feast*

Come, friends.
Come with your grief.
Come with your loss.
Carry all the pieces of your heart
and come sit with us.
Bring your disappointments
and your failures.
Bring your betrayals
and your masks.
We welcome you no matter
where you come from
and what you bring.
Come and join us
at the intersection of
acceptance and forgiveness
where you will find our
house of love.
Bring your empty cups
and we will have a feast.
—  Kamand Kojouri
Impromptu Feast

For @svu-stories. Because everyone needs a little love and a good meal…

“Don’t be alarmed.”

“Don’t be… do you have any idea what I’ve been going through?”

Word of the shooting flooded through the speakers while you and Derek worked an authors’ luncheon uptown, the literary elite suddenly tuned into the report, undoubtedly wanting to use reality as the jumping off point for a possible bestseller. But you couldn’t wait for their version of events; you needed to hear your husband’s voice, to skip to the final page, the last sentence, to find the happy ending.

“And when I couldn’t get a hold of you, I—”

“I know, mi amor. And for what it’s worth, I am so sorry.”

Part of you longed to leap through the phone and give him a good shake. He had to know that your mind was doing cartwheels that ended in images of him bloodied and broken while chaos reigned above the steep, stone steps. But he was fine. He was talking to you. But where had be been?

“In the thick of it,” he continued. “It’s horrible…”

This wasn’t the first time that he’d been trapped in a courthouse riddled with bullets. In the wake of that melee he assured you that you were never far from his mind, that the thought that you were miles from harm’s way kept him going. And when you finally laid eyes on him again, his vest wrinkled and his sleeves rolled up, you let him hold you because he said that was what the only way for the world to make sense again.

“I’m sorry, too,” you murmured over the phone. “I can hear how scared you still are.”

Whatever was left of your anger ebbed away, and you thought of getting a late start on dinner or taking a ridiculously early stab at breakfast, asking him when he would come home.

“I don’t know.”

“But you are okay, right?” you asked.

“It’s not me. It’s Rollins.”

The blonde detective’s face flashed across your mind’s eye, and you clutched the phone tighter as you sank to the couch. Jingles sidled up for a pet, and you barely stroked her striped fur as the story spilled out.

“A bullet hit her neck. Just missed the jugular. But there… there was still so much blood.”

“Is she in surgery?” you asked, biting down on your lip.

“For the past two hours. The doctors are doing all that they….”

His voice drifted away. Was that Fin in the background? Straining to hear, desperate to know more, you tapped your foot and waited until Rafael’s voice returned to your ear.

“Sorry,” he started. “Just got word that the shooter didn’t make it.”

“Good,” you said.

Mi amor—”

“I know that’s mean. But right now, I don’t care. It could have been you. It…”

Now your voice faded as you jumped up, startling Jingles and causing the kitty cat to race behind the curtains as you reached for your coat.

“Where’s Jesse?” you quickly asked. “I can check in on her or—”

“Carisi’s sister has that covered,” Rafael assured you. “But it’s sweet of you to ask.”

You pictured him waiting in a white room under unforgiving lights with plastic chairs, subsisting on colored water that barely passed for coffee, making the nightmare worse.

“Can I check in on you?” you quietly asked. He forced a laugh to mask what had to be tears and hesitated before he spoke.

“I don’t want you out this late,” he said. “Just stay home. Where you’re safe.”

“Really?” you challenged. His silence lasted long enough for you to cut in with your next thought. “Because I can call a cab and have it waiting right outside. No stops until I reach you. What do you say to that?”

You were already looking for your purse when his sigh stopped you in your tracks.

“I say hurry,” he whispered. “Because I need you right now.”

“I’m on my way.”

The cab ride was quicker than you had envisioned. Which was a good thing. Rafael kept texting you as the driver passed through green lights with no need to switch lanes.

You must be so tired.

Like you’re not? I’m almost there.

I’m counting the seconds.

Just one minute more.

Tipping the driver and taking a brown paper bag in hand, you approached the sliding glass doors, ready to give Amanda’s name at the reception desk and text your husband one more time.

“Hey.”

But then he was right there, his suit rumpled and his eyes bloodshot. You set the parcel aside and gathered him in your arms, grateful to hold him as he buried his head in your hair and fought to keep his sobs in check.

“Don’t do that.”

Pressing two fingers under his chin, you saw his eyes brimming and tenderly kissed his nose as you cradled his face.

“It’s okay to break down with me. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Is that all?” Before you could answer the question, he tightened his embrace, his fingers painting random circles into your back until he broke away and smiled into your eyes.

“For everything that you need,” you promised. “And I am far from empty-handed.”

He cocked his head as you retrieved the bag and granted him a peek inside.

“What is all this?” he asked.

“Brownies. Blondies. Chilled chicken salad. I even have some sourdough rolls and—”

“Did you… you couldn’t have whipped all this up while you waited for the cab.”

As nice as it would have felt to take credit for a miracle, especially now, you shook your head.

“This was for the thing with the musicians tomorrow.”

“Far be it from me to take food from a fiddler’s mouth,” he said.

“That’s adorable. But I called Derek. Told him that he’d have to improvise with his share and whatever’s on sight.”

“You didn’t have to—”

“Yes, I did. Because I want to take care of you. And your friends.”

He started to protest when he simply smiled and wrapped one arm around your shoulders.

“Who am I to say no to a free meal,” he muttered with a soft smile. “Or you.”

Taking the elevator to the hospital’s third floor, his hand firmly clasped in yours, you followed him as the metal doors slid open and saw the other members of the squad shuffling about the waiting room. Olivia conferred with a nurse at the reception desk while Fin huffed that he was going to see what he could find out in the other direction. That left Sonny slumped in one of the chairs, his head in his hands…

…his shirtsleeves stained with droplets of crimson.

Releasing Rafael, you laid your hand on his shoulder with a smile.

“Mrs. Barba,” Sonny started. “What beings you here?”

“Thought you all could use something to eat,” you said, squeezing his arm as your started to unpack the bag. As you set up your impromptu feast on the clear glass coffee table, pushing the outdated magazines aside, you started to make small talk when it seemed the wrong move. What was there to say? What could you do but feed the masses? Olivia greeted you and mumbled that there was no news, and Fin had fared no better at the other end of the hallway. Maybe this was a bad call; who could have an appetite under these circumstances?

“Is that chicken salad?” Sonny finally asked.

“Yes,” you told him. “I figured… I mean you guys probably haven’t had dinner or anything.”

“Not at the top of my list.”

His sharp tone caught you by surprise, and you hoped that you swallowed the shock back when he met your gaze.

“Sorry,” he said. “Don’t listen to me right now.” A tear brimmed in the corner of his eye, and you patted his knee and spoke softly.

“No need to apologize,” you assured him. “But you really should try to eat a little something.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because… because there’s nothing in this world that a decent sandwich can’t fix.”

Did that sound trite? You searched for something else to say when the detective held out his hand and you prepared a plate, smiling as he took two bites.

“Thank you,” he said. “But I really can’t eat any—”

“It’s a start. The food’s not going anywhere.”

Neither were you.

You watched the others pick at the platter, Olivia and Fin thanking you even as they kept getting up, hoping for answers. As the hours clicked by, you found yourself sitting in Rafael’s lap, holding his hand and insisting that he eat just a little bit more.

“I love you for doing this,” he said.

“That the only reason?” you smirked.

“You know there’s so many others.”

You wiped his mouth with a checkered napkin, ready to listen to everything and anything he might say, when a doctor emerged in green scrubs and a smile on her face.

“Are you all here for Ms. Rollins?”

Everyone was on their feet, Rafael included, and you thought that maybe you should excuse yourself for a few seconds when Rafael kept you close.

“She’s stabilized and out of surgery,” the doctor continued. “The next twenty-four hours are crucial. But we have every reason to be optimistic.”

Fin was the first to sigh, and Olivia hugged Sonny as he struggled to speak.

“Can I… is it okay if I see her?” he asked.

“It’ll be another forty minutes or so. But then yes. I think it will do her good.”

Sonny turned around, seeming like his old self for the first time since your stepped off the elevator.

“You hear that!” he said. “It’s all good.”

“I’m so glad,” you said.

“Hey I’m… I’m sorry if I was short with you.”

“No worries. Bet you have more of an appetite now.”

Agreeing with a hug, he finished his sandwich in one swallow and ducked out to phone his sister. Olivia left to check in with Lucy and Fin decided to call the precinct as he picked up a brownie.

“Thanks for all this,” he said. “Barba, you’re a lucky guy.”

Once you were alone with your husband, his face relaxed as his smile brightened.

“What he said,” Rafael started. “Not that I deserve it.”

“I’m holding court right now. And my verdict is that you do.”

Tidying the table, you shot up at the feel of his arms around your waist and leaned into his warm touch, his lips dotting your neck.

“You’re not leaving, right?” he asked as he ran his fingers down your cheek.

“Not without you,” you replied.

“It’s still going to be awhile.”

“Darling, we have all the time in the world.”

Brushing your hands together, you sat with him, curling your legs on the cushions so you could cuddle into his chest. Good news for Amanda. A happy ending in the works. But…

“I’m so glad it wasn’t you,” you said. “Does that make me a horrible person?”

“No,” he said, seemingly without a second thought. “Because I’ve spent the better part of the day thanking God that it wasn’t you.”

“Not a lot of guns in a room full of writers,” you joked.

“Because the pen is mightier, right?”

“So they say.”

He handed you a brownie, insisted that you eat something. When you were done, he kissed you, the taste of his tongue mingling with the chocolate before he pulled away and peered into you eyes.

“And you, mi amor, are the mightiest of all.”

  • Second Movement of a Symphony Nobody Wanted
Play

You know what would truly be
music to my ears?

Being able to separate
skin from bones
and my own chagrin
from sin that atones
for just how independent
I am when in close company.

I’ve sharpened my teeth
with this ireful steel
to devour your pleasance
for so very long,
I’ve lost sight that
I’ve been teething with anger
and feasting on fickle pleasantries.

This sterling patience wears thinly
yet is a shining example
of how easily the veil can be lifted.
Watch in horror
as it contorts from scrape of tongue
to shape of trident.

Three pronged attack shifts
to two hooks in the same mouth.
I am tangled in wheat stalks
but am also breaking breadcrumbs
to find false promise.

Two curled, luring fingers
become one tuning fork
lulling you to a soft sleep
with the same tiresome note.
But just when you think the noise has died
silence deafens,
no longer with suicidal ruminations,
but with a weapon lodged in your valves
nestled in the gears where you can feel it most
and then distancing footfalls
onto a better way.

The headline may read:
“tuning forked-tongued fraud
inculpates the accused
of a crime larger than
crossed hearts can bear”
but the vindication comes
when vindictive muscles can relax
knowing the skin masks of many victim suits
have been torn off to find the worst of them all.

I am no longer hurt,
I am just yours.

Being married to Halfdan the Black would include :

(Woooo more Vikings prompts! Aawwww Halfdan :3 Hope it is as requested and you all like it :3 Gif not mine/found it on google/credit to the original)

-Him still being nervous about holding your hand when you are both alone because he feels you are so delicate, but having no problem during feasts where everyone can see you both

-Him loving all the attention you pay to him since you both got married, especially the morning kisses

-Him keeping you to his side, even sitting you on his lap, during feasts with the others as he wants them to know that you’re taken

-Him opening himself up to you and having no problems with having emotions and feelings as you hold him in your arms

-Him keeping you safe during fights and always telling you that no matter what he loves you, in fear he might not make it back

-Rough sex, passionate sex and anything you would want from him because he just loves you too much

-Him having no problem telling his brother to keep his eyes off of you and sometimes even getting into a fight for it

-Him trying to do sweet and romantic gestures just to see your smile and how happy you are, as well as to get a hug from you

-Him telling you how beautiful you are to him every time you would lay on his chest as he strokes your hair, making you look up at him and everyone who would walk pass your tent to laugh

-Him admitting to you that he wasn’t sure of having kids but that since he has met you, he would want just as many that would make you happy

Treat You Better | M.C

Thanks for requesting this! Fun fact: I sang this 3 times on NYE when I was drunk. It’s been my jam ever since lmao. But hope you like this :) 

Inspired by this song

Originally posted by stateofirrelevancy

You laid on your bed, mindlessly scrolling on your phone, checking out the social media when there was a knock on your bedroom door. 

“Hey. I let myself in…” 

You looked up at the tall blonde who stood in your doorframe and exchanged smiles as a greeting. 

“You know you’re allowed to do that, dummy, you practically live here,” you giggled. 

He came and sat on the end of your bed as you hoisted yourself up to sit cross legged, which he soon mirrored. 

“So, how was your weekend at Jason’s?” he asked as you as he flicked through his phone, ready to get the takeout menu on his app for you to order your usual feast. 

“Good! Yeah good.” 

“Did he take you out like he promised?” 

You looked down in your lap and played with the strings of your sweats. 

“Well…” 

Michael rolled his eyes before tapping in his order. 

“Y/N, he promised to treat you after his shitty excuses for standing you up last week.”

You sighed as Michael began to scold you for letting your boyfriend get away with shit again

“I know, but he was tired. He was at a work’s do the night before and he was still hungover…” 

The blonde rolled his eyes again at your pathetic attempts to defend Jason. 

“Yeah, but I bet he wasn’t too tired for you to help him get off…” 

You focused your gaze anywhere else but at Michael, a total dead giveaway as to what you had done that weekend.

“Seriously? You let him take advantage of you again?” 

Michael passed his phone to you for you to add your order to the list as he gazed over at the beauty of your natural features, your brow furrowing as you studied the menu. 

“It’s not like I didn’t enjoy it,” was what you mumbled. 

Michael scoffed as he leaned his elbow on his knee and rested his chin on the palm of his hand. 

“So you’re telling me you’re fine with being his little sex toy? Because from what I’m getting here is that he just fucks you and drops you, does what he wants and doesn’t take what you want into consideration. Look how excited you got to be able to go on your date, you dragged me to three - count ‘em- three shops to pick out an outfit, so don’t bullshit me with the fact that you weren’t that bothered.” 

He was right. Jason did take advantage of you and it did seem pretty one sided on the relationship. But this was your first real relationship, not some high school lust. 

“They have 15% off the extra large pizza, are you getting one?” You tried your best to shift the topic from your tragic love life to something else; like Michael’s true love.

“It’s like you don’t even know me, Y/N” was what he teased. 


After devouring your takeout and downing a few beers, you and Michael cuddled up on the sofa to watch Love Rosie. It was your favourite film and he was probably sick of watching it, but he did nevertheless because he knew how much you loved it. 

“See? Rosie ended up finding someone who can treat her good,” Michael pointed out while taking another sip on his bud. 

“What’s your point, Clifford?”

“Well, you deserve someone who can treat you better.” 

He looked towards you, as you looked down, thinking about the reality of your relationship with Jason. Maybe it was the alcohol making you realise, but the guy was a fuckboy but with you on a lead and collar.

You turned to face Michael, but refused to look him in the eye. 

“He’s the one that I want…” 

“Bullshit,” Michael scoffed. “You’re with him because you’re scared of being alone at our age, Y/N. I know you, I can read you like a book.” 

“Not true-”

“True.”

He stared into your eyes, no falter. Dammit, you hated how he knew you so well. 

“Why settle for some shit bag when what you’re truly looking for is still out there…” he began to inch closer to you. “Maybe…. even right under your nose…” 

You eyes trailed down to Michael’s mouth which was inching closer and closer to your own. As he captured your lips in his, you began to automatically kiss back, feeling the electricity rush through you, something you hadn’t truly felt in such a long time. It took a few moments for you to sober up a little and realise what the fuck was going on, so you pulled away. 

“Michael. Stop.” 

“Why? Was that really so bad?” 

“Yes, you know it was. You’re drunk.” 

He let out a low chuckle before catching your eyes with a soft gaze. 

“Maybe the alcohol tonight is my wingman to get me to say what’s been on my mind for so long.” His voice was raspy and barely above a whisper. 

You searched his face for any falters, but there were none.

“Y/N. Who knows you better than I do? I know you like the back of my hand. Better than I know my way around every decent bar in Amsterdam. Jason is a fool. A fucking idiot. A right gobshite. Because he’s just using you like a human fleshlight, too blind and obnoxious to really see the girl that’s putty in his hands. Because he only cares about himself. Any guy to use you is a right bellend because they’re tricking themselves out of the full potential of a relationship. You’re smart, funny, beautiful beyond belief…” 

Intoxicated or not, you couldn’t help but feel the burning fire of intimacy that was building up with Michael. His pointer finger began to lightly draw patterns on your thigh, causing the heat between your legs to burn up. 

“I’d never treat you the way he does, Y/N. Say the word… and I’m yours, baby girl.” 

Your eyes trailed up and down the Aussie’s body; from his luscious locks and gorgeous green eyes, down his handsome build and back up to his smile that had the ability to make you melt. 

Fuck it.

You launched yourself forward and began to kiss Michael dry of the utter passion he put into the words that had your head spinning. He placed one hand on your soft cheek, another on the back of your head to deepen the lustful kiss. He traced your bottom lip for you to grant him entrance. You smiled into the kiss to deny him entrance. He mocked your action before pulling you flush closer to him, causing you to gasp in which that moment his tongue slid into your mouth, covering every single square inch. Your hands tangled in the nest of his silky blonde hair, feeling the sparks of exhilaration cascading within your body. 

As you finally pulled away for air, Michael leaned his forehead against yours, looking down at you with a Cheshire grin. 

“I promise I won’t let you down,” he breathed out. “I’ll never let you down.” 


MASTERLIST | SONG PROMPT REQUESTS

anonymous asked:

We are the birds of the forest. We have this, what appears to be a corn chip. Please feast. You are hungry, we think. Careful, do not break it. It is only one corn chip. A human with glasses yelled at us when we stole it from him!

holy shit. 

86 years I have served Him and He has done me no wrong. How can I blaspheme my King and my Savior?
—  Saint Polycarp of Smyrna (69-155), Martyr, Feast day February 23
Being married to Harald Finehair would include :

(Woooo more Vikings prompts! Aawwww Harald :3 GODDAMN HE’S HOT XD Hope it is as requested and you all like it :3 Gif not mine/found it on google/credit to the original)

-Him always holding you to him tightly and kissing you all over in the morning because he just loves you so much

-Him telling you that he loves you whenever you are working around the camp or house just to see your smile

-Him loving it when you would offer to comb his hair and just enjoying the feeling of your hands all over his scalp as well as the scent of your wrists

-Him still easily getting jealous despite knowing for sure that you wouldn’t ever betray him

-Him having fought and even killed men who had ever dared touching you or stare at you for a little too long

-Him always pulling you to his lap during celebratory feasts or the ones after a battle because he needs you close to him

-Him being passionate with you during sex, only to surprise you by getting rough and making you scream his name

-Him still being surprised by the little sweet gestures you do for him, such as a simple kiss on his cheek or hold his hand, making him fall for you even more with each

-Him learning to open himself up to you even more and soon enough having no problem with it

-Him always being sweet when he’s alone with you and showing his excitement at the idea of having children with you

Then Feanor arose and, raising his hands before Manwe, cursed Melkor and named him Morgoth. Then he raised his hands again, and he cursed the hour in which he had been called to the feast. Feanor was all fired up and would have liked to have cursed something else, but his raised hands had gotten tired and the rest of his curses had to be kept for another day.
—  Zvirmarillion

kamenriderzero110901  asked:

what is Jack baker and Marguerite baker swap role au are ?

Jack

_________

-He really likes baking

-He also really likes mosquitos???

-The man is constantly walking around with an apron tied loosely around his hips

-The ‘feast’ within the Bakers’ house is mostly meat pies and casserole with a mysterious filling

-He gets yelled at by Marguerite a lot

-God. For a hysterical, maniacal man, he sure looks like a kicked puppy when he’s yelled at

-Jack doesn’t get mad when Mia doesn’t eat his food. He gets really upset

-It sets Marguerite off and then Jack gets mad

-His fight is full of blood-sucking demon spawn

-Mia is very itchy after she’s killed him off

-Marguerite and Jack are far more affectionate with reversed roles

-Jack kisses her a lot and hugs her often

-In his boss form, Jack has gross and mangy mosquito wings. They don’t work, obviously. They just look very sickly and disgusting on his mangled form.

-He craves blood too

-A lot of his comments rotate around drinking Mia’s blood or eating her body

-Mia feels like she’s about to cry when Jack dies

-His last words are curses towards her and then he says ‘I’m sorry, Marguerite’

-Whatever AU you come across, the man loves his wife to the end of the earth

-He has a lot more character development than Marguerite in the original RE7

_________________________

Marguerite

-Marguerite’s go to weapon is not a chainsaw

-She prefers an old-school clever

-With some modifications

-It spins.

-Her moods affect Jack’s moods

-She’s kind of mean to her husband

-She’s kind of mean to her daughter

-Marguerite cuts off Zoe’s arm at the family feast and slices over Mia’s collarbones/shoulders

-She salty

-Marguerite is weirdly fast

-She’s super muscular too

-Honestly, Mia is kind of terrified of the knife-wielding woman

-Marguerite is the person who locked Ethan up in the cell

-She hates Mia

-She keeps asking why Clancy (yes, he takes Eveline’s place) wants her as a mother

-She keeps screeching about how Mia would be a terrible daughter-in-law

-Mia is just like ‘Shut the fuck up, Marguerite. No one fucking cares.’

On 23rd of February 664, St Boisil, second prior of Melrose Abbey, died.


He followed St Aidan as prior and was succeeded by St Cuthbert. As is usual with ancient dates there is some dispute over when the Feast of St Boisil is celebrated. But in most early calendars, it was assigned to February 23rd.
Despite Cuthbert being the more well-known of the three, Boisil was ‘famous’ enough to have the Roxburghshire village of Saint Boswells named after him.

Boisil was originally based at a monastery at Lindisfarne, where a group of monks grew tired of life by the sea. In search of forgiveness for their tiresomeness, they travelled north along the River Tweed after convincing themselves that relocating would solve their problems, with Boisil one of them.
The group landed at ‘Old Mailros’ in Tweeddale, and acted as missionaries for the locals. Boisil became well known for his healing powers, impressing his fellow monks and the community alike.

Boisil became Prior, or Abbot of the Abbey at Old Mailros in 659, and healed his pupil Cuthbert who was struck down when a plague struck down the monastery’s inhabitants.

Incredibly, Boisil also foretold his own death - from a later outbreak of the plague. On his deathbed, he is said to have predicted Cuthbert’s rise to glory.
St Boisil was buried at Melrose Abbey but his relics were removed in 1030 and taken to Durham, where St Cuthbert is also interred.

The pic shows a depiction of Cuthbert’s meeting with Boisil at Melrose

in The Feast you can’t actually type in the chat you can only use pre-chosen phrases to say 

earlier today i was trying to heal a blackmage on our team but two fucking people on the enemy team used their limit-breaks on him and he just got straight up deleted from the game and there was nothing i could do about it 

when he was laying on the ground dead he spammed “Very good!” like 4 times so i revived him and after he revived before i could heal him he ran into the enemy team, died and spammed “Very good!” like 10 more times 

anonymous asked:

Caddimoose for the coronation is tomorrow?

“The coronation is tomorrow. You can’t stay like this forever.”

Ian folded his arms. “Just watch me, James. I’ll do whatever I please. I am the future king, aren’t I?”

“You’re incredibly stubborn, your highness. It’s very annoying. And either way, I don’t think the people would appreciate a future king that only eats his spaghetti with a spoon.”

“If I need to make a royal decree that spaghetti must be eaten with and only with a spoon then I will make it!” Ian shot back.

Caddy sighed. Tomorrow’s coronation feast would be a disaster.

Royalty AU Prompts!