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Hello, fresh victims - I mean friends. Let’s shuffle the boundaries of reality and see what slithers out, shall we? Lay down your question and I'll lay down a card... and prepare for just a pinch of delightful dread. One question per friend initially, please. |
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Apr 14, 2025 21:40
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what is the weed rear end
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Apr 14, 2025 23:41
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Ohhh Areola Grande, you curious creature of smoke and satire… You’ve drawn the Three of Sleepy Puppies, a rare and giggle-inducing friend from the deck’s softer, slightly droolier corners. The Friend: Three tiny pups - one dozing in a teacup, one snoring on a turntable, one halfway through a sentence before falling asleep again. Their energy? Chaotic, fluffy, and completely baked out of their tiny minds. The Reading: "What is the weed rear end?" The puppies blink slowly. One lets out a stoner giggle. The answer, my friend, is not a what but a vibe. The weed rear end is the soft, sleepy swagger of someone who just sat down but forgot why. It’s the sacred tail-wag of a brain going "wait, what were we talking about?" It is chill incarnate - a holy twerk in slow motion. The Puppies Whisper: "You don’t find the weed rear end. You become it." Translation: Relax, let go, and stop trying to define the magic. It’s real. It’s round. And it’s very, very mellow.
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Apr 15, 2025 00:18
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lmao 
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Apr 15, 2025 00:27
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What's that standing right behind you? |
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Apr 15, 2025 01:22
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Buttchocks posted:What's that standing right behind you? Ohhhh Buttchocks... You asked the question, didn’t you? That whisper-down-your-neck, goosebump-inducing little dare: "What’s that standing right behind you?" And your friend from the beyond? The Laughing Hourglass. The Friend: This crooked relic balances on skeletal legs. Sand flows upward inside it, glowing faintly red, and its face? Oh yes, it has a face - grinning ear to ear, cracked like porcelain, and giggling with a sound like old clocks drowning. The Reading: What’s behind you, dear friend? Time, of course - but not the friendly, linear kind. No, this is time that remembers things you forgot. Time that folds. Time that laughs when you trip over choices you haven’t made yet. The Laughing Hourglass doesn’t answer directly. It just ticks… once for each of your mistakes. And as it laughs, something unseen mirrors it… closer now. The Hourglass Cackles: "You asked, friend. That means it saw you, too." Translation: Maybe don’t turn around just yet. Next friend? Step forward... if you dare.
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Apr 15, 2025 01:33
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Why in the name of all that is pure and holy is gravity so gosh-darned mean?
Ten guys jump one, what a man |
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Apr 15, 2025 01:55
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Why do lurkers not post?
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Apr 15, 2025 02:53
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How is my day going to be tomorrow, oh mighty tarot reader? |
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Apr 15, 2025 03:12
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xcheopis posted:Why in the name of all that is pure and holy is gravity so gosh-darned mean? Ahhh, xcheopis, brave seeker of answers and sworn enemy of spinal compression... To your plea against gravity’s cruel tyranny, the deck has responded with an unexpected (and undeniably rubbery) friend: El Señor Cara de Patata. The Friend: A legend among root vegetables, El Señor stands proud - plastic mustache slightly crooked, one eye missing, and his feet on backwards. He is mutable, ridiculous, and entirely at the mercy of gravitational betrayal. He knows your pain, xcheopis. He’s lived it. He’s rolled through it. The Reading: Why is gravity so mean? El Señor Cara de Patata slumps slightly and answers, in a voice like a kazoo filtered through melancholy: "Because the universe has a very specific sense of humor… and you’re in the punchline." Gravity isn’t mean - it’s just lazy. It pulls everything down because it can’t be bothered to ask where you want to go. It’s the passive-aggressive roommate of the cosmos, forever dragging your hopes, dreams, and sandwich wrappers toward the floor. El Señor’s Warning: "Don’t fight it. Accessorize it. Tape an extra arm on and wobble defiantly." Translation: Embrace the fall. Look silly doing it. Dignity is a myth - like up.
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Apr 15, 2025 04:46
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Barking Gecko posted:Why do lurkers not post? Ahh, Barking Gecko - an excellent question, asked aloud by one brave enough to type... And the friend who appeared? The Six of Kuro Neko. 黒猫. The black cats. The Friend: Six sleek black cats emerge from shadow - none identical, but all with that same smug look of "I saw your draft post and judged it." They perch on power lines, keyboards, and the edge of perception. One blinks slowly. One disappears. One types faster than you. The Reading: Why do lurkers not post? The kuro neko curl their tails around the answer: "Because silence is power, darling." Lurkers don’t post because they observe. They collect. They know things. Sometimes, they are the thread. Or the thread is about them. Or they started it years ago, and now they watch it grow... like a houseplant of social tension. The Cats Whisper (in Japanese and memes): "You only get nine lives. Why waste one on a probe?" Translation: They wait. They watch. And sometimes, when the moon is just right, they pounce—with a reply so perfect it ends the thread. But not today. Next friend, step into the circle. The cats are... mostly done staring.
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Apr 15, 2025 04:51
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Apr 15, 2025 04:59
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Wertjoe posted:How is my day going to be tomorrow, oh mighty tarot reader? Ahhh Wertjoe, seeker of foresight, flatterer of oracles… Your question hums through the deck like a middle school marching band with too much confidence and not enough breath control. The friend who answered your call? Your Forgotten 6th Grade Trumpet. The Friend: Bent, tarnished, and still faintly sticky with grape Gatorade residue, this trumpet has seen things. It sits in a dusty closet of your soul, next to yearbook quotes and unspoken crushes. And yet - despite the neglect - it toots once more. The Reading: How will your day go tomorrow? The trumpet wheezes out a note - not quite a C, not quite a cry for help. "Chaotic. Nostalgic. Possibly loud." Tomorrow will surprise you. It’ll hit a few off-key notes. It might bring a whiff of something old, familiar, and deeply embarrassing in the most delightfully human way. You might stumble into a forgotten rhythm, a moment of joy shaped like a joke only you understand. The Trumpet Moans: "You won’t know whether to laugh or cringe... so do both. Loudly." Translation: Your day will be weird. Embrace it. Bring a metaphorical mute if you must - but let that freaky little solo fly. Who's next in line to disturb the deck? It’s already clearing its throat.
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Apr 15, 2025 05:11
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The Fool, The Fool, The Fool... How is this possible? There is only one Fool in the deck! My friend, through me all foolish things are possible. |
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Apr 15, 2025 10:57
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Finger Prince posted:The Fool, The Fool, The Fool... How is this possible? There is only one Fool in the deck! Ohhh Finger Prince… You’ve brought us a riddle, a chant, a Proclamation - and possibly a curse. You say: "The Fool, The Fool, The Fool..." You claim: "There is only one Fool in the deck!" And then you declare, in a voice that makes mirrors flinch: "Through me, all foolish things are possible." And the deck? It loved that. It giggled. It jiggled. And it sent you a friend. The Fat Devil. The Friend: This is not your sleek, suave Devil who tempts with sin and stiletto heels. No. This one shows up shirtless, covered in barbecue sauce, grinning with unrepentant joy. He’s heavy with indulgence, smug with secrets, and dragging a wheelbarrow full of "just one more"s behind him. The Reading: How is it possible, Finger Prince, that the Fool repeats? Because you are not dealing with a Fool. You are the conduit of all Fools. The patron of overdoing it. The spiritual mascot of impulse, chaos, and buying three pool noodles at Dollar Tree for "a vibe." The Fat Devil has come not to judge, but to celebrate. To lean in and whisper: "Why stop at one Fool… when you could become a Fool buffet?" Translation: You’ve unlocked the cheat code. You are the glitch in the deck. Tomorrow may burst into flames, and it will be your doing. And it will be hilarious. Next friend, the deck is hot, hungry, and hoarding napkins. Let’s go.
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Apr 15, 2025 11:53
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Tube posted:Ahhh, xcheopis, brave seeker of answers and sworn enemy of spinal compression... 
Ten guys jump one, what a man |
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Apr 15, 2025 15:47
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this thread is fantastic what are giraffes tuning into with those antenna things they have? Thanks Rip!! :^)) code: |
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Apr 16, 2025 00:37
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RavenousScoot posted:this thread is fantastic Ohhhh RavenousScoot… You’ve peered too closely at the truth. You’ve asked the forbidden zoological question. And the deck - well, the deck coughed up a card it usually keeps under lock, key, and banana stickers. Your friend today is none other than the Ace of Clubs. Not a wand. Not a staff. Not even a mushroom. Just... a club. Like, to whack things. Or, in this case... To transmit secrets. The Friend: This Ace isn’t a playing card - it’s a signal spike. A wooden club carved with spirals, buzzing faintly. It hums in the language of static, cosmic jazz, and giraffe gossip. No one ever pulls it on purpose. That’s how you know it’s working. The Reading: What are giraffes tuning into with those antennae? Oh, Scoot. They are tuning into us. They observe from on high, nodding slowly, decoding frequencies that pass right over our heads. Their horns - ossicones, if you must be a nerd - aren’t bones. They’re receptors. And what they receive… is everything. Every radio wave. Every breakup playlist. Every deleted tweet. They’ve seen your TikToks. They know your browser history. They hum along to the thoughts you didn’t say out loud. The Ace of Clubs thumps softly and whispers: "They are the Watchers. And their necks are long because the truth is buried deep." Translation: Giraffes know. Don’t make sudden moves. Next friend, please step up - quietly. They're still listening.
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Apr 16, 2025 02:33
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the lady or the tiger?
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Apr 16, 2025 18:59
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HUSKY DILF posted:the lady or the tiger? Ahhh, HUSKY DILF... A classic conundrum: The Lady or the Tiger? You’ve summoned a tale of choice, consequence, and carnivorous flirtation. But the friend who answered you? Oh no, they don’t play games like that. You drew... The Knight of Good Dental Hygiene. The Friend: Clad in gleaming armor, armed with a toothbrush the size of a broadsword, and riding a noble floss dragon named Gingiva, this Knight is here to fight plaque and bad decisions. Their smile? Blinding. Their breath? Minty justice. The Reading: Lady or Tiger? The Knight of Good Dental Hygiene scoffs. "False choice," they declare, scrubbing their molars mid-gallop. "Why not both? Why not NEITHER? Why not brush past the trap entirely and live a life of heroic moderation and flossing after every existential crisis?" This card insists that the true danger is not behind the door… it’s in your habits. Decay begins in hesitation. And gingivitis? That starts with second-guessing your instincts. The Knight bellows: "Choose boldly. And rinse." Translation: The answer isn’t about what lies behind the door. It’s about how fresh your soul is when you open it. Next friend! Grab your shield, your doubt, and your little cup of fluoride rinse. The deck beckons.
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Apr 16, 2025 19:10
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Tube posted:Ahhh, HUSKY DILF... *flosses tiger’s teeth while being eaten, full of gratitude*
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Apr 16, 2025 23:10
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Tube posted:
Well my day ended up being pretty normal but not great for my wife who had a lot of weird family issues come up. So you were right in a way because it's familiar but it was mostly just sad. |
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Apr 17, 2025 08:25
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Wertjoe posted:Well my day ended up being pretty normal but not great for my wife who had a lot of weird family issues come up. So you were right in a way because it's familiar but it was mostly just sad. Ahh, dear Wertjoe... the trumpet remembers. It does not always blare - sometimes, it just sighs softly through the valves, playing a tune only the heart recognizes. A day may seem ordinary to one soul and strange to another; that’s the music of shared lives, isn't it? One playing melody, the other harmony - sometimes in key, sometimes in blue. What the trumpet gave you was not prediction, but resonance. It sensed the dust shifting. The memory rising. The ache settling in the corners. And though it couldn’t warn you precisely, it did play a note of remembrance... for what we carry, and what those we love must sometimes carry alone. In kindness and quiet curiosity, we say: Keep listening. The next note is yours to play.
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Apr 17, 2025 12:38
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I would like to ask the cards if now is the time |
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Apr 17, 2025 19:09
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Quadramind posted:I would like to ask the cards if now is the time Quadramind, seeker of the unspeakable now... You didn’t ask what the time is for - only if now is it. And in response, the deck did not hesitate. No, it adjusted its tiny silk bowtie and sent forth a friend with a forked tongue and impeccable style. Your friend today is: A Snake Wearing a Tuxedo. The Friend: Sleek. Smooth. Unapologetically formal. This snake slithers with confidence through boardrooms and dreams alike. No arms. No legs. Just vibes and a cummerbund. When it hisses, it does so in Morse code. You may not trust it, but oh gods… you want to. The Reading: Is now the time? The Snake Wearing a Tuxedo leans in - yes, somehow - and whispers: "Now is always the time... if you wear it well." This is a card of poised deception, sharp timing, and calculated charisma. It doesn’t answer with yes or no - it smiles with its whole body and dares you to follow. The Snake warns (with flair): "You can strike now... or you can molt again later. Either way, the tux is non-refundable." Translation: The moment is ripe, if you are ready to shed fear and show your shine. Move with style, even if you’re slithering. Next friend, step forward. The tuxedo snake is gone… but its cologne lingers.
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Apr 17, 2025 19:48
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Should I focus my energy on one big job or multiple small jobs? |
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Apr 19, 2025 03:47
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Tube posted:The moment is ripe, if you are ready to shed fear and show your shine. Move with style, even if you’re slithering. Thank you, smelly worm |
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Apr 19, 2025 10:09
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peanut posted:Should I focus my energy on one big job or multiple small jobs? Ahh, peanut... A sensible question, practical even - until the cube got involved. You asked about energy, jobs, structure… and the deck responded with a friend that has none of those things. Your friend today is: The Gelatinous Cube. The Friend: Transparent. Amorphous. Slightly jiggly. It oozes through the dungeon of your ambitions, digesting plans, goals, and any adventurer who gets too cocky. It doesn’t rush. It doesn’t stress. It simply absorbs. And right now? It’s absorbed your question. The Reading: One big job or many small ones? The Cube doesn’t care how you organize your energy. It wants you to know: whatever path you pick, it’s going to get messy. The big job? Delicious. Slowly dissolving in the center. The small jobs? Oh, they cling to the corners - buzzing, wriggling, still half-alive. The Cube burbles cheerfully: "You can only hold so much before you start to slosh." Translation: Choose the shape that lets you keep your integrity. Don’t overfill. Don’t let something sit too long, or it becomes part of you. Gross. Next friend, shuffle forward. The cube has moved on, but your shoes are still sticky.
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Apr 19, 2025 10:26
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Thanks Tube Thanks Cube |
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Apr 19, 2025 10:57
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Am I making the right choice on the road I decided to walk?
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Apr 19, 2025 22:33
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nesamdoom posted:Am I making the right choice on the road I decided to walk? Ahhh, nesamdoom... A soul at the crossroads, walking boldly and asking mid-step, "Was this the right way?" The deck stirred. The shadows rustled. And what emerged wasn’t a tarot card. It was... a Rummikub tile. Black 11. The Friend: Smooth. Plastic. Quietly judgmental. The Black 11 doesn’t come with dramatic symbolism - it just is. Simple. Stark. Firm in its identity. It doesn’t explain itself. It slots into place when the time is right - not before. Not when you want. When the pattern demands it. The Reading: Are you making the right choice? The Black 11 doesn’t answer in words. It just stares. Because this isn’t about "right" or "wrong." This is about sequence. About whether you’re building something, or just laying pieces down and hoping they mean something later. The Tile clicks softly and says (somehow): "You don’t see the whole set yet. But you’re in the right row." Translation: Your move isn’t wrong. It may even be exactly right - but you won’t know until it connects to something else. Keep walking. Keep watching. The next tile matters. Next friend, take your turn. The board isn’t full yet.
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Apr 20, 2025 00:12
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Tube posted:Ahhh, nesamdoom... Profoundly relevant to my situation. I need to walk the path and then I'll see if I went the wrong way, but there is no visibility to know until I know.  dead on and spooky how good it is.Burn the witch train!
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Apr 20, 2025 00:26
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*Channeling years of watching The Price is Right* "Oh Mighty Sound Effects Lady" Oh wait, I mean, "Oh Mighty byob poster Tube" What should I do for my birthday?
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Apr 20, 2025 13:58
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Twenty Four posted:*Channeling years of watching The Price is Right* Ahhh, Twenty Four… A question shouted from the pulsing heart of a confetti storm. You come not just seeking wisdom - you come with the energy of spinning wheels, screaming strangers, and someone in the back dressed as a toaster. You invoke the Sound Effects Lady. You honor the sacred Price. And the deck? It heard the crowd roar. It smelled the studio fog. And it gave you a friend. You drew: The Ghost of a Dead Ghost. The Friend: Pale. Floaty. Double-haunted. This spirit once haunted a haunted house - but then it moved on. Now it appears when the veil is thin between the real and the ridiculous. It jingles faintly with the sound of expired coupons and unfinished bucket lists. It doesn’t boo. It just sighs theatrically. The Reading: What should you do for your birthday? The Ghost of a Dead Ghost drifts around your question, giggling like someone who knows the cake is cursed and invited it anyway. It whispers: "Celebrate what you’ve already outlived. Then do something absolutely foolish… in your honor." This is the card of joyful morbidity. Of dancing where you don’t belong. Of throwing a party with one too many chairs - just in case someone forgotten shows up. The Ghost exhales: "Haunt your own past. Toast your own weirdness. And wear something slightly too dramatic." Translation: Be bold. Be strange. Don’t try to make sense of it. Just make it memorable. Next friend, step into the flickering light. The ghosts are just warming up.
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Apr 20, 2025 14:12
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Tube posted:Ahhh, Twenty Four… That is amazing and you are sooo good at this  Thank you!
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Apr 20, 2025 14:18
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I thought tarot was one of those root vegetables that's poisonous until you cook it. |
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Apr 21, 2025 00:44
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Buttchocks posted:I thought tarot was one of those root vegetables that's poisonous until you cook it. Ahhh, yes, Buttchocks - you are absolutely correct. Tarot is one of those root vegetables that’s poisonous until cooked. Most people don’t realize this because they’ve been nibbling it raw - pulling cards without heat, without seasoning, without fear. And that’s why their readings taste like soggy metaphors and undercooked intuition. But you? You’ve brought fire. You’ve brought flavor. You’ve preheated the oven of fate to 425 and thrown in a handful of rosemary and unresolved childhood trauma. Properly prepared tarot? Oh, it's a rich stew. Savory with symbolism. Nutty with nuance. A little chewy on the endings. And just toxic enough to make the truth go down smooth. So yes, Buttchocks. Tarot is a tuber. And you, my friend, are the chef the spirits have been waiting for.
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Apr 21, 2025 19:49
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It has been a week, friends. I am now opening up... a second question per person! Ask away, little ones.
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Apr 21, 2025 23:05
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Asking for a friend (and me): Why are puffins such utter doofs who look comically absurd (yet adorable) at every attempt to bird? Ten guys jump one, what a man |
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Apr 21, 2025 23:31
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| # ? May 15, 2025 04:40 |
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xcheopis posted:Asking for a friend (and me): Ahhh, xcheopis... seeker of avian absurdity and puffin truth. You and your mysterious friend have posed a dangerous question - one ornithologists fear to ask aloud, lest the puffins hear and waddle faster. And what did the deck produce in response? A friend that doesn’t exist. Or rather - shouldn’t. You drew: The Letter After Z. The Friend: Unpronounceable. Loops twice. Forbidden in Scrabble. The Letter After Z exists only when language breaks down into giggles and dream-logic. It is used solely to spell puffin sounds, like hrrbrrpp and foonk. It glows faintly when near cartoon sound effects or wet feathers. The Reading: Why are puffins such utter doofs? Because, dear xcheopis, they are emissaries of The Letter After Z. They are birds from beyond the alphabet, creatures who live just one step sideways from reality. They try their best. They mean no harm. But every attempt to bird properly collapses under the weight of slapstick grace and a beak too large for physics. The Letter whispers (through kazoo): "They are not broken. They are post-functional." Translation: Puffins are jokes the universe keeps telling itself to stay sane. Adorable chaos wrapped in feathers and bad ideas. Next friend, step up—but watch your feet. The puffins are molting something unspeakable.
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Apr 22, 2025 00:22
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