#Muriel journals

[muriel-not-the-dim-one]

Journal Entry - Muriel 37th Scrivener

I’ve been thinking a lot about Mr. Fells Journals. I had to look up some words again after talking with Maggie and Nina. “Private” came up a lot and something Nina called “NONYA”.

Private: belonging to or for the use of one particular person or group of people only.

Maggie said NONYA was an “acronym.” I haven’t figured out for what.

I really thought long and hard. What group of people would Mr. Fells Journals be for? Of course they would be for Mr. Fell since he wrote them.

I’m the Assistant Bookkeeper to Mr. Fell, and in actuality, I’m also the 37th Scrivener to the Supreme Archangel Aziraphale so I wouldn’t really be in the group. I would be the keeper of the journals.

I decided the other people in the “group” would be someone mentioned in the journal. But it couldn’t just be anyone.

I decided to flip through one of them and see who was mentioned the most.

I saw Gabriel, Michael, Uriel and Sandalphons names but only a few times. Job, Sitis and their children. A few others I didn’t know…………

But Mr. Crowley……in the first journal I looked into, Mr. Crowley was mentioned over 200 times.

I knew then, it was Mr. Crowley and Mr. Fell that were the group. The group of the two of them.

Luckily Mr. Fell dated and numbered his journal entries, like he taught me to do. Now to put them in order and begin to log them into my journals for safekeeping.

I couldn’t decide if this was something that the Supreme Archangel Aziraphale should be bothered with, being he’s so busy and all.

So I did what Mr. Crowley liked to do. I flipped a coin.

@secretdiaryofcrowley it came up tails.

[marttapav]

is the arcana fandom still a thing lmaoo

[ineffectualbookseller]

This picture is either currently being used as a bookmark in one of the books that NEVER leaves Aziraphale's desk, or is carefully clipped into the Bentley's sun visor. Neil needs to tell me which in season 3

[catyflorstar]

"The lovely part of forever is you can start it whenever you want to. It’s always waiting for you to remember it, waiting for you to be brave enough to seize it." - Chapter 12

Drinking Buddies and Diaries by dove_dove (AO3)

@heyimdove

[idylliumfield]

been watching much ado about nothing with catherine tate and david tennant (yes it was bc i needed a break from good omens it was melting my brain) but cmon this part is so crowley and muriel

here’s the link, scene timestamp around 45:27 (this show yall omg)

video description under the cut:

good omens storyboard to audio from much ado about nothing (2011). lineart is simple, dark purple on gray background, with only crowley’s hair, eyes, and glasses colored. he is sitting on the ground leaning on an unseen wall, facing the viewer holding a can with a straw. he wears an oversized shirt and boxers. he faces the viewer, sighs, then drawls, “Boy…” the camera pans out to show his whole body, as muriel drops from the top of frame. they are drawn cartoonishly while crowley is traced over david tennant’s benedick. they wear their constable outfit and have cartoony wings. they shed feathers and create a dust cloud as they land heavily, salute crowley and yell “signior!” the last syllable is written large. crowley flinches from the noise. we return to the closeup on crowley. he tries to find words, and eventually says “In my chamber window lies a book.” he gestures vaguely and repeatedly for muriel to fetch the book. he says “bring it. hither to me.” closeup profile on muriel, who says “i’m here already, sir?”. closeup on crowley, who slowly puts his sunglasses on his head, looks up at them, and says in a high strained voice, “i know that.” the phrase is written in cursive. muriel looks concerned. crowley says “i would have thee hence, and here again.” “hence” and “again” are in cursive. muriel says concernedly, “a book?” crowley emphasizes, “a book.” “book” is in calligraphy. muriel looks very concerned. zoom out to view them both, where crowley shoos muriel away, and they swoop into the sky again. crowley sighs and leans back, brings the can up and misses the straw before finding it.

[kaesaaurelia]

better to ask for permission than to expect forgiveness

For @whumptober day 3, using the prompts "journal" and "solitary confinement," and the lyric prompt, "Like crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon."

Muriel didn't exactly think what they wanted to do was entirely, one hundred percent, completely within what they were supposed to be doing, and this caused them considerable distress. Which was nonsense, really, because they could have just stopped thinking about it and stopped wanting it, and then not had that distress! It was very silly! They were aware, of course, that they were being very silly. And they should stop, because they were not a silly person.

But, because they kept wanting it, they had gone to the trouble of making an appointment with the Supreme Archangel to ask for permission, because everybody knew it was better to ask for permission than to expect forgiveness, especially when permission usually only required filling out ten to fifteen forms and forgiveness was much more paperwork heavy, at least as far as they were aware. They had never had to seek forgiveness. But! Permission! Significantly better overall. Potentially even attainable.

And so they had gone and made the appointment and waited out the time, and when they got to see Aziraphale he looked… smaller than they expected, and so tired, which was funny, because of course he didn't need sleep, and he ought to be happy, being in Heaven and all. (Even Crowley talked about how happy he must be in Heaven a lot, although Muriel was beginning to wonder if he meant a different kind of happiness that was maybe, actually… not that?) "Ah. So nice to see a friendly face," said the Supreme Archangel, looking up from whatever he was doing at his very messy desk. And he did actually seem happy to see them, although… not happy generally. Which was nice, and also very not-nice, and Muriel didn't know what to do about that, so she ignored it, because it was good enough that he was happy and it was nice. "How have you been? Are things going well with the shop? How is… er...." He trailed off.

Muriel told him all about how they'd been opening the shop at random times and not allowed anybody to buy anything, and they talked about the books they'd enjoyed and the ones they had found very confusing, but Aziraphale seemed to have been expecting more and they suddenly felt very conscious of how much time they'd spent talking about nothing at all. He was probably annoyed. So they got to the actual point of their appointment, which was permission.

"I was wondering, er, if I could have a look at my old records?" They had the password, because Crowley'd used it to access Gabriel's files, and it wasn't their fault that they remembered everything they'd ever seen and heard with absolute precision, so it really was just a matter of asking permission.

"Oh. Yes. If you'd like," said Aziraphale. He looked faintly disappointed.

"Thank you! I'll let you get on with your Supreme Archangel work now," they said.

"Right. Yes. Do stop in any time, though," said Aziraphale. "And, if you have any news about…"

"About what?"

"Nothing, never mind," said Aziraphale. He looked around nervously. "Probably shouldn't… anyway. Lovely to see you."

Muriel nodded happily at him and went to the archives to find what they were looking for. They were glad (and again, faintly guilty) that nobody was about, and nobody could see them taking their folder. It wasn't as though they were an important angel; Heaven wouldn't be needing these records. And they'd bring them right back. They were just curious.

Once they got back to the bookshop, they opened their file. It was in reverse chronological order, and it was pretty sparse, so they flipped past the first few records and got to the first thing that was new to them. Because, well. They did remember everything they'd ever seen and heard with absolute precision. And yet, their memories started several thousand years after the creation of the Earth. It was, as the humans might put it, a bit of a puzzle. And Muriel liked puzzles.

Anyway, the first thing that was new to them was a record of memory correction. Which wasn't too surprising, although it made them feel bad, for some reason, and slightly hollow, and they didn't like that very much, so they skipped it.

The second thing was something called an Incident Report. Muriel had never seen the form for this; they had never been involved in an Incident before, and it sounded quite exciting. But reading it was like reading a piece of human fiction; the angel described was -- to borrow a phrase from the thrilling tale of a human trying to obtain the mystical elixir that would make all his woes better -- almost, but not entirely, unlike Muriel. This angel had shouted at a superior. This angel had threatened to bite somebody. Muriel had never even bitten food.

They skipped past that, and leafed past a few other pages, anxious to find something familiar, something that felt like them. They stopped, finding a form in their own handwriting.

They were requesting reassignment from Heaven back to Earth. Which had apparently been their prior assignment. Muriel did not understand, and their confusion increased as they read on.

Reason for request: I am beginning to think this scrivener assignment is not as entirely necessary as had been previously represented, as not a single person has had need of my services for over a century. I'm aware of some of my performance problems in the past on Earth, and I know I can do better. Also, and I apologize for being selfish, I cannot continue on in an empty white void for an indefinite period of time. If I cannot be reassigned to Earth at this time I would like to request that I be permitted some sort of conversation with… someone? Sometimes? Really, just somebody telling me to have a nice decade would be an improvement. Or a brief chat about the weather.

Here the phrase "lack of" was inserted with a carat above "the weather." Muriel nodded; they took pride in their dedication to precision and accuracy, at least where it did not interfere with the will of Heaven. Sometimes the will of Heaven was a bit hazy, unlike the weather in Heaven, which was always nonexistent.

They continued reading, though it was a bit more difficult, as their handwriting suffered a noticeable decline, even before they ran out of lines on the form:

Look, I'm so sorry I know I keep requesting this, but I just can't keep going on as I have. I'm going to go mad. Just let me talk to someone. They don't even have to be a real person! And I promise I'll only talk about nice things. I just know something needs to change for me, or I won't be an asset to Heaven at all, I'll be broken. I know that's not a thing that's supposed to happen but I think, as the events of the past few millennia can attest to, things that aren't supposed to happen happen all the time and it would be stupid of us to keep pretending they don't. I'm not stupid and I'm not going to pretend I am for the benefit of some middle managers who don't understand the conditions we're working in on Earth.

Muriel frowned at the form. This seemed utterly unlike them. And yet, there it was, in their own handwriting. Somebody had stamped DENIED over the form in gold, and as they leafed through the file they found at least a dozen more forms, almost identical but for not-Muriel's pleas for Something To Do, with the same DENIED stamp glimmering on each.

They felt like they had been punched in the stomach. Not that that had ever happened to them. Or that they knew how that felt. But it felt like… that. Muriel didn't know if they could put it into words describing experiences they had actually definitely had and remembered.

[stumblingoverchaos]

From my Good Omens art journal. "'Ello, 'ello, 'ello". Collage, acrylic paint, gel plate printing, stickers.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Can u do mini-headcanons about the m6 kids had a nightmare and asks if the they could sleep with them (the m6 and MC)

Sorry for the bad english and thank you for writting these, i thought It was a really cute idea

The Arcana Mini-HCs: M6's kid has a nightmare and asks to join them

Julian: scoots over to give them room, lets them talk about it until they fall back asleep, stays up wondering guiltily if it's hereditary

Asra: 0 hesitation, opens the covers for them, rolls them up in blankets and snuggles until they feel safe enough to fall back asleep

Nadia: knows how grumpy she gets when she gets woken up, sends them to your side of the bed so she doesn't say anything she'll regret

Muriel: grunts, lifts them one-handed into the middle of the bed by their shirt, falls asleep halfway through asking "wanna talk about it?"

Portia: wants to be a good mom but also wants her full night's sleep. pulls them into bed and hands them a dream journal for processing

Lucio: no child of his will go without affection. sure, he'll swear under his breath the whole time, but he'll let them in and snuggle them up

[books-and-omens]

Oh. Oh WAIT. 

The Crow Road. You know, that book where the protagonist is searching for an answer to a conspicuous thing that happened. An answer that finally comes together through notes and omissions and bits of narrative and off-hand remarks.

And we were thinking that the book might be a clue for Muriel, or something to do with Aziraphale’s journals, or setup for the third season, or…

But the thing is. The thing is. 

What we are doing right now. What we are all doing right now.

We are the protagonist of The Crow Road.

The Crow Road was given to us.

[zeroone-eleven]

Gifts & Thoughts (M6); The Arcana

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

Summary: The Main 6 and the gifts they send the Main Character. [Upright Endings]

Requested? ❌

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

"Is it obvious that all of this is right?"

-Elijah Woods, 24/7 365.

----------------------٩(◕‿◕｡)۶-----------------------

Nadia Satrinava:

Elegance, is the word for the gifts she spoils you with.

Everything she gifts you always has a connection to a certain time you have spent together.

A memorable date? A memorable day? A memorable moment? It doesn't matter;

Even the jewels that always color coordinate with your outfit palette has some sort of underlying memory connected to them.

Prepare to get showered with the finest, most intricately detailed accessories that Nadia associates with your shared memories.

Small mechanical inventions for your familiar. Like the little toys she made for Chandra.

Just as much as she pampers you, Nadia spares no expense in both monetary value and thought value to the things she creates for your familiar.

Your familiar is never going to feel bored within the Palace grounds, what with both Chandra and Nadia's little inventions to keep them company when you aren't there.

Light silk clothes in your preferred color palette, while the Vesuvian weather makes velvet and other similar fabrics impractical-

Nadia is well versed with the versatility of silk with the heat.

The silks she gifts you are to be imported from Praka, she will settle for gifting you no other silks but the finest kind in all the world.

The embroidery on these clothing items are always customized:

A pattern of a colorful forest: When you hunted down Lucio's ghost together.

A pattern of a wheat field: For that time you screamed your grievances to the heavens.

A pattern of waves, a small island with a singular angled tree: For the time you swam with her in the High Priestess' domain.

Asra Alnazar:

Scrapbooks is the vibe that comes to mind whenever the gift is from Asra.

For his presents are a mix of both learning, and simple sentimentalities.

There are still times where he goes on his own adventures and whenever he does, he never fails to bring back a tricket (Or five) which had reminded him of you in some way.

A leatherbound journal, with a burnt in pattern. For note taking when you're working on spell adjustments.

A small gemstone imbued with a protection spell, or a spell for luck, or healing- That has been fashioned into a necklace.

Herbs that he dries himself.

Self-made tea blends that he has subjected himself to tasting before handing you the perfected blends.

Matching knitted sweaters for you and your familiar, imbued with temperature regulation spells.

Spell tomes he bought, read, and then annotated with possible helpful tips, or everyday commentary to make your learning easier and more fun.

Julian Devorak:

Tomfoolery. That's it. That's his type of gifts.

A pun book, that he had somehow managed to talk Malak into gently dropping on you.

A sealed bottle with a preserved leach inside, reminiscent of the time you both thought to bathe in a suspiciously muddled pond.

He buys small journals, and writes down his adventure stories within them before handing them over to you.

Sometimes he'd send you a "Doctor's Prescription" that contain sweet gestures such as ten hugs a day, four kisses per hour, a "Nap" with him that lasts at least 12 hours-

Julian is an actor, a performer, an artist, a man of the arts. He always comes up with a new way to make a gift unique from the rest despite them being almost the same in form.

You now have a slowly growing folder of all the Doctor's Prescriptions you have been prescribed.

Thankfully, you only have a single bottle of leech and there is no indication that there will ever be another one.

Muriel the Outsider:

Handmade. Everything he gifts you is made with love, adoration, and quiet devotion driving his hands.

Sculptures both realistic and abstract, with the wood carefully polished to bring out the unique patterns.

Spice blends foraged and dried by himself from when he goes foraging in the forest every month.

Very seldomly, he gifts you flowers that he dried himself. Whenever he finds some that he likes the colors of.

He doesn't gift you dried flowers often, he appreciates nature and it's bounty but finds it hard to see any flowers as beautiful enough to be given to you.

Home cooked meals that Muriel tries his best to perfectly season and cook to your preferences.

Whenever trading caravans pass by Vesuvia, Muriel heads into the city and does his best to peruse each and every cart. Looking for something that might "Speak" to him as something that suffices as a gift for you in his eyes.

If there is no specific thing that meets his standard, then he'll look for materials in the carts instead so that he can make you something.

Portia Devorak:

Literature; Portia learned to read and write quite late in life, those two skills have become an integral part of who she is and what she sees as art and worthy of praise.

She writes you verses, poems, short stories- and she scatters them in the nooks and crannies of your shared home for you to find unexpectedly.

The paper is always subconsciously imbued with her magic. Whenever you touch the paper, you end up getting a glimpse into what she was feeling for you when she wrote the piece.

She gifts you books of stories she always comes back to, and books about the history, customs, and culture of the places you and her are sent as Emissaries to.

She makes sure to read through these books herself first, inserting slips of paper with her own viewpoints on a particular scene, or poems inspired by the scene (and the fact that she imagined both of you in it).

She also makes sure to always get you a box of the most delicious looking and smelling treat in the bakeries you visit on your Emmisary trips.

Lucio / Montag Morgasson:

The World. (No, Lucio does not get you the world turtle- As cute as they may be.)

He is no longer the Count, he has renounced that stature in favor of being a mercenary once more.

On your excursions, Lucio takes the time to sit down and take in the sights with you. Talking about everything and little nothings all at once.

Sometimes he sneaks in a purchase when you're both in the marketplace stocking up on supplies, stuffing it into his pack when your back is turned.

He never knows where or when he's going to give it to you on your adventures, but he knows that he'll know when the time is right.

Lucio picks flowers from the paths you're walking to place it either in your hair, or he pins it to your shirt.

If you get sad when it inevitably wilts away, Lucio reassures you that it's nothing to be sad about because the memory of your happiness from receiving the flower will metaphorically be keeping it alive.

If you find a way to preserve it with magic, he'll buy a sturdy box (He also asks you to enchant it with a few spells for extra safety) in which to keep all the flowers taken from your journey.

Once the box is full, it finds a place on the mantle of your shared home.

----------------------٩(◕‿◕｡)۶-----------------------

[muriel-not-the-dim-one]

Journal Entry -Muriel 37th Scrivener

Today I started “categorizing” the books.

Mr. Fell taught me to always shelve them alphabetically by author, AFTER getting them into a “category”. I had to use the dictionary and thesaurus quite a lot at first, but then I began to understand what a “category” was.

But oh my! Jim, actually the previous Supreme Archangel of the Heavenly Hosts, Gabriel, DID NOT understand how to shelve the books. It was almost like he had his own idea of how they should be done.

I pulled all the books off one bookcase and decided to start there. Nina came by to ask if I had eaten, saw the mess and asked me what happened. After I told her, she called Gabriel a “putz”. I had to look it up, but it sure made me giggle. I know that wasn’t kind, but I remembered Mr. Crowley calling him “His Royal Smugness”. Jim is very nice, but Gabriel was not.

Behind some of the books on the bottom shelf, there were several brown leather covered books. They didn’t have a name or author, and I wasn’t sure how I could shelve them.

When I opened them, they weren’t like the other books. These were handwritten. The writing was so beautiful. It was like what I used to read on the scrolls in Heaven.

It only took me a moment to realize these were Mr. Fells Journals.

I’m still trying to decide what to do. ✨

[dbacklot99]

Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About The Crow Road, But Couldn't Get Through it To Find Out

Co-written by dbacklot and cheeseplants

WARNING: SPOILERS EVERYWHERE!!

Overall Premise: Books are clearly important to Good Omens and Neil & team have left us Clues. In S2E2, the xray trivia highlights a list of books they would like the audience to read. But even more specifically, there are names of certain books on the back of the chairs in the theater in the opening credits. Those books are: The Tale of Two Cities, Pride & Prejudice, and The Crow Road - twice!

What might this mean? One theory is that the chairs represent the seasons. The body swap in S1 is similar to how Carton, in Tale of Two Cities, takes his doppleganger's place in jail, sacrificing his life so Darnay could go free and be with his family. Pride & Prejudice is clearly referenced in S2, with Crowley's proposal as a sort of mirror to Darcy's first proposal. (There's probably a whole lot more to unpack there - and if you like Austen, here are some thoughts about Aziraphale's favorite book, Persuasion, and how it may relate to the characters.)

BACK to The Crow Road. The title is shown on two chairs in the opening sequence, suggesting that it is related to both S2 and S3. Furthermore, we see the book multiple times in the show and it's the book Muriel reads at the end. As an aside, Neil Gaiman and Iain Banks were very good friends. Iain Banks died over a decade ago, so it is also likely a bit of a tribute to his friend.

So let's dig in and see why perhaps Neil keeps holding this book up and shouting Clue!

Side note: The book is long and most of the action happens in the final third, which can make it a hard read for folks. There's also a lot of characters and it can be tricky to remember how they are all related. There is a family tree BUT it has spoilers.

The Name: The Crow Road is a phrase used by the grandmother to indicate someone has died, ie - he's gone the crow road.

The Plot: This is the story of Prentice growing up with his immediate and extended family in Scotland. His Uncle Rory disappears in his early childhood. Some family members choose to believe Rory is still alive. After a hook-up with his Uncle Rory's former girlfriend as a young adult, Prentice starts gathering journals and writings from his missing Uncle Rory, who was (for a few years) a successful writer and traveler. Prentice eventually learns that 1) another Uncle, Fergus, had murdered his own wife and covered it up as a car accident and 2) Rory had figured this out and confronted him. Fergus then murdered Rory, hid all the evidence, and hired an acquaintance (who also traveled) to send matchboxes from bars across the world to Prentice's father, Kenneth. Kenneth, believed - as Fergus intended - that these were messages from Rory, indicating he was still alive. 

Stylistically, Prentice's childhood memories and fragments from Rory's journals are interspersed throughout the book, much like the minisodes are in S2. It can take the reader a while to figure out who is telling the story or where this information is coming from. It is also unclear how reliable Rory is as narrator - perhaps this also plays into S2.

What it Might Mean: 

Fergus could represent the Metatron. He is very powerful, rich, and conservative; he lives in a castle (Heaven?) and wants authority. Fergus also murders two relatives and hides those murders; the murder of his wife may have been inspired by jealousy over her sleeping with another man, an event which may or may not have happened.

Fergus also sets up fake messages!! The matchbooks are red herrings to make it look like Rory is still alive. As the Metatron relays messages from God, I can't get over the possibilities here. We have seen God speaking directly as recently as Job, but are the other messages real?

I can't help but wonder if the matchbooks and their use as messages inspired Neil to use the matchbook in S2. The matchbook in S2, incidentally, connects to all three minisodes - the quote from Job, 41:19 (reversed 1941), and the matchbox is from the Resurrectionists pub. So the matchbook contains not only Gabriel’s memories but refers to Azi’s as well?

Much of the book is about this missing uncle. Is a character (or their memory) missing in S3? I have theories, but its too soon to tell.

There's also an interesting theme of Prentice collecting his Uncle Rory's writings and records, including sending some corrupted computer discs to an expert in America to try to restore them. Given the emphasis on records ("It contains information in a tuneful way") and journals in S2, not to mention this trivia nugget ​​ - my brain is itching that there's a connection there.

Faith & Beliefs: The book talks about Faith a lot. Prentice believes in God and his father Kenneth doesn’t. And Kenneth doesn’t just reject religion, he wants his children to reject religion too. Prentice on the other hand desperately wants something to believe in - especially after a friend's death in an accident. This leads to a huge fall out - they end up not talking over it.

"'I mean, what's the big argument? Can't you just agree to disagree?' 'No; we disagree about that,' I shook my head. 'Seriously; it doesnt' work that way; neither of us can leave it alone. There's almost nothing either of us can say that can't be taken the wrong way, with a bit of imagination. It's like being married.'" (Ch 7)

Kennth seemingly taunts God - he climbs a church during a lightning storm and is struck dead. His uncle Hamish (one of Kenneth’s brothers) also represents the extreme version of Faith and ends up running a sort of cult, at least until Kenneth’s death.

What it Might Mean: The thread they pull through a lot is about meaning, and whether you can have meaning in life without God. Prentice gains Faith because his friend died senselessly; he wonders how can you have a world be so cruel. There must be a reason for it (this is sort of Az coded), and he turns to God to create the meaning for him. 

BUT Kenneth’s argument is that you don’t need Faith for the world to have meaning (or at least that is my reading). It is wonderful because it is inherently meaningless (this is very existentialist, but I do think that’s the point). That Faith doesn’t do that, and just means you are looking outwards without looking at what is right in front of you. Which again, could be a Crowley way of looking at it, or at least where he is headed. Life is good as life, and doesn’t need God to make it so. 

Hamish represents someone putting so much meaning into Faith that they lose all sense of Joy, he becomes distant.  (One of my favorite scenes is Hamish doing a jigsaw puzzle with the pieces upside down - and cutting the pieces with scissors if they don’t fit right!)

The Romantic Relationships: Prentice is infatuated with a cousin (second cousin?), Verity. She is described as beautiful, in white/light colors, pure, lives with Uncle Fergus in the castle. There are legends around her birth -  she was conceived under a tree during a storm. She is unattainable and eventually ends up with Prentice's older brother.

Ash, on the other hand, is almost literally the girl next door and Prentice’s long-term best friend. Her family is poorer and maybe has some domestic violence issues. She's always there for Prentice - literally a shoulder to cry on, sharing a bottle of whiskey, helping him sober up after said whiskey. There's obvious romantic tension from Ash’s side but she never pushes him and instead guides him along. And the book ends with a romantic resolution that feels very much like the final fifteen - except with a happier ending.

“- and I still didn’t feel I could tell her how I felt about her because she was going away now, and how could I suddenly say I love you when I’d never said it to anybody in my life before? How could I say it now especially, the night before she was due to leave? It would look like I was trying to make her stay, or just get her into bed. It would probably wreck this one precious evening that we did have, and upset her, confuse her, even hurt her, and I didn’t want to do any of that.” (Ch 13)

They finally kiss and spend the night together, both confessing their love. Ash has to leave the next morning to pursue a career opportunity in New York; Prentice is sad that she goes but re-dedicating himself to his studies and working towards a relationship together. 

What it Might Mean: To me, Verity is very Heaven-coded and Ash is very Hell-coded. A big part of Prentice's arc (Prentice may represent Azi here) is getting over his blind infatuation with Verity and realizing the value and love he has with Ash. However, they also need to be apart and grow a bit before they can be together.

Other thoughts? Connections? Would love to hear your theories!!

@cheeseplants

[nightgoodomens]

Muriel: Are this Aziraphale’s journals? Where should I put them?

Crowley: Don’t touch them *snatches them away*

Goes upstairs to put them away, curiosity wins over and he takes a peak:

“… Crowley looked particularly handsome today…”

Crowley: Muriel I will be busy for a while! 🍷

[angeledeggs]

Main Six + The Courtiers with a bilingual partner

Main six plus the courtiers with a bilingual significant other! Hope y'all enjoy, and thanks for the surprising amount of support! :)

Asra 💜:

Finds it cool that you know another language, and will probably ask you how you learnt it, why you learned it, etc.

Asra is also bilingual! He speaks Arabic, too, which was his first language. He can also write in it flawlessly and though he speaks English very well, his writing in English can get a bit messy when he's tired

They'll probably want to learn a few things in the other languages you know just for fun, and if you want to have conversations in that language? Even better! Asra will hit the books right away!

If you have just a bit of an accent when you switch to English or the other language you know, Asra will probably blush a bit. He finds it attractive.

Will probably brag to their parents that you're so smart that you know more than one language, and probably to their friends, too.

If you know Arabic, or even better- learned it for Asra, he'll probably fall a bit harder for you and the bragging to his parents will most definitely be nonstop.

Muriel💙:

Finds it impressive, especially since he just knows English. Will ask you a bit about the language you know, how good you are, etc.

He'll probably not want to learn it though, not because he thinks it's weird, just because he's kind of bad at memorizing things (unless it comes to what you like).

If you want him to try though, he definitely will. He'd probably try to read some books and give up, and try flash cards instead. In the end, he can kind of carry a conversation with you in the language.

But if you want to speak in that language to him more often, he'll definitely amp up his studying and a lot of the times in the evening you'll find him quietly making more flashcards. It warms your heart.

He manages to stumble through an "I love you" in the language you know and gets really happy when you can understand him.

Nadia💎:

Finds it refined and elegant that you can speak in another language, even if you can barely do it and stutter through your words.

If you have any accent, she'll also find that extremely graceful of you.

She also knows a few languages herself which includes English and a few dialects of Hindi, but she won't tell you unless you ask, just because she's never thought of it before.

If you know her language or any of the dialects (or teach yourself), no matter how broken it is, she'll melt.

Is probably similar to Asra in the act of bragging to her family about you and your skills. A lot.

Might learn a phrase or two in the language you know, just to say it to you and see your reaction. But then she's suddenly studying it every night and sometimes mumbles it in her sleep when you two cuddle.

Julian🦠:

Thinks it's cool and deems you 'even smarter'

He knows Russian and might say a thing or two to you in it when he's teasing you. If you know Russian, he most definitely will blush whenever you even start to speak it for a second.

He insists that you teach him some together to 'bond', and he'll also most likely watch a few videos to learn it, too. His pronunciation is very bad, but he's so proud, you can't really tell him that.

He'll probably brag to Portia, too, about how awesome you are and how you're bilingual. He may or may not write down every little thing he loves about you in one of his journals. His journals are a mess though, so you'll never find it.

Will call you a nickname in the other language you know like sweetheart or honey. If you allow it, of course.

Portia🧡:

As soon as she hears you speak it, she's fallen in love all over again. Will definitely blush each time you speak it, which she can't help!

She knows just a bit of Russian, but not a lot, and mainly speaks English. Hearing and knowing that your bilingual definitely inspires her to get back to being fluent? And oh, if you speak Russian, she's absolutely floored.

Might study with you if you're not fluent yet, just for the bonding.

Gets all flustered if you have an accent, too.

She actually goes to her brother to get back into her Russian and will affectionately refer to you in terms of endearment of your own language, or her own like "Дорогой" or "Моя любовь"

Lucio👑:

Someone call an ambulance, because he thinks he's about to have a heart attack when he hears you speak in the other language that you know. A good heart attack, of course!

Only knows English himself and is impressed no matter what language you speak. He might even learn some of it just to impress you.

He's so proud of you for knowing another language, no matter what level of fluent you are. Sometimes he just asks you to speak it to him so he can relax.

If he's actually committed to learning your language for you, he'll put some TV shows on with voiceovers in the language you speak, since he heard that's the best way to learn.

Might even get a book, if he wants to feel like he really is trying.

After a long time, he'll be able to stutter through a conversation with you in the other language you know. But only to see you smile.

Valerius🍷:

How... Sophisticated. He's definitely impressed. Which, honestly, is rare for him. He only knows English, so to know that you know another language has him a bit speechless for a moment.

To show how impressed he is with your language abilities, he'll most likely get you a few books in the other language you know so that you can read them.

And if you have an accent? He's blushing already.

Will study the language half heartedly for a bit when one day he suddenly decides he actually wants to know it like you do, and studies much more.

He's able to keep a conversation with you, and to him, he's very proud of both you... And, yes, himself. But he definitely won't say it or brag or anything, he's just happy he can talk to you in the language. Especially gossip.

Vlastomil🐛:

Doesn't realize that you're bilingual at first, but when he does, he'll definitely compliment you on your knowledge.

Thinks that it's very smart for you to know more than one language, and finds himself impressed by the face that you're bilingual.

If you happen to have an accent in either your English or other language, he thinks that it's extremely cute and will probably ask you to speak to him in your other language just to hear it.

Just knows English and a bit of Latin, and that's probably enough for him. But if you want him to learn your language? For you, anything.

He'll definitely commit to it if you want him to learn it too, and will end up buying lots of books about the language. He ends up stuttering through it and half fluent, but very proud.

Valdemar🧠:

If you know a language, Valdemar probably knows it too, but they're still impressed. They probably won't admit it, though.

If you have an accent in either English or the other language, they find it, strangely... adorable. Very adorable, and they insist you speak it more often around them. They had spent years hiding their own accent/s wherever they went, after all.

Will definitely have a few books in the language you know. And they give it to you. They don't lend it to you. They give it to you, insisting that it was yours all along in the end.

If you call them something affectionate in your language, they will respond with a surprisingly enthusiastic kiss.

Volta🍰:

Wow, she's so impressed! She doesn't know many bilingual people and is monolingual herself, which makes your knowledge even more impressive to her.

Will want to watch shows with you that have your language in it, even though she can't understand it, just to bond.

She'll also probably want to try food from the country that speaks your language, just from curiousity.

She gets super blushy if you ever refer to her in your language as something affectionate, and will probably make a little squeaking noise.

Vulgora⚔️:

Only knows English, and is very impressed with your skill. Insists that they learn some, too, just so you two can talk in your other language.

They love it when you speak in the other language you know, and they find it actually calms them down, a lot. It's so calming to them that it's able to put them to sleep, really.

They brag about your skill to other nobles and maybe even the family members they still talk to.

If you ever refer to them as something affectionate in the language you know, they will demand you repeat it over and over for them until they can say it themselves and calm you that

It's surprisingly sweet for such an aggressive warrior.

❀

[marixrose]

Could I get a Hc for the arcana boys+Asra where Mc and their Li are just relaxing. When Mc notices their Li looking over at them Mc strikes the most adorable pose they can.

Of course! I haven’t written for the Arcana in a bit, but I hope this is up to your standards! 🫶🏼

The Arcana when MC strikes an adorable pose when caught looking at them

Asra— You both are stargazing after a long day. Asra has been very busy with their shop lately, not that they’re complaining—business is good. You’re gazing at the stars as Asra slowly turns their gaze to you. You are unaware of this at first, but soon feel the stare. You take a quick glance in their direction and smile. You turn towards them and prop your head up on your hand and gaze at them adoringly with a soft smile. Asra’s heart melts at the sight and he blushes slightly. Soon enough he is mimicking your pose, the stars forgotten. You both spent the time admiring each other.

Julian— He was busy reading a book while you both sat on the couch. You were writing in your journal completely focused and zoned out. Julian had been gazing at you for a couple of minutes now, but you were too distracted by your own thoughts. Soon enough you snap out of your focus and caught him staring at you in the corner of your eye. You turn towards him will a big smile and blow him a kiss. He blushed and turns away love struck. He fell in love with you all over again.

Muriel— You both are relaxing by the fire in his cabin after a long day. It was one of those days where you managed to bring him to the market with you, and he agreed. You were memorized by the sparks being produced by the fire that you were unaware that he was looking at you. You caught on soon enough and smiled. You kiss his cheek and lean your head on his shoulder lovingly. He felt warm inside, he felt loved.

Lucio— He decided to relax in the kitchen eating a delicious dessert. You both were relaxing and enjoying the meal. You were enjoying it a little too much not to notice him gazing at you. You had a mouthful of the dessert when you turn towards him with the biggest smile you could muster. He started laughing and once you swallowed your food, you laughed with him. He kissed your forehead and muttered cute things as you continued to enjoy the snack.

[teeth-farie]

Honeycomb

Muriel/GN Reader

Notes: trans muriel, lingerie, fingering, feminization, roleplay, cheesy housewife novels, 3k words

☞. . . Hey! It’s been a while! This is based on me and my friends headcanon about muriel liking those cheesy housewife novels

Moving in with Muriel was easy enough, you had been together on the hunt for a year, after all. The two of you had long surpassed any discomforts that new couples would face while adjusting in each other's spaces. You found it easy to fall into his orbit, melding together in peaceful harmony.

But one thing you didn’t expect, however, was Muriel’s lack of…everything in his home. Yes, you anticipated it somewhat, but there was nothing to occupy his time or his mind other than work, nothing for him to relax other than a single, woodcarving chisel. There needed to be more, you needed him to have the necessities of life. 

So you started bringing home books. Simple, short novels from the shop that would give him a little more wonder to his day. But not many Vesuvians knew how to read, and the thought that you gifted something that he couldn’t use made you panic–but as he picked up the small volume and flicked through, feeling the texture of the pages and taking in the summaries, you felt your anxiety quell. You think that Asra must have taught him when they were young, and the thought of the two pointing to words in a too-large tome has you smiling. 

“Thank you,” Muriel breathed, a fascination in his eyes at your gifts, small and lovingly worn in his hands. When was the last time he had gotten a chance to read? A long time. Too long.

He had finished the book in a day.

It was hard to pull him away from it. Many times you caught him flipping the book back open, making his way through chapter by chapter. Nothing could pull him away; he’d use one hand to hold it open while brushing Inanna or stirring stew in the hearth, and it was a miracle that he didn’t try to take the book with him while tending to the chickens. 

Muriel finished it during dinner, his attention focused on the page as he spooned hearty stew into his mouth across from you. It was a short book, only about one hundred pages, but it filled him with a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. 

“Was it good?” You asked, smiling around your spoon, finally catching his attention. He flushed, sheepish as he nodded. “Yeah, I liked it.”

 “I’m so glad! Why don't you tell me about it?” 

Unfortunately, you had only so many books, and Muriel had begun to get picky with his findings. He liked reading fairytales and poetry, he liked mystical adventures with beautiful creatures, and you only had so much. 

So you took him to the market in search for more, sifting through dusted novels and doggy-eared journals for something he’d enjoy. And enjoy he did, walking back home with you with the smallest smile on his face, a new little treasure in his bag. 

Nothing was like seeing the awe on his face when the first official library in Vesuvia opened, and while he didn’t attend the grand opening (far too many loud people, he had said), he went frequently thereafter, making unintentional friends with the librarians and allowing himself to bask in the light of the large windows. 

You kept an eye out for new literature while you were out likewise, searching through the selections to find something new.

And it was meant as a joke, really. You meant it to be a funny gag gift when you brought home a novel with a hand-drawn cover of a delicate, foresty woman holding onto a well chiseled man. 

Muriel’s face had erupted in red, steam practically shooting from his ears. He grumbled, giving the cover a side eye. You hadn’t thought much of it after that, admittedly, aside from the laughs it gave you. 

You stir awake, turning over on your side. Muriel’s sitting up in the bed, the bedside candle lit and flickering, illuminating his large form delicately. He’s holding a book in his hands, and you hear his breath softly hitch as he flips the page, his hand coming up to his face and his teeth catching on his thumb. You’ve never seen him react like that before when reading.

“Honey?” You call out.

You hear him choke on his breath and he quickly snaps the book shut, pinching the flame out with his fingers.

“Go back to bed.” He says tightly.

“What were you reading-“

Muriel quickly lays back down with his back towards you. “Nothing!” He practically yelps. “Go to sleep!”

You snuggle back up against him and he begins to relax again. How odd. 

Muriel was quiet the morning after that, and while he likes to think he’s sneaky, you know he’s hidden that joke gift book under his pillow. When he steps outside to chop more wood, you take a peek at the book under his pillow. You crack it open to his bookmark, letting your eyes fall on a paragraph. 

“-The impish magician finds the nymph under him, her long legs spread open. She smells like lavender and honey, and he wants to eat her whole. 

“My hero,” she croons, watery, doe like eyes staring up into his. “Treat me gently, I beg of you.”

The magician's hand is in between her legs, fingers pressing into her p-“

Ah. You hadn’t expected this little book to be that graphic. No wonder Muriel had been so shy about it! You look over your shoulder at the window, carefully peering to see him still halving wood. With a grin full of teeth and a mind full of mischievous ideas, you flick through a few more pages.

…

The next following days you put your plan into action.

Admittedly, you couldn’t wait to get your hands on him. Fortunately for you, Muriel also seemed to be in a touchy-feely mood, reciprocating the touches and kisses. In the back of your mind, you wonder if that novel had anything to do with his more spontaneous libido as of late. 

Your hands press against his sides, lightly brushing against his ribs and drawing out a breathy little sound that makes you grin against his lips. His mouth is wet and soft against yours, parted as your tongue swipes against his bottom lip. It makes him shiver, his fingers clutching into the knit of your sweater. The hearth is still burning, the low flickering of the fire warming your skin almost as much as the kissing is. 

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” you breathe out, your teeth catching gently on his lip. Muriel makes a whimpery little sound, and you think about how much more you want to hear it. He hums in curiosity, eyes still lidded when you pull away to fetch a bag from under the bed.

You open up your bag, taking out the linen-wrapped package. “What's that?” He asks, interest peaked as you hand it to him. “Open up and see.”

Muriel looks down at the package in his hands and carefully, like he thought it might bite him, he peels away the covering. The sight inside makes his breath hitch, his skin blooming hotter. 

White and sage lace, silks, all wrapped into each other to form a gorgeous set of lingerie. He feels his hands tremble a bit, and somewhere in the back of his mind says that this feels familiar. 

And then it hits him; this fits the exact description of what the character in the novel wears during one of the scenes in which– oh, oh, Muriel’s face has gotten so very red–

“Like it? I flipped through that book you like so much and thought about doing something special for you.” You rest your hand on his thigh, snapping him away from his flustered focus. He looks at you, biting on his lips. “So what do you say? Wanna put it on, honeycomb?” 

Another piece from the book, an endearing nickname for the forest nymph that has him feeling less than innocent. 

You’re watching him as he pulls off his sweater, inch upon glorious inch of skin exposing, light brown with scars and stretches. He’s gained weight since you’ve both made your peaceful life together, indulging in things he never thought he’d be able to savor. No longer is his skin clinging to muscles. He's soft, squishy over that strong body, and it takes everything in your power not to sink your fingers into his stomach. 

The pants follow next, then his simple underwear, until he’s completely nude in front of you. Vulnerable in all the best ways. He’s biting his lip, gently touching the lingerie in the wrapping. 

“Do you want help?” You offer, meeting his shy gaze. “Mm,” Muriel can only whine, slowly, stiffly nodding his head. “Please,” he tacks on for extra measure, possibly a little less shy than you thought; he knows how hot it gets you when he uses his manners. 

You feel a little shiver in your spine, one of excitement as you grab the panties and twirl them around your finger. “Come on, big boy,” you whistle playfully and your big boy snorts with a roll of his eyes, standing to his feet before the bed where you sit. “Or should I say, little lady?” 

Now that gets you a nice little sound, a stuttery gasp from his kiss-swollen lips. “You like that?” You grin, holding out the leg holes of the panties for him to step into. Muriel grabs onto your shoulders as he does, nodding sheepishly in agreement. “That’s a good girl,” you snap the band around his hips, the sage silks and lace framing his hips and ass snuggly. His hips jerk, already dampening the fabric with his arousal. “So, so pretty. And you’re all for me.” You lean forward, eyes flicking up to his as you press a kiss to his stomach, over the thick happy trail leading into the scrunched elastic of the underwear. 

“Ssstop…” Muriel whimpers, turning his face in embarrassment. 

“You want me to stop? Are you sure?” You fiddle with the bralette you’ve yet to put on him. “Or are you just being shy again?” 

He huffs, face still profoundly red. “Shut up.” He grumbles, though empty of malice. You’ve got your answer, so you hold out the last bit of lingerie for him. Muriel loops the straps over his shoulders, turning around for you to fasten the clasps. You don’t miss how he shivers when your knuckles brush against his spine, or the way his breath catches in his throat when those fingers trail down the length of his back. 

“Turn around, let me see you, honeycomb.” 

Muriel follows your order without a second thought, shuffling to face you. And he looks gorgeous. Green truly is his color, there’s no doubt about that. The bralette hugs his chest, the scalloped-edged cups framing his breasts. Your eyes rake down lower, down his beautiful scarred chest and stomach, thick patches of hair littering the path, all the way down to the hem of his panties. You almost drool at the way his clit bulges against the cloth, swollen and needy. 

“Look at you…” you grab his hips and squeeze, fingers looping under the band of his panties to give them a playful snap. “Back on the bed, hun, come here,”

He crawls into bed after you, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he does. Every shift of his thighs has the heat between his legs growing stronger, a measly friction that makes him feel even more desperate. Muriel’s the one to initiate another kiss, his hands carefully placed on the tops of your thighs. You thread your fingers in his hair, smiling against his lips. You have to use your grip to pull him back to speak, a thin line of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. 

“So eager…Lay down, that’s it,” the blankets are soft below his half-naked skin, although failing to warm him quite like your touch. You spread his legs apart, excitement surging through you at the sight of his dampening underwear. 

Teasingly, you run your fingers up the inside of his thigh, up to where he needs you the most. “What was the thing your book talked about? The magician putting his fingers in the nymph’s flower?” 

Muriel chokes on a gasp, hands shooting up to cover his face. “Ugh-”

“Come on, honeycomb, don’t you want that too? You’re already dressed up just like her.” Your thumb rubs over his bulging clit, drawing a whimper from his lips. He nods from behind his hands.

“Ah, Ah, I gotta hear you say it.”

Muriel peeks from behind his fingers. “Don’t make me say it…”

You don’t grant him any reprieve, only giving those just-barely-there rubs of your fingers over his clit. He keens, hips flexing up frustratedly. “Please,” he gasps out, “puh-put your f-fingers in my, inmyflower.” 

“Oh, good girl.” You grin, relishing the shiver that runs through him. He breathes out shakily when you pull his panties aside, fingers spreading him open. You whistle low, sliding your fingers through his folds, slick discharge and arousal gathering on your skin. “Now that’s the prettiest rose I’ve ever seen.” 

Muriel huffs, flustered. You take the time to position your thumb over his clit, rubbing slow circles as you ease a finger into him. His eyes twitch, jaw falling slack at the long-awaited stimulation. “Now that’s a pretty face.” You coo, leaning over to press a kiss against his jaw, teeth teasingly nipping at the skin. “And you’re taking me so well too…” Another finger slid in, two pumping in and out, curled up against the squishy walls of him.

“H-hughh,” his large hand carefully reaches down to where your hand meets his pussy, fingers brushing your wrist. It’s almost like he’s in awe of it, the way you make him feel, the sight of it. His clit sticks out and he can see the way it throbs and twitches when you press your fingers into a good spot. 

You take his hand in yours, the one not currently finger fucking him open, and squeeze it tight. “You’re so romantic, honeycomb.”

His whole body feels hot, like a never-ending fever. You always make him feel all…mushy and soft. You make him feel like he’s special and good, and he whimpers when you lean back up and take a good look at him, embarrassment running deep. But, he doesn’t think it’s a bad kind of embarrassment when it’s you. 

Muriel clenches down on your fingers when you drag them back out, teasing a third against his hole. “How wide do you want me to stretch you tonight, little lady?” You coo down at him, a devilish little thing. 

He swallows, his tongue feeling too thick in his mouth. He’s never been good at saying outright what he wants. “Wide,” he breathes out, thighs trembling while you languidly stroke over his folds. 

“Mm, three fingers?” You slowly slide the three in, savoring his shaking moan, before pulling them back out. Muriel whines at the loss, hips bucking up. 

“Or maybe four? Or did you want my whole hand? I know you can take it, I’ve seen you do it before, honey.” 

The man below you groans, turning his head to hide in the pillows. “You’re teasing me…” you hear him whine, his chest heaving with his worked-up breaths. 

“Oh, I know, I’m just so mean to you, aren’t I?” He spares you a knowing glance and you have the absolute pleasure of watching his jaw fall slack and his eyes roll when your fingers plunge back into him. He’s full with three, toes curling when you spread them. “Ah- ah- ah-,”

You pick up the pace, thumbing his clit with every thrust of your fingers—and oh how he squirms, his thighs tensing and shaking, his stomach crunching and body twisting when you relentlessly fuck his sweet spot. Muriel makes such lovely sounds, gurgled little cries as he tugs at his own hair, still squeezing your hand that he won’t let go.

“That’s it, you’re so close, aren’t you?” He nods curtly, biting back a gasp. 

“Puh-please, please, I-I’m so close, I’m so close–” His hips buck up once, erratic, teeth grinding. The way he speaks is almost a hiss, hushed and strained. The mossy green of his eyes bounce across your face, lips open in a gape, almost frantic. “I-it’s, it's gonna–”

“I know, just let it out, honeycomb,” you lift his hand to your lips, kissing his sweaty knuckles, and that seems to be what sends him over that beautiful crescendo.

 Muriel gasps, strangled, a moan creeping from his scratched throat like gentle hands around his jugular. His body tenses, hips thrusting up–and he squirts, a forceful arc of it spraying from his spasmed core. It paints your stomach, wetting your skin and spitting with each languid thrust of your fingers. “Thaaat’s it, good girl.”

It seems like almost an eternity that he shudders and shakes, his trembling body slowly falling back until he’s boneless against furs and knits. Muriel distantly smells himself when you free your fingers from his cunt, and perhaps he's too worn to be shameful, only crooning softly at the gape. Sweat and cum soaks the hem of his panties, cooling in the settling air. A log from the hearth falls with dimming embers and it becomes clear just how wrapped up in him you’ve been. 

“Thank you.” Muriel breathes out, chest still heaving, glistened with sweat under the lace. Wordlessly, you lean down to kiss him, falling between his legs. He reciprocates eagerly, lips parting for your tongue, a shiver riding up his spine. You can feel the heat radiating from his skin, the wetness of your stomach pressing against his. Whether he notices or simply doesn't care is up to you, a languid kiss all that matters. 

He’s the one to break the silence after a lifetime of kisses and shared breaths, his arms coming to wrap around your back, his foot nudging your ankle. 

“There’s another scene, after this one.” 

You grin, bottom lip caught between your teeth. He blushes brilliantly, but the proposal is still there, up to you to grab. 

“Enlighten me then, honeycomb.”