#SCOTLAND MATCHMAKING

[worldwidematchmaker]

Scotland Marriage Bureau Agency/Scotland Uk Matrimony Brides/Match in Sc...

[englandmatrimonial]

Scotland Marriage Bureau Agency/Scotland Uk Matrimony Brides/Match in Sc...

[professional-termite]

imagine if the star trek tos gang had tumblr lol

🔄 vulcanfuckerjt reblogged 1stofficerspock

😍 vulcanfuckerjt Follow

mannnn why are vulcans so.... ahfhfjfj lik????

🖖 1stofficerspock Follow

Hello captain.

😍 vulcanfuckerjt

sPOCKWHEN DJD YOU GET TUMBLR

🖖 1stofficerspock

Dr. McCoy reccommended this app to me this morning.

😍 vulcanfuckerjt

okkkk i think me and dr mccoy need to have a TALK

#in the meantime i need to purge this blog eughhhh

12 notes

🔄 cptnjtkirk reblogged 1stofficerspock

🎶 music-by-nyota Follow

rb for reach!!

🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 scottishthings-daily Follow

FLOWER OF SCOTLAND SWEEP!! 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

🇷🇺 russianthings-daily Follow

RUSSIAN ANTHEM SWEEEP!!! 🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺🇷🇺

🟥 redshirt-ensign Follow

who tf submitted a mitski song

🦴 bonesbonesbones Follow

i did. it reminded me of how @'cptnjtkirk feels about @'1stofficerspock :]

🖖 1stofficerspock Follow

What?

🌠 cptnjtkirk Follow

IGNOREE HIM PLEEASE

#bones istg

1.2k notes

🔄 scottishthings-daily reblogged russianthings-daily

🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 scottishthings-daily Follow

if the enterprise was a woman id want her to sit on my face

🇷🇺 russianthings-daily Follow

🤨

🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 scottishthings-daily

wRONG BLOG

26.7k notes

🔄 redshirt-ensign reblogged redshirt-ensign

🟥 redshirt-ensign Follow

abt to go on my first mission, wish me luck!!

🟥 redshirt-ensign

med bay

56.8k notes

🔄 cptnjtkirk reblogged klingon-commander

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this is a callout post for @'cptnjtkirk hes a vulcan fucker and a war criminal

🦴 bonesbonesbones Follow

you say that like theyre equally bad..?

🤬 klingon-commander

they are.

🌠 cptnjtkirk Follow

too bad im not actually either of those things lmao

#i wish... #not about the war criminak thing obv i mean #wait dammit spock can see this blog nvm

10 notes

🔄 klingon-soldier-6 reblogged scottishthings-daily

🇷🇺 russianthings-daily Follow

Posting Russian things every day, day 567: Nevsky potatoes!

😡 klingon-soldier-6 Follow

they look stupid

🇷🇺 russianthings-daily

i have your family name and home coordinates. you have 3 days to delete that post.

🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 scottishthings-daily Follow

ay, laddy...@'cptnjtkirk said to quit yer fighting!

😡 klingon-soldier-6

stfu ur in love with an ugly ass spaceship

#istg you starfleet ppl are like asking to get bullied or smthn #not my fault ur easy targets

756 notes

🔺️ engineerthrowaway74859 Follow

@'klingon-soldier-6 's full dox

130 notes

🔄 cptnjtkirk reblogged romulan-invasion

🗡 thereal-mrsulu Follow

@'cptnjtkirk Sir, there's an asteroid coming towards the ship at an alarming speed! 3 hours until impact!

🌠 cptnjtkirk Follow

cant we just move out of the way.? or blow it up

🗡 thereal-mrsulu

I can't, sir! Our controls are all jammed!

🪆 russianthings-nav Follow

can confirm, @'cptnjtkirk sir!! nothings working!!

🌠 cptnjtkirk

how?? how could this have happened???

😈 romulan-invasion Follow

:3

🌠 cptnjtkirk

shit

4.3k notes

🦴 bonesbonesbones Follow

"ooo mccoy what do i do" "oooh mccoy im in love with my first officer" "ooh mccoy--" boi stfu im a surgeon not a matchmaker

#go talk to someone else if you want help with that bucko #bones rambles

2 notes

🌠 cptnjtkirk Follow

i wish people would stop vagueposting about me :( at least @ me if ur gonna say something rude

#personal

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🔄 cptnjtkirk reblogged bonesbonesbones

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@'cptnjtkirk is a massive simp

#not what i meant but thanks i guess

36 notes

[greenwitchcrafts]

August 2024 Witch Guide

New Moon: August 4th

First Quarter: August 12th

Full moon: August 19th

Last Quarter: August 26th

Sabbats: Lughnasadh/Lammas- August 1st

August Sturgeon Moon

Also known as: Barely Moon, Black Cherries Moon, Corn moon, Dispute Moon, Harvest moon, Herb Moon, grain moon, Mountain Shadows Moon, Red moon, Ricing Moon, Weodmonath & Wyrt moon

Element: Fire

Zodiac: Leo & Virgo

Animal spirts: Dryads

Deities: Diana, Ganesha, Hathor, Hecate, Mars, Nemesis, Thot & Vulcan

Animals: Dragon, lion, phoenix & sphinx

Birds: Crane, eagle & falcon

Trees: Alder, cedar & hazel

Herbs: Basil, bay, fennel, orange, rosemary, rue & St.John's wort

Flowers: Angelica, chamomile, marigold & sunflower

Scents: Frankincense & heliotrope

Stones: Carnelian, cats/tiger's eye, emerald, fire agate, garnet, jade, moonstone, peridot, red jasper, red agate, sardonyx, topaz & tourmaline

Colors: Dark green, gold, orange, red & yellow

Energy: Abundance, appreciation, authority, courage, entertainment, finding your voice, friendship, gathering, harvesting energy, health, love, pleasures, power, prophecy, prosperity, vitality & wisdom

The name Sturgeon Moon comes from the giant lake sturgeon of the Great Lakes & Lake Champlain; this native freshwater fish was readily caught during this part of summer & an important food staple for Native Americans who lived in the region. At one time the lake sturgeon was quite abundant in late summer, though they are rarer today.

• August's full moon is the first Supermoon of the year, which means that it will appear bigger & brighter than the full Moons we have seen so far!

Lughnasadh

Known as: Lammas, August Eve  & Feast of Bread

Season: Summer

Element: Fire

Symbols: corn, grain dollies & shafts of grain

Colors: Gold, golden yellow, green, light brown, orange, purple, red & yellow

Oils/Incense: Aloe, apple, corn, eucalyptus, safflower, rose & sandalwood

Animals: Cattle (bull & calf)

Birds: Chicken/Rooster

Stones: Aventurine, carnelian, citrine, peridot, sardonyx & yellow diamond

Food: Apples, barely cakes, berries, berry pies, breads, colcannon, cider, corn, grains, honey, lamb, nuts, potatoes, rice, sun-shaped cookies & wild berries

Herbs/Plants: Alfalfa, aloe, blackberry, bramble, corn, cornsilk, corn stalk, crab apple, fenugreek, frankincense, ginseng, goldenseal, gorse, grape, medowsweet, oak leaves, pear, rye, sloe & wheat

Flowers:  Clyclamen, heather hollyhock & sunflower

Trees: Acacia, apple, myrtle,oak & rowan

Goddesses: Aine, Alphito, Bracacia, Carmen, Ceres, Damina, Danu, Demeter, Ereshkigal, Freya, Frigga, Gaia, Inanna Ishtar, Kait, Persephone, Sul, Taillte, Tea & Zaramama

Gods: Athar, Bes, Bran, Dagon, Dumuzi, Ebisu, Ghanan, Howtu, Liber, Lono, Lugh, Neper, Odin & Xochipilli

Issues, Intentions & Powers: Accomplishment, agriculture, challenges, darkness, death, endings, release & transformation

Spellwork: Abundance, bounty, fire magick, rituals of thanks & sun magick

Activities:

• Bake fresh bread

• Weave wheat

• Take walks in nature or along bodies of water

• Craft a corn doll

• Learn a new skill

• Watch the sunrise/sunset

• Leave grains and seeds in a place where birds, squirrels and other small animals can appreciate them

• Eat outside with family/friends/coven members

• Donate to your local foodbank

• Prepare a feast with your garden harvest

• Give thanks & offerings to the Earth

• Trade crafts of make deals

• Gather and/or dry herbs to use for the upcoming year

• Celebrate/honor the god Lugh by hosting a competition of games

• Participate in matchmaking or handfasting ceremonies

• Decorate your altar with symbols of the season

• Clean up a space in nature

• Plant saved seeds or save seeds to use in the future

Lughnasadh or Lammas is a Gaelic festival marking the beginning of the harvest season. Historically it was widely observed throughout Ireland, Scotland & the Isle of Man. Traditionally it is held on 1 August, or about halfway between the summer solstice & autumn equinox. In recent centuries some of the celebrations have shifted to the Sunday nearest this date.

Lughnasadh is mentioned in early Irish literature & has pagan origins. The festival is named after Lugh the god of craftsmanship. It was also founded by the god Lugh as a funeral feast & athletic competition/funeral games in memory of his foster-mother Tailtiu. She was said to have died of exhaustion after clearing the plains of Ireland for agriculture.

• Tailtiu may have been an earth goddess who represented the dying vegetation that fed mankind.

• Another tale says that Lugh founded the festival in memory of his two wives, the sisters Nás & Bói. 

In the Middle Ages it involved great gatherings that included ceremonies, athletic contests (most notably the Tailteann Games which were extremely dangerous), horse racing, feasting, matchmaking & trading.

• With the coming of Christianity to the Celtic lands, the old festival of Lughnasadh took on Christian symbolism. Loaves of bread were baked from the first of the harvested grain & placed on the church altar on the first Sunday of August. The Christianized name for the feast of Lughnasadh is Lammas which means “loaf mass”.

Some believe this is the time where the God has weakened & is losing his strength as seen in the waning of the day's light. The Goddess is pregnant with the young God who will be born on Yule.

Sources:

Farmersalmanac .com

Llewellyn's Complete Book of Correspondences by Sandra Kines

Wikipedia

A Witch's Book of Correspondences by Viktorija Briggs

Encyclopedia britannica

Llewellyn 2024 magical almanac Practical magic for everyday living

[sitp-recs]

Favourite Drarry recs (long fics maybe? pretty please?) that are ideally to enjoy this Spring season ?

Hello again! That’s a great ask - I have a long fic rec list that you might find interesting, but this inspired me to do something more specific with Spring vibes feat house renovations, cooking as love language, gardening, domesticity, no angst romance etc etc etc. This is 100% based on my own perception of spring vibes btw, but I hope you’ll enjoy these as much as I did!

💐 Short fic:

magic in the making by @getawayfox (G, 2k)

I didn’t see Malfoy for a year after the trial. When Gin told me that, according to Pansy, he had opened a little posh bakery in Mayfair, I thought she was joking, so I went to see for myself.

Market Saturdays by @sorrybutblog (M, 3k)

In which Harry is an accidental part-time cheesemonger, Draco is an organic farmer and they fall in love. Not an AU.

The Long Fall by @tackytigerfic (M, 3.6k)

It's supposed to be a simple house renovation, and maybe it's just the paint fumes, but Harry is feeling dizzy around Draco Malfoy. And what's the real meaning of family, anyway?

Ice Snakes, Glow-worms and Wolverine Stew by khalulu (M, 8k)

Harry Potter apparently wants to talk to Draco about something, but odd events keep getting in the way of that conversation – and bringing them closer together. Featuring serpentine travels, misbehaving birds, dubious roofing projects, a gay beach, and an unexpected matchmaker.

Life goes not backward by @shealwaysreads (T, 9k)

Harry still isn’t used to gifts, but this one is different. A story of coming home, finding safe ground, and the wild courage of putting down roots.

A Truth Universally Acknowledged by @sorrybutblog (M, 17k)

A year out from the war, Harry agrees to accompany Hermione on a historical walking tour of Pride and Prejudice. Not in the itinerary: running into Draco Malfoy, setting off a summer of stately homes, lavish parties, resentful shagging, and maybe, falling in love.

amid this warm and steady sweetness, orphaned (E, 21k)

Harry is not living in a period drama, no matter what his friends or his new house or Malfoy’s sudden affinity for horse-riding might suggest, and if one more person uses the word courting, he’s going to start hexing people.

💐 Long fic

Moldova's Magical Tea by @aibidil (E, 32k)

Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and—to everyone’s surprise—Draco Malfoy are opening a magical tea shop to revive wizarding tea culture and, hopefully, to bring the community together after the war. Harry, who is unemployed and trying to find his way in post-war society, wants to help his friends with their new business—but that means spending a lot of time around Malfoy.

Clouds That Veil the Midnight Moon by @drarrytrash (E, 36k)

According to Harry’s personal narrative regarding the incident, he’d hooked up with Draco Malfoy for purely self-destructive reasons, or out of convenience, or by some unlucky accident. Looking at him, sprawled in the moonlight, Harry is devastated to recall that he’d hooked up with Draco Malfoy because he’s hot.

Follow the Water by @xanthippe74 (T, 40k)

Harry Potter’s life is fine. Maybe a little dull and predictable, but he shouldn’t complain about that, right? When he unexpectedly finds himself at Luna’s house one afternoon, Harry gets invited to join the secret wonderland that she’s creating with a surprising group of friends. Maybe a summer outdoors is just what a former hero needs to bring some zest back into his life.

Through the May Air, Over the Ocean by tsauergrass (T, 45k)

Draco Malfoy never expected to find himself in Scotland or being stuck in a cottage with Potter—but wonders never cease. A story about warmth, a story about falling back in love. A story about a flock of sheep in the distant fells of Scotland.

Our Objective Remains Unchanged by @citrusses (E, 46k) - Muggle AU

Harry Potter, returning member of the Oxford University Boat Club, has two goals for the spring of 2005: beat Cambridge, and beat Draco Malfoy. Perhaps not in that order.

Sweeten to Taste by @saintgarbanzo, @babooshkart (E, 51k)

It starts with Draco's buckwheat crepes with honeyed oranges. Or maybe it starts with his porridge with toasted walnuts and homemade apple butter. Or perhaps it starts with the cinnamon buns Draco made from scratch with mascarpone icing. Harry just knows he's hungry for more.

Against All Odds by momatu (E, 54k)

Beauxbatons is hosting the first ever Quidditch Summer School for children from all over Europe, and Harry has promised to enroll Teddy as his birthday present. Meanwhile, Draco is stuck in his office, putting together the first ever Quidditch Summer School for children from all over Europe during, when he should be enjoying summer holidays.

What Branches Grow by @the-fools-errand (M, 55k)

When a run-of-the-mill investigation turns up evidence that the Death Eaters may be resurfacing, Harry seems to be the only one who believes Malfoy has anything to do with it. Yet according to official records, he’s been the poster child for the Ministry’s post-war Rehabilitation program, living in a small muggle town in Wales.

Meet Me at Midnight by @the-starryknight (T, 57k)

Harry was beginning to wonder if he’d ever make anything again when Malfoy stormed through the door of Harry’s furniture shop. Now Harry’s got an impossible Ministry commission to finish, and even less energy than ever to deal with his elusive muse. That is, until he stumbles upon the surreal and beautiful world of a mysterious fae creature…

Stately Homes of Wiltshire by waspabi (E, 58k)

Malfoy Manor has mould, dry rot and an infestation of unusually historical poltergeists. Harry Potter is on the case.

The Promise of Summer by Omi_Ohmy (M, 66k)

How was Harry supposed to know that coming back for eighth year would be so confusing? Everything is the same, and yet not the same. And nowhere is this more obvious than with Draco Malfoy. Harry finds himself once more watching and following Malfoy, trying to work him out. When they are drawn together to heal the castle, Harry doesn’t just find Malfoy - he also finds himself.

Home Truths by @skeptiquewrites and @fantalfart (E, 67k)

In the off-season Harry decided to fix up Grimmauld Place and found that Draco Malfoy was the only person who could help him. A demanding career and unrelenting press scrutiny were enough to deal with before Harry added a house with a mind of its own, family history, and a tense, flirty, complicated relationship with his childhood nemesis to the mix.

The Claiming of Grimmauld Place by @bixgirl1 (E, 74k)

When Grimmauld Place begins fighting against Harry’s ownership of it, he decides he needs help to train the historic home — but little does he expect that it’ll be Malfoy who’s most suitable for the challenge. However, as Malfoy and Harry get closer, Harry comes to understand that expectations aren’t always the best path by which to guide his heart — and in the process learns just what is needed to make a house a home.

Knead by laughingd0g (E, 83k)

This is not a story about Harry renovating Grimmauld Place. This is a story about coffee shops and brewpubs, about Ginny and Luna on a farm with creatures, about magical Oregon, coastal road trips, flying, friendship, and Draco Malfoy's lean arms.

Wild, orphaned (E, 92k)

“No,” Harry said, by way of greeting. Malfoy’s blonde head rose slowly, carelessly. “Get out.” “I feel as though we’ve already established this, Potter,” Malfoy responded. “And I feel that what we established was that you telling me to get out of places really doesn’t make me more likely to vacate them.”

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them (or Draco Malfoy's Guide to Stop Dying and Start Living Instead) by nerakrose, dustmouth (T, 96k)

Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry.

The Liars Department by @dorthyanndrarry (T, 103k)

This is a story about Harry meeting up with Draco Malfoy four years after the war. And a story about Harry, well, not hating his job per say, but it's not like he has much to compare it to and it seemed fine. His whole life seemed fine. Then Malfoy came along with and his flashy suits and fast car making everything seem dull in comparison, and Harry... Harry couldn't just leave well enough alone.

Any Instrument by @dictacontrion (E, 131k)

Draco Malfoy wouldn't go back to England for anything less than an exceptional case. Being asked to figure out why Harry Potter can't control his magic might be exceptional enough to qualify.

[lucigoo]

Weekly roundup: 1st August - 31st August

(I know its technically a month, but like the last one, its just until I catch up lol)

I wrote 13 fics in August, totalling 88,453 words so im pretty proud of that.

As always, recs first and then my fics under the cuts <3

Ringbearers - CQueen - The Hobbit (2012) (Bilbo/Thorin, aftelrife shennigans!!!!)

Summary: Having crossed over to the afterlife together Frodo decides to play matchmaker and insists that he and his uncle must go on an adventure together. What do they seek? Why his uncle's long dead friends, particularly Thorin Oakenshield.

Washing Day - StupidFatPenguin - The Hobbit - All Media Types (Bilbo/Thorin, Viking au!)

Summary: “What do you mean you bathe more than once per season?”

After only a short while of travelling with his heathen captors, Bilbo discovers that the tales of the fearsome, filthy and savage Northmen from his childhood might be much closer to great inaccuracy than the actual truth.

Dwalin Guards Thorin's Heart - SunnyRose - The Hobbit - All Media Types (Bilbo/Thorin, Dwalin & Bilbo, as always, @sunnyrosewritesstuff's fics are amaing!)

Summary: After the Carrock, Thorin pulls Dwalin aside asking him to protect his One from harm. Dwalin had no idea how difficult a task this was going to be, but the Burglar is an accident magnet!

The Tweed Fairy - lisellelascelles - The Hobbit (Jackson Movies) (Bilbo/Thorin, I rarely read smut, but when i do, its usually @lisellelascelles as it i smut with feelings, the only kind I like, and I adore this one!)

Summary: After working in the States for more than a decade, Thorin goes back to England to help his recently widowed older sister, and reconnect with his extended family. It’s early summer, the UEFA championship is firing up, and everyone meets in the local pub to watch the historic England vs. Scotland match. There he sees a small fellow all dolled up with tweed trousers and braces and a ridiculous retro football T-shirt underneath. He mocks him, coming across as a massive twat and a bigot to boot, without knowing the man is his cousin’s boyfriend’s best friend. When he later has an opportunity to redeem himself, what can he do but grab it and squeeze it…?

Take me as I am - phiaura - The Witcher (TV) (Geralt/Jaksier, please mind the tags, but it is SO good!)

Summary: Thus, a deal was struck, a treaty agreed upon. Rivia would not take military action against any allied kingdom and in turn, the kingdoms would provide the king of Rivia with a consort. So far, that last bit was the part of the treaty that had gone to shit. As far as Jaskier had understood, up to now the White Wolf had turned down all the proffered brides. If a consort was not approved, the treaty would be null and void.

Where Jaskier is the last chance of fulfilling the requirements of a treaty between the warlord of Rivia, and the allied kingdoms. Will it prove to be his rescue or his doom?

Pieces Tossed Aside - Anagrrl - Firefly (Malcom/Simon, aplocalypse au,)

Summary: Paquin goes silent. Everything else follows. AU set after the TV series.

I hope theres at least on foc for you all to enjoy, have a good week <3

Now for my fics, bare with me, when we get back to actual weekly roundups these lists will be much smaller lol.

The gold of your eyes is worth more then all of my medals (Sirius/Remus, olympics Au)

Summary: After a disastorous drunk driving crash caused by Siirus he ran from Remus, the love of his life.

10 years later and Remus is watching as the only man he has ever loved gains his fourth Olympic gold medal, now if only he owuld smile at Remus the way he is at the camera.

The Babes of War (Gen fic, pleae mind the tags, it tooks of child soldiers, im still not over the fact that 16 year old Gloin was at war!!!, also thank you so much to @mrkida-art for all the Tolkein canon information they provided which helped me write this fic)

Summary: Thror has taken to many dwarves to fight at Azanulbizar. This includes a 16 year old Gloin and his cousins, none of whom are of age.

A story of child soldiers whose whole world changes after one disatorous battle caused by a gold mad king.

Not Dorcas the Orca, two of three Marauders and a jail cell (Sirius/Remus, James Potter. Another self indulgant fic for my Wolfstar fandom family, they know who they are <3)

Summary: Sirius and James once again find themselfs in a jail cell with Dorcas (who was once an orce in this very same cell) only this isn't really Dorcas, even though they look exactly like them, huh?

Gollum's song (Bilbo & Gollum, mind the tags, MCDs)

Summary: Bilbo's heart is broken as he tries to recover as much as possible at Beorn's after BOFTA. He needs all the strenght he can regain because he has a new Quest to go on.

One where he may save another lost to the darkness the Ring causes.

That house was not a home:I never meant to leave you there alone (Sirius/Remus, Sirius & Regulus, Minor character death, grief)

Summary: Sirius wakes up in morning, reads the Daily Prophet and his whole life was suddenly changed.

The world is cruel and dark and he needs his brother who is forever gone.

There's no way out: the door is barred by the demon in my lovers skin (Bilbo/Thorin, please mind the tags, MCD, DD:DE!)

Summary: Thorin has never recovered from the Dragon sickness and ow it is Bilbo who is suffering because of it.

He is trapped and alone under Thorin's thumb and fists.

Bilbo just wants his dwarf back, instead he has a monster wearing Thorin's face hurting him.

It Was Never What It Seemed (Bilbo/Thorin, please mind the tags, it has some upsetting themes, but this, THIS is a fic i sent moe than a year on. If i never wrote anythig again, it would be ok because I managed to write and finish this particular fic A huge thank you to @sunnyrosewritesstuff for all their help writing it and for the title itself, and to @brandileigh2003 for all the emotional support i needed when writing the heavier hitting chaps. Thank you both, i appreciate it so much <3)

Summary: It has been 8 years since Bilbo has lest stepped foot in Erebor. He needs to talk to his husband, especially as he is now about to marry another. Another who is not Bilbo.

Bilbo left and when he did he left Thorin broken hearted. Now he is to marry a Blacklock Princess, consequences be damned.

Follow along with our favourite dwarf and hobbit as they find their way back to one another, No matter how painful the journey is.

Violets for the one I adore (Percy/Viktor, written for @flashfictionfridayofficial's prompt - Gifted violets)

Summary: Viktor has been a retired house husband and stay-at-home dad for 4 months now. Percy has never been happier.

There's a monster under my bed (Gen fic, Percy & Fred & George Weasley, written for the @change-is-perceivable fest)

Summary: There's a monster in Percy's room and no one will help him deal with it. Instead he is facing his bedroom door, wondering if anyone will care if the monster eats him.

It's hard being the good boy in such a large, chaotic family sometimes.

Don't try and drink your grief away (Gen fic, Percy & Geroge & Harry, grief, alcoholism, also written for the @change-is-perceivable fest)

Summary: Percy is blaming himself for Fred's death, after all he is the one who spoke to him, joked with him last.

He isn't coping well and has resorted to drinking.

Drunk Percy does something unthinkingly. Something he can't remember doing.

Destined Embrace: The Love That Healed the Noldor (Fingon/Maedhros (Tolkien), written for the @tolkienrsb, wih amaing art form the talented @wisteria53)

Summary: Fingon is going to rescue his best friend, his possibly something more, Maedhros, no matter what it takes.

Fingon is going to rescue his best friend, his possibly something more, Maedhros, no matter what it takes.

He is going to take him home to Gondolin and keep him safe. Maybe their friendship will grow along with their feelings of safety.

In the Darkness, You are My Shining Star (Gimli/Legolas, also written for @tolkienrsb, but this one has amazing art from @babybat98. I was paired with another amazing artist <3)

Summary: The Trope of Thorin Oakeshield are excavation miners in the depths of space working hard to feed and support their fledgling colony.

The neweest recruits have been allowed into space. Gimli Gloinson is one of those recruits. he is oging to learn how scary space can be, but also how very rewarding it can be too.

Back to where we belong (Ron/Hermione, as part of the Love of Fest Discord server, for the flash comp - Back to roots fest)

Summary: It's time to pick this years family holiday.

Ron knows where he wants to go. He wants to go back, he wants to go home.

[nikethestatue]

A Match Baked in Heaven

Chapter 4 Here

Part V

My Girl

Nuala W. Raith.

27 years old. A cyber security senior analyst at the New Scotland Yard. Graduated from the London School of Economics. First job was with Accenture, but was quickly recruited by the government due to her phenomenal computer skills. Fairly successful modelling career in her teens and early twenties. Longest relationship was with a Canadian hockey player. Their engagement broke up when he was photographed with a scantily-clad stripper whose head was buried in his crotch. 

Hobbies: gaming, football, rugby, cooking, live concerts

Competitive swimmer throughout her uni studies

Elain printed out the profile and placed the page in her bag. She slid her IPad into it as well and then went on to put on her coat. 

She just received a message on her phone stating ‘come out, matchmaker!’ That was exactly what she expected from her wild and untamed client.

Piglet was freaking out at the door, snorting and grunting and giving a few pathetic little barks, while he clawed at the door, impatient to leave.

“Will you calm down?” Elain muttered, and opened the door for him and he sprinted out like his arse was on fire.

There was a Bentley idling at the curb and the moment Piglet rushed out, the car door opened and Azriel Night stepped out.

Elain Archeron paused in the doorway, watching her client and marvelling at his ungodly handsomeness. Unlike his usual uniform of jeans, boots and some kind of basic shirt, today, he was wearing a dark suit, which hugged his tall, slender, muscular form to ridiculous perfection. The white shirt that was open to the chest didn’t hurt either. The dark tattoos that snaked from under his shirt and spilled over his neck and his hands made him look dangerous and desirable. It was the dichotomy of his whole being in a handsome dark package–he was a combination of dangerous and damaged, aggressive and gentle, thoughtful and mannerless, inelegant and stylish.

Suddenly, he squatted right on the sidewalk, and opened his arms wide, while Piglet leapt at him, nuzzling at him wildly, and Azriel hugged him and stroked him. 

“I missed you too, my little matey. How are you doing?”

Piglet stood on his one hind leg and placed his paws on Azriel’s shoulders, going in for a full body hug.

“How’s our girl? Is she wearing purple today, since you are rockin’ your purple tie?”

Azriel already knew the drill–outside, Piglet wore coats, ties or scarves. Today, he had on a Burberry jacket and a purple scarf that matched his coat. At home or inside, he wore his stylish bows.

At that moment, Elain stepped out of the house, and Azriel looked up and whistled loudly.

“No...she is wearing a trench coat…nice touch. I hope there is nothing underneath it…”

“Mr. Night!” Elain snapped at him, blushing profusely. “You are being scandalous and utterly inappropriate!”

He laughed, watching her, as he stroked Piglet’s back.

Elain seemed to look rather sensible, in her camel knee-length trench, a large leather tote over her shoulder, and sexy brown leather booties, but somehow, she made it all look incredibly elegant, and dare he say, sexy. Elain never went for ‘sexy’, but somehow, she made all her pristine, somewhat old-fashioned outfits look alluring. The fact that she was wearing subtle, nude fishnets didn’t hurt either. Azriel always found himself intrigued by what she was going to wear, and so far, he distinctly recalled each and every one of her ensembles. Now, he was actively pondering if the fishnets were stockings? 

“She is mad at me already! I think it’s our record time,” he whisper-shouted to the dog. “Is it my fault,” he addressed her, “that trench coats look good on sexy women and make me wish that there was nothing beneath them. It’s every man’s fantasy, you know.”

“I am not here to fulfil your fantasy,” she cut him off. “I am simply wearing a coat.”

“Mmmm.” 

He waited for her to come down the stairs and then extended his hand to her. She shook it reluctantly and he smiled brightly at her, his expression teasing.

“Did you watch the game?” he asked immediately.

“Hello to you too,” she said, while Azriel opened the car door for her and Pinky leapt in eagerly, ready for a new adventure.

“Well, hello then Ms. Archeron,” Azriel murmured, leaning so close to her that his nose almost skimmed her cheek. ”Allow me to help you inside.”

She frowned at him, as she slid inside the car, and Azriel followed her right after. 

“Good afternoon, Miss,” the driver greeted her.

She greeted him back and then looked at Azriel, a bemused expression on her face.

“Where is Mr. Night? What did you do with him? And who are you?”

He laughed, throwing his head back and she looked at his thick throat, swallowing audibly.

“I mean, a car, you are being almost polite, dressed in a suit…that’s not the Mr. Night that I know. Usually he curses, argues and taunts me relentlessly.”

“Aw, Ms, Archeron,” he ran his index finger over her long lock. “Day is still young. There is time for all that.”

“Oh, phew,” she pretended to wipe her brow. “I was getting worried.”

“You shouldn’t. The arsehole is still here and happily present. So, back to my previous question?”

“Which is?”

“Are you wearing anything under the trench?” he teased and she seethed at him as usual, crossing her arms on her chest and glowering at him. 

He raised his hands in mock surrender and said, “Okay, okay. I’ll behave. But…are you?” he whispered quickly.

“One more word, and I am leaving,” she warned.

“Dev, drive fast,” Azriel ordered and the driver smiled, as he sped down the road. 

Meanwhile, Pinkly crawled over Elain and landed on Azriel’s lap, totally disregarding Elain’s displeased hiss. Azriel chuckled, while Pinky pressed his flat face against the window. 

Elain reached into her bag and took out a pretty box with a scowl on her face. She pushed the box into Azriel’s lap without saying a word and then turned to the opposite window.

“What’s that?” he pondered.

“For you,” was all she answered. 

Curious, very, very curious, he opened the box, while Pinky tore his attention away from the window and was now panting with anticipation.

“Is that for me?” Azriel gasped, but it was genuine surprise, and not mockery. Surprise and utter delight.

The box was filled with biscuits of all kinds. Homemade.

“I said it was for you,” she shrugged like she didn’t care.

“You baked? For me?” he whispered in disbelief.

“Well, not just for you,” she argued quickly. “We had Sunday lunch at my sister Feyre’s. She served some very dodgy salmon,”

“How dodgy?” he smirked.

“Dodgy enough that we mostly ate mash and these biscuits that I brought. I had baked entirely too many. So,”

“I am getting the overflow. Thanks, pretty matchmaker!” she elbowed her gently. “I can’t believe you thought of me and made me a box!”

“Well, these are lemon,” she began pointing at different varieties of biscuits in the box. “These are almond horns. Those are orange and hazelnut,”

“Oh my god,” he marvelled in appreciation.

“Chocolate and coffee nibs. And plain shortbread.”

He looked at her. Really looked at her. Her old-fashioned, picturesque beauty, the enormous eyes, the beautiful hair, and for once, he saw someone special. Someone who didn’t fit any moulds that he was familiar with, and once again, he was at a loss. He didn’t know what to make of her.

“Elain…” he said softly, and then immediately corrected himself, “Ms. Archeron. This might be the most thoughtful and kind thing anyone’s ever done for me. I thank you. Truly.”

“You are welcome. It’s not a big thing, but you seemed to enjoy them.”

“More than you think. You baked for me. Made something with your hands…That means a lot.”

“Well, enjoy it,” Elain said gently, while Pinky was growling with impatience.

“Can I give him one?” 

“Just the plain shortbread,” Elain allowed, and Azriel fed one of the biscuits to the overexcited dog, who chomped on it noisily and messily. “He is perpetually hungry and if he could, he’d eat the whole box. He climbed onto the chair and then somehow got on top of the table and ate a whole bowl of raspberries. That was yesterday. A couple of days before, he somehow snuck into the open drawer of the refrigerator, stole a bag of sausages, ate them all, and promptly got diarrhoea…So there is that.”

Azriel was laughing silently, his whole body shaking. 

“Oh no. Why did he get the shits?”

“Because he ate like 7 or 8 sausages. He is a smallish dog. It would be the equivalent of me eating maybe 15-20 sausages. I’d get diarrhoea too!”

“Valid. What else?”

“He ate three bananas, peel and all, again by way of stealing. Then, when I wasn’t looking, he grabbed half of my cheese and onion sandwich, and ate all of that too.”

“What about the dodgy salmon?”

“Even he wouldn’t eat that!” Elain laughed. “He did eat a good heap of mash and gravy, a bread roll with butter, then proceeded to steal my sister Nesta’s steamed tofu,”

“Jesus Christ,” Azriel gasped in horror.

“Immediately spat it out,”

“Not blaming him at all. I’d spit it out too!”

“And then went to my father and cried fake pug tears to him because he was so upset that he stole and ate the wrong thing. Of course my father then had to feed him cheese and ham. As compensation of some kind. Emotional distress I am assuming?”

“My god I love him!” Azriel groaned. “I might have to steal him from you.”

“Well, then you’ll die,” she warned placidly. Azriel was laughing loudly now, considering her nonchalant tone. When he finally came to, he prodded,

“So?”

“I watched the game,” she confirmed. “You did well–one goal and two assists.”

“What about Pink?”

“Piglet watched it too. Now I can show him reruns of football games–he seems to enjoy watching things run.”

“And I am a thing that runs?” Azriel chuckled.

“You certainly are. You have incredible stamina,”

His mouth quirked and he crooned, “You have no idea…”

Elain gawked at him, and then realised what she had said, and rolled her eyes.

“You do remember, Mr. Night that I am not the one who is auditioning to be your potential wife?” She reminded him primly. “I am not the match. I am the matchmaker.”

“How can I forget? Unless you finally change your mind and just go for it,” he proposed. “You already know what you’d be signing up for with me. I have a pretty good idea about you as well. I don’t know why you are fighting this so hard?”

“Yes. I wonder why indeed.”

They were driving through the city and Piglet was panting with enjoyment, looking out the window.

Azriel gently rubbed the dog’s furry neck, relaxed against the back seat, manspreading widely. Elain threw inquisitive glances when she thought he wasn’t watching, and they mostly landed below his waist. As was his usual manner, Azriel let her look as much as she wanted. The car was big enough–even with his height and spread, there was plenty of space. So it was her choice to look, and it would be rude of him not to let her.

“I don’t want you to get so close to him,” Elain said suddenly.

Azriel looked at her quizzically.

“Piglet,” she clarified. “He is getting attached to you. He waits for you at the door,”

At that Azriel smiled, but Elain continued, 

“He thinks of you as a friend.”

“I am his friend,”

“But this is all temporary. You understand that, don’t you? Once you are matched with the right person, our relationship will end. And I don’t want Piglet to think that you’ll be around, coming to play with him or be present in his and my life,”

Azriel chewed the inside of his cheek for a long while, thinking about what she said.

“It doesn’t have to end,” he said at last.

Please don’t.

Don’t end it. 

“You are a client, Mr. Night,” Elain added, “I can’t imagine you’d have time for me once you are getting to know your future wife and getting married.”

“That’s it then?”

“Couple of months, maybe three, at most,” she confirmed. “That’s how long most of my associations with my clients last. One lasted a year, but that’s highly unusual. Besides, you are under a time constraint. I imagine that by January, we will be done.”

“I am sorry, but I disagree, Ms. Archeron,” Azriel said firmly. “Perhaps this is how things have gone before, but I cannot accept it. Let’s come up with a new agreement then…a new plan,”

“What sort of plan?”

“Something that would allow us to keep in touch beyond this initial agreement,”

“Like what?”

He shrugged, scrubbing his hand over his chin.

“Teach me manners?” he proposed. “Proper manners. Like a gentleman.”

Elain laughed, “I am not a miracle worker, Mr. Night. I am not sure I have the capability to do something like that.”

“You aren’t giving yourself enough credit. But for now, why don’t we just leave things as status quo. Three-four months is a long time. Lots of things could happen in that timeframe. Meanwhile, I’d like to keep meeting with you and Pinky.”

“Yes, I suppose,” she agreed, somewhat reluctantly.

“Do you not like me, Ms. Archeron?” he queried, no hesitation in his question.

“No, I wouldn’t say that,” she admitted. “But you are an usual client for me, and I struggle with reigning you in,”

“Perhaps you shouldn't try? And just let things be as they are?” he suggested. “Maybe I am not meant to be reigned in?”

“It’s beginning to look like that,” Elain sighed. “Now, where are we going? Why couldn’t we meet at my office?”

“Where is your sense of adventure?” he smiled. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Hmmm…Very, very marginally.”

“Aw, you wound me, Ms. Archeron! But I will take you to a place you’ll undoubtedly enjoy.”

Elain looked outside the window and suddenly felt Azriel’s large, heavy palm cover her hand. He was silent, but he threaded their fingers together and held her hand firmly in his.

She turned her head and breathed, ‘Mr. Night’.

He looked straight at her, his face emotionless as usual, but said just as softly ‘Ms. Archeron’. He almost dared her to say something, or tug her hand away from his, but he wouldn’t allow it, and just kept her in place. To her credit, she didn’t attempt to either.

Piglet turned his head and looked at them, assessing the hand-holding. Then, bouncing with a surplus of excitement, he jumped on Azriel, bucking and shimmying wildly, before rolling onto Elain’s lap, waiting for a belly scratch, and then slithering back on Azriel.

“See, he is on our side,” Azriel chuckled, scratching the supple rolls of fat on the pug. “He is team Elriel.”

“Team what?”

“Elriel,” 

“I don’t know what that means.”

“El–for Elain, and Riel for Azriel. Duh? Do I have to teach you everything?!”

“Where do you even come up with this nonsense?” she looked at him, perplexed.

“Elriel is not nonsense, Ms. Archeron. It’s our ship name. Pinky is the first shipper.”

“My god. You’ve read too many romance novels, Mr. Night.”

“Yeah, well, it gets boring on the road,” he shrugged. “So I read.”

“Romance novels?”

“Fantasy. Dark romance. Romantasy. Whatever.”

“Romantasy?”

“Are you judging me?”

“No, no. Not at all,” she shook her head, stifling a laugh.

They crossed the river, and Elain looked around, trying to figure out where they were going.

At last, she exclaimed, “Borough Market?”

“Nope,” he popped his lips.

“Where then?!” she whined.

“Patience.”

“I want the apple crisp!” she begged.

“You always seem to want some kind of apple crisp,” he teased. 

“It’s my favourite. This one has bruleed custard on top. It’s so goooddd,” she moaned.

“Maybe next time,” he promised, smiling to himself.

The appreciation that he had for Elain’s unabashed love for food and eating was hard to describe. All the other women he ever went out with insisted on salads, pretended like they weren’t hungry, opted for tofu and seaweed, and in general, avoided eating as much as possible. Elain was about tea, and custard, and cake, and hearty stews.

“We are here,” he said at last. The car parked and he went to open the door. Pinky hopped out first, and then Elain climbed out and threw her head back.

“We are going to the Shard?” she asked.

“We are!” He curled his arm offering it to her and she took it. 

Elain seemed surprised, but she followed him nevertheless, while Pinky stepped in front of them with his usual self importance, like he knew where he was going. Azriel could only dream of having this dog’s confidence!

The three of them took the lift up to Shangri-La hotel and were immediately greeted by an obsequious female hostess, who looked at Azriel like he was a dick-on-a-stick.

“Mr. Night, please follow me,” she flitted about, swaying her hips, as she paid no attention to Elain, and ushered them to a table in front of the windows, which overlooked the stunning vistas of London. It felt as if they sat right on top of Tower Bridge. Piglet plastered his face against the window, snorting with amazement. Whatever he was seeing, he was very impressed. 

“He is a support animal. We have all the documentation,” Azriel told the hostess, but she waved her hand at him.

“Of course, Mr. Night. That wouldn’t be a problem.”

“He is very well-behaved,” Azriel assured her, while observing Elain’s pinched little face. She wasn’t liking what was happening here.

Finally, the woman left, and Elain muttered, “Why even ask me for help? You have a ready-to-go wife right here. Wives on tap, I am sure.”

Azriel laughed at her.

“If I didn’t know you better, I would’ve thought that you were jealous, Ms. Archeron.”

“Jealous? Hardly,” she scoffed. 

“Phew, I was beginning to worry that you were developing feelings for me and my company,” he snickered. “Allow me,” he offered to take her trench–something the hostess should’ve done, but apparently, she was too star struck.

Elain unbelted and shrugged the coat off and Azriel looked her over with interest that he wasn’t even trying to hide. 

“Blimey,” he exhaled. 

Elain wore a form-fitting nude jumper and a knee-length skirt with brown and purple abstract pattern. Frankly, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the round pair of glorious tits that the jumper did all kinds of favours for. He even liked the one strand of fat pearls around her neck. 

“None. Don’t worry. But,” she looked around, “this is nice. Thank you, Mr. Night. I appreciate the thought. Imagine–I’ve never been here before. It’s been on the list of places to go, but we never could make it. So, thank you! I’ve just checked an item off my bucket list.”

“The pleasure is mine, Ms. Archeron,” he included his head. “Care to share what else is on your bucket list?”

“No,” she told him immediately, as she pulled out her IPad from her bag. “We are here to talk about you.”

He held the chair for her and she sat down.

“And here I thought that this Pink Afternoon Tea will thaw you a bit! Champagne at least?”

“I’ll have a glass,” she agreed graciously.

“You are not pregnant or anything like that, right?” he goaded her. 

She rolled her eyes and told him, “Not that I am not aware of.”

“So. There is someone in your life to get pregnant by?” he pressed.

“I’ll be asking you a series of questions,” Elain said, ignoring him and his probing. “Please answer truthfully. I am building your profile. There are no right or wrong answers.”

“May I tell you something meanwhile?”

“Sure.”

“You look sexy as fuck, matchmaker. It’s dangerous.”

She sucked in her breath and nervously picked at her pearls.

“Mr. Night…”

“Ms. Archeron. I see what I see.”

At that moment, their champagne was delivered, followed by waiters with the tea service. Elain exhaled a relieved breath. 

It looked spectacular–Reuben sandwiches, Truffle Egg and Cress, Smoked Salmon, Coronation Chicken–all done in various shades of pink. There were chicken liver parfaits, and tiny burgers. Pink scones, clotted cream and strawberry jam. And a variety of little architecturally-impressive pastries–a layer cake with pistachios and cherries, raspberry plum cake, something called shang mont rose, and the Pink Sphere. 

The Pink Afternoon Tea at the Shard (Shangri-La Hotel, London)

They even brought a bowl of water and a bowl of whipped cream for Piglet. 

“It’s beautiful. Almost too beautiful to eat,” Elain commented, inspecting all the offering.

“Almost,” Azriel raised his champagne flute. “But not quite. To us, Ms. Archeron. To our tenuous friendship. Maybe it will grow into something more.”

Elain glanced at him and whispered, “maybe,” before sipping her champagne.

“I won’t be able to train properly after all this,” Azriel commented, as he bit into one of the sandwiches, “but you only live once, yeah?”

“Your first concert?” Elain asked, looking down at her IPad.

Piglet already polished all the cream off, and was now snoring softly under the table. 

Azriel thought for a second, and said,

“Eminem. I was fourteen. Cass and I snuck out and slept outside all night, but we got in. It was incredible.”

She smiled and whispered, “that must have been amazing…”

“It really was.”

“Favourite movie?”

“Fight Club.”

“Favourite singer or band?”

“Led Zeppelin.”

“I could’ve guessed. You seem like the type.”

“Oh, and what type is that?”

“Old-fashioned, but rebellious.”

“What about you? Tay Tay? Adele?”

Elain wrinkled her nose.

“If we are talking singers, then it’s Amy Winehouse,” she said. “Band–it’s always the Rolling Stones.”

“Ahhh…well, that’s to be expected.”

“Why?”

“You like the classics.”

“Look at us, figuring each other out.” Her tone was vaguely sarcastic. Then she asked the next question, “First celebrity crush?”

Azriel took a while to think about that one, sipping his tea, and finishing up his little burger.

“Brad Pitt.”

“Oh?” Elain smiled. “Really?”

“He is a beautiful man. What can I say? In ‘Troy’ I think.”

“First thing you do when you wake up?”

“Think about football,” he told her instantly. “I am dedicated to my game, my team, my city. I work hard for what I do.”

“What was your dream job when you were young?”

“I didn’t think I’d have one at all,” he told her honestly. Elain didn’t know how to follow up on that statement. “Thought I’d be in a gang, or something. Maybe in prison. Maybe dead,”

“That’s…very grim,” she frowned.

“That’s the reality of those lads who I grew up with. My reality. I just happen to run well with a ball.”

“How do you think others view you?”

“They either like me or hate me. I am good looking, so some respond to that. Others cannot abide my character. I don’t care, to be honest. I only care about the opinions of very few people.”

“Who?” she asked quickly, though he suspected that it wasn’t part of the questionnaire.

“Cassian, I suppose. Rhys. My team. Coach. You.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

Elain hid her face behind her cup, aimlessly picking at her sandwich, but Azriel watched her closely. 

“You can’t ask questions like these and not expect uncomfortable answers,” he reminded her simply.

“Why me though?”

“For a posh, prissy bird, you are surprisingly accepting. I suppose I appreciate that, so I don’t want you to think of me…badly.”

“I don’t, you know.”

“I do. And that’s what’s so surprising. You are a nice sort of person.”

Elain adjusted her hair, trying to make herself comfortable, and asked,

“What do you not tolerate?”

“Disloyalty. Random cruelty.”

Her eyes fell on his scarred hands, while he spread some jam on his scone and popped it in his mouth. Despite the scars, his hands were attractive. Big and strong and sure.

“Where do you want to live?”

“London. It’s home. It understands me.”

“Biggest fear?”

He didn’t say anything for a while.

“I’ll tell you,” he drummed his fingers on the table, “but we say it together. You say yours, and I’ll say mine.”

“Mr. Night,” she began, but he interrupted her.

“No, Ms. Archeron. This is the way we do it. If you don’t like it, move on to the next questions.”

Elain sighed and murmured ‘fine’.

“On three then…One, two, three.”

Loneliness.

Both of them blurted the same word at the same time.

Loneliness. 

Elain stared at him. A little shocked. Azriel only chuckled. 

“Well then…”

He smiled again. 

“I might need more Champagne.”

“I'll ask lighter questions,” she promised quickly, not commenting on their shared fear.

“Please do, before I get black out drunk at Afternoon Tea at the Shard. Do they have whiskey here?”

“Mr. Night, you aren’t drinking whiskey!”

“Not yet. But I might soon. Are you eating your burger?”

“No. You can have it.”

She typed something in her notebook and he meanwhile ate her mini burger in two bites.

“Do you wear pyjamas to bed?” came the next question, and Azriel huffed at it.

“No. I sleep completely naked.”

She cleared her throat and went on,

“Boxers or briefs?”

Azriel grinned and leaned back in his chair, as was his manner when he got comfortable and amused. 

“Well, well…Boxer briefs, Ms. Archeron,” he answered with a wink. “I normally like everything to be tucked in there, and not flop in the wind.”

Elain snorted a laugh.

“You see,” he continued. “The Lord hath endowed me well in that region. There is much to hold in place. It’s like wrestling a python into my poor drawers every morning…”

“Oh, how tragic. It must be very difficult for you,” she mocked.

But Azriel didn’t miss the lovely blush that spread on her cheeks. 

“It is a struggle, but one that I accepted humbly. Wouldn’t be surprised if they could see it all the way in America. Makes our American cousins all kinds of edgy seeing a British cock in all its glory.”

“Oh my god,”

Leaning towards her, he whispered conspiratorially, “don’t tell Cassian. He gets a bit…competitive.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Elain promised.

“Hardly a secret. Anything else you’d like to know, matchmaker? Or see?”

“The most significant of your tattoos?” she hopped over his proposition just like that.

He rubbed his chest, and said, “A Churchill quote: It is the time to dare and endure.”

“Is that something that helps you?”

“Something to keep me grounded when things get tough. I also have this one,” he pointed to his forearm. “Arsenal crest. And a Union Jack on my shoulder.”

The next question was Azriel’s favourite. Elain asked,

“Maradona or Pele?”

“Diego Armando Maradona,” he said at once.

“Do you believe in god?”

“No.”

“Can you change a tyre?”

“Yes.”

“The first thing you look at in a woman?”

“Her gaze. Her look.”

“Have you ever been in love?” she asked quickly, without raising her eyes from the tablet.

“No. Never. Have you?” he asked quickly.

“This isn’t about me,”

“Answer the question,” he ordered.

“No, Mr. Night. I have not been in love. Do you want to marry?”

“Seems like I have to.”

“If you didn’t need to.”

“Marriage changes little, but if the woman wants it, then yes, I would marry.”

“And children? Would you like to have children?”

“Yes. Four.”

She glanced at him and repeated, “Four?”

“Yes. Four.”

“What do you know how to cook?”

“Steak. Only the best eggs you’ve ever eaten. Really good lamb stew. A bacon sandwich. You won’t go hungry with me, pretty matchmaker. Don’t worry.”

“Is this another proposal?”

“Always!” he grinned at her. “Now that you know everything about me, am I making a more appealing candidate?”

“I am sure that you are, for others. I am not looking for a husband, Mr. Night,” she reminded him dryly.

“Why hasn’t the ginger bloke closed the deal?” Azriel started on the pastries, popping one of them in his mouth whole. That solicited a frown from Elain, but he only smiled at her. “What’s he waiting for?”

“Why do you think it’s the man, and not me?”

“You are a fucking matchmaker, princess. Of course you wanna get married. Come on now,” he bubbled his lips. “It’s like saying I am a footballer, but I don’t want to win the Ballon D’Or. Of course I do. Probably no chance of it, but nevertheless, the dream is there.”

“Maybe, hypothetically, I want to get married. But it’s nothing and to no one specific,” she finally relented. 

“Well, that’s a start,” he smiled. “Anything else? What do you want to know? My favourite colour? It’s cobalt blue, by the way. Funny how you wore a skirt in that colour the first time we met. You think it’s a sign?” he winked at her.

“No. I do not.”

“You are so hard to impress,” he complained jokingly. “Tough little cookie. But I’ll break that hard exterior and will get to the soft, gooey inside, the delicious centre.”

“Mr. Night, please remember that ours is a professional relationship. You aren’t breaking me in or whatever it is you just said. It definitely sounded wholly inappropriate. 

“I, however, must ask you more personal questions…Which, honestly, I am dreading,” she added sombrely.

Azriel stretched his very long legs under the table and crossed them at the ankles, before lacing his fingers on his stomach and smiling like an asshole at her. 

“Come on then, pretty matchmaker. Bring it on! I won’t put the moves on you–unless you want me to–and I will behave,”

“Why am I doubting everything you just said?” she whispered with a heavy sight.

“Oh, don’t. Come on, ask away!”

“I preferred you when you were reluctant and a moody arsehole, like you were at our first meeting.”

“Oh, I am still that. Don’t worry. But I am making an effort here and want to make your life a bit easier.”

“How are you in bed, Mr. Night?” she blurted out. “Any specific preferences that a prospective match should know about? Dominant? Submissive? Rough? BDSM? Any fetishes? Any musts? Any hard limits? And how do you feel about fidelity?”

“Well, fuck me that’s a lot of questions! I think I will have that whiskey after all.”

They waited for his whiskey to be delivered and Azriel took a sip, smacking his lips with appreciation.

“You are a bad influence, Ms. Archeron,” he told her. “You make me want to live.”

She looked at him and his declaration with surprise.

“And you don’t live otherwise?”

“I dunno. With you, things seem…easier. Lighter? Like I don't have to worry about my form constantly, or think about the game, or training, or restrict myself. It’s nice, you know. It feels like there is more to the world, and to my life than what I am used to. I can have a drink, and have some pastries, and wear a suit…Not just trainers that sponsor me, or salads and leafy greens and lean protein.”

Elain smiled, “You sound like my sister Nesta. She is a dancer. She is very careful about what she eats,”

“Hence the tofu that makes Pinky sick.”

“Indeed.”

He resumed his position, with his hands on his stomach and then said,

“I am rough. As a lover.”

Elain stopped typing in her IPad and stared at him, clearly not expecting this nugget of info to drop on her lap.

“Rough?” she repeated at last. “As in…violent?”

He chuckled.

“Nah, I ain’t violent, pretty girl.”

“Mr. Night,” she snapped.

“Sorry, sorry. Ms. Archeron–where I come from, fucking is quick, hard, rough and unromantic. There ain’t no flickering candles, soft music, gauzy curtains,”

“I am impressed and a bit alarmed that you just used the word ‘gauzy’,” Elain commented.

“All, I’ve been hitting the dictionary every night. Picking up fancy words to impress you with!”

“You should be impressing your future matches,” she reminded him with a meaningful look, and he nodded in acquiescence. 

“Yeah, I remember. The matches.”

“So, you are rough,” Elain repeated. 

“Listen–on and off for a few years, I didn’t even have a place to sleep when I was a teen. Three months with one family, six weeks with another, four days with another…Stretches of time in between where Cass and me had to fend for ourselves. But you know…needs must and all. My dick was a teenage dick regardless of what my family situation was, so I had to get it where I could.”

Elain listened without commenting, her face expressionless. Azriel wasn’t sure if she was shocked, or repulsed, or judging him. That damn poker face of hers was on point.

“And where could I get it? Against the wall near the chippy, or on a park bench, or in a stairwell. That doesn’t bode well for lengthy sessions of tender lovemaking.

“So I go in pretty rough. I’ll make you come–a lady, I’ll make a lady come–but if she is looking for prim and proper that ain’t me.”

He scrubbed his hand over his face. 

“I ain’t mean, Ms. Archeron. I am an athlete–I am controlled and powerful. Before I took up football, I used to box. There wasn’t much else to do where we lived, and because Cass and I were so big, we joined the local church’s boxing club. It taught me how to control my strength, my physicality, and my size. There ain’t ever been a need to be physically rough with the girl. Why? What’s she gonna do against me, you know?”

“Anything else?”

“All that other stuff you’d mentioned–BDSM, dom and sub–I don’t have any interest in that. I don’t particularly like inflicting pain, especially not on women. But if you’d like me to spank you or tie you up, I’ll tie you up. Whatever you fancy, Ms. Archeron.”

Elain blushed violently and adorably, as she scrambled to pretend to type something.

“So you do like to be spanked?” he grinned at her. He knew that she was fake typing right now.

She squirmed in her chair, and woke up Piglet, when she poked him with her foot. He snorted his disappointment and then emerged from under the table and immediately looked at Azriel with a pleading gaze. 

“I saved you a sandwich,” Azriel chuckled, tearing a piece of the sandwich and feeding it to the pug. “Coronation chicken, no less.”

Piglet began chomping on the sandwich with delight, finding a kindred spirit in Azriel. 

“I am still waiting for an answer, Ms. Archeron,” Azriel teased. “Spanking? Tying up? Are you a dom? Or do you like to submit? And before you tell me that this is not about you, I’d still like to know.”

“Well, this is not about me,” she hissed.

Azriel cocked his head to the side and looked at her with a humoured look in his eyes, asking,

“Are you a virgin?” 

“For god’s sake, Mr. Night! Why are you asking me this?!” she demanded, scandalised.

“No shame in that,” he said lightly. “If you are, I mean. I am not judging.”

“Well, I am not, Mr. Night. I am a grown woman. And not a virgin. Are you the one who is going to be asking questions now?!”

“Yes, now I am kind of into it. What’s your favourite colour?”

“Pink!” she snapped.

“How about favourite food?”

“Sushi!”

“Cold raw fish–yum. But like I said before, no judgement.”

“Feels like judgement,”

“What else can I ask?”

“Nothing!”

“Do you find me handsome?”

“No!” she cried out.

“No? But I am a handsome footballer, what’s wrong with me?”

“Your gigantic ego.”

“Ego just corresponds to other parts of my anatomy,” he shrugged innocently.

“Oh lord. We are quite finished here, Mr. Night. I think we should get the bill.”

“I think I’d like another whiskey,” he argued.

“Well, you’ll be drinking it alone.”

“Naw…Pink is staying here with me. I am feeding him sandwiches and you know he ain’t going anywhere. Sit that pretty plump arse of yours down, Ms. Archeron. We’ll go soon enough.”

She pouted, but her traitorous dog was only proving Azriel correct, as he slurped his water and chewed on the sandwich that Azriel kept feeding him.

“My arse isn’t plump,” she muttered.

He glanced at her and smiled, “I’ll be the judge of that,” he decided. “Hope the ginger bloke appreciates your arse and worships it the way it deserves to be worshipped. It’s a hella nice coupla buns. Sorry and all…but I noticed,”

“No. More. Whiskey.” Elain ordered, wiping her brow. She was going to lose 10 kilos by the time all of this was going to be over. This man needed to be in some special institution. 

“I know what kind of a wife I want!” he suddenly declared, rubbing his hands excitedly.

“Oh you do, do you? Please tell. I am…well, scared, but also intrigued.”

“I want the kind of girl who kisses me at red lights.”

“That’s actually…kind of romantic,” Elain agreed, surprised. He made no sense this man, but he definitely kept her on her toes.

“Yeah, kind of like she can’t even wait to give me a hot and sloppy one. So she waits until we are at a red light and goes for it.”

Meanwhile, Piglet finished his sandwich and ambled towards the massive wall of windows, looking out with great interest. Because he was wearing his Burberry jacket, and now stood in front of a window overlooking the Gherkin, the Tower of London and the Tower Bridge, charmed tourists and other guests began pointing at him and oohing and ahhing with delight, completely awed by the stylish pug.

“They gonna start taking photos of him.” Azriel whispered to Elain, and she smiled, nodding, while she quickly snapped a pic of her own.

“Going on his Insta?” he joked, while the waiter brought another whiskey. Azriel figured that he might not be leaving here any time soon. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in god knows how long. 

“Obviously!” she tapped something quickly on her phone and in the next minute, showed it to him.

It was an amazing photo, considering that she barely even moved to take it–but Piglet looked like he was floating above the city, his expression pensive, his jacket on point, every landmark below him captured with crisp precision. 

Enjoying London Town #puginthesky #whenpugsfly #puglyfe

“How do you even come up with these so quickly?” he shook his head, but then quickly requested, “send it to me. I want to have it. Also, it’s a gorgeous pic!”

“Thank you.”

Elain reached for her bag and then withdrew a folder, which she lay on the table, between the two of them.

“What’s that?”

“Mr. Night, I wanted to mention this before we go further.”

“Sounds ominous,” he huffed.

“Are you currently…sexually active?”

He cocked his brow at her and chuckled, “what a question, Ms. Archeron! Why? Are you interested?”

She ignored the suggestive quip and said, “It’s just that it would be preferential if you maintain a certain amount of abstinence while being matched. You can certainly decide to engage in sexual relations with the match when the two if you are ready, but I would ask you to treat it as you would a normal relationship…”

“I’ve never been in a relationship,” he sipped his whiskey. “So I am no expert. But I think I can manage it.”

“You truly haven’t been in a relationship?”

“No. Not really.”

“And yet you can abstain?” she confirmed.

“Matchmaker,” he sighed, “I am almost 30, I have some self-control. It’s been a while since I’ve lost control over pussy,”

“Mr. Night!”

“Sorry, sexual relations. Listen, I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my youth. Nothing too terrible, but I should’ve done better. Now I am the Captain, and the younger lads look up at me. I want to do right by them, make sure that their careers don’t blow up, that they are careful with their money and the women that they are with. With us–you can get one injury, and it could be career ending. Everything you’ve been counting on, planning on, expecting, working for a decade towards–poof, gone! All because someone made a bad tackle, or you ran wrong, or a ligament snapped. And you are left with nothing, all the contracts and games and endorsements are gone just like that,” he snapped his fingers. “Everyone thinks they’ll be a Ronaldo, or a Messi, or a Zidane, but that’s untrue for most players. 

“So now, I feel a sense of responsibility. Look at me–I am an old fucker,” he laughed. “But it’s true. So yeah, I can abstain. When we travel, I don’t party all that much. After dinner, I usually go back to the hotel and play Candy Crush. Or read dark romances.”

At that, Elain giggled, “you do not read dark romances!” she argued.

“Yeah I fuckin’ do!” he insisted.

“Such a liar!”

“Telling you,”

“Okay, so what are you reading currently?” 

“Shantel Tessier’s ‘Carnage’,” he reported immediately. 

“What?”

“Yeah, it’s super smutty,” was the verdict.

“You do not read Shantel Tessier!” Elain gawked at him adorably, completely taken aback.

“You’d be incorrect. Listen, I had an injury a couple of years ago and was in rehab for two months. I was bored out of my mind. The nurse who was taking care of me got me hooked up on dark romances. I fuckin’ love that shite!” he admitted excitedly. “You ladies write some bloody crazy shit. Never read anything like that written by a man!”

Azriel glanced in Pinky’s direction and smiled widely. The pug was legitimately posing for photos and creating a mini stampede around him. He was even giving over the shoulder looks, not to mention all sorts of side and front poses, knowing exactly what needed to be done to gain the most reaction. 

“Hey mate, you can photograph him, but don’t touch him,” Azriel said protectively, when some guy wanted to pick the dog up. “He doesn’t like anyone but me and my girl touching him. He bites.”

Maybe the truth was stretched a bit, but whatever. It worked, because the bloke stepped back cautiously and didn’t attempt to touch the dog anymore.

‘I am not your girl,” Elain said quietly, crimping the napkin on her lap.

“No. But you could be. Nothing’s stopping you,” he said simply.

With that, Elain pushed the folder towards him and explained,

“Your first match”.

[sectumsempress1]

Good Omens Season 3: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Sectumsempress1, Hag

I am once again going through my Good Omens season 3 predictions bingo and explaining why I think the things I think. Today I want to talk about Metatron's memory meddling, or more specifically why I think Aziraphale is the Archangel Raphael and why I don't think he remembers.

Once again, I know I cannot be the first person to think of this theory. I'm just adding my two cents. Here we go.

I know there is a fairly popular theory that Crowley was Raphael before the fall, but putting aside the fact that it simply wouldn’t work for television to give them a name that similar to Aziraphale, I just disagree with that assessment. I like to think that Crowley was Jophiel before they fell and Aziraphale’s original name was Raphael. 

I think we can answer this theory very quickly by noting that in The Book of Tobit, Raphael disguises himself as a human on earth, acting as a healer and guardian under the name Azariah. I honestly just think that Neil and Terry took the name Raphael and his human name Azariah and landed on Aziraphale. 

Furthermore, Raphael (“God has healed”) is literally the archangel of healing. He is also known as the angel of protection and keeping people safe on their journeys. God gives Raphael a mission in The Book of Enoch, verse 10:10 to:

“Restore the earth, which the [fallen] angels have corrupted; and announce life to it, that I may revive it.”

Aka ‘thwarting evil wiles.’ In The Zohar it’s also stated in Genesis chapter 23 that he: 

“is appointed to heal the earth of its evil and affliction and the maladies of mankind.”

If I were to go over every single instance of Aziraphale fitting the bill for these descriptions I would be here all day, but some I can think of off the top of my head are:

Giving Adam and Eve the flaming sword to assist them on their journey

Healing Anathema’s broken arm and bike

“Actually, I encourage humans to do the actual- [thwarting of evil wiles]”

Fixing that man’s phone in the graveyard in Scotland

Insisting that he wants to heal wee Morag  

Protecting ‘Jim’ 

This stunning scene in the Job memory: 

He is very clearly shown as a healer, protector and guardian of humanity, more so than any other character. 

Raphael is also known as a matchmaker, which is funny when you think about the Nina and Maggie situation but also makes total sense. Aziraphale loves love. Also he blows the trumpet to announce the Day of Judgement, aka the second coming. I guess Metatron needs Raphael back now huh? He even told Aziraphale himself that he is the only one qualified for this job. Aziraphale is Raphael. 

Or… he was.

I believe that Raphael was demoted following the fall, and Gabriel’s story is meant to mirror his. This scene says SO much: 

“You have refused to exercise your celestial authority, and are henceforth removed from office”

I think something similar absolutely could have happened to Raphael. We all saw how immediately drawn Aziraphale was to Crowley in ‘before the beginning,’ and it makes sense that Metatron could have seen that connection as a liability when he fell. He cannot have an Archangel in Heaven who is sympathetic to one of the fallen, it would be a ticking time bomb for another revolution. Aziraphale being sympathetic towards Angel!Crowley before and during the fall would make him question the fall as a concept, and Heaven could not afford that.

“For one Prince of Heaven to be cast into the outer darkness makes a good story, for it to happen twice makes it look like there is some kind of institutional problem.”

I think the first prince of Heaven Metatron is referencing to is Crowley, and I think he had this same mindset of making sure there was no perceived institutional problem during the time of the fall. So I think that is one of the reasons why Raphael wasn’t cast down; it would look bad. I think the other reason is; Metatron wanted him and Crowley separated, even then. Even then there was some glimmer of their potential combined power, the love and danger that could be born by having them both in the same place with neither of them on Heaven’s side. The most logical option would be to cast Crowley out and make Aziraphale think he deserved it. Because Metatron is smart. He knew that keeping an angel like Crowley in Heaven—an angel who unapologetically asked questions and wasn’t afraid to go against the status quo, even before he fell—could only end badly. The smart move was to keep an angel like Aziraphale on—an angel who wants to believe, who needs to believe, that heaven is fundamentally right and good—and feed into his faith by manipulating his fear. 

(Editing to add- it’s presented as an either or. We will not send you to hell, we will wipe your memory and demote you. We will do A or B. This is why I think Gabriel’s story mirrors Aziraphale’s more than Crowley’s, because being cast down to hell and having your memory wiped was never on the table here. It’s either or.)

“Although as a kindness, your memory of your time as Gabriel will be erased. You will be demoted.”

“As a kindness, your memory of your time as Raphael will be erased. You won’t remember the Starmaker, you won’t remember the fall, you won’t remember the injustice. All you will remember is the war, the divine plan, God’s will and your undying faith to carry out that will. You will remember what not doing so costs, but you will never remember why. All you’ll remember is that you had better not ask, because look where that got the others. Oh, and you will be demoted to earth. You will not remember the incredible power you wield as an Archangel. Because if you hand power like that to someone with a powder keg of repressed questions it may spark an explosion, and we cannot afford that. Not again, Aziraphale.”

Now I want to talk about two specific scenes that relate heavily to this theory.

Before The Beginning

I think this memory has been altered, and there are two ways of looking at it.

Aziraphale remembers it just as shown on screen. 

But in Eden he genuinely seems as though he is meeting Crowley for the first time, and then when he introduces himself as ‘Crawley,’ Aziraphale consistently messes up and calls him that even after he changes it to Crowley. So I can deduce from that that if Aziraphale had known Crowley by another name for millennia before Eden he would very much struggle with remembering to call him Crawley to begin with. The fact that he doesn’t struggle at all makes me think that it truly is his first time learning this person's name, his first time meeting them.

Aziraphale does not remember this moment, it’s only shown to the audience for a season 3 payoff. 

But during the confession, Aziraphale says “like the old times, only even nicer.” re: Crowley becoming an angel again, which implies that Aziraphale remembers ‘the old times’ with him. He also says “I know the angel you were” during the Job scene. 

We are at a bit of a dead end here… or are we? A possible solution is that Aziraphale does remember ‘before the beginning,’ but that memory has been altered to remove Crowley’s involvement, à la Frozen (“I recommend we remove all magic, even memories of magic, to be safe… but don’t worry, I’ll leave the fun.”) The ‘magic’ in this instance being anything that would paint Crowley in a sympathetic light and the ‘fun’ being the actual events that transpired. That would also explain why he remembers it the way he does, aka why Crowley’s angel name is omitted and why he introduces himself as Aziraphale and not Raphael, but he still recalls the actual string of events. Because Aziraphale can’t just have large gaps in his memory. He has to actually remember the cold hard facts. Metatron is far too refined of a villain to leave holes in his soldiers’ minds, especially giant star-shaped love holes. Where was I going with this? Okay anyway…

So when Aziraphale says “like the old times, even nicer” he is not specifically referencing the Starmaker scene, but instead a more general ‘memory’ of Heavenly life, which makes total sense considering Aziraphale’s apparent blindness to the true detailed atrocities of Heaven. All he sees is the big picture anyway, that’s all he’s ever seen. Because… ‘even nicer’ ??? What do you mean NICER? A bureaucratic job will be nicer than watching the being you love build a universe?? Okay. 

Same goes for “I know the angel you were” from the Job scene. The wording is important here. He didn’t say “I knew the angel you were” or “I knew you in heaven.” It feels like he is a step away from saying “I know of the angel you were.” Which, in the context, makes sense. He is trying to use a personal plea as a last-ditch attempt to get Crowley to do what he thinks is right, he is not reminiscing on their time as besties. He’s already cycled through:

“You don’t have to do this!”

“You have free will!”

“I don’t think God wants this!”

“I don’t really think you want to either!”

And when Crowley asks “what do you know about what I want?” in that bitter tone, Aziraphale reads it as an in. He thinks a personal plea may be the thing to get Crowley to stop, so he uses it. It’s a tactic.

With all that in mind, I believe ‘before the beginning’ to be an altered memory. I believe that Aziraphale remembers the creation of the universe in general terms but does not remember the Starmaker or the feelings that were already beginning to take root inside of him. 

In The Beginning

I believe this to be an authentic memory, and if you look hard enough (aka are delusional and also insane) there are clues to support my ‘Aziraphale doesn’t remember' theory, starting with their first meeting.

Aziraphale does a few confused double takes (which, sure, could be interpreted as ‘oh fuck it’s you’ but I am choosing to not see it like that :)) and then politely smiles and laughs at what Crowley says before asking for clarification. This is absolutely giving ‘awkward first meeting with a stranger’ energy and not ‘oh fuck it’s my old bestie who is now damned.’ This is not a face of recognition, even fearful or reluctant recognition:

This is very much just giving ‘who the hell is this?’ Especially because it is then followed up with:

Aziraphale flat-out does not know who that is. He even closes his eyes for a second in what looks like confusion, as if he’s trying to remember. As if he’s trying to look where the furniture isn’t. And if I think he’s confusedly pursing his lips for a millisecond as if he wants to say a J name that’s my damn business.

They look sorrowful. I don’t know how I didn’t catch it the first few times I watched the show. This is the face of someone who just slithered up to an old friend and started having a chat as if it was the most natural thing in the world only for that friend to have no idea who they are anymore. Even as their face moves into a smile, it’s not real.

Babygirl looks like he’s experiencing the most haunting, ancient melancholia behind those lovely snake eyes. It’s actually quite striking. David Tennent you are on my hit list.

Anyway Crowley then goes on to question the ineffable plan in a way that’s very reminiscent of ‘before the beginning,’ which I believe to be intentional because they remember, and Aziraphale doesn’t. So Crowley is thinking to himself that maybe Aziraphale’s memory could be jogged with familiar behaviour. 

Crowley also goes on about the flaming sword, which I believe used to be theirs when they were the angel Jophiel, so the emphasis on it makes sense. 

They really said “what the fuck did you do with my sword?” But then when Aziraphale says he gave it away we get the most genuine display of emotion from Crowley that he’s shown during this entire sequence. 

He is impressed. He is remembering the angel who refused to exercise their celestial authority and got his memories stolen as a result. They are thinking there may still be hope after all.

Okay now let’s briefly talk about why I think Crowley does remember. I feel like this is a pretty easy one to get through as there are plenty of moments where Crowley references heaven and the fall in a very clear way, some of which I will drop right here:

All well and good, but one big question still remains: if Crowley knows, why the fuck did he not tell Aziraphale in six thousand years?

Well… why did Elsa not tell Anna about her powers? I know this analogy is a little silly and trust me I’m losing my mind right now, but hear me out. Elsa doesn’t tell Anna about her powers because she thinks it's in her best interest not to know. She thinks that knowing will put Anna at risk and that she will be to blame for that risk. Now look back on Crowley and Aziraphale’s history, terrible communication aside, they don’t tell each other things because they both think that they can handle it on their own and they both don’t want the other to be in danger. They both consistently hide important and dangerous things from one another. For example:

Crowley didn’t tell Aziraphale about the Hell Hound for 11 years

Neither of them realised that both of their team of human agents were Shadwell’s men

Crowley didn’t tell Aziraphale the details of his execution

Aziraphale didn’t tell Crowley that he met Shax on the way home from Scotland

Crowley didn’t tell Aziraphale that he got dragged to hell and offered a promotion from Beelzebub

Crowley didn’t tell Aziraphale about The Book of Life threat 

You get the point. It’s a pattern. And the details of the fall, stories from their distant past… these are lethal pieces of information. And we have to remember that both of them are essentially under constant surveillance. They never know when they’re truly alone or not, as we can also see with how much they side-step and rationalise their relationship away. They are both constantly terrified. Why would Crowley share information like this when they know how the acquisition of knowledge ended for the last group of angels? After all, Aziraphale wouldn’t like it in Hell.

Now there is also another very plausible explanation: Crowley is simply assuming that Aziraphale already does know and is following his perceived unspoken lead to never discuss it. Which again makes sense considering how fragile every aspect of their relationship is. It’s largely unspoken with a shared handbook of unspoken rules that they use to maintain the little bubble of companionship that they’re permitted to have. They have presumably never had a real conversation. So when would this ever realistically come up?

In conclusion, I need a lobotomy. But I want this to be true so badly as it does genuinely make sense in my sadly un-lobotomised little brain. As always, Neil Gaiman, I am in your walls. 

[inevitably-johnlocked]

I have no idea if you're still answering anything despite your hiatus and constant uploads, but could you recommend any fics that include drinking games, or just getting to know each other hang outs with the squad (not just John and Sherlock)? I love the friendships!

Hey Lovely!

Ah, I'm done my 2 week hiatus, and even then I was, as you said, still fairly active LOL. I just needed a break from feeling obligated to get new lists out right away, is all! :)

I do have a few lists you might enjoy:

Games

Games Pt. 2

Drunk and Drinking Johnlock

Drunk and Drinking Johnlock Pt 2

Those are pretty broad lists, so here's the exact fics from them you may prefer. If Anyone has any they want to suggest, as always, please do!

DRINKING GAMES / HANGING OUT

Never Have I Ever by Hannelore-Grace(T, 2,073 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Drinking Games) – In which the Yarders, Sherlock, and John play the time-honored drinking game.

Bored Games by patster223(K+, 2,769 w., 1 Ch. || Cluedo / Board Games, Friendship, Humour) – Sherlock is bored and John decides that they should play Cluedo. In retrospect, it was a truly awful decision.

Paranoia by Ewebie(M, 3,789 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Drinking Games, Scotland Yard Gang, Jealous / Possessive Sherlock, Inappropriate Questions, Embarrassed John, Matchmakers) – John and Sherlock join the gang of Scotland Yard for a night of drinking, and it gets a bit personal and revealing.

Right Foot Red by Irrevocably_Sherlocked(E, 3,089 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss/Time, Board Games, Frottage, Masturbation, PWP, Friends to Lovers, Come as Lube, Come Marking) – ...ok, it’s juvenile, but at least it’s a game where touching is allowed. And if something more were to happen, well, John can’t say he’d be too upset about that. “What are the rules of this game?” Sherlock asks, the disdain evident on the word ‘game’. “I spin, you do as I say.” John thinks he sees a slight widening of those pale grey eyes at that, just for a fraction of a second, before it is shut down. Oh, this is interesting, he thinks.

The Hand You're Dealt by MapleleafCameo(M, 9,806 w., 6 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Card Games, Alternate First Meeting, No Slash / Platonic Relationship) – John wouldn't have minded so much if only Sherlock would stop introducing him as 'John Watson. I won him in a poker game.’

The Hand You're Dealt by MapleleafCameo(M, 10,624 w., 6 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Card Games, Alternate First Meeting, No Slash / Platonic Relationship) – John wouldn't have minded so much if only Sherlock would stop introducing him as 'John Watson. I won him in a poker game.’

Never Have I Ever by hudders-and-hiddles(E, 10,655 w., 1 Ch. || Pining Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Drinking Games, Love Confessions, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers) – John and Sherlock tag along for the Met's weekly night out, where the evening's chosen drinking game is Never Have I Ever. Sherlock is reluctant to join in until he realizes he can learn all kinds of new things about John, but he forgets that John might learn a thing or two about him as well.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror(E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

MARKED FOR LATER

Sherlock Learns How To Play Strip Poker (and loses badly)  by wendymarlowe (E, 5,127 w., 3 Ch. || Strip Games, Strip Poker, Blindfolds, First Time) – Sherlock has deleted the rules to poker, so he demands John teach him. Strip poker, because why not. And blindfolded, because John refuses to play without Sherlock having a handicap to counteract his giant brain. The fact that John can now ogle Sherlock's increasingly-nude body is just a bonus, of course. Part 33 of John and Sherlock's Kinky First Times

In a manner of speaking I'm dead by fellshish (T, 6,372 w., 1 Ch. || Halloween, Mystrade, Angst With Happy Ending, PIning, First Kiss, Drunk Idiots, Drinking Games, Humour) – Sherlock and John accidentally dress in matching outfits for Lestrade's Halloween party. Things only get worse: someone pushes them to play 'Never have I ever'.

Spin The Bottle by helloliriels (M, 8,120 w., 6 Ch. || Drinking Games, Calls/Phones, Strip Games, Truth or Dare) – Have you ever played this game before, Sherlock?

The Mole by ChrisCalledMeSweetie (T, 18,378 w., 8 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Reality TV AU ||  Mystery, Adventure, Games, First Kiss/Time, Humour, Romance) – Ten strangers — Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Martha Hudson, Molly Hooper, Jim Moriarty, Greg Lestrade, Sally Donovan, Philip Anderson, Mary Morstan, and Irene Adler — must work as a team to win money on a reality TV show hosted by Mycroft Holmes. The twist? One of them is a mole, hired by the producers to sabotage the game.

The Last Drop by Phyona (M, 20,185 w. || Pre-Slash, UST, Drinking & Talking, Drinking Games, Spooning, Witty Banter, Intense Conversations) – Sherlock and John fend off boredom with a night of heavy drinking. Part 1 of the The First and Last Trilogy series

[nitrateglow]

Spooky Season 2024: 32-36

Frenzy (dir. Alfred Hitchcock, 1972)

Hitchcock's penultimate film involves Scotland Yard's search for a sex-killer known as the Necktie Murderer. When a divorced matchmaking agency director named Brenda is the next victim, evidence points to her ex-husband Richard, a down-on-his-luck barman who just lost his job. In reality, the killer is fruit-seller Bob Rusk, an amiable sociopath who uses the circumstantial evidence against Richard to his advantage.

Frenzy is Hitchcock's nastiest film. The tone is as bleak and nihilistic as his work ever got, and the violence-- now unencumbered by censorship demands-- remains brutal, even by modern standards. The more I see it, the more impressed I am with the film, particularly its strong sense of time and place. The film captures London in the early '70s, giving it a time capsule quality. The minor characters are all vividly written and performed, coming off as real people and giving the setting even more of a lived-in feel.

Subspecies (dir. Ted Nicolaou, 1991)

Michelle is one of a trio of female college students going to Romania to study the local folklore. Unfortunately, her friends become vampire chow for Radu, a vampire with Nosferatu fingers and sloppy dinner etiquette. And he's got his sights set on her next...

Subspecies is the first in a series of direct to video movies about Radu, a truly delightful villain who toes the line between menacing and camp silliness. To be honest, these films aren't that great, but they're really fun, especially if you watch them with friends.

The Red Queen Kills Seven Times (dir. Emilio Miraglia, 1972)

Sisters Kitty and Evelyn despise one another. Their grandfather, fearing a family curse which says one sister will murder the other, leading to the killed sibling resurrecting then going on a killing spree, tries to prevent them from hating one another more. Unfortunately, a cat fight between the two women ends with Evelyn's accidental death and Kitty's hiding the corpse with the aid of a cousin. However, some time later, a red-cloaked figure with Evelyn's features starts murdering people in Kitty's social circle. Is the supernatural at work or is this the result of a more mortal plot?

The Red Queen Kills Seven Times mashes up traditional giallo tropes with what feels like an old dark house 1920s murder mystery. I picked this as one of my favorite new-to-me movies last year and it held up on rewatch. It's stylish and spooky, and has a phenomenal soundtrack.

The Birds (dir. Alfred Hitchcock, 1963)

When playgirl Melanie Daniels comes to the quiet California town of Bodega Bay, she expects to engage in flirtatious games with local catch Mitch. Instead, she shows up just in time for the bird population to start pecking out the eyes of every human in sight.

What can I say about The Birds? It's a true classic, less a sclocky disaster movie than a character piece about a variety of grieved, fearful characters. I love it more and more every time I watch it.

Kuroneko (dir. Kaneto Shindo, 1968)

After a pair of peasant women are raped and murdered by samurai, they return from the dead as vengeful ghosts sworn to kill the class of men who brought about their deaths. However, they are given pause when a particular young samurai comes along-- a former farmer who happens to be the younger woman's husband and the older woman's son. Can they kill him or will their lingering human emotions win out?

Kuroneko is one of the best ghost movies of all time. It is both heartbreaking and chilling, with interesting moral dilemmas for both the living and dead characters. The visuals are absolutely sublime, with deep shadows and characters emerging from the darkness in striking ways. Honestly, I do not want to spoil it-- it's incredibly good.

[bridgertonbabe]

So just like how Queen Charlotte is frustrated with her children for being a bunch of whores and virgins, imagine an AU where Violet Bridgerton finds herself at the end of the her tether with her children for whoring themselves out with absolutely none of them having any intentions on settling down. What’s even more frustrating is that she knows each of her children are being devout whores to a respective sole lover; what she doesn’t understand is why none of them seem capable of marrying the lovers they’re clearly so enraptured with and provide her with the grandbabies she is ever so desperate for. 

Eventually she becomes so sick of all eight of her children refusing to provide her with the sons-and-daughters-in-law and grandchildren that she ardently covets that she decides to take matters into her own hands. She recruits the likes of Lady Danbury, Mary Sharma, and Helen and Janet Stirling to help with her schemes, as well as reaching out to her eligible Rokesby nieces and nephews to see if any of them would be interested in playing a little game where they get to show amorous interest in certain members of the Ton which will then in turn terribly vex their cousins. Once everything is carefully arranged she puts all eight strategic plans into action; and then all she has to do is kick back and wait.

Due to the marvellously perfect execution of her scheming, the wait doesn’t last long at all as shortly thereafter her eight children come storming into the drawing room wearing identical faces of thunder.

“Mother; why did you encourage the Bagwells, including Mrs Bagwell’s mother and sister in their decision to move back to India?!” 

“Why would you tell Lady Cowper that the Duke of Hastings had declared his intentions to make Cressida his wife?!”

“And why would you write to Sir Phillip and invite him to Aubrey Hall to introduce him to Daphne?!” 

“Why did you give my mother-in-law Cousin Elizabeth’s name as a potential bride for the earl to marry?!”

“What were you thinking when you decided to introduce Cousin Roger to Penelope and encourage their courtship?!”

“Why would you suggest Lord Haselby and his future wife take a lengthy honeymoon around the continent?!”

“What business is it of yours to work with Lady Danbury and play matchmaker with her grandson and Felicity?!” And then, after being elbowed by her older brother, Hyacinth followed up with; “And how could you send Sophie off to Scotland as Lady Stirling’s new lady’s maid without telling me?!”

Violet surveyed the eight aggrieved red faces of her offspring and calmly continued her embroidery, all the while refraining from smirking victoriously. 

“Hm. I don’t quite see why any of these developments should greatly upset any one of you.” she hummed. “Perhaps you are all in need of being occupied to keep you distracted from the lives of others that surely have no bearing on your own. Why don’t I start drawing up lists of potential husbands and wives for you all to consider, hm?” 

She lifted a brow at her gathered children, all of who seemed fit to burst from sheer agitation as they glared back at her. 

“Of course, I’ve already made a start on your behalf, Daphne. Sir Phillip will make for an ideal husband-”

“NO; HE’S MINE!” Eloise exploded.

And just like that, the rest of them fell like dominoes straight after - and within weeks a very smug Violet Bridgerton had astounded the Ton by successfully marrying off all eight of her children. 

[scotianostra]

Happy Birthday David O'Hara born in Glasgow July 9, 1965 to Patrick and Martha O'Hara.

After leaving school he was accepted for a Youth Opportunities Programme, at a community theatre, based at the Glasgow Arts Centre he left Scotland to pursue the craft at the age of 17, studying at London's Central School of Speech and Drama. The dark-haired actor made his feature debut in a small part in Bill Forsyth's Comfort and Joy and played a Scottish boy in The Monocled Mutineer, his first effort for the small screen.

Among David's stage performances, he portrayed Tybalt in a 1986 open air production of Romeo and Juliet and three years later took his turn in the play's more challenging role of Mercutio. His big break came as Stephen, the rampaging Irishman who joins forces with William Wallace (Mel Gibson), in Braveheart . Two years later, he was co-starring opposite Helen Mirren as a slightly independent policeman in Granada Television's Prime Suspect V: Errors in Judgment which aired on PBS' Masterpiece Theatre. That same year David was very busy appearing in Alan J. Pakula's The Devil's Own; he was the romantic foil to Janeane Garofalo in The Matchmaker; he portrayed a biker in the Scottish film The Slab Boys and finally, he also portrayed Bill Sykes in the Disney adaptation of Oliver Twist.

Other appearances on the big screen include Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, The Departed and Cowboys & Aliens and The Madman and The Professor, where he again appeared alogside Gibson, his TV shows, The Tudors, Luther, Criminal Minds and Gotham

Last year David appeared in the movie, The Sparrow, he is lined up to star in a new film, An Enemy Within, which should be released later this year.

[redundant2]

Random British Royal tidbits

I'm reading "The Vanity Fair Diaries" by Tina Brown and came across this tidbit:

Monday May 26, 1986

"We had lunch with the preposterous Princess Michael of Kent, who looked about fifteen hands high in an orange silk wrap dress. She has developed a mad, false laugh and a new Lady Bracknell voice for dealing with inferiors. "Row-eena," she gushed at the cowed debutante she totes around as her "lady in waiting." "where is the Dom Perignon? It was sitting outside but those fooooools have taken it away! Find it!" (Mad false laugh.) "Isn't the service quite diabolical? Do shut the kitchen door, Rowena. I hate to stare into a kitchen!"

From The Vanity Fair Diaries by Tina Brown, p. 199

Princess Michael of Kent, nee' Baroness Marie-Christine Anna Agnes Hedwig Ida von Reibnitz, would have been 41 at the time of this lunch. She was born in the German-occupied Sudetenland in what is now the Czech Republic. Her father, Baron Günther Hubertus von Reibnitz, was a descendant of the ancient Reibnitz family, Silesian landowners, who trace their ancestry back to 1288. He was a Nazi party member and a SS calvary officer during WWII.

Princess Michael's mother was Countess Maria Anna Carolina Franziska Walburga Bernadette Szapary von Muraszombath, Szechysziget und Szapar.  The House of Szapáry is an old and important Hungarian noble family. Members of this family held the title of Imperial Count granted to them on 28 December 1722 by Charles VI, Holy Roman Emperor.

Princess Michael's parents divorced n 1948 and she with her mother and eldest brother moved to Rose Bay, Australia. In the early 1960s, she lived with her father on his farm in Mozambique.  She then went from Vienna to London to study History of Fine and Decorative Art at the Victoria and Albert Museum.  

She first married an English banker in 1971, but divorced in 1977. Once month after her marriage was annulled by the Pope, she married Prince Michael of Kent, Queen Elizabeth II's first cousin. She has said that Lord Mountbatten played matchmaker.

The lady-in-waiting mentioned in the excerpt is The Hon. Rowena Hawke Leatham Sanders, daughter of the 9th Baron Hawke of Towton.

The Baron of Towton peerage title was created on 20 May 1776 for the admiral Sir Edward Hawke (of Scarthingwell Hall in the parish of Towton), responsible for a blockade of all French merchant shipping and the grounding of six French ships, and scattering of the rest, at the Battle of Quiberon Bay.  

Rowena Hawke's sister, Annabel, pictured above.

Rowena's father, Bladen Wilmer Hawke, 9th Baron of Towton, above. He served as a Lord-in-waiting (government whip in the House of Lords from 1953 to 1957 in the Conservative administrations of Churchill, Eden and MacMillan.  

Another of Rowena's sisters, Lavinia, married Nicholas MacLean-Bristol. She became a Justice of the Peace and lives in 15th century Old Breachacha Castle on the Isle of Coll in Scotland. This tower fortress was the stronghold of the MacLean clan. The Isle of Coll was granted to the MacLeans in 1431. There is also a new "castle" on this island, built in 1750, which is available to rent for just £1500 for a party of two for one week.

Rowena lives at Hankerton Priory, Malmesbury, Wiltshire, and borrowed a page from her sister's notebook, as her home is also available as an Air BNB rental - hosted by Rowena! Perhaps she will tell you stories about her days with Princess Michael if you stay with her?

https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/2777181?source_impression_id=p3_1676477115_Gba9bnmOeznlt0af

[the-book-queen]

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[revolant]

The trouble with dukes continues to be a great time, thus far there has been

- a heist where our Scottish war hero steals the lady’s letters back from her Accursed English Suitor (who was also a coward during The War!)

- Megan, the woman whose letters had to be stolen back, decided that if the Scottish war hero (Hamish) wouldn’t compromise her, she’’d compromise him, and they got caught making out by her duke uncle who loves his wife more than anything and wants to matchmaker all his nieces and nephews.

- though Megan’s family agrees NOT to duel Hamish, and welcome him to court her instead of the boring evil guy, he won’t do it and insists he has to go to Scotland (he is afraid his ptsd symptoms will lead to him hurting her) (and also he’s afraid his new duties as a duke and the fact that he hates london’s rules and strictures will make him a bad husband. Instead of what he actually is which is hot as fuck)

[nebris]

Lughnasadh, Lughnasa or Lúnasa (/ˈluːnəsə/ LOO-nə-sə, Irish: [ˈl̪ˠuːnˠəsˠə]) is an Gaelic festival marking the beginning of the harvest season, and an official holiday in Ireland. Historically, it was widely observed throughout Ireland, Scotland and the Isle of Man. In Modern Irish it is called Lúnasa, in Scottish Gaelic: Lùnastal, and in Manx: Luanistyn. Traditionally it is held on 1 August, or about halfway between the summer solstice and autumn equinox. In recent centuries some of the celebrations have been shifted to the Sunday nearest this date.

Lughnasadh is one of the four Gaelic seasonal festivals, along with Samhain, Imbolc and Beltane. It corresponds to other European harvest festivals such as the Welsh Gŵyl Awst and the English Lammas. Lughnasadh is mentioned in some of the earliest Irish literature and has pagan origins. The festival itself is named after the god Lugh.

It inspired great gatherings that included religious ceremonies, ritual athletic contests (most notably the Tailteann Games), feasting, matchmaking, and trading. Lughnasadh occurred during a very poor time of the year for the farming community when the old crops were done and the new ones not yet ready for harvest.[1] Traditionally there were also visits to holy wells. According to folklorist Máire MacNeill, evidence shows that the religious rites included an offering of the First Fruits, a feast of the new food and of bilberries, the sacrifice of a bull, and a ritual dance-play in which Lugh seizes the harvest for mankind and defeats the powers of blight. Many of the activities would have taken place on top of hills and mountains.

Lughnasadh customs persisted widely until the 20th century, with the event being variously named 'Garland Sunday', 'Bilberry Sunday', 'Mountain Sunday' and 'Crom Dubh Sunday'. The custom of climbing hills and mountains at Lughnasadh has survived in some areas, although it has been re-cast as a Christian pilgrimage. The best known is the 'Reek Sunday' pilgrimage to the top of Croagh Patrick on the last Sunday in July. A number of fairs are also believed to be survivals of Lughnasadh, for example, the Puck Fair.

Since the late 20th century, Celtic neopagans have observed Lughnasadh, or something based on it, as a religious holiday. In some places, elements of the festival have been revived as a cultural event.