#i’ll be in mourning for ten years. as is tradition.

[metagalacticx]

[neilljcsten]

merry christmas. maybe this year i won’t lock myself in a bathroom. some people leave out cookies and i run the shower cold enough to sting. we all have different traditions. ten minutes is what i give myself to mourn you. to let the anger and aches battle their way out of my chest and into the world. it’s not fair. none of this is fair. fuck them for lying to me and fuck you for never looking back. i will never forgive them and i’ll never forgive myself. my memory of you is getting hazy. ten minutes are up and i still feel empty. i put on my christmas pyjamas and let my heart wash down the drain.

[s-ttropezpartygirl]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⊹ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⊹ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⊹ ✩

first periods and third cousins

trigger warnings: mentions of death/mourning, mentions of menstruation, one-sided incest, men, age gaps, James Charles

The following events are real and are my own experiences that I am sharing. I will not tolerate any sort of plagiarism or reposts on other sites.

I first realised that men looked at me like I was a sexual object a few weeks after I turned thirteen.

A month before, on September 10th, I got my first period. It was right in the middle of lockdown, right when paranoia about the virus peaked. It was around ten-thirty at night, and I was supposed to be asleep. My mum was getting ready to join a Zoom meeting for work, and I was watching Lily Singh’s new video that had just premiered. The heel of my left foot was pressed against my crotch, and when I sat up to shut my laptop, I remember the light brushing of red over it. “Huh. Weird” I thought.

I walked over to the bathroom to pee, and as I sit down on the commode, I pull my shorts down and see blood staining my underwear. Everything feels surreal, and I feel a bit giddy as I hurry into the living room and shout, “Mum! There’s blood in my underwear!”

My grandmother takes it upon herself to bathe me. It’s a common tradition where I come from. As she roughly scrubs me all over, I stare with mild horror and fascination at the blood dribbling into the drain. “You must bathe yourself from now on. You’re a woman.” She says as she soaps up my arm.

Everything is fuzzy from there and the next thing I remember is my mum and my grandmother calling all of our relatives to tell them the good news. My aunt video calls me and tells me, “Welcome to the Big Girl’s Club.”

As I prepare to go to bed, I look at the small red stain on the sheets. A wave of revulsion passes through me before I tuck myself in.

A month later, we drive to my grandmother’s house. Great-grandma was really sick. We arrive on the nineteenth and after quarantining for five days we go to see her. On the eve of the twenty-fifth, she dies.

On the first day of mourning, all my cousins come over to support us. One of my elder cousin’s clothes are freshly stained at the back and I can’t help but glance at it as the funeral progress.

On the second day, her elder brother, my third cousin, arrives. He was annoying, boorish, and rough. My grandmother whispers from behind her veil, “He used to be a nice boy, until he fell in with the wrong sort. No better than his father.”

He liked to mess around with me, poke fun. The dynamic always felt uncomfortable for me, but left me wanting more of it. I remember googling the meaning of incest sometime during the mourning period. My grandmother was quick to shoo him away whenever she saw us huddled by my laptop.

“He’s got a nice face, why is he gay?” I remember him saying this about James Charles when I showed him a makeup tutorial. “That’s not how gay people work, though. It’s just about who you’re attracted to.” It had felt weird explaining the concept of homosexuality as a barely-thirteen year old girl to a twenty year old man. I never knew why he chose to hang out with me out of all the other people who were home. It made me feel special, like I was different from the grown ups.

On the seventh day of mourning, after I had finished my online classes for the day, I impatiently sit on my grandparent’s porch for my mum to come pick me up and take me to great-grandma’s place. My cousin arrives, on his ratty motorbike and says, “Your mum’s busy, I’ll take you over.”

I relent and I climb onto the back. He guides my little arms around him as he says, “Hold tight.” I let out a terrified screech when he pulls out of the driveway at what seems like breakneck speed and drives to the litte house behind the paddy fields. I involuntarily tighten my arms around him, and I picture him with a sleazy grin as he lives out his fantasies with his thirteen year old cousin who doesn’t understand what’s going on.

I pinch his stomach and scream when he drives down the steep hill to my great-grandma’s place. “Slow down! I’m scared!”

He laughs as he says, “Well, I’m not, and I’m the one who’s driving now.”

I get off the bike and give him a good kick in the shin when we finally stop. I run in and bury my face into my mother’s lap. I can’t tell her that he made me feel like I couldn’t control anything, like he had all the power in the situation. He was older, he was a man, he was family; no one would ever believe me.

Even though he never touched me, or did something to me, he made me feel uncomfortable in a way i had never experienced before. After the funeral, we drove back to the city and he got a job as a mechanic on a ship. I haven’t seen him since, and i’m glad I haven’t. He’s getting married soon, and i feel guilty for not speaking out about it now.

I felt out of control, but I relished the feeling. I hated the way he looked at me, the way his hand would linger sometimes. But deep down i felt giddy, flattered, even. Because he looked at me and found me desirable, and to a thirteen year old who most boys never looked twice at, it meant something. I hate how they’ve groomed me to yearn for the tidbits of attention older men throw my way.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⊹ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⊹ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ⊹ ✩

[alyssadeliv]

The Forgotten One

First      Previous

Chapter 8

Just seeing that dagger, even after years, brought memories that made his heart ache. He remembered giving it to her… It was her 12th birthday, and even being only six at the time he remembered feeling so proud of himself when her entire face lit up at the sight of his present. The yin and the yang always represented their relationship so well. She was the light inside his darkness, and he was the darkness to her light. He still had the other part of the set, from the last time he had ever seen her, it was his most prized possession. It was inevitable that every time he looked at it he remembered her, so he mostly kept the weapon in the back of his closet, carefully protected inside a wooden box, because it was too painful to look at every day.

Now that he was older he wondered if his first actions after discovering his other siblings had anything to do with her death. Something inside him told him he needed to secure a position for himself before his Father decided he wasn't needed anymore. Because that was the norm in the League. You had to fight for your position. The only person he could let his guard down was his sister. He didn’t need to prove himself for her. She looked at him as if the world started and ended at him, and he always had looked at her the same. 

He took her death hard, but he never truly got to mourn her properly. Being tossed aside by his mother to live with the father he had never met, after the most tragic event of his life, was enough to damage lesser children, but he was the Heir of the League. He needed to be strong. So that's what he did, first, he tried to eliminate his competition. But to his surprise, he was berated by not only his Father but his other siblings. 

Being only ten at the time he didn’t know a life without violence. And he had to relearn how to behave in this new world he was left on. Without his sister by his side, he felt incomplete. Being neglected by the Father he looked up to for so long wasn’t easy either. He never once told anyone about her. He didn't see the point. She was dead, and Al Ghuls never dwell on the past. But as a Wayne, he often found himself opening the wooden box and remembering all the happy moments of his life by his sister's side.

That’s why this copycat made him so angry. He recognized the uniform and the weapons being used. The fighting style and the evasion techniques he recognized from his training in the League. Whomever this person was, it had ties to his grandfather's organization. Living almost three years away from the League lifestyle was enough for him to decide to never return. But he couldn’t for the life of him understand why his mother sent someone to taunt him with his dead sister's doppelganger. That was cold even for her, and he knew that Talia would never cross that line because she loved Marianne too. 

It took him almost one week to try to come clean with his family. He needed time to process. In that period of time, their mysterious assassin completed their mission. Damian knew that because a high fashion designer was found dead by the docks a couple of days after their last encounter with the BatFam. There were signs of torture, but the most peculiar thing was that the designer was wearing a tailored suit with the Order of the Miraculi symbol on the back. Gotham police simply linked his death to a Chinese gang, but Damian knew better. He just wasn’t sure what exactly happened. 

He had a theory that after his sister's death, Wang Fu eventually got a new apprentice, and that person now was impersonating his deceased sister to obtain power. Before her death, Marianne was widely known as The Lily of the Desert. Her reputation was incredible. And her Modus Operandi, amazing.

In his sister's memory, he needed to put a stop to this impostor.

“I have not been completely honest with you Father” They were all at the cave, getting ready for patrol. Grayson and Todd immediately stopped whatever they were doing and stared at him as if he had grown another head. Drake nursing a hot cup of coffee didn't seem to have listened to what he said. 

“And what exactly have you been hiding?” Father asks folding his arms in front of him. These last couple of days had been hard on him. Catching the assassin had been his number one priority. 

“I believe that I have information pertained to Gotham's new visitor…” His Father's face darkens. He wore the Batman suit sans the cowl, but he still looked very much intimidating. 

“And why have I not been informed of this sooner?” He asks with a stern tone. Seeing his Father, with arms crossed, made Damian remember the series of long berations he received in his first months living at Gotham. And for some reason, he felt small.

Seeing his youngest reaction, of flinching, he softened his tone. 

“What I mean is… Why not come to us in the first place, surely we could have helped, and-” He was interrupted, a loud signal echoing through the cave signaling that there was a disturbance. Oracle immediately gets to work. 

“There’s a disturbance in Wayne Botanic Garden… The alarm indicated someone broke in. There is no response from the security team there.” The redhead explains the situation. “I don't think it is Ivy. There have been no sightings of her in weeks… She and Harley have been keeping a very low profile.”

“Suit up everyone! We will finish this later Damian. You and Hood are in charge of discovering where this intruder entered the building. Tim, Alfred benched you, stay here with Oracle and go through the security video, find out where this person is staying. Nightwing you are in charge of finding the security team. I’ll deal with whoever it is inside.”

And with that, they were gone.

When they got to the Botanical Gardens it was too silent. The alarm that alerted them wasn’t on anymore. And if they didn't know better it would have seemed a false alarm. 

“New plan, Nightwing and I will enter the building. Robin and Hood are to keep guard on the roof. If you see anything exiting the building notify us immediately.” And he was gone.

Damian got angry, knowing that his Father was punishing him for lying.

“Well, it looks like it’s just you and me baby bird” Todd says with a cheeky smirk. Even with his laid-back attitude, Damian could still tell that he had his guard up. “You stay here, and I’ll take the other side of the building. Call me if you need backup!” Of all of his brothers, Jason Todd was the one he least interacted with. He mostly lived in his apartment, and aside from patrol, he was never home. He liked to think that at some level the oldest understood him. He too was trained by the League for years, and he always wondered what it would have been like to meet him before coming to Gotham. 

Todd didn’t like to talk about the time after his death and Damian respected that. Because he too had difficulty talking about his childhood. Grayson was the one that always pushed them to try and talk about their feelings, and that was one of the reasons he did like his older brother, it kind of reminded him of Marianne.

Even if he did miss his life in the League, life with his Father was without a doubt, better. He was allowed to have pets, something he always wanted. And he wasn’t expected to train until he bled. He was obligated to attend school, and that he didn't like, but in general, he couldn’t complain. 

Suddenly he got movement from his perimetrical vision, and if it wasn’t for his training he might have missed it. Whomever it was, was taking advantage that the roof from the building across from the Gardens didn’t have lighting. 

Throwing caution out of the window Damian went into action. He didn’t need backup. If it was someone from the League, he could take care of it. When he got to the other roof he was immediately attacked. His opponent wasn’t using the weapons Damian knew she had in her possession. At their last encounter, he hadn’t been able to catch a glimpse of who had attacked Drake, but now he could tell it was someone older than him, and she definitely had previous training. He blocked her first punch but wasn’t able to escape the second one. He momentarily lost his air but didn’t let his guard go down. He responded in kind and suddenly they were in heated combat.

On his intercom, he could hear his Father and siblings asking what was happening, but he didn’t have the time to respond. For some reason, their fight suddenly felt like a dance. They were in synchrony with each other and he felt as if he was missing something. The girl was wearing the traditional League attire, with a small symbol of the Order of the Miraculous on her left breast. It was identical to the one his sister would use, and that only helped to fuel his anger. By now the other would be getting there in a matter of minutes, so he had to act fast. Fastly grabbing a Batarang he threw it with all his force. Not expecting it, she couldn’t get out of the way fast enough, and the weapon lodged itself to her right side. Blood immediately started coming out of the wound. He lunged at her. Using her wound as an advantage. But to his surprise, she didn’t seem affected. And was able to block his attacks with ease. He heard some bodies landing on the roof, his family had reached them. But that still didn’t deter him. Punch after punch he started to gain some ground over his opponent. Landing one powerful land on her jaw she falls to the ground defenseless, and her mask dislodged from her face, and now Damian was finally able to see the face of his opponent. He froze. 

Somewhere behind him he hears his Father asking her questions, but it is all muted. A million thoughts pass through his mind, but there are so many that he can’t form a coherent thought. 

“Ashataqat lak ya 'akhy" Comes from her mouth.

He throws himself towards her. He hears Grayson shouting for him to stop, but he can't, it's like his body is moving at its own accord.

Jason sees everything happening in slow motion. From the second they hear fighting sounds from the Demon Spawn’s intercom to when they reach the rooftop where the fighting is taking place. He sees the brutal moves, Robin, lands on his opponent. And if she wasn't an assassin he would feel bad for her. 

She’s injured but that doesn't stop Damian. Dick tries to interfere, but for some reason Bruce stops him. Something he regrets when she’s finally overpowered and is on the ground because even after Dick screams Damian to stop he still goes after the girl. 

But to their surprise, he doesn’t attack her. He throws himself into her arms. She hugs him back, not even caring that her side it’s badly bleeding. She holds him as if her life depended on it. And Damian is no different. Even being at a considerable distance they can see Robin’s shoulders shaking. He's crying, something no one ever saw him doing before.

That sight stunned him. And he can see he is not the only one. Bruce doesn’t seem to know what to do, and Dick looks like someone just kicked his puppy. 

Oh, how Bruce wishes he had heard what Damian had to say earlier.

So last chapter didn’t get a lot of notes... Is the story getting boring? Honest aswers please! I’m posting this chapter today as a birthday present for myself! (My birthday is in 2 days! So exited!) 

Please tell me your thought!

Next

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[diaryofadaringwitch]

Tips for Solar Witches/Sun Worshippers During the Winter

If you're like me, in the Northern Hemisphere and dealing with winter- you might be finding it hard to be consistent with your witchy practice, especially if you're a green/nature witch.

Of course, magic is always present in nature but it can be harder to feel connected when everything is dormant, depending on your particular environment. Where I live, there are very few animals that stay active throughout the colder months and the plant life here thrives in our hot and humid summers.

I've always had difficulty with my nature practices in the winter, but this winter I'm facing a new obstacle- worshipping a deity associated with the sun. And yes, Apollo has many other domains like music and poetry, but the sun is still one of the most recognizable of His symbols.

So what's a witch to do?

Well, I've collected a few ideas that I've begun incoporating into my practice that I hope will be useful to you. While I am a devotee of Apollo, these ideas can be applied to any deity associated with the sun or just used as an aspect of secular witchcraft if your craft revolves around solar or green magic. 

1. Spend time outside

This one is obvious, but important to mention anyway. I am a big believer in the magical powers of sunlight, since Vitamin D is a main component of multiple compounds that keep our brains happy. Go for a walk, enjoy your morning coffee on the front porch, or even linger a bit after you take out the trash. Look up at the sky and take a deep breath, allowing the light to wash over you and fill you with its life-giving energy.

This is also a great opportunity to practice earthing. I don't practice this very often in the winter (no thanks, frostbite) but if the day is warmer than normal, it's a great way to connect with the energy in the Earth, even if it's dormant. Just make sure to be safe and keep an eye out for any hazards.

2. Saying thanks at meals

Being raised Catholic, prayer at mealtimes feels very natural to me and since I'm home for the holiday break, it's an easy form of discreet practice. Sunlight is ultimately responsible for every bit of food we eat, so giving thanks before I eat is a great way to show my appreciation for the abundance of energy and life the sun provides. This doesn't have to be elaborate or a singular prayer you say every time. Try pausing for ten seconds to focus on your meal, how it will fuel your body, and how you are grateful for it.

3. Using alternatives to artificial light

As we approach the solstice, the days become shorter and shorter, leaving less and less daylight for us to enjoy. A great way to honor the sun during these limited hours is to find alternatives to artificial/electric light sources. Use candles, fireplaces, or oil lamps to add light where you need it. The flame from a candle is a minature sun, fueling and warming our lives. 

If you want to challenge yourself, make light an offering. Try to spend a day without turning on any electric lights in your home, or limiting your source of light to only one or two key lamps. During the day, you can open your blinds and let the natural light in, appreciating it for every moment that it shines on the world.

4. Music/Devotional Playlists

This one is slightly more specific to Apollo, but I highly encourage you to make a devotional playlist to your deities or to the sun and play it throughout your day. Listen to one of my favorite playlists here.

You can get super creative with this. Think about what songs you associate with a bright, sunny day and add those. If you have a strong connection with the beach & sunlight, try listening to ocean sounds or ambience during a meditation session or just when you're going about your day.

5. Embrace the cold and darkness

Like it or not, winter teaches an important lesson. There is no light without shadow, abundance without hardship, summer without winter. Winter is not the enemy of the sun, but a natural complement, just as death is the natural complement to life. As hard as it is, take some time to think about what has left your life or what you need to let go of before you can move on to the season of spring renewal and growth. Take time to mourn that which you have lost, to fully acknowledge regrets and what you could have done better.

This is not to make you feel bad about yourself or about the tragedies of this particular year, but to face them as they are, not avoid them or diminish them. I truly believe that we cannot ignore the darker parts of our lives or our world if we are to truly grow and move on from them. This isn't easy, so please take care of yourself and don't push yourself beyond what you are mentally and emotionally prepared for. When in doubt, go talk to a professional.

6.  Plan a celebration and ritual for the Winter Solstice

If you're in the northern hemisphere, you still have plenty of time to prepare something special for the winter solstice on Monday, December 21st. The longest night of the year is a great chance to do any of the aforementioned ideas, or create your own ritual to honor wintertime. It's the first day of Yule, so I know that many of you will already have celebrations or traditions planned, but the solstice is one of my absolute favorite days.

At the end of the longest night- the sun rises with a bright and shining glow as winter will begin to recede. If you can, you can stay awake for the longest night until the sun rises or I always make sure I wake up early enough to watch the sunrise and welcome the start of the Yule season. (I'll be sharing a list of virtual Yule ideas soon, so keep an eye out for that.)

I hope this helps you feel more connected to our amazing sun during this colder season. Feel free to add your own tips and rituals below, including your deity associations if that's a part of your practice.

If you're a witch and your practice is especially connected to the winter months, I would love love love to talk with you and learn more. I've been working on embracing the winter season as part of my practice and I would love to learn from you.

Have a wonderful day, fellow witches. Stay safe, mask up, and be blessed!

-Kate

[woodrokiro]

Bar Service (fic)

Fandom: Bleach

Characters/Pairing: IchiRuki

Summary: Bartenders--especially bartenders around the corner from her apartment--are strictly off limits. Restaurant AU. Written for @ichirukimonth . TW warning for mentioned child abuse. 

She doesn’t think much of the restaurant a few blocks away from her new apartment.

She always passes it to and from her work commute, of course. Maybe from time to time she glanced over, musing how it looks cute enough--a great place to take a date or some friends....

Before Rukia remembers: 1. She doesn’t have the time or capacity to date, and 2. She has no friends here yet… And probably won’t for a while, considering her lifelong difficulty making them in the first place. 

It’s fine by her, honestly. She likes throwing everything she has into her job, loves doing her best to earn a smile or laugh from her patients. That’s enough social interaction for her, and at the end of the day she can go home, pour a glass of wine, switch the television on to some silly drama and order takeout without mourning the “loss” of a Friday night.

So for the first few months that she’s living in Karakura: no. She doesn’t even think about stepping foot in Amore e Morte. 

Until she gets a particularly bad case at work. 

The fact that it was a foster child case alone makes her heart hurt--but of course, there’s always more with these sort of situations. 

A little girl named Hina, aged eight but looking so much smaller waiting there in her office. The social worker sitting with her--a woman named Rangiku, who Rukia knows a little and actually quite likes--squeezes Hina’s tiny hand before pulling Rukia to the side, quietly explaining the situation. 

Physical abuse from her former home where she had been for a year. Her teacher kept noticing bruises in odd places and finally called CPS, who did nothing for two months before the behavior escalated and Hina ended up in the ER.

Her new foster mom is a real nice lady, says she hasn’t been acting out or anything but… Rangiku shrugs, flashing a reassuring smile when the little girl looks their way. You know. 

She knows. 

So Rukia does what she does best: she goes to the little girl, introduces herself by her first name, and focuses on her work until she can sob angrily in her car at lunch break. 

And when her workday is done, when her emotions are fried and she’d really like a drink or three anywhere but her lonely apartment--she sees the restaurant’s sign, glowing warmly in the dusk light. 

Amore e Morte. Love and death. A weird name for a restaurant, she thinks, and wonders if the owners either don’t know Italian and thought the name was cool or are just uppity snobs. 

If you’d stop being so cynical you might go out and actually enjoy life. She can practically hear Renji’s voice scoffing in her ear now.

She parks her car at home before walking back over to the restaurant.

--

The outside of the restaurant is nice enough, but the inside is… Well. Lovely.

Brick walls painted white make the entire place look minimalist yet cozy. A couple of trendy paintings hanging sparsely through the restaurant makes the environment chic, but not overbearing. A few hanging lanterns bring just enough light to let everyone see where they’re going, but otherwise candles are utilized at each of the tables for a romantic touch.

Rukia sees by the sheer number of couples there that it is indeed a good place to bring a date.

And by the looks of one dish smelling deliciously of chicken and bell peppers that passes her by in a waiter’s hand, the food isn’t too bad either. Rukia’s mouth waters. 

“A table for one, miss?” 

Rukia startles from her musings, feeling rather silly as the bright and cheery hostess smiles patiently back. 

“Oh! No, I don’t think that’s necessary. I wouldn’t want to take up one of your tables. Do you have bar seating?”

“Of course! Right this way.” 

The hostess leads her into an adjacent room that sits tucked away from the main dining room. There’s still a couple of tables in this room, and two of the eight bar stools are occupied but it’s so much quieter here, the noise of the dining room a mere buzz. She breathes a small sigh of relief as she takes the stool at the far end. She wanted to be out and about, just… Not that out and about.

“Our bartender Kurosaki-kun will be taking care of you. I believe he’s just in the back talking to Chef, he should be right back.”

Rukia thanks her, taking a glance at the menu. 

She quickly finds out Chef Yasutora Sado’s menu inspiration is Mexican-Japanese fusion cuisine, which is… Interesting, considering the restaurant’s name is Italian. In any case, she’s fascinated. Rukia by no account considers herself a foodie, but the thought of blending traditional Japanese dishes with Mexican spices and turning them into something like sukiyaki tacos makes her stomach growl. 

“Can I get you something other than water to drink?”

Her gaze flickers from the menu to the well-toned arm extended out toward her, pouring a glass of water. Her eyes move up the arm to the man it’s attached to. 

A handsome guy, she’ll admit: if it wasn’t for the obviously bleached orange hair, the sword tattoo on his forearm peeking out from under his rolled sleeve, and the fact that he looked like he wanted to be literally anywhere else.

If she had to pick him out from a crowd, there’s no doubt she’d know him as a bartender. What a walking cliche. 

“Yes, I’ll take--” She didn’t even take a glance at the drink menu. She looks down quickly. “Sorry. Can I get a matcha mojito?” 

He nods, his hands suddenly flying through liquors and shakers and mixes to make her drink. “You ready for food, too?” 

“Any recommendations?” 

“Everything.”

She snorts. She’d be irritated by the subpar service if it wasn’t for his small smirk at her response. 

“Seriously, everything’s good here. If you get something you don’t like, drinks are on me.”

“Risky.” Rukia lifted an eyebrow. “You place that bet with every customer?”

“Every single one.” 

She highly doubts that, but she appreciates the trust in his workplace nonetheless. She orders a couple of small plates, and he tends to his other drink orders while she sips her own. 

The food, when it comes out, is… Infuriatingly good. Infuriating because she would have loved to have scored a couple free drinks off the arrogant punk bartender, but she’ll have to swallow her pride because the sukiyaki taco is absolute divinity. She sips her second drink, already accepting that she’s gonna have to admit to him she’ll be paying full price for everything she ordered.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like she’ll have a chance to gloat. From what she hears next door, dinner service has picked up and with that: drink orders. He’s doing as well as he can--hands expertly flying through the liquors, garnishing the cocktails with an expert flourish before passing them on to a server--but she can tell he’s feeling the stress, particularly when he reads his second to last ticket in the rush.

“Fuck,” she hears as he rolls his eyes, stalking over to the wine cabinet. A server comes by, concerned. 

“You need anything, Ichigo?”

He waves a hand, not turning to look at his coworker. “No, no I’m fine. Just annoying when I don't open a bottle before rush, that’s all.”

The server scuttles off to tend to her tables while Rukia watches him bang a (very expensive looking) wine bottle on the counter, clumsily ripping into the foil with an opener. At one point he cuts his thumb, and he half-hazardly wraps a paper napkin around it while he tries helplessly to pull the cork up. The wine opener doesn’t grip the bottle steadily a couple of times, she waits on baited breath to see if he’ll break the bottle. After a few dangerous-looking test runs, he manages to hoist the cork up, cursing out a “fucking finally” at the sound of the cork popping.

The whole thing must have taken ten minutes.

Maybe it’s the matcha mojitos finally hitting her, but she can’t help it. She laughs. 

He shoots her a wild look and she covers her chuckles with the back of her hand. 

“Sorry, sorry! I’m not--it’s not funny. I just… That was the most atrocious opening of a wine bottle I’ve ever seen.”

Ichigo stares for a moment before scoffing, turning back to his (finally opened) bottle and pours the wine into a glass. “Yeah, well… I don’t do wine service here, lady.”

“Excuse me? That’s ridiculous. You’re a bartender.”

“Exactly. Bartender. I do cocktails, not fancy wine stuff.”

“Let me guess, you consider yourself a mixologist.”

“Don’t ever call me that. Ever.” He’s shaking his head as he moves on to his next order, but oddly enough Rukia feels like she knows he’s suddenly having a good time. “Like I said, I don’t do wine etiquette and all that. That’s for the servers.”

“I’m just… It’s hard to believe you’ve made it this far in a nicer restaurant’s bar without knowing how to open wine.”

“Not that far. I’ve been here for like, six months.” He shrugs at her inquisitive stare. “Old buddies with the chef. I bar backed in college where he was a line cook, so… And if he ever got sick of me, my sister is his sous chef. Then again, she’s more likely to fire me than he is, the brat.”

“Especially with you not knowing how to open a fine vintage.”

“Get over it. When it’s not busy I get one of the servers to help me.” He looks down, having seemingly forgotten about his paper toweled thumb. “Shit. Hang on, I gotta get a bandaid from the back--”

“I have some, if you want.” Rukia starts digging through her purse. “If there’s not some restaurant code for the kind of bandage you’re supposed to use, of course.”

“If it looks neater than a shoddy paper towel job, ‘should be fine. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Here.” 

He stares at her outstretched hand. She stares back, getting more irritated as she waits. 

“What?”

“... It’s a Chappy bandaid.”

“So?”

“So why are you a grown ass woman carrying around Chappy bandaids?” 

“They’re for my patients, for kids.” She’s telling the truth, technically. To say she also quite enjoys Chappy as a character does not need to be mentioned. “Do you want it or not? Swallow your manly pride or go looking for an ugly beige bandage while your tickets pile up again. Tick tock.”

“Fine! All right, already.” He takes the bandaid and starts unpeeling the paper adhesive. “You a pediatrician or something?” 

“Child psychologist.” Suddenly Rukia remembers Hina’s sweet face and feels terrible for not thinking about her once this entire dinner. 

“Jesus.” Ichigo’s shaking his head, pressing Chappy to his cut.

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the guilt, maybe it’s the fact that it’s such a weird response to her revealing her profession, but Rukia can’t help it. She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms.

If he’s uncomfortable with her sudden hostility, he doesn’t show it. He shrugs. “It’s just… I can imagine it’s a hard job. Sometimes, anyway.” 

Oh. 

“Oh,” she exhales. “I’m sorry, I--yes. It can be, yes.I just… That sort of response I’ve only ever gotten from people that don’t believe in the importance of mental health. ‘Shrink talk’ and what have you.”

“Nah, I believe it.” He’s finished his job of covering his wound and moved on to his next drink order. 

She’s abashedly stirring the ice in her glass when she barely hears him say: “I had to go to a children���s therapist once, as a kid. Helped me a lot.”

She raises her head to look at him. He hasn’t changed his facial expression, nor is there any change to his body language as he continues to do his job--but as a psychologist, Rukia can’t help but wonder whether she’s the first person he’s ever told this to. 

“Me too. When I was a child, I… A therapist had helped me, too.” She raises her glass and clears her throat. “To recognizing childhood trauma, I suppose.”

He lets out a short laugh at the sudden dark joke, a sound so quick and so… So nice she can’t stop the fleeting thought that it’s a sound she’d like to hear more of. She shoves it away. 

Bartenders are absolutely off limits. 

He raises the glass that he’s mixing a cocktail in. “Yeah. Cheers.”

--

Later when she finally picks up the check, she pauses.

“Excuse me.” She waves Ichigo down, maybe just a tad tipsy. “You got the check wrong.”

He frowns, taking the bill from her and scanning it. “What are you…”

“You forgot to put a drink on there. My third one.”

It clicks and he rolls his eyes. “Oh my god.”

“What? I’m being honest.”

“It’s on me.” He slides the receipt back to her. 

“But I didn’t dislike any of the dishes!”

“Take some advice, will you Doc? If the restaurant staff didn’t put something on your bill and you still got it, chances are: we wanted to give it to you.” They lock eyes for an intense moment before he clears his throat, looks down to wipe his (suspiciously clean) bar. “‘To childhood trauma,’ and all that. Now stop yapping so loud about it. You want everyone in the restaurant to hear about me giving out free stuff?”

She shuts her mouth at that, but one small detail about what he said is bothering her.

“It’s not ‘Doc,’ so you know. I have a name. It’s Rukia. Rukia Kuchiki.”

“Okay. Whatever, Rukia.” He turns around and waves his hand. “And I’m Ichigo. Just pay your damn bill and come back soon or whatever.”

And with that: she guesses she has a new spot.

[notyetneedcoffee]

Soul Seer, pt. 15

Loki Master List

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: just fluff!

Author’s Note: Takes place right after Avengers 1, with time travel elements and hints of Infinity Wars. Does NOT follow cannon after Avengers.

 Your fingers trailed along the steel frame of the wall of windows lining the walkway. Outside the sun gave the illusion of warmth, even though you knew it was cold. For the moment you aimlessly wondered, having free time before meeting with Steve and Natasha. You’d begun learning to fight a few months back.

Since staying at the Compound, Loki spent most of his days working with Banner, occasionally meeting over video conference in disguise with the other members of the worldwide team Stark put together to plan the energy migration. There was a lot of work to be done, and it needed to happen at human pace… or at least a Stark and Banner pace… because Loki was supposed to be dead.

A flash startled you from your musings. Out in the lawn now stood Thor, looking serious. His eyes moved quickly about, and when they landed on you a bright smile lit his face. Odd, you thought the windows were solid black from the outside.

Thor pointed to the end of the building. You knew a door led outside there, so you began to walk in that direction. His long strides allowed him to be inside and climbing the open stairs to the second floor. His booming voice echoed down the hall as soon as he saw you.

“Ah! Lady Y/N!” He smiled. “How fare you?”

“Well,” You accepted his warm hug. “I’m doing well here.”

“And my brother?”

“Way better than I ever would have thought.” Steve Rogers’ voice interjected from the stairs. “When did you get here?”

“Just now.” The two shared a back slapping greeting.

“Come on down,” Steve motioned to the elevator with a tilt of his head.

The three of you descended to the lower laboratories of the complex. You could see Bruce leaning against a work table, one arm wrapped around his middle and the other hand rubbing his forehead. Loki paced the room talking animatedly with his hands.

He wore your favorite dark green silk shirt. It always made you want to rub against him. You paused at the door, admiring his graceful strides. Bruce must have thought your hesitation was something else, because he waved you in and met you at the glass sliding door.

“We’re just on audio.” He spoke quietly.

Loki argued with someone on the line about power consumption. His voice, not his own, sounded higher and with a distinct eastern seaboard accent. “I can assure you, Mr. Archer, this solution is not a temporary one. The need for your power plants to run on fossils will be forever obsolete.”

“If you think we’re going to leave our shareholders hanging while…” The anger in the man’s voice was unmistakable.

“This guy just won’t buy in.” Bruce rolled his eyes.

Loki saw you and waved you closer. Your arms automatically slid around his waist as his right arm pulled you closer. His body language looked calm and relaxed. He felt calm and relaxed to you. However, his voice held an all to human tension when he spoke. “I don’t want to call in the Council, Mr. Archer.”

This set the man off again. Loki just grinned.

“I’ll be calling the Secretary of Energy and Senator Rowlins about this.”

“Please do.” Loki replied. “Let them explain it you. You need to remember we’re offering this five year transition period and incentive package so your shareholders won’t unduly suffer. But if you refuse to adapt your plant to the new technology obtained from the alien research, or some other form of renewable energy, you’ll just be forced out of the game.”

“Do not dictate to me, young man!”

“No, I’m just pointing out your choices. Adapt or die, that’s the way of things. You’re being offered good recompence and decent amount of time. The Council could just release this technology tomorrow. What would that do you shareholdings?” Loki grinned.

You absently rubbed you fingers over his silk clad stomach. He loved this, upsetting these people’s world order, causing chaos in their shelter selfish worlds. It fed his mischievous nature.

“You’ll be hear from our lawyers!”

“Can’t wait.” Loki touched a button, ending the call. He pressed his lips to your forehead. “Miss me, my pet?”

“Always.” You grinned.

Thor and Steve watched the two of you from the hall. Cap leaned a little closer, whispering. “I think he really likes making all these world industry leaders dance.”

“What is the Midgardian saying? He’s using his powers for good?” Thor whispered back.

Steve chuckled. “I s’pose.”

“I never thought I would see him so calm.” Thor mused.

“Oh, he gets in a rage, gets frustrated.” Steve buried his hands in his pockets. “But it blows over, and he keeps his word, and so long as she’s safe… that keeps him… balanced.”

Thor nodded, lifting a hand when Loki’s eyes turned to him. A frown crossed the darker brother’s face. He pulled away from you and walked out to the hall. You followed.

“Thor.”

“Brother.”

They stared at one another. Finally, you broke the silence. “What brings you around? Everything okay? Or is this just a social visit.”  

“Father asked me to come.” You felt Loki tense, but gave no indication as Thor continued. “Heimdall has been keeping his eyes on you and reporting on your activities.”

“If Heimdall is watching, then why send you?” He snapped.

“Loki.” You frowned, looking up at him. “Did you mean that to be as rude as it sounded?”

Thor’s brow arched in surprise. Steve bit his lip to hold back a grin, he learned chuckling at the way you corrected Loki was disastrous for everyone.

Loki looked down at your scowl and blew out air through his nose. “It’s old habits, I suppose.” He turned his eyes back to Thor, rewording his question. “So, what is it that Father wants?”

Though not an apology, the God of Thunder could scarcely believe his brother allowed you to admonish him, much less that he would heed your words. He knew the two of you shared a bond, knew that you’d touched each other’s minds. But, he could feel this was different.

“Perhaps we should discuss this in private.” Thor began to venture.

“You might as well spit it out, brother.” Loki rolled his eyes. “I’m not granted anything as privileged as privacy here.” Then he smirked. “Besides, there is no one in this company who would betray a trust.”

Thor crossed his arms and shrugged. “Father sent me, but it was a mother’s bidding.”

“What of mother?” Loki became instantly more in tune. You knew how he felt for her, knew how he missed her.

“She says something rare has occurred, says she can feel it in her magic.” Thor gave a lopsided grin. “Now that I’m here, I think she’s right.”

“What? Dammit, get to the point!”

“She says you’ve taken a mate.”

Loki’s mouth fell open. You and Steve looked at each other, confused. You never said in traditional words but no one doubted that you and Loki loved one another. So why was shock and confusion rolling through Loki’s mind.

“I don’t get it.” Banner looked between Thor and Loki.

“Our kind, our people, love and marry. It’s not unheard of, though they are not always monogamous. Even then there are exceptions, like our parents are now. But even early on, father was known to wander and mother had…”

“Don’t say that cretin’s name.” Loki scowled.

“But a mate,” Thor continued. “A pair that is tied together for the centuries of our lifetimes, is a rare thing. It is more common with the Alfheim, but it occurs with every race upon Yggdrasil. I don’t know if it was the touching of your minds, or if that was just a catalyst to what was destined to be, but I agree with mother. It’s true.”

A mixture of awe and elation filled you, only to be drowned in a crashing wave of sorrow and desperation. Your hand reached for Loki’s, and he gripped your fingers tightly. Tears filled your eyes as you tried to bite back a sob.

Steve said your name quietly, seeing the change.

You looked to him, tears falling silently. “I don’t have centuries. In what will seem like a blink of an eye, I will grow old and die and there’s nothing Loki can do to stop it.”

Cap’s face fell. He knew that heartache and would not wish it upon anyone, ever.

Thor’s strong hand gripped Loki’s shoulder. His other gently touched your cheek. “Do not do this. Do not mourn for what has not happen yet. Live joyously right now. I will tell Mother what I’ve seen. She will not allow such a tragedy to pass, especially when it’s within Father’s ability to prevent it.”

Loki gave him a sad smile. “I am sentenced to a century for my crimes. He’s not going to grant me an Apple with less than one in a hundred years served.”

“Mother is persuasive, you know better than most.” Thor beamed. “It may take a year, or five, or ten, but Mother and I will make Odin see what needs to be done.” Thor turned to you. “You understand of what we speak?”

The Apple of Immortality. You knew. Trying to weed through the bad memories of all the times Odin hurt and disappointed Loki, you searched for all the times Frigga’s influence worked upon their Father. Little concessions for the children to serious matters of state, she did hold sway over her husband. Suddenly you realized she held so much influence, that she used it sparingly as to not abuse it.

It might be okay after all.

You nodded slowly. “You mother is a formidable woman, kind, and she loves you both. Alright,” You smiled up at Loki, wiping your tears away. “There’s no point in wasting energy on worrying. You’re right, we live for today. But, Thor, we’re placing our trust in you.”

His big arms pulled you close, despite Loki’s growl, and he dropped a kiss into your hair. “I will not fail you, little sister. Mother is going to adore you.”

“Stop manhandling her,” Loki grumbled. “She is mine.”

You giggled, slipping from Thor’s bear hug and into Loki’s arms.

“How long are you staying?” Steve asked, not one hundred percent sure of the agreement, but satisfied that you were all happy.

“You need to tell her right way.” Loki answered at the same time Thor boomed “There is time to feast and celebrate!”

You squeezed Loki a little tighter. “We can wait a night. Maybe Thor will get you drunk and I’ll get to take advantage of you for a change.”

Loki’s eyes grew wide before he laughed heartily.

Yeah, you sighed, things were going to be alright.  

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[michaelbogild]

Quotes by Lord Byron

Adversity is the first path to truth.

All farewells should be sudden, when forever.

All who would win joy, must share it; happiness was born a twin.

Always laugh when you can, it is cheap medicine.

And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy; They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being.

And gave no outward signs of inward strife

And mind and dust- and passions and pure thoughts

And when we think we lead, we are most led

As long as I retain my feeling and my passion for Nature, I can partly soften or subdue my other passions and resist or endure those of others.

Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray.

Being of no party, I shall offend all parties

Between two worlds life hovers like a star, twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge.

But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence; the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of.

But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence; the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of.

But who, alas! can love, and then be wise?

But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling, like dew, upon a thought produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions think

Come, lay thy head upon my breast and I'll kiss thee unto rest.

Dark-heaving; boundless, endless, and sublime, The image of Eternity, -- the throne Of the Invisible! even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone

Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.

Eat, drink and love...the rest is not worth a nickel

Eternity forbids thee to forget.

Even innocence itself has many a wile, And will not dare to trust itself with truth, And love is taught hypocrisy from youth

For Earth is but a tombstone

For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe, And love itself have rest.

For there was soft remembrance, and sweet trust In one fond breast, to which his own would melt, And in its tenderer hour on that his bosom dwelt.

For truth is always strange; stranger than fiction.

Friendship may, and often does, grow into love, but love never subsides into friendship.

Had they been wisely mingled; as it is

Hath all the energy which would have made

he knew how to make madness beautiful

I am ashes where once I was fire...

I am so changeable, being everything by turns and nothing long - such a strange melange of good and evil.

I can never get people to understand that poetry is the expression of excited passion.

I do not believe in any religion, I will have nothing to do with immortality. We are miserable enough in this life without speculating upon another.

I feel my immortality over sweep all pains, all tears, all time, all fears, – and peal, like the eternal thunders of the deep, into my ears, this truth, – thou livest forever!

I had a dream, which was not at all a dream.

I have a great mind to believe in Christianity for the mere pleasure of fancying I may be damned.

I know that two and two make four - and should be glad to prove it too if I could - though I must say if by any sort of process I could convert 2 and 2 into five it would give me much greater pleasure.

I linger yet with Nature, for the night Hath been to me a more familiar face Than that of man; and in her starry shade Of dim and solitary loveliness, I learned the language of another world.

I only go out to get me a fresh appetite for being alone.

I slept and dreamt that life was beauty; I woke and found that life was duty.

I suppose I had some meaning when I wrote it; I believe I understood it then.

In secret we met - In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee? - With silence and tears

In solitude, where we are least alone

In vain!—As fall the dews on quenchless sands, Blood only serves to wash Ambition's hands!

It is an awful chaos-light and darkness-

Life's enchanted cup sparkles near the brim

Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.

Mix'd, and contending without end or order

My pang shall find a voice.

Oh too convincing - dangerously dear - In woman's eye the unanswerable tear

On with the dance! Let joy be undefined!

One certainly has a soul; but how it came to allow itself to be enclosed in a body is more than I can imagine. I only know if once mine gets out, I’ll have a bit of a tussle before I let it get in again to that of any other

Opinions are made to be changed – or how is truth to be got at?

Prometheus-like from heaven she stole The fire that through those silken lashes In darkest glances seems to roll, From eyes that cannot hide their flashes: And as along her bosom steal In lengthened flow her raven tresses, You'd swear each clustering lock could feel, And curled to give her neck caresses.

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean - roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; Man marks the earth with ruin - his control Stops with the shore

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes

Sigh to the stars, as wolves howl to the moon...

Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world, And a wide realm of wild reality, And dreams in their development have breath, And tears and tortures, and the touch of joy.

So, we'll go no more a-roving So late into the night, Though the heart still be as loving, And the moon still be as bright.

Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest, the tree of knowledge is not the tree of life.

Start not—nor deem my spirit fled: In me behold the only skull From which, unlike a living head, Whatever flows is never dull.

The best of prophets of the future is the past.

The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space.

The dew of compassion is a tear

The drying up a single tear has more of honest fame than shedding seas of gore.

The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain

The great object of life is sensation—to feel that we exist, even though in pain. It is this ‘craving void’ which drives us to gaming—to battle—to travel—to intemperate but keenly felt pursuits of every description, whose principal attraction is the agitation inseparable from their accomplishment..

The heart will break, but broken live on.

The morn is up again, the dewy morn, With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom, Laughing the clouds away with playful scorn, And living as if earth contained no tomb,— And glowing into day.

The power of thought is the magic of the mind.

The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree I planted; they have torn me, and I bleed. I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.

There are four questions of value in life... What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for, and what is worth dying for? The answer to each is same. Only love

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but Nature more

There is music in all things, if men had ears.

There is no instinct like that of the heart

There is the moral of all human tales: ’Tis but the same rehearsal of the past, First Freedom, and then Glory - when that fails, Wealth, vice, corruption - barbarism at last. And History, with all her volumes vast, Hath but one page

There's music in the sighing of a reed; There's music in the gushing of a rill; There's music in all things, if men had ears; The earth is but the music of the spheres.

Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife, he would have written sonnets all his life?

This should have been a noble creature: he

Those who will not reason, are bigots, those who cannot, are fools, and those who dare not, are slaves.

Though the night was made for loving, And the day returns too soon, Yet we'll go no more a-roving By the light of the moon.

Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark our coming, and look brighter when we come

To have joy, one must share it.

To him the magic of their mysteries; To him the book of Night was opened wide, And voices from the deep abyss revealed A marvel and a secret.

Truth is a gem that is found at a great depth; whilst on the surface of the world all things are weighed by the false scale of custom.

We of the craft are all crazy. Some are affected by gaiety, others by melancholy, but all are more or less touched.

Who knows whether, when a comet shall approach this globe to destroy it, as it often has been and will be destroyed, men will not tear rocks from their foundations by means of steam, and hurl mountains, as the giants are said to have done, against the flaming mass? - and then we shall have traditions of Titans again, and of wars with Heaven...

Why I came here, I know not; where I shall go it is useless to inquire - in the midst of myriads of the living and the dead worlds, stars, systems, infinity, why should I be anxious about an atom?

With just enough of learning to misquote.

Yet he was jealous, though he did not show it, For jealousy dislikes the world to know it

You don't love a woman because she is beautiful, but she is beautiful because you love her. Never underestimate the power of love. The way to love anything is to realize it may be lost. The heart has its reasons that reason does not know at all. Music is love in search of a word. There is pleasure in the pathless woods; there is a rapture on the lonely shore; There is society, where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar.

[nineteenninety-six]

A Tragic Birthday - Pt 2

REQUEST: Can you do a part 2 to A Tragic Birthday with like the funeral and people talking about her and there best memories of her. But with the Shelbys and people like Johnny dogs and Alfie Solomon’s the Jesus’ people like that

Thanks again for 500 followers! You guys are the absolute best <3

TAG LIST: @shadow-of-wonder​ @stassiebabyy​ @futuristicslimemongerbanana​ @dayna041101​ @sweetgoodangel​ @captivatedbycillianmurphy​

WORD COUNT: 1613

[PART ONE]

Tommy felt his head began to pound as his siblings and aunt argued over how they were going to do (Y/N)’s final send off. It had been a few days since Tommy’s whole world came crashing around him and now he had to deal with her funeral and the rest of his family. He hadn’t had the chance to properly come to terms of what happened and mourn but he was slightly grateful because he knew that the mourning process would be rough and destructive and he really didn’t want to do it anytime soon.

Arthur and John wanted to do it the traditional gypsy way but Polly and Ada wanted to do it the traditional English way. They were going back and forth loudly and Tommy wanted to scream at them, he was mentally and physically exhausted and all he wanted to do was put his youngest sibling to rest without any drama.

Tommy already had problems sleeping ever since he came back from the war but ever since (Y/N)’s death he hadn’t been sleeping at all. Usually if he drank enough he would pass out but that wasn’t even working at the moment, all it led to was him being slightly drunk at work the next day. So instead of sleeping all he did at night was lay in bed and look out of the window while memories of (Y/N) tortured him.

“Enough!” Tommy cut off the argument, “We’ll give her a normal funeral and burial then we’ll burn the vardo after. Okay?”

Tommy looked at his family waiting for their agreement and when they did, he stormed out of the room and headed towards the Garrison, desperately needing a drink. He guessed that one of his family members was going to confront him at one point and when Polly joined him in the snug with a bottle of whiskey and a glass ten minutes later, he wasn’t surprised.

“You decided on a normal funeral service. I’m surprised.” Polly spoke first.

“This way I can visit her whenever I want.” Tommy took a large gulp of his drink. 

Polly’s heart clenched at Tommy’s reasoning, she knew that he was going to have the hardest time with (Y/N)’s death but now she doubted if he would ever recover.

“I think she’ll like somewhere that gets a lot of sunshine and is up high somewhere.” Polly said.

An location immediately came to Tommy at those words, he knew exactly where to bury her, “There’s a place just outside of Small Heath, large field on a hill overlooking the town. We’ll do it there.”

It was a place that (Y/N) constantly visited and found solace in, Tommy had brought her there originally and it became their place but as Tommy got busier with the company she went there by herself a majority of the time.

“Of course.” Polly finished the rest of her drink, “I’ll let you be.”

Tommy nodded his thanks and as soon as the door swung shut behind his aunt he poured himself another drink.

♣️♥️♣️♥️♣️♥️

Tommy stood in silence as Jeremiah read out the eulogy, he couldn’t hear the sobs coming from Aunt and sister as well as the sniffles coming from his brothers, he was trying his hardest but he was struggling to hold in his tears.

The funeral has been a small event, just the Shelby family, Johnny Dogs, Uncle Charlie, Curly and the Jesus’. 

They had no reason for a big one, knowing that (Y/N) would have wanted the people closest to her to attend. As the coffin was lowered into the burial plot and people began throwing the flowers they had been holding into the plot, Tommy finally broke. His shoulders shook with the force of the sobs he was trying so hard to keep in, he made no effort to wipe the tears that were running down his face. 

A hand on his arm pulled Tommy back into focus and when he looked to see who it was he found his aunt.

“We’ll meet you at the vardo.” She informed him, knowing that he’d want a few moments alone.

Once they left Tommy stalked forward to the grave and fell onto his knees,  not caring about the mud and finally let his cries free. He sobbed and screamed until his throat was raw, cursing the god that allowed this to happen. He took a few minutes to calm himself before he stood up and brushed the dirt off his trousers, when he turned around he was met with the hulking figure of Alfie Solomons. He had extended an invitation to the man but hadn’t expected his attendance.

“Alfie.” He greeted once he walked over to him.

“Tommy.” Alfie nodded, “‘m sorry for your loss.”

“Me too.” Tommy grunted.

“Blaming yourself doesn’t help anything.” Alfie informed in

Tommy lit himself a cigarette, “It’s hard not to Alfie.” 

“Do you think your sister would have blamed you?” 

“No. (Y/N) never held grudges.”

“And from what I have gathered, you were her favourite sibling.”

“Something like that” Tommy ‘s lips twitched

“Then she wouldn’t have blamed you.” Alfie theorised.

Tommy nodded, “You gonna join us on the other field?”

“Nah, you’re alright I’ll leave you lot to it.” Alfie declined the invitation.

“Thank you Alfie.”

Alfie nodded and patted Tommy on the shoulder, “Good lad.”

Tommy and Alfie parted ways and Tommy drove towards the field where Johnny Dogs had set up his own camp along with the vargo that held (Y/N)’s possessions. 

When he arrived everyone was placing the flowers on the pieces of wood that surrounded the caravan and when they noticed him they stepped back from the vargo. Tommy made his way over to the crowd and stood in front them, building his nerve and clearing his throat,

“Our (Y/N) left this world too early but during the time she spent on here she made a mark and impact on pretty much anyone she met. She made me a better brother and person and when I was away fighting in the war, I kept thinking about the three year old that I left behind, the one that made me want to change the world.” Tommy paused, “She was the final piece that completed the family and that won’t ever change.”

Tommy headed over to Arthur and passed him the matches and motioned him to do it before walking over to the crowd and standing next to Ada, who immediately wrapped her arm around his.

“You doing okay?” She asked.

“Not really.”

Ada nodded and turned back to where varo, the wooden logs surrounding it were lit and the fire was slowly spreading. Tommy squeezed her hand comfortingly as she began to tear up.

The family watched as the caravan was lit alight for a few minutes before Johnny Dogs came around passing drinks to everyone,

“This is a celebration of life! We reminisce about the happy memories and events we had with the littlest Shelby, no need for the gloom!” He shouted as he walked around.

“Right, remember how she managed to convince me, Arthur and Tommy to buy her a book even though we had a strict rule about she had to finish one before she could get another.” John spoke up first. His story making everyone laugh

“She had the three of you wrapped around her little finger.” Polly laughed.

“Never could trick Ada though could she” Arthur grumbled

“That’s because she learnt those tricks from me. I’m immune to them.” Ada spoke up.

“All she needed to do was pout in your direction and you’d be offering to buy out the whole story. I know she managed to get whichever of you was picking her up from school a bag of sweets for her on the way home” Polly recalled with a smile, “Even though I strictly forbade you to do so.”

“Tommy was the worst! You’d always find them sitting in front of the fire sharing sweets at the end of the day.” Ada chimed in.

“All that sugar making her hyper before bed.” Polly rolled her eyes but smiled. “I made sure you were the one to put her to bed when you started to do that.”

“Tommy’s word was gospel, he told her to go to sleep and she’d go to sleep. “ John said

Everyone laughed at that, knowing how true it was. (Y/N) and Tommy were two peas in a pod.

“I remember when she was a baby she absolutely refused to be held by anyone other than Tom and Pol, screeched her little head off giving everyone on the street a headache until she back in one of their arms.” Arthur recalled.

“The amount of complaints we got.” Tommy laughed.

“What was her first word?” Michael asked.

“Tom!” The Shelby’s all exclaimed, laughing afterwards.

“Fuckin’ smug he was when it happened” John snickered.

“Don’t be jealous John.” Tommy chirped.

“Remember when Tommy found out that (Y/N) had been getting Michael to do her maths homework?” Finn spoke up, loving the stories of the sibling that was closest in age to him.

“I thought he was going to kill me!” Michael said, “I didn’t know it was her homework, she tricked me.”

“She was a good egg, too nice and kind for the horrible world.” Arthur mourned, “But she will be missed.”

Tommy raised his glass in the air, “To (Y/N)!”

“(Y/N)!” Everyone cheered.

The rest of the night followed in a similar fashion, drinks, food and good memories going around celebrating the life of a person very important to them.

[grunge-mermaid]

grunge rewatches Doctor Who

01x01 "Rose"

I miss low-budget Who. now it's all lens flares and explosions

that is the most 2005 haircut I have ever seen

run

Christopher Eccleston was good

definitely the right choice to bring back the series, also the right choice to only do one season

I miss the simple sonic screwdriver

oh Jackie...

Doctor What

Rose is not playing your games, sir

oh man these graphics

plastic Mickey is uh something

TARDIS!!

lots of planets have a north

is Jackie Tyler the opposite of Donna Noble (always accidentally in the thick of it vs completely oblivious to everything)

wow Mickey really is terrible isn't he?

I would jump in that TARDIS in a nanosecond how do you even consider turning that down?

especially with Jodie Whittaker my beloved at the helm

01x02 "The End of the World"

oh hey it's the fob watch!

what is the date system in the year 5 Billion?

flirting with a tree. sometimes I forget Julian Bashir is not the only horny alien fucker

FACE OF BOE

the iPod!!

why are you telling this to the plumber?

I know I said I'd jump in the TARDIS in a nanosecond but those are things you should have considered before getting in, Rose

the Doctor has a point with the Deep South comment

diversity win! your racist flesh trampoline is trans!

let us mourn her with a traditional ballad *plays Britney Spears- Toxic* genuinely one of the best moments of the entire show, classic & new

why does the Sun Filter Descending warning sound like the fucking drive through at the Dairy Queen?

fyi, Cassandra, there's an e on the end of "j'accuse" so you pronounce the "s"

honestly, the British grasp of the French language just astonishes me (most of this rage comes from Escape to the Country and Great British Bake Off)

you...you need to be clever to turn a dial in the opposite direction? ok doctor

I think I had that Rimmel mascara in high school

01x03 "The Unquiet Dead"

ah fuck. zombies. I really hate zombies. I have internalized kinemortophobia

(bc I myself am a zombie, in case the joke wasn't clear)

(yes I had to look up the word for a fear of zombies)

"an error has occurred please try again" Crave really trying to protect me from myself

oh there we go

no, Crave, I refuse to skip the best New Who intro there ever was

Gwyneth my beloved

"you look beautiful considering you're human" excuse me sir who was calling out Rose on her racism just one episode ago?

but god dang Billie Piper in a Victorian dress

the skin on my neck is crawling right now but I'm gonna power through

I'm gonna power through all the zombie episodes

what the Shakespeare is going on? heh

ohhhhhh noooooo not the creepy hissing-whispering bullshit no please no

angry Billie Piper in a Victorian dress with a cane? that's just cruel

officially a Rose/Gwyneth stan over here

Bad Wolf!

STOP WITH THE CREEPY WHISPERY CHILDREN'S VOICES I BEG OF YOU

"time isn't a straight line, it can be twisted into any shape" vs "wibbly wobbly timey wimey" sums up the difference between Nine and Ten perfectly

ok one more episode for this post (but I will probably keep making these)

01x04 "Aliens of London"/ 01x05 "World War Three"

oh for fuck's sake it's the slitheen

I mean this was first and foremost a children's show of course they're gonna have fart joke aliens

as someone who has recurring nightmares about her parents thinking she's gone missing (despite being active on social media and tagging my location in posts) & declaring her dead after a relatively short period of time, this is literally one of my worst fears. top 5 easily

more Bad Wolf!

I know this was 2005 but "you're so gay" as an insult in an episode written by a gay man who was also the show runner and therefore had the power to, you know, cut that line (or not even write it in the first place), is...odd?

HARRIET JONES

wow I really hate Mickey

like, I'm not missing the implications of a working class black man accused of murdering a pretty white woman and that is absolutely unfair

but seriously what a useless man-child

another diversity win! your genocidal fart monster is a bi/pan philanderer!

(ok so they don't indicate the gender of the "young farmer" he was having an affair with but I'm extrapolating bc they said "a mistress and a young farmer" instead of "two mistresses")

I do appreciate when shows are quietly queer but we also need good, solid, obvious, positive representation and we're not there yet

these graphics are killing me

ah fuck it's a two-parter

fine

I'll watch part 2

sorry this post is so long

(not sorry enough to put it under a cut tho)

"electricity slurping" is not a caption I expected to see but ok

yes, Mickey your basic Nokia is gonna get a really good pic of that fart monster, good work

ok that's more the fault of 2005 technology than Mickey's and it's better than nothing

I just really dislike Mickey

why were those steel barricades installed in 1991?

what was happening in 1991 that would necessitate that installation?

wouldn't it make more sense to have them installed sometime during the Cold War instead of right after it ended?

I know it was Uncertain Times after the Soviet Union collapsed, but they certainly weren't anywhere near as much of a threat in 1991 as they were in, say, 1962

Harriet Jones using her Karen energy for good

oh actually that's a pretty good picture for a 2005 Nokia

Raxacoricofallapatorius!

...why is the Prime Minister's desk covered in skittles?

voicemail dooms us all. does it ever

Harriet Jones is a tory isn't she?

that's all for this round of grunge rewatches doctor who (I got distracted by reddit around the voicemail line).

[marveloussupernerd]

It’s Good Luck - Jumin Han

This is the last part (maybe? Idk) of my Jumin wedding series bc all of a sudden I have baby fever and want to write a pregnant series oop. In fact, I had to FORCE myself to write this ceremony. I might write a reception chapter later, who knows. Reminder: this is part of a mini-series but everything can be read and interpreted as one shots if you’re like me and dislike series haha also idk if this even makes sense but I hope you maybe like it?

Summary: they say rain on your wedding day is good luck. Jumin takes that to a new level and proposes you go outside in the rain before you’re due at the reception.

You had returned to your dressing room, watching as the men in the sharp suits carried your flowers and chairs from the tent outside to the building. Why did it have to rain? Sure, they said it was good luck, and you didn’t truly care so long as you were marrying Jumin, but you had looked forward to the outdoor wedding. You had planned for an outdoor wedding, not one inside.

“Don’t worry about it,” your wedding planner comforted you, noticing your mournful expression as you looked at the heavy raindrops running down the window, “We’re going to do everything in our power to bring the outdoors in. Do you want to give it a look-over before we start everything?”

Honestly? It would make you feel better. You nodded, standing up and straightening out your wedding dress. You followed behind her, taking the back way to avoid any guests, and made your way into their indoor venue.

They did a really good job for such a short amount of time. The wall of flowers was up behind the altar, large flower arrangements were set by each row of seats, and gigantic mounds of flowers lined each side of the aisle. It was pretty. Yes, outside would have been ideal, but whatever. This was lovely as well!

“Is it to your liking?” The wedding planner asked, nervously toying with her watch.

You nodded. “It’s very nice. Would it be possible, maybe, to get a different color table cover for the altar? The cream worked well for the outdoors but now it’s a little too... casual.” You had learned a thing or two from planning the RFA parties after all.

“Would you prefer white then?”

“How about an antique white? You cringed internally; you sounded so uptight. But you knew antique white would look best with the color tones of the room. “Oh! If you don’t have it just normal white will do as well.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it set up right now. Any other changes you’d like to make?”

“Is there any way to dim the lights? They’re a little bright... it’s giving me a hospital feel.” You added awkwardly. Your wedding planner walked over to a panel and immediately dimmed the lights. “Perfect. It’s lovely. Thank you for doing all this,” you turned to her, smiling.

“If that’s all you need, I’ll get somebody to switch out the cloth and then we can start seating guests,” she offered. You smiled and nodded.

When you arrived at your room you were greeted with even more surprises: this time there was a masseuse, table set up and everything. “Hi, are you MC? Mr. Han called for me,” she greeted, holding out a hand for you to shake, which you took.

“Oh! What a nice surprise.”

“Yes, he said it was quite urgent. I understand this all must be pretty stressful. My wedding got rained out too, but the good thing is my husband and I have been married for over thirty years now.” The lady seemed very warm; her presence was comforting. You allowed yourself to sit down on the edge of her table.

“I’m not sure how much time we have, but would you mind doing my shoulders and back? I’ve got a lot of tension in there from everything going on.” You still felt awkward being accomadated so well, but it was something you had to get used to, especially because you were marrying Jumin.

“Of course,” you felt her push your veil to the side, fingers gently working around your upper back. “You weren’t kidding: you are tense. Did you have trouble sleeping last night?”

You let out a laugh. “That tradition that the groom can’t see the bride on the wedding day. I’ve been sleeping next to my fiancée for months now. It was hard not to, and the pre-wedding jitters didn’t help.”

“Well,” she commented, her hands hitting a knot by your shoulders and gently trying to work it out. “I can tell it’ll all be worth it. He seems like a very nice man, and he definitely cares about you.”

“Yes, I’m not sure how many other brides get masseuses in minutes before their wedding,” you joked, a fond smile on your face. A knock at the door. The wedding planner peeked in. “You’ve got about five minutes until it’s go time.”

You thanked the lady and went to take your spot, waiting for your entrance. As you heard the bridal march start playing, you anxiously stepped into the room, heavy bouquet in hand. The antique white looked quite nice, you thought to yourself. It was a good choice. In front of the tablecloth though.

How could he possibly be even more handsome than usual? Maybe it was the light gray suit, a stark contrast to his typical black attire. Maybe it was the glisten in his eyes as they watered with tears. Maybe it was the smile that he couldn’t hide- no, he didn’t want to hide. Walking to him felt like running a marathon; it took forever.

Finally your hands were in his. Him mouthing how beautiful you looked, wiping away a stray tear that leaked down his cheek. You didn’t realize you had such a death grip on his hands until he started gently running his thumb over your hands, easing the tension.

“You and me only, remember?” He whispered softly. You wanted to hug him. No, that would be weird. The priest was quite literally in the middle of his speech. You but your lip and looked down at your shoes.

A hand on your cheek brought your attention up. Was this allowed? Why did you never go through this wedding etiquette?

The words spoken were a blur. Jumin recited his vows perfectly, not straying from the traditional vows. The two of you had agreed that you would rather share those thoughts, those emotions, in private. You stumbled over the words when it was your turn. For richer or for poorer? Not only was the statement comical considering the Hans’ wealth, but why was it so hard to say? Jumin’s lips quirked into a smile upon hearing you fumble, and it made you feel better to see him smile like that.

Finally, finally the moment had come. “You may now kiss the bride.” Swept up in the moment, Jumin pulled you close in one swift motion for a kiss. You had agreed to keep it chaste and sweet, but he hadn’t seemed to remember that part of it!!!!! You pulled away before it got too PG-13, planting a kiss on his cheek and promising him more later.

“How soon is later?” He asked, pouting for what was likely one of the first times in his life. “I just want to embrace my wife. We still have a reception after this?” He groaned.

“You’re so needy today Honey,” you teased, the two of you sharing your own moment at the front of the room while the guests filed out.

“We don’t have to do anything. It’s just... I had trouble sleeping last night without you. You can’t blame a man for wanting to hold his wife in his arms and never let go.” He flushed, rubbing the back of his neck.

The guests had finally filed out and it was your turn to leave, greeting them at the exit. “I’ve noticed you saying wife a lot,” you teased, holding his hand tight, your cathedral-length veil wrapped around his free arm so that you wouldn’t trip or get caught up by it.

“Well, I like it.” It was such a simple statement, but it made your heart race. The two of you finished thanking your guests, and it was time for the cocktail hour to start. You and Jumin had planned about ten minutes together without a photographer or anything just so you could take in the events of the day and reflect together. You had been looking forward to it for hours.

“You know all those things you vowed to me?” You asked, staring out the window as he helped you remove your veil. The rain hadn’t slowed; it was wise of you to move it inside.

“Sickness and health, better or worse, rich or poor, those things?” He listed them off as if they were so simple. It made you laugh.

“How about in grace and in stupidity?”

He plopped your veil down on a bench. “What? My love you’re not stu-“

“You wanna go out into the rain with me? It’ll be fun... and we have about eight minutes after to dry off before pictures,” you proposed. It was an AWFUL idea. It was pouring. You had your hair and makeup done. This dress was designer.

“Truly?” He asked, looking skeptically.

“Yeah in retrospect it’s a bad idea. I don’t know, I thought it was good luck or something.”

Out of nowhere, he swept you into his arms, barreling towards the exit to the building. “Jumin!” You shrieked. “I take it back! I said it was a bad idea!”

“But it’s good luck,” he shouted as he swung open the door, trying to be heard over the rain. He looked cautiously at the puddles forming on the sidewalks, then took a deep breath. “In grace and in stupidity?”

“Of course, my husband.”

It was out of a movie. The dramatic kiss in the rain. All the passion Jumin had wanted to put into your kiss when you were standing in front of all your family and friends. The rain dribbling down your back. It made you squeal. He couldn’t stop laughing. He held his hand above your head, attempting to shield your makeup from the rain. It didn’t help.

What felt like eons later, he carried you back inside, setting you on a bench. He tried to keep a serious face, but burst out laughing. You had never heard him laugh so hard.

“Honey? Why are you laughing? Is it my makeup? Jumin!” Nothing could get his attention.

“We may need more than just eight minutes to dry off,” he chuckled, pushing back soaked strands of hair that were hanging on his face. “I’ll call Assistant Kang and let her know.”

“Was it worth it though?” You asked, trying to wipe your face (and failing).

“Oh absolutely,” he pulled you close to him. “I feel luckier already.”

[lailyn]

The Great Anzac Bake-Off

"Is that all you're having?" Stephen frowned. "It doesn't look very filling."

"It is a biscuit made of oats and baked in heavy syrup and butter. I assure you, it is more filling than your three-egg quinoa omelette," Loki mumbled as he nibbled on his sweet treat at an agonisingly slow pace. "It was certainly enough to fill the bellies of tens and thousands of soldiers back in the first World War. How kind of Darryl to remind me."

Stephen went quiet.

"I worry about you sometimes," he confessed.

"Why in the Nine would you?"

“Worry is too strong a word…” Stephen muttered. “Wonder, maybe.” 

He watched Loki listlessly stir the cold milk with the cookie clockwise, then, anticlockwise several times. 

"I wonder where you are," Stephen finally mumbled to himself.

"I had no idea your eyesight was so bad," Loki sniffed. "I am right here." 

"No, I mean...temporally speaking," Stephen said. "Your headspace doesn't sound like it's in the 21st century right now."

"Maybe it isn't."

Loki's sullen mood was a far cry from the ray of sunshine that had waltzed in through the Sanctum's front door that morning. Stephen wondered if he had upset Loki when he refused to partake in the gift of baked goods Loki had brought with him from New Asgard.

"It was my turn to cook for our breakfast date this week," Stephen reminded.

Loki shrugged and said nothing. 

At the sight of Loki's crestfallen face, Stephen's resolve faltered. He was not a fan of sweets but... 

"I'll have some later, okay?" Stephen placated. "They look sweet but I have braved far worse."

"Are we talking about the famine soup again?" Loki asked, stone-faced. "I was only paying tribute to my dear friend Alexis.” 

At the look of confusion on Stephen’s face, he queried incredulously, “Alexis Soyer? You do not know of him?”

“Should I?” Stephen returned coolly. 

“He was the unsung hero of the hungry and the poor. His soup kitchen fed thousands of starving Irish for free during the Great Irish Famine."

The facade cracked, and an embarrassed flush coloured Stephen’s cheeks. 

"No, I get it. I just…" he searched for the right words to say but he only ended up hesitating for far too long. "I guess I'm trying to figure out where I fit in."

"You need to stop being jealous of every dead friend I once had, Stephen."

Stephen had to center himself and think. Loki's thought process was difficult enough to follow on a normal day. A nostalgic Loki's was next to impossible, but Loki only ever said Stephen's name in that tone whenever he felt personally affronted.

"That is not what I meant at all," Stephen said apologetically 

Loki crossed his arms over his chest. "Then what did you mean?" 

"There are times when I'm talking to you and it feels like I'm talking to a different you. A you from another time." 

"Is that concerning?" Loki wondered aloud. The minimal shrug he gave a split-second later belied the deep frown on his face. "For you, maybe."

Stephen had learnt from experience that the quickest, most effective (if not the least painful) method to break down Loki’s walls was by appealing to his inherent sentimentality...and the way to do it was by being very honest.

Stephen mustered the courage to raise his head and look Loki right in the eye. “Yes, it is very concerning. I don’t want to lose you, Loki.”

The last of the cookie slipped from between Loki’s fingers and plopped into the milk. 

“...That’s utterly ridiculous,” Loki said unconvincingly after a while. He fumbled with a teaspoon to dig the biscuit out but the harder he tried, the more it dissolved in the milk.

He gave up and threw the spoon across the table, inadvertently splashing droplets of milk everywhere and splattering Stephen’s arm in the process. 

Without thinking, Loki reached out and irately wiped the back of Stephen’s hand with the sleeve of his tunic. “Why would you say such things?” 

Stephen’s unhappy countenance was damning in its silence. 

“Say something,” Loki forced through crumbling layers of pride and gritted teeth. 

Stephen’s gaze shifted, looking anywhere but the eyes peering anxiously at him.

“I wonder of the stories you would tell when I’m gone. I wonder if you would think of me at all.”

Loki heaved a longanimous sigh.

“Oh, Doctor." He gave the back of the now-clean hand an awkward pat. "It is only a biscuit.”

"Is it?" Stephen asked sadly. 

Loki studied the thin line of Stephen's lips, and how the blue irises had darkened to a slate gray under eyes more hooded than usual. 

“Is it really that bad?” Loki asked softly. "My sharing the sweetness of the past with you?”

"Call me selfish, but I'd rather we work on our own story. For the future."

That caught Loki by surprise. "Do you foresee one with me?" 

The clock on the wall mocked Loki with every ticking of the second hand.

With a sneer as bitter as his smile, he scoffed, "Of course. Your lips are sealed. I didn't know what I was expecting."

"Everything I have ever said to you is the truth," Stephen said. 

"A curated truth," Loki spat. "A lie would be much kinder."

"I love you," Stephen said sharply. "I didn't lie about that."

"I cannot think of the future when I am with you, Strange," Loki snapped. "Not with you knowing what you know."

"Then think of the present," Stephen pleaded. He reached for Loki's hand. "Be in the present.”

“We’re all relics in the end," Loki whispered.

"Until then, be with me," Stephen implored fiercely. "If you won't be mine, just be in the present. With me.”

"I am not lamenting a secret lover who fought and died in the war, Strange," Loki said. 

Then who was Darryl? Stephen sorely longed to ask, but Loki beat him to the punch.

"Darryl was Thor's roommate when he was moonlighting in Australia some years ago. I stole these from the box of goodies he must have sent my Brother for Anzac Day."

"Anzac Day?"

"Australian and New Zealand Army Corps. To commemorate their fallen in the Gallipoli Campaign in World War I and in all the allied campaigns thereafter, their countrymen bake biscuits."

"Surely that is not all they do."

"It is no different than the libation we used to drink to honor Odin's chosen heroes on the Feast of the Einherjar," Loki said, his eyes taking on a thousand-yard stare. "It is a tradition that has endured the test of time."

With that last revelation, Loki visibly shrank in his seat; he looked small and young and yet every one of his thousand-odd years.

"The recipe has remained unchanged for over a hundred years," Loki mumbled. "I brought some for I had wished to share them with you."

The sweetness of the past, Loki had said. 

And Stephen had ruined it all in a fit of petty jealousy.

He grabbed the last biscuit out of the plastic box and took a bite. For an oat biscuit, it was very crunchy.

"This isn't a biscuit," he mumbled through a mouthful of crumbs. "It's a cookie."

Loki watched Stephen chew with wary eyes still steeped in hurt. 

"It's protected under food naming regulations. Calling it a cookie could earn you a heavy fine."

"Seriously?" 

"Do you like it?"

"It's...sweet." Stephen drilled the tip of his tongue into one of his back molars. "It might have just given me a cavity."

Loki laughed a soft, tinkling chuckle that momentarily returned the light to his eyes. But to Stephen's great dismay, the mirth did not last for long. 

"You never did ask me properly."

"I could ask it again if I knew which question you're alluding to."

Loki tilted his head curiously. "How can I be yours if you never asked me?"

Stephen licked his lips. For some reason they had gone dry all of a sudden. "Guess I didn't want to come across as a possessive asshole."

"We're fighting over a biscuit you thought I was only eating because I was mourning a dead lover who did not even exist," Loki said flatly. 

"Touché." Stephen cleared his throat. "Umm. Are you mine?"

Loki only rolled his eyes. "That's very bold of you."

"Are you?" Stephen asked, painfully aware of how desperate he sounded to his own ears.

"You are putting the onus on me to answer your very one-sided question." Loki shook his head with a disappointed sigh and held out his hand. "Will you give me the rest of that? I don't think you deserve it after all."

"No." Stephen palmed the half-eaten cookie possessively into a fist. What was he doing wrong?

He stared at the outstretched hand in front of him and pondered Loki's request. 

Of course.

Stephen closed the palm of his other hand over the long, white fingers. "Loki Odinson…"

Loki stared at him in stunned silence. 

At that moment in time, Stephen knew there was absolutely nothing he would not do to dispel the sheer terror from Loki's suddenly red-rimmed eyes.

"Will you give me the honour of calling you mine for the rest of my life?"

The God of Mischief's face had gone almost as white as the curdling milk in front of him.

"Loki? Are you alri - "

Before Stephen could finish, Loki hurled himself across the table and a flurry of arms wrapped themselves tightly around him. 

"I will." Loki showered Stephen with kisses on his lips and all over his face, "I will, I will, I will!"

Stephen laughed giddily and he returned Loki's kisses with as much, if not more fervor, every single one of them. 

Once they realised they still needed to breathe, they parted reluctantly.

Stephen fingered the hollow of his now-fiancé's cheek. “But the famine soup...really isn’t that nutritious, you know.”

“It’s got bits of meat in it,” Loki argued.

“Which you dug out and hid in your napkin when you thought I wasn't looking,” Stephen chastised lightly. “Then the soup becomes nothing but sugar and flour.”

Loki happily wrapped his arms around Stephen's neck once more. "Will you help me eat it from now on? I can't digest cheap cuts very well and I'd hate to waste perfectly good food."

"For you, babe..." Stephen pulled Loki's face toward him for another kiss, "There's nothing I won't do."

It could be the syrup or it could be true love, but it tasted sweet as hell; now that Stephen could partake in it to his heart's content, he knew he was the most blessed man in the universe.

"I love you, Loki."

"And I, you, Doctor."

Oh, he was blessed alright.

[thespianbooks]

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 8//

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4) (Chapter 5) (Chapter 6) (Chapter 7) (Chapter 8) (Chapter 9) (Chapter 10)

(tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @courtofjurdan, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams, @paytin77, @mis-lil-red, @sleeping-and-books, @lucieisabooknerd) 

“From what my spies have gathered, he’s been holding secret meetings with the other camp-lords and generals for years; persuading them to rally against your rule and Cassian's command. Kallon has been using the number of losses, and other injuries their warriors obtained from the war along with the grief from the widows, as evidence that we are seeking vengeance for how we were treated as children, that we pose a threat and will only continue to destroy their race and culture. What’s worse is he’s gathered together those who resent us and see us as no more than bastards, further helping his cause,” Azriel explained to Rhys and I as we joined his and Cassian’s side at the desk, pouring over the reports the shadowsinger gathered from his network of spies. “He’s managed to convince them that as a high-born lord from a strong lineage of Illyrian warriors who have commanded the Ironcrest camp for centuries, he has the better claim to command their armies.”

Cassian scoffed as he scanned a report, “The prick has only been camp-lord of Ironcrest for a few years and has the balls to think he knows how to command the entire Illyrian army.” 

“He’s as much a brute as his father was,” Azriel muttered with disdain.

“And just as stupid,” Rhys retorted, glaring at another document as he read through it. 

I frowned and set down the report I was reading, crossing my arms. “How many?” I asked quietly, turning my attention to Azriel. 

He knew what I was asking, and the shadowsinger didn’t break my gaze as he answered, “He’s allied himself with half of the lords and their war-camps.” 

We all stared at him; dumbfounded, confused, enraged. 

“Half of the Illyrians are backing the rebellion Kallon has started?” I asked before the others had a chance to. 

Azriel nodded grimly and Cassian swore, his siphons flickering as he tried to contain his rage and ran his hands through his silk-black hair. Dark shadows swam at Rhysand’s back, wings flaring as he strode over to the wall containing the map of the Illyrian territory. He studied it closely as Azriel continued, “He means to incite a civil war with those who remain opposed, if they don’t side with him sooner rather than later, he will gather what forces he has to overrun their camps.” 

“Then the stupid bastard will try to turn those forces on us,” Cassian began.

“And once we’re overthrown, he will try to separate from the Night Court altogether,” Rhys growled, fists clenching as he continued to study the map before him.

“How do you know that?” I asked with a dull shock.

“There’s only one reason why a male like that would want to take control of the entire Illyrian force. He wants the territory for himself,” Rhys explained, voice dripping with disdain. 

My heart tightened for my mate as darkness continued to swirl around him, the shadows darkening the room—wings now tucked in tight at his sides. I realized those shadows were mournful, rather than from cold fury. These were his mother’s people; he grew up in their camps, trained and fought alongside them, bled with them and for them from the time he was a child. Despite their resentment of his high fae blood, their dense views and resistance to change, he respected them—the culture, because they were his people too. I glanced over at Cassian, his face unreadable as he let the weight of Rhys’s words settle in him. Azriel was the only one who remained, unsurprisingly, unfazed. I supposed with his own animosity towards his people, he saw something like this coming long ago—though I could tell deep down he secretly hoped it wouldn’t. 

I walked slowly towards Rhys and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, stepping into his line of view to force our eyes to meet. “That won’t happen,” I said decisively. “We won’t allow it, and we won’t stand for it.”

Cassian finally broke his silence, “How did the whelp manage to keep this a secret for ten years? We’ve barely let him out of our sight, and we’ve more than covered our bases during our monthly visits at Ironcrest.” 

“He’s had help,” Azriel replied.

“But how?” Cassian insisted, “I haven’t kept my eyes off the bastard since he made it through the Blood Rite, and neither have you and your spies. How did this escape our attention?” 

Rhys squeezed the hand on his shoulder, turning back to his brothers. “Winter Solstice,” he started, “It’s the one time of year all the camps gather, and while we’re here celebrating, our spies are reduced because of the holiday. Giving them the perfect opportunity to meet without the added worry of our eyes on them.”

“So they gather and plot on Solstice,” Cassian growled, “And probably during the period of the Blood Rite when we aren’t normally around, and neither are Az’s spies. Until this year.” 

I frowned. This year, after Azriel’s intel picked up on Kallon’s suspicious activities resurfacing, they stayed the entire week for the duration of the Blood Rites ceremonies and traditions; with the intention of gathering more information. They turned up empty at the time—save for the little details they already knew of. 

“They’ve let information slip since then,” Rhys said, and it was true.

“They’ve gotten cocky,” Cassian scoffed. “They’ve plotted and gathered their forces for ten years; somehow now they’ve gotten arrogant enough to speak more freely of their plans in the camps.”

“That’s not all,” Azriel added, “based on the reports, some of the talk also revolves around an outside ally working with Kallon.”

“Who the fuck would help that bastard?!” Cassian barked, wings broadening slightly. 

Rhys’s own wings widened a bit in an effort to shield me, but he cleared his throat and tucked them back in, giving Cass a hard look instead. The commander looked at me in apology, but I shook my head in dismissal. He was angry, all of us were. I slowly made my way over to the trio of ceiling high windows in Rhys’s study as I contemplated how Kallon had help keeping their meetings a secret during Solstice. What outside force would aid and abet him to the point where he believed they could successfully carry out a revolution? The Illyrian brothers began debating the same possibility as I stared out at the gardens the windows faced, seeing Elain and Mor sitting together by the fountain and chattering happily—the soft-spoken seer and the dreamer born into a court of nightmares. 

Suddenly, realization struck and I gasped, turning to face them. Rhys instantly returned to my side; Cassian and Azriel stepped closer to me, equally alarmed, but before any of them could speak I blurted, “It’s Keir.”

I continued quickly, “Who else would benefit from us being removed from power? Who else would want nothing more than to take over as ruler of the Hewn City, and install himself as High Lord should we be deposed?” Rhys’s eyes widened, cold rage filling the room as Cassian and Azriel realized the truth in my words. 

“He’s probably promised Kallon his army of Darkbringers, who also suffered a great loss after the war, who have the same motives and could sympathize with the Illyrians to a point. Keir’s most likely convinced Kallon that once they’ve overthrown us, he’ll allow the Illyrians to separate and form their own nation. Meanwhile he’ll take over Hewn City, and take over the rest of the Night Court, including,” I gulped, “Velaris.”

Cassian and Azriel both swore as Rhys growled, “With Keir’s backing, Kallon has the incentive to move forward with his plans for a civil war. Once the opposing Illyrians are taken care of, his and Keir’s forces combined can turn against us.”

Nausea roiled in my gut as the full burden of this understanding washed over us, of what this meant. Rhys slipped a protective arm around my waist, no doubt feeling my distress through the bond, “We have to move before they do. Azriel, you’ll go ahead of us to Hewn City. Question whoever you have to and get information without raising Keir’s suspicion. I want to know Keir’s exact role in this and every single step in their plans,” he commanded his shadowsinger.

Azriel nodded and in a split second he disappeared into the shadows, Truth-Teller gleaming in his hands before he was gone. Rhys turned to Cassian next, “You’ll come with Mor and I to the Court of Nightmares after Az’s gathered the information we need. I want our presence to send a message to the bastard.”

I blinked in surprise, and turned to face him, “You mean ‘Feyre, Mor, and I,’ right?” I asked.

His expression was hard as our eyes met, and I stared at him incredulously—daring him to keep me excluded. “Feyre, this is dangerous. If Keir finds out you’re pregnant he’ll-” he began, but I cut him off with a huff of disbelief.

“You mean when Keir finds out I’m pregnant,” I challenged. Cassian took a careful step back, allowing us to have this conversation without leaving the room. Keeping a watchful eye on us, Rhys especially. 

“I cannot put you and our child at risk, Feyre. If he’s really working with Kallon, it's not just us in danger, it's our unborn child too,” He continued calmly, but I could see he was struggling with his overprotective intuition.

I wasn’t going to have any of it, “You don’t think I know that? Our whole family is at risk, and I’m not going to sit idly by like some poor damsel in distress!” 

“I’m not asking you to do that. I’m asking you to stay here, where it's safe, where I’ll know you and our child are safe!” Rhys tried to reason, holding my arms carefully in his hands—the unadulterated panic gathering in those violet eyes once again.. 

I frowned at him, an old and familiar sense of panic beginning to bubble in my chest, but I fought it down. “Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I’m an invalid. We go to the Court of Nightmares together, and we use the news of my pregnancy to reinforce our rule. That will send him a message,” I explained. 

Rhys shook his head, gripping my arms lightly, desperate. “The minute he finds out you’re pregnant is the minute he and Kallon decide to move up their plans, giving them an advantage. We need to gather our own reinforcements before they have that chance.” 

“You’re a mated male Rhys, Keir will know Feyre’s pregnant regardless. He’ll smell it on you,” Cassian interjected on my behalf. 

I turned to look at him and Rhys let out a feral snarl, violet eyes darkening as he turned on his brother. “Stay out of this, Cassian,” Rhys warned, his entire demeanor shifting as his preternatural instincts ordered him to protect his pregnant mate. 

“Not a chance Rhysie. It’s about time you ease up on that mating bond, and if I have to be the one to do it again then I will,” Cassian replied coolly as he ran his hands through his hair, tying it back with a worn leather strap.

I realized what Cassian was doing. Our mating bond was sensitive now that I was pregnant, Rhys’s primal urges compelling him to protect his mate while in such a delicate condition. This new threat was igniting those vigilant impulses, and while he previously did his best to reign in some of that hostility, it would ease up considerably if he released some of that aggression on Cassian—just as he had all those years ago. Now, thanks to the prospect of a war breaking out in our own court, Rhys was consumed to the point of trying to shield me away completely. Cassian wouldn’t let that happen, he wouldn’t stand aside and watch me be sidelined; so he would take some of that edge off, but I couldn’t let that happen, not like this.

“Cassian, it’s alright-” I began but he quickly interjected.

“It’s not alright. You are my High Lady too, and you have every right to attend that meeting at the Hewn City, pregnant or not.” He insisted, turning to look at Rhys as he said it. 

Darkness continued to swirl around Rhys’s shoulders, “Of course she has a right to attend the meeting,” he snapped.

“Then let her come with us, you bastard.” 

“It’s not safe.” Rhys snarled, baring his teeth.

“You sure about that? She’d have me, and Azriel, protecting her. Two more males than just you-” Cassian baited, taking a step closer in my direction but Rhys immediately stepped in front of me and landed a blow to his face, sending Cassian stumbling back.

Cassian wiped the blood from the side of his mouth with a wicked grin. “That’s right, you bastard, take it out on me—not her,” he said as he straightened.

Just as Rhys was about to advance on him again, I grabbed his shoulder and cried out, “No! Not here,” I glared at Cassian, “Not now. I can handle this Cassian, just go.”

“Feyre, let me-” he started but I hardened my stare. I didn’t like to pull rank, but I needed to work this out with Rhys myself.

Cassian glanced at Rhys again, who calmed considerably the minute I touched him and was staring at my stomach with a pained expression, and reluctantly left the room. The second he was gone, I turned to face Rhys with a frown. His eyes met mine, those violet star-flecked eyes now pleading as he stepped closer to me and placed a hand on my stomach. 

“I can’t lose you, Feyre,” he began softly, “It would be better if you stayed behind this time with your sisters and Amren. If Keir sees how vulnerable your condition is-”

“I am not vulnerable!” I snapped, taking a step back from him, that panic beginning to rise once again—this time mounting before I could get a hold on it. 

“You are susceptible to more danger,” he amended. “He’ll see it as a weakness, our weakness, and he’ll use that to push whatever plans he and Kallon have.”

My chest tightened and my eyes burned, waiting for the inevitable order he would give to force me to stay behind—to lock me up. He promised to never do it, swore he wouldn’t command such a thing. He wasn’t that kind of male I reminded myself. He wasn’t Tamlin. 

He wasn’t. He wasn’t. He wasn’t.

Please don’t lock me up. 

Rhys’s eyes widened, “W-What..?” 

I realized I sent that plea down the bond as the tears in my eyes began to fall and I sobbed, “Please don’t lock me up,” I begged.

“Please Rhys, dont…” I sobbed again and Rhys gathered me in his arms instantly as my knees crumpled, my breaths coming in gasps as I cried. 

“Feyre, no. Gods, I would never,” he swore as he lowered us to our knees, holding me against him, burying his face in my hair as he consoled me. “I would never do that to you.” 

“You’re doing it now,” I whimpered as I looked at him. “You made a vow to me, making me your equal, and now…” I sniffed as I tried to control my tears, but the fear—the tightness in my chest was overwhelming. 

Rhys’s eyes widened in horror as he realized his actions and he looked down in disgrace, squeezing his eyes shut for a minute before leaning in to press his brow against mine. His hands cupped my face gently as he smoothed the tears away and our eyes met, his lined with silver as he began taking deep cleansing breaths—encouraging me to breathe with him. I did, struggling at first to follow the pattern of his breaths until the tightness in my chest finally eased and breathing became effortless. I slipped my eyes shut as I finally calmed and relaxed against him, the tears stopping. 

After a minute of holding me there, our brows touching and our breaths in sync, Rhys admitted quietly, “I wasn’t going to force you to stay behind.”

I opened my eyes and met with the gut-shattering guilt on his face, but before I could say anything he pressed a kiss to my temple. 

“I was never going to lock you in our estate Feyre. I would never, never, put up wards around our walls and keep you inside. For a moment I made you feel that way and I’m,” his throat bobbed for a second. “I’m so sorry.”

The things I love have a tendency to be taken from me. 

The raw confession he made to me during our time Under the Mountain echoed through my mind as the image of that dark, fallen prince now sat before me. His family had been in peril before, thanks to a friendship with another court. That friendship, that trust, cost him his parents and younger sister. His mother and sister were innocent, just as our child was now, and I couldn’t fathom the fear that rose in him now that we knew of the hazard in our own court—among our people. In my own alarm I compared his protective instincts, the ones created by our bond that enforced his desire to safeguard me and his child, to Tamlin’s actions. I compared him to the male that was responsible for the loss of his family. The loss he still blamed himself for. My gut wrenched with my own guilt, and I gently cupped his face in my hands; lifting the head he dropped in shame.

“Your need to protect me, to protect our son, is justified Rhys, but we can’t live in fear. I panicked,” I said softly. 

“You had every right to panic, Feyre. I shouldn’t have tried to convince you to stay behind. For a moment I just-” he paused and I nodded my understanding. 

“You panicked too,” I said softly. “Not just because of your male-bonded instincts.”

I took his hand and placed it on the tiny swell of my stomach and he caressed it gently, “You’ve lost so much, Rhys. I understand that, but I want you to understand that it won’t happen again. You won’t lose us.” I squeezed his hand encouragingly. 

His eyes met mine, “You’re safe,” he said. “You both are.”

“We’ll face this threat together, just as we have before.” I said, wrapping my arms around his shoulders loosely. 

He slipped one arm around my waist and the other under my legs as he stood, lifting me off the ground and carrying me over to the lounge by his desk. He sat me on it and knelt before me, holding my hands in his. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

“I forgive you,” I said, leaning forward to kiss him. “Promise me you’ll release some of that pent up aggression. It will help.”

His thumbs caressed the top of my hands, and he nodded in agreement. “Cassian will be more than happy to oblige,” he said with a wry smirk.

“Anything for his High Lord,” I mused. 

“Anything for his High Lady,” he corrected.

He brought my hands up to his lips, turning my palms upward and kissed the twin mountains tattooed in each. When he lifted his gaze back to me, his thumbs caressed my palms lightly. 

“Cauldron save you. Mother hold you. I, High Lord of the Night Court, will serve and protect you, Feyre Archeron.” Rhys began, reciting the same vows he made to me on our wedding night. 

The night we married in secret before the confrontation at Hybern. My eyes burned as he squeezed my hands before he continued, “I hereby swear you as High Lady of the Night Court, not consort, and not just my wife,”

One of his hands reached up to wipe away a stray tear after he finished, and he kept his hand on my cheek. “You are my equal Feyre, and I say these vows again as a promise that this will never happen again. I will never make you feel cast aside again, or our son. You are my High Lady, the mother of my child, and the most resilient female I have ever met. We’ll go to the Court of Nightmares together, and remind them all of that.”

I smiled, placing a hand over his before I noticed the whorls of ink on his left forearm begin to shift. We both watched as the patterns swirled at the base of his wrist, forming a band with a crescent moon at its center. The blue-black ink matching perfectly with the rest of his tattoo—the mirror of mine, the one created out of our promise to move onto the next life together. 

I ran my thumb across the new tattoo as my smile widened.  “Anything for his High Lady,” I said and Rhys returned my grin with his.

[historic-old-guard-lover]

The emperor has to be god-king Andy. Also like since nicky and Joe obv have to have the lovers why not have andy and quyhn kissing as the empress.

Another related ask (potentially by the same person):

Also since the fool is a journey's beginning I'd almost want to pick Nile for it. As well there are four characters who commonly have swords (or an axe but close enough) and cards have four corners. So one sword each corner, nicky, joe, andy, and quyhn.

So. Someone has good ideas. Here’s the post that prompted these asks. This made me pull out my tarot deck and go through the cards. Below the cut is a break down of the entire tarot deck. There will be an explanation of the (standard) interpretation of the cards, good then less good, and then my associated headcannon (or more than one if I couldn’t decide). The source is my experience with tarot. I’m trying to minimize repeats, but historic and modern Old Guard members are counted separately. Enjoy.

The Major Arcana (aka the cards most people have heard about)

0. The Fool - the seeker. Naivety. Courage. Living in the moment. Journey’s beginning. All paths available. Folly. Apathy.

Nile. Anon convinced me. Though Booker has got the folly, apathy, and madness down, Nile is ultimately the beginning. She’s naïve but headstrong, and quite frankly a perfect match.

I. The Magician - the trickster. Power, skill, talent. Mastery, self-control, willpower. Subtlety. Divine connection and inspiration. Self-reliant.

Modern Nicky. Definitely Nicky. Just. He’s a formerly very religious man who just says these things. Also sniper.

II. The High Priestess - the moon goddess. Intuition, wisdom, foresight, divination, prophecy. Enlightenment, understanding, intelligence, education. Pride, emotional instability, unforgiving.

Historic Quynh. Her name means “night-blooming flower”, which is very moon goddess vibes to me. Also, I’d say over 500 years in a box turns understanding and enlightenment into emotional instability and unforgiveness.

III. The Empress - the queen. Feminine power, matriarch, mother. Fertility, pleasure, beauty. Success, evolution, movement. Marriage, wealth. Overattachment, domestic upheaval, delay.

Quynh. The counterpart to Andy’s emperor card.

Nile. Let’s be honest, she’s going to take over from Andy some day.

IV. The Emperor - the king. Masculine power, patriarch, father. Authority, leadership, proficiency. Wealth, stability, effectiveness. Perseverance, logic, endurance, experience. Lack of ability, weak character, immature, rebellious.

Modern Andy. She is the leader who’s short-comings effect her entire team. And who doesn’t love a little gender bending? (and her film look is already soft butch)

V. The Hierophant - the religious leader. Tradition, convention, ritual symbolism. Ceremony, religion, morality, philosophy. Mercy, goodness, forgiveness, humility, vulnerability, Impotence, Religious tyranny.

Historic Nicky. I mean, former priest (enough said).

Historic Andy. “I was once worshipped as a god” (enough said).

VI. The Lovers - the lovers. Love, attraction. Compatibility, harmony, choice.  Triumph over trials, vacillation. Entanglement, enmeshment. Infidelity, moral lapse, vice, separation, quarrels, inadequacy, failing tests.

Andromaquynh. *peeks out from behind barricade* I know that most people would just put Kaysanova as this card, but look at all the negatives it is associated with. Sounds a lot more like our immortal wives can really cover the gamut. They have the range....I am a sucker for Kaysanova, though. Even though the beginning of their relationship is rocky, I’d like to think it’s been fairly constant over the years. But let’s reverse the uhaul lesbians and fickle gay men tropes! Sorry, Book of Nile fans. That ship just isn’t established enough for this, I’d say. Maybe one day?

VII. The Chariot - the journey. Ordeal, obstacles, competition. High stakes, ambition, discipline. Conquest, victory, greatness. Right action prevails, overwhelming odds, sudden defeat.

Merrick and/or Dr. Kozak. I mean, this is literally their characters in a nutshell. Merrick is the journey/ordeal for the old guard. He is driven by his ambition, thinks he’s won over impossible odds, and then has a sudden defeat.

VIII. Justice - the balance. Equilibrium, equality, symmetry, harmony. Integrity, honor, fairness, neutrality, moderation. Vindication, self-righteousness, bigotry, prejudice, favoritism.

Nile. This is the woman with a sword card. She brings a balance to the team, she clearly moderates conflict, and I’d love to see BLM art of her in this style. Just sayin.

IX. The Hermit - the seeker-sage. Wisdom, inspiration, contemplation, discretion, understanding. Safety, protection, spiritual quest. Seeking truth and justice. Self-denial, timidity, fear.

Historic Joe. The idealized warrior poet? Definitely just a form of the hermit. Helps explain why a Magrebhi trader/artist fought at the Siege of Jerusalem: spiritual quest. I also like the idea of Joe having a secret reserved side.

X. The Wheel of Fortune - cycles of life. Destiney, evolution and progress, advancement. Manifestation, unexpected events. Success, sudden luck. Ups and downs.

Modern Quynh. There is nothing that better encapsulates her storyline than the wheel of fortune. One day you’re roaming the world with your immortal wife. The next, you’re drowning for over 500 years. The next you’re in Booker’s shitty Paris apartment.

XI. Strength - fortitude. Resilience, courage, resolve, confidence. Integrity, moral victory, endurance. Energy, action, vitality. Power, force, violence. Abuse of power, disgrace, impotence.

Lykon. Do I love this character beyong measure and reason? Maybe so. We have so little to go on about him, however, that the only things we do know bely his strengths. Also, he becomes ultimately the weakest when he dies and encapsulates both “extremes” of the card.

XII. The Hanged Man - the tested. Delay, sacrifice, abandonment, rejection. Betrayal. Reversals, restrained or bound, limbo, trials. Falseness.

Booker. If the fact that his first death was by hanging didn’t convince you? Read that description again. His character arc is literally working through being the hanged man.

XIII. Death - the loss or parting. Alteration, transformation, transition. Boredom, depression, stagnation, failure or disaster. Bereavement, recovery, immobility.

Lykon. He literally represents the fear of death to the remaining immortals. It is HE that they invoke when they discuss it. Also, I’m still mourning my favorite underdeveloped character.

XIV. Temperance - the moderation. Self-control, economy, patience, coordination. Consolidation, harmony, friendship, recuperation. Unfulfilled desires, discord, stubbornness, hostility, clashing of interests. Time, seasons, and climate.

A Safehouse. I don’t think any of the people really capture the tempered essence of this card, the constancy throughout all seasons of life. An actual physical building that rises and falls with (regular) humanity, though, seems to do the trick.

XV. The Devil - the arcane. Magic, strange occurrences, prophecy, fate. Catastrophe, downfall, negative attitude, Temptations, sins, obsessions. Enslavement, bondage, misplaced loyalty, violence, fatality.

Honestly? I’m so torn. I feel like a major commentary of the movie is that our demons are the way people react more so than the people themselves. Maybe the armored van?

XVI. The Tower - the House of God. Disruption, expulsion from an earthly paradise, divine wrath. Punishment (of pride), loss, destructive rivalry, plans ruined. Need to start again, bankruptcy.

The Iron Coffin. While this doesn’t capture the religious undertones quite right, the coffin is the Tower for Andromaquynh, It is (divine? or very human?) wrath brought on by pride since the two probably thought that they would be fine. It is loss and painful new beginnings.

XVII. The Star - the bright promise. Hope, faith, light of the spirit. Recovery, symbols of immortality. Gifts, good prospects, new dawn, frustrated expectations.

Nile. The new immortal, enough said.

Historic Andy/Lykon. In a way, the first immortal would also be a great choice of representation.

XVIII, The Moon - the hidden forces. Twilight, illusion, deception, trickery. Dishonesty, danger, uncertainty, terror. Developments, particularly somewhat concealed. Errors, powerful feelings.

Copley. I know, I know. “He’s the moon when I’m lost in darkness” and all that jazz. But look at this card’s interpretation and notice it’s pretty negative. Copley’s entire role is to pull the strings behind the scenes. He makes headway on problems in secrets, he lies and deceives everyone in the film at some point.

XIX. The Sun - the work’s rewards. Daylight, co-creation, union “of male and female”. Peace, joy, pleasure, love, contentment. Accomplishment, achievement, success. 

Joe. Not only is he the sun, he also fits this card perfectly. He is creation and happiness. Enough said.

XX Judgement - the rebirth. Judgement, sentence. Rejuvenation, renewal, resurrection, call to the new from the old, rehabilitation. Creation, promotion.

Historic Booker. I feel like his backstory with his family helped highlight the theme of rebirth for the Old Guard. They must be willing to give up what they have left behind to move forward. Also, there’s the more literal play as well since Booker was a conscripted criminal.

XXI The World - the long journey. Perfection, completion, conclusion. Power through intelligence and wisdom. The universe and the material world.

A group photo, of course! Beyond that? Who knows.

Historic Andy? She’s seen so much of it. Like just her eyes portray the history of the world.

The Minor Arcana (aka the rest of the cards)

Since most people are only familiar with the major arcana,  I’ll just briefly explain it. The minor arcana are actually the majority of a tarot deck. There are four suits associated with the four elements. Each suit has ten number cards and four court/face cards (traditionally modelled either based on one person or different interpretations of similar costuming). Each number or face has its own meaning, each suit has its own meaning, and their combination mostly explains what the card should be interpreted as. Quite frankly, the minor arcana are vastly underrated in popular understandings of tarot.

Suit of Wands - fire. Spontaneity, action, passion, adrenaline, life force, stroke of genius.

Guns? It’d be a bit of a niche take, but I associate guns with fires.

Staffs? More traditional in shape.

Suit of Coins - earth. Solid growth, material interests, possessions, profit, business, labor, slow and considerate.

Historic currency. Enough said.

Suit of Cups - water. Heartfelt involvements, imagination, spirituality, love, friendship, family.

Fountains around the world. Enough said.

Suit of Swords - air. Worry, trouble, boundaries, objectivity, the power of truth.

Obviously, their weapons of choice. I would go into more detail about who best represents each number, but I don’t want to bore you.

Court of Kings - mature men. Leaders, authority, status-quo, taking responsibility.

Again, most tarot is very gendered. But members in tuxes?

Court of Queens - mature women. Reflective and active, concerned with security/foundations, supportive, focused.

Members in dresses/gowns/anything that glitters?

Court of Knights/Cavaliers - young men. Dynamic, adventurous, intensive, revolutionary.

Tactical gear. Or historical armor. But it’s easier to do tactical gear right than accidentally draw a 15th century helmet on a 14th century suit of armor.

Court of Knaves/Pages - younger women, teenagers, and children. Students, apprentices, trainees, messengers, new opportunities.

Casual clothes.

[yougetkilled-walkitoff]

Soulmark

Thor x Reader

Warnings: I don’t think there are any.

A/N: This is my first Thor x Reader story, so apologies if it’s not up to snuff.  I hope you enjoy it though!!

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Thor thought he would never have a soulmate.  Everyone is born with a stripe on their left wrist, it looks almost like a bracelet, this stripe’s color correlates to the color of their soulmate’s hair.  But Thor never had his soulmark, he only had blank skin on his left wrist.  He would notice the pitying glances of those around him and do his best to ignore them, head held high.  After a while he did his best to ignore his left wrist.  He tried to ignore the anger and resentment he felt when he accidentally glanced down at his wrist.  He put on a brave show but that didn’t help the immense sadness he felt when he laid down to sleep, every night he would come up with more and more reasons as to why the universe decided that he was unworthy of a soulmate.  Maybe he was too angry?  Well, this soulmate situation definitely was not helping his anger issues.  Maybe he was too dangerous?  But even Loki had a soulmark.  Maybe he was just unworthy?  But if he was unworthy then why could he pick up Mjolnir?  There were too many questions and not enough answers.

He was wandering around the palace feeling depressed and upset, why couldn’t he have a soulmate?  What had he done wrong?  When he felt a slight tingling sensation around his left wrist, it was strange but not unpleasant.  When he glanced down to see what was happening he just stared in shock, mouth hanging open.  He had a brown stripe completely wrapping around his wrist.  Somehow, somewhere he had a soulmate!

Thor immediately ran to his mother, if anyone could make sense of this mystery surely she could.  He ran into his mother’s chambers, not even bothering to knock.

“Goodness Thor, what has gotten into you?”  Frigga asked, her hand flying to her heart.

“Mother look!”  Thor shouted, holding his left wrist out to her.  “I-I have a soulmark now!”

“Thank the stars.  I knew this day would come.”  Frigga looked relieved.

“But what can it mean?  Why would it show up only now?”  Thor asked, his excitement giving way to confusion.

“Here on Asgard the people are born already bearing the soulmark, but in a few of the other realms the soulmark appears only when the person’s soulmate is born.  Your soulmark must be following one of their traditions.”  Frigga explained.

Thor nodded.  “But how will I find them across the nine realms?”  Thor asked, despair evident in his voice.

“You will find them when the time is right.”  Frigga replied, trying to soothe her son.

Thor simply nodded, too overcome with all of his emotions to speak.

So Thor waited.  He waited for the time to be right, as his mother had said.  Ten years to the day after he had first received his soulmark he glanced down and then looked again in surprise, his brown soulmark had turned pink.  He could not understand what this meant, so he did the logical thing and ran to his mother again.  She explained that on some planets like Midgard the people would dye their hair different colors.

“But why?”  Thor asked, incredibly confused.  “Why would they damage their perfect hair?  Is it a sign of mourning?”

Frigga laughed gently, “No my son, it is not a sign of mourning.  It is generally a sign of happiness.  People in other realms will dye their hair to help express their emotions, or to express their individuality, or simply for pleasure.”

Thor nodded, he couldn’t help thinking that such traditions were strange.

It seemed to Thor that every few months his soulmark would change colors.  It was pink, and then blue, green, purple, red, silver, black, etc.  But the most fascinating to Thor was when his soulmark was different colors at once, sometimes it was varying shades of blue and purple, other times it was red, orange, and yellow, all at the same time.  His favorite was the pastel rainbow that seemed to be his soulmate’s favorite as well, it was fairly regular, sometimes switching to something else, but eventually it would become that lovely pastel rainbow again.  Sometimes he could watch the colors changing, other times he would simply wake up to a new color.  But he loved watching it change, he loved how creative his soulmate was and he was eager for the chance to meet them.

Thor was constantly annoying Heimdall, asking if he saw anyone who’s hair matched the current color of the band on his wrist.  Heimdall would always refuse to answer his prince’s questions about his soulmate, reminding Thor that it was forbidden for him to tell others of their soulmates.

But then something happened to distract Thor’s thoughts from the search for his soulmate, Loki attacked Midgard, and Thor was forced to travel there in order to retrieve his brother and stop him from hurting Midgard.  After he arrived he was reminded that Midgard is one of the planets where the people dye their hair when he saw several people walking down the street with strangely colored hair.  He was accustomed to seeing his soulmark change color, but it was entirely different when he saw their hair, it was so completely different from what he was familiar with.

After the attack on New York Thor stayed with the newly formed Avengers for a while.  One day he was strolling through the tower when he passed by Pepper Potts’ office.  He glanced through the glass walls and felt his heart stop short.  Sitting with her back to him, facing Pepper, was a girl with pastel rainbow hair, he couldn’t help his goofy smile, or the way that his heart seemed to be thudding a lot harder in his chest.  Then he noticed that Pepper was looking at him strangely and realized that he had been staring.  He quickly rounded the corner, but he couldn’t bear to leave, not if there was a chance that this girl was his soulmate.

After a few minutes Pepper and the girl walked out of the office.  “I’d love to hire you, Y/N, but I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to dye your hair to a natural color.”  Pepper was saying.

“That won’t be a problem, Ms. Potts, I don’t mind at all.”  She replied.

“Well then, welcome aboard Y/N.  I’ll schedule your orientation for tomorrow if you think you can dye your hair by then?”  Pepper replied.

“Certainly, I will do that straight away.”  She replied, shaking Pepper’s proffered hand and smiling widely.

The girl turned and walked away in the opposite direction from where Thor was standing.  Thor couldn’t stand to just let her walk away, so he quickly stepped out from where he had been “hiding” and followed the girl to the elevators.  She was waiting for the elevator when he caught up to her.  He then realized that he didn’t have a plan for what to say.  Fortunately for him she spoke first.

Turning to him she said, “Hello, you’re Thor, right?”

“Um, yes.”  Was all he could think to say.

“I’m Y/N.”  The girl replied.  The elevator arrived, and they entered it.

“It is very nice to meet you, Lady Y/N.”  Thor said, recovering himself.

“I was passing by Lady Potts’ office and it seemed as though she was conducting an interview.”  He said after a pause.

You nodded, “Yes, I was just hired.  I’m going to be your assistant.  Well, yours and the rest of the Avengers.”  You smiled.  Then you noticed Thor staring at your hair.  “I’m going to dye my hair, don’t worry about that, I’ll look like any other assistant.”

“No.”  Thor said quickly, and then carried on when you seemed a little taken aback.  “I love your hair, it is beautiful.”

“Oh, well thank you.”  You replied, a little uncertain of where this conversation was going.

“In fact,”  Thor continued hesitantly, “it reminds me of my soulmate, although I have yet to meet her.”

“Oh, well I’m sure you will meet her soon enough.”  You replied, placing a reassuring hand on his right arm.  He looked down at your hand, and you quickly removed your hand from his arm, smiling awkwardly.

The elevator finally reached the ground floor and you both exited it.  You turned to leave but Thor caught your arm with his left hand.  “Will I see you tomorrow?”  He asked.

You glanced down at his hand, and then did a double take, his soulmark matched your hair.  “Uh, yeah, yeah I’ll be here tomorrow.”  You said distractedly.

Thor nodded and released you.  “Then I look forward to tomorrow.”

You nodded and smiled at him, then left the building.

Thor smiled at your retreating figure, and then he shook himself and went in search of Pepper, he wanted to learn as much about you as he could.

Unfortunately for Thor, Pepper would not tell him anything about you.  So Thor spent a restless evening watching his soulmark and waiting for it to change color, he was curious to see if you really were his soulmate.  Eventually he fell into a peaceful sleep.  In the morning he had forgotten about the possibility of meeting his soulmate.  He spent his morning as usual, drinking coffee and eating a packet of pop-tarts, with playful banter back and forth among the team.

Later in the morning Pepper entered the living area of the tower where the team was lounging around.  She ushered you into the room and raised her voice to gain everyone’s attention.

“Good morning everyone, this is Y/N, she is going to be your assistant, please be nice to her.”

One by one she introduced you to the team, and when she reached Thor he finally got a look at the color of your hair, it was a lovely shade of auburn, he automatically glanced at his wrist and his soulmark was the same shade of auburn.  Thor was speechless, he had found his soulmate, he had actually found his soulmate.

You didn’t seem to notice, so Thor decided not to say anything in front of the team.  Tony led you on a tour of the Avengers’ floors of the tower, explaining where everything was and what all of the different rooms were for, all while laying on the charm.  Thor, who definitely was not following the pair, was growing more and more irritated by Tony’s advances towards you.  The only thing that saved Tony from bodily injury at the hands of Thor was the fact that you just laughed and did not seem to take Tony seriously.  After the tour Tony led you to your office and you were able to begin getting yourself situated.

Thor did his best to leave you be, but at lunch he found himself outside of your office again.  After wavering for a minute he knocked on your door.  “Lady Y/N?  I was wondering if you were hungry and if you would like to accompany me to the kitchen?”

“That sounds good, Thor, thank you.”  You smiled.  “Oh, and it’s just Y/N.”

“Very well, Y/N.”  Thor smiled and offered his left arm to escort you.  You glanced down at his wrist as you took his arm and gasped a little, but said nothing further.  Thor decided not to push you with his discovery, but he made up his mind to talk to you on the way back to your office after lunch, where there would be a little more privacy.

The both of you walked to the kitchen in companionable silence and you released his arm just outside of the kitchen, so that you could keep your air of professionalism.

During lunch you were content to simply watch the team and laugh softly at their antics.  After 45 minutes you decided that you had spent enough time on your lunch break and excused yourself to walk back to your office.  You were halfway back to your office when you heard a voice calling after you.  “Lady Y/N!”

You smiled and waited where you were, turning to see Thor striding towards you.

“Thor, how are you?”  You asked him, still smiling.

“I am well Lady Y/N.”  Thor said jovially.  “Actually, there is a matter I should like to discuss with you, if you have the time?”

“Of course Thor, and please, it’s just Y/N.  Would you like to speak in my office?”  You asked.

“I would!”  Thor replied.  After the two of you had entered your office and you had closed the door, he continued.  “Y/N, you may have noticed that my soulmark appears to match your hair color, and has done so twice.  I believe that you are my soulmate.”

You nodded and looked down.  “I noticed.  I’m just a little scared.”

“You are frightened?”  Thor asked, confused.  “Why are you frightened?”

“Well, I mean, you’re a god!  Why would you be interested in me?”  You replied quietly.  “Plus, what does this mean for my job?  I really need this job.”

“I hope that my being a god does not disappoint you, my Lady.  The universe has placed us together for a reason.  If you should like we could go on several “dates” as Midgardians call them and become better acquainted.  As for your job, I could speak to Lady Potts if you should like, us being soulmates should not affect your job.  Although I would prefer to serve you as opposed to you serving me.”  Thor declared.

“You being a god is not disappointing Thor, I am afraid that I am a disappointment for you.  I would love to go on dates with you.  And thank you, but I should probably explain this to Pepper myself, though it would be nice to have you with me.”  You said, still looking down.

Thor gently grasped your chin in his hand so that you would look at him.  “Y/N, I have been waiting for you for 1500 years, and I do not believe you could ever disappoint me.  I promise you that I will always do my best to treat you well and with the respect and love that you deserve.  I will also gladly accompany to speak with Lady Potts.”  Thor declared with the utmost sincerity.

You smiled up at him.  “I may have not been waiting for 1500 years, but I have been waiting for you my whole life.  I will always do my best to take care of you and care for you for the rest of my life.”  You told him with shining eyes.

Thor was so happy that he picked you up and spun you around once, before placing you back on the ground and pulling you into a warm embrace.  You laughed, and Thor thought he had never heard such a beautiful sound.

[herpronuonsarefemslash]

Bioweapons and Beef Stew - TEASER

https://www.patreon.com/posts/52994705 Kara's pod goes into the wrong wormhole and she ends up in the Mass Effect universe. (I made it ABO so that everyone's learning new things about their bodies, which I always find fun to write. The setting is middle of the plot of Mass Effect 1 and except for Kara Zor-El, will be largely vanilla.) KUDOS NOTE: Much of the asari culture and most of the words are borrowed with my gratitude from  PMC65 of "Thessian Whisper" fame, LogicalPremise's supporting documents for his grimdark "Of Sheep and Battle Chicken" saga, and Joking611, author of "Cari'ssi'mi" stories. ----- Shepard closes the channel, leans back in her chair and pinches the bridge of her nose as hard as she dares. It feels like her sinuses are full of riot foam. Has since they took off from Noveria. "Fuck." She staggers into her cabin's bathroom and splashes cold water on her face, prodding at the rapidly purpling bruise on her right cheek from one of Benezia's wilder attacks. Spinning the clothing rack inside the tiny closet shows she has dress uniforms, her BDUs and a novelty T-Shirt she got on Elysium the night before the Blitz. Somehow it survived all the excitement and arrived by shipping pod a few weeks later, along with a promise to provide her anything in their entire line. If only she wore femme clothes with any regularity. She has a prisoner to visit and traitor or not, Benezia T'Soni requires the utmost respect. In the darkest hour of the asari, when raping, murdering queens from inland laid waste to the grand coastal cities, it was two newly minted paladins who made the midnight raid that struck down the twisted matriarch so fearsome that some claimed she was Athame's punishment. It takes no exaggeration to say that the golden age that rose in the aftermath is the daughter of Kanyru T'Sere and Cellnis T'Soni. Two tiny houses with nothing but a warrior tradition and pair of matriarchs and thousands of years later, both families are so wealthy and influential that their private navies could conquer the Terminus with ease and with a bit of luck, roll the Systems Alliance up like a carpet and lay siege to Earth. Dress uniform it is. Putting it on requires only memory. Button. Straighten. Tug. Adjust medal. Smooth sleeves. Check boots. Polish. Check again. Polish again. ... She was a quicker draw than Ashley, but not by much. Three hollow-bottle electrical rounds from her pistol knocked the matriarch out. They brought Benezia back to the Normandy in cuffs and doped to the gills. Her body blazed through the drugs almost as fast as they could pump more in her biotics working on behalf of her immune system to try to burn out the threat. Evolution doesn't allow weaklings to live to a thousand and four years old. Now, looking at a good marine--one she trained herself--standing dazed and sweaty during an easy duty shift, Shepard wonders if she brought the enemy aboard. Is indoctrination contagious? Seems unlikely that their scanners would detect it in standard decon, no matter how many nano-virus patterns they can check for. "DRAVEN! Are you operational, marine?" Draven nods again, even slower this time. "Yes...wait. No. I think I'm sick, ma'am. Fever, maybe." "I think you might be, yeah. So straight to your sleeping pod and seal yourself in. I'll send the doc." She keeps her hand squeezed tight on Draven's shoulder as she steers her towards the enlisted bunks. The door swishes open and she sees the last thing she would have expected to see: Ashley Williams wearing what looks like a very realistic cybernetic strap-on, pinning Tali's long hands against the bulkhead and rolling her hips, dragging the shaft over the suit between the young engineer's ample thighs. Tali seems to be a willing participant, judging by the way she's clenching her legs together and the lunges she makes when Ash pulls back. "Gunny!" Shepard barks. "Explain yourself." Ashley turns. Her golden skin is dripping with sweat, her curly hair is down to her shoulders, tangled and wild, and her teeth are bared. She leans

forward to cover more of Tali's body with her own and actually growls, like a dog protecting its food bowl. ... After a round of precautionary commands and instructions to Chakwas, who reported that she had already suited up in decon gear and gotten to work, Shepard swallows the last scraps of her pride and approaches the medbay door. She presses her palm to the intercom. "Can I come in, Liara?" Rather than a reply, the door simply opens. Liara's hand is slack at her side, as if lifting her finger to her omni to open the door took everything. Trails of salt granules streak her freckled face. The officer's academy didn't go deeper than 'coastal-dwelling ancestors' but seeing Liara's face streaked by sea salt and lean, delicate body and her long hands folded into a ball makes Shepard think of a mermaid in mourning more than anything. They say asari means 'of the ocean' in the salarian language that lent them their post-spaceflight name. "How is she?" Liara shrugs, looking younger and older at the same instant. "The body will live. The mind..." Something propels her forward, commands her to put her hands on Liara's shoulders. "C'mere." ... It is only a few minutes each time she wakes, so they make careful use of them. The drugs wear off every few hours and Benezia wakes for five or ten minutes as herself, then goes back to ranting. It's a slow process and knowing that Saren is anything but slow in his mad pursuit of this Conduit, it makes Shepard sick to be on a quarantined ship, even if it is with the mother of the girl she's fallen for. With the Normandy idling at a gas giant while they sort out the disease affecting the crew--they caught Draven mounting Gunnery Chief Roberts in the middle of her shift--there's plenty of time for Shepard to catch up on her paperwork from Chakwas' desk. Liara explains about Shepard's vision and gushes about melding and trying to understand it, and Benezia smirks and looks past her daughter to Shepard as if to say 'get on with it'. Shepard promises to keep Liara safe. ... Chakwas' omnitool pings and she glances down at it, says something Liara's omnitool marks as impolite, and then gradually lowers her head onto her desk, raising it and dropping it the last inch three times. "Doctor, are you..." Ill? Delirious? Suicidal? Liara wonders. Then she remembers that Tali has taken to kicking pieces of damaged technology that don't cooperate, a habit she claims she learned from Engineer Daniels. It's not a quarian gesture she's ever seen and Tali sheepishly admitted that the first two times she did it, she stubbed her toe. It's as if human emotions can gather so densely in their bodies that unless they damage themselves physically, they will go mad. "I just received word from the commander that the bioweapon has finished whatever it is doing to her." Liara's tongue feels thick. Clumsy. Too much. Like it might choke her. "Oh?" Chakwas nods. "Apparently her body has taken on masculine characteristics, at least judging by her request for altered duty clothes. I think the asari word for it is akero?" "No, but I can see why you might think that." Chakwas shrugs. "Joker wanted to name the whole mess after some popular concept in human pornography called alpha/beta/omega. All based on a fetish which is itself based on highly suspect research about Earth wolves. I suppose humans associate the dominant and forceful sexual role with the male." Liara hums. "It is a human ship, doctor. Perhaps human terms are appropriate when venturing into the unknown. Is there any way I can help the Commander?"