliding door before it slams into the doorway is all you hear before a hand is wrapped firmly around your wrist and pulling you into the dark room. Your breath is knocked out of you as the soles of your shoes search for purchase.

Your hands reach up to where you were grabbed to dig into the scalp of your assailant before you both fall to the ground from the struggle. 

“Let go of me!” You grit out as the slender fingers continue trying to pin you down. A feminine grunt of pain is heard as you finally manage to push her away, making your assaulter hit the wall.

Like hell! You weren’t just going to leave after being attacked for no fucking reason. Rushing forward, you pin the person against the wall as your eyes adjust to the dark room. Silvery hair can be seen in a tangle between your fingertips as you hold her wrists against the wall.

“Shenhe, what the fuck were you thinking? Are you still pissed at me? I thought we cleared it all up.” With a mix of anger, disbelief and pure confusion, you stare at her face as her features slowly become more defined.

“I just wanted to see you again…” The kicked puppy look is not suiting the bloody bandages wrapped around her left eye. Or what used to be her eye. “I didn’t hurt you this time.”

“Dragging an unsuspecting person into a dark room isn't not hostile either, Shenhe.” She simply stares at you in silence, as if she’s incompetent enough to not understand your words. “We almost fought to our deaths last time we met. How am I not supposed to assume that you’re trying to hurt me?”

Shenhe’s head drops a little bit as her mouth opens and closes repeatedly with no success. After giving her a moment, you sigh with a hint of annoyance and let go of her. “I have to get going, Shenhe. I'm not going to sit and wait forever.”

“I’m sorry.” You glance back down at Shenhe as she sits on her knees with her hands clenched tightly on her thighs. “I’m sorry for hunting you down so insistently while framing you as someone who wronged me on a personal level.”

Could you really accept this apology when you did stab her first for killing those Hilichurls you were friends with? Then again, they did give you liquor while Shenhe convinced herself that you were an evil entity. “Thanks for the apology, but that still doesn’t change much. I spent days in Bubu Pharmacy trying not to die from all the shit you and Yelan put me through.”

“I already heard about it and saw the vivid details of your healing progress while I waited outside your window that day.” Those words alone had you whipping your head around to her as your jaw dropped.

“Shenhe, what the hell!?” She staggers back to her feet with a worrying sway before taking mute steps towards your shocked form.

“A good partner is one who is attentive and keeps detailed track of their lover's affairs and health, correct?” Trying to wrap your head around the twisted logic she presents you with, you bury your face in your hands.

“Yes, but not in the context of our relationship.” You stress as your arm automatically reaches out to stop her from swaying to the ground. With your hand firmly on her arm, you continue to speak. “I know that you don’t really use that word often considering Xianyun’s teachings, but it’s pretty fucking important.”

A sole iridescent blinks lazily at you before her whole body weight is pressing down on you. It’s less of a hug and more like a ‘glomp’. Deciding to hold her by her waist to prevent being crushed by the pure muscle mass that made up her body, her forehead rests on your shoulder.

It’s burning. Definitely unusual for a Cryo vision holder.

“Shenhe? Shenhe can you hear me?” You ask as her glazed over eye stares into yours with no recognition seen in them. Swinging your head around, you finally spot a blood stained coat off to the side.

“C’mon, Shenhe, just work with me a bit to get you back to bed.” You spit out as you carry more of her weight to avoid dragging her on the floor. Thankfully, she helps out by wrapping her legs around your body and despite the slight constriction, you still manage to carry her back to bed.

Dropping her on the bed, you carefully fix her up. Brushing her hair out of her face, pulling the covers back over body, and adjusting the surrounding bandages around her injured eye to fit snugly. 

She did apologize after all, it would be cruel of you to leave a person with a fever and probably an infection a mess on a bed. 

That didn’t mean you were going to stay and nurse her back to health. Ningguang was probably at the restaurant at this point, and you weren’t going to be late for it.

Turning around, you take a quiet step toward the exit until a hand wraps frantically around your wrist.

“You forgive me, right?” Heavy breathing fills the room as her sweaty skin clings to the little contact she has with you. “I apologized sincerely, I’ll do it again if I must.” A trembling eye stares into your soul as her voice breaks. “Please…”

You stare down at the disciple with an unreadable expression until a smile breaks out onto your face. Shenhe’s grip loosens as hope begins to light up. Your other hand gently removes her fingers from your wrist before you whisper.

“Why don’t you sleep on it, Shenhe?”

Her eyes slide shut from pure exhaustion as you walk away and exit the room. After taking note of the room number, you resume your short walk to the exit. A nurse is nearby and just as you pull one of the wide doors open, you lean in to whisper a brief message.

The door closes shut behind you as the nurse rushes away. With careful footsteps, you walk leisurely toward the Xinyue Kiosk. The burning stares of civilians and soldiers alike are rolled off you in waves.

It was pointless to fight with the puppets when the puppet master invited you to meet her.

A feel like this part took forever. It's just the beginning of my spring break before I have another quiz and exam. So my break is just more studying, wonderful. My editor didn't need to do much considering the small size but I also feel like this wasn't the best of my work. I did write piece by piece every few nights when I got back home dead tired. I really can't wait for this semester to end…. But I'm also really excited to get started on the dinner with Ningguang! Taglist is always open!

@vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @liansh3ng, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @shellofthewell, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zenith, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername

@zhonglisfruityass, @mer0n37, @victoria1676, @mochinessss, @sinnful-darling, @emilymikado, @pix-stuff, @esthelily, @luxie963, @emmbny, @starsofabundance, @kbar1013, @xxblackroses623xx, @chxrlxtteee, @aludicpoet, @yandematic, @atrcclovsxoxo, @0lshadyl0, @esthelily, @t-rex-red, @ck123, @steadybreadbluebird, @118gremlin, @stratonia, @time-shardz, @farelady-fate, @valeriele3, @francisnyx, @byakuren100, @waveto-earth, @flyingpansaurus, @silverstarred, @iamapotatoe, @ghosthii, @beloveddroplet, @uchihaeirin, @ibelieveinsleep, @idk098, @thefirstonetoeverlikemeback, @toramune, @haaaaaades, @horologiumwise, @melovaaaa, @alittletiredcry, @aphxdea, @atsukawolfcat, @desirabletravel, @pinkpainc, @eccedentesiast-sapphic, @yuyuzi-ling, @hyperfixationwhore

@juuuuuj101010, @avalordream, @kurayamioterasu, @tottybear, @koiikuno, @lynx-of-skies, @quacking-simp, @synthe4u, @kascar-chronicle, @hug4helios, @hug4helios, @silverstarred, @koiikuno, @ithoughtthinks, @remiivx, @lemonade7255, @melpomenelurks, @average-yandere-enjoyer, @mnhao, @fuji-sen, @altumsomnum

[phoenixrisingastro]

The Wound Was Never Random. It Was a Ritual.

Throne of Fire – Initiation into the Third Degree of Light

You were taught to survive pain.

We are here to decode it.

Because in this temple, we do not call it trauma.

We call it instruction.

Every heartbreak you’ve suffered…

Every abandonment that shattered your ribs open…

Every betrayal that left you tasting rust in your mouth

It was all there.

Etched into your Soul Covenant.

Signed by your hand, long before you remembered what hands were.

Astrology is Not Personality. It is Prophecy.

Your Moon square Saturn isn’t “emotional repression.”

It’s the ancestral command to break the silence your bloodline normalized.

Your Chiron in the 1st isn’t “insecurity.”

It’s the sacred shame that forced your ego to fracture—so that your higher self could inhabit your face.

Your Pluto in the 4th isn’t “family dysfunction.”

It’s your soul dragging you into a haunted lineage so you’d become its final exorcist.

Your pain isn’t the problem.

It’s the proof.

Pain is Not an Error. It is an Oracle.

When you were rejected—it was your 7th house screaming,

“You are not here to be chosen. You are here to choose.”

When you were abused—it was Mars and Pluto grinding steel into your spine so you’d never flinch again.

When love abandoned you—it was Venus retrograde sealing the door behind them because you were meant to build a temple, not a relationship.

Stop mourning the life pain interrupted.

It was never yours.

Prophecy is Hidden in the Houses of Hell.

The 12th House is not mystery.

It is the room your pain lives in when you're not ready to name it.

The 8th House is not transformation.

It is the autopsy report of every version of you that had to die.

The 6th House is not service.

It is the daily ritual of learning how to survive your own mind, your own body, your own inherited madness.

The chart was never meant to make you feel seen.

It was meant to crush what cannot pass through the Gate of Light.

Real Astrology is Ritual Wounding.

You didn’t come here for guidance.

You came here to be cracked open.

Because in the third degree, we do not fix ourselves.

We do not forgive the chart.

We do not “heal.”

We translate agony into architecture.

We decode betrayal into blueprint.

We stitch meaning into every scar and call it Scripture.

Your Pain is the Proof That the Stars Are Real.

There is no suffering that did not echo from a placement.

There is no breakdown that didn’t begin as a whisper in the chart.

There is no tragedy that was not first a glyph, an angle, a sentence in your soul contract.

And once you know this,

You will never beg the gods for mercy again.

You will become the god who saw it coming—

and still said yes.

"Blessed be the Broken. For they are the First Initiates."

PhoenixRisingAstro © 2025. All rights reserved.

[saphirafoxgirlspost1]

(Open Rp) Journey to the West In "Two Secretive Love Bonds of Two Gods"

It All Started At Sakutopia Royal court, Princess Saphira who was Sitting on the Throne Giving a Cold Look at her Now "Ex-Husband" Name Prince Daniel Jamerson Rooster Who Stood before the Court of the kingdom For a Crime That He Committed and then Saphira said Coldly,

Saphira: "Prince Daniel Rooster, You are Charge of treason, Murder, Adultery, and Domestic Violence against the Crown of Sakutopia. What Do you have to Say For yourself?"

Daniel stood in Chains along with Barbra Minx who is also In chains as well, Daniel begged Saphira Mercy but She's Having none of it and she said in anger tone,

Saph: "Do you have any Idea That our 5 years Of Marriage is Nothing but a Sham, Disgrace, and Unpassionately? You committed a Murder of My Unborn Daughter, Serena For your Stupid Selfish Desires of Having a son. Not Only that You Committed Domestic abuse Infront of My Subjects! and Committed a treason By Committing the Adultery!"

Daniel: "Please Saph, I'm So Sorry.. I didn't mean to let this happen, I've beg Of you and Have mercy on me and Barbra I-"

Saphira Cut in,

Saphira: "Silence! I will not hear your excuses. As Punishment You and Barbra Minx are Hear by Be Shamed by the good people in sakutopia and For your pregnant mistress..The unborn shall be terminated.."

Daniel: "NO! NO! Not my child..please I beg of you, don't take my Unborn child away from me!"

Saph: "YOU TOOK MINE DANIEL! It's eye for an eye Scenario for you. NO Child Is going To be Born with such Horrendous Parents and Barbra minx is Hearby being sterile as well..and after Shame and all.. You two are BANISHED From the Kingdom of Sakutopia and you two Shall not set foot in this palace again or it's Sentenced to Death for the Both of you!"

Daniel Knee down in defeat as the guards took Barbra Minx to Terminate her pregnancy and after that they were taken to Outside of the Palace as they stripped them naked and Force them to walk with shame. Daniels Father Couldn't even look at him because he was ashamed That his own Son had Mistreated the princess of Sakutopia and Tarnished The good name of his familes Neither is Barbra's father who was So ashamed of His daughter for messing around with a married man.. The Fathers of Daniel and Barbra Bows to Saphira and apologize for their Horrid behavior towards Saphira.. After the walk Of shame, She Ordered the Guards to Close the gates of Sakutopia Kingdom letting Daniel and Barbra know that they are No Longer Welcomed to her Kingdom again.. That night, Her Father (Emperor Mordue) was Livid and ranting about daniels Betrayal and he asked,

Emperor Mordue: "What are we going to do? She has No Suitors at all, She rejected them and Not only that That Rooster boy Cause treason!! What in the name of Smiling devil are going to do to Solve this Suitors Delima?!"

Then His Royal Advisor Knocking on the door and opens it and said,

Royal Advisor: "I Say We should Send Saphira to the Oracle of the west. She will tell the Princess Who is a worthy Husband for her and She lives in Thunder Monastery."

Mordue: "The Oracle of the west, It's pretty far from here! Besides They're Crawling with demons in the Mortal World, Who will be by her side to Bless and protect her?"

Royal Advisor: "Thats where the good news part, There is a Monk who just Came into the palace and His name is "Tang Sanzang", He was Known as the "Golden Cicada"."

Mordue: "THE "Golden Cicada" here?! Well bring Him here at the throne room, I'll have Words with him..and request to take my daughter to the west to seek the oracle as well."

Royal Advisor: "Oh Your Majesty, The Monk was going to the west too to get Buddha's Scriptures as well"

Then Emperor Mordue Nodded as he ordered The Advisor to bring the monk to him. When Master Sazang came to the throne room, The emperor comes in and welcomed him as master Sazang thanked him for letting him stay.. Then The emperor Offered him To Accompany His Daughter on the Journey to the west To seek the Oracle, Of course Master Sazang accepted the Offer and Saphira was overheard the conservation. Then The Next Day as Saphira Is Wearing the Fox mask with her mags full of clothes and food she needs and got on to her Mighty Great White Kirin Name Yuki and she Is Introduce to the monk as she bows and rise, Then the Journey to the west has begun.. During the long Journey, Saphira Notice the big mountain about the shape of the hand even Master tang Told her that it's a Buddhas hand as she was amazed by it until the Dangerous tiger came out from the shadows to come after her..Saphira gasp and rides her kirin to distract the tiger and Told Master tang to get to the Safety, after he gets to safety, Saphira found the cave and began to go in..as the tiger try to get in to eat her..until she hears the Mischief Voice calling to her, She turns and saw the Monkey king and he said to her…

[yoru-no-seiiki]

VILLAIN! READER WITH A YAN! MASOCHISTIC! PROTAGONIST

tw/cw: DDNE, mentions of abuse, actual abuse (by reader), implied parental neglect. protagonist’s gender is whatever you want it to be. gn pronouns.

[ second part ]

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI OR I WILL BLOCK YOU.

You wholeheartedly believed that you’d rule the world one day. The oracles deemed it so, and the rest followed. The only problem being is that you’d rule with an iron fist, causing the death of millions under your tyrannical reign. Many opposed your position as heir to the throne.

In comes the protagonist, your adopted sibling who is also destined for great things. The difference being is that they’ll gain it through defeating you.

Everyday is a murderfest with you trying to kill the kid but because of plot armor they’re resistant to any and all sorts of spells, weapons and even people you’ve hired.

Yan! Protagonist who had been abused their entire life saw this as just an act of love. Even moreso since you were so determined to hurt them everyday. It must mean you adored them does it not? They don’t understand why they’re not able to die or properly get hurt by you though, so at times they’ll even try to get in your way to make it easier.

But this just ends up with you hating them further and further.

As the two of you grow up, tactics start to become even more underhanded and deadly. You had lost all sense of empathy and kindness at this point. You had also halted trying to hide your attempts as your sibling clearly knew of it anyways.

But with your duties increasing as well, you are unable to execute much of your assassination attempts much less see your sibling directly. It came to the point of dull poisoning plots of which Yan! Protagonist had literally gained an immunity to with how frequent it was.

Yan! Protagonist never wanted to become ruler. A kingdom was far too much to manage and think about. All they wanted was to relax and be with you.

But with you being all busy and ignoring them. . . they simply can not stand idle and let this be!

And so they throw themselves into their studies. Those that doubted the Protagonist are now in awe of the way they picked up things in addition to their overflowing determination. They must really want to take you down.

Unbeknownst to them, they were simply doing this so you’d go back to giving them your attention.

Years after you’d officially taken the throne, they barged into castle. Thousands of troops behind them as they declared,

—

“Exalted sibling, I’ve come to take the burden of the throne from your hands!” The protagonist stood before you in all their glory. Magnificent as the scriptures had foretold. Absolutely befitting for the next in line for the throne. Blessed with a face sculpted by the gods.

You wanted nothing more rip it from their skull and watch the blood rain down on their regal clothing.

“You’ll have to take it from my cold, dead body.”

The protagonist froze in their tracks. Your words and pure confusion taking a while to settle in.

Wait, what?

. . . to be continued

Anyways that’s just a smol part from one of my webtoon ideas i’ve been writing haha. It probably won’t be expanded on until I officially published that one and it’s like further down the list of webtoon order so oop-

©️ yoru.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

[hidden-oracle]

Can I request Ranpo, Chuuya and Poe for the crush headcanons, please? Thank you in advance!

Ranpo Edogawa

New Feelings

You were assigned to help him with an investigation. You impressed him, so it took a while for him to realize it was a crush. But when he did, oh boy, he became unbearable.

He would constantly tease you whenever you were assigned to help him. He never had a crush before, so he's not sure how to deal with it.

Chuuya Nakahara

Of two worlds

He has never felt anything like this, it's an extremely warm feeling. But you're just a civilian who accidentally got caught up in the Port Mafia's affair. The moment he saw you it was all over for him, he felt more human that day.

Every time he sees when he's out and about that warm feeling comes back. But does he deserve you? You're just a civilian, someone from a different world than his.

Edger Allen Poe

Daydreaming

Poe doesn't know what to do with himself. He's a mess whenever he sees you. You're a new clerk in the Agency, so whenever he comes by to give Ranpo his manuscript. He sees you and loses his train of thought. Ranpo teases him about his crush on you.

He starts to daydream when he works on other manuscripts, resulting in him putting his feelings on the page. He's never letting those pages see the light of day.

[niyasruledbyvenus]

How did you start and elarn abt vedic astrology and for what do you use it for?

Overview {Vedic astrology or “Jyotish” is an ancient Indian system of astrology rooted in the Vedas/ Hindu scriptures. It interprets the influence of celestial bodies such as planets (Grahas), stars (nakshatras), and constellations (Rahis) on human life and events. It also uses divisional charts (Vargas), Dashas, and transits to predict personal life events.}

I have went through some messed up things especially in my childhood. Which drew me to astrology and psychology. Kind of a way that I was subconsciously trying to find answers. I started learning Vedic astrology after I learned almost everything about tropical because some parts wasn’t resonating with me. It just felt too surface level to me. I needed a deeper analysis.

I feel Vedic astrology is more accurate when it comes to predicting things like future spouse, career, children, etc. More in depth when it comes to one’s thoughts, soul mission, personality, positive & negative qualities. Also, you can predict world events more accurately. In Vedic the description of planets & houses are less black and white when it comes to how they function. Cough cough, or should I say sugarcoated

Even when you get into nakshatras of someone’s chart. The things they say and the way they act start to make sense because it correlates to the deity/story of the nakshatra.

I kind of started off by watching YouTube videos from sidereal/ Vedic astrologist like KRS & Claire Nakti then I started doing my own research by reading.

Here’s some resources I can think off the top of my head

Vedic blogs

@vindelllas

@yourmyheaven

@conceptionsofconciousness

@kiraastro

@amtalchemy

@chitra111goddess

@lychee-angelica

@venussaidso

@laifromthecosmos

@shukraastro

@makingspiritualityreal

YouTube Channels

Thehiddenoctave

Claire nakti

KRS channel

Vic Dicara’s Astrology

Joni patry

AstroMartine

Addittya Tamhankar Podcasts

Poonman Dutta (Satyamshakti)

astrologyloka

Daquan jones

Dr Arjun Pai Astrology

Vedic Oracle

Websites

Books

https://ia904500.us.archive.org/5/items/1050-astrology-books_202107/Bepin%20Behari_Fundamentals%20of%20Vedic%20Astrology.pdf

https://vedicastroamit.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/08/Yoga-Jyotish-book.pdf

[sag-dab-sar]

📖 Myth & Sacred Scripture 📖

In Hellenic Polytheism and Mesopotamian Polytheism (and others but I don't want to speak for them) there is no sacred scripture where the words of a God are given to a myth writer and that writing is then declared holy by some form of religious authority.

The idea that myths are the literal actions of the Gods come from a concept of sacred scripture. Sacred meaning the words have holy implications or they have a fundamentally important connection to the divine. This understanding of religious writings is demonstrated in:

Protestant Christianity where the Bible is divinely inspired (usually derived from 1 Timothy 3:16 & 2 Peter 1:12). Additionally, in Trinitarian Christianity Jesus is God making his words in the Gospels the literal words of God.

Islam where the Quran are the words of God given to Mohammad via the angel Gabriel over the course of his life.

Judaism where traditionally the written Torah are the words of God given to Moses at Mt Sinai.

**There are more examples but I'm not going to try and talk about something I did not study.

This pervasive idea of scripture being the words of God embeds itself into a general view of what religion supposedly is because:

Christianity is the largest religion in the world.

Christianity is the dominant religion in English speaking countries, so when we have these discussions in English it tends to have that cultural Christian viewpoint.

Islam is the second largest religion in the world.

Islam considers the Jewish and Christian scriptures to also be given from God, but they have been corrupted in one way or another. This combination can put a mistaken emphasis on sacred scripture being a fundamental aspect of religion.

Even though Judaism is a very small religion the written Torah is considered part of the Christian Old Testament (first five books). Christians interpret the scripture completely differently but the idea of Moses receiving the Word of God at Mt Sinai continues into Christianity from Judaism.

In many "dead religions" the closest you can come to the "words of the gods" might be the writings of ancient oracles or those who communed directly with spirits & gods. However, in Greece and Mesopotamia there was no centralized religion or continuous tradition to overview and canonize them into sacred scripture. Additionally, those are not usually what people are talking about when they refer to myth.

Myth is extremely important, but mythic literalism is a misstep people make, often due to our preconceived notions of sacred scriptures and their connection to the divine.

-dyslexic not audio proof read-

-I hope this makes sense-

[solas-backpack-mug]

avowed gameplay!!!

a summary of the video:

game mechanics:

there is parkour

the five ability trees are: Fighter, Ranger, Wizard, Godlike, and Companion

there is swimming

lore that people in-game know (tiny spoilers):

sargamis may have named himself after one of the early figures in eothasian scripture (dialogue option available for arcane scholar background)

in-game lore explanation "(...) Eothas was destroyed, but later rose again in the Deadfire Archipelago. What happened to him there is a matter of speculation."

in kai's words "Eothas is a dangerous god associated with Eora's bloodiest wars, and he recently killed thousands of people in Deadfire."

sargamis has this cool sword

plot of a part of the game and some fresh lore (bigger spoilers):

sargamis built a statue of eothas and has some animantic devices near it

sargamis is looking for a relic called Splinter of Eothas. "You see, this construction beside us is no mere statue, but a reliquary I have built to house the Splinter of Eothas in its appropriate grandeur. It is nearly complete, and ready for the Splinter to be interred, but I can no longer reach the relic on my own". that relic was also sought by the aedyran expedition team the player character is looking for

the expedition team is found dead without a single wound. some dialogue options about it are "I've seen something like this before, in the creation of animats" and "They remind me of the bodies of the godlikes who died a few years ago". this implies that some godlikes lost their souls somehow (imo most likely the gods fed from them because they were starved of essence)

kai theorizes sargamis put the sould of the expedition team into that statue of eothas in the main chamber. one of the dialogue options that requires intellect 2 is "Could the oracle's plan have something to do with Eothas' vanishing at Ukaizo?"

sargamis, upon being confronted about killing the expedition team: "Ah. I did not expect you to be so thorough in your explorations. Nevertheless, am impressed. As to whether I killed them, well, that is a matter of semantics. Does death occur the moment the heart ceases beating, or when the soul is broken upon the Wheel? In one sense, then, they are quite dead. In another, they remain very much alive.

sargamis intends to redeem eothas

sargamis: "The relic you have retrieved was stolen from Eothas' body. He is bound to it, or it to him. And before the events at Ukaizo, he would speak to me through it. He speaks to me no longer, but I believe he resonates with the Splinter yet, as I do. If I am correct, when it is placed in the statue, the magnifying power of the adra will draw him into it, and he will be trapped. Locked into the reliquary with a chorus of furious souls acting as his conscience... He will finally begin the work of making right all the wrong he has done."

if the pc agrees to help sargamis and does what he asks, the process fails. sargamis then asks the pc to lend their godlike chime

[thediormulan]

PICK A CARD

BLOODLINE TO BANKROLL: THE WEALTH CODES YOU WERE BORN TO EMBODY

A Velvet Prophecy on Ancestral Currency, Magnetic Identity & Who Thrives When You’re Rich in Every Realm

You weren’t born to budget your birthright—you were born to rewrite the blueprint. This isn’t just a reading; it’s a sacred act of remembrance. It recalls what your ancestors buried, what your higher self never forgot: you are not here to chase wealth—you are the wealth. Wisdom, vision, beauty, legacy—that’s your true currency. You don’t manifest abundance; you remember that you are abundance. This is the moment you stop waiting to be chosen and start commanding your inheritance. This isn’t a Pick-a-Card. It’s a velvet inheritance ceremony. And you? You’re the heir. The altar. The authority. Choose your pile. Choose your frequency. Claim your legacy.

If you’re ready to go deeper into your velvet prophecy—

book a one-on-one Velvet Offering and claim the wealth codes written in your bones.

Your story begins in silence. Not the quiet of peace, but the hush of forgotten gold. You were born into a lineage that wore survival like a second skin. You felt the echo of unpaid debts, withheld praise, and ancestral fatigue long before you ever opened your first account.

Ten of Swords reversed shows the moment your soul said “enough.” You broke the loop. You no longer carry the bankruptcy of self-worth. The Tower upright reveals that you were divinely placed into this bloodline to awaken it financially, spiritually, psychically. You are both the collapse and the construction.

Four of Pentacles upright whispers that scarcity was taught to you like scripture—but baby, it never belonged to you. Knight of Pentacles upright confirms that you’re rebuilding from ground zero with grace and grit. It’s slow. It’s not sexy. But it’s sacred.

When Lilith in Capricorn arrives, she reminds us that you were demonized for wanting more—but now you reclaim your power in spaces that once punished you for existing. The Weaver shows up to declare that you sew your legacy thread-by-thread, not with a strategy, but with soul.

Your Root Chakra reversed reveals that your earliest money trauma wasn’t about cash—it was about survival, safety, and worth. But Queen of Swords upright says you became your own protector. You turned your clarity into currency.

Finally, Death upright seals the deal: the contract with poverty? Terminated. The ghost of lack? Banished. You are no longer the cursed heir—you are the sovereign successor.

Symbolism & Numerology

Repeating 4s and 10s signal sacred structure and karmic closure.

Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn energy grounds this reading in earth-based mastery.

Colors: Obsidian, blood red, deep brown.

Angel Number: 144

You are breaking ground. The foundation is sacred.

Confirmation Letters:

T, R, N, L, E

Song:

“Money Trees” – Kendrick Lamar

From Your Higher Self:

“You weren’t born broke—you were born beneath a buried throne.”

From the Universe:

“The vault opens when you stop apologizing for your value.”

Drop a black lock 🔑 emoji if you’re reclaiming the keys to your ancestral abundance.

You were never meant to blend in. Your wealth doesn’t whisper—it roars.

From the moment you enter a space, energy rearranges. Queen of Wands upright leads this reading because your aura already knows it’s the asset. Your look? A spell. Your walk? An offering. Your very breath? Abundant.

Venus in Leo confirms that your prosperity blooms through beauty, performance, and unapologetic desire. You attract because you are radiant. You don’t just shine—you seduce.

The Empress affirms: your very presence births value. You don’t need a business plan to be worthy. You exist, and the universe expands. With The Star, your path is lined with public recognition. Visibility is not vanity—it’s vibrational wealth.

The Diamond Oracle says you hold rare codes: charisma, clarity, creativity. But Two of Cups reversed notes that others have tried to siphon it, shrink it, or shame it. That ends now.

Ace of Wands delivers new opportunities, new collaborations, and money birthed from passion. With The Queen (Archetype), your presence demands compensation. You’re no longer waiting for validation—you invoice energetically and spiritually.

Symbolism & Numerology

Strong 3s and 6s = Divine feminine flow + magnetism

Leo, Libra, Taurus = The royal Venusian trinity

Colors: Gold, peach blossom, rose quartz, tiger’s eye

Angel Number: 777

Your magnetism is the miracle. Let them stare.

Confirmation Letters:

D, V, J, A, Y

Song:

“Big Energy (Remix)” – Latto ft. Mariah Carey & DJ Khaled

From Your Higher Self:

“You’re not showing off—you’re showing what happens when the divine gets dressed.”

From the Universe:

“They’ll try to emulate your shine, but only you were born dipped in it.”

Drop a sparkle ✨if your presence has ever made a room reintroduce itself.

This pile? She’s legacy-coded. You are the walking reminder that money, when held in love and purpose, becomes medicine.

We open with Six of Pentacles upright, because you were born to redistribute. Your spirit tithes in every interaction. You don’t hoard—you harvest. You give and generate. Your wealth was never just yours.

The World upright confirms that your impact is global—whether through media, healing, voice, or vision. You’re not small-scale. You’re systemic. Justice reversed acknowledges where you’ve seen imbalance—especially racial, gendered, spiritual—and now you balance the scales by being abundant on purpose.

North Node (Astro) reveals this is your purpose timeline. Wealth is not just allowed—it’s required. Ten of Cups affirms joy is funded through you: birthdays, breakthroughs, businesses. Someone is alive and thriving because you said yes to receiving.

Page of Wands shows a younger soul watching you, learning how to dream differently. The Liberator confirms you are the example. You give others permission to dream beyond survival. Nine of Wands reversed says you’re learning it’s safe to receive without guilt.

Moon in Aquarius is the revolution. Innovation. Soul-currency. Oracle of the Ancestors – The Ripple concludes with the confirmation: your legacy is not future—it’s now.

Symbolism & Numerology

6s, 10s = Community, emotional wealth

Aquarius, Libra, Sagittarius = Expansive freedom

Symbols: Silver, rivers, open palms, honey, open flame

Angel Number: 606

When you win, they wake up.

Confirmation Letters:

M, B, Z, H, F

Song:

“Liberation” – Outkast ft. CeeLo Green & Erykah Badu

From Your Higher Self:

“You’re not just building wealth—you’re building windows.”

From the Universe:

“Your riches are the permission slip your ancestors prayed someone would write.”

Drop a raised hands 🙌🏽 emoji if you’ve ever given when you had barely enough, but still knew you were rich.

Some wealth lines are earned.

Yours? It’s assigned. Sealed. Sacred.

Eight of Swords reversed begins the revelation: the shame around desiring more? Not yours. You are unshackling not just yourself, but generations of suppression. Judgement confirms: you are the one they chose. The one who said yes when the contract was offered in the ethers.

The Devil upright shows the depths you’ve faced—temptation, guilt, secret hunger. Not as flaws. As initiations. You’ve walked through spiritual capitalism and came out conscious.

The Fool speaks to your blank check moment—where your ancestors gave you full permission to imagine what they couldn’t. Mars in Scorpio confirms your ambition is ancestrally backed. You’re not delusional—you’re fulfilling a sacred pact.

Seven of Cups upright = income streams. Multiple. All divine. The Prophet archetype says your voice, your message, your art—creates currency. Queen of Pentacles confirms: your money funds healing, beauty, restoration.

The Scroll ends the reading with finality: this was written before you arrived. You are not manifesting—you are fulfilling.

Symbolism & Numerology

1s, 7s, 8s = New paths, soul mastery, divine power

Scorpio, Pisces, Aries = Depth and fire

Symbols: Black candles, scrolls, ink, phoenix feathers

Angel Number: 1717

Your destiny is wealthy because it has to be.

Confirmation Letters:

S, C, N, X, U

Song:

“Holy Terrain” – FKA Twigs ft. Future

From Your Higher Self:

“Your wealth is protection. Your legacy is prophecy.”

From the Universe:

“This isn’t karma—it’s contract fulfillment.”

Drop a scroll 📜 if you know deep down your success was pre-written.

You didn’t pick a pile.

You picked a path.

You picked a prophecy.

You picked a new paradigm of prosperity.

And now you know:

This isn’t about income.

It’s about impact.

It’s about initiation.

It’s about embodiment.

If this cracked something open—reblog it. Quote it. Testify in the comments.

Let your people know:

You’re not just healing the line—you’re funding the future.

If you’re ready to go deeper into your velvet prophecy,

book a one-on-one Velvet Offering and claim the wealth codes written in your bones.

CHANNELED BY DIOR HARRIS

STAY INFINITE. STAY DIVINE. STAY VELVET.

À BIENTÔT, MON ANGE.

[whencyclopedia]

Book of Genesis

The Book of Genesis is the first book of the Jewish scriptures and the Old Testament of the Christian Bible. Genesis takes its name from the opening line in Hebrew – beresit, ("in the beginning") – later translated into Greek as genesis ("origin"). Genesis is the first text of what eventually became designated the Pentateuch, the Jewish Torah ("teachings"): five books of the Laws of Moses.

The Documentary Hypothesis

Genesis consists of a variety of literary details: myth, hymns, prayers, sacrifices, rituals, oracles, folk tales, and historical narratives. Tradition claimed that the first five books were written down by Moses, who passed them to his general Joshua when the Israelites arrived in Canaan from Egypt. In the 19th century, the social science disciplines of archaeology, anthropology, and sociology emerged and were utilized to study ancient civilizations and ancient texts. What is noteworthy in Genesis is that several of the stories are repeated, but with varying details. At times, the God of Israel is referred to as "Lord," but at other times as "God almighty." When this occurs we also find theological differences, as well as indications of changing historical contexts that included politics.

After the period of the united monarchy under King David and his son, Solomon (c. 900 BCE), two separate kingdoms were created: the Northern Kingdom of Israel and the South Kingdom of Judah. A way to explain the formation of the text was proposed by Julius Wellhausen (1844-1918), who taught at the University of Göttingen in Germany, in what became known as the Documentary Hypothesis. As we do not know who actually wrote the biblical texts, the various elements were assigned to a source:

J, the Jahwist, or Jerusalem source The Hebrew name of God (revealed in the book of Exodus) consisted of four consonants, YHWH ("I am that I am"), described as the tetragrammaton. We have the German J, for the pronouncement of the Y sound. The later Masoretic version added vowels, which gives us the English version, Jehovah (which does not appear in the Bible). The J source utilized anthropomorphic portraits of God; "the face of God," "the hand of God." In these texts, God often visits the earth.

E, the Elohim source The E comes from a form of the Canaanite el, pluralized as representing several aspects of the godhead, but also from the tribe of Ephraim, settled in the Northern Kingdom of Israel. The E source portrays God as a more abstract being who does not come to earth, but communicates through angels.

P, the Priestly source The P source is a collective term for priestly concerns. This includes the sacrifices, rituals, hymns, prayers, and the begats of Genesis. The Hebrew begat ("brought forth") was the term for procreation. All ancient cultures emphasized bloodlines in detailed genealogies. This validated concepts and practices handed down through the generations. In oral cultures, the repeated lists of the begats may have been a way to memorize oral traditions.

D, the Deuteronomist source This source was named after the last of the five books assigned to Moses (Deuteronomy). It is a collective term for the final form of the traditions that were written down. In 722 BCE, the Neo-Assyrian Empire invaded the Northern Kingdom, and refugees from the North migrated to Judah. This may be when northern traditions were first joined to southern traditions, combining the J and E sources.

In 587 BCE, the Babylonian Empire invaded Judah and destroyed the Temple of Solomon. At that time, some Jews were taken captive to the city of Babylon. This period is known as the Babylonian exile." The theory is that the "Deuteronomist," either a person or school of scribes, completed the final redaction, or editing, of all the combined sources while in Babylon, beginning c. 600 BCE, but with further editing over the next several centuries (in a range from 538-332 BCE).

Jews Mourning the Exile in Babylon

Eduard Bendemann (CC BY-SA)

Continue reading...

[scotianostra]

January 8th 1697 Edinburgh student Thomas Aikenhead was executed in Edinburgh.

This is a cracking, if sad tale, and shows you how religious beliefs can be a blight on our history.

So who was oor Thomas, a villain?, a murderer?, a smuggler?, or some enemy of the state? No Thomas’s crime was blasphemy who took the lord’s name in vain…….this would be comic if it wasn’t for the tragic fact that he was executed, unlike the man in Life of Brian, who uttered the words Jehova, Thomas complained that he wished he was warming himself in hell rather than that chilly night walking past the recently built Tron Kirk on Edinburgh’s Royal Mile. Well that’s the simple story that the tour guides that take you round the Old Town will tell you, there is a bit more to it so I will bore you with a bit more of the detail. Thomas Aikenhead came from a well-to-do family in Edinburgh, his father being listed as a surgeon but more probably an apothecary, a dispenser of herbs and potions. Both his parents were dead by the time he became a student at Edinburgh University at the age of 16 or 17.

His mother had been a daughter of the manse, and you would think that would have made Aikenhead wary of challenging the established religion of the time, namely the all-powerful Church of Scotland, especially while still a student and under the constant gaze of professors, lecturers and, as it turned out, his fellow students.

These were the dying days of a curious period in Scottish history. Aikenhead would have been four when the ‘Wizard of the West Bow’ Major Thomas Weir was executed in 1670. Our own ghost hunter-member Leonard Low mentioned him in a comment already today. Weir was by day an extreme Calvinist but by night an incestuous Satanist and it takes no great leap of reason to see that an impressionable young boy might well have been affected by the trial and execution of a local celebrity that lived not far from him.

The 1680s was also the ‘killing time’ for the Covenanters when many died because of they worshipped their same god in differing ways!

Thomas was a keen student and an avid reader, he may or may not have known and Edinburgh bookseller, John Frazer, who had been prosecuted after admitting either reading, or being in possession of Charles Blount’s Oracles of Reason a book I know nothing about but gather it relates to Deism, which questioned the existence or more importanyly, non-existence of God or Satan, Frazer had repented ad as it was a first offence was sackclothed and jailed in the old Tolbooth for a number of months.

Anyway, Thomas had a friend, well he thought he had a friend, Murdo Craig, but Murdo, on the sly had been keeping notes on Aitkenhead, and his dalliances with blasphemous ideals, we know that because they formed a large part of the indictment against Aikenhead.

“Nevertheless it is of verity, that you Thomas Aikenhead, shakeing off all fear of God and regaird to his majesties lawes, have now for more than a twelvemoneth by past, and upon severall of the dayes within the said space, and ane or other of the same, made it as it were your endeavour and work in severall compainies to vent your wicked blasphemies against God and our Saviour Jesus Christ, and against the holy Scriptures, and all revealled religione, in soe far as upon ane or other of the dayes forsaid, you said and affirmed, that divinity or the doctrine of theologie was a rapsidie of faigned and ill-invented nonsense, patched up partly of the morall doctrine of philosophers, and pairtly of poeticall fictions and extravagant chimeras, or words to this effect or purpose, with severall other such reproachfull expressions.”

That was just for starters. Sir James Stewart of Goodtrees, the Lord Advocate of the day, had taken a personal interest in the case and he decided to throw the whole lot of Craig’s testimony at Aikenhead who was arrested in November, 1696, and charged under the Blasphemy Act of 1661 which carried the death penalty. He also charged Aikenhead under a more recent act, which made it a criminal offence to ‘deny, impugn or quarrel’ about the existence of God.The prosecution papers go on to record

“You have lykwayes in discourse preferred Mahomet to the blessed Jesus, and you have said that you hoped to see Christianity greatly weakened, and that you are confident that in a short tyme it will be utterly extirpate.”

For Mahomet, read Muhammad, could young Thomas be an Islam convert in 17th century Edinburgh, I very much doubt it, they just needed to make an example of the young student, and he knew by now that he was in very great trouble and protested in effect that he was guilty only of the sin of being youthful and had been led astray by the books he had read. He claimed to have repented of his anti-Christian beliefs and was once again a good Presbyterian. In this way he seems to have thrown himself upon the mercy of the court, but there was no mercy. On Christmas Eve, 1696, a jury found him guilty. Sir James Stewart asked for the death penalty and it was granted and “pronounced for doom,” as Scottish judges were still saying well into the 20th century in capital punishment cases. Aikenhead pleaded for his life to the Privy Council emphasising his youth, his dire circumstances, and the fact that he was reconciled to the Protestant religion. There was some support for the death sentence to be commuted from at least two councillors and two Church of Scotland ministers, but the General Assembly of the Kirk intervened, demanding that Aikenhead suffer

“vigorous execution to curb the abounding of impiety and profanity in this land”.

In his last letter to friends, written in the Tolbooth prison in Edinburgh as he awaited execution, Aikenhead at last gave a plausible explanation for his conduct – that he had been a disappointed seeker after truth. He wrote:

“It is a principle innate and co-natural to every man to have an insatiable inclination to the truth and to seek for it as for hid treasure. So I proceeded until the more I thought thereon, the further I was from finding the verity I desired.” In truth, in a repressed society the student had just gone too far in rejecting the doctrines of Christianity calling it “feigned and ill-invented nonsense”

Aikenhead went to his death on January 8, 1697, hanged on the scaffold at Shrubhill between Edinburgh and Leith. It is said that before he died he proclaimed that moral laws were the work of governments and men. In his hand as the noose was plced around his neck was the Holy Bible. The execution angered many people for many years afterwards. The great English historian Thomas Babington Macaulay wrote an account of the hanging and called the execution “a crime such has never since polluted the island.”He continued: “The preachers who were the boy’s murderers crowded round him at the gallows, and, while he was struggling in the last agony, insulted Heaven with prayers more blasphemous than any thing that he had ever uttered.”

There was other evidence of church authorities being present as Aikenhead died. He was the last man in Britain to be hanged for blasphemy.

According to Arthur Herman in his book “How the Scots Invented the Modern World: The True Story of How Western Europe’s Poorest Nation Created Our World and Everything in It”, the execution of Aikenhead was “the last hurrah of Scotland’s Calvinist ayatollahs” before the dawning of the age of reason in the Enlightenment.

Now we can all rejoice in The Enlightenment but a full 30 years later in the small town of Dornoch in Sutherland, Janet Horne was put on trial for the “crime” of having a daughter whose feet and hands were misshapen and who had herself given birth to a son with disabilities. She was the last woman in Britain to be burned at the stake for being a witch, her death bringing to an end the “burning time” when perhaps 4000 Scottish women were executed for the crime of witchcraft.

I thought I would add a wee bit more about Shrubhill in Leith, as most of us usually only regard Edinburgh’s Old Town, The Tolbooth, and Grassmarket as sites where executions took place. I can’t find out why Aikenhead was taken to, at what at the time, was a different town for his executions I did however find records of several taking place at the site, now student accommodation, but the site of Edinburgh's tram workshops and powerstation, but beforehand not many know that it was the site of he gibbet known as the Gallow Lee, literally the “field with the gallows”,

Bodies were buried at the base of the gallows or their ashes scattered if burnt. The most famous of those that met their end here was perhaps Major Weir, the Wizard of the West Bow.

1570- Two criminals strangled and burned to death.

1570 (4 October)- Rev. John Kelloe minister of Spott, East Lothian (near Dunbar) strangled and burnt for the murder of his wife

1664- Nine "witches" strangled and burnt

1670- Major Thomas Weir, the self-confessed warlock, strangled and burnt for witchcraft (almost the only self-confessed witch executed).

1678- Five "witches" strangled and burnt

1680- Part of the body of Covenanter David Hackston was hung in chains after his execution at the mercat cross in Edinburgh for the murder of Archbishop Sharp in 1679.

1681 (10 October)- Covenanters Garnock, Foreman, Russel, Ferrie and Stewart hanged and beheaded. Their headless bodies were buried at the site and their heads placed on the Cowgate Port at the foot of the Pleasance. Friends reburied the bodies in the graveyard of the West Kirk (St. Cuthberts). The heads were retrieved, placed in a box and then buried in garden ground at Lauriston. They lay there until 7 October 1726 when the then owner, Mr Shaw, had them exhumed and reburied near the Martyrs’ Monument in Greyfriars Kirkyard.

1697 (8 January)- Thomas Aikenhead, a 19-year-old theology student at Edinburgh University became the last person to be executed under Scotland’s blasphemy laws (and the last in Britain to be executed for that crime).

1752 (10 January)- Norman Ross, a footman, hanged for the murder of Lady Baillie, sister of Home, Laird of Wedderburn. The body was left to hang in a gibbet cage “for many a year” and became a local ghoulish tourist attraction.

Shrubhill House sits on the site now and houses up to 260 students, I wonder how many know of it's past?

Post mid 18th Century the Nor’ Loch was drained and the city expanded to the north by the building of the New Town with stone quarried from nearby Craigleith quarry. In such building sand was needed to add to the lime mortar and Gallow Lee proved to be just what was needed. The owner of Gallow Lee charged the builders to cart away the sand, containing the ashes and other remains of thousands of victims.