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oumaheroes · 3 years ago

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hii its bougie <3 if you're still taking hc requests, i was wondering if you'd have thoughts on something that's been on my mind for a while. i was interested in the nuance to english culture due to regional differences. eg.,dinner being called "tea" in the north of england, rugby being more popular in the south, the difference in how scones with jam and cream are enjoyed in Devon and Cornwall?? or how certain english accents are perceived as... "less attractive" i guess (the black country accents are unpopular apparently?) -- you'd probably know more about these particularities than me ;u;

i was wondering how these cultural differences might map onto hws England's character, and how they might influence his attitudes and behaviours. because there's such a clearly defined stereotype of the english that i think shape people's expectations of what the english are like, i usually think that Arthur usually consciously acts according to what counts as positive interpretations of himself. however, i love nuanced and somewhat subversive interpretations of his character, and am very curious if you might have any ideas on how these kind of internal regional differences might shape him.

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Bougieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee <3

I’m not gonna lie this sent me down a RABBIT HOLE of thoughts, so hang on tight cos we're gonna get messy.

Accents:

Let’s start with my personal favourite, so excuse me whilst I geek out for a second. I’ve gone into this area already in this headcanon, but I personally see England being a very proud little dragon regarding English accents, those both native and non-native to the British Isles. Focusing just on accents within England for this post, the way Arthur himself sees them, (regarding class and general preference), comes a lot down to how I see him feeling about language and the unification of England in general.

England is a tiny country. It’s really teeny, compared to some, and yet holds an incredible number of regional accents and dialects (from digging about the internet for a good source, I keep finding numbers ranging from 37 to 43). There are a number of reasons for this, but the one that I love the most is that accents are influenced by the previous/ influential other languages spoken in a given area. Accents on the East of England are more influenced by Viking invaders, both phonologically and via the dialectal words used, and accents/ dialects in the West are more influenced by Welsh, for example.

Accents and dialects tell the history of a place, all who ever came there and influenced it to some degree. The map of English accents is a patchwork quilt of old cultures and people now lost to time, but their ways of speaking have been preserved in the modern tongue. The old English kingdoms might now be mere counties- Kent, Essex, Sussex, East Anglia, etc- they may not have their own influence or language these days as they used to, but their old ways have been imprinted on their people of today whether they know it or not and they carry pieces of the past in their words and how they speak them. Older speakers of the Northern English dialects liek the Yorkshire dialect still use ‘thou/thee’ where this has fallen out in other areas, the Midlands and parts of the South-East still keep the ‘-n’ ending for possessive pronouns (‘yourn’ instead of ‘yours’, ‘ourn’ instead of ‘ours’), and there’s even some linguistic research into how Brittonic, the ancestor of Modern Welsh, influenced English structure and phonology (for references, see notes at the end).

Back to England the person (to contain myself slightly), his regional accents are a story of himself, his history being kept alive in all of its variety every day. He doesn’t hold a classist view of a ‘good’ or ‘bad’ accent because he knows why they’re all there- what languages and people influenced them and how these events affected him- the older generations now lost and forgotten being kept alive in the smallest of phonemes.

Every dialect, every accent, and every language tells the story of a people, from the smallest phonological marker right up to a language as a whole and England takes comfort and pride in his dialects and accents’ longevity and variety. He is as much of the North as he is the South, as much of the East as the West and a patchwork man born of patchwork cultures it makes no sense for him to favour one particular accent over another.

That being said, he is aware that there is a common cultural stance on accents as well as an opinion regarding ��ugly’ ones, ‘common’ ones, and ‘classy’ ones, but he himself doesn’t partake in these ideas. I like to think that a nation takes on the speech of the people and the area they’re in, matching the person they speak to or the area they visit to relate to their people. So, for me a Chav Arthur exists as much as a Brummie one does, or a Scouser, or a Geordie, or a Cockney. They’re all English, and thus they’re all a part of him.

Class

I have to include this one, if only to touch on it lightly regarding accents and dialects. Class does influence which words you speak, arguably just as much as which accent (this is known as a sociolect). Although I said that England adopts the accent of whatever area he’s in, or whomever he’s talking to if they’re English, the class people are will also affect which words he choses to use.

Here’s a short example from here:

'It is pudding for the upper class. Dessert is sometimes used by upper middles, but afters and sweets very clearly put you below stairs.'

Have some more!

Upper class: Spectacles, Lavatory or loo, Die, Napkin, Sofa

Middle class: Glasses, Toilet , Pass on, Serviette, Settee or couch

(Working class is a mix but harder to find sources for).

This is where England treads a fine line. It could be that he again adopts more of a class lexicon regarding who he is speaking to, matching his people word for word. However, England is not unaware of the affects of class, regardless of how he himself feels, and also although class snobbery and divide frustrate him, he cannot deny using this understanding to benefit himself, which also conforms to how his own people behave. (I myself have, many times, diluted and filtered my speech to be seen as ‘better’).

Want to be seen as more reliable and powerful? Want to be taken more seriously? RP and Estuary English (a lot more so these days), hold undeniable sway and England is not above adopting a manner of speaking to come across ‘better’ or more polite, or a more ‘common’ accent to fit in with the working classes. I think of England as leaning more towards a working-class mindset- he’s very hands on, very up for and used to manual labour and this particular English class has always made up the bulk of his population. It makes no sense for a nation, who represents all of their people, to have a snide view or a preference for a particular group and England as a person I see is someone who does not enjoy the foppery and false airs of aristocracy.

That being said, England is an intelligent man. He knows how to work a room and use a crowd to his advantage, knows what must be done and what he needs to do to achieve a goal and if this entails courting the upper classes for a time then he will do so. He’s adepts at switching himself like a chameleon, blending his behaviours, accent, and dialect to match who he’s talking to to achieve a goal or to fit in with someone’s perception of him, or to gain influence or prestige. He also doesn’t hate his upper classes- they are of him too, and the middle and working class have their own prejudices and ideas against the others. But he doesn’t adopt a stereotypical distain of lower classes because to him, it really doesn’t make much sense.

Abroad, this need to cultivate a particular perception defiantly comes under greater pressure. RP and Estuary English are more well know, more heard and taught, and more recognisably ‘British’, and so these are what he uses when speaking English to other nations or foreigners, either wanting to uphold an image of himself (more so in the Victorian/ Edwardian period than nowadays) or just for the ease of being understood.

Regional Differences

Okay, this one is a lot more fun. Does England put in his milk first or last when making tea? Does he put jam first, or clotted cream when having a scone? Does he have chips with gravy, or curry sauce? Does he have dinner at 6, or 9? To marmite, or not to marmite.

Ah, that is the question, and England does not know the answer. Does he do what he does because that’s what he likes, or because that’s what his people do? He didn’t grow up with these habits, after all, they’re all relatively recent in his lifetime, and so these habits are defiantly things he cultures for a particular audience.

I’m not really sure if the above preferences are class based, (well, milk first when making tea is argued to be, but I can't find any sources I'd consider entirely credible. I put the ones I did find in the notes below, in case any one's interested), so it’s hard to get a sense of which one to use. Overall, it doesn’t matter which you do and neither is right or wrong, but the English feel strongly about them, one way or another, and often Arthur the man isn’t sure at all which one he himself actually thinks is better.

Food in another sense though is something he can be surer of. A Cornish pastie not from Cornwall is not worth eating, nor is a Bakewell tart outside of Bakewell. England can be very particular about this sort of thing and enjoys maintaining and supporting the ‘original’ flavour or recipe of a thing where he can, considering this to be the ‘best’. Sally Lunn Buns from Bath, Gypsy tarts from Kent, Eccles Cakes from Eccles.

England wants to preserve his food and culture and has what could be considered a snobbish view on the ‘best’ way of creating or eating his national foods. Some things he is more lenient with: he will eat cheddar cheese, whether or not it is from Cheddar, same from Cumberland sausages not from Cumbria. But he certainly has a preference and he is not afraid to voice this when asked for his opinion.

Okay, we're done

Phew! This had me digging out my old linguistic student brain. To anyone who has made it this far down, gosh golly miss molly thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the ride, and especially @prickyy who was kind enough to want to hear my opinions about all of this <3

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Notes:

Brittonic influence on English:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brittonicisms_in_English

https://scholar.google.co.uk/scholar_url?url=http://journals.mountaintopuniversity.edu.ng/English%2520Language/Celtic%2520Influences%2520in%2520English%2520A%2520Re-evaluation.pdf&hl=en&sa=X&ei=2ohDYdq3BoWImwHn6oWQAg&scisig=AAGBfm29zTF0FBCpd1KqDiAbjM-0X7nfoA&oi=scholarr (PDF)

https://scholar.google.co.uk/scholar_url?url=http://www.oppi.uef.fi/wanda/unicont/abstracts/14ICEHL_MF.pdf&hl=en&sa=X&ei=2ohDYdq3BoWImwHn6oWQAg&scisig=AAGBfm3UvOXbJEb0b51J73eBnTJvgGaQOA&oi=scholarr (PDF)

Sociolects and class distinction within language in English:

https://languageawarenessbyrosalie.weebly.com/social-dialects.html

https://www.grin.com/document/313937

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/U_and_non-U_English

Milk in tea first and the potential class reason:

https://www.theteaclub.com/blog/milk-in-tea/

https://qmhistoryoftea.wordpress.com/2017/05/11/milk-in-first-a-miffy-question/

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reflectionsofneptune · 4 years ago

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little things about the saturn signs

little dreamy, abstract things about the Saturn signs in Astrology.

Aries Saturn

― Skin stretched across the ridges of the knuckle. Screaming into a pillow. Droplets of sweat formed at the base of the neck. Fight or flight mode. A slow tick in the jaw. Ice cold showers. One rep too many. Steam coming from the spout of a kettle. Boxing gloves, in a corner. Paying the price for impulsive decisions. Tunnel vision. Giving the ego props, but not all the credit. Pacing oneself. Coal catching light at a barbecue. Rugby uniform, two sizes too big. A toddler falling down on soft grass.

Taurus Saturn

― Pennies in a jar. A set, of fine china, accumulated over time. Vinyl played on a Crosley Cruiser. Scrambling to make rent day. Multiple bank accounts. Paying cash over card. White lilies, a centrepiece on the dining table. Buying the same product over and over again. Loyalty cards. Slow cooking. Aeration of bread. A short stroll after dinner. Shoes buffed and shined, by the front door. Crystal cut glass housing clear liquid. The finest dinnerware brought out for special occasions.

Gemini Saturn

― A tickle in the throat. Coughing before a point is made. Audiobooks. The chewed cap of a pen, between the teeth. Stuttering. Restless eyes. Amber glow of a traffic light. Staying up all night to consume information. Aux cables. Permeant creases to the spine of a thick reference book. Last call in a library before closing time. Indentations on a stress ball. A silver tongue. Taming the mind to find peace. Soft vibrations from an electric toothbrush. A keyboard resting on the wall. Breathing exercises before a presentation.

Cancer Saturn

― Photographs in a photo album. Tea stained letters of endearment. Arms crossed over the chest recreates a sense of safety. A tried and trusted recipe passed down. Hot cocoa before bed. Lullabies. Trepidation when it comes to emotionally charged situations. Casserole dishes containing humble portions of heaven. Birdsong as the sun rises. Family heirlooms kept in a velvet pouch. Height marked by notches on the wall. Necklaces made out of macaroni. Friendship bracelets.

Leo Saturn

― Trophies catching dust, behind a cabinet. The definition of achievement drilled in from a young age. Beads embroided on the curve of the back. Scarlett stained pointe shoes. Being painfully aware of a truth embedded in a joke. Bristles of a paintbrush splayed. Finger paintings. Heart playing Scatato notes. Fringing running along the back of a leather jacket. Slicked back hair. Opera glasses observing the scene from a height. Playing small. Playstation cables tangled. Cherry cola.

Virgo Saturn

― Suduko’s on a long train journey. The smell of fresh linen permeating the house. French horn-rimmed glasses. Filter coffee. Sticky notes poking out of an organiser. Multiple alarms set. Sneaking meditation in during lunch. Rush hour. Sweating the small stuff. Employee of the month. Burnout because enough isn’t good enough. Trips away that no one knows about. Tension released on the mat. Vitamins nabbed at bargain prices. Normcore. The curve of a nail bed. The quiet carriage of a train ride.

Libra Saturn

― The tall stem of a Martini glass. Spoken word in an intimate setting. Finding gems in a vintage shops. Mascara running down cheeks. Scented candles. Vintage perfume bottles. Elocution lessons. Fluffy slippers. Holding on too tightly to whats just. Learning forward in conversation. A Minor scale. Wind chimes blowing in the wind. Satin eye masks. Opening up to another requires a bit more effort. Frilly socks. Pouring into a diary at the end of the day. A blue box. Pearls around the neck.

Scorpio Saturn

― A toothpick hanging from the side of the mouth. Alarm bells set off at the slightest inclination of an intruder. Black latex pants. Street lights flickering in an alleyway. Fearful of deep bonding with another further solidifies a notion of isolation. A silver chain hanging from belt loops. The cold tiles of the bathroom floor. The point of incisor teeth. Silver tipped boots. Black matches with a red tip. Vantage point. Riding shotgun. Tight spaces. Sharp corners. Eagles circling the air. Lowered eyelashes.

Sagittarius Saturn

― Left ear ringing. Ted talks with breakfast. Neon lights flashing between the trees. Coins under the sofa. A cork board filled with memories. Floorboards vibrating because of music. Digging deep to find the light in a dark situation. A stainless steel water bottle. The smell of rain. Just catching the last train. Raw space. A painting on a wall, slightly crooked. Recognising a familiar face in a crowd. Fingerless gloves. Boy Scouts around a campfire listening to an Elder. Jumping off a diving board. A little pocketbook shoved into a back pocket.

Capricorn Saturn

― Wanting to fall off the face of the face of earth, not forever, but for a while. A five year plan. Engraved working buttons. An empty playground. Two kisses upon meeting someone new. Country clubs. Freshly mowed lawn. The nib of a fountain pen. Not wanting to fail can actually mean nothing gets started. Socks peeking out from suit trousers. A stiff upper lip. A three course meal, and then dessert. Dry cleaning home delivered. The heavy pressure of water at the crown.

Aquarius Saturn

― Licking postage stamps. A number written on a bar reciept. Blue light from an aquarium. Feeling the weight of upholding one’s personal truth. Drawers that won’t shut. Organised mess. Red booths in a diner. Reading glasses hanging from the neck. A tray filled with trinkets accumulated over the years. Struggling to feel confident to put one’s unique spin on structures in society. Cult movies on video. A soft hue from lava lamps. Tongue-in-cheek graphic t-shirts. Frayed jeans. Floorboards creaking under pacing.

Pisces Saturn

― Alpha brain waves. A packet of cigarettes, opened but full. Escaping to deal with responsibility. Feet dangling off the edge of the bed. Reaching for something tangible in the dark. The calm before the storm. Right ear ringing. Dreams, felt vividly in dream state but in waking state, difficult to pinpoint. Crystals under the pillow. Wanting to help in the world but unsure of where to start. Shadows creeping up a white wall. Guilt. Kiss of life. The soft glow from a pink salt Himalayan lamp. Putting money into a cup outside of a train station.

| little thoughts about mercury placements

| little thoughts about venus placements

| little thoughts about mars placements

#astrology #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #saturn #mine #thoughts #zodiac signs

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luckylq53-blog · 4 years ago

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lokis-lady-death · 6 years ago

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Bake-tastic Two

Tom Hiddleston x Reader (LEMONy fresh, if you catch what I am pitching ;D)

Lady Death: I tagged anyone I thought might be interested! Just a simple two part story about a girl meeting a man and baking some cupcakes. I did this by request for a super awesome mutual’s birthday! @kcd15 I hope you enjoy it, I’m so sorry it’s late but you get two parts for being so patient <3 Hope you enjoy!

Bake-tastic (Part One Link)

Step Two: Raise the Temperature

The lights were blinding against an all white background while beepers from a few wall mounted ovens began to cry out. Looking over the counters, you saw mounting piles of raw dough, several double boilers ready for the stove and a conglomerate of random ingredients.

“Ms. Y/n?” You whipped your eyes over to the corner of the room where the chef stood with a fresh rack of delicious smelling puffed up pastries.

You were like a deer in headlights, soaking up every ounce of him in the fluorescent light. Even at a distance you could see he was tall, magnificently so, with long strong arms and a lean torso. His hair was a mess of curls, a tad longer than on his Facebook with a touch of facial hair, but those blue eyes were just as enchanting as the image you stared at earlier. He reached up to wipe away a smidgen of batter from his cheek, flashing you a smile as he closed the distance between you, the other hand extended out.

"Ms. Y/n, it's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Tom."

Your lips fluttered but nothing came out as you took his hand in yours, your fingers practically disappearing in his grip. That gorgeous face had stricken you dumb, taking every tangible word out of your head that could have possibly been uttered, leaving you speechless.

His smile didn't leave him when he chuckled, “Are you here to bake or have a staring contest, Ms. Y/n?”

"Oh, yeah, uh, right, sorry, Chef… I’m just a little nervous."

"That’s alright, I completely understand. But I assure you, there’s nothing to be nervous about! Now, we have a lot of work to do, so go ahead and slip on an apron."

Stumbling over yourself before finally finding one by the main kitchen door, you threw it over your head before fighting with the tie as you tried to quiet your nerves.

"Good, now wash your hands and you can come help me with the croissants," he instructed while he sat out several hot baking sheets of cookies from the ovens.

"Yes, Chef," you answered, feeling his eyes follow as you looked one way and then another to find the sink. He hid a small laugh behind his hand rather than tell you where to go, watching as you triumphantly danced over to the sink a few feet away.

After you dried your hands, you went before him, trying to keep yourself calm. It was barely noticeable, but his eyes cut away from you as he cleared his throat, trying to keep his own nerves in check. "Alright, firstly you don't have to call me Chef. Tom is fine."

Sucking in on your teeth, you retaliated, "Okay, but if I can't call you Chef, then you have to call me y/n. No Ms."

He gave a court nod, agreeing, "Deal. Now, let's start with some basics." You watched intently as Tom went over where things were in the kitchen, a lesson that would have been nice when you were craning your neck in every direction looking for an apron or sink. After he showed you the last drawer filled with mismatched measuring cups, he escorted you towards the table of dough.

You watched him meticulously roll up his sleeves as you listened, "We can start on these croissants, I've had these sitting out for several minutes so it should be ready." He glanced up to catch your eyes, making you freeze. "Have you ever made croissants before?"

"Well, no, not from scratch," you admitted a bit shameful. Bread of any kind was not a particular specialty of yours and it was embarrassing to say the least.

But Tom didn't look concerned in the least, going on, "Yes, it's not a very popular in most kitchens since Pillsbury has practically perfected it." You couldn't hold back the soft snort that escaped as he turned towards the table. "Well, it looks fluffy enough to work with, so why don't we give it a try?" He shot you a smile that you reflected back.

"Yeah, sounds good!"

He separated out a few portions before handing you your own pile to knead. "Now, watch carefully," he instructed, sprinkling a small cup of flour onto the table in front of him. "The key is to get the dough pliable. You don't want it sticky but you also can't over do it or the pastries will come out dry." He rolled it out into a flattened heap before sprinkling a touch more flour, flipped it over to fold in half and began digging his knuckles into it. He folded and pounded two more times before stepping back. "Go ahead, work yours out."

Taking a deep breath, you faced the table and squared your shoulders. You sprinkled some flour out across the counter before spreading out your dough with the rolling pin as you had seen Tom do. Adding a touch more flour, you folded it and then paused, remembering what your sister said.

'Flirt.'

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you lightly pressed your fists into the dough. Without turning, your eyes found his as you asked, "Like this?"

At first his brow furrowed, as if his obvious rebuttal would be no, but instead he saw an opportunity. There was a small smirk etching across his face, as he moved closer behind you. "Actually, it's more like-" he wrapped his arms around you, slowly lacing his fingers with yours as he urged you to dig into the dough a bit harder. He tried his damndest to sound professional as he explained, "You, you just need to be a tad-” he pressed your hands deeper into the dough, his lips close to your ears as he finished, “-rougher." His body had you ever so slightly pinned against the counter while both of your hands moved in synchrony. He motioned for you both to roll and knead the dough a few more times than was necessary before finally stopping.

Yet even as it was done he didn't retreat quickly while you stood silent with your heart beating so loudly you were afraid he could hear it. Afraid to move, you wanted him to do something, though you weren’t sure what.

Once he cleared his throat, Tom stepped back with, "A-alright, I think you've gotten the hang of it. I’m going to let you do this next one and I'll do these other two then we'll move on to the next step."

The two of you repeated the process silently for a couple of minutes before he reached to a counter behind you, his arm brushing your shoulder and making you inhale sharply.

'Keep it together,' you begged yourself.

He set out a few sticks of butter, handing you two. "We're going to flatten these sticks and roll them into the dough."

You watched, star eyed as he laid out wax paper over and under the butter before using the rolling pin to flatten it down. He nodded towards the other sticks, instructing, "Now you do yours just like this and then," he lifted it up and added it to his fixed dough and folded it over, "Finish up like this," he folded one more time before wrapping in cling wrap. "Easy enough?"

You nodded courtly, getting to work on repeating exactly what he did. In the time it took you to manage your own pile of dough, he finished off the two other mounds, rolling out and folding, finally flattening butter and adding it. The two of you wrapped the dough up in cling wrap and put all four pieces into the fridge to chill.

“Alright,” he announced, picking up a timer and setting it to forty-five minutes. “Once this sounds, we will finish these. Now, let’s get to the cupcakes.”

Feeling confident enough to keep pace with him, the two of you set up a few mixers and gathered the flour, sugar and butter.

You watched him to ensure you were measuring out ingredients to his taste, respecting that this was his bakery and his recipes. Every once in a while he offered verbal guidance, but otherwise, he let you be. By the time you were both done with the batter, it all added up to 12 cupcake trays filled with vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry batter.

Tom was loading the last of the trays into the oven when you happened to catch sight of his midriff.

And at the very top of his jeans, barely visible, you could make out black ink.

You couldn't control the internal shrieking as you audibly gasped. At the slam of the oven doors, Tom twirled around to face you just as you slapped a hand over your face. Your cheeks swelled when you pointed at him and tried to choke down your laughter.

You couldn't control it anymore as you blurted out, "You have a tramp stamp?!"

"Oh, oh, that, you see, its, its, er," he stuttered, flustering all the more as he tried to explain.

You covered your face to try and quiet your laughing. "I'm sorry," you apologized, "I didn't mean to, your shirt, it was just there…"

Tom ran a hand down his face, smiling awkwardly as he let out an uneasy laugh. "Yes, I'm afraid it's true. It’s an unfortunate momento from my college days back in the UK, me and a few of my rugby mates lost a bet and had to get matching tattoos on our, er, lower backs."

His cheeks were as the color of the strawberry batter and it just made you swoon more. "See, that explanation makes it not so bad," you tried to soothe. Tilting your head to the side and cutting your eyes up at him, you couldn't stop your curiosity. "Can I see it?"

At that, his face went redder. "Oh, um..." You could see the hesitation and for a moment you wondered if you had overstepped. That is, until his hands went down to undo his belt, making your heart speed up. "I'll let you see, but not a word to anyone."

Your hand went up as you swore like you were before a judge, "Not a word."

He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath to mentally prepare himself, then turned as he lowered his jeans just a tad. Biting down on your lips, you took it all in.

The detail was actually pretty in your opinion, the intricate line curling around itself like cursive that spelled out no real words. But the cremedelacreme was the central, half dollar sized blue butterfly in the middle.

He yanked his jeans up and turned back, but not quite quick enough to hide the white boxers he wore beneath them peeking out behind his zipper. Tom’s face was still ablaze as he flashed you a small grin, affirming, “Alright, that’s enough of that.”

Still covering your mouth to hide your obvious amusement, you nodded.

You nearly jumped when the timer for the croissants went off, but Tom looked relieved to have the distraction.

“Alright, let's get these rolled up,” he announced, pulling out the bundles and setting them back on the counter. You let out a breath and shrugged your shoulders, ready to start.

The rest of your night was spent at Tom’s side, taking in his process while doing your best to keep pace. In all honesty, you had never done this much in any kitchen back home. While you worked at bakeries in your small town, there was nowhere near the amount of production you were doing here. To imagine he did all of this work alone every night was daunting to say the least, even after months of selling thousands of his pastries to the hungry people of L.A.

It was midnight before the two of you were finishing up icing the last of the custom order cakes to be picked up the next morning. When the white base layer was done, Tom stepped back and handed you a red icing bag.

“Alright, y/n, let’s see that piping technique,” he spoke with a smile.

Looking at the bag and then back at him, you couldn’t help but ask, “Are you sure? I mean, this is a custom order…”

“I’ve watched you all night,” Tom argued with a reassuring smile as he took your hand in his. “I’m more than confident you can handle a few icing flowers.” He placed the bag in your grip and then spread opened the order sheet. “Go on now, just see what they asked for and expand on it. That’s the fun part of the bakery, isn’t it? Getting to create something?”

You swallowed, looking back down at the cake in hopes he didn’t see the small panic written all over your face. In truth you loved decorating cakes the most but knowing this was something a customer ordered was a bit much to take in.

Biting down on your lip, calming your nerves, you leaned down to be eye level with the cake. Holding your piping bag as steady as you could, with a slight of hand and a swivel of the cakes turntable, you got to work.

Tom stood back, watching you with a smirk on his face as you concentrated hard on your work. With your attention off of him, he pulled out his phone to see several texts from Chris.

~How's it going?

I'm taking your silence as good??

You better not be acting weird!

She knows your name now, right???~

Tom sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose until the phone lightly vibrated in his hand. He glanced down at the newest message from his friend.

~IT SAYS READ, I KNOW YOU SEE MY MESSAGES

TELL ME HOW IT’S GOING

ARE YOU GOING TO NAME YOUR CHILDREN AFTER ME?~

You glanced over your shoulder when you heard Tom let out a scoff, which transformed into him clearing his throat when your eyes locked together. “I, I got a message, from a friend, sorry, that wasn’t in regards to you.”

Turning back, you went on setting up your flowers while Tom quietly cursed Chris under his breath.

~Yes, I see your messages, it’s going fine, the silence is because I am not going to check my phone while we’re working, and no, I’m not “acting weird”~

He hit send with an extra humph on the keyboard. Before he could put the phone away, he got another buzz.

~You said working, you’re not working, this is a preliminary date.

Do you like her?

Does she like you?

Is she everything you ever dreamed while you eavesdropped on her?

Have you flirted? Tell me you flirted. You’re supposed to be flirting.~

Tom tensed at the verbiage, but was genuinely impressed by the speed of Chris's texting.

~Putting phone up now. Goodbye.~

And turned it off.

Shrugging his shoulders, Tom leaned forward to look over you at the work you had done. In the few minutes he distracted himself with Chris’s nonsense, he was taken aback at the amount of detail you you were able to put into the petals of the roses you had formed in a circle around the base and the top of the cake. In perfect, unique form, the flowers began to blossom, starting off as tiny buds around the bottom before becoming one large rose on top in the center.

You looked back to see his face, unsure how to read the blank stare and opened mouth reaction.

“Is it alright?”

It took another second before he closed his mouth and shook his head in disbelief. “That’s absolutely gorgeous, y/n. Did you do a lot of floral work at the last bakery you worked at?”

You couldn’t hide your pleasure at the complement, your smile widening as you let out a nervous laugh. “Um, well, I mostly did plain cakes, nothing like what you do. I mean, you work is like, like art. Where I used to work was pretty straight forward, by the book. I couldn’t really do anything like this.”

Tom nodded, looking back down at the cake. “Well, I’m certainly glad I got to see your first masterpiece,” he offered with a wide grin. He took up the icing bag, leaning closer to the cake, “But there is one place that needs a little touch up. Do you see?”

You leaned in to see where you missed. “I don’t-”

“Just get a bit closer,” he asked, pointing the tip of the nozzle. “Right there.”

You leaned in further, certain he was wrong but not wanting to be disagreeable. Just as you were close enough and distracted by trying to find your error, Tom reached up with the bag and made a streak from your nose back towards your ear.

“Ah, see, there, I got it!”

Your face pulled back in reflex, still staring into those bright blue green orbs, stunned into silence by what just happened.

When you did absolutely nothing, Tom's brow raised and, in an attempt to push things along, he elegantly raised the bag again but this time he offered it to you.

Glancing down, you took the bag and felt a laugh rattle inside while outside you remained blank as you looked back towards his face. Raising the bag, you drew two sets of whiskers on either side of his cheeks.

"I feel like you've made me a cat?" he guessed with a smirk. Turning to the side to strike a prolific pose, he asked, "Do I make a good cat? Am I… meow-tastic?"

There was no stopping the flood of giggles that erupted out of you now, unable to contain it. Your eyes closed as you hinged over, cackling as you tried to hold back tears.

Tom started laughing as well, taking a dampened towel off the counter to wipe his face, though some remnants of the icing was left in the short scruff on his chin. He handed it off and you wiped away what was on your cheek.

Your eyes were on each other, smiling, laughing. There was something about the way his gaze rolled over you. The quickened rise and fall of his chest, for some reason, made you crave touching him. You reached up with the rag and lightly brushed over the bit of icing left on his face, stopping when your thumb caressed over his thin facial hair. You knew he hadn't expected that by the widening of his eyes and sharp inhale, and truthfully you hadn’t expected it either.

"Ah, ha, you, uh. You missed a spot," you spoke with a weak laugh as you brought your hand back.

Tom took an unexpected step towards you, closing the already narrow distance. Without meaning to, you leaned backwards into the counter, bracing yourself without looking away from him.

You were both so close, faces mere inches apart. His lips parted and the fleeting thought that he may kiss you left as he cleared his throat and looked past your shoulder at the cake.

“Let me, er um, get this put away and then we, uh, can get started closing up shop.” Your chest fluttered, but you managed to keep smiling at him while he set the cake into its box and walked over towards the freezer.

While washing your hands the sound of music began to steadily build from somewhere in the kitchen. Turning around, you saw Tom playing on his phone.

“Oh, sorry,” he apologized, “I usually play something while I clean up. Is that alright?”

“Perfectly fine,” you shot, turning back towards the sink to run hot water as he set a playlist and put his phone down.

Just as he started grabbing the bowls from the cluttered counter, Enrique’s Tonight started filling the air. You turned towards Tom to take the dishes, feeling his fingers brush yours before you swirled back to the water. He went to collect more dishes as you lowered your arms down into the sink filled with water and bubbles. The music kept up, making your hips rock a little to the beat while you managed to take your mind off the beatiful british baker washing dishes at your side. The two of you had a , swaying slightly to the different songs playing over the speaker.

He had just dried his hands when your phone began to go wild in your dress pocket beneath your apron. Your own hands were still soaking wet. You stepped back from the sink in obvious distress as your phone’s ring just became louder and louder.

“Oh, do you...” Tom started while waving his hand.

“Would you mind?” You turned your hip towards him. “Right pocket of my dress,” you instructed.

He moved the apron to the side and reached inside, his hand inadvertently sliding down your side to your hips before circling around to your waist and then finally moving down into the slot. It handed dawned on you how thing the material was until you felt the goosebumps his touch created down your skin. Even as quick as the motion was, it was enough to leave you flustered.

Tom swiped the green light on your screen, oblivious, and pressed the phone against your burning face before you had a chance to realize it was Steph calling. You glanced up into his gaze, unable to look away even as your sister’s voice came over the phone into your ear.

“HELLO?”

“Yes, hey, sorry, what did you say?”

“Oh, I was just checking to make sure you’re not DEAD since you don’t answer texts? It’s almost two in the morning???”

You closed your eyes, realizing how late it was and how you hadn’t bothered to check your phone a single time since you got there. Letting out a sigh, you told her, “I’m sorry, I’m fine. Promise. It, it’s going good.”

Tom smiled at that, and you reflected it, feeling that flutter in your chest again.

“Aight, that’s good,” she went on, “So you're about to come home, right?"

You broke your gaze, realizing you were done with the dishes and Tom had cleared up everything on the counter, even wiped down the stainless steel tops.

There was nothing left to do, so all you could reason was," Yeah, I'm helping Tom close up now."

At the sound of his name, Steph squealed, "Well, have fun with your hot british boss, Kay BYYYYYYYYEEEEEEE!”

The line disconnected but not before your face felt like it would burst into flames, knowing Tom was close enough to hear your sister’s brash comment.

A fact that was confirmed when he blushed as well and dropped his eyes, unable to hold back his snort. “Hot British Boss, hm? I thought surely she would dubb me the Loud British Neighbor for all of the complaints she's filed on me.”

Your jaw dropped, realizing he knew. "When did you figure out...?" you asked, not needing to specify.

Tom let out a shaky laugh, admitting, "I've known since Chris scheduled you to help me. You realize your address is on the job application?"

At that your brow furrowed. "Why did you pull my application?"

"Because I wanted to see if you could possibly take an apprenticeship here and reviewing your application seemed like the obvious first step a boss would make?"

Your eyes widened at the idea, never once expecting that you were basically interviewing for a job opportunity of a lifetime. "Apprenticeship?"

"It just seemed like we might be a good fit," was his answer as he beamed down at you.

All you could do was shrug with an innocent smile. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you?”

He was laughing when he locked your phone, the song on his own switching over to the familiar pop sounding beat of Shakira’s Hips Don’t Lie. He lowered to put it back into your pocket in a much more straightforward movement than when he pulled it out since he wasn’t in as much of a hurry. Yet when he started to retract his hand, you slightly moved your hips against his fingers.

Tom hesitated.

Your eyes found one another again, though now neither of you laughing, both of your chests tightening while your hearts pounded harder and harder. His eyes scanned down towards where his hand was and you noticed his tongue sweep out across his lips. “I, um.” He didn’t go on, but he also didn’t pull his hand back, stuck in place while his brain tried to make sense of the situation.

Taking the initiative, you acted without a second thought.

Raising yourself onto your tiptoes, you took him by surprise when your lips lightly pressed against his. There was a rush surging through your body, even as you pulled back in that split second of doubt, unsure your advances were reciprocated.

But when his hands came around to take hold of your hips, electricity passed from his fingertips down into your very bones. His lips came to yours while his hands moved up your dress, digging through the thin fabric into you. Your body slinked to his touch as you brought your arms around his shoulders, kissing him harder when you felt him pull you closer.

Tom’s hands slithered towards your ass and, feeling him take hold, you were lifted up into the air and swung around where until your bottom landed on the cleared counter.

A chill ran up your body as your faces parted, both of you becoming fully aware of what was about to transpire.

Tom looked into your eyes as you took fast, deep breaths.

No one spoke, there was only the sound of Shakira's voice and your pants.

Glancing down, you inhaled harder when your fingers happened upon the buckle of his belt.

The two of you locked eyes again, holding onto the moment, waiting for some sort of sign from the other to keep going.

Lightheaded from the rush coursing through your veins, you wrapped your fingers around the thick leather binding of his jeans and gave a single sharp tug, unhitching its buckle.

It was all the consent he needed, his mouth coming back down to yours while letting you finish undoing his pants. His long, dexterous fingers gingerly lifted the hem of your skirt, then wrapped around the lace of your underwear. Your lips parted with an incidental moan as you slid his jeans and underwear down over his ass, making sure to drag your nails across his bottom. His reaction was apparent with his stiff, now free member standing erect between you both, only separated now by your panties. With a small motion of his hips, Tom slid down your cotton encased lips, sending another shiver down your spine.

Meanwhile, his hands were grabbing hold of your panties and sliding them over your curves. You wiggled yourself against him to help hurry them off, feeling your breath leave your lungs when you were left bare bottomed on the cold metal counter.

Tom reached up to your face, sliding one hand along your jaw back towards your hair, while the other traced along your outer thigh. He moved himself into position at your entrance.

Unable to control himself anymore, Tom’s grip on your hair tightened just as he entered you. A long moan escaped your lips at the sensation, like a bubble of angst bursting at the intrusion, a delicious blend of want and desire spilling out as you reached your first climax almost immediately. You spread your thighs for Tom, granting him more access as your body started grinding to into his. He repaid the motion by pulling out and then swiftly pushing deeper upon reentry. You dug into him, one hand back under the button-up he wore, the other still firmly holding his ass to keep you balanced as he held you in place. Biting down on your lip, you tried to quiet down as he started building a rhythm, pumping in and out at increasing speed. His cock entered at such an angle that it repeatedly rubbed that sweet spot that curled your toes, making you rock against him. It kept going, the speed and motion steady as you both edged closer and closer to finishing. With his fingers still tangled in your hair, Tom turned your face towards him to kiss you again just as a deep throated moan rattled between your mouths. You couldn't help but sink your nails into him, tightening your hold as he slowed to move out of you just before thrusting as deep as your body allowed. Your hips remained still against the punishment by his grip, aching for him with every withdrawal, keeping steady so that he could get as deep as possible. In one final connection of your hips, Tom stopped once he was as deep as he could get, making your back arch into him as you climaxed again, crying out as your body tensed and relaxed in his arms.

Wrapped up in your own ecstasy, you hardly noticed him retreat from you to finish into a rag he discarded. You buried your face into his chest, taking in the light scent of lavender laundry detergent and cake batter mixed into his shirt. Tom heaved deep breaths while standing in place, his arms still wrapped around you, though now more tender. The light sweat on his brow glistened in the fluorescent light when you glanced up at him through your lashes.

The baker looked like he would say something but just then your pocket began to ring again. Tom stepped back so you could reach into your dress and answer the phone, taking only a second to collect yourself. "Yes?" you asked, unable to tear your eyes away from Tom as he zipped, straightened, tugged and fastened his jeans, only to let his ruffled button up hang over the top.

"Hi, yeah, just your sister again, making sure you're not DEAD. AGAIN."

You sighed at the sound of Steph's voice, but to your surprise, Tom chimed in as he adjusted his rolled sleeves, "If that's your sister, ask her if she minds waiting just a bit longer. That way, I can go ahead and lock up and, um-" his smile widened, "-I can walk you back to your apartment. You know, make sure you make it back safely."

"Is that him I hear in the background?" Steph's voice exclaimed. “He’s almost bearable to my ears when I know how hot he is!”

"Uh, yes, he's going to walk me back. Just gonna lock up then head that way."

"He's going to walk you home?!"

"Kay, love you, see you in a minute, please stop calling me, byyyeee," you spat out before hanging up and turning your phone off. Tom's eyes lit up as he kneeled in front of you to pick up your panties. He stayed down, still looking up while he held them out for you to slip on. "Oh, a gentleman, I see," you cooed, placing your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as you set one foot after another into the lace, feeling a tingle surge up from your feet while he raised them up past your thighs. You flipped put your skirt and inhaled sharply just before he planted a soft peck on your lips.

Walking back out into the shop, you took your purse from under the cash register while he shut down all the lights. When he came out to the front he flashed you a wide smile as he held open the door. "After you."

You stood on the sidewalk, watching him carefully set up the security system before stepping outside to lock the door with a key. He held out his arm towards you as he asked, "Shall we?"

Smiling up into his eyes, you looped arms with him and walked side by side down the awakening city street of L.A. All the other shops were beginning to spark to life and you knew soon Bake-tastic would also be opening up. The sun began to rise on the city of dreams while you and Tom made your way down the sidewalk, arms linked, ready for the end of a more an blissful night.

Like my garbage? Read more of it! Master List

All Tags: @socialheartbreak @kcd15 @maladaptive-ninja-returns@nephalem67 @jessiejunebug @woodyandbuzz20-01@lokislilslut@bambamwolf87 @kitsuneharo12 @yzssie @j-u-s-t-4@lokilvrr@lokixme @macbetheliza @lou-makes-me-strong@wolfsmom1@noplacelikehome77@unicorniorosacomefrutillas @justiceiswater

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x oc #tom hiddleston x reader

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barinacraft · 1 year ago

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Golf Cocktails - British Open Themed Drinks

Scotch Whisky Is Par For The (Old) Course At Saint Andrews

Part 4 of our series on golf themed cocktails focuses on drinks related to the British Open. Scotland is the birthplace of golf, home to its own unique whisky (that's the Scottish spelling, American whiskeys include the 'e') and the country with the most current Open Championship venues at five.

British Open Golf Courses

Scottish courses in the current rota include the Old Course at The Royal and Ancient Golf Club of St Andrews, the Royal Troon Golf Club, Turnberry in South Ayrshire, Carnoustie Golf Links and Muirfield in Gullane, Scotland (their 2017 vote to allow female members overturned their gender discriminatory policy which temporarily got the course banned in 2016 as a future host).

The four English golf clubs in The Open's modern rotation are Royal Lytham & St. Annes, Royal Saint George's in Sandwich, Royal Liverpool in Hoylake and Royal Birkdale in Southport, England. Royal Portrush Golf Club in Portrush, County Antrim, Northern Ireland now rounds out the ten venues and was the site of the 2019 British Open after last hosting in 1951.

Final rounds are normally played on the weekend containing the third Friday in July. Future British Open tournament dates include July 20-23, 2023 at Royal Liverpool, Hoylake, England; July 14-21, 2024 at Royal Troon, Troon, Scotland; July 13-20, 2025 at Royal Portrush, Portrush, Northern Ireland and July 12-19, 2026 at Royal Birkdale Golf Club, Southport, England.

The tournament may be named after its neighbor as part of Great Britain, but the Scots invented the game of golf on the Old Course at Saint Andrews. So it seems appropriate to start off our list of links libations by paying homage with some good scotch whisky cocktail recipes monikered to match that you can mix up at your home bar.

British Open Golf Themed Cocktails

Scotch Smash:

1 ½ oz Scotch

1 tsp sugar or simple syrup

3 sprigs mint leaves

Celebrate that long drive you smashed which set up the next series of shots for birdie. Gently muddle the mint and sugar in a double old fashioned glass. Add crushed ice, stir in the whisky and garnish with a mint sprig. Some smash recipes also include a dash of orange bitters in the drink.

These next two drinks may remind you of the links style courses used in the rotation for the British Open which are all loaded with sand traps and other hazards.

Blood and Sand:

¾ oz Scotch whisky

¾ oz sweet vermouth

¾ oz cherry brandy or liqueur

¾ oz blood orange juice

This mixed drink is one of only a few truly classic cocktails to feature scotch in the recipe. The sand part of the name may remind you of the bunkers while the first part probably hints at one of the other hazards which can bloody your knuckles swinging out of or through them.

Neither of those is actually true of course. Its named after the 1922 movie starring Rudolph Valentino and the remakes of the film later which cast Rita Hayworth and Sharon Stone in the leading female roles. This drink's blood orange juice makes the flavor and the color a little more intense than the regular OJ in the classic recipe. You'll be seeing red and that's no bull.

The first version is still a good story to tell your golf buddies around the bar until they figure it out though. Add all the ingredients to an ice filled cocktail shaker. Shake well and strain into chilled glassware.

Sand Trap:

1 ½ oz Scotch

½ oz sweet vermouth

½ oz cherry liqueur or brandy

½ oz lemon juice

This is a twist on the Blood and Sand cocktail substituting the juice of lemons for blood oranges and using different recipe proportions as well. Now if all these recipes are too complicated, you could just enjoy your whisky straight up or on the rock a.k.a a big round ice ball which visualizes the golf theme of all these drinks.

Damn The Weather:

1 ½ oz gin

1 tbs sweet vermouth

1 tsp orange liqueur

1 oz orange juice

Golfers worldwide suffer from bad weather delays and cancellations, but the British Isles and Scotland may have arguably the worst reputation for wind and rain. So if you're home behind the bar instead of playing a round, this drink will help weather the storm.

The Putting Mixture - Let's Haggis Some Kümmel First To Calm Our Nerves

The pros who win the British Open may raise the Claret Jug as a victory trophy, but the members hoist something other than red wine in preparation of conquering their home course. They prefer to get the golf ball rolling, so to speak, with a nip of the herbal liqueur known as Kümmel (also spelled kimmel, or kummel) that's flavored with anise, caraway seeds and cumin.

Back in the old days the members used to have a wee nip in the locker room before they went out and always put a couple of drops on their hands to give a better grip on the leather. They used to call it the ‘putting mixture.’

You can’t come to Prestwick and not have a Kummel. In fact, Prestwick Golf Club is the biggest purchaser of Mentzendorff Kummel in the world. We buy it by the pallet-load!

~ David Bennett, Club Steward, Prestwick Golf Club*

No one knows for sure when or why drinking Kummel before a round of golf in the British Isles became such a tradition, but some speculate a Scottish regiment brought it home after fighting in countries during World War II where the liqueur was popular.

The origins are long lost in folklore, but it is the thing to do, like a pint after rugby or a Pimm's after tennis.

~ Tony Yeates, Secretary, Luffness New Golf Club, East Lothian, Scotland

Just exactly how nippy your nip needs to be to take away the yips is a matter of personal preference. A shot of the putting mixture can be with or without ice. St. George's Hill and Prestwick pour it from the refrigerator, while Luffness and Muirfield serve their Kummel straight from the freezer.† You'll have to judge for yourself though.

Perhaps This Twosome Would Be The Perfect Weekend Pairing

Of course, you could always pair some Scotch whisky and Kümmel together for a second round of British Open golf drinks like in the Vowel Cocktail and a few others. « Click through for more examples of this combo.

Irish There Was A Drink To Toast Ireland Being Back In The Rotation Again

Well, it turns out there is!

Cameron's Kick:

1 ½ oz Scotch whisky

1 ½ oz Irish whiskey

¾ oz freshly squeezed lemon juice

½ oz almond (orgeat) syrup

Shake all ingredients with ice and strain into a chilled glass. Garnish with lemon zest twist.

This cocktail embodies the spirit of both nations, but you'll barley notice the jolt.

Last, But Certainly Not Least - The Golfer's Favourite

Voted the drink of drinks by thousands of golfers, the Whisky MacDonald a.k.a Whisky Mac is a lock on the links and should be at your course as well. Plus, it just might be a cure for what ails you. Literally!

More Rounds Of Refreshments »

The Masters Golf Drinks PGA Championship Golf Drinks US Open Golf Cocktails

References

* - Whyte, David J. “The Birth Of The Open Championship” Linksland Communications 6 June 2010. Web.

† - Rocky. “Kummel - Calming Those First-Tee Nerves” Whisky & Fine Spirits Blog. The Whisky Exchange, 17 July 2014. Web.

#Cocktails #Drinks #Golf #Party #Scotch #Themes #Whisky #Sports

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sunaprincess7 · 7 years ago

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The Matchmaker

a/n: Okay, so this began life as a birthday present for the amazing @ghost-of-bambi but obviously as I’m the slowest writer of all time it’s taken this amount of time to post anything. Sarah, I’ve been a huge fan of your work forever so I hope it’s not too weird to randomly post this. Happy belated birthday - all mentions of Euphemia are obviously based on your amazing characteristion of her.

This is the first fanfic I’ve written in about ten years so hopefuly it’s okay and not too terrible to read. It’s me gently starting back into writing again with some fluff. Fingers crossed I’ll get better as I write more often. I should mention that James’s personality here is completely different from 15 year-old James as I tried to imagine how 18 years of being a young parent would change him.

Summary: James is a single parent, doing his best to get his eighteen year old son through school when Harry suddenly becomes desperate to set his dad up on a date. AU

FF.net link

“I’ve met a girl.”

James Potter looked up at his son from his dinner plate, mouth half full of the spaghetti Bolognese he had spent the afternoon preparing and was currently trying not to splatter all over the table because he didn’t plan on cleaning the kitchen for a second time that day.

“What happened to Bonnie?” Sirius asked uninterestedly from next to James, picking at his food. “You two seemed so in love it was enough to make me vomit. Not enough merlot,” he added briefly to James, who knew that some form of complaint was coming.

“Nothing has happened to Ginny,” Harry responded dryly, “not a girl for me. One for him,” he added, jerking his head towards James.

“Who? Me?” James asked, not really paying Harry any attention, “and the recipe said a glass,” he added to Sirius, ignoring the smirk that was forming on Remus’s face.

“The recipe is bollocks. And you used rosemary instead of thyme,” Sirius replied distastefully, peering into the bowl with narrowed eyes and picking through the strands of pasta with his fork.

“It’s a Jamie Oliver one. It says rosemary, not thyme,” James answered firmly, getting up to find the book, determined to prove his point and wondering why he bothered trying to feed anyone other than the one human in the room he was responsible for. “And you said you weren’t going to criticise my cooking anymore.”

“That was before I knew you were going to start fucking with a two-hundred-year-old recipe.”

“Dad!” Harry hissed, trying to glare at his father who was rifling through the ‘Oliver’s Twist’ recipe book. James thrust the book under Sirius’s nose, tapping triumphantly at the page.

“I’d advise bringing this up when Sirius isn’t here, Harry” Remus suggested wryly from the other end of the table. “And when Bolognese is not involved.”

“Why are you trying to set him up with a eighteen-year-old, anyways?” Sirius asked, finally turning his attention back to Harry, grabbing some more garlic bread and ignoring James’s insistent tapping at the book.

“She’s not eighteen, she’s your age,” Harry replied, successfully finding James’s eyes. “I think you’d really like her.”

“Thank you, as always, for your concern, Harry but I don’t need you to find me a girl,” James said with a small smile, sitting down again, “have some salad too.” He watched as his son reached for the salad bowl, before settling back to his own meal. Harry’s concern with his love life reared its head at least once a year but usually James was able to avert any serious discussion of the subject matter by bringing up rugby or suggesting another Mario Kart tournament.

“Yes, you do! You’re terrible with women. I can’t remember you ever going on a date,” Harry hit back, ladling a huge amount of salad onto his plate without looking and throwing down the tongs carelessly.

“He has a point, Prongs,” Sirius agreed, inspecting Jamie Oliver’s book with a grimace. “This is bollocks. Why didn’t you use Carluccio’s recipe?”

“Because you stole my book and still haven’t given it back!” James gritted out, grabbing the book out of Sirius’s hands.

“Harry, your father doesn’t need a girlfriend because he has already has a wife to bicker with,” Remus interjected smartly as Sirius and James glared at him in sync.

“I’ve noticed that,” Harry smirked, ignoring his father’s glare. “Seriously, Dad, she’s exactly your type. She’s smart and witty and…and she could…keep up with you,” he finished sincerely. “Just give it a chance.”

“Out of curiosity, where exactly are you meeting women in their thirties, Harry?” Remus queried bemusedly.

“She’s a friend of Mrs Weasley’s,” Harry replied, a little indignantly, still primarily talking to James. “I’ve met her a couple of times at the Burrow. She’s a librarian.”

“Harry,” James sighed, “I will worry about my own love life; you worry about your exams and university. If you get into Oxford, I’ll marry this woman, how does that sound?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “It sounds like you’re ignoring me. Ginny thinks you’d be perfect together.”

“You and your girlfriend are eighty years old,” Sirius observed grimly, “and you know your father is celibate.”

“I am not celibate,” James stated, beginning to sound hassled. “I have a son who is a full-time job,” he continued, pointedly staring at Harry, “and two friends who eat all my food constantly. Now can we please talk about something else? Is Ginny playing on Saturday?”

“Yes, it’s a big match,” Remus replied with the air of someone trying to move the conversation along, passing Harry the garlic bread. “Whole school was worried her ankle wouldn’t recover in time.”

“She’s okay now though, right?” James asked Harry. “You said she’s been back at training.”

“Ginny is fine, her ankle is fine, she is going to win us the match single-handedly, five tries at least” Harry replied, setting his fork down. “Stop changing the subject.”

“As owner of this house, this table, this cutlery and this food, I get to change the subject,” James quipped, setting his own fork down.

“Alright, I’ll change the subject,” Sirius interrupted, “who else thinks Prongs is turning into Fleamont?”

“Sirius…” Remus said wearily.

“What?” he exclaimed, “I definitely heard old Flea’ say that at some point. His cooking was a lot better than yours, though,” he added, flinging a small piece of rocket at James who stopped himself from flinging some salad back.

“You’re not helping,” Remus replied, before turning to Harry, teacher voice now firmly in place, “Harry, you know you are your father’s priority. I’m sure when you’re out of the house, he will start dating.”

“Now, who’s his wife, Moony?”

“Remus is right, Harry,” James said evenly, taking a deep breath. “You are my priority.”

“Ok,” Harry said begrudgingly, stirring his pasta around on the plate and allowing a brief pause before he next spoke. “Changing the subject…” he started as James began to eat again, “isn’t it pathetic that the only person having sex at this table is the eighteen-year-old?”

Sirius, James and Remus looked at each other and James noted his son holding his breath until he saw a small smile make its way onto their faces.

“He’s been spending too much time with your mother,” Sirius said to James, shaking his head, “and not enough time with mine. I’ve said for years some physical chastisement is exactly what you need,” he finished to Harry, thrusting his fork at him yet still somehow grinning with pride.

“Seriously, when was the last time any of you got any?” Harry queried, looking around the table, ignoring his father’s look of disapproval, daring to go further now that he knew he could.

“Well, Moony is still trying to figure out how to tell Tonks he likes her, even though she’s already asked him out, so probably around four years ago when he dated that teaching assistant for three weeks and didn’t tell anyone,” Sirius began, elaborately picking up his glass of wine and eyeing Remus, “I believe it’s unfair to offer women anything more than friendship when I’m still on my philosophical journey towards enlightenment…”

“Which means he keeps telling women he doesn’t believe in work, marriage or having children and they won’t sleep with him after that,” Remus added lowly to Harry.

“And as for your father,” Sirius continued loudly, “add nine months to eighteen years and there’s your answer.”

“Thank you,” James groaned, now giving up on his dinner and leaning back in his chair. “I remember there was a time when you two were actually helpful to me as a single parent.”

“Well, I think we’ve established that, of the people sat at this table, I am the only one qualified to be giving out advice about dating,” Harry said happily, particularly at James. “You should go out with Lily.”

James was about to rebut Harry’s suggest when Remus spoke quickly. “Lily Evans?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered, “you know her?”

“Yes, through Molly as well,” Remus laughed, “she was at Arthur’s birthday party a few years ago. The one you two ditched in favour of staying in to binge watch Stranger Things,” he told James and Sirius.

“Right decision,” Sirius stated triumphantly, as James grinned back.

“You know, Harry might be right, Prongs,” Remus continued, leaning back in his chair. “I can see you two together.”

“Thank you!” Harry sang, turning to his dad expectantly with a large smile.

When James regarded Remus sceptically, he went on, “she’s sharp, funny and very pretty from what I remember. She also laughed at all of Arthur’s terrible jokes which means she has the same sense of humour as you.”

“One, I have a great sense of humour,” James huffed, “two, we didn’t ditch Arthur’s party, Harry wasn’t well and three, if she’s so great, why don’t you go out with her?”

“Harry had a mild cold and we both know you ditched because you’re obsessed with single parent television shows,” Remus threw back confidently, as Harry sniggered. “And I’m not going to go out with her because I don’t fancy her. But, remembering back centuries ago when you last expressed an interest in girl, she seems like your type.”

“He doesn’t have a type, Moony,” Sirius observed, “he’s Joyce Byers in glasses and little Will here is his only concern.”

“Ok, I am ending this conversation once and for all,” James interjected, standing up and leaning down over the table. “I’m going to read in the other room and you two can do the dishes for being such terrible guests,” he said to Remus and Sirius. “Harry, go finish your homework and stop worrying about finding me a girlfriend.”

James gave them all one final look before exiting the room.

“You know he’s going to play Super Mario Odyssey, right?” he heard Harry say as he shut the kitchen door. “And he is going to go out with Lily,” he added as Sirius laughed. “He’ll be pining over her the minute he sees her.”

...

The one habit James noted he had picked up as a parent was the ability to arrive on time. He thought this as he surveyed The Three Crowns from his booth, bemoaning the fact that no one else seemed to have developed this particular skill in the intervening years. Watching the rugby with Harry, Ginny and Sirius had been a tradition for years as was the fact that James always watched the first fifteen minutes by himself.

This Saturday wasn’t so bad, he thought, letting his eyes drift over to the back of the bar where they had been coming to rest more and more the longer he sat there. James didn’t know if it was because of Harry’s insistence earlier that week that he start dating but for some reason he could not stop staring at a girl with a book, a radiant smile and vivid red hair as she sat sipping her coffee.

He was beginning to feel inappropriate, watching her so intently but every so often, she’d smile at something she had read and James would feel his pulse quicken and a smile ghost over his own face. He’d force himself to stare down into his pint but when his self-control weakened, he’d look back up again and once or twice she’d been looking at him. The first time their eyes connected, he half forgot how to breathe, looked away quickly and inwardly wondered how his eighteen-year-old son was better around women than he was.

“You look like crap,” Sirius said as he appeared out of nowhere, sliding into the booth with a pint of Guinness.

“Thanks.”

“Are you ill?”

“I’m fine,” James responded, turning his glass in his hands and taking a second to phrase next question as Sirius watched the match. “Do you think I need to date?” he asked carefully.

“What?” Sirius snorted, looking down from the tv screen. “Is this about the sprog and his obsession with this librarian?”

“Maybe,” James said, his eyes drifting back over to the redhead.

Sirius followed his gaze and turned around in his seat to see what James was looking at.

“You want to date her?” he queried, grinning at James as James inwardly cursed Sirius’s eternal lack of subtlety.

The girl caught his eye again and James felt his stomach flutter. He looked away to smile weakly at Sirius.

“Oh God,” Sirius let out, rolling his eyes. “I don’t think I’m ready for pining Prongs again. I need at least three more pints.”

“I’m not pining,” James said lowly, worried she’d hear them, although that was completely unrealistic over the noise of the pub and the television. “She just…well, she’s…”

“What?”

“I can’t stop staring at her,” he admitted, as Sirius looked at him strangely. “It’s not that I haven’t found other women attractive but since Harry was born, I’ve never really…”

“Fancied anyone?” Sirius tried helpfully.

“…taken a second look,” James finished uncomfortably. “And now…now I can’t stop staring at her.”

Sirius continued to look at him with a strange look, until he sat back in his seat.

“You know, Harry was right, he really is best qualified to give out this kind of advice,” he said, taking a large gulp of Guinness.

“Do you think it’s because he was suggesting I date?”

“I don’t know,” Sirius shrugged, “maybe. Or maybe you just think she’s hot.”

“She’s beautiful,” James corrected softly, staring at her again.

“For fuck sake, Prongs,” Sirius groaned, hitting the table, “you haven’t even spoken to her yet and you’re already looking at her like she’s your long-lost love.”

“Who’s his long-lost love?” Ginny asked, appearing out of nowhere with Harry in tow, both of them in rugby shirts and both of them blocking James’s view.

“Minnie!” Sirius cried, patting the seat beside him, “how are you?”

“I thought you said the man-child was banished from pub rugby,” Ginny asked James dryly, taking the seat.

“He knows where we drink,” James advised her, “I tried distracting him with a chew toy but he followed me here.”

“Oi!” Sirius cried, glaring at James.

“Stop looking wounded, you deserve it,” Harry scolded Sirius.

“Now, who is Mr Potter’s long-lost love?” Ginny asked brightly, smiling at James.

“Harry, you promised she’d stop calling me that,” James muttered.

“Only after you promised you’d make him learn my name,” Ginny replied, elbowing Sirius. “Now, stop ignoring my question!”

“There’s some woman over there that your father is mooning over,” Sirius finally answered, snubbing James’s protests.

“Who?” Ginny asked, sounding delighted as she and Harry eagerly surveyed the pub.

“The redhead in the back. Green dress, book. Making your father weak at the knees, apparently.”

“Ask her out,” Harry said immediately, looking at the woman and then back to James.

“Harry…” James sighed, taking a second to glower at Sirius before letting his head hang forward.

“What?” the boy exclaimed, as Ginny smiled and took his hand. “You like her, right? Just go over there and say hello.”

“You should,” Ginny urged, nodding her head in tandem with Harry as James inwardly agreed with Sirius that sometimes they did look like eighty-year olds.

“Can we all please stop talking about Prongs and his boring love life and watch the goddamn match,” Sirius hissed, wincing at the tv screen. “Your stupid team is losing this match, Mitsy.”

“They’re your team too, you overgrown trust fund baby,” Ginny shot back pleasantly, “and they’re not losing anything, you just don’t understand anything about rugby tactics.”

Letting the sound of Ginny and Sirius’s playful arguing fade into the background as Harry went to get a drink, James moved his head slightly to see if the redhead was still sitting in the back of the bar. He hadn’t noticed her green dress until Sirius pointed it out but now he looked at her, the green stood out to him as much as her eyes. James smiled a little to himself, watching her casually playing with an errant piece of her hair which had fallen from its bun. He was starting to contemplate the possibility of maybe going over to speak to her when he jumped to noticed that Harry had gotten there before him. Unable to yelp in time to stop it, he broke out in a sweat properly this time as he watched the woman smile and turn to his son.

“Sirius, never have children,” James hissed hurriedly, somewhere hoping that his best friend would manage to salvage this situation without him having to do anything.

“Wh…” Sirius began to ask, turning around in his seat and then shaking his head when he saw what James was looking at. “He gets all this from Euphemia, you know. Hattie, tell your boyfriend to get back over here before Prongs dies of shame.”

Ginny was about to respond but lost her chance when the woman stood up and started walking with Harry back to their table, making James wonder if his heart was going to stop before they got there.

“You can tell your boyfriend he is grounded until his twenty-fifth birthday,” James spat, feeling his right-hand drift to his hair, helpless to stop it as Ginny ignored him.

“Hi,” Ginny said brightly to the pair as they reached the booth, all three of them smiling as James wondered how bright red his face was.

“Hi, rocket,” the woman replied, grinning down at Ginny and gripping her by the shoulder. “You playing tomorrow?”

“Yup,” Ginny answered, “can’t wait. I want five tries or more. Nothing less.”

The woman laughed. “Your girlfriend is fierce, Potter,” she said to Harry, whacking him on the shoulder.

“I know,” Harry smiled, “by the way, have you met my Dad? Dad, this is Lily Evans. Lily, this is my dad, James.”

Ignoring what he knew was certainly going to be a long conversation with his son later, James felt his mouth go dry as her vivid green eyes turned to him and she smiled gently. “Hi.”

“I’m not married,” was the first thing that came out of his mouth.

All of a sudden, James couldn’t hear anything other than the sound of Sirius snorting into his Guinness and howling with laughter.

“That was….fantastic,” Sirius snickered between breaths, banging the table with his fist and still coughing up his drink.

“Um…okay…,” Lily replied, a half smile ghosting over her face. James’s eyes drifted from Ginny and Harry’s delighted faces back over to Lily’s. She was now starting to smile fully and James couldn’t help but feel a smile creep onto his own, embarrassed face.

“For the record, neither is she,” Harry said triumphantly, sitting down next to James again and giving him a knowing look.

“Subtle, kid,” Lily smirked, now the only one standing as Ginny sat down too.

“Join us, Lil’,” Ginny invited, patting the seat next to her and shoving a disgruntled Sirius over to the corner of the booth. “Come sit in the non-married booth.”

Rolling her eyes, Lily slid in next to Ginny, nudging her in the side.

“You are a carbon copy of your father, Potter,” she said, eyes darting between them both as James felt his hand go to his hair again, causing Lily to smile once more.

“No,” Harry replied, shaking his head, “not at all. I have a girlfriend. My father is single.”

Lily met James’s eyes, both of them now grinning.

“I think I heard that somewhere,” Lily breathed, blushing lightly which didn’t help James at all.

“I would like to apologise on behalf of my son,” James tried steadily, wincing at the sound of his own ridiculous voice as it came out. “He thinks he’s helping, but he’s not.”

“Not helping would be pointing out that you’ve been single for 18 years,” Sirius added, smirking at James. “Sirius Black,” he went on to Lily, “I’m single but not interested.”

“Trust me when I say she doesn’t care,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes. “Did you know James raised Harry all by himself, Lily,” she continued, now grinning along with Harry.

“I did know that,” Lily nodded, looking again at James who held onto his right hand with his left to stop it from leaping to his hair. “You mentioned that when you brought Harry and his dad up two nights ago,” she said, now smiling meaningfully at Harry. “There seem to be a plan here,” she finished to James.

“I’m starting to get that sense myself,” James responded, trying to look annoyed at his son but failing miserably – he was starting to rather like this plan. “You’re a lot more troublesome than I was as a teenager,” he added to Harry, ignoring Sirius’s snickers of disbelief in the background.

“Maybe you two should grab a drink sometime to discuss the failing youth of today,” Ginny suggested helpfully. “Or why don’t you come to the match tomorrow?”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Lily said, causing the smile to fall off James’s face before he could figure out a way to agree with Ginny without seeming too eager.

“What? Why not?” Ginny retorted, sounding outraged as James became very quickly aware of how small the booth was.

“Oh, don’t look so put out,” Lily said dismissively, looking from Harry to Ginny. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“Yeah, it isn’t,” Sirius chimed in, “Moony said she was smart but if she doesn’t want to go out with Prongs, she’s an idiot and he doesn’t need her.”

“Sirius,” James warned, unable to apologise before Lily cut in.

“I’m not going to go out with someone who has stood me up already,” Lily said lightly, as all four heads in the booth snapped to look at her at once.

“What?” James and Harry asked at the same time. “He stood you up?” Harry asked, this time by himself, already glaring at James.

“No!” James replied before Lily could, turning to her, his face creased with confusion. “I’ve never…”

“You know, you’re a lot like your mother, Rocket,” Lily interrupted, smiling at Ginny. “And you’re definitely not the first person who has thought that James and I should date,” she went on, now turning to grin victoriously at James. “I have very vivid recollections of Molly Weasley emphatically detailing your every virtue as well as saying, ‘he’s raising Harry on his own, Lily!’,” she chuckled.

“Mum tried to set you up?” Ginny asked faintly, as Lily nodded.

For reasons he was trying to ignore, James felt severely uncomfortable with the idea that Lily wouldn’t go out with him through some misunderstanding. He was about to speak up on his own behalf when Sirius got there first.

“He hasn’t had a date in eighteen years,” Sirius droned, sounding unimpressed, “how is it possible that…”

“14 May 2007,” Lily cut in loudly, not bothering to look at Sirius. “We were supposed to meet for drinks in Newington Green because it was near where you lived: some pub opposite...”

“…the green,” James inserted faintly, feeling his memory come flooding back to him. As realisation crossed his face, Lily smiled wryly. “Oh my God,” he said, sounding exactly as horrified as he felt, feeling the colour drain from his face.

“The Alma,” she remembered. “Molly said you liked it because it had good pub quizzes.”

“It did,” Sirius said, clearly taking the opportunity to speak because words were failing James. “We went every Thursday. Why didn’t you tell me you had a date?”

“Why didn’t you show up is the more important question?” Harry put in, continuing to glare at James in the way that only disappointed children can.

“I…I…,” James stuttered, trying to remember back to his thought processes that night, “I can’t really remember,” he said, as Harry rolled his eyes. “I only…vaguely…remember not wanting to leave you.”

“That’s your excuse?” Harry retorted dramatically.

“It’s a pretty good one, kid,” Lily said, drawing Harry’s attention and ire away from James. “Well, it’s a good one for not wanting to go out on a date,” she reassessed, “you still could have called,” she added, smirking again at James.

“I definitely should have called,” James replied, leaning forward earnestly. “I am really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Lily stated charitably as Harry snorted, “really it is. I had a few drinks, ate and went home with the barman,” she smiled, effortlessly lightening the mood as Ginny giggled.

“Really?”

“Really. We went out for 6 months,” she laughed, “it’s the reason I remember the date I was stood up. If I wanted to blame the whole wretched relationship on you I could, I suppose,” she mused humorously, looking at James.

“Lily, on behalf of my father, I would like to apologise,” Harry said solemnly, mimicking his father.

“You don’t have to, I’ve already done that,” James said quickly, before turning to Lily again, “really, I am. Sorry. I was an idiot. There’s no excuse.”

“James, it’s fine,” Lily replied, focusing on him so completely with those green eyes of hers that James had to take a deep breath. “Give your dad a break, Potter,” she said to Harry. “Everyone is stupid in their early twenties…apart from you and the missus obviously.”

“Well then you give him a break,” Sirius mumbled as James kicked him under the table. “Give him another chance and go out with him.”

Lily laughed, shaking her head and turned to James, “you know that is officially the third person to ask me out on your behalf.”

“Eh….yeah….I can see that,” James said, feeling himself go red again.

“He doesn’t have a lot of experience asking girls out,” Sirius put in helpfully.

“He really doesn’t,” Harry confirmed to Lily earnestly.

“If it helps, you’re the first girl I’ve wanted to ask out in 17 years,” James added quietly, trying to pretend that he and Lily were the only two people at the table. She smiled in such a pretty way, his stomach flip-flopped, and he was forced to stare at the table.

“That was a pretty decent line for someone who’s been out of the game so long,” Lily replied, sounding far more sensible than James although he noted she now blushing again.

“Ask her out,” Ginny hissed unsubtly across the table, causing everyone to laugh.

“Could I maybe take you to dinner?” James tried, feeling relieved as Lily continued to smile.

“Sure,” Lily said with a small nod of her head, “as long as you’re planning to show up this time.”

“Trust me, he is,” Sirius confirmed, “He’s free every Saturday for the next ten years. Pick one that suits you and he’ll be there.”

“Here,” Lily said, scribbling on a napkin and then handing it to James, “that’s my number. Call me and we’ll arrange a date,” she stood up, and turned to Harry and Ginny, “and nice wing-manning, you two. You did nothing to help,” she said pleasantly to Sirius finally before walking away.

“See,” Harry said to James, nudging him once more. “She can put up with Sirius. She’s made for you!”

...

“Do not wear that stupid patterned shirt that you think looks nice,” James heard his son yell up the stairs.

“I can get dressed by myself, thank you,” James yelled back, throwing down the patterned shirt and making his way back to the wardrobe, now knowing why he hadn’t bothered to date in eighteen years. The sick feeling in his stomach wasn’t one he was used to but if felt like a snake was slithering around his innards. He didn’t know how he was going to finish a meal never mind make witty conversation.

“Something white, Prongs,” Remus suggested, also yelling up the stairs. “Wear a white shirt and some form of jacket.”

“How do you know what he should wear?” he heard Sirius query derisively.

“I’m reliably informed by my female colleagues that when going on a date one should always try to look like James Bond.”

“Are you planning to feed my son at all this evening or do I need to call mum?” James yelled back, picking out the one white-ish shirt that he possessed and wondering if the only formal jacket he owned was his old school blazer.

“He’s eating cereal out of the box, does that not count?” Sirius asked.

“We’re ordering pizza at mine later,” Remus supplied, just as James was about to yell back. “The black jacket Harry wore to his formal last year is still in his wardrobe, it’d probably fit you.”

“Thanks,” James replied hesitantly, throwing on the white shirt and wandering into Harry’s room to rifle through his wardrobe. He jumped when he felt a hand fall on his shoulder.

“You’re going to be fine,” Remus reassured, moving over to Harry’s bed to sit down.

“I don’t know about that,” James half-laughed, pulling hangers apart. “I never learned how to do this bit. I was too busy learning how to put on nappies.”

“I spoke to Molly earlier this week,” Remus replied, as James found the jacket. “She couldn’t have been nicer about Lily. She doesn’t sound like the kind to put you through the ringer. Plus, she knows it’s your first date in a while…”

“I doubt she forgot when Sirius and Harry were reminding her every two minutes,” James cut in grumpily.

“…so I think you’ll get a bit of leeway if you do anything stupid.”

“Like what?”

“Like propose.”

James laughed, turning to look at himself in the mirror. “You know, when Harry had his first date with Ginny, I told him it was going to be easy and he shouldn’t worry. Clearly, I was an idiot.”

“Clearly, you were right. They’ve been together for a year. Sounds like their first date went well.”

“Why did I say I’d do this?” James moaned, throwing himself down on the bed beside Remus. “There is no way I’m not going to make an idiot out of myself. When I look at her, I can’t think properly. I can’t talk like a normal person…”

“You’ve been texting this week, haven’t you?”

“A bit,” James admitted, “she’s much better at this whole flirting thing than I am too,” he said, pulling out his phone and passing it to Remus.

“She likes you,” he grinned, scrolling through the messages.

“I have no idea why,” James replied, grabbing his phone back and looking at his own messages. “I text like someone in their fifties. I remind me of my mother. I should’ve watched more of that Love Island thing Sirius was obsessed with. I might have learned something.”

“You text fine, you don’t have to be like a reality tv contestant, you can just be yourself,” Remus said, patting him on the back again. “Molly says she thinks you’re charming.”

James felt his eyebrows leap up into his hair, “she does?”

“According to Molly,” Remus smiled, “so you must have done something right at the Crown.”

“Moony, hurry up, he has to leave in five,” Sirius screeched from downstairs, as Remus threw his eyes up to heaven and they both got up.

“Will you tip the delivery guy this time,” James asked Remus as they made their way downstairs, “they add half an hour to my delivery time every time you don’t.”

“Yes, I will,” Remus droned, shuffling down the stairs behind him. “I also won’t let Sirius answer the door, will make sure we put out any fires before tweeting about them, lock the door before we leave and only let Harry have two beers, not five.”

“So basically, you’re going to make this the dullest evening ever,” Sirius greeted them with Harry in tow, both of them eating out of the same box of cereal.

“I am leaving now,” James said, ignoring them.

“Oh!” Harry said, shoving the box of cereal towards Sirius. “Here,” he went on, stuffing his hand into his back pocket and pulling out a condom. “I’m staying at Remus’s tonight. Be safe. Last thing you want is an unexpected pregnancy.”

“Brilliant,” James said dryly, pushing Harry’s hand away and going towards the door. “I will be coming home tonight, so you don’t need to stay at Remus’s,” James advised.

“I’ve been waiting my entire life to make that joke,” he heard Harry say to Sirius as he shut the front door.

...

As he walked to the restaurant he had suggested, James was glad he had picked one that he could get to on foot. For one, the cold air was helping to calm his nerves and cool him down and for another, it meant he caught sight of Lily standing outside of the trattoria, leaning against the wall, before she saw him. That gave him the opportunity to acknowledge how amazing she looked before he actually had to talk to her. She was wearing some floaty white dress with pink flowers and birds on it that somehow helped her to look unreasonably pretty. She had a leather jacket on over that made James think Sirius would probably approve after all.

Taking a deep breath to ready himself, James ruffled his hair and walked up to her with what he hoped was a normal smile. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Lily replied brightly. “You’re here.”

“Yes,” James laughed, “I made it this time. Is that why you’re standing outside?”

“Yup,” she grinned, “I didn’t fancy sitting at a table by myself for an hour whilst the waiters looked at me like I was pathetic. At least this way, I could make sure you showed up.”

“Eh, yeah…have I apologised for that?”

“Twice,” Lily said, “so I think three times would be overkill. Shall we go in?”

Managing to open the door for Lily, ask for their table and seat himself all without saying anything stupid, James opened his menu when Lily did likewise.

“This all looks great,” she hummed, as James took a second to appreciate the sight of her swooning over the menu. “Good choice.”

“Sirius approves of their Bolognese, so I figured it was a safe bet,” James agreed, mentally taking note of the food he could eat without looking ridiculous.

“Molly said you cook for them all quite a bit,” Lily half-asked, still looking downwards.

“Yeah,” James replied, “Sirius and Remus sort of live with me and Harry, except when they decide not to. I think you know Remus? He said he met you a couple of years ago?”

“At Arthur’s birthday,” Lily nodded, setting her menu down. “Seemed a little shy at first but by the end of the night…”

“…you realised that was an act and he’s the worst prankster you’ve ever met?”

“Yes!” Lily said excitedly, smiling widely. “He put shaving foam behind all of Molly’s door handles.”

“I love watching people figure out that Remus is completely evil,” James grinned back. “Everyone thinks he’s this shy, principled teacher the first time they meet him. Then he rips the last pages out of the books they’re reading and they figure out his true nature quickly.”

“He does not do that!” Lily hissed, looking genuinely horrified.

“I’m sorry to say it’s true,” James replied sorrowfully. “For two years, I thought Sirius was ruining all my books and he thought it was me doing it to him, and then one day we went to Remus’s house and he had papered the bathroom with the pages of all the books he’d defaced.”

“What did you do?” Lily asked, attention rapt.

“I think Sirius called him his hero and swore fealty to him on the spot,” James tried to recall. “We had just finished watching Game of Thrones,” he clarified.

“I find all of this offensive as a librarian,” Lily stated firmly, shaking her head. “I’m going to have to reprimand Ginny. She cannot call him her favourite teacher when this is how he behaves.”

“Harry says you met him at Arthur’s party too?”

“Yeah,” Lily smiled, “he was lovely. Cleared the table with Molly and got everyone drinks the whole night. Very mannerly.”

“That’s all my mother,” James clarified hastily. “She loves Ginny, she’s determined they’re getting married and that Harry is going to impress his in-laws.”

Lily laughed out loud as the waiter appeared and took their order.

“So, you know a lot about me from Harry and Ginny and Molly,” James began again, starting to feel more relaxed as Lily smirked. “What about you? Any crazy friends who live with you or children who act like the parent?”

“None,” she replied, “although I do have several crazy friends. They like to show up to the library, sneak in bottles of wine and get drunk while I work. Then they complain about the service.”

“That might just beat Sirius and Remus,” James laughed, “although do not tell Sirius about that or he’ll be with your friends next time you’re working.”

“They’re great really,” Lily said happily. “I’d be lost without Mary. I was given seven outfit choices for this evening and then told which one to pick.”

“Well, Mary has great taste. You look beautiful,” James tried, hoping that the line that sounded romantic in his head actually came out that way.

Lily gave him a stunning smile for his efforts. “I’ll let her know,” she said as the waiter arrived to bring over some water and take their orders.

“So, is Harry happy that you’re finally on a date?” she asked after the waiter had left.

“Delighted,” James confirmed.

“He and Ginny seemed to be very interested in your love life.”

“I think he’s just worried about going off to university and leaving me alone,” James said, inwardly wincing at how feeble he sounded.

“That’s quite cute,” Lily replied sincerely. “That’s a good son you’ve raised all by yourself.”

James grinned, “I definitely didn’t raise him ‘all by myself’. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without a lot of help from my parents. And Remus and Sirius as well. But he’s turned out pretty great, even if it is me saying that.”

“Is it okay to ask about his mum?” Lily queried, somewhat nervously.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “it is. She’s a photographer, travels a lot. Harry sees her when she’s in England. Most of the time, she lives in Amsterdam.”

“How long has he lived with you?”

“Since he was about one,” James said, knowing he was getting into uncomfortable territory but deciding it was better to tell the story now. “I knew from when he was born that I wanted to take care of him and after a while, his mum wasn’t really handling the responsibility so well. Which was fine. She wanted to go to uni and all of that. I wanted to stay home with Harry. So, I spoke to my mum and we all decided Harry would live with us.”

“How did you meet her?” Lily continued, still sounding unsure of herself.

“In school,” James said. “We didn’t really date,” he went on steadily, “just sorted of bonded over Pokemon Blue and then were a bit stupid.”

“A bit?” Lily said incredulously, “I can’t believe you even bothered with blue, yellow was the only one worth playing.”

“Yellow wasn’t out until 2000 and I was already hooked on Blue by then,” James corrected confidently, smiling when Lily looked impressed rather than repulsed.

“That is some serious nerd knowledge,” Lily marvelled, looking at him in such a way that he ruffled his hair again, inwardly hating himself. “Do you still play?”

“Not at all,” James obviously lied, “I’m a grown-up man who isn’t in any way addicted to Pokemon Go.”

“Brilliant,” Lily laughed, “Ginny told me about this.”

“About what?” he asked, as the waiter arrived with their food.

“About the videogames, the D&D, the board game café…”

“In my defence, I like rugby as well,” James tried, looking down at his plate.

“Oh, she told me about the rugby coaching and pub rugby too,” Lily smiled, startling James when she reached across the table to take his hand. “But it was the nerd thing I liked best.”

“It was?” James asked, hoping his hand wasn’t too clammy.

“Yeah,” Lily nodded, a bit bashfully, “librarian, remember?” she said, gesturing to herself.

“Is that why you decided to give me a second chance?”

Lily smiled and shook her head. “No, I gave you a second chance because you’re really hot.”

James couldn’t hold back the disbelieving laugh he let out.

“You are!” Lily insisted, squeezing his hand before she let it go. “And…you know…the good father thing helps too.”

“It does?” he checked, as Lily grinned in a way that James found particularly alluring.

“Yes,” she confirmed, “your love for your son somehow makes you hotter. I have no idea why. Now, ask me about my book collection. As a nerd, you’re about to find me unbearably hot.”

...

Over the rest of dinner, Lily revealed herself to be pretty much the perfect woman, save for her preference for Charmander as a starter Pokemon. What James still couldn’t believe was that everything she said indicated that she was an in to him as he was to her. He didn’t know what he was doing to make her feel this way but no matter how stupid or ridiculous he sounded to himself, Lily laughed, smiled and flirted her way through the rest of the night. Still putting James’s flirting skills to shame but at least giving him the confidence to relax a bit more and think that maybe she might go out with him a second time.

However, no matter how relaxed he was by the end of the night, nothing prepared James for the shock of her trying to kiss him.

“Are you okay?” she giggled, as he jumped when she moved in closer to him after they had walked away from the restaurant.

“Eh…yeah,” James breathed, feeling once more like an idiot but taking both Lily’s hands and pulling her closer again. “I wasn’t expecting you to do that.”

“I keep forgetting you’re new at this,” Lily said quietly, moving towards him easily.

“So, I kiss you now,” he confirmed, as Lily nodded with a small laugh.

“Yes,” she murmured, kissing him first.

Kissing Lily and feeling her press up against him after a full week of day-dreaming about her was the best wish fulfilment James could have hoped for. It made him forget all his concerns that he didn’t have a clue what he was doing, emptying his head of all thoughts but her and how amazing she was.

“Would you maybe like to do this again sometime?” James blurted out as Lily pulled away, keeping her arms looped around his neck.

Lily laughed again.

“James, this is the part where you try to get me to go home with you.”

“I do?” he responded, causing her to laugh harder.

“Yeah,” she confirmed, nudging her nose against his. “If it helps, you won’t have to try that hard.”

Ignoring the twisting in his stomach, James smiled, “fancy seeing my video game collection?”

...

James was busy making scrambled eggs when he heard the front door open and close behind him.

“Hey,” he said to Harry and Sirius as they ambled into the kitchen.

“As you can see, he’s still alive and only has a minor hangover,” Sirius announced, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

“How’d it go last night?” Harry said immediately as James looked at him.

“Good,” James replied, trying to hide his smile. “We had a nice time.”

“Good,” Harry repeated, evidently happy though sounding slightly surprised.

“Didn’t bring her home though,” Sirius mocked, elbowing Harry.

“I didn’t expect him to,” Harry condescended, folding his arms. “Doesn’t matter, means I can make that condom joke another couple of times.”

“That’s if she’ll see him again,” Sirius put in, lowering himself into a chair. “She might just’ve said it went well to not hurt his feelings. Did she actually laugh at dinner or was she pity laughing, Prongs?”

James was saved the trouble of responding as Lily strode into the kitchen, silencing Harry and Sirius in the middle of their chuckles.

“I don’t pity laugh,” she said, not looking at either of them and walking over to James, hair still wet from the shower, his shirt looking better on her than it ever did on him. “Do you have a hair dryer?” she asked, moving her arms around his neck and pressing a kiss against his cheek.

“Yeah,” he smiled, thoroughly enjoying the stunned looks on Harry and Sirius’s faces. “Sirius’s from when he lived here. It’s in the closet in the bathroom.”

“Thanks,” she said, giving him another kiss, “I’ll be down in a minute. Don’t let Sirius eat all my breakfast,” she added, leaving with a smirk.

“There isn’t breakfast for anyone other than me and you,” James said after her, turning back to the stove.

“What?” Sirius yelped, finally finding the words to speak.

“You have to feed me, I’m your child!” Harry protested.

“How long is it before you bugger off to uni again?” James asked, ladling the scrambled eggs onto two plates with toast.

“Hey!” Harry objected, somehow managing to sound half-pleased.

“We’re eating upstairs,” James decided, lifting the plates and cutlery, “Harry, if Sirius won’t feed you, call your grandmother or Ginny or Remus or someone.”

Ignoring Harry’s protests, James climbed the stairs, smiling as he heard Lily singing from above.

“Oi, Evans” he called, “breakfast is ready.”

#jily #jily fanfiction #hinny #harry potter #single dad au #singledad!james #jily au #i am so nervous #ahhhhh

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harp-playing-goat · 6 years ago

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Bold the statements that apply to you!

I was tagged by @theclosetpianist (many thanks and many hugs your way)

I tag @sparklebabyadore and @suckedintomusic (many hugs to yous too)

APPEARANCE

I am over 5′5″ /I wear glasses/contacts / I have blond hair / I wear sweatshirts a lot/ I prefer loose clothing to tight clothing / I have one or more piercings / I have at least one tattoo / I have blue eyes / I have dyed or highlighted my hair / I have gotten plastic surgery / I have or had braces / I sunburn easily / I have freckles / I paint my nails (whenever I’m not working for 2+ days because I respect food’s health and safety regulations ) / I typically wear makeup / I don’t often smile / I am pleased with how I look / I prefer Nike to Adidas / I wear baseball hats backwards

HOBBIES AND TALENTS

I play a sport (At least I did play Netball up until I broke my Jaw but since haven’t been able to play on my old team)/ I can play an instrument / I am artistic (only musically) / I know more than one language (Nat 5 French bois) / I have won a trophy in some sort of competition (Haha i actually won a long distance running because I was the only Girl running it) / I can cook or bake without a recipe / I know how to swim / I enjoy writing / I can do origami / I prefer movies to TV shows / I can execute a perfect somersault / I enjoy singing / I could survive in the wild on my own / I have read a new book series this year / I enjoy spending time with friends / I travel during school or work breaks / I can do a handstand

EXPERIENCES

I have had my first kiss / I have gotten drunk / I have told a crush I like them/ I have traveled outside of the country / I have flown on an airplane / I have stayed awake for more than 48 hours / I have had a near-death experience / I have caught something on fire / I have performed in a talent show / I have shot a gun / I have been on TV (Only on Sports games though, a Netball documentary as a fan and the england/Scotland rugby match) / I have gone scuba diving / I have broken a bone (What a funny Story) / I have slow-danced / I have gone on a shopping spree

RELATIONSHIPS

I am in a relationship / I have been single for over a year (I’ve been single since I was born) / I have a crush / I have a best friend / I have known a friend for over ten years / My parents are together / I have a brother (Well 2 of them) / I have dated my best friend / I am adopted / My crush has confessed to me / I have had a long-distance relationship / I am an only child / I give advice to my friends / I have made an online friend / I met up with someone I have met online

AESTHETICS

I have heard the ocean in a conch shell / I have watched the sun rise / I enjoy rainy days / I have slept under the stars / I meditate outside / The sound of chirping calms me / I enjoy the smell of the beach / I know what snow tastes like / I listen to music to fall asleep / I enjoy thunderstorms / I enjoy cloud watching / I have attended a bonfire / I pay close attention to colours / I find mystery in the ocean / I enjoy hiking on nature paths / Autumn is my favourite season

MISCELLANEOUS

I can fall asleep in a moving vehicle / I am the mom friend (My friends mams love me?) / I live by a certain quote / I like the smell of sharpies / I am involved in extracurricular activities / I enjoy Mexican food / I can drive stick-shift / I have memorized an entire song in a day / I believe in true love / I dream up scenarios to fall asleep / I sing in the shower / I wish I lived in a video game / I have a canopy above my bed / I am multi-racial / I am a redhead / I own at least three dogs / I am LGBT

#thank you #I hope you enjoyed reading my extra information #feel free to message if youre interested or just want some dog pictures #i have many

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wazafam · 4 years ago

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Ross is famously unlucky in love in Friends - and while his on-again, off-again romance with Rachel takes central stage, he has plenty of other major relationships over the course of the show. Emily is, of course, one of the biggest - and one of the three women that he marries (and divorces!), after a whirlwind romance. Introduced to Ross by Rachel (ironically enough), the two go from an inauspicious first date to a B&B in Vermont, to marriage at breakneck speed - but they were never going to last.

RELATED: The 10 Biggest Arguments On Friends, Ranked

Starting when Ross "accidentally" says Rachel's name at the altar during their wedding, things go rapidly downhill for Ross and Emily. Emily runs out on the wedding reception, then refuses to talk to Ross, and then asks him to never see Rachel again (which he says he will do, and then continues to see her anyway). In the end, it's no surprise they got divorced, and it was clear from the start that they were never going to last.

10 She's Extremely High Maintenance

Ross isn't particularly laid-back himself, but Emily shows from the start that she struggles to deal with difficult situations or control her emotions, and that's rarely a good sign for a relationship. When the two first meet, Emily has admittedly been having a tough day, but when Ross starts to tell her that Rachel isn't available that night (and he'll be going out with her instead) she snaps at him and is incredibly rude about it. Later, when she sees that her ideal venue for wedding is being torn down, she throws a tantrum and threatens to call the whole wedding off!

9 They Live In Different Countries

This isn't always a dealbreaker, but it's a pretty difficult thing to get past, especially for someone like Ross, who has to stay in New York because he has a child there (and Carol and Susan aren't willing to move). Emily was only visiting New York, which meant that they just didn't have enough time to get to know each other slowly - perhaps if she had lived there, things could have been different, but this should have just been a holiday romance.

8 She Was Already Dating Colin

Something that often gets forgotten is that Emily was actually dating someone when she met Ross - an unseen character named Colin. She quickly realizes that she is falling for Ross and ends things, but it's definitely a worrying sign that their first 'magical' weekend together was actually her cheating on her boyfriend with a man she just met. Given that Ross has his own issues with fidelity, this was not a recipe for a solid relationship.

7 The Friends Hated Emily...

While Ross was besotted with Emily, none of the rest of the gang really liked her - and with good reason. She made a terrible first impression, and then no one had much of a chance to get to know her.

RELATED: 10 Storylines Friends Dropped

Instead, they just saw Ross falling head over heels with a relative stranger. None of them really supported the wedding, and at the end of the day, it matters that someone's partner gets along with their friends, especially when the friends are as close as Ross and his gang.

6 ...And Ross Didn't Fit In With Emily's Friends, Either

It wasn't just Emily who struggled to fit in with Ross's friends, Ross didn't exactly fit with Emily's friends, either. When he attempted to play rugby with some of her friends, he gets absolutely destroyed, and physically injured - not to mention making a fool out of himself and failing to actually connect. It's hard to see these two in a long relationship that involves spending a lot of time with each other's social circles.

5 They Didn't Have Much In Common

Perhaps one of the reasons that these two didn't get along with each other's friends is that they didn't seem to actually have anything in common. She's not explored as a character in any real depth in the show, and things like her profession and hobbies are pretty much unknown - but they are definitely not mentioned as similar to Ross's. The few things that fans do learn about her preferences, though, (like her love of Rugby) don't match up with Ross's hobbies at all.

4 They Moved Way Too Fast

Definitely one of the most obvious red flags was the speed at which their relationship moved. A first date (that wasn't even intended to be a romantic date) became a weekend away together, which became a long-distance relationship and engagement in only a few weeks!

RELATED: HIMYM Meets Friends: 5 Friendships That Would Work (& 5 That Wouldn't)

While there's something romantic about a speedy romance, this was so fast it was raising red flags with the other friends, too.

3 They Were Fighting From The Moment They First Met

While Ross and Emily were occasionally shown being loving toward each other, they spent a worrying amount of their time on-screen fighting. Their first meeting saw Ross unenthusiastic and Emily angry, and they battled about everything from how important the wedding was to Rachel's presence in his life. Fights may be a normal part of a relationship, but this many intense fights in only a few weeks is just too much.

2 Emily Was Intensely Jealous Of Rachel

Emily having some issues with Rachel does make sense, after Ross said her name at their wedding! However, Emily takes things far too far when she and Ross are talking about patching things up. Asking him to cut someone out of his life is extreme, especially when she is his sister's best friend and roommate. On a practical level, that would make things near-impossible. Then asking him to throw out all the furniture he owned, and literally anything in his apartment that Rachel may have even touched is taking it to a whole new level of unreasonable.

1 Ross Was In Love With Rachel

The biggest issue, of course, is that Ross has been in love with Rachel since they were teenagers - and no one else was going to compare. The fact that he said Rachel's name at the wedding was proof enough, but it wasn't the only thing that made this obvious. Everyone could see that Ross was still pining over Rachel, and this was just a rebound that should never have become a marriage.

NEXT: The Main Characters Of Friends Ranked From Least To Most Likely To Win The Hunger Games

Friends: 10 Reasons Ross & Emily Were Doomed From The Start from https://ift.tt/3eARx2G

#Blogger

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theseaeaglelives · 4 years ago

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Round 4

THE SEA EAGLE

MAKING RUGBY LEAGUE GREAT AGAIN!!!

Round 4

Manly Sea Eagles 16

Defeated by

Parramatta Eels 19

Unable to watch this game live, The Sea Eagle has relied on a first-hand account of proceedings provided by a close associate in compiling this weeks report. This confidant, known simply as “The Fist”, with a penchant for German hardcore (who doesn’t), bleeds maroon and white and has little or no tolerance of refereeing incompetence.

According to The Fist, Manly were very slow to the uptake and early into the second half found themselves on the wrong end of an 18-2 scoreline. The Fist also reports that Manly were afforded little or no joy from matchday officials, with all the marginal calls seeming to go the way of the despised Eels.

Again, according to The Fist, just when it looked like a blow-out was on the cards (a’la the current Broncos, who incidentally Manly meet next week), Manly hit back, and hit back hard. Tries to Dylan “Not Guilty” Walker and a double to Horhay Taufua and with 4 minutes remaining Manly had reduced the deficit to 19-16. Manly were full of steam and coming home like a train.

It was then that The Fist went off deluxe, bemoaning a diabolical refereeing decision which prevented Manly stealing the most unlikely of wins in the last play of the game, when what appeared to be a fair pass from Tommy Turbo to Rueben Garrick was called forward “by the maggot with the flag in his hand”.

Not holding back wit his criticism, The Fist maintains that this was one of the worst refereeing performances that he has witnessed in his 50 odd years of following the game, and most certainty cost Manly a win against the old enemy.

The Sea Eagle thanks the Fist for his contribution this week but will refrain (as always) from criticising match day officials preferring instead to defer to the old adage of Rugby League 101, wherein the team with the most points at the end of the game is the winner, which in this fixture was the despised Eels. Credit to them and we look forward to payback when next we meet.

Moses Suli Stays at the Nest

https://www.foxsports.com.au/nrl/nrl-premiership/nrl-2020-moses-suli-rejects-dragons-with-new-manly-sea-eagles-contract-news-update/news-story/ca45fc9436c6b8eafa8e7c5a595e3a79

It was reported during the week that young gun centre, Moses Suli has recommitted to the Sea Eagle’s for a further two years after declining a big money offer from the Dragons – in the Sea Eagle’s opinion a no brainer of a decision.

Suli has chosen to stay at Manly, a club that has won 8 premierships since 1970 including one in every decade where he will continue to be mentored by master Coach Des Hasler. Under Hasler, young Suli (who was sacked by both the Tigers and Dogs) has transformed from being an overweight and undisciplined delinquent to becoming one of the most damaging centres in the competition, and has the potential to win premierships, and is now knocking on the door of rep honours.

Compare this to his likely lot in life had he have joined the rabble that is the Dragons, where the only honours on the horizon is the spoon, together with the privilege of being mentored by the only (following the sackings of Trent Barrett and Nathan Brown) non-premiership winning, DFI infected ex-Dragon coach remaining in the NRL ranks.

Let’s face it, being a non-premiership winning, DFI infected ex-Dragon is hardly a recipe for coaching success. One only has to consider the ill-feted Trent Barrett debacle at Manly during which the only good thing to come of it were clean training facilities. Newcastle too, are now reaping the rewards of ridding themselves of a non-premiership winning, DFI infected ex-Dragon coach, and under new management find themselves undefeated in season 2020.

Given the money thrown at him by the Dragons, it is likely that young Suli was tempted, but full marks to the young man for recognising what many over the years have not – that being they never (ever) go any better when they leave the nest. Using what is quick becoming the Sea Eagle’s new mantra, in the words of autoexpert.com.au John Cadogan, this decision will make young Suli’s life significantly less sh&it.

The litany of examples supporting the Sea Eagles assertions about never going better when they leave the nest, have been well documented, but as is the case every year let us put out another reminder for those (like young Suli) who are considering a move to other rugby league pastures.

Bob Fulton – Bozo, a Manly legend, premiership winner as a player (at Manly) thought the grass was greener at Bondi, however after an unsuccessful stint with the Latte sippers returned to Manly where he won 2 premierships as a coach (with 5 GF appearances as coach) and ultimately became a rugby league immortal. As he should be. What a player he was!

Paul Vautin – premiership winning captain at Manly. Unlike Fulton, The Fat was shown the door at Manly, at the time deemed to be too old and too slow and thought he could prolong his career at the Roosters. Poor old Fat ended up warming the bench for reserve grade, before returning to Manly as at one stage being elected Club Chairman and is now a Life member. As he should be. What a player he was!

Ron Gibbs – after leading the pack to premiership glory in 1987, Rambo Ronnie sought greener pastures at the Gold Coast – no further comment necessary.

Mathew Ridge – champion fullback and a premiership winner at Manly who returned to his native New Zealand to join the Warriors – again no further comment necessary.

Kieran Foran – a recent poster boy for the syndrome, when after tasting premiership glory at Manly took the big money on offer from the Eels. After a disastrous stint at the Eels, where it was alleged that he was living in less than suitable circumstances (the Sea Eagle cannot confirm or deny this but it is well documented rumour), Foran’s career has been marred by injury and poor form at both the Warriors and Dogs.

Anthony Watmough – like Foran, another poster boy. A multiple premiership winner at Manly, Choc spat the dummy and went to the Eels and after playing only a handful of games was forced to retire due to poor form and injury. He probably burnt every bridge he had at Manly for a career after footy. No further comment necessary.

Glenn Stewart – premiership winner and Clive Churchill medal winner at Manly, and who will ever forget his performance in the infamous Brookvale Brawl where he was front and centre in taking on the filthy wrestlers. A bit like Fatty, was shown the door for being too old and injury prone and ended up at the Bunnies where he had very little game time due to being too old and injury prone. Unlike Choc, he has been welcomed back to the nest and is a regular fixture at Manly home games. As he should be. What a player he was!

Tony Williams – one of the laziest players ever to don a jersey, somehow managed to jag a premiership with Manly before joining the Dogs and never being seen of or heard from again.

Will Hoppa (Hopoate)– premiership winner in his rookie season at Manly, when he played state of origin, and looked as good as Tommy Turbo looks now. Has since became a moderate performer at both the Eels and Dogs.

Craig Field – currently serving 10 years in gaol for manslaughter – no further comment necessary.

John Hoppa (Hopoate) – premiership winner at Manly but now only remembered for sticking his finger where the sun doesn’t shine at the Tigers.

Jamie Buhrer – a premiership winner at Manly who then went to the Knights where his career was marred by injury and the unfortunate distinction of playing under a non-premiership winning, DFI infected ex-Dragon coach.

The Sea Eagle is however prepared to concede that there are but three examples who buck the trend. Jarrod Warea-Hargreaves, Matt Nable, and Clint “Gutho” Gutherson. The consistent trend here is that none of them were established first graders when they left.

Jarrod Warea-Hargreaves, who was squeezed out of a (at the time) star studded Manly pack due to salary cap restrictions, joined the Roosters and is now a multiple premiership winner and their forward leader (and a fine, fine player indeed).

Matt Nable, who after leaving Manly went on to forge a successful acting career with prominent roles in the likes of Hacksaw Ridge, Riddick, Underbelly and the rugby league classic The Final Winter.

And finally, Clint “Gutho” Gutherson, who went to the Eels and is now Captain. The jury is still out on this one. He has no premierships, but he can play, presumably the only reason he left is due to salary cap restrictions, because Manly felt Tommy Turbo who was blasting through the ranks at the time was a better option. No one can dispute the logic of that.

But he is at Parramatta, and for a Manly junior, one might argue this is hardly an improvement but the best that could be achieved in the circumstances.

China warns citizens not to travel to Australia - ABC News 6 June 2020

The Chinese Ministry of Culture and Tourism has issued an alert :

"The Ministry of Culture and Tourism reminds Chinese tourists to enhance their safety awareness and do not travel to Australia."

Asked whether he was concerned China's decision could damage relations with Australia, Opposition Leader Anthony Albanese said he wanted to send a "positive message"…"What I want is for everyone to know, regardless of where they are anywhere in the world, that Australia's a great place to visit," he said.

The latest developments it is suggested, will put further pressure on cash-strapped Australian universities and colleges, which are reeling in the wake of coronavirus travel restrictions.

Sea Eagle Comment:

News Flash- the Australian borders are shut, and international travel is unlikely to resume for at least a year or 18 months, at best, due to the President Trump described “China Virus”.

Is this a promise or another baseless threat from the Peoples Republic? We all know how to deal with threats. Call their bluff. Australia should do precisely that.

As for the impact on the university sector, who gives a flying F87ck. Australian universities have now so debased their degrees, they are nothing less than glorified sausage factories. In a way just like many fiat currencies of the world (including Australia) where money printing is rife, ie worthless, as they can always print out some more.

But don’t stop there. The Sea Eagle recommends and agrees with the People’s Republic view on these things, and encourages them to pass a law banning Chinese citizens coming to Australia so as to make good on their threat. This would then allow a plebiscite in response by Australia, like the one for gay marriage, with the simple question:

Do you think China banning their citizens coming to Australia, will make Australia “less sh(it”?

THE SEA EAGLE

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higherfeed · 5 years ago

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Lavender Fields, Bouillabaisse, and Calanques: The 4-Day Weekend in Marseille

You already have some understanding of Provence; it’s a fancy region in France, oui? Oui, that’s right. Provence is chic, since it includes the glitzy Riviera (think Nice, Cannes, Saint-Tropez). It’s not as wine-drenched as Bordeaux, Burgundy, or the Loire Valley, but in place of those vineyards are purple lavender fields that roll into oblivion. They also happen to be just a short drive from Marseille, Provence’s capital and largest city (and France’s second-largest after Paris). A vacation anchored in Marseille offers all sorts of sensory rewards: There’s the smell of lavender, outdone only by the savonneries—the famed soap makers. There’s the taste of tomato-fish bouillabaisse stew, swapped for ratatouille if you’re seafood-averse (or especially hungry), chased by French wines that may or may not be Provençal. There’s the blue Mediterranean expanse to savor as the sun warms your skin, though it’s best earned by hiking through the forested Calanques National Park. After your trek, you’ll settle into a walled-in calanque cove to soak up the natural beauty and isolation. ]] Inn-to-Inn by Bike in Southern France The city itself is restless, in a good way. It has the reputation of being grittier and more grounded than Paris—which is a compliment, really. There’s rarely a quiet moment in the Vieux Port, between the ferries to Count of Monte Cristo-inspired Chateau d’If, the aperitif crowd, and the late-night local revelers. It’s teeming with top-tier restaurants that don’t know how top-tier they are. The city is grounded and world-class, without the urge to show it off. Four days is not enough, in my opinion, given how much time you could spend exploring the region. But if that’s all the time you’ve got, here are the places to spend it.

Where to Stay in Marseille

]] Hotel Dieu—InterContinental Marseille: You really can’t miss seeing Hotel Dieu, just off the Vieux Port, acting like a palatial gateway to the old town. You might even mistake it for a royal palace, though it’s actually an 18th-century hospital that was operable until the early aughts. In 2013, it reopened as the InterContinental—Hotel Dieu, and is now one of the most luxurious homestays in Marseille. There’s the Michelin-starred Alcyone onsite, serving inventive Mediterranean fare, as well as the terraced cocktail bar Capian offering aerial views of Vieux Port and Notre-Dame de la Garde. As for the rooms, well, it’s an InterContinental after all; you get stately accommodations designed in mineral tones to match the city’s rocky coast. The icing on the cake is the onsite Clarins spa, fit with a warm indoor pool, experience showers, hammams, massage and spa treatments, and an adjacent fitness studio. Le Petit Nice Passedat: The 16-room Le Petit Nice Passedat offers 5-star luxury with views of the sea—and private terraces from which to take it all in. It’s connected to the 3-Michelin-star restaurant by the same name, serving eclectic regional seafood (get the Marseille favorite bouillabaisse fish stew multiple times in town, but order the deconstructed, reimagined version of it from the fixe prix menu). Both hotel and restaurant are passionate undertakings of noted chef Gérald Passédat. While you’re a couple miles from the city center, it’s no inconvenience given the day or two you’ll spend near the coast or daytripping from the city altogether.

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What to Do in Marseille

If you plan to hit the city’s key tourist attractions and want unlimited public transit access (in particular its bold-and-bright orange metro), then consider purchasing a Marseille Tourism Pass for intervals of 24, 48, or 72 hours (for 27, 37, or 43 euros, respectively). You can purchase it at various spots in Marseille: the Tourist Office and Convention Centre, La Capitainerie des Docks, Vieux-Port and Saint Charles metro stations, or Airport Information Office. Hike the Calanques: See “Day Trips” below. Vieux Port (Old Port): Marseille’s central bustle seems to swirl around the Vieux Port, a hotel- and restaurant-lined marina that stays boisterous at all hours of the day and night. You can nestle in for aperitif or a late-night bar crawl, stock up on soaps and market souvenirs, catch the boat to Chateau D’If, or marvel at religious relics like Saint Victor’s Abbey (5th century), or Saint-Ferréol les Augustins (15th century). ]] Going on an Outback Helicopter Pub Crawl Outside Darwin Buy soap: Since the 17th century, Marseille has been known for soap-making, and the city is still famous for its 72-percent-oil recipe. And because it’s more of a tradition than a reliable global export these days, Marseille soap makes for a terrific gift or souvenir from your travels. Save some room in your suitcase, and never mind if you have yet to appreciate this craft: You’ll have a hard time narrowing down which scents and shapes to bring home—and for next to nothing. (At the very least, you’ve got to get some lavender soap, since it’s Provence.) Stock up at these stores and makers: La Savonnerie Marseille, La Maison du Savon, Soap Factory — Le Serail, or The Marseille Soap Museum. Unité d’Habitation/Corbusier’s Radiant City: Le Corbusier’s architecture is characterized by the marriage of colorful expressionism with functional spaces, and this “Radiant City” apartment complex is one of the most famous structures. (It’s now a UNESCO World Heritage Site and French National Monument.) This residential complex largely influenced the brutalist movement and redefined urban living for its residents, thanks to symmetrically designed apartments and thoughtfully executed public spaces. Most notable is Le Corbusier’s use of color, which you’ll see from inside and out. Book an English tour while in town for an eye-opening tour at the complex, including a preserved apartment room. (The others are now inhabited by some of Marseille’s upper class. A pre-booked Saturday 10 a.m. tour is requisite for viewing, unless you otherwise visit the onsite cafe or stay in the onsite hotel. ]] Coastal R&R: Head to the coast for aperitifs, sunbathing, long walks on the cliff, romantic dinner views, and more. Just note that sandy beaches are few and far between and rather small, hence why most residents are totally fine lying out on the rocks. If you crave sand, point yourself to Plages du Prado, Plage du Prophete, Plage Borely, Plage de L’Estaque. If you want to relax under the sun on a reserved beach lounger, drink in hand, with a ladder into the big drink, then call one or two days ahead to Le Bistrot Plage, a restaurant and public beach club that will have you feeling like you’re at the Riviera, minus any absurd prices. 15 Beaches That Are Better in the Fall Chateau d’If and Frioul Archipelago: You might know this 16th-century army fortress as a key setting in The Count of Monte Cristo. Chateau d’If on the smallest island of the Frioul Archipelago, just two miles west of the city. Book a roundtrip ferry to and from the Old Port to the Chateau for a 45-minute tour (plus ferry travel time), and you can even hop off at Ratonneau, one of the larger of the Frioul Islands, for lunch or leisure, before returning to Marseille’s port. (Walk to the cozy but sandy Plage de Saint Estève from the Frioul Port if you want some snacks and beach time away from the city.) MuCEM and Villa Méditerranée: If you fancy some art, history, or both, then check out MuCEM, or the Museum of European and Mediterranean Civilizations, as well as the neighboring exhibition hall Villa Méditerranée. At the very least, take a walk to the end of the harbor where they reside, to gawk at their marvelous facades. ]] Cathédrale La Major: In stark contrast to the neighboring and aforementioned art museums, this massive 19th-century Byzantine-Roman-Revival–style cathedral is all-imposing. Off the Beaten Path: 27 Epic Views Every Hiker Should See Basilique Notre-Dame de la Garde: Marseille’s compass rose, if you will, this hilltop Catholic basilica can be seen from nearly everywhere in the city, and offers stunning panoramas for that same fact. Parc Borély: In a city not known for its parks, the 17-hectare Borély stands out as one of Marseille’s prettiest features. Catch some fresh air in its formal gardens, mosey across the promenade to the coast, or visit the neighboring botanic gardens. La Vieille Charité Cultural Center: History, culture, art, and performance come together at the 17th-century grounds of La Vieille, in the heart of Marseille’s old quarter, Panier. Orange Vélodrome: Be it rugby, soccer, or stadium concerts, the Orange Vélodrome is probably playing host to some event while you’re in town. You can also tour the century-old, ever modernized stadium, in case you can’t catch a game.

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Where to Eat and Drink in Marseille

Pizzeria Chez Jeannot: It’s not just a pizzeria—really, get the steak or the catch of the day—but it’s very much a staple tucked inside the cozy port de Vallon des Auffes. It makes for a romantic date night, or a great group dinner. Book ahead. Chez Fonfon: A perfect place to slurp bouillabaisse and savor a bottle of wine. The fancy Fonfon resides next to the aforementioned Chez Jeannot inside port de Vallon des Auffes. Yes, it’s worth coming to this nook twice in one weekend. Carlotta With: Seasonal dishes, local ingredients, all done real nice and French-like. Come for any meal, or a respite between. How to Order a Pint of Beer in Some of Europe’s Biggest Beer Hotspots Le Café De L’Aabbaye: Plan at least one hours-long aperitif here, alongside Marseille’s hip and scene-y crowd. You might even see a few French A-listers enjoying the same vices. (We did, apparently, according to our sharp-eyed and starstruck hosts.) Le Four des Navettes: Marseille’s oldest bakery (dating back to 1781), and perhaps still its most notable. Get their famed orange blossom biscuits. ]] Le Carrousel: Come here for craft beer, with a dozen on tap and two dozen by the bottle. La Côte de Boeuf: This Vieux Port staple has every cut of meat you might want—not just beef—and 400 kinds of wine with which to chase it all. 18 of the Best Modern Cocktail Bars in Europe Le Miramar: Have your pick between the bouillabaisse or bourride stews, the fixed menu (with the likes of scorpion fish and truffle bass), or the shellfish platter for two. Le Café des Épices: A deep-dive into colorful Mediterranean flavors, with dishes like octopus-pan-fried chard and confit lemon boneless rabbit. Madame Jeanne: Natural wines paired with fresh, small-menu dinners—like confit rabbit-shizo squash. Where else can you get that?

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Day Trips From Marseille

Calanques Hiking: The rocky coastline of Marseille leads to the Calanques National Park, a 200-sq. mile grade-changing wonder with an equally rugged shore. It’s most spectacular from its various inlets, the actual calanques, which are walled in by dolomite or limestone and collect the crystal-blue waters in their public basin. You’ve got to earn this reward though, by parking your car and hiking through the national park itself—some of them are reachable under half an hour, others twice or triple the distance. It can be unpredictable, but think of this as a beautiful hike with a relaxing reward at the end (on rough, rock-covered beaches), rather than framing it as a beach day preceded by a hike. I think that mentality will better suit the experience—and will inform the necessary footwear you must wear for the walk. Rent a car; pack water, sunscreen, lunch, and a backup phone charger; and head to the Calanques for at least one full day of your visit—and budget the day, starting early to maximize water time. And yes, you can also boat into some calanques from nearby Cassis or other small towns. But that’s kind of cheating. Oh, and during the hottest months of the year, namely July and August, the park is susceptible to fires, and oftentimes closes for entire days. So check the park calendar the day before you go, to see the forecast and clearance for the following day. The Best Budget-friendly European Cities For Travelers ]] Avignon or Aix-en-Provence: Provence provides plenty in lieu of humbler urban day trips. The medieval, walled-in historic center of Avignon makes for a charming and humbling day trip, just one hour by car and half that by train. Or opt for Cézanne’s birthplace, Aix-en-Provence, which is buzzing with academic energy. It’s a half-hour from Marseille by train or car. Lavender fields near Luberon and Verdon: Want to see Provence’s trippy purple lavender fields? Rent a car and point it to the various farmlands between Luberon and Verdon. Do this in late spring through mid-July, and you’ll feel like you’re on another planet, with sprawling rows of purple—not to mention the soothing scent lingering in the winds. As a landmark, you can route yourself to the picturesque town of Valensole for dinner or lunch—you won’t miss the lavender fields on this drive, so long as you’re in season. The post Lavender Fields, Bouillabaisse, and Calanques: The 4-Day Weekend in Marseille appeared first on Men's Journal. Read the full article

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