#major arcana fic

[xaharadesert]

MC Remembering Their Death - Fic

Asra Alnazar x MC

A/N: for the lovely @lunriphus, an incredible amount of angst! This was super fun to write, I love angst fics :) never written one before, though, so this was a new experience for me! Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes :) requests are open! Also, apologies for the weird spacing, I’m on mobile and I have no idea how to fix it :)

SPOILERS!!

Tw: past major character death, cremation, burning alive, guilt, mental breakdown, vague description of a panic attack, canon-compliant amnesia

If you think this fic may trigger you, please don’t read! Look after yourself!

💙Asra💙

Asra’s heart felt like it was pounding out of his chest, and he didn’t know why.

Well, that’s not entirely true— he knew that he was currently taking a stroll through the market on his own, casually browsing some particularly shiny crystals, which meant that whatever was causing this tidal wave of terror that was trying to suffocate him wasn’t a result of his own actions. Therefore, whatever was going horribly wrong was happening on his lover’s end, and it didn’t seem to be stopping.

It wasn’t completely unusual to feel sudden spikes of fear that weren’t his own— occasionally his partner would trip, or drop something, and he would feel the momentary horror that flooded their body— but this was different. This was a genuine, endless ocean of devastation and pure terror that crashed through into him, filling his lungs until he could barely breathe.

He needed to get back to them.

No other thoughts entered his mind as he sprinted through the streets of Vesuvia, pushing aside those too slow to react and jumping over any stalls blocking the shortcuts that he had become so familiar with in his youth. He couldn’t fathom what could be happening to cause such terror in his partner’s heart, but his subconscious provided glimpses of the worst possible outcomes. He tried not to let his own panic override his mind, instead focusing on how close he was to the shop, how he could get there quicker, how he could stop whatever was happening.

When he reached it, he flung open the door, following his connection to his lover that felt like a string pulled taut to the bedroom they shared. He nearly tripped on the stairs twice, and his ankle stung from the missteps, but he didn’t care. That didn’t matter.

Upon entering the bedroom, he noticed a few things: nothing was missing or out of place, nothing was broken, there was no blood or sign of anything that could have caused injury; everything about the room was fine, except for the fact that his significant other was sitting in the corner, knees drawn to their chest, head down, sobbing.

In just two strides Asra crossed the room, kneeling before his partner, hands hovering over them, trembling with worry, but not touching. He didn’t know what was wrong and he didn’t want to make things any worse. He spoke quietly, “My love? What’s happened? How can I help?”

Their only response was the sound of their sobs increasing in volume. To Asra, it felt like a dagger to the heart. He wanted desperately to help them, to protect them, but not even their shared heart could tell him what they needed.

Remaining silent for a few moments, allowing them to release their emotions, Asra instead opted to quickly scan over their body for any physical injuries. He hadn’t seen anything around that would indicate that they were hurt, but it was still best to check.

When he observed nothing apparent, he took some solace in knowing that whatever pain and fear his partner was facing wasn’t physical. But was that really better? External wounds could be seen and healed with a little magic and a little care, but internal ones were much trickier. He wouldn’t even know how to start unless his lover would talk to him about what caused the problem initially.

“I-“ they started to speak, but cut themself off as another sob overtook them.

“Can I touch you?” Asra asked quietly, wanting to comfort them, but not wanting to invade their space if they didn’t give consent. With a quick, short nod he was granted permission, and he enveloped them in his arms without a moment of hesitation. He was unbothered when they buried their face into his shoulder and clung to him tightly, simply adjusting to pull them into his lap to allow for a more comfortable position. He ran his fingers through their hair, quietly murmuring praises about how well they were doing, how he was proud of them, how much he loved them. His compliments were vague, due to the fact that he wasn’t sure what was upsetting them, but they seemed to do the trick, as they were slowly but surely calming down.

Their sobs gradually turned into ragged breaths with the occasional hiccup. Asra was patient, continuing to hold them tightly and whisper reassurances. He wouldn’t push for answers until they were ready and willing to speak of their own accord.

“I-“ they tried again, but paused, taking a few deep breaths before continuing, “I- I remembered-“, another pause, as they struggled to keep their breathing level, “I remember dying.” They broke back down into sobs, any progress toward calming down completely gone.

Asra froze, his arms tightening around them and his eyes widening as he tried to process what they had just said. Suddenly his lover wasn’t the only one having breathing problems; he felt like he couldn’t drag even an ounce of oxygen into his lungs no matter how hard he tried. He felt like he was drowning, or maybe falling— the world around him was disappearing and all he could focus on was the person in his arms and what they had just said: I remember dying.

For years he had dreamed of their memories returning— it was all he had wished for, but never dared to speak out loud since their return to life. He was blessed enough to have them by his side, and even thinking about wanting more seemed selfish; acting on those desires had been downright cruel. He had never forgotten the pain he had caused them when he had attempted to help them remember in the past. He had long since abandoned hope of things becoming the way they were before the plague; he had accepted that they were different, and even so, he would do anything to make them happy.

Now, some of their memories had returned— but they were the most painful of the lot, the ones he had been grateful they had forgotten. He couldn’t begin to imagine what death felt like, and he had no clue to what extent harming his lover even now.

Guilt washed over him in waves as he remembered what had caused the creation of those memories in the first place. If he hadn’t left…

No.

He couldn’t change the past.

He could only dictate how he acted and reacted in the present.

His lover spoke again, through their sobs: “I remember— I remember the flames. The pain. I wasn’t— I wasn’t gone! I wasn’t dead! And they still—“ they cut themself off. The memory was too much, and they couldn’t continue.

Asra felt as though he might pass out. All the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room, and his vision seemed to be darkening around the edges as he recognized the implications of what they said.

They hadn’t been dead.

They remembered fire.

They hadn’t died to the plague— they had been burned alive.

They had been alone, and scared, and they had died a horrible, painful death.

He hadn’t been there.

He hadn’t helped them.

He hadn’t saved them.

He could have.

But he didn’t.

This was his fault.

It was all his fault.

If he had just convinced them to leave—

If he had just taken them away—

If he hadn’t been a coward—

They could have lived. They could have thrived. They wouldn’t have had to go through any of the pain, before and after their death.

He had failed them.

[bohemian-rhapsody-in-blue]

Beboptober Day 20: The Fool

Thanks to @thestarlightsymphony for the prompt list, and to these three sites (1, 2, 3) for providing me information on the tarot card symbolism! Also, I know I’m now two days behind on Bebotober, but We’re Not Gonna Talk About That.

The Fool.

The Fool reversed.

She stands on the precipice of a new world, taking her first steps into it with confidence, unburdened by fear. The beginning of her journey into the unknown is marked by joy, enthusiasm, exuberance—with hardly a thought to the possible dangers that befall her.

He stands precariously on a cliff, about to stride straight off the edge. He walks with carelessness, without fear, but less out of a sense of misguided cockiness or overconfidence than of recklessness, a lack of self-preservation. As he steps into the blankness that is the rest of his life, he is not afraid. He has nothing left to lose.

She sees every day as a new adventure, filled with infinite possibility and potential. She’s young enough that anything could happen and nothing is off-limits; her path is not yet set in stone. For her, for now, the world is a blank canvas. And she can’t wait to see where her path will take her, what experiences await her, how that canvas will be filled.

He sees every day as another endless, meandering chapter in a dream, taking him wherever it may. All is ephemeral; nothing is real, including the dangers and risks. The important things in his life, the things that matter, have been over and done with for years. The lives he cared about, including his own—gone. And so, at this point, he accepts his life as a blank slate in which whatever happens, happens.

Her possessions are modest—a simple knapsack on her back. She’s spent her life wandering, not tethering herself to any one place or possession. What she carries with her is all she really needs.

His possessions are modest. They’re all he can afford to buy, and all he can afford to hold on to.

A dog stands loyally at her feet, there as her companion to protect her on her journey. He barks at her, encouraging her to seek out new avenues, new adventures, to explore the world—reassuring her that he’ll be at her side all the way through.

A dog barks at his heels in warning—perhaps to alert him of danger ahead, perhaps to get him to wake up from his dream and notice what surrounds him. But he continues on, heedless of its cries. He doesn’t listen to it. He never really has.

She holds a white rose, a symbol of purity, of innocence.

His memories echo with a red rose, a symbol of what happened to him long ago. A loss of innocence, a loss of love, after which nothing was ever the same.

The beginning of any journey is the end of an old one. Her first steps are tinged with bittersweetness—she’s starting a new adventure, but only because she’s made the choice to leave her old one behind. She’s leaving her family behind. Even the one who professed to hate kids (and pets, and women with attitudes).

A shame, really. They never got to realize how similar they truly were.

[inhuman-obey-me]

The Devildom Deck: 0 - The Fool

First of a new series of drabbles inspired by each of the 78 standard tarot cards - wish me luck getting through them all....!

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

Chapter warnings: None

The Fool depicts a youth walking joyfully into the world. He is taking his first steps, and he is exuberant, joyful, excited. He carries nothing with him except a small sack, caring nothing for the possible dangers that lie in his path. Indeed, he is soon to encounter the first of these possible dangers, for if he takes just a step more, he will topple over the cliff that he is reaching. But this doesn't seem to concern him - we are unsure whether he is just naive or simply unaware. The dog at his heels barks at him in warning, and if he does not become more aware of his surroundings soon, he may never see all the adventures that he dreams of encountering.

Oh, to be so naive again.

Solomon watched his fellow human exchange student bumble around, wildly making their way through pact after pact with the Seven Demon Lords of Hell.

He had lent them his power for one night - hell, not even a whole night, just six short hours - and in that time, they had managed to convince yet another brother to make a pact with them. And thus Solomon watched as Asmodeus, a demon with whom he himself shared the same bond, became the fourth.

This ridiculous human, whether fearless or stupid, who hardly even knew anything about demons, really didn't know when to stop, did they?

The sorcerer rubbed the ring on his finger, remembering back to oh so long ago when he'd first learned how to make pacts. How exhilarating it had felt to put demons under his command, how drunk he'd gotten on the power, how quickly he’d found his body covered in sigils.

He watched Lucifer eyeing the other human warily, though they hardly seemed to notice.

Solomon really hoped he wouldn't be the only human exchange student by the end of this year.

--

Chapter Index | Next Chapter

[acornered]

“a cosmic wrecking ball”

huge shoutout to Hacks for actually doing research on their tarot cards and not just using the Death card to mean Bad Thing. This drives me crazy about so many other shows (looking at you Killing Eve) and it frustrates me to no end. Not only did Hacks do right by explaining that Death is not an inherently bad card and can also indicate a rebirth, but they really went the extra mile when she pulled the Tower to indicate an impending disaster, correctly identifying it as a worse card than Death because it implies a sudden upheaval/destruction of one's foundation. 

[derogatory-duck]

Free to use Devil reaction memes

[unfried-mouth-wheat]

Chapter two of Reversed and Upright is out! Look in the source or the comments for the link!

[Image ID: A digital colored sketch of Portia Devorak and Julian Devorak from The Arcana. Portia is a short woman with curly red hair. Julian is a half human half bird creature. Julian stands just beside Portia. Both of them are looking forward, towards the left. They're up against a background that is a gradient between red and dark red. End ID]

[the-lady-writes-what]

Major Arcana: The Magician

Having left behind The Fool, you follow the trail to the Magician's cottage.

Izuku Midoriya (25) x Reader 

Content: mutual drug use (basically), cream pie, light scratching

No minors were featured in this production. All canonically minor characters are aged up. I do not write minor characters with adults.

Mandrake. Henbane. Belladonna. Fly agaric. Vervain. Poppy.

Your face screwed up. Most of the ingredients were very poisonous, deadly even. You would have to be collecting them. Unfortunately, you didn't think to bring gloves with you as you went flower picking. For what you didn't feel comfortable touching with your bare hand, you used your apron. One by one, you found the flowers and mushrooms as the ingredients listed. You reached the cottage door just as the sun was setting. Izuku was in his kitchen, standing by a black pot. In went blocks of beeswax. Izuku half-turned towards you. His hand reached fo the basket, but his fingers grazed you. A shiver ran down your spine. Izuku's pinky lingered on the back of your hand, causing your cheeks to blush ever so slightly. Your mind couldn't help but go back to the night before last. Izuku merely smiled back as if nothing was wrong.

You were made to sit at the fireside at his behest. You weren't allowed to be in the kitchen while Izuku made himself busy. Waves of emotion passed through you as you watched Izuku take each plant, chopped it up, and put in the pot of melting wax. You watched in bewilderment, eyes drawn wide open. Beeswax. Belladonna. Fly agaric. There was only one thing he could be making. You shuddered to think what he intended to do with it.

Izuku didn't make you wait for very long. With a wave of his hands, the furniture shifted out of place and formed a semi-circle on the floor. Around the fireplace, there was now more than enough room for five more to lay down. Another wave conjured up pillows and blankets to cover the semi-circle of furniture. You leaped out of the way while everything magically appeared and arranged as if by invisible hands.

The fire simmered to a low glow, but the room remained well-lit. Tongues of flames burst like flowers atop dozens of candles. Izuku poured the brew into a glass jar. He carried it wrapped with a towel to the center of the pile. Izuku dropped off his outer robe and let it settle on the nearest chair. His green eyes turned towards you and held out his hand. It would be a lie to say that your heart wasn't beating a mile per minute. You untied your apron, took off your boots and socks, and took off your vest. You didn't worry about where they all landed; you were too busy taking Izuku by the hand and letting him take you.

You both sat in the pile of blankets and pillows. The jar of greenish melted wax stood between you. You could see chunks of belladonna and vervain sticking out among the chopped fly agaric's bright red and white. Izuku dabbed his fingers into the volatile salve and smeared some on your throat. Your skin prickled as the wax melted against your skin. Your turn. You returned the gesture with equal slow sensuality. The arteries in Izuku's throat throbbed when your fingers grazed him. If you wagered, you guessed that he was almost as nervous and excited as you were. Izuku gently pulled your blouse's ties until the thin strings hung limply in front of your chest. He reached into the jar again to smear the salve across your chest.

You felt the ointment begin to work its magic when you could hear his heartbeat, Izuku's, pounding next to yours in your chest. A layer of sweat sheened across both of your temples. Your limbs tingled from toes to the top of your head. In the warm mist forming inside your mind, you briefly wondered if Izuku was feeling the same thing. Hands reached out for each other, fingers knitted together.

Clothes shifted as you found each other's buttons and ties. Layers were coated in sweat before they were stripped away. Your palms itched and tingled as you ran them up and down Izuku's well-formed chest. Piles of clothes became your pillow. You laid your head down with your (h/c) hair spread out like a halo. You stretched your body for Izuku's pleasure. Your head was spinning, but you welcomed the feeling. Everything felt more intense. You felt more of Izuku's hands running up and back down your body as you mentally hovered between this plane and the next. His lips kissed your warm, glistening skin in languid pecks. He, too, was cast under the same spell.

Much of the preamble was just touching one another. Slow, somewhat clumsy hands, both yours and his, reaching out and running over the skin. A hot pool rushed to your lower belly, and you couldn't help but rub your thighs together just to feel the barest movement of friction. That did little help the proverbial itch between your legs. Izuku plucked your nipple between his teeth and suckled. His tongue and lips moved slow, stoking the fire already bubbling in your lower belly. You reached up and threaded your fingers through his thick green hair. Gently, you pulled him away and brought him to your lips. Tongues battled and lapped at each other. Izuku was thoroughly distracted enough to not notice how your hand slithered betwixt your bodies. You grasped the rod poking your stomach. You read somewhere that men liked it when you stroked their cock. You gave him a gentle stroke, unsure if you were doing it right.

"Do that again." Izuku moaned. His eyes were screwed tight as if to focus on the pleasure you were giving him.

You repeated the movement, moving slowly to stroke him. Izuku's member became harder, and you felt him twitch in your head. The fire crackled while Izuku moaned next to your ear. Just when you were starting to pick up the pace, his hand stopped yours. You parted your lips to ask him if you did something wrong, but were cut short by Izuku's kiss. His hand still held unto yours, and he helped you guide him to the cauldron of your desires. You felt the wetness seep to your thighs and the blunt end of his cock prodding at your entrance. Moaning into the kiss, you nodded slightly, giving ascent to letting him slide inside your folds.

Your cunt was still hardly tried, and the fit felt a bit snug. Your walls wrapped around him like a vice, and you could feel the pressure gnaw at you. There was only pressure, no pain. Izuku released your lips in favor of kneeling between your legs. Inch by inch, he plunged deeper into your warmth until he was fully seated. His hand knotted into the blankets beside your head. The other grasped your hip to pull you tight to him. Your lower abdomen bulged slightly with him bottoming out.

"Oh…my," you sighed.

Full Story on AO3

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[erenthephantompainter]

Mi ultimo trabajo, un doctor que se divierte jugando con la vida y la muerte. La templanza tiene un cierto y retorcido sitio para él y su personalidad frivola. Siridean, "el buscador" un nombre que queda con su sed de conocimiento.

[illfoandillfie]

im at work rn but all i wanna do is write and work on the tarot project ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[kainissoable]

The Queen of Swords

The Sarafan were too many to fight, but there were other ways. Umah haunted pubs and brothels, her face obscured half by hair and half by heavy makeup. Men were often susceptible to a smile from a pretty face. A private room, a raised skirt, a glint of steel, and that was an end to them.

There had been finer assassins, but they had all been bought or killed by an enemy she could not fight. Vorador still had faith in a future and a fallen lord. Umah had long ago learned she could trust in nothing but her blade.

[diabolikgrimreaper]

Asra x fem!MC x Julian

Hey guys! I am writing a full blown 22+ chapter fan fic. Header says all. I only have the first chapter set up, but can you check it out?

I only write for females really. Since I don’t know what it’s like not to be female, or to be a man or to be non binary.

https://my.w.tt/aFsYrtZq2Z

[scp2337]

hot take

portia thearcana is lesmbian and i think thats really cool of her

[inhuman-obey-me]

17 - The Star

Chapter warnings: None

The Star card represents renewal and hope. This is the healing and peace that takes place after the storm. It may not be directly evident at the moment, for this card follows the trauma of the Tower card. Remember that you hold within you all that you need for your fulfillment - the only thing that you need is courage. To see this card is a message to have faith, for the universe will bless you and bring forth all that you need.

"Simeon, take your chihuahua back please," Lucifer sighed, dragging the little angel boy behind him across the room.

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm not a chihuahua!" Luke howled in protest. "And let go of me, you demon!!"

Simeon laughed gently, patting him on the head. "There, there, Luke," he smiled. "Don't get so upset at Lucifer for being a demon."

"Argh, Simeon, I keep telling you, you should be more upset about them!! They're demons, you know! What if they end up corrupting us and making us fall too?!"

"Oh, you're right! That'd be bad, huh? Then I might become like Beelzebub and have to eat you!" he teased, pretending to ready himself to take a bite. He laughed again as Luke yelped and stepped back a bit to growl at him for the joke. Simeon had to admit, the child may not have liked the moniker Lucifer had given him, but it really did suit him.

And it felt good to have a kid like Luke around to mess around with and tease. It had been too long since he'd had this much fun. Probably...not since the brothers had fallen?

It had been a rough few millennia.

At some point, Simeon had just grown numb to everything - the only other seraph he'd been friendly with falling, his removal from his own post as seraph for refusing to fight a war against his brothers in arms, the sneering derision from the other angels for the demotion, the relentless demands from Michael, seeing too late the same hypocrisy Lucifer had fought against. It had been difficult, and exhausting, and lonely. Eventually he chose numbness instead. There was no swimming against the tide; the brothers had already proven that.

So when he was told he was being sent to the Devildom for this exchange program, it had hardly registered to him. Just another thing he was being sent to do.

But then Michael introduced him to Luke, and asked him to watch over the young angel while they were in the Devildom.

Luke was honest and genuine. He believed earnestly in the virtue of the Celestial Realm, and held himself strictly to its principles. He was too young to know about Simeon's demotion, so there was no cruelty to his voice when he scolded Simeon for not following rules properly. He truly believed in their goodness as angels. It was a refreshingly innocent purity of faith that the elder angel hadn't felt in a long, long time.

Simeon wasn't naive enough to share in that kind of innocent faith anymore, but he wanted to shelter this child from his exhausted cynicism. He would try to shed the numbness. He would let Luke figure out on his own what angels and demons were really like. And he would face his own life with the courage of really living again. Even if that meant confronting the complicated feelings growing inside him.

--

Previous Chapter | Chapter Index | Next Chapter

[whocalledhimannux]

Title: Strength Chapter: 3 / 4 Characters/Pairings: Mello & Near, Matt/Mello Chapter Summary: I could give a real summary but tbh... this is the Mello/Matt chapter. It includes the world’s worst blowjob, a lot of yelling, weed, and a little bit of cuteness. That’s all I’ve got.

[derogatory-duck]

"The fox went out on a chilly night, he hoped the star would give him light"

Asra week 2021

Day 4: Bonds

[rumasaca]

furuya rei week | day 7 [🌖]

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