#Antique Sterling Silver Tea Set

[gruesomejack]

"How'd the collar hold up?"

Andy turned his head and lifted thick brows, his face warming. Shoving the little vial and tea he'd been handed in his bag, he let out a breathy laugh and offered half a shrug. "Got called a dumbass for it. It was... for the werewolf."

Emile smiled and propped an elbow on the table, letting his eyes wander over the young man. "I gathered as much." He drawled, "You should've said somethin' in the first place. I carry better pieces."

Blinking, Andy held onto the strap of his backpack and parted his lips. "That wasn't a good piece? I'd probably be blown away by anything better then" He said and offered the man an easy grin, "No... I- I don't think he's into it. It was sort of a joke."

Emile hummed and wiggled his fingers a little, his own smile spreading. "Could be serious if you brought him the right thing. -- Unless I'm readin' somethin' here wrong!" He ammended, "Wouldn't be the first time." Before Andy could answer, he pulled a case up to the table and undid the latches. From inside, he pulled out a blue-stained leather choker with a sterling chain and ring hanging from the front, the kind that cinched when you tugged. "What do you think?"

Andy warmed further, looking from the necklace back to the man holding it. Alex would stab him. And yet, his hands were out to take it, pulling it close and admiring the detail. There was silver stitching in the shape of ivy on the perimeter that reminded him of the other man behind the table; dressed up and elegant. Andy gave the chain a gentle tug and immediately started to giggle nervously. "Is that-"

"Solid sterlin'. A little delicate, but not to his type." Emile answered with a grin, "Now, that's not for restrainin' him. That won't work for that."

Oh god. Andy felt his ears heat up. "Then it's for-"

"You got it." Tapping his nose, he pointed at Andy and smirked. "You'd have to talk to someone else if you wanted somethin' stronger. I don't do that kinda work anymore."

Brows furrowing, he quieted. Andy looked at Will before glancing back at Emile and frowning. "Hunting, you mean? You hunted?"

The vampire leaned back in his seat and scratched at one of the scars on his cheek. "Once upon a nighttime. I'm a vet now, so if your buddy needs a rabies shot or a gland squeezin', I'm your guy."

Andy moved to set the collar back down, but was stopped by the man's work-worn hands. Calluses lined his fingers, but his nails were clean and filed, short and sharp. It was strange, but so were the two that ran the booth in general. Bizarre, weird, queer-- None of those words really encapsulated their essence.

"Keep it. I can make another." Emile smiled again and pat the boy on the wrist, "We're not really here for the money."

Glancing over at Will, he got the same sort of well-meaning smile from him that was as eerie as it was comforting. Despite their appearance, they had an air of antiquity that was hard to shake. "Can I... ask a rude question?"

Emile snorted and sat back up. "I bet I can answer it before you ask." He told him and gave a little shake to his hands. Watching Andy's brows lift, he grinned again. "We've been together almost a hundred and fifty years." He said, "And that's not an exaggeration by any means."

Andy's eyes widened. That gave him practically all he needed to know. "Uh... Thank you." He got out and dropped the collar in his bag with the tea. "I-I'll be back again, I promise!"

[happyjoyisfree]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Antique Sterling Silver Ice Tea Straw Spoons (6) 😮.

[nikkomeow1]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Antique Silver Tea Pot and coffee Pot please read the description.

[everlarkxevermore]

$195.0 ~ SET OF 9 WALLACE STERLING SILVER ICED TEA SPOON STRAWS WITH HEART SHAPED BOWL, Antique Flatware, Silver Flatware, Sterling Silver Flatware, Antique Silver Flatware, Antique Sterling Flatware, US Silver Flatware, US Sterling Flatware, Sterling Flatware Find Out This Antique Flatware

[mrsterlingusa]

Red, White, and Blue

This 4th of July table setting features blue and white Chinese export porcelain. I inherited the Serenity pattern  sterling silver from my grandmother. The red rose is Chrysler Imperial. A crisply ironed red bandana serves as a whimsical napkin.

[estatesilver]

Look at this on eBay

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife For Thor Pt.01

10/12/2020

Arrivals and Departures

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 6,990

Warnings: language, talks of death, angst, talks of sex,

A/N: This is seriously...I mean, I don’t even know where this came from. Credits to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​ because Roo gave me the idea and I kinda ran with it. Like omg, y’all. Blame Roo. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo Dialogue from Thor Ragnarok has been used in the beginning of this story.

Please do not REPOST my stories anywhere. Reblogs are most welcome!

He stands with his arms crossed in what appears to be a small sitting room with a large window that opens to the sublime sight of the black space beyond. Sterling silver, radiant red, and brilliant blue stars twinkle into infinity.

This is a sight that Thor had seen many times before and yet, for the first time in an age, he felt hopeful for the future.

His fight had ended. With Ragnarok, his journey had reached an end. Not the end, but certainly that of a chapter I which his battles might rest.

He imagines that this might be how his father felt when he had taken charge of the nine realms.

However violent that takeover might have been, his father had lied about many things—his sister for one—it had been the beginning of a quieter reign. A new formative time for his father. He may not have been a perfect man, but he’d grown wiser in many ways. Still not the best father, but his father, nonetheless.

Thor can almost picture his life on Earth, a time of peace. A time to rebuild. He will be able to give his people a good life there and he’s certain that his friends will appreciate having him closer. Friends from work they may be, but friends.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to go back to Earth?” Loki asks, standing beside him with his hands held gently at his front.

Thor looks at him, waiting a moment to allow him to finish speaking.

“Yes, of course.” Thor assures him. “The people of Earth love me. I’m very popular.”

Loki takes a breath, looking out the window as he quickly accepts his brother’s reasoning while simultaneously realizing he must word this differently to get his point across.

“Let me rephrase that.” Loki begins, “Do you really think it’s a good idea to bring me back to Earth?”

Thor knows that Loki has a point. His history with Earth is…not perfect. To say the least.

“Probably not, to be honest.” He admits, noting Loki’s apprehension.

Loki smiles, a little knowing.

“I wouldn’t worry, brother.” Thor tells him, both turning back to the void outside. “I feel like everything’s going to work out fine.”

The moment seems endless, the two of them waiting as if the something should or might happen after Thor’s optimistic sentiments.

Then the moment passes and Loki sighs.

“Right, well, I’ll start rounding up the people who will be of the most use once we arrive.”

Thor gives his brother one parting smile but doesn’t watch him leave.

Thor doesn’t know exactly what has changed in him, what makes him so confident in this decision, but he knows it’s the best decision he could have made. And if he’s honest, though he’d never admit it out loud, the possibility of finally being on the same planet as Jane…well, he’d be a fool not to consider the possibilities.

~~~~~~~~~~

Something feels different today.

As you wake, turning onto your side to stare across the small room at the blinking line on the blank word document on your computer screen, you can’t quite put your finger on what is making you nervous.

Your stomach is rolling, making you queasy, despite the fact that you have no reason to be anxious.

Yesterday was like the day before and today will be just like yesterday. Nothing in your life ever changes, and that’s become so much of who you are that whenever you have even a doctor’s appointment your heart begins to race in dreaded anticipation.

With trembling hands you clutch your blanket, trying to find a reason behind this mood. Your breath quickens as your heart panics, your mind scrambling to make sense of these emotions but nothing comes to mind.

So, you get out of bed. You get dressed choosing a simple knee length black dress that fits loose enough to keep you comfortable throughout the day. Then you head into the kitchen and start the coffee pot.

Halfway through the brew you shut the machine off and rush to dump out its contents into the sink.

“Fuck.”

You sigh, realizing you should really invest in decaf coffee for morning just like this.

“Tea. Tea is better.” You rationalize and pull your kettle off the warmer and fill it in the sink.

You replace it in its dock then turn your back to it, hands gripping the edge of the counter as you lean against it.

Your fingers stroke the smooth and unvarnished wooden countertop, suddenly going rigid around the lip as your heart goes frantic again.

The island counter directly in front of you is made of the same unvarnished wood, a slightly mismatched chair on the other side, tucked in beside the open shelving that holds your pots and pans. Along the center of the island sits a small vase with nearly completely withered flowers.

You’re filled with relief as your hands are given new task and you hurry forward and take the clear glass vase, toss the flowers—which crumble as they hit yesterday’s empty cereal box—dump the water in the sink and quickly refill it.

Setting the vase aside, you pull open a drawer and pluck from an array of contents a small packet of flower food, a pair of small pruners, a long piece of twine, and head out the back door to your modest backyard.

There isn’t much in it, and it’s unfenced. A large tree at the back-left corner provides shade and pecans. In the center of the yard sits a set of antique iron work garden furniture. Twisted and shaped into what reminds you of lace. Two smaller chairs and one long bench with curved backs.

You’ve been of a mind to buy cushions for them, but you haven’t found an excuse to justify the expense.

In between the garden set sits an outdoor coffee table made of wood and painted white. It’s fading and will need a new coat soon but again the expense can wait. At least until you sell another story.

Apart from this set and a small wooden shed beside the pecan tree, your yard is mostly overgrown grass and carefully cultivated flowers lining the length of your narrow back porch.

You smile, noticing the length of your grass, grateful for another something to keep you busy today. Something to keep your mind off this mysterious and anxious premonition of something to come.

Quickly you move to a large blooming bush at the end of your porch and cut from it several bunches of pink and blue garden phlox.

You admire the shade of the blue flowers. The color reminds you a pair of blue eyes you’d once seen on a woman who’d come to your school as a child.

She’d been beautiful and kind, but she hadn’t picked you. Still, you’d never forgotten the color of her eyes.

The pink is pastel at the edges of its petals and vibrant magenta at the center.

As you head back in, the kettle only barely beginning to steam, you quickly arrange the bunches you’ve picked and wrap them up with the twine. You set the bushel aside and with the vase pulled close, you tear the packet of flower food with your teeth and pour it in.

Replacing the flowers, you give the kettle one more look before you race back into your bedroom to pick out a more appropriate outfit for cutting the grass.

You decide on a pair of jeans and a plain yellow t-shirt. Pulling them on, you pause with your shirt hooked around your arms as your eyes find your laptop screen, annoyingly black still.

With a groan you pull your shirt on and from the kitchen you hear the whistle.

Breakfast is simple. A store-bought muffin and a cup of breakfast tea do the trick and while you’re still chewing your last bite you head out to cut your grass.

It doesn’t take you too long and you lament the last bit as you cut it, the machine vibrating violently in your nervous grip.

No matter how much you try to distract yourself, this feeling of something terrible coming will not go away and you’re about to go out of your mind when a shout from your back door pulls your mind from it.

Standing there is an older man with an unconventionally handsome face. His lips are thin, cheekbones prominent, brown eyes sunken, and his nose long and defined. His dark hair slicked and parted, neatly kept to match his crisp navy suit.

“Aren’t you a little overdressed?” You shout at him as the whirr of the machine dies into silence.

The man moves towards you, a smile brightening his face.

“I was just at a meeting.” He explains.

“Do you ever stop working?” You wonder, pushing the lawn mower towards the shed as he follows.

“Only when I’m on vacation.” He tells you, amusement in his voice but subdued and you only hear it because you’ve known him for years.

“You don’t take vacations.” You sputter, almost laughing.

“Precisely.” He agrees.

He waits for you to shut the door and when you turn, he greets you with open arms.

“How have you been?” He asks, holding the hug for longer than you’re used to which only adds to the anxiety you’ve been feeling all morning.

What’s going on?!

“Hey, you okay?” You ask him, ignoring his question in favor of satisfying your curiosity.

He doesn’t answer but holds the hug a moment longer before pulling back to look at you.

“We have to talk.” He tells you, making your heart pound.

“Okay. You want some breakfast?” You offer, and swallow hard as your fear mounts.

“Sure.” He says and follows you inside.

You make him a full breakfast. Eggs, bacon, breakfast sausage, and buttered toast with a cup of coffee. Just because you can’t stand the idea of being hyped up on caffeine today doesn’t mean David won’t.

He digs right in while you stand on the other side of the island, sipping on your second cup of tea in hopes that it will ease your frayed nerves.

For a few minutes he gobbles down your food but when you shift on your feet for the fourth time, he clears his throat, takes a drink of his coffee, then puts his fork down.

“It’s not exactly bad news.” He assures you, easing you a little but something tells you that you still won’t like it.

“Just tell me, David.”

“As your lawyer,” He begins, sitting back in your old wobbly chair. “It’s my duty to inform you when there are developments with your family’s estate.”

“Right.” You agree, remembering the day he’d found you when you’d turned eighteen to tell you that you weren’t exactly as poor as you’d thought.

You’re not really rich either. You have a little money that your parents set aside for you. Old money that you hadn’t really touched. You use it mostly for bills when you can’t sell a story fast enough and most of your wealth is in this cottage. A family home that you’d had no idea was yours until David brought you here.

Finally, a home, after living in that school all those years.

“Well, I think it might be time to reveal a little more of that estate’s history.”

“Why?” You put down the floral porcelain cup and wrap your arms around yourself, afraid of what he’ll say.

How did you know that something was coming? What kind of sixth sense do you have?!

“After all this time, why would it matter?” You sigh, moving to pull out the second chair to his right on the shorter end of the island.

“Don’t panic.” He tells you, reaching over to place his hand over yours. “Let’s keep our heads. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“You say that, but why do I feel like that’s not exactly true?” You sigh.

He blinks, gathering his thoughts before he nods.

“I think I’ll tell you all at once. Like ripping a band-aid. Might be the easiest for you.” He realizes.

You don’t disagree.

“Your family comes from a very small people in Europe. Their origins are hard to trace but we know that they travelled between France, Norway, Denmark, Romania, Belgium, Sweden, Austria, Greece, and even spent a large amount of time in hiding in the United Kingdom.”

“I get it, they were nomads.” You sigh, your mood taking a turn from the anticipation of clarity.

“Yes. Nomads.” David agrees, patting your hand in an attempt to calm you. “I only mention it because there are many questions as to where they had originated from. No one seems to know. Unfortunately, I don’t think that question will ever be answered as all records before their stint in France have been lost.

“What we do know is that your ancestors, your bloodline are royalty.” David says, as easily as if he were telling you your age. “Even though the titles have long since been lost, you are technically—though you have no country to rule over—a princess.”

Slowly his words sink in and your face begins to relax. You look down at his hand over yours and without warning you laugh once. Then again, and again, until you’re leaning on your chair, head thrown back as your whole body shakes with it.

“What is so funny?” David asks, unamused but he goes back to eating.

“This is a joke, right? You’re pulling my leg.” You gasp, breath shallow.

“Not one little bit.” He shakes his head. “If we knew what country your ancestors came from, you would very much be in some palace or castle, reigning over your people. Your parents, were they alive, would have been King and Queen.

“You may not think it possible, but that is your legacy, Y/N. You are of royal blood.” David insists which sobers you a little, but you think it’s so silly that this is what you’d been so scared of.

This is what you’d been dreading?

“Okay. Fine. I believe you. But what does it matter? You said that if I still had a country then I would be princess, but clearly, I don’t. So, I’m not. What’s the point of telling me this when it makes absolutely no difference to my life?

“I don’t feel any different and it’s not like that makes me any richer? I’m still sitting on a decently sized fortune to assure that I don’t want for anything at least until my forties. What could this possibly change that you felt it necessary to tell me?”

David wipes his mouth with his napkin, finishing up the last bit of his coffee before he gets up and with his dirty plates moves towards the sink.

“Leave it, David. I’ll clean up later.” You watch him, sitting up a little straighter as that anxious feeling begins to grow again with his extended silence.

He washes the plate and as he does, your nerves begin to fray again. You anxiously pick at a small splinter in your island, waiting for him to speak.

He turns towards you as he finished washing his plate, then meets your eyes.

“You weren’t just revealing my heritage, were you?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I felt I needed to reveal your heritage because someone has reached out with the hopes of setting up a meeting with you.”

“Why would anyone wanna meet with me simply because they know of my lineage?” You wonder, slouched, hands moved to your lap to rest limply as you stare at David, fear increasing with every moment that passes.

“May I ask you a personal question?” He says, moving to stand closer as he dries his hand on your dishtowel.

“David, you know everything about me.” You sigh.

“Why haven’t you ever had a boyfriend? Or girlfriend? I’m not sure I’ve ever asked if you-?”

“To be honest, I don’t know either.” You shrug. “I’ve never really thought about it.”

“Not even as a child?” He wonders.

“I was too busy wishing for parents as a kid.” You clarify. “I didn’t have time for crushes or any of that stuff.”

“Are you opposed to a relationship?” David asks, dropping the towel then moving around to sit back down in his seat.

“Opposed?” You ask, shaking your head. “Not exactly opposed. I’ve just never known anyone worth caring about like that. I’m mainly here at home. I do go into town when I need to get my packages but there isn’t anyone there that…I don’t draw attention like that.”

“You’re a pretty girl.” David tells you, reaching over to tug on your sleeve. “When you aren’t sweaty and covered in grass clippings.”

You scoff, shaking your head.

“It’s not something I really worry about.” You admit.

“Would you ever want to get married?” David asks, and your heart is suddenly pounding.

The idea of being someone’s wife had crossed your mind once or twice. Mostly when you’d been jotting down ideas or plotlines for your books. In the end, because you didn’t think you had enough insight, you’d opted to remove all romance. You write mysteries.

“I don’t know that I’d be any good at it.” You confess. “I’m not…I can’t exactly picture myself being someone’s wife.”

“Why not?”

“Because I…I don’t even know what I’d be like in a relationship, sharing space and time, much less sharing an entire life?” You shake your head. “I’m not saying that I haven’t thought about it but it’s only ever been in passing.”

David goes silent, tapping his index finger against the island.

“David, please. You know I can’t take the suspense.” You plead.

“Yes. I’m sorry.” He nods then reminds himself, “Band-aid.”

You take a deep breath and turn to face him a little more in your seat.

“Well, you are aware of our planet’s newest inhabitants?”

“Th-The Asgardians in Norway?”

“Yes.” David nods. “Well, as a sign of good faith, to ensure that they will abide by Earth’s laws and to assuage any ideas from panicked world leaders that they might try and overtake the planet and make it their own, they have decided that marriage to someone from Earth might be the best way to do that.

“The Asgardian known as Brunnhilde has reached out to all families of royal blood and asked to meet with any eligible women, preferably—as she so tactfully put it—maidens.” He explains. “Which I take it you are?”

You swallow hard, your lungs rubbed of oxygen and yet you somehow manage to quietly acknowledge, “Yes. I’m a virgin.”

How can you not be after spending your whole life unconcerned with romance?

“You don’t have to do it, Y/N.” David suddenly says; however, you can see the ‘but’ in his eyes. “But if you don’t and the Asgardian king cannot choose from the women he does meet, you will probably be hunted down and forced to meet with him anyway.

“All world leaders are in agreement that this is the correct and only way to ensure the safety of the planet. They will not give up until every woman meeting the Asgardian’s requirements have been given the chance to meet with Thor.”

“Thor?!” You gasp, rising to your feet as hundreds if not thousands of images flash through your mind of the Thunder God and the Avengers fighting side by side.

“Yes.” David affirms, rising to his feet with you. “With the death of his father, he is now King of Asgard.”

Of course, Thor is going to be King. You already knew this. It’s common sense.

For some reason though, the confirmation made out loud, vocally…how the fuck are you supposed to marry Thor? An Avenger? That’s not…this cannot be real life!

“David,” You begin, apprehensive.

“I know. I know it is a lot to ask but as I said, I don’t believe we have much of a choice. He might very well not pick you.” David adds, rushing to comfort you and point out how unlikely you’d be the one Thor chooses to wed. “There are plenty of other women that he’s already met with. Women that are more suited to life in a palace than you are. The Hungarian princess is so eager to be Queen of Asgard that she’s been sending the other women bribes to try and convince them to refuse.

“It won’t make a difference, since they cannot refuse should Thor choose them.” David admits.

“A-all I have to do is meet with him?” You stutter, heart in your throat.

“Just a quick one-hour meeting. He’ll ask you questions. Get to know a bit about you. See if you are suited for life as Asgardian queen and then it’s over.” David assures you.

“I’m…There are lots of other women better for it, right?”

“Loads of them.” David promises.

New fears begin to take hold in your heart and mind.

It conjures up the last time you’d seen Thor, strutting from a massive spaceship docked over the ocean by New Asgard. He’d risen from its depths all wide shoulders and biceps. Heavy steps thudding as he’d stopped at the end of the massive ramp, waving at the cameras as his people had filed out behind him.

His hair cropped short as opposed to the long tresses he’d had when he’d last been on Earth, one eye missing with a sleek black and gold metal patch over it the absence.

You’ve never been threatened by him before. He’s a hero. But the prospect of being his wife and having wifely duties...

Your mind flies into panic as it shifts that large body over you, crawling towards you with his hands prying your legs open. The years of sexual experience radiating off of this fantasy Thor and all of his bulging muscles.

You almost want to throw up at the prospect of having to consummate a marriage. You haven’t exactly been eager to be with anyone since you haven’t met anyone special, but you’d at least imagined something more intimate. More personal.

“David I-they won’t choose me though, right?” You reach out for him because your legs are suddenly weak.

He takes hold of your arms and helps you stand still.

“They won’t.” He tells you, sounding convinced. “There are better candidates. Women with actual titles.”

He’s right. Of course, he’s right. He has to be right.

“It’s just a quick meeting.” He promises. “Then it’ll all be over, and you can come back to your cottage and live just as you have been, with no one to bother you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Leaving your little place is difficult. After spending years without a home to call your own, now that you have your cottage, tearing yourself away from it is like pulling splinters.

You like your little yard. You like your flowers. You love your bed and its white sheets, little pink and yellow flowers printed on the soft fabric.

You’d made it more feminine. You’d brought flowers back and frills and lace. You’d made it everything you thought a cottage at the edge of a wood should look like and as time had gone by you’d brought in more personal touches.

After several years, your home is finally completely you.

This place, this massive Asgardian structure is less gold and more wood, stone, and iron. Silver steel polished so bright it gleams even in moonlight. This place is not you. It’s him. It’s Thor. His home.

Right now, with the day almost over, the palace takes on a warmer tone. The wooden structures and gray stone pillars are bathed in orange light, giving the place a pleasant glow and despite yourself, you can almost picture Thor meandering through these Nordic halls, a long crimson robe around his thick form.

It isn’t an unpleasant image now that you’ve given yourself some time to get used to the idea of him.

When you arrived you were greeted and seated in a large round room, the lower quarter of the sturdy walls made of ornate stone brick, the rest of the wall beautiful dark oak. The floor is also stone, massive carpets underneath several pieces of obviously Norse inspired furniture.

Well actually, the Norse was probably derived from Asgardian styles. There’s a difference in them that you can see but don’t understand. The coffee table in front of you has ornately carved legs, golden embellishments, and a black coat of paint.

The sofa you’re sitting on is mostly wood, painted gold, with plush and soft satin covered cushions in wine red.

There are two other tables around the room, a collection of books on one and an array of fruits, foods, and drinks on the other. There are several different statues and stands. Lamps that look as if they should have flames instead of the electric bulbs they now hold.

Small touches of modern design filter through the room complimenting the more traditional décor.

“Hello there.” Says a lilting voice.

You recognize it and turn to find Loki, slipping through a narrow opening in the large set of doors you’d been escorted through almost half an hour ago.

He’s dressed in a black suit with a plain white t-shirt underneath dressing the look down.

“H-Hi.” You stammer, surprised by his appearance.

You stand, knowing well that he may not be King but for Asgard, Loki is still a prince.

“No, please. Do not get up on my account.” He gestures at your seat and you settle back in as he crosses to the table with all the books. “I forgot some papers in here, I only came to retrieve them. Do not mind me.”

You avert your eyes, afraid to see something you shouldn’t and sit just as stiffly as before, hands fisting the royal purple dress you’d chosen to wear. It’s simple, quarter sleeves, high neckline with a small V at the center. Just above your knees in length, it rises as you grip it.

“Nervous to meet my brother?” Loki asks, stopping by the doors as he eyes your tight grip.

“This whole situation is a little stressful.” You admit. “I’m…I live in a small house in the middle of nowhere. I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“Ah, you’re the one with the lost lineage.” Loki realizes, moving closer with interest. “A hidden princess. You could have refused to come, you know?”

“I would have been forced eventually.” You point out. “There are a lot of people who want this marriage thing to happen.”

“True.” Loki agrees, “My fault, I’m afraid. I make them nervous.”

“You did very nearly destroy New York.” You point out, remembering the carnage reported that day. The aftermath had taken forever to clean up.

“I did.” Loki agrees. “Do you fear me?”

“No.” You admit. “If you weren’t safe, Thor wouldn’t have brought you back here.”

“He could just be too trusting.”

“Maybe.” You agree. “But with the fate of his entire people tied to the successful acclimation of Asgard and Earth, if you were really a threat, I think he’d have cut you out before coming back.”

Loki’s lips slowly curl up into a smile before breaking apart into a toothy grin.

“What is your name again?” He asks, a sparkle of something in his eyes.

“Y/N.” You tell him. “Why?”

“No reason. This has been very illuminating, Y/N. It was lovely to meet you.” Loki says then with a quick bow of his head, he leaves you to your solitude.

Confused, you sit there completely at a loss for what just happened.

Had you taken too many liberties with Loki? What had that smile meant? You’d been made aware that Loki was also involved in recruiting women of royal blood into marriage meetings for Thor, but you hadn’t expected him to know you by the description of where you live.

Maybe because it’s so unlike anyone else’s?

You sit there stewing for another twenty minutes, wondering if maybe you’re being stood up when the large doors open once again.

You shoot up onto your feet, so damn nervous your body reacts without your permission. Through the door this time comes the man of the hour. The massive Thunder God dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a plain gray t-shirt crosses over to the table with food and pours himself a stein of what looks like beer from a sloshing brown pitcher.

“Estrid, is this from the new batch of ale?” He booms loud enough that he can be heard even outside of the room as he takes a quick sniff of the liquid.

His voice is so deep.

Licking your lips, you watch him drink the entire stein without taking a breath or waiting for an answer, and then refill it before grabbing it and taking an apple with his other hand.

He turns, holding the fruit up to his mouth and freezes with it pressed to his lips as he meets your eyes, realizing he isn’t alone.

You’re not exactly sure what to say or what to do, completely taken aback by this strange and sudden exposure to candid Thor. Both of you unprepared to see each other despite the fact that you’ve literally been waiting nearly an hour for him.

His confusion mounts as he lowers the apple, looking around as if expecting an explanation or to see if he’s in the correct room.

“What time is it?” He suddenly asks, meeting your gaze again.

“N-Nearly six.” You tell him, and his one good eye goes slightly wide.

“Oh!” His lips curl up into an easy smile. “I did not think it was that late.”

His smile makes you feel a little more at ease, but you’re still on edge.

“You’re my meeting.” He tells you, as if you don’t already know that. “Y/N? Y/L/N, right?”

“Yes.” You nod, then before you can stop yourself… “You’re late.”

Thor blinks. Startled it seems or maybe just surprised, but then he smiles again. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“I mean, you can be as late as you’d like. This is your meeting. Sorry. I didn’t…I don’t know why I said that.” You rush to say.

“No, no.” Thor turns to put down his stein of beer and the apple replaced in its bowl. “You’re right. I am late. We were supposed to meet at five, weren’t we?”

When he turns back to you, you nod.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure you have much you could be doing.” Thor says, moving towards you and gesturing at the spot you’d been in before sitting down at the other end of the sofa.

“No.” You confess. “Not really. I’m actually one of the only people that probably doesn’t have much to do. Well, I mean, I could be writing. Or cleaning house.”

“They tell me that you had no knowledge about your lineage before Brunnhilde reached out to your lawyer?”

You nod. “It’s not really important. Or…no. That’s not the right-what I mean to say is that it isn’t significant to my life.”

“Don’t you want to know who your family is?” Thor wonders.

“I know who my family is. I had a mom. And a dad. Both died just after I was born. That’s my family.” You explain. “Apart from getting to meet you, the news that my family was once royalty doesn’t change it in any way. I’m still just as insignificant today as I was before.”

Thor narrows his brow, watching you for a long torturous moment as he considers what you’d just said.

“Tell me about yourself.” He suddenly says, turning to lean back against the arm, his own thrown over the back, right leg bent up onto the sofa.

“There isn’t much to tell.” You admit. “I was born, my parents died in an accident. I was taken to a school for orphans where I grew up and aged out. On the day I had to leave, Mr. Valis found me and gave me my inheritance which is a good amount of money and a small house. I’ve been living there ever since.”

“You didn’t take any additional schooling?” Thor asks, relaxing. “All the other young women I’ve met have made it a point to tell me about the universities and colleges they’ve attended.”

“I took a few correspondence classes.” You tell him, “But I’ve only ever wanted to write, and I didn’t feel that I needed a higher education to do it. I mean, it would probably look better on my resume, but my writing should speak for itself.”

You can’t really tell what he’s thinking with the way he’s watching you, his hand playing with a thread on the back of the sofa.

You take it as a good sign that many of the other women have a degree of some sort. They must want someone respectable with a good education, right?

“How do you feel about political marriages?” He asks, and you’re stunned for a moment.

“Um…”

“Be honest, please.”

“I guess I don’t like the idea?” You admit. “Being forced to marry someone you don’t love because duty demands it? Feels archaic. If you love someone, whether they fit into whatever political standards are being demanded or not should not be a reason to get married.”

Thor sits up, shifting a little closer as he leans towards you.

“If you were asked to go along with a political marriage in every way but the heart, could you?” He wonders, much more interested than before.

“What do you mean?” You ask, confused.

“Well, let’s say for example, you and I were to marry. We’d be expected to have children. You’d be bound to do your duties as Queen of Asgard, but you would not be required to love me. Would you be able to fulfill these requirements?”

“You don’t want to do this, do you?” You realize, seeing the eagerness in his eyes. His shoulders slump. “If you don’t want to get married, why don’t you just say something?”

“I must do what I can to ensure the future of my people.” Thor says, sighing deeply.

“I’m guessing there’s someone else you do love that you can’t marry?”

“Not that I can’t but won’t. She isn’t ready for marriage and I don’t feel right making that kind of demand from her when she clearly has other things she’d like to be doing with her life. And…yes, maybe a little bit can’t. A royal marriage would make the most sense. I need a Queen.” Thor says.

You can’t find the words to tell him how fucked up this all is so instead you sit in silence.

“I know this is not ideal. I’ve tried to find other ways of assuring Earth of my commitment to this planet but nothing I’ve suggested is good enough.”

He needs a Queen. This gives you solace. No one is less of a queen than you are.

“I’m sorry.” You finally tell him. “It’s not fair. But I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone who checks all those boxes for you. I hear the Hungarian princess is pretty eager.”

Thor ignores you, stroking his beard as he watches you. “What do you want from a marriage? Let us say it’s many years from now and you have found someone you love beyond all reason. You two decide to get married. What does that look like?”

You’re a little surprised by the question but you humor him and take a moment to really think about it.

The man you picture has no face. There is no one you care enough about to imagine. So…because he’s the only option, you take Thor’s face and give your imaginary husband a face.

“We’d be partners.” You tell him. “Open about everything important. We would respect each other’s individualities. If something is troubling me, I would like to know that I could turn to him and if he had something on his mind, I’d hope that he could turn to me too.

“We’d be honest about even the unpleasant aspects of our life together. If we disagreed, we would talk about it openly. We wouldn’t hide from each other. We’d spend as much time as we could together and always make time for each other.”

You picture Thor sitting at your island in your comfy cottage. He’s so massive that he’d take up so much space. You’d have to squeeze past him, and he’d turn to wrap his arms around your waist as you pass.

He’d trap you there, not letting you move.

“We’d make breakfast together. Cramped up in my little kitchen, it would turn into play.” You smile. “We’d lounge around the house, reading and listening to music. In the evenings we’d move out to the backyard and watch the sun set then watch the stars until I’d fall asleep on his shoulder.”

As if you’re caught doing something you shouldn’t be, you startle yourself out of your daydream and feel your neck heat up.

You’d crossed from rational marriage into sentimental and you’re a little shocked at the detail in which your mind has gone.

You’re also a little startled by the pleasant feeling that picturing Thor in those situations has given you.

For someone who has never had a crush, you’re startled by the butterflies it gives you.

“But I’ve never been into anyone like that before.” You tell him, looking away from his intense gaze. “So, even if that’s what I picture, it’s not like it’s ever gonna happen.”

“It might.” Thor says, sounding as if he might be trying to comfort you.

“It won’t.” You assure him. “I hope your girl changes her mind.”

There’s a bitter ache in your chest as you say it, and you’re certain it’s only there because of the little fantasy you just allowed yourself to have. You should have picture someone else.

“I hope they relax on the royal blood thing and let you marry someone you love instead.” You hope.

“You say that as if you already know that I won’t pick you.” Thor observes.

You smile wide, laughing even as you bite your lip. “Well, I’m nothing like the girls you’ve met with. I don’t have endless amounts of money. I don’t have a prestigious education or extensive family. I don’t know anything about being royalty. The others have been doing it their entire lives. I’m the least likely candidate. I don’t fit the requirements, except for the bloodline thing.

“I only agreed to meet with you because I knew that the likelihood of you picking me was almost non-existent.”

“Ouch.” Thor says.

“No!” You rush to say. “You’re very…I mean, you’re kind from what I can tell and honorable. You’ve saved Earth a couple times and you’re a little self-centered but only in a superficial way that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a good man.

“I honestly don’t know why your girl won’t marry you but I’m not right for this.” You nod. “I wouldn’t make a good Queen for you.”

Thor nods slowly, thinking for a minute before he straightens up and turns to rise, slapping his hands on his knees before he moves back towards the table of fruit and beer.

“You’re probably right.” He agrees, and for some reason, you’re disappointed.

Not so much that he isn’t picking you, but rather that he sees you aren’t enough. You’re lacking in some way. Which you already knew but…knowing he thinks that makes you feel a little lousy despite that being something you wanted.

“I suppose I’ll just have to pick someone more suitable. Someone who knows better about ruling a people. All the same, thank you for coming.” Thor says, dismissing you.

He picks up his stein again and turns to look at you as you rise.

“It was a pleasure to meet you.”

You nod, “Likewise.”

After a moment of hesitation, you give him a wave and move for the doors, trembling hands reaching out to yank the doors open and make your escape.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been weeks since you met with Thor and you’ve completely forgotten the whole thing. Life has gone back to normal and even though you now know that you’re from royal stock, nothing, as you expected, has changed.

The only plus that has risen from this whole situation is that you can now picture marriage a little better, however inexperienced and cliché it might be, you can make something up now.

Your little fling with the idea of Thor had given you fuel to slip a little romance into your writing and your fingers are flying across the keyboard of your laptop as you type up a new and promising mystery about a set of lovers and the body they discover in the attic of their new home.

You hate to be interrupted during a writing session, but you must have forgotten that about yourself because your phone starts to ring.

Normally you mute it before you even sit down to write.

With a growl you reach over and take a quick look at the number.

David flashes on your screen and quickly you swipe to answer.

“Hey, can I call you back in like an hour? I’m in the middle of a chapter and I’m on a roll.” You plead, fingers still flying across the keys.

“Y/N, Thor chose you.” David’s voice says and your fingers freeze.

There’s a pounding in your chest and your head is full of white fuzz. Your legs are numb, and your stomach is swirling with both flutters and nausea.

You can’t have heard that right.

“What?” You ask, voice shaky.

“Thor. He chose you. I just got off the phone with Brunnhilde and she wanted to let me know so that I could call you and let you know that she’ll be by tomorrow to pick you up.”

This can’t be happening.

“She said to pack only what you absolutely need. Everything else will be provided for you.”

“David…I…I can refuse, right? I don’t have to marry him.” You plead desperately.

“Y/N…” David sighs. “You agreed to this before you went to see him. I’m afraid the time to back out has come and gone.”

“But I can just not do it.” You argue. “They can’t force me to do it.”

“The government will seize your assets if you refuse.” David explains. “They want this done. I’m sorry, Y/N. There’s no backing out of this now.”

“But…But he loves someone else.” You tell him and even though your mind knows that this should be the last thing to concern you, it should not be the first reason you can think of why marrying Thor is a bad idea, it is.

As your eyes focus on the little blinking line of your word doc, your heart gives a painful ache knowing that your husband will be loving someone else.

[tomsandal]

A Cup to go

a/n: brought to you by me asking what should i write and Pap answering "coffee shop au or whatever people write about these days"

characters: červená kapota, tom sandál, leva p. pneumatika (background), tobi polobotka (background)

warnings: none

words: 4,6k

The Luxorn cup

Part of the Artanar sterling silver tea and coffee set, originally belonging to a bygone Liechtenstein royal family and currently one of the most expensive antiques in the world. And that is for a good reason. The set is decorated with accents of gold and embellished with an array of rubies, garnets and red opals, with a large fire opal as its centrepiece.

All of that makes it shiny enough to make any respected lawbreaker want to get their hands on it.

It comes as a surprise then, that this piece of treasure is not sought after very much. That is, because it just so happened, that many years back this set was being transported across the pacific to a highly acclaimed auction when it mysteriously disappeared, never to be seen again in the light of day.

That is, until now.

Word has been going around the streets of a certain long lost cup set piece. A hint here, a suggestion there and suddenly there is even a rumoured location. Location in the shape of a very unassuming coffee shop.

In front of which stood a certain red-clad thief.

Červená Kapota scanned the storefront of the shop from the other side of the street. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. The outlet was painted in cheerful pastel colours with their display boards full of saccharine sweet words written in excessive loops and currently accomodating a fair share of customers inside. She got to give it to them, if this all truly is just a front for a criminal organisation, then they did a mighty fine job with it. What a cheeky plan though, simply hide a cup in a coffee shop and everyone is none the wiser. Well, except her obviously.

That's why she is here in the first place.

A week ago she applied for a job there, with a plan to assimilate with the staff and find out where the famed teaware was hiding and swoop it right under their noses. Easy job, just in and out, a deserved rest after her painstaking previous venture. So she didn’t need to worry about ruining her current streak of successful heists.

And luck seemed to be on her side.

Earlier that day Kapota received an email from the store owner, informing her that her application was accepted and to show up to the interview at -about now- o’clock, actually. She looked up from her watch and with a last glance at their display windows, she made her way inside.

The door opened with a cute little jingle and the heavy coffee aroma hit her right in the nose. Disoriented for a second, she quickly surveyed the place before proceeding to the counter with confident steps. Once there, an employee with a high ponytail and cherry drop earrings looked up at her and fixed her with a trained smile.

“Hello and Welcome dear, you are here for the interview, right?” the barista addressed her cheerfully.

“That would be me, yes”

“Good, good. Your resume passed with flying colours and the manager will see you now.”

Of course it did, I am no amateur after all. This will be a piece of cake.

“Now if you would please follow me to the backroom, the other person is already there so yall can get right to it”

...

The what

Before Kapota had any time to voice her confusion, the aforementioned barista led her to the back of the shop, knocked on a door at the very end of the hallway, gave her a reassuring smile and left her to her own devices.

Upon hearing “Enter.” from the other side, she took a deep breath and opened the door, peering inside.

The manager sat behind a desk with two other seats in front of him.

The one on the right was empty. But the one on the left was already occupied.

Said occupant was sitting back leisurely with one hand hanging over the backrest and a head full of loud purple hair.

oh...

oh no.

Kapota cursed inwardly when the person turned around, and it did in fact turn out to be the very same guy she was expecting, coincidentally also the actual last person she would want to see right now at this very moment in this very office.

Once he turned around and took a look at her, his face turned to a brief expression of surprise but he shook it off quickly and in its place was a beaming smug grin that could be mistaken for a friendly smile by anyone else, but she knew better.

“You!” she growled and pointed at him accusatory.

“Hii Red” he simply shot back with a wink.

The audacity. What a no-good, infuriating, pompous peac-

“Ah miss Redd! Come, come. Take a seat please.” interrupted the manager, quite rudely, her train of thoughts.

“So..” he continued as she sat down, “I take it that you two have met before, is that right”

Her workmate turned his attention back to said man and with his million-dollar smile, he answered “Oh! yeah, yeah, we go way back, chums pretty much”

“Just coworkers,” she shot back.

“professional associates☆”

“acquaintances at best.”

“You wound me”

“Good.”

“ow-” “-So as I see it,” interfered the manager (yet once again), “this situation turned out as well as it could have! Since it seems that both of you are acquainted with each other already, there won't be any reason for any petty rivalry out there.” they glanced at each other, wearing the same expression, “because, you see, well we, unfortunately, have only one spot on the staff free. And you might be wondering, what now? There is two of you. Well, both of you will simply go out there and will show us if you got what it takes and I’ll pick who will be staying at the end of your shifts”

when neither of them said anything he just shooed them away with his hands and finished with “that would be all thank you, ask Marcy to give you your uniforms and run-down of the place.”

As they were getting up, she looked back at her involuntarily gained companion and suppressed a sigh. It's not that she disliked the guy that much, but with the nuisance incarnate Tom himself here, there wasn’t a single chance of this going according to plan.

///

So far so good, thought a certain Tom Sandál to himself, while picking scattered porcelain shards from the floor.

It’s already been an hour since he has been reassigned to a server instead of a barista and this is only the first cup he broke! Going strong here!

When they started their shifts, he was the one they picked first to go work behind the counter, which they regretted soon enough and pulled him from there. Yeah so he may or may not know actual nothing on how to make a decent cup of coffee or operate any of their machinery but he tried his best, and it's not like Kap lasted in that position that much longer than him when they put her there to replace him. Admittedly she actually took to it a bit better than him and managed to make it work for her, which comes as a surprise in all regards since he was pretty sure that she didn’t like coffee one bit. Suspicious.

Speaking of suspicious, he’s also pretty sure she tried to poison him twice at least in her reign behind the counter, which yes, justified, but still.

He was being a cheek and ordered a cup for himself since there weren’t many people in and there wasn’t much to do. When he got his cup, instead of the typical caramelized nutty smell of a coffee there was something he couldn't quite place but very much out of place and on top of that there was a cream poured art in the shape of a skull in the foam. When he looked back at her with a quirked eyebrow in a silent question she just smiled and gave him a thumbs up.

Never has he been this torn in making a decision. Prove a point or stay unpoisoned, choices, choices.

He didn’t dare drink it in the end.

But it was close.

The second time he did it, because yes of course he pulled it twice, he - definitely intentionally and according to plan not just a mistake thankyou- switched orders around and his poisoned cup of coffee ended up with a customer.

After that Kapota has been stripped of her coffee-making privileges and demoted to a server. So now they are both on the same playing field, only needing to look out for nudges from the other one when they are balancing a particularly high stack of tableware.

Tom finished sweeping all the stray bits of porcelain from the floor and dumped them in a bin.

A Job well done, I deserve a cookie.

And with that, he in fact pulled out a cookie from the front pocket of his apron.

Tobi swinged by the shop earlier to drop off his lunch, and also to make fun of him, but they also brought the said cookies so all is forgiven.

Munching on a cookie, he turned to the task at hand and got back to picking up cups and plates from empty seats.

When he was at his third table, with a decently sized cup tower in hands, something behind him caught his attention. Turning slightly, he saw his ol pal Kap standing over a table next to a seated customer with wavy dirty blond hair and a kind smile. The surprising part was that they seemed to be in the middle of a civil conversation.

“Well I be damned” he murmured to himself and leaned towards them.

Kapota of all people being able to make friends that fast? He was almost proud. Unless of course, it i-

/crash/

...

Aaaand that makes it a cup number two.

///

“I don't know… just give me the speciality of the house”

“Leva please I've literally worked here for two hours just pick”

///

Getting inside the head office and swiping classified documents unnoticed has been laughably easy.

When no one was looking, Kapota sneaked off to the backrooms and after confirming that the air was clear, slipped inside the now empty manager's office. With the soft click of closing doors behind her, she quickly scanned the room to see what she could work with. A computer, a corkboard, a card file cabinet and a large painting. Knowing that she was on borrowed time, she quickly proceeded with the task at hand. First, she inspected the corkboard, since it was closest to the door. A quick inspection showed that this was a dead-end, nothing more than useless paper junk and employees of the month, as she partly expected. On the other hand, the computer being also a dead end was a surprise. She searched through it back and forth and yet there was nothing relating to the cup or any nefarious activities, to be frank, there was hardly anything on the computer in general. Not good. Next, she probed the painting, an abstract piece with a decorated frame, hopefully hiding anything of use behind it. She gently lifted it off the wall and to her growing disappointment found only a bare wall hiding behind it. She took a peek at the back of the canvas, hoping to find at least some helpful note tucked to the frame, but all that was there was scribbled “dedicated to S.M., who wont pick up my calls”. She frowned and put the painting back a bit crooked.

“Looks like we’ll have to do this the old fashion way”, she said to herself as she made her way towards the card file cabinet and cracked her knuckles.

Bills, order lists, inventory stocktaking, employee files, folders upon folders of junk. Not looking good so far. She kept thumbing through the folders some more when finally a word caught her attention. “Combination safe”. The document itself was quite chaotic and all over the place, but Kapota gathered the meaning of it loud and clear. There was a safe somewhere in the building, with the combination to it scribbled charitably at the bottom of the page. Not only that, but it wasn’t just any safe that would hold the company’s earnings or anything. No, this was apparently the manager's own personal secret safe. That was about to swiftly change, sharing is caring after all.

She stashed all the folders back and turned to leave the place with her newfound goal. Though when she was across the office something made her scramble in place and dive under the desk. Something that was very unmistakenly footstep sounding, which was confirmed by the creak of the door seconds later.

Glueing herself to the inside of the desk, she held her breath and willed the person to just turn around and leave. This was far from the first time she was in a situation like this but it was nerve-wracking all the same. Few tense moments passed by and the person finally moved towards the desk.

I am a shadow the shadow is me you don't see me you cant see me you wont-

The person sat a paper cup upon the desk and promptly left.

Few more moments passed until the footsteps fully faded and Kapota finally let out the breath she was holding and quickly made her escape from the office.

///

The place consisted of the main room, with a second story of sorts that overlooked the bottom floor, an adjacent kitchen and back hallways that led to the aforementioned office, storeroom and a door to the back alley.

The main room and kitchen were currently a no-go. Can’t snoop around if everyone is pestering you to work and questioning everything you do. The second story was just filled with plants and didn’t offer any seatings for customers so it should be devoid of anyone, but you could also see there from the main room, so snooping there right now is risque as well. So that left Kapota with the office, storeroom, hallways and the back alley for all she knows.

Since the office was already checked, she proceeded to go through the storeroom next but came out empty-handed as well.

So now she was crawling along a wall in the middle of a hallway, prodding the wall for any secrets, step after step.

/knock knock/

Not here.

/knock knock/

Not here.

/knock kn-/

“I didn’t expect this place to have a boogeymen problem when I applied, they should probably do something about that before things get out of hands”

She didn't even look back, she knew perfectly who that was.

“Don’t you have tea to serve or something”

“I'm pretty sure its coffee and same goes to you”,

“Cool, cool”, she pinched the bridge of her nose “but we can’t both be missing, so go back or you’ll blow my cover.”

“Good”

what a prick.

She decided to not grace him with a response and just went back to her wall scrutiny.

She only managed to cover a few more meters of the hallway before Tom broke the silence again.

“So... why are you creeping in the shadows in the first place”

Now she looked back at him with a smile.

“Let’s just say that the higher-ups have been liberated of a certain safe intel”, she responded lightly before turning back to the wall.

Behind her echoed a commending whistle accompanied by “As expected of the resident sneakster” and then the hallway was filled with the sounds of her work yet once again.

/knock knock/

/knock knock/

/knock knock/

“It's just a shame that my sources say something different”

/knock/

...

“Sources?”

“Oh you know...” he drawled with an audible grin “just chit chat here chit chat there with my dear coworkers, really bonded ykno”

“What, How did you make them trust you and spill so quickly, we haven’t been here longer than a few hours.”

“You’d be surprised what people will tell you for a cookie ;]”

Kapota, now fully facing Tom, just blinked for a few moments before gathering her thoughts.

“So hypothetically if i handed you a metaphorical cookie at this very moment could you disclose with me what this great source of yours said.”

“Well then hypothetically, I heard through the grapevine that mr bossman is quite particular about his flowers. Everyone says they look very fake up close but weirdly enough, everyone is also strictly forbidden from touching them or moving them even a centimeter from their spot, lest they wilt”, he finished with a dramatic sigh, before switching his expression to a mischievous smirk and continuing, “So of course i am currently on my way to dig through the dirt and see if there are hidden goodies”

Kapota thought about it for a while, it was very far-fetched, but not implausible. But it still didn’t fully add up and left loose ends…

“Alright flowerboy, but then explain why there were documents talking about spicy little secret safe that the manager is keeping to himself.”

Few beats of silence passed between them before they both exclaimed at the same time.

“The safe is hidden by a flowerpot!”

They were both wearing matching grins, which upon realization promptly morphed into matching glares.

What now.

...

“Alright thanks for the company, but it's time for you to return to the floor now. scram”, Kapota started pointedly and shooed him away with her hands.

“As if!” shot Tom right back. “You wouldn’t even know where to go if it weren’t for me.”

“First of all, I would get there eventually! And secondly, we can’t both disappear from our shifts, people will get suspicious and we will get easily spotted!”

“Well I’m going now and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

“But I was here first!”

“I didn’t ask!!”

They held each other's glares. No one was blinking.

“Listen...” began Tom cautiously. “This is getting us nowhere, how about we decide the old fashion way”

Kapota squinted at him as he proceeded to rummage through his pockets and made a small sound of realization when he held out a small coin for her to see.

“A coin flip”

“Exactly”

“I swear Sandals if you say something like ‘tails i go get the loot, heads you go back serving’ i swear i will-”

“Nononon non ok nothing like that I swear just tails you get to go, heads i get to go?”

“... In that case that we could do yeah”

“Nice, nice, so can we blink now?”

“I suppose so”

“Neato”, the staring ended with that and Tom brought his free hand to his eyes.

“I have one condition for it though”, continued Kapota as she rubbed her sore eyes as well.

“I don't want your “showman hands” anywhere near that flip, so no catching or hand slapping and possible rigging of yours will be going on.”

“Fair I suppose, so I just flip it and let it clatter to the ground you say?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of me doing the coin catching.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Alright then floor shall be our judge”

And with that the deciding flip was flipped, the metal gleamed in the shabby ceiling light and filled the whole hallway with anticipation.

As if in slow motion it turned

once

twice

thrice

and then it swiftly fell down and right in the gap between floor panels and clattered to a layer underneath them.

No one moved.

…

“I don’t think I have another coin”, piped quietly Tom.

“The floor is our judge”

“pardon?”

“The floor is our judge.”, repeated Kapota, now a bit more loudly. “We have to find out what the judgement is.”

“What does that, huh? So we are going to tear the floor apart to see what it landed on, or?”

“Yes.”

“...well, lets get to work then, shall we”

///

For anyone wondering, it takes one broken floor plank and a baffled employee to be demoted to a floor sweeper.

///

“That could have gone better”, murmured Tom to himself.

He and his floor vandalizing accomplice were currently stashed in the back of the main room with brooms in hands. Far enough to not be in the way but close enough to be watched over.

Thankfully they weren’t immediately thrown out when they were ungracefully caught with bits of flooring in their hands. He managed to, fortunately, swiftly sweet talk them out of their predicament so now they weren’t personnel suspicious of criminal activity but just two idiot clowns. And while yes, not being thrown out or arrested was sweet indeed, this outcome was not that ideal either. But what's done is done.

So Tom just leaned back against the wall and lamented.

“All that work and we haven’t even found out who won in the end.”

He would have continued to wail some more but a swift bonk to the head from his partner in crime stopped his next lament and instead he just let out a hiss of pain. He looked at her questioningly, because what was that for, but he only received a nod and tipping of her broom (that had been used for the bonkage moment prior) towards the dustpan in his hand. Upon further inspection, it turned out that his wall leaning, while effective for dramatic effect, also tipped over his dustpan and now most of it was back on the floor.

“Ay ay kaptn’ im I am on it Im on it..”, he muttered as he crouched down. “You could have informed me a bit more gently though. I will have a bruise for sure and we’re stuck here for a little while longer and you’re not exactly the one I would want to kiss it better” He dodged from her range with a cackle as she raised the broom threateningly once more.

They continued to sweep peacefully, each in their little corner.

“So… buddy..”

A humm of acknowledgement.

“What do you think are the odds of us being able to scamper off to grab the goods”

To that Kapota chuckled and responded with a small smile. “I think we have better chances of getting promoted than them letting us go anywhere out of their sight”

“drat”

“I second that”

Kapota then proceeded to lean on her broom tiredly.

Not the best of napping places, thought Tom to himself. He should probably be a good friend and provide her with somewhere more comfortable to rest. Like, the floor, for example. And by ‘provide’ meaning deliver a swift kick to her broom as a payback for the bonk. But he decided to be the bigger man and opted to not go through with it and let her be.

For about ten seconds.

///

So this was it.

They were seated again in the bossman’s office just like the many hours before that, except now they were waiting for the big reveal. Which one of them will get the spot and with that a chance to try again the next day. He wasn't delusional and knew neither he or Kap made a great first impression, but now it all comes to who was more of a disaster. He hadn’t looked to his right, but knew his competition next to him was as tense as he.

The manager finally decided to speak.

“Well, how do I put this.” Doesn’t matter, just put it out somehow please. “You have both shown that you are very passionate and prepared to put your all into this and I must commend you for that. But the thing is. Well… after a long evaluation, um I have decided that unfortunately neither of you get the job”. He paused for a short moment before briskly continuing so they couldn't get their two cents in. “It wasn’t an easy decision”, he coughed slightly, “but some, hm, alarming factors pushed me to make this decision. Thank you for your time, it was lovely having you here but I would kindly request of you to take your leave now. Have a pleasant rest of your day.”

///

Tom climbed the last few stairs leading to his door and with a jingle of keys promptly entered inside.

“heeyo I’m home”, he called as he closed the door behind him. In response, he got a muffled “Welcome home” from the kitchen and soft pitter-patter of little feet. Soon enough accompanying the patters was a grey cat-shaped furball striding towards him. He picked up said fuzz and nuzzled it in greeting.

“Hewwo Bean did’cha miss me little buddy?” cooed Tom at the cat which bapped him swiftly in the nose as a response.

“That is not his name and you know it.”, replied a scolding voice from the kitchen.

Tom just laughed and made his way to his dearest with a purring bundle of fluff in his arms. Tobi was standing at the counter, donned in a green sweater and hair in a bun, seemingly finishing putting away whatever it was they were using beforehand. Tom hopped onto the counter next to them.

“I won’t get a hewwo?”, they said over their shoulder.

“in this economy? We’re all out, sorry”

Tobi just smiled and after putting away the last glass they turned to Tom and put their arms around him and mr. Socks and planted a little kiss on their boyfriend’s brow.

“Care for a cup of coffee after a long day?”, they inquired mischievously.

“Don’t ask me anything like that in the next few months and I might find some leftover hewwo stock somewhere.”

Tobi chuckled and murmured in his hair “How generous. Should I put the kettle on instead? Care for a spot of tea perhaps. ”

“That would be absolutely perfect thank uu”

Tom might not have gotten his hands on the famed Luxorn cup, but a cup of tea from his partner seemed even better at the moment.

///

Kapota was standing at the doorstep to her apartment building, wanting to savour the pleasant crisp air for a while longer before going inside. She got here only now, even though she got kicked out of the coffee shop a few hours prior already, but Leva brought her along to their little personal pity party of sorts, to cheer her up. And don’t take her wrong, she had fun and was actually feeling better even though the plan was a bust, because Leva just had that effect on people, but she was exhausted and looking forward to going home and crashing down. So with a last deep breath, she entered the building and began her climb up the many stairs.

After her conquer of the staircase she unlocked her door and entered the comfortable familiarity of her apartment.

“Hey everyone I’m home.”, she called and back replied bubbling water and an oxygen pump whirring.

She put away her coat and shoes and made her way toward her fish tank, grabbing a box of fish food on her way there. She then proceeded to greet all of her bushnosed babeis. All very beautiful. Very powerful.

Once they were all accounted for and fed, Kapota all but fell to her armchair next to the fish tank. Letting out a content sigh, she burrowed down in the soft plush and relaxed. This was fine. This was nice.

She could hardly even remember what she was so bummed out about.

Oh yeah wait. Stupid gaudy cup. Who needs it anyway? She has plenty of cups right here.

So who cares that the heist was unsuccessful, at least she messed up Tom’s plans as well so he’s gone home empty-handed with her, and that's in her books just as much of a success as actually getting the prize.

And with that, she drifted off.

[estate-sterling]

Doutre-Roussel: 5pc Antique French 950 Sterling Silver Tea Set + Servin...

[konstantinantiques]

Antique c.1903 sterling silver spoons Coffee tea set of 6 six Sheffield

Antique 1903 sterling silver spoons set 6 six Art Nouveau coffee tea set Sheffield boxed great rare gift Maker: Joseph Rodgers & Sons British Empire sterling silver hallmark: Sheffield crown, Lion passant, I (1903)

Length    spoon : 110 mm Weight    spoons : 88.8 g

[happyjoyisfree]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Antique Sterling Silver Ice Tea Straw Spoons (6) 😮.

[chaos-in-the-making]

Buying sterling silver anything. He will go through thrift stores and garage sales and estate sales just to find a sterling silver spoon or tea set. He used to have boxes of antique silver before having to sell. It was a little nuts.

What is your dad’s weird hyperfixation??? They all have one

[everlarkxevermore]

$100.0 ~ vintage set of 6 STERLING SILVER DEMITASSE / TEA SPOONS TAXCO MEXICO signed, Antique Sterling Flatware, US Silver Flatware, Silver Flatware, Sterling Silver Flatware, Antique Silver Flatware, Antique Flatware, Sterling Flatware, US Sterling Flatware Find Out This Antique Sterling Flatware

[mrsterlingusa]

The Chinoiserie Table Setting

Start with a chambray table cloth. I like to mix high with low and the chambray fabric is soft in feel and color. Herend Guirlande de Raisins charger plate in yellow. Antique blue Canton china dinner plate, bread plate, and tea cups holding tea lights. Antique Chinese porcelain Double Happiness vases and ginger jars. Behind the spray of flowers a Famille Jaune (yellow) double gourd vase with a mille fleur pattern. The vintage Mandarin candlesticks were made by Este Ceramiche for Tiffany & Co. The sterling silver flatware is Serenity by International Silver. An antique fruit knife with a mother of pearl handle is doing duty as a bread knife. The vivid yellow Pansies are from the garden as are the sprays of Heavenly Bamboo flowers