Template:Featured Articles/13-2023

Moment of Awesome - Marie-Ange Colbert/Tarot: When Marie-Ange has trouble with a reading, her girlfriend tries to help. "Since Garrison needs more drama," Amanda grumbled, but her face was grave. "Try a reading just for him and see what you get? Unless there's that cost thing kicking in as well?" "I still have no idea how that works. Nothing about this power makes any more sense than it did a decade ago." Marie-Ange dutifully shuffled her cards several times, and then flipped the deck. She flipped through them one by one, peeling off a post-it note and removing a piece of loose paper and tossing both into the wastebasket next to her desk. "Here..." she said, after another shuffle. "You cut this time. I am out of any other good ideas." The witch nodded and closed her eyes for a moment, focussing on Garrison before reaching for the cards. Her mental image happened to be of him wearing only shorts and that ridiculous apron in their kitchen, and her lips twitched slightly as she opened her eyes again and cut the cards, placing the bottom half on the top of the rest of the pack. "I'll give you a boost," she added, laying her hand on Marie-Ange's shoulder - they'd discovered under Tante Mattie's tutelage years ago that Amanda's magic could help Marie-Ange's precognition. The surge of magic felt smooth, like cream in tea - easy, simple, none of the grit of awkwardness for the first time that Marie-Ange could remember. She sighed into it and leaned her head into Amanda's touch - and then picked up the cards. They were the same sturdy cards she used all the time, probably her tenth or eleventh deck in fifteen years. The card stock had worn just a little soft on the edges from use, rounded and grey instead of crisp angles and bright white. She pulled a card, and set it on the desk. "What." The front of the card had peeled off, sticking to the card under it, leaving a ragged white background. The next did the same, front and back in tatters. The third fell apart entirely, the cardstock separating into fragile layers of paper and glue. Marie-Ange set the deck down, picked up a pencil from her desk and poked the cards with the eraser. "I have never, not once, had that happen. The deck that went through the flood in Baltimore did not even do that." "Oh, bollocks." Amanda's hand tightened on Marie-Ange's shoulder. "Trust Gar to have something completely new and fucked up in his cards." She frowned. "And there's nothing solid to warn him about." "Yes, because I definitely want to tell him 'my cards did strange things but I have no idea what it means' he is going to just look at me, say "Right, it's Tuesday, eh?" and make me a sandwich." Marie-Ange rubbed the scar tissue around her missing eye. Her stomach grumbled a little, and she laughed dryly. "I should have a sandwich, that part is right. You know the strange thing, there is none of the ... since the eye, it is like the precognition is pulled along, or is pulling me along. Words do not happen that I can find to make it make sense. I just know sometimes. Offer this, know that. Give up this, gain that. This time I have nothing. No strange feeling, just broken cards." "So in the meantime, we keep an eye out for anything weird... well weirder than normal." Amanda smoothed back Marie-Ange's hair. "And I can do better than a sandwich - dinner's on me, and not like the time with the whipped cream. Proper food on a table and all." "Which means regular readings and the spreadsheets. Ew." Marie-Ange said. "Yes. Food, with a table, and a wine list. It does not have to be a fancy list, just a list of more than four." She booped Amanda's nose playfully and then picked the eyepatch up off the desk, untangling the strings. "Or you could play with my hair for the next ninety-seven years, and that would also be good." "That's for later," Amanda promised, dropping a kiss on top of Marie-Ange's head before stepping back to let her collect herself. "I found this little Italian place a few blocks away. Real Mama and Papa sort of place, decent food, good wine list, desserts to die for. I asked New York to find me something nice to treat you to - no pre-cog, just thought you'd like something nice tonight."