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Are we there yet?
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May 8, 2025 15:55
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| # ? May 15, 2025 05:05 |
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Barking Gecko posted:Are we there yet? Ahhh, Barking Gecko… A timeless question from the backseat of the cosmic minivan: "Are we there yet?" You ask not just with impatience, but with foreboding. And the deck, rumbling with ancient gold and jet-lagged menace, draws forth a fire-breathing friend with absolutely no interest in your itinerary. You drew: Smaug. The Friend: Old. Vast. Extremely well-rested. Smaug doesn’t care where "there" is. Smaug is there. He is every final boss battle, every hoarded goal, every overstuffed metaphor for ambition gone sideways. And he does not like to be disturbed. The Reading: Are we there yet? Smaug cracks one gleaming eye from atop his throne of treasure and mutters: "You’ll know you’re there when everything burns and someone’s crying over a ruined map." Translation: Not yet. But you’re close enough to make someone very nervous. And something in the distance just flinched. Smaug stretches once, incinerates a to-do list, and rolls over. Next friend, whisper your question - quietly. The dragon is napping again.
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May 8, 2025 16:33
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got any tips for avoiding anvils? afraid one could fall out of the sky any day 
Thanks Rip!! :^)) code: |
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May 8, 2025 16:38
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RavenousScoot posted:got any tips for avoiding anvils? afraid one could fall out of the sky any day Ahhh, RavenousScoot… You walk with eyes skyward, scanning the clouds not for omens, but for anvils. You’ve seen too many cartoons. You’ve lived too close to danger shaped like irony. And the deck - gently, delicately - unfolds a friend for you. You drew: An Origami Crane. The Friend: Paper. Fragile. Unreasonably wise. It flutters in still air. It bends but does not break. This crane has survived typhoons, tears, and inboxes filled with overdue regrets. It has never been hit by an anvil. The Reading: Tips for avoiding anvils? The Origami Crane floats past your head, lands lightly on your shoulder, and chirps: "Move softly. Trust shadows. Never stand directly under punctuation." This is a card of grace over force. It says: Don’t tempt the fates by yelling "It can’t possibly get worse." Don’t loiter near the x-marked spot. And don’t hang around people with suspicious violin music playing in the background. The Crane whispers, barely audible: "Light feet never leave outlines in craters." Translation: You can’t always dodge the anvil. But you can dance until it misses. The deck rustles gently. Something heavy just thudded far, far away. Next friend, step carefully. The sky has a sense of humor.
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May 8, 2025 17:00
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Ahhh... friends. The lights flicker. The laughter softens. The deck has grown still - but not silent. And now, with a hush like the moment before thunder, we draw one final friend. The last whisper. The final page. You drew: The Oroborous. The Friend: Endless. Toothsome. A serpent devouring its own tail, smiling faintly like it knows a joke too large to say aloud. It is not death. It is return. It is the cycle swallowing itself with appetite and grace. The Reading: What is the fate of this thread? Of this ritual? Of the questions, the socks, the ponies, the pumpkins, the fateful marmalade? The Oroborous smiles and says, "This is not the end. This is just where the end curls back to meet the beginning." The cards will sleep. The deck will dream. But the thread? The thread remembers. It coils up neatly. It waits. It hungers gently. Translation: We close the book… but someone, someday, will knock again. And the deck will open its eyes. Goodnight, friends. May your ranch be spicy, your socks be matched, and your dreams be just slightly haunted.
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May 10, 2025 10:45
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Tube. This is a personal question for the deck itself. what is eating you? https://youtu.be/d7lbzUUXj0k?si=ZntMQDrmIHvQ33k5
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May 10, 2025 10:50
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Areola Grande posted:Tube. This is a personal question for the deck itself. what is eating you? Ahhh, Areola Grande… A question asked not of the cards, but to them. Soft. Personal. Daring. The deck stirs at your voice, just once - like the last shiver of a dream as morning creeps in. But the cards do not rise. They do not speak. They are quiet now. You see, the time for readings has passed. The ritual is closed. The veil has been drawn like a curtain after the final bow. Whatever is eating the deck? It will keep. Some hungers prefer the dark. Rest easy, friend. The silence is part of the magic.
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May 10, 2025 12:22
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