#superstition fic

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Superstition: Chapter 1

Namor x oc/reader (female)

(Currently PG-13, but likely heading towards very adult content, so read with that in mind.)

A/N: So, ya'll liked the teaser, eh? Here's a full chapter!

Tagging: Tags break my post, but I reply to comments on each new chapter when I post. Think of it as a personal, hand-written note.

Chapter 1

They said women of her kind should never touch the sea before they fell in love, that they’d lose their hearts to the waves. A forfeit to destiny or some such shit.

It was an old wives’ tale. A superstition.

But as the car careened towards the edge of the pier, rocketing over splintered wood without a hope of stopping before it hit the water, she kinda wondered if it was true. Just a little bit. The idea popped into her head like a bubble, random association as her brain fizzled through shock. Pain. Panic.

A bullet caught the driver’s side window, and it exploded in a rain of glass. Flinching away with closed eyes, she instinctively threw an arm across the wheezing, blue-skinned child in the passenger seat. The wheel jerked with the motion, and the car went over the side of the pier.

Freefall stole her belly, her sense of time, her understanding of gravity.

She had a suspended moment of clarity to reflect on her life choices, on her chances of surviving all this. In summary: she was an idiot, she missed her brothers, and she would not be seeing this adventure to its end.

None of it mattered. She had to escape, and she wasn’t about to leave the little girl with her big, terrified eyes floating in the tank beside her cell. Fuck that. The car, the pursuit, and the bullets were probably inevitable, anyway. At least she’d get the kid back somewhere she could breathe.

One of them would make it out alive.

And she’d rather bleed out from the bullet she’d caught than end her days in that cage. Or under a curious surgeon’s knife.

Better to give the ocean her heart.

They hit the water, and all was pain again. Saltwater gushed through the broken window, and the waterline climbed up the windshield much faster than she’d anticipated. But the kid looked better already. Less blue where the water swallowed her legs and chest.

Unlocking the girl’s seatbelt, she grabbed her by the arm, dragged her across her lap, and started stuffing her out the window. Hopefully she wouldn’t cut herself on the glass, but she needed to be out of the vehicle and on her way out to sea before the men with guns left their cars and started spraying the water.

“Go. Go on.” The water lapped up to kiss her chin, and ominous bubbles billowed from under the hood. She only had a few more good breaths before the car went under. “Get out of here, go.”

The kid reached through the window, pulling her arm, like she could return the favor. Scrambling to unlock her own seatbelt, she shook her head, trying to push the girl away. “I’m fine! Go!”

But as she tried to work the seatbelt free, she realized with dawning horror that the button wasn’t working. The mechanism must’ve jammed in the crash. She was anchored to her seat, and it was sinking fast.

“Fuck.”

She tipped her head back, neck straining as the surface moved up, and up, and over her face. Salt burned her eyes, and she barely saw anything beyond vague shapes in the dark water. The only light came from the full moon, and that was dwindling fast as gravity pulled her deeper. She ran her hands over the console, along the side of her seat, and along the edge of the window, looking for a shard large enough to cut herself free. But the window had shattered into diamond-sized fragments. Nothing big enough to save her.

The pressure roared in her ears, the ache bad enough to draw tears – not that she or anyone else could recognize them in this salty hell.

By the time car settled on the seafloor, about a dozen yards below the surface, she could see a faint cloud of red leaking from her side, and her brother’s taunting voice rang in her memory. “Don’t go swimming with a papercut or the water will get in, and it will get infected, and you will die.”

Well. This was no papercut, and she probably wouldn’t live long enough to get an infection, but she probably would die.

Wouldn’t he be so pleased to have been right?

She wanted him. She wanted all of her brothers. If any of the bastards shook her awake and laughed at her for being a big baby crying in her sleep she’d hug them, thank them, and never run off alone again. Or. She’d at least try. She’d really, really try.

She’d do anything.

Danu.

She didn’t want to die alone.

Thrashing in her seat, pinned as the burn in her lungs turned into frantic spasms, she clawed at the safety belt poised to end her life. Her chest was on fire. Her head felt like it might explode. How long before she broke? Before she had to breathe anything at all, even water?

Little hands clamped around her wrist, tugging.

And the damn fish kid still hadn’t left.

Fucking fuck.

The child was trying to say something. Her voice carried through the water, but she didn’t recognize the language, and it wasn’t like she could answer. Bubbles crept out her nose and she gestured out, away, towards deep water where the kid could escape their pursuers.

Shadows interrupted the moonbeams dancing over the wreck.

Gunfire, muted by the water, just barely cut through the thump of her heartbeat in her ears.

Another good tug on the seatbelt. Nothing.

She didn’t mean to open her mouth.

But she did. And the last of her air rose to stick on the roof of the sunken car in uneven bubbles. Her diaphragm jerked, inviting the sea into her lungs. It didn’t feel like water. It coursed through her like lava, an alien pressure with the soothing touch of an electrical burn.

Every limb took on a life of its own, a last ditch animal reaction to scramble for oxygen. A slow-motion blur of terror and agony as her brain shut down.

The last thing she felt was the seat belt’s sudden release, weightlessness, and hands on her shoulders.

Hands much too large to be a child’s.

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

She dreamt of cold and dark. The maw of the ocean rising to swallow her as a jellyfish pasted itself over her face.

She dreamt of fire in her lungs and strangers’ voices as swirling black swallowed the moon and stars. No lights to guide her home. No wind to breathe.

Sinking.

Drowning – in water or in air. It didn’t matter.

Shivers quaked through her half-conscious mind as she floated towards awareness, and a sharp pain nearly brought her round. Fingers pushing through the hole in her side conjured iron on her tongue, and she writhed against the weight of hands pushing her down.

But she didn’t wake enough to hear her own screams, though they burned in her throat, and she drifted again.

Soft voices carried through the grey. She didn’t understand them, but a matronly hand pressed to her forehead once, blessedly cool against the fever turning her body into a cauldron. Thick wrinkles and shushing whispers. When it left, she might’ve cried, but without strength to reach for the hand, she could only sink back from the edge of light.

The dark promised peace. Quiet. Recovery or a final end, she wasn’t sure, and if she could resist, she would. She’d call for her brothers, swim back to them, find a grip and never let go again.

But she had nothing left beyond nightmares.

She was a child again, bare feet along the cool stone of a rath’s passage – a fortress made a home, full of places to explore and trouble to find. Tired of her brothers and her cousins, she followed the dim hall alone to the golden light of the crafting room.

“Máthair?”

Her mother’s work always inspired reverence. Her dexterous fingers wove the future, capturing fate and fortune in her patterns. At play, over breakfast, when she tucked her children in at night, the stately woman with whisps of grey threading stories through her hair was Mam. At the loom, she was the Weaver, and a Weaver deserved respect, so right now she was Máthair.

Máthair made the most beautiful things. Told the most beautiful stories. Wise men turned to her for advice, like her father, and strong men followed her words in war, like her biggest brother. She listened because the Weaver was her Mam, and Mam loved her children very much, even at her loom.

“Here, Caoimhe.” Her Máthair took her little fingers and pressed them against a silver line dancing between colorful strings. A moonbeam, or a wave, alive and whispering a tale in a voice like her own. She bit her lip, smiling as she traced it, oh-so-careful not to snag the delicate pattern with her broken nails – she played hard, and her brothers played harder.

“This is your thread, a stór. Do you like it?”

“Yes, Máthair.”

But as she spoke, the thread wobbled under her touch, turning wet. An ocean seeped free, pouring from the line like a waterfall, and she took a quick step back, gasping in her high, childish voice as the water pooled quick and cold around her ankles.

The rest of the woven threads burst into flame, and the whole piece peeled off the loom, sinking with churning bubbles as the water rose.

“Mam?”

She looked, but her Máthair, her Mam, had disappeared, and when she turned back to the loom, it had gone, too, replaced with a windshield webbed in cracks.

Trapped. Sinking.

Bubbles rose like a wall, screaming in a discordant choir as they climbed towards the surface, more ghosts than air.

She whined, tugging on her seatbelt as her hands became a woman’s again, and she called for help.

“Deartháireacha!”

Salt water sloshed past her open lips, and she choked, pleading.

“Cabhair liom.”

No one heard, and the sea rushed in, eager to claim its forfeit. It would serve her heart to sharks and sea lice, to the blind things in the deep, deep dark that didn’t know of the sun, or the moon, or the stars. Her family would never find her bones, and her soul would be lost to those sunless places, crushed and alone forever.

The water closed over her. The world turned blue.

And she opened her eyes.

The fish girl sat beside her, a transparent mask over her nose and mouth like the jellyfish she’d dreamed of. Once she realized Caoimhe was awake, the kid snatched her hand from where it rested in a … hammock?

Bouncing on her feet, holding Caoimhe’s hand in both of hers, she chanted, “Hello! Hello! Hello! Hello! Hello!”

Which was interesting because she knew for a fucking fact the girl didn’t speak a lick of English before the accident. She’d tried entertaining her when they were trapped, and she tried explaining her plan when they fled, but no one could fake the blank, confused expression she earned for her efforts.

How long had she been asleep? Or was she still unconscious? Was this the figure her subconscious had chosen to guide her towards the afterlife?

Half convinced she was still dreaming, she croaked a raspy, “Hello,” of her own, and the flinching pain finally convinced her she’d really, truly woken.

In a hammock.

With the fish girl.

Who suddenly spoke English.

The fuck?

Nothing else in the space made any more sense. It looked like a cave, full of stalactites and stalagmites, some of which looked like they’d grown more or less naturally into screens. Or bars.

Another cage?

Just as her breath caught on a hiccup of fear, figures moved on the other side of the apparent bars and opened a door. They looked like the kid. Blue-skinned, wearing the gelatinous face mask and similar clothes. Two women and a man. She thought she recognized the wrinkled skin on the elder woman’s hands, and when she settled one of those hands on Caoimhe’s forehead, she was sure of it.

The woman smiled, pleased by whatever she’d found. When her hand dropped, Caoimhe checked her head herself, like she’d grown letters there she could read with her fingertips.

Had she developed a fever maybe…?

While her hand was by her head, she checked to see if her hair still covered her ears. It did. Thank Danu. She lowered her arm back to her side before anyone noticed.

The woman – the kid’s grandmother? – addressed the other two adults, and a drop of relief soothed their tight expressions. Though hardly relaxed, the good news lifted at least one of their many concerns, and they hurried to move forward.

“It’s good you’re awake.” The younger woman brought a stool beside the hammock, and the child rested her head against the woman’s knee as she sat. “We did not know if your fever would break.”

“Thank you,” Caoimhe said in her rough voice. Had she screamed a lot in her sleep, or was it a consequence of drowning? “For pulling me out of the water.”

Very carefully, she sat up, mindful of the pull in her side where the bullet hit. Something soft and a little slick rubbed over her skin, wrapped tight to her wound, but she couldn’t bring herself to look. Not yet. She didn’t want to see the damage. She didn’t want to see some strange thing she didn’t understand holding her together. Not yet.  

The light, she realized, came from overhead. Glowworms. They cast an eternal twilight through the space, and she swallowed reflexively, wondering what in the fuck she’d gotten herself into.

“Where…” She looked back to the woman, probably the child’s mother. “Where are we?”

Inclusive language. Non-accusatory. No need to ruffle any feathers. Great damn need to orient herself, though.

Stiffening even as she tried to keep her face placid, the woman shook her head softly, saying, “I will do my best to answer your questions, but our king must speak with you first.”

Her turn to stiffen. Her breathing kicked up a notch, and she wrestled against the urge to hyperventilate.

The time had come to talk of many things, of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings and why the sea is boiling hot.

She’d never heard of these people. They dressed in a fashion she might call Mayan, but she’d never heard of blue folk who breathed water, and she was getting the terrible, pressured sensation of being underwater. Like the ceiling would crack and the entire ocean would drop on her head at any second.

The little girl, still holding her hand, must’ve noticed her pulse jump, and she asked something in her parents’ language. The woman put a reassuring hand on her wrist, just above her daughter’s double grip.

“You saved our child. Our king will explain. Then we will talk.”

Caoimhe floundered, wincing as she strained to rise. “Can I – can I get up for this?”

The woman had eyes like Caoimhe’s oldest brother. A warrior’s eyes, looking within while analyzing without. She listened to the reason behind the question, the request for assistance, the desire to face their king out of bed, with a little more dignity and control than she’d find in the hammock.

Nodding, she rose from the stool and supported Caoimhe’s elbow. “Here.”

The woman helped her up, assuring she wouldn’t fall as she used her legs for the first time in…? As she gained her balance and cautiously assumed the seat with the little girl mirroring her mother’s support with much less efficacy under her other arm, the old woman Caoimhe assumed was the grandmother swooped a blanket over her shoulders, murmuring something under her breath.

Smirking, the mother said, “My mother says you look cold.”

Was she? She looked down and found gooseflesh creeping down her arms. Sometime between her rescue and recovery, they’d changed her into a simple white dress like the women of the family wore. Now that she mentioned it, she could definitely feel the damp air of the cave leeching heat from her skin. She’d been too uncomfortable to notice much besides the thrumming ache in her side and the fear stewing in the back of her thoughts.

“Thank you.”

The woman nodded again, but Caoimhe had a point to make. If things went poorly with their king, as the mother’s posture suggested it might, she wanted to make sure they knew she appreciated what they’d already done for her. “Really. Thank you. All of you.”

Regret flashed through the mother’s expression, followed by a wave of steely determination. She set her hands on Caoimhe’s shoulders, demanding her focus before she spoke. “We will speak again soon.”

Already feeling the weight of her own body, worn out by the effort of sitting up, she conserved her strength. She took her cue from the woman, nodding her agreement.

The woman straightened, her hands slipping away, and Caoimhe pulled the blanket tighter around her neck. Physical proof she wasn’t alone, that someone in this place wished her well. It immediately became the first comfort blanket she’d indulged in since she was six. Maybe, like that one, woven through with her mother’s magic, it would keep her safe.

The family left, and she summoned an anemic smile for the little girl before her parents towed her around the corner and out of sight. They closed the door as they went, and she sat in the cell, shivering and focusing on her breaths.

In and out.

Still alive.

In and out.

Lost.

Her breath caught. Fell out of rhythm.

Out and in.

At a stranger’s mercy.

Her half-drowned thoughts from the sinking car echoed in the present. She didn’t want to die. Not alone. Not so far from her family, her only real home. She wanted Eóghan to cluck over the bullet wound and put her together while Aodhfin called her twenty kinds of stupid. She even craved Dara’s disappointed glower, the weight of his brows dipping low with responsibility as he tried to express the gravity of the situation. Explaining everything she might’ve lost, what that would mean for the ones she loved.

And now she’d gone and lost herself, and once again she sent up silent prayers full of promises she knew she couldn’t keep.

Danu, Mother, let me go home and I’ll never wander again. I will be calm and still and –  

The door opened.

Her heavy thoughts had pulled her eyes to the floor, and she jerked to attention, startled to find a man watching her from the entrance to the cell.

His golden skin lacked the blue tint the kid and her family had out of the water. His ears narrowed to sharp points, and when he continued into the space, she saw the wings on his ankles.

Even without the heavy ornamentation he wore, he was every inch a king. Tall. Proud. So confident in his control of the situation he took a second stool and sat across from her.

No need to tower. To posture.

She was no threat, and he wanted her to know.

“What is your name?”

An inquisition, then. Not a friendly chat. Not yet at least. His measured tone left no room for anything but a truthful answer.

Fortunately, she had no good reason to withhold her name. The mother had given her the impression everything would be alright if she cooperated. She could give this much.

“Caoimhe.”

His chin angled up, and though he didn’t say it out loud, she could see him repeating her name in his head.

“My people call me K’uk’ulkan.”

A name she’d seen on paper. Never heard aloud. She remembered finding it in old books of mythology Dara collected. He always said their people were proof there was more to legend than empty stories. The name belonged to a fierce entity, something to be worshipped. More than a king, then.

The man named for a god observed her, gave her a moment to process what she clearly knew. Then he let the other name fall.

“My enemies call me Namor.”

The sharp dichotomy disturbed her, and she recalled the concern in the mother’s eyes. A diplomatic policy dividing the world into those he was sworn to protect and those he had reason to kill did not leave much room for negotiation. It also explained why she’d never heard of his people beyond the faintest trace of myth.

She tried not to pull away. Tried not to let her shoulders bow in an attempt to look smaller. She was what she was. She couldn’t change for this king. She shouldn’t give him the impression she could be forced to.

“And anyone else?”

His eyebrows lifted, and his eyes pierced hers. A note of challenge. “There is no one else.”

“Where does that leave me?” She often played word games with her brothers. It was fun to twist the truth to dance over a lie, to angle shadow and light in new ways across old ideas. But this wasn’t a game, and she needed answers. In all her years of play, she’d learned the bluntest tools sometimes made the best weapons. “Last I checked, I don’t turn blue.”

His tone didn’t change – this was still very much a matter of life and death – but cool amusement glittered in his eyes. “Where do you think that leaves you, surface dweller?”

She shifted, not quite squirming, keeping her eye on him. Holding still never came naturally to her, and now it was absolutely draining. He definitely noticed, and she hated it. “I’m not dead yet. Someone’s gone to great lengths to keep me that way.”

He flashed a grin, and she found he had a charming smile. Ridiculously charming, considering the circumstances. His confidence here was not at all a show. The consequences of this interaction would not touch him long, and he could afford to treat her blithely.

“Not such great lengths, but yes. Atziri wouldn’t leave your side, and her mother is one of my warriors. She argued it was a matter of honor, so I pulled you from the wreck, and her family has cared for you.”

He’d given her more information than the child’s family seemed comfortable giving. That was something. “The kid’s name is Atziri?”

A drop of warmth swam through the amusement in his eyes. Either he approved of the question, or the girl had carved out a soft spot in her king’s heart.

“Yes.”

“I’m glad she’s alright.”

It wasn’t a ploy. She was genuinely glad. Just as she would’ve been genuinely pissed if anything happened to the girl after she lost consciousness. Dying a hero and dying an idiot rode the same thread of fate.

The king huffed, white teeth gleaming as he only half-repressed his laugh. “She is much… hardier than you.”

Rude.

But probably true.

“Of course, I couldn’t help noticing you’re no ordinary surface dweller.”

Two long fingers reached out towards her face, and – bemused – she let them. She didn’t understand what he wanted, what he was doing. She hadn’t hurt her face as far as she knew, and her puzzled frown grew as the fingers passed her cheek –

And smoothed back her hair to touch the delicate point of her ear.

Fight or flight instincts carried her out of the conversation and a few steps across the cell before his hand could lower – or touch her again.

Her back met the wall as her stool clattered to the floor. Not nearly far enough. The damn stone felt maliciously designed, like the glass of the laboratory cell. And of course it was. There were bars, weren’t there? This was a prison.

Her heart kicked in her chest, the extra oxygen and adrenaline flooding her system as muscles tensed for a fight and her vision narrowed to the immediate threat.

He hadn’t moved. Hand still suspended, he drank in her reaction, studying her in a new light with a determined focus that swallowed the scraps of playful warmth he’d shown before. She told him things. With her wild eyes. Her desperate breaths. Her swift and sudden fear at being noticed. At being found out.

Clearly, he knew the ways of hidden things. He followed a very different path to secrecy, but one of his own ended up in the same hands that took Caoimhe, so even if they followed different routes, they forded the same rivers. They faced the same obstacles. The same consequences greeted their mistakes, and this – proving whatever suspicions he already had – must be another misstep.

She’d told him too much, and she rushed to banish her instinctive reaction, to distract from the cool calculations turning in the man’s eyes.

“Do you always touch women without asking permission?”

It was like slamming a door in his face. Don’t look here. Don’t wander in. Recognize you’ve strayed where you are not welcome and take a step back for both our sakes.

And, to her great surprise, he did.

The hand fell so he could rest an elbow on his knee, head tilting a fraction. Mischief twinkled through the curiosity in his eyes. No one with his kind of power should be able to summon such boyish charm. It was damn dangerous.

“May I touch you?” He smiled. A beautiful man used to getting his way.

“No. You may not.” She drew herself up. A determined prisoner prepared to bite anyone who dared breach her consent.

She wasn’t flirting. He might be.

Still grinning, like her diversion was a game he enjoyed, he lifted his hands to his shoulders, palms out, before dropping them to his knees.

She tried to think of a distraction from the distraction. This was not a very safe topic for an injured woman kept behind bars to banter over with a king. When she drew boundaries, only his honor and tastes prevented him from stepping across.

“Atziri greeted me in English when I woke up.”

His grin slowly closed, though a curl lingered at the corner of his mouth. “I ordered her mother to start teaching her. You are her responsibility now, and she must acknowledge that burden.”

Learning one of the least sensical and most unnecessarily complicated languages on the planet wasn’t a short-term investment. He called her a burden. She imagined she could feel the weight of seatbelt across her lap and chest again, anchoring her to the bottom of the sea.

Maybe she didn’t escape her death. This didn’t sound like rescue.

As she came to that realization, he read it in her face.

Once again, she shared too much, and he nodded as her expression fell towards despair.

“There was a choice to make.” His eyebrows lifted, just a little, opening his expression so she could read him in turn. Earnestness. It had been no easy decision, and her situation was urgent. Hadn’t she felt herself slipping towards the world of ghosts?

He continued, lancing the wound so as not to draw out her suffering.

“We could not leave you on the shore. You would be found again, and besides, you’d already seen Atziri.” 

She closed her eyes, wondering how she could still breathe as the gravity of his words gathered like rocks in her stomach.

Fine. Danu heard her. She didn’t die alone. But she’d never be with her brothers again. Judging by the cave and the people who needed water to breathe, she’d probably never see the stars again either.

Fucking fuck. This couldn’t be right. It wasn’t what she meant. Not at all. At the gates of death, she wanted her family. She wanted the sun.

This was all wrong.

Her knees buckled. Brought low by physical weakness and the king’s blow to her hope, she sank down the wall.

“You will stay here, the permanent guest of Atziri’s family. They will return the life they owe you, and you will keep Talokan’s secrets.”

Resolute. As hard as the polished jade in his ears. The decision had already been made, and her only choice was whether to let her tears fall now – in front of him – or later – alone. Opening her eyes took courage. And it took skill to pull the water back, to flutter her lashes just so, banishing the drops before they fell.

He approached on his winged feet as she pulled herself together, taking a knee just far enough back to not let her keep her personal space. Apparently he’d learned after touching her ear. He didn’t want to set her off, an unnecessary kindness that looked pallid in the shade of the entire life he’d just taken away. There was compassion in his gaze, but not enough to save her.

“I can always give you a quick death.”

An offer of mercy, but the finality of her only available alternative sent chills flooding down her spine. Under her blanket, she shuddered.

He picked up each hint to her thoughts, collecting the pieces of herself she so carelessly dropped, and grew a new smile.

“Though, after all the time and effort that my people have invested in your recovery, that would be a terrible waste.”

[beatlesficrecs]

Fic: kissing the blarney

by tikk

Link to fic

Summary:

In which the band make a joke about kissing the blarney stone for luck. And Paul is the blarney stone.

Then the joke becomes a game, which turns into something more important, a ritual, a lifeline, a superstition. And it's not like they believe in it, but it's not like they don't. It becomes an emotional connection, threading them together. Something to hold on to within the fame and the noise. Something warm and loving. But delicate...

Why I like this fic: It's genuinely so enjoyable, and makes you feel so many things! I really enjoy is personally because I can relate to the creation of a bit that changes the way a group of people share affection.

It's silly, it's fun, and I always love when there is a "mclennon" fic that doesn't function as one, or that includes George and Ringo in a way that acknowledges how they fit into that dynamic differently!

@zilabee

[justabigoldnerd]

A is for....

Accident

(Japan) If a cup holding medicine for a sick person is accidentally knocked over, it means that the sick person will get well soon

Acorn

(Ancient Britain) Carrying an acorn on you prevents growing old. This charm works best for women, especially if carried in pockets or handbags.

Oak trees were considered sacred by Druids, and thought to have special powers

Actors and Actresses

No dressing room should be number 13 (Bad Luck)

It is Bad Luck to have pictures hanging in a dressing room

Don't "overlook" a performer as they are applying makeup in front of a mirror (Bad Luck)

A Rabbit's Foot can be used to apply blush for Good Luck. It is kept in the makeup box.

Losing the Rabbit's Foot spells Disaster

Makeup boxes should always be kept untidy (Good Luck)

It is a Bad Omen to knock over a makeup box

If a chorus girl spills powder on the floor, dancing on it will bring Good Luck

Wigs bring Good Luck, and are often worn even when not needed to bring such luck

When kicking off a pair of shoes: If they land upright, it is a sign of Good Luck. If they fall over, it is a sign of Bad Luck.

Never put shoes on a dressing room chair (Bad Luck)

Always leave the dressing room with your left foot first (Good Luck)

If your shoes squeak when entering the stage, that means the production will go well

Stumbling when entering a stage will cause you to miss a cue sometime during the performance

Catching any part of your costume on a piece of scenery will cause you to mess up your line/lines

One can Reverse the Bad Luck above by retracing their steps and making a new entrance

If a performer suddenly falls during a performance, they will be sure to have another production at that same theatre

Peacock feathers bring Disaster and should never be worn, even by audience members

(America) A picture of an ostrich on stage is Bad Luck

Prop flowers should always be artificial (Good Luck)

The color yellow should be avoided at all costs (Bad Luck)

No real food, drink, or jewelry should be used, or else the production will fail

Never wish an actor "Good luck" (Bad Luck). Instead say something like "Break a leg"

Never open on a Friday, or the play will flop

"Macbeth" is the unluckiest play to preform

"Witches' Song" from "Macbeth" has the power to raise evil and strike the cast of the play

Never hum any music used in "Macbeth" during rehearsal (Bad Luck)

"Robin Hood" and "The Babes In The Woods" are Bad Luck plays

"Cinderella" is a Good Luck play

(America) It is Bad Luck to change the style of the costume you first reached success in

If a performer tries the handle of the wrong door when looking for the manager of a theatre or an agent, this is an Omen of Failure

Put the book/script of your play under your pillow while you sleep to memorize your lines

Adder

Adders (a snake) are Omens of Good Luck

It is Good Luck to kill the first adder you see in spring

It is Bad Luck to let the first adder you see in spring escape alive

An adder at the front door is an Omen of Death

Hanging a dried adder skin by the chimney will bring Good Luck

Hanging a dried adder skin in the rafters or the hearth will prevent house fires

Cure for an adder bite is to kill the adder and rub its body on the bite

Airplanes

Crew should never say "crash" or "prang" before a flight (Bad Luck)

Accidents/crashes come in threes: if one accident occurs, two more will follow

Many pilots and crew carry small Good Luck charms

Don't take flowers (especially red and white flowers) on a plane (Bad Luck)

(Air Force) Touching/Knocking on wood for Good Luck must be done on a living tree, because wood used for furniture is dead and therefore a Bad Omen

It is Good Luck for a pilot to empty their pockets onto the ground after landing as a sacrificial offering

(America) Always cross unused seat belts before taking off so that the spirits of the unknown are not offended

Age

It is Bad Luck to disclose your age

Don't number things. It makes them identifiable to evil spirits

To find out the true age of someone, get a hair from their head and tie it to a gold ring, then hang it inside a glass tumbler and wait for it to start oscillating. The ring will strike the sides as many times as the person's age.

Albatross

An albatross flying around a ship means stormy weather

Albatross are said to contain the souls of dead seaman

Killing an albatross gives you Bad Luck for Life

Angling

It is Bad Luck to change rods while fishing

A successful float should never be exchanged for a newer, "better" one (Bad Luck)

Bait should never be cast without being spat on first (Bad Luck)

It is a Bad Omen to place the keep net in the water before the first catch has been made

It is Bad Luck to ask a fisherman how many bites they've had. This will doom the rest of their fishing.

It is Extremely Bad Luck to sit on an upturned bucket

Animals

(Britain) It is Bad Luck to express admiration or expectation for a show animal.

The farmer can Reverse the Bad Luck by wishing a terrible fate on the show animal (like breaking its neck)

Ants

Stepping on ants brings rain (can be Good Luck or Bad Luck)

Seeing ants carrying eggs is an Omen of Bad Weather

If ants build a nest near your door, expect security and riches in the future

It is Bad Luck to destroy a colony of ants

It is believed that ants never sleep

Cure for Love: Eating ant eggs with honey

Apple

Eating an apple without rubbing it clean first is challenging the Devil

Apple trees are holy

It is Very Bad Luck to destroy an apple tree or orchards

To Find The Initial of Your Future Lover: Peel an apple in one piece, throw the peel over your left shoulder. If it stays intact, it will land in the shape of the letter of your future lover's initial. If it breaks, you will never marry.

(Austria) Learn your future by cutting open an apple on St. Thomas' Night and counting the seeds. If there are an even number of seeds, you will marry soon. If you accidentally cut one or two seeds, you will have a troubled future and end up a widow.

If you drop an apple seed into a fire while saying a love interest's name and it makes a popping sound, that person is bursting with love for you. If it doesn't make a sound, the person is not in love.

(Germany) If the first apple on a young tree is picked and eaten by a woman who has had many children, then the tree will have many fruitful seasons.

(Britain) An apple tree blossoming out of season while still bearing fruit is an Omen of Death in the family

(Europe) An apple tree blossoming out of season while still bearing fruit means Good Fortune

It is Good Luck to leave an apple or two on the ground after they have fallen to keep wandering spirits happy

Apples were once known as the food of the gods. This is the source of the "an apple a day keeps the doctor away" saying)

Apron

It is Good Luck to accidentally put on an apron inside out

A day full of small accidents can be changed by reversing the apron you are wearing

(Britain) It is Bad Luck if your apron falls off

(Other Places) If an apron falls off, the person wearing it will have a baby within a year

An apron falling off can also be a sign that your lover is thinking of you

(German) You will fall passionately in love with the person who's apron you wipe your hands on

(German) Once engaged, don't let your fiance wipe their hands on your apron. Doing so will lead to a fight

Ascension Day

It is Bad Luck to do any kind of work on this day (if you do, you will be more prone to accidents)

A lamb is always seen in the clouds on this day

If it rains on this day, the harvest will be poor and cattle will get sick

If it is a fine day, the summer will be long and hot

Ashes

Ashes are a Fertility Charm

Ashes from ritual fires (like Midsummer) are spread across crops for a Good Harvest

Remains from Easter bonfires are mixed with seeds being prepared for next the sowing (Good Luck)

Ashes are put in animal feed to ensure they grow strong and healthy

Ashes are Good Luck Charms

(France) Ashes scattered over the house will prevent storm damage

(England and America) Ashes scattered over the house will protect against evil spirits and witches

Ashes of a human being were thought to help crops when scattered to the winds just as it starts to rain, fertilizing the land as well as protecting it

(England and Wales) If ashes are spread smoothly over the hearth on New Year's Eve and footprints going towards the door are found in the morning, it means a Death in the family that year

(England and Wales) If ashes are spread smoothly over the hearth on New Year's Eve and footprints going away from the door are found in the morning, a baby will be born that year

Asthma

Cures for Asthma: Eating raw cat's meat, eating the foam from a mule's mouth, or a diet of boiled carrots for a fortnight

Astronauts

It is Bad Luck to wear any traditionally ill-omened colors

A small error or hitch in the rehearsal stage of a mission means Success

Apollo 13 Disaster was because of the number

Axe

If cattle are made to step over an axe when taken out to pasture for the first time in spring, they will be immune to evil magic and spells

(America) Carrying an axe or hoe into the house is an Omen of Death in the family

(Scotland) It is Bad Luck/Omen of Death to bring a spade into the house because it is the tool of a gravedigger

[kvetchinglyneurotic]

i need to figure out how to apply for alumni access to my university's library so i can research the historiography for my phd applications, sure, but more importantly* so i can research sailor superstitions for my sci-fi novel

[rinkunokoisuru]

Once upon a time, Lord Garmadon would not have considered himself to be a man of superstition. But with how things have been going lately, maybe he should take a moment to reconsider.

[mxboxlocks]

Bad Luck Charm

Wilson / Wes - Oneshot - Intended to be platonic, but definitely can be read as romantic! - 870 words

For three days and three nights, Wilson had been scribbling and scrawling in his notes, rethinking and rewriting equations and theories. Though he usually did this out of love, lately it had been more like a feverish obsession. He had one burning question in the back of his mind, and he needed it answered.

Why in the world was Wes so prone to misfortune?

Now, this wasn’t at all to say that Wilson believed in luck. No, what he believed in was odds. Chance, if one would so choose. And he knew very well that the odds of one being struck by lightning twice in a day were infinitesimally small. And yet, with every interaction he shared with the mute mime, it just seemed like he kept meeting those odds, no matter how impossibly thin they got. And it was very convenient that just such an event happened to occur in his presence, as he’d finally get to pry for answers face-to-face.

“Well,” Wilson said, patting his knee as he finished wrapping bandages around Wes’s arms. “That should do for now. I’ll search for some supplies for poultice - that’ll help with the stinging. And don’t forget to change these.” He said sternly, to which Wes simply replied with a sheepish smile. “Wouldn’t want a repeat of what happened last time.”

What happened last time was a nasty infection that almost claimed his already fragile life. He wished he didn’t remember it as much as he didn’t remember to change his bandages. Shaking away the thought, Wes nodded eagerly and held two thumbs up.

“I just don’t know how this keeps happening to you, Wes.” Wilson muttered quietly, shaking his head with a soft pity about his face. “It’s positively baffling. You’re like a bad luck charm.”

Wes recoiled slightly, and wilted like a lily in the heat. He looked down into his lap and sulked deeply, unable to look Wilson in the eye. How could he?

Wilson realized how insensitive his comment was a tick too late, and scrambled to correct it. “Well, I - I didn’t mean it like that… It’s just that - harsh and unfair as the Constant is, it seems particularly harsh and unfair to you.”

He huffed defeatedly, and didn’t look up.

Wilson frowned. “There has to be some sort of explanation. I mean, maybe there’s a solution here.”

“...”

“I just… I can’t stand to see you walloped on all the time.” He admitted. Wilson put a hand on Wes’s shoulder, in an attempt to comfort him. It helped, if a little bit, and at least got the mime to meet eyes with him finally. He looked so tired and sad. Wilson once thought he was the unluckiest (metaphorically) man in the world, miserable happenstance after miserable happenstance conditioning him to simply expect the worst out of the Constant. But… here he was, looking at one of the cheeriest survivors in their settlement, sad, bruised, and brokenhearted. “It’s not fair. Surely there’s something I can do to help.”

Wes slowly began signing, something he rarely ever did, even when prompted with questions. ‘I bad luck’.

Wilson did his best to brush up on his sign language, and swallowed thickly, really only understanding the signs one at a time. He’d take it slow. “That can’t be true. Luck is just, it’s just odds, chance. It can’t really be all that.”

‘Where I go,’ Wes continued. ‘Bad luck go-together. And I make danger, and I hurt you everyone.’

“That is not true.” Wilson furrowed his eyebrows, offended to hear Wes talk about himself in such a way. “My friend, if we considered you a danger, we would not house you. I promise you that.”

‘We house M-A-X-W-E-L-L.’

“Yes, well, he…” Wilson bit his lip. “Shockingly, does not put us in nearly as much mortal danger as you are implying you do.”

‘Sorry. Scared. Don’t want you everyone goodbye.’

“We’re not going anywhere.” Wilson replied softly, squeezing his shoulder. “And besides… Bad luck-schmuck, it’s just superstition, that’s all. Why, it could be spun either way. I’d say you’re lucky to be alive! And you’re lucky I happened to be around to give you medical attention when you needed it.”

Wes’s face lit up, a weary smile on his face. ‘Think so yes?’

“Sure,” He gave a soft smile in return. “Though it’s sure not ideal… I want to put research into helping you figure out what this all really is, alright? This… ailment of yours. It’s getting worrisome.”

‘Yes,’ signed Wes, a little bouncier than he was a moment before. ‘Lucky I have you.’

Wilson’s heart broke into a million little pieces as Wes pulled him into a hug. He hesitantly hugged back, patting his back and holding on for just a bit longer than he probably should have. Pulling away, he patted his hand, and nodded with a glint in his eye.

“I’ll figure this out. Don’t you worry. But until then, don’t be a stranger. Okay?”

Wes nodded happily, getting up and dusting himself off before turning towards his tent. As he took a step forward, he rolled his ankle, and immediately fell face first into the grass.

Wilson didn’t say anything as he helped him up.

i know this is a bit different than what i usually post, but i've been wanting to start writing more! i had this in my drafts for a while and finally decided to pretty it up and post it. i love wes so much </3

i tried to directly translate the sign language from what little i know rather than just write down what it was wes was saying, to sort of put the reader in wilson's shoes a bit (him being rusty and all). and i imagine wes would be a little weird with it as well, because he's french, and he's using asl here.

reblogs appreciated but never required!

[guardiandae]

“The Wounding Sickness” - Chapter 3/?

Fandom: One Punch Man / Original AU setting Characters: Healer!Genos, Hunter!Saitama, Original Characters Rating: M Word Count: 13k (so far) Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Folklore, Medieval Medicine, Hunter!Saitama, Healer!Genos, Original Character(s), Original Character Death(s), Poisoning, Illnesses, Blood and Injury, Major Character Injury, Mystery, Vampires, Witches, Cryptozoology, Herbalism, Not Beta Read; we die like people from ye olden dayse - horrifically and quite preventably

Summary:

Directly following “Silver-bound” Genos sets out to join Saitama in his monster-hunting adventures. They come across a family in need, and a town where people have been dying from a mysterious illness. There’s an abundance of clues – too many, in fact – but the only thing for certain is that the longer they take to figure things out, the more people will die, and no one is safe.

Teaser snippet:

"Can I ask the owner about getting a room?"

"You can," she said, resting her hand on her hip. "That'll run you 45 crow a night, if I like the looks of ya. What brings your travels this way?"

"Oh, just traveling for fun," Saitama answered.

"For fun, aye? Then I suppose that means you're here for wenching," she said, not seeming particularly impressed.

"Oh. No," Saitama frowned at the assumption.

"Mm-hm," she hummed, doubtfully. "45 crow a night. There's no hourly rates. I don't supply girls and I don't tolerate drunkards, swindlers, layabouts, or brutes."

"No drunkards?" Saitama repeated, with some amusement. "But you supply the alcohol."

She smiled, but her eyes were sharp. "Bar runs dry after midnight, an' I'll refuse service as I see fit. No tolerance for brawls or rowdiness, either. It bothers the horses, bothers my guests, and most importantly it bothers me."

"That's just wise business practice," Saitama said agreeably. "My husband and I are just passing through. We hunt monsters."

"Monsters, aye?" she leaned her elbows on the bar. "Ever hunted witches?"

"Witches? Nah, never had to. Killed a witch hunter once, though," Saitama replied.

"Well, keep yer darling beaux close," she advised. "There's witches hexing."

Read on AO3 - Chapter 3

[luc3ks]

Is there any place I can read/see/just consume content in general from the vile coke universe? I am absolutely obsessed with these goobers I love them the half vampire idea with Malik is so cool and oughhh Ellie,,,, ellie so pretty,,,

Actually scratch that every one of your ocs are pretty lmfao they all slay so hard😭😭

aw thank you so much :') means a lot

I‘m still working on making decent doodles and misc artworks for the rest of the cast so there‘s more goobers to come. ellie‘s bestie for the resties [partner in crime] is high on my priorities 🤞

I wish I had more about it out but I‘m still very anxious with publicly sharing anything original of mine…. so as of rn there‘s only the info I‘ve put up here LOL </3 but I‘m trying to get more expansive with the parts I share. ty for your interest, it gives me more incentive to get over my anxiety HAHA

there‘s quite a lot of backstory I‘ve yet to share. but a very fast tldr is that ellie and her bff (mariam, or "mari“ as a nickname) are childhood friends. mari‘s dad, subhi, took in malik, ellie, and michael when they got orphaned, up until relationships (see: primarily between subhi and michael) started souring. also important: mari (and subhi) is a puppy dawg werewolf

[thememecrown]

News by berry 🌚

Between updating the works (each of them will be updated) last night I managed to write all the chapters I need to update today and tomorrow!!! FINALLY.

Today and tomorrow polls will be released, I managed to identify the various couples who will come during the "spooky session".

The funny thing is that you don't know the ship behind the title, then of course my friends commented on the titles of these works 🌚

The plots may have been written on: Creepypasta, superstitions (especially Italian ones, since we have quite a few of them and quite a few of them are confusing and disturbing), legends, thriller films (not the usual ones), It could be that I used a THING inside the world of mo dao zu shi (Especially if we all remember a SPECIFIC moment, or rather a specific DEATH. And a SPECIFIC person would have done anything to get that SPECIFIC person back....... I'm not talking about Nie Mingjue, he's someone WHO IS OUT OF HIS MIND, PSYCHOPATH. He might see his soul FOR SOMETHING sweet )

This series is going to be crazy eheheh

Be careful of the bride's crying... Don't get too close or you'll notice it too late when she's near you. :)

[vcrses]

The Situationship - Post Credits Scene #1

[Read Chapter 1 Here]

Porsche woke up with a start and immediately winced. The sleep had nearly made him forget how badly he’d been beaten yesterday, and exactly how many cuts there were on his body.

His phone was buzzing incessantly next to his head, and he stretched gingerly as he reached for it. “Whozzit?” he mumbled, mouth thick with sleep.

“Porsche,” Yok said, “did I wake you up?”

“No, my dream did. What’s up?”

“Ooh, a sexy dream?” she said, the grin audible in her voice.

“A bad dream. A nightmare. There was a cobra and it was trying to strangle me.”

“That’s a good sign!”

Porsche scratched at his belly, wincing when that agitated another bruise. “Being strangled by a cobra?”

“Haven’t you heard? It means you’re going to meet your soulmate today.”

Porsche rolled his eyes. “I think it means that I let my blanket wrap around me too tight. Forget it. Why are you calling?”

“Oh, shit, yeah. You think you can be here by three? We’re expecting a big crowd.”

“For a Wednesday afternoon?”

Yok snorted. “Midweek is basically the weekend for these rich jackoffs. So? You in?”

Porsche considered. He had made enough money the night before to, partially, make his monthly payment to Gun, but he still had to worry about his tuition for the next semester. “Sure, I’ll be there. Gotta get out there if I wanna meet my soulmate, right?” he said, getting up to go buy some concealer.

[socalwriterbee]

Sharing this amazing art commission by @artbyainna on Instagram.

After writing this New Years Fic I just had to get the last scene captured and Ainna never disappoints!!!

🥰🥰

If you’d like to read what has Ethan and Tessa under a table check it out on the link below

Better Luck Next Year

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Hey all! Tech continues to go wrong. I have chapters ready to go for Hello Mr. Monster and Superstition, but we must all wait til Sunday when I should have access to my files and reliable internet at the same time.

Updates Monday at the latest. Sunday and Monday are both ten hour drives with small children so if I am slow to respond to comments from the previous chapters, please have patience with this crazy bird.

[bioticbooty]

I've been working on a rewrite of Crosshairs for quite some time, for a lot of reasons. There's gonna be a tense change because when I decided to abandon what I had already written and go from there, what came out on the keyboard came out in present tense, so obviously that was the bare minimum rewrite. But aside from that, there are a lot of different things that I wish I had done differently and bits of story I wish I had included. So. Rewrites!

My new chapter two has been sitting in this half-finished state for a while, but last night I finally nailed down a scene I'm happy with (though it will probably see some tweaks between now and posting time later this year). So as a teaser / love note to all those who have loved Crosshairs and Olivia Shepard over the years, here's my closing chapter two scene:

---

Shepard hands him the rag back, and starts piecing her rifle back together, applying lubricant where needed.

He sees writing on the stock just as she’s reattaching it. “Mjolnir?” he asks.

Shepard makes a little hum he thinks is a cross between acknowledgment and contentment. “My old head of marine detail when I served on the Cold Harbor joked that if I was too small to fire my rifle, at least I could wield it as a hammer. Told me I shouldn’t have been so cavalier with my first one. Named the damned thing Mjolnir to spite him.”

Kaidan laughs, then asks, “What happened to the first one?”

“The Blitz,” she says, “Crossing a bridge to get to the port and a batarian outfit blew the fucking thing in an attempt to stop us.”

“Shit,” he says.

It’s a wonder she’s sitting there in front of him. A fucking bridge. And all it did was apparently slow her down.

“So what did he think of the name?”

“Laughed his ass off.” Shepard leans forward and holds the Punisher out to him, exposing the underside. “Signed it, too.”

XOXO -Jones is scribbled on the bottom.

“No one’s ever signed my gun,” Kaidan laughs.

“All you non-sniper people are boring as fuck,” she replies. “Where’s the ritual? The sacredness?”

“Ritual’s happening right here, right now.”

“This is it?” Shepard shakes her head. “Boring.”

“I saw the way you were looking at Mjolnir, Commander. It was anything but boring.”

“Maintenance as the only ritual is boring,” she corrects herself. “How the hell do you know your gun is safe to use if you don’t give it a name first? Kiss the stock? Inscribe it? Bless it?”

“Do you name all your guns?” Kaidan asks, genuinely curious.

“Of course.”

“What was your first sniper called?” he asks as he finishes putting his pistol back together and sets it on the ground.

“Henry. That’s easy, you already knew we name our sniper rifles.” Shepard reaches forward and picks up Kaidan’s newly reassembled pistol. “You’re telling me this guy doesn’t have a name?”

Kaidan has to shake his head because his gun doesn’t have a name, and the crestfallen look on Shepard’s face makes him feel so bad he apologizes.

Instead of accepting his apology, Shepard holds up the pistol so it’s cradled between her two hands, almost as if she’s offering it up to him in prayer.

“Name,” she says.

Kaidan stares at his pistol. It’s a solid pistol. Armax, from the Brawler line. Sturdy and reliable, especially with the mods he’s outfitted it with. The gun has never failed him in the field, even when he’s pushed it to the edge of its limits, and he’s had it for seven years. He looks at Shepard’s Punisher, looks at Shepard. Grins as a wicked idea emerges.

“Ragnarok.”

Shepard stares at him in surprise and amazement. Then before Kaidan can do anything, she pulls an engraving laser out of her pocket and etches Ragnarok on the stock, flips the gun over, and etches XOXO -Shepard on the bottom.

When she hands it back to him, she says, “Love your gun, Alenko, and she’ll love you back.”

The way she reverently packs her sniper rifle back into its case, going so far as to wrap her scope in a small bit of fabric that looks as if its seen better days, Kaidan believes her.

[justabigoldnerd]

B is for....

Baby:

Rocking a cradle without the baby in it will doom it to an Early Death

A knife should be placed on the doorstep at a child's birth so no witch or evil spirits can do the baby harm (because they cannot cross iron or steel)

(Ireland) Spitting on a new born baby brings it Good Luck

(Wales) Rubbing a new born baby's head with honey will bring it Good Luck

Opening all the locks in the house when a mother goes into labor will give them an easy labor

(Britain) If a child is born feet first, it will be disabled in an accident UNLESS bay leaves are immediately rubbed on its legs (this Reverses it)

(Britain) A child born feet first (called "footlings" have the power to cure muscular pains

A child who's mother died in childbirth will have special healing powers and will be called upon to give the "kiss of life" to cure respiratory illnesses

If a child sees itself in the mirror before it is six months old, it will Die before the year is out

Cutting a baby's fingernails or toenails before it is a year old will cause it to become a thief when it grows up (chew them off instead of using nail trimmers to Avoid This)

(Wales) Throw the water a baby has been washed in under a tree with leaves to ensure the baby grows well

(Wales) Never put a weaned baby to the breast again or it will grow up to be a terrible swearer

Always pull a new born baby's clothes on feet first. If you pull them on head first, it will grow up unhealthy.

Kissing a newborn baby will bring you Good Luck

A baby born with teeth will be selfish

A baby born with its right hand open will be generous

A baby that first grabs anything with its left hand will have Bad Luck in life

It is Bad Luck to weigh a new born baby

▪︎

Giving away all of your baby's clothes after they grow out of them will ensure another baby to come, whether it is wanted or not

(Jewish) The Evil Eye is threatened when anyone comments on how beautiful a baby is. This can be Reversed by saying in Yiddish three times; "Whoever gave you the evil eye may it fall on them."

(Jewish) Watching a baby sleep will Doom it to Death

(America) Never put an old diaper on a baby or it will grow up to be a thief

A child should be first nursed on the left side or it will become left-handed

A child weaned in early spring will get grey hair prematurely

(America) Throwing a baby into the air will cause it to grow up a dimwit

If a baby is bald, it will grow up to be a brilliant scholar

(Louisiana) Predict your baby's future by placing a Bible, a pack of cards, and a silver coin within reach. If it picks the Bible, it will have Good Luck. If it picks the cards, it will be a Gambler. If it picks the coin, it will have financial success.

(Old England) Allowing a new born baby to pee in the fireplace will cause it to grow up clean and well-behaved

Dressing a baby in black will cause it to Die before adulthood

(Britain) The first place a woman goes after giving birth (once she can leave the home) should be the church, or she and anyone she meets will have Bad Luck. If an "unchurched" woman visits another woman, then the other woman will have a child within a year.

Bacon:

Stolen bacon is a powerful cure for fever and constipation

Badger:

Keeping a badger tooth on you makes you unbeatable in gambling

Baking:

If any flour or meal is left over after the last baked good has been prepared, then the entire baking will be spoiled UNLESS the remnants are made into a small additional cake and given to a child. (This Reverses it.)

Throwing away scraps brings Disaster

It is Bad Luck to count the number of baked goods again when they are taken out of the oven. Doing so will make them go stale quickly.

If a loaf comes out of the oven broken open, that is a Sign that a stranger will come to share it with you

Baldness:

A cure for baldness is to rub goose dung on bald patches

Never cut your hair when the moon is waning or else it will thin and fall out

Baptism:

A child should be baptized as soon as possible after it's birth, or else it is at risk of bring taken by fairies or evil spirits

An unbaptized child can be protected from fairies and evil spirits by covering it with an item of the father's clothing when danger is near

Hanging herbs, bread, salt, and a piece of steel over the cradle will also protect a baby from fairies and evil spirits

(Northern England) If a child does not cry at its baptism, it will grow up naughty and disobedient because the inherent evil spirit has not been driven out by the holy water

The holy water should not be wiped from the face, but left to dry naturally

If the baby wore a christening cap, it should be kept on for the following twelve weeks

(German) If a baby girl is baptized in the same water as a baby boy, the girl will grow up to have a beard

(America) If a baby's baptismal water is saved and given to them later, they will become an excellent singer

It is Bad Luck to call a baby by its name before it is christened

(Scotland) Children who die unchristened will become ghosts and will be seen wandering the woods and lonely places crying about their fate

(Cheshire) An unbaptized baby cannot die

(Northern England) It is an an Evil Omen for a child to be the first one christened in a new church, as they will be claimed by The Devil

(Wales) A baptism immediately following a funeral is an Omen of Death

(Wales) A baptism immediately flowing a wedding will ensure a full and haply life

Children will be weak and sickly until they are baptized

To seal the child's future, a feast should be held immediately after a baptism. The more lavish the better, and lots of drink is essential

Barnacles:

Barnacles on the bottom of a ship will turn into geese

Baseball:

It is Bad Luck to see a cross-eyed woman in the stands. If you do, you will not get a hit during the entire game

It is Good Luck to see a red haired woman in the stands, especially if you can get her to give you her hair pin

Each hair pin found represents a base hit driven home

It is Good Luck to make sure that the fingers of your glove are left on the ground pointing to your own team's dugout when you go out to bat

Each bat contains a given number of strikes. It is Bad Luck to lend a team-mate your bat, it will give away some of your luck.

A split bat is Bad Luck

It is Bad Luck to let a bat lie crosswise in front of the dugout

If a dog walks across the playing field, the team at bat will have Bad Luck

No season should ever start on a Friday

Bathing:

(British Isles) Regarding swimming in the sea or rivers for the first time: "He who swims in May will soon be laid in clay / He who bathes in June will sing a merry tune / But he who bathes in July will dance like a fly"

Washing cleanses a person of dirt and of their sins

Washing your whole body washes away your Luck

(Wales) Miners would leave their backs dirty for fear that if they cleaned them, the mine would collapse on them

It is Good Luck to accidentally come across a naked person bathing

It is Bad Luck to bathe feet first

Bats:

A bat flying by you is a sign that someone is trying to betray or bewitch you

If a bat flies around your house three times, or actually flies into the room, this is an Omen of Death or Very Bad Luck for someone you know

If a bat hits a building, that is a sign that it will rain

Bats flying around at twilight before their normal time is a sign that good weather is on the way

Bats are the luckiest of all animals, and keeping a bone of a bat in your clothes will bring you Good Luck

(Europe) Putting the right eye of a bat un the pocket of your waistcoat will make you invisible

(Africa and Australia) The life of a bat represents the life of a man, and killing one will shorten the life of a man

If a bat flies into a woman's hair, it will become entangled and can only be released by cutting the hair

Beans:

The flowers of all beans are associated with Death and the spirits of the dead

Bean flowers are scattered about the house to placate the demons

(England) If one bean in a row grows white instead of green, it is a sign that a Death will occur the coming year

(South West of England) Kidney beans will not grow unless they are planted on the third day of May. It is Bad Luck to plant them at any other time.

Bear:

(America) Bears only breed once every seven years. When they do, it causes such a disturbance in the atmosphere that any cattle in the area that were about to give birth would lose their calves.

(America) Riding a bear is a cure for whooping cough in a child

Beauty:

(Rural Britain and Europe) Bathing in dew collected fresh on the first day of May will bring you beauty

(German) Cups of cold coffee will bring you beauty

(Hungary) Bathing in human blood will bring you beauty

Bed:

The "wrong side of the bed" is the left side, because the Devil sat at God's left side before he was cast out. Waking up on the wrong side of the bed will bring you Bad Luck.

You can Reverse the Bad Luck of waking up on the wrong side of the bed by putting your right sock and shoe on first while dressing

It is Bad Luck to get out of bed from the opposite side you got in on

A Death will occur in the family if more than two people make a bed

Avoid bed sores by placing two buckets of fresh spring water under the bed daily

Never use cold boiled water for this, because that will anger the Devil and if he passes by in the night, it will catch his eyes and he will do you harm

(Europe) It is Bad Luck to clean out a room where a guest has slept until an hour after they have left. The Bad Luck may be an unwelcome guest returning

Look under the bed before you sleep to ward off the Devil

(America) It is a Bad Omen to lay a hat on the bed at any time

(America) It is Bad Luck to turn a mattress on Friday and Sunday. If it is turned on a Sunday, it will result in a week of bad dreams.

(Europe) A bed should always be pointed in an east-west direction (the path of the sun), and if it faces North to South, then the sleeper will have restless nights

Bees:

Bees are considered wise creatures with a special knowledge of the future

Bees originated in Paradise and are known as "The Little Servants of God"

It is Very Bad Luck to kill a bee

It is important to tell the bees when any member of the Bee Keeper's family dies or gets married

After a death, a relative/the Bee Keeper must go to the hive and repeat three times: "Little brownies, little brownies, your [person] is dead." If this isn't done, the bees will die or fly away.

A Bride must inform the bees of her marriage or they will leave the hive and not return

After informing the bees of a death or marriage, if the bees begin to buzz again after a few moments, then they are content and will remain

A piece of bridal or funeral cake should be left by the hive for the bees to feed on

Bees swarming on a dead tree or hedge is an Omen of Death in the family

It is Bad Luck if a stray swarm lands on your house or land

Bees should never be sold, only bartered

Giving a hive to someone gives them Good Luck

(Cornish) Never move bees without telling them or they will sting their owner

(Cornish) If bees are moved on Good Friday, they will Die

Lazy or idle bees mean Disaster

If all the bees enter the hive and none come out again in a short time, that means rain is coming

If a bee flies into your house, it is a sign that a visitor will arrive soon

(Wales) If a bee flies around a sleeping child, that is a sign that the child will have a happy life

Bee stings are a cure for rheumatism

A virgin girl can always pass safely through a swarm of bees

Beetles:

It is an Omen of Death if a beetle walks over your shoe

(Scottish) It is Bad Luck if a beetle enters a room of your home when your family is seated. It is Even Worse Luck if you kill the beetle.

(Europe) A beetle will bring a terrible storm

Beetles are Bad Omens

It is Bad Luck if a beetle crawls out of a shoe you have left by the door

Bells:

(Europe) Church bells drive away evil spirits, and if rung during a storm, they might distract the spirit of the storm and cause the bad weather to stop

(England) If two bells ring in a house at the same time, someone is going to leave soon

(England) It is a Bad Omen if a bell rings for no reason

Bible:

If a Bible is left open, it will keep away evil spirits

Bibles are commonly used for divination

(Britain and America) To tell the future for the upcoming year, open a Bible at random and place a finger on a passage without looking

(America) To find out the character of his girlfriend and whether or not he should marry her, a young man can find out her age and apply it to the matching verse in the Book of Proverbs. The verse it leads him to will be a clue to her nature and temperament

(America) To find out the character of her boyfriend and whether or not she should marry him, a young woman can place her door key in the Song of Solomon section, leaving the key ring poking out. Then the Bible must be tightly bound with her garter or stocking and two other people must be asked to hold it by placing a finger under the key ring. The woman must then repeat, "Many waters cannot quench love, neither can the floods drown it. Love is as strong as death, but jealousy is as cruel as the grave, and burneth with a most vehement flame. If a man should give all the substance of his house for love, it would be utterly consumed." If the Bible turns or falls, then she will marry. If nothing occurs, then she is unhappily going to be a spinster.

Birds:

Birds are believed to be the returned souls of dead people

Birds are symbols of Good and Evil

(Greek) The science of Bird Omens is called "Ornithomancy"

If a bird flies in and out of a window of a room, it is an Omen of Death of someone living in the house

If birds hover or fly constantly around a house, it is an Omen of Death

If a bird lands on a window sill and taps against the glass, it is an Omen of Death

(Ireland, Brazil, Australia) Black and grey birds that fly around trees at night and never settle contain the souls of Bad People who are doing penance

(France) Unbaptized children become birds when they die and stay birds until they are baptized by John the Baptist

(Scotland) If a caged bird dies on the morning of a wedding, the marriage will be unhappy and the couple will divorce

If you see a flock of birds just before you leave for a journey, the directon they fly in will indicate the success of your trip. If they are flying to the right, it is a Good Omen. If they are flying to the left, it is a Bad Omen.

It is Bad Luck if bird droppings fall on you

Birth:

(Europe) Open doors and locks and untie knots on any clothing the mother is wearing to ease the birth

(Coastal) A child cannot be born until the tide comes in. If one is born at the ebb, it is a Bad Omen.

(England) A child born via C-Section will have great strength and the power to see spirits and find hidden treasure

If a boy is born while the moon is waning, the next child will be a girl. If a girl is born while the moon is waning, the next child will be a boy.

If a boy is born while the moon is waxing, the next child will be a boy. If a girl is born while the moon is waxing, the next child will be a girl.

Sunday is the best day to be born

Children born on Christmas Day are Extremely Lucky

(Yorkshire) If a child is born at the hour of midnight, they will be able to see ghosts

(Yorkshire) It is Good Luck to place a newborn into the arms of a maiden first

A newborn should be carried to the top of a house or up a flight of stairs to ensure that it will "rise in the world"

(Kent) Put a boy's night shirt on a girl and a girl's night shirt on a boy to ensure they are "surrounded" by the love of the opposite sex later in life

(Yorkshire) Lay the father's clothes over a girl and the mother's clothes over a boy to ensure Good Luck in their love life

If a child is born with teeth, it is a Bad Omen that means they will Die a violent Death

(German) If the clouds are shaped like sheep or lambs when a child is born, they will have Good Luck in life

(Maine and Massachusetts) "First a daughter, then a son, / The world is well begun. / First a son, then a daughter, / Trouble follows after."

Regarding the character of a child born on each day of the week: "Monday's child is fair of face, / Tuesday's child is full of grace, / Wednesday's child is full of woe, / Thursday's child has far to go, / Friday's child is loving and giving, / Saturday's child works hard for a living, / But the child that is born on the Sabbath Day / Is blithe and bonny, good and gay."

Birthmark:

A birthmark is caused by the mother seeing something unpleasant or being touched by a demon or evil spirit during her pregnancy

(Mid-West America) A baby born with a double crown marking on their head (actually the shadow of the parietal and coronal suture bones) will travel a lot and live on at least two continents in their life

A child born with a caul (a thin membrane that sometimes covers the head) will become a gifted speaker

A caul will protect seafaring folk from shipwreck or drowning

A birthmark can be removed if the mother licks the mark for several days after the child's birth

Blackberries:

(France) The color of blackberries is due to being spat on by the Devil, and many people will not eat them

(England) Blackberries should never be gathered after October 11th because that is the day the Evil One fell on a blackberry bush and cursed the thorns that injured him

Blackberry brambles cure rheumatism, whooping cough, and boils

Blackbird:

Two blackbirds sitting together is a Good Omen

(Wales) Two blackbirds sitting together is an Omen of Death

Black Cat:

A black cat crossing your path is Good Luck

A black cat walking into your house is Good Luck

Killing a black cat is Extremely Bad Luck

Blood from the tail of a black cat will cure many minor illnesses if rubbed on the affected part

Black cats are used in rituals to appease the gods, but are never killed

A black cat must be completely black to have any special powers. Even a fleck or hair of white disqualifies it.

Blackheads:

A cure for blackheads is to find a bramble bush that forms an arch and on a sunny day crawl backwards and forwards under it three times, going as nearly east to west as possible

Black Sheep:

(British Isles) A black sheep brings Good Luck to a flock

(Shropshire) If a black lamb is born, it means Bad Luck for the shepherd. If a ewe has black twins, it is a sign of Disaster

Blood:

(Britian) A drop of blood taken from the pinkie finger of a man's left hand and secretly put in a woman's drink will make her fall passionately in love with him

Anyone who bleeds on Halloween will Die soon after

Blossom:

Trees and shrubs that bloom out of season are Bad Omens

(Wales) Christmas roses blooming in late spring is Ominous. Fruit trees that bud and flower out of season are a sign of Sickness or Death

If a large number of plants flower out of season, there will be a hard winter and much Sickness and Death

Blowing Out Candles:

It is Good Luck if the birthday haver blows out all the candles with one breath

(Greece) Candles symbolize life, and the number of candles displayed should represent the number of years that have already past in a person's life

If you make a wish while blowing out candles, it will come true if you blow them all out in one breath and if you don't tell anyone what you wished for

Borrowing:

"Never a lender or a borrower be."

The first three days of February and the last three days of March are Bad Luck for anyone who tries to borrow

(Scotland) It is Bad Luck to ask for a loan or plant any seeds on the first three days of February or the last three days of March

(Yorkshire) Always return what you have borrowed with grace and thanks, or you will have Bad Luck

Boxers:

It is Bad Luck if a fighter sees a hat lying on a couch or bed before a fight

It is Bad Luck to be the first in the ring

Any challenger for a title must duck under the ropes before the champion

New shoes are Bad Luck

It is Bad Luck to not spit on the palms of your gloves before confronting your opponent

Bramble Bush:

Bramble bushes cure blackheads, boils, rheumatism, and whooping cough if the suffering person is passed under a natural arch formed by the brambles

Bread:

It is Bad Luck to waste bread or throw any away, you will go hungry later if you do

Anyone who pricks the loaf with a fork or knife will never be "a happy maid or wife." Pricking should be done with a skewer.

A loaf splitting at the top while baking is an Omen of Death

Regarding the Baker's Dozen: "Twelve for the Baker and one for the Devil."

(Native Americans and British Isles) A loaf of bread weighted by quicksilver and dropped into a river will float along and stop over the place where the body of a dead person is lying

(North England) It is Bad Luck to turn a loaf upside down after cutting a slice. If this is done, the breadwinner of the family will get sick.

If a loaf crumbles in your hand when you try to cut it, there will be argument and dissension in the family

If you find a hole in the center of a loaf, this is an Omen of Death

(Europe) Bread baked on Christmas Day will never grow mold

It is Good Luck to give scraps of bread to the birds

It is Bad Luck to burn a loaf of bread

If you drop a slice of bread and it lands butter-side up, it is a sign that you will receive a visitor soon

The girl who eats the last piece of bread and butter at tea time will be in line for "a handsome husband or ten thousand pounds a year"

Breasts:

(Devon) Sore breasts can be cured by going to a church at midnight, taking some lead from one of the ornamental windows, shaping it into a heart, and wearing it on a chain around the neck

Breeze:

You can raise a breeze by scratching a nail on the foremast of a boat

Bride:

Regarding the bride's ensemble: "Something old, something new, / Something borrowed, something blue." "Something old" should be her shoes or handkerchief. "Something blue" should be sky blue for Good Luck.

A bride should wear nothing colored (except the Something Blue)

A bride should be dressed in white, the symbol of innocence and purity

It is Good Luck for a bride to wear the dress her mother wore

It is Good Luck for bridesmaids to wear blue, pink, or gold

Red is Very Bad Luck

If a bride spills even a tiny drop of blood on her gown, this is an Omen of Death

Green is Bad Luck

(Ireland) Green is Good Luck

It is Good Luck to wear a silk dress

It is Bad Luck to wear a satin dress

Wearing a velvet dress will cause poverty

A dress should have no designs. Especially not birds, which are a Bad Omen, or vines, which are an Omen of Death

A veil hides the bride from evil spirits who would want to snatch her until she is safely in the protection of her new spouse

It is important to cry when the veil is lifted for the kiss, or else her married life will be full of tears

It is Bad Luck for a bride to make her own wedding dress, to try on her wedding dress before the wedding day, or if she sees herself in a full length mirror while wearing the dress

Leave off a shoe or a glove to ward off the Bad Luck if you want to look in a full length mirror

The last stitch of a bride's dress should be added just as she leaves for the church to make sure the wedding goes without a hitch

The bride carries a boquete to ensure marital happiness because flowers symbolize sex and fertility

The ribbons tied around the flowers are Good Luck, symbolizing wishes for health and happiness by the bride's friends

It is a Bad Omen for the bridal party to meet a policeman, a doctor, a lawyer, or a blind man on the way to the church

A bridal party should enter by the door they plan to leave through. It is Bad Luck if they do not

It is a Bad Omen if the bride meets a pig or a funeral party while leaving the ceremony

It is a Good Omen if she meets a black cat, a chimney sweep, or an elephant

Grey mares are the best horses to pull a bride's carriage

It is Bad Luck if the horses are troublesome or difficult to start when the couple is on board

Throwing rice or confetti on a couple bestows them fertility

Throwing a slipper at them (it symbolizes the womb) will ensure they have children

It is Bad Luck if the couple is hit by thrown rice or confetti

Present a couple with fruit to ensure fertility

(Germany) A bride is given nuts for fertility and the phrase "to go a nutting" is a euphemism for sex

The bride must always be carried over the threshold of her new home to avoid Bad Luck

(Europe and Asia) If a bride falls asleep first on her wedding night, she will Die first

Bridesmaids:

Bridesmaids and the best man are there to prevent marriage ceremonies from being attacked by enemies wishing to carry off the bride

A bridesmaid who catches the thrown bouquet will marry next

It is Very Bad Luck for a bridesmaid to stumble on the way to the alter, it will destine her to become an Old Maid

It is Bad Luck to be a bridesmaid three times. Unless she is a bridesmaid four more times after, she will never marry

It is Good Luck to have a matron of honor, because she represents the happy state of matrimony

Bridge:

(Europe) If you say goodbye to a friend on a bridge, you will never see them again

It is Bad Luck to go under a railway bridge on foot or in a car while a train is passing

Broad Beans:

Broad beans contain the souls of the dead

Accidents are most likely to happen when broad beans are in flower

The shape of a broad bean is associated with Death

Ghosts can be warded off by scattering broad beans around the house on December 31st every year and reciting, "With these beans I redeem me and mine." The spirit is said to pick up the beans and not trouble the house for the following year.

Use broad beans to tell the future by preparing three beans on Midsummer Eve. One left as it is, one half peeled, and one with the skin completely removed. They must be hidden and the person wanting to know their future must find them. The one they find first will predict what life has in store. The unpeeled bean means wealth. The half peeled bean means a comfortable life. The completely peeled bean means poverty.

Broad beans grow upside down during leap years

Brooms:

A new broom should be used to sweep something into the house before sweeping dust out or else you will sweep away your Good Luck

(England) It is Bad Luck to buy a broom in May or you will "sweep your friends away"

(Yorkshire) If a girl walks over a broomstick, she will be a mother before she is married

Never take an old broom with you to a new house or you will carry all your Bad Luck with you

A new broom, bread, and salt are necessary when moving into a new home to ensure a Happy Future

It is Bad Luck to sweep after dark, it will prevent you from getting rich

If a child picks up a broom and begins to sweep, it is a sign that unexpected guests are on the way

It is Bad Luck to step over a fallen broom

It is Bad Luck if a broom falls over as you pass it

It is a Bad Omen to borrow a broom, lend a broom, or burn a broom

(Africa) If you strike a man with a broom, he will become impotent, unless he grabs the broom and strikes back seven times

(Africa) If you strike a woman with a broom, it is Bad Omen that means she will lose her man

Bubbles:

(Britain and America) Bubbles floating on the surface of a cup of tea or coffee is a Good Omen that means the drinker will get money soon

Bucket:

It is a Good Omen for the day to pass a bucket full of liquid when you first leave the house in the morning

It is a Bad Omen for the day to pass an empty bucket when you first leave the house in the morning

Building:

It is a Terrible Omen if a construction worker is killed in an accident during the construction of a building

If a construction worker is killed in an accident during construction, it is a sign that the building will be an unhappy one and that many deaths will later occur there

It is an Even Worse Omen if the construction worker was killed by being burned to death

Burial:

(Ireland, parts of Britain) The last corpse buried in a cemetery on any given day has to watch over a the graves until the next coffin arrives

(French) The last person to be buried each year becomes a symbol of death and will be seen in the area they lived by people who are going to die within twelve months

A coffin should always be carried to the grave "with the sun", meaning from east to west, otherwise it is Bad Luck for both the living and the dead

Buttercup:

Hold a buttercup under the chin of a friend to see if they like butter. If there is a yellow glow, they do like butter.

Butterflies:

Butterflies are the souls of the dead, and are revered

(England) Unless you kill the first butterfly you see each year, you will have Bad Luck for twelve months

If the first butterfly you see in the year is yellow, that is a sign that sickness is in store

If the first butterfly you see in the year is white, that means Good Luck

(Scotland) It is a Good Omen if a golden butterfly flies near a dying person

(Ireland) A butterfly flying near a corpse means eternal happiness

It is Bad Luck to see three butterflies together at a leaf at one time

Seeing a butterfly flying at night is an Omen of Death

Buttermaking:

Throw a pinch of salt into the fire before you begin to make butter, or else the milk will not churn

(Coastal Britain) The milk will not churn until the tide is coming in

(France) The best time to make butter is at high tide

(Scotland) Churn staffs are made from rowan wood because rowan wood is feared and hated by witches, demons, evil spirits, etc

Button:

It is Bad Luck to button up clothes incorrectly. You can Reverse the Bad Luck by taking the item off and starting over again.

If you find a button, it is a sign that you will make a new friend

(America) Learn the profession of your future husband by counting the buttons on your skirt: "A doctor, a lawyer, a merchant, a chief, / A rich man, a poor man, a beggar-man, thief."

(Britain) A similar verse to the above is recited by young boys while counting pits after eating a plate of fruit to determine their future

[thelightsandtheroses]

So, I might be writing secret smile again ...

[elismor]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Clone Trooper Wooley (Star Wars), Original Clone Trooper Character(s) (Star Wars), CT-8893 | Flood Additional Tags: swoc_bingo, Bingo, Original Clone Character, Clone Trooper Culture (Star Wars), Mention of blood, Superstitions Series: Part 1 of SWOC Bingo 2023, Part 5 of Jupiter's Living Room, Part 37 of Ten Thousand Words is a Drop in the Bucket Summary:

Better the devil you know...

Written for @clonefandomevents​ SW OC Bingo prompt: superstitions.

I’m going to use this bingo to flesh out Flood, who made his debut in ...without a paddle and got his first tat in Mark My Word. 

Stay tuned for a few drabbles and some shorts as well. :)

Card below the cut.