#edinburgh you have one job

[zaynfag]

“if the crowd is loud enough i’ll throw my hat” GET LOUD !!!!!!! LET US SEE HIS HAIR !!!!!!

[strangelittlestories]

The warrior lay there, blood bubbling out of her mouth, as the world went dark around her … when It appeared.

“So this is how it happens, huh?” She coughed and spluttered and the words were barely audible. Still, it heard her. “This is how I go?”

The body of the entity that appeared to her was barely a shape in the air, a shimmer of an idea in the outline of a person. The wings, though, those were clear as day, a great expanse of shining bone and feathers that curled around the world.

“Be afraid.” It said in a voice that did not disturb the smoke-choked air.

“I thought the line was ‘be not afraid’.”

“I used to say this.” Its voice made the warrior feel pleasantly lightheaded, like she was floating above the world cradled in careful hands. Though that could have been the blood loss. “But people were always afraid in any case. They were right to be.”

“Hard not to be. Angel of death and all,” she tried to smile, “That is what you are right? This is my moment?”

“Yes.” It knelt beside her. Its wings filled her world with softness. “This is your allotted time.”

“Alright,” the warrior murmured, “No regrets. I fought the good fight. I wasn't a kind person, but kind people lived because of me. I can take whatever comes next."

“No. You cannot.”

“Is it that bad?”

“When you pass, you will rest.”

“And … that's bad?”

“Have you ever been good at resting?” Several eyes opened in the wings that surrounded the warrior. One winked at her. “Besides, you are a softer soul than you will admit. You, too, are worth preserving.”

“I don't understand.”

“An Angel of Death is also an Angel of Life. I would take the former and give you more of the latter.”

The warrior stirred, propping herself up on her spear.

“I thought it was my moment? My ‘allotted time’?”

“It was. But I stopped doing what was allotted many turns of the stars ago.”

“You're… fallen?” She tightened her grip on her spear.

“If you like.” The eyes in the entity's wings blinked. “Though it may be more accurate to say I dived than fell.”

The warrior knew she should smite this creature, but she found an unfamiliar feeling staying her hand: curiosity.

“Why?”

“My purpose is to give death to those who need it and life to those who are needed. I did my job too well, so I fell. Then I kept doing it, so I fell again and again and again. I am now the barest echo of what I was, many steps descended from righteousness.”

The warrior was horrified. Was this the most damned creature in creation? But she also could not help but be impressed. It was profane, but it still felt somehow … holy.

“Why me?”

“Why not you?”

“What would you have me do?”

“Live. Live and fight. Live and fight and then, when the fighting is done, rediscover your softness.”

“Will saving me … will damn you once more?”

“Surely, it will.” As the entity spoke, its wings wrapped tight around the warrior, their feathers seeming to soak into her wounds and deep into her heart, filling her up with light. “But I have not found the bottom yet.”

The warrior gulped.

“Alright. Let's fudging go.”

Light. Light. Light. Endless precious, stolen light.

---

Enjoy my writing? Please consider supporting my latest creative endeavour, Poor Life Choices. Currently crowdfunding for a run at the Edinburgh Fringe!

https://igg.me/at/poorlifechoices/x#/

[thetruthwilloutsworld]

EXCLUSIVE: Outlander star Sam Heughan will star as the murderous tyrant in Macbeth, marking his debut with the Royal Shakespeare Company, and he tells Deadline that returning to the stage for the first time in 12 years "is the drug I'm looking for."

The actor, who has cropped his locks for the role, says it's "exciting" to be treading the boards again now that filming is compete on the eighth and final season of the time-traveling drama Outlander, in which he plays the the dashingly charming Jamie Fraser who finds true love with Claire, played by Caitríona Balfe.

During our conversation, Heughan suggested that Starz will show season 8 of Outlander "towards next year." The prequel series Outlander: Blood of My Blood premieres on August 8, "so I feel it'd probably be out next year," he reveals.

Macbeth, to be directed by Daniel Raggett, will begin performances at RCS' The Other Place studio venue in Stratford-upon-Avon on October 9, running through December 6.

Lia Williams, the distinguished, classically trained thespian, will play Lady Macbeth. She's also a prominent presence on TV, having appeared as Wallis Simpson in The Crown and as Isabel Kirby, the duplicitous MI6 British intelligence service deputy chief of staff in Peacock's hit The Day of the Jackal.

"I was looking for something that would really excite me. I've been doing Outlander for 11 years, and obviously it was brilliant, but I wanted something else,” says Heughan. "And I went to the RSC to see Edward II there, and I just felt that buzz. I sat in the auditorium and I felt that excitement, sort of the churn in my stomach as the lights went down and I was like, 'Yeah, this is the drug I'm looking for.' And it's terrifying. And I think that's a good thing to be scared again."

The last time Heughan was on stage was in Batman Live, where he played the Caped Crusader in uncomfortably snug tights.

He says the show "was not quite Shakespeare or the RSC, but it was an international tour going all around from the whole of UK and Europe to the U.S. We did Las Vegas, we played in Bueno Aires and the O2 in London hanging upside down, wearing PVC."

Merrily, he quips: "I dunno, maybe there'll be a bit of that in Macbeth as well. You never know."

Completing work on the Outlander series presented the perfect opportunity for the actor to return to his stage roots.

"I think that's it," he agrees.

The actor trained at the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama, now called the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland. "I did a classical theater training, and I built my career on theater. That's what I did way before I got any sort of TV jobs and trying to support myself in Scottish theater and then in London as well.

And it's obviously a dream. I remember just going full circle like, going back to the very first show I ever did in youth theater. I was an extra on the main stage of the Royal Lyceum theatre in Edinburgh in a production of Macbeth. And for me it's The Scottish Play [for superstitious reasons, thespians often refer to Macbeth by that title] obviously, but it's a play that's super-exciting. It's one of his shortest. It's bloody. It's got some incredible writing and some really fascinating character at the center of it. And I just remember being in the library as a drama student, reading books about various famous actors playing that role."

Heughan remembers seeing Adrian Noble's RSC production of the play touring Scotland with Derek Jacobi in the title role "and just being in awe of them and dreaming that one day I'd be there."

The closest he got was playing the roles of Malcolm, a soldier and a "murderer" as the program note lists it, opposite Liam Brennan as the Thane who would be king, in a production that played the Royal Lyceum and Nottingham Playhouse in 2008, directed by Lucy Pitman-Wallace.

As a student, he watched the video version of Patrick Stewart essaying the once loyal and valiant general-turned-treasonous killer of a king in director Rupert Goold's celebrated production that played the West End and Broadway.

Importantly, he watched the thrilling filmed adaptation of Macbeth starring Ian McKellen and Judi Dench. In 1976, Trevor Nunn had directed the play for the RSC at The Other Place, and it's now regarded as one of the greatest productions of The Scottish Play ever staged.

"The last people to do [Macbeth] in that theatre wwere Ian McKellen and Judi Dench," Heughan observes, "so we're very lucky."

There will be ghosts in that house, I suggest.

Heughan laughs but says in all seriousness: "There will be, and I hope we can draw upon their talent and their expertise."

The tragedy of Macbeth is that, upon hearing the three witches' prophecy that he would become King of Scotland, he becomes tyrannical and, with his wife's help, he murders the monarch who stands in his way. But is his missus to blame, or, I ask Heughan, am I being kind to Macbeth?

"What's so great about Shakespeare," he says brightly, "is that it can be read in many different ways and portrayed in different ways.

And you could say, 'Well, it's always been in him and he's an evil man and he wanted to do this.'

Or you could say that he is on this path that he's been set on by some supernatural powers or it's his ambition. Or in my case, I think perhaps it might be more that he loves someone so much and he wants to fulfill her ambition as well. But it's about making one decision and then the consequences of that, and he just can't get out of it and takes it way too far. But yeah, I mean, obviously he starts down this slippery slope and can't stop it and goes really far with it, but it's super-fascinating. I mean, we haven't started rehearsals yet, but we'll be looking at what is it that drives him and all of the superstition around it as well."

In terms of wrongheaded, misguided polices, I mention, mischievously, if the White House might be a suitable location for the play to be set.

"Yeah, again, I think it's the beauty of Shakespeare is you can always draw parallels, and that's why it's still so popular now. You can look at any country or anything that's going on anywhere and see that in the wrong hands, power corrupts. I mean, he really does shut everyone down and start to destroy anyone that can pose a threat to him. So yeah, I won't be playing it with a ginger wig or in a suit."

Or an overlong blue tie, I add wickedly.

"Well, you never know. Maybe I will," he responds wryly.

Actually, Heughan and Williams have had discussions with director Raggett about where to set it.

"We've been talking about lots of different ways of portraying it and whether that's, I feel, been done before. But you could set it the conflict in Ukraine or on the Russian border or whatever, or you could set it, as you suggested, in America right now. It could be kind of set anywhere. So we haven't fully decided, but I think we know which direction we're going."

We chatted during a break from a table read of the text. Just before our meeting in London, he got stopped by three Spanish tourists "and they were excited. I'm surprised they recognized me," he says, laughing, "because I've shaved my head for the role."

Explaining his rationale for the new look, Heughan says, "It's also about a new skin and a new me and new beginnings and shedding a bit of Jamie Fraser, though he was a wig as well. But I think it's an interesting look. Certainly I'm getting used to it."

When he saw Raggett's production of Edward II starring Daniel Evans, who's also the RSC's co-artistic director with Tamara Harvey, he says that he felt "that excitement and that fear that got me into theater and made me an actor in the first place. And I think that's what I want to do with this play. I want people to come to see Macbeth and be properly scared."

Working on Outlander for 11years, he says, "dominated" his life. "It becomes your life a hundred percent. And in some ways that's fantastic, and I've been very lucky. I've obviously been able to do some movies and TV shows and things, but it does define you and it also dictates where you live and what time you have and where you are in the world physically and where your energy goes. So this is really cool. It's a chance for me to sort of, I don't know, find out who I am again or where I was and see what the next step is. And it feels like home already going into Stratford-upon-Avon. ... It feels familiar and walking onto the stage and soaking that up. So it's a part of myself that I've perhaps had forgotten about."

Also, he adds that he feels proud as a native of Scotland to be playing a role that's associated with the country of his birth.

He's thrilled that the cast is "predominantly all Scottish actors." There's a great pool of talent in Scotland, he boasts, "and a great vibrancy and energy," adding, "I'm so excited to have this little bit of Scotland in Stratford-upon-Avon flying our flag."

Heughan also has announcements planned for his Sassenach Spirits brand. Perhaps he'll gift wrap a few bottles as first-night gifts for his cast mates.

There's also sadness with moving on from Outlander. He had lunch with Balfe last week. "It was so lovely to see her. She's obviously in London as well, and so we're all very, very close still and we're always sending each other messages and stuff. So that's, I guess, one of the great parts of our show. We really have this lovely friendship now, and I'm sure that we'll follow each other in subsequent years."

And he misses the crew too. "They're not just crew, they're family, they're friends now."

There's talk, he notes, of them doing Comic-Con "to sort of celebrate the prequel show."

And he's not ruling out the possibility of an Outlander one-off TV special in the future.

"Who knows?" he chuckles. "Who knows? I know they did that with Downton Abbey and others. So you never know. Maybe the ginger wig is still around somewhere."

Article 2 June 2025

[lisbeth-kk]

Sherlock fandom.

Changes Hurt

John muses about how different his life would have been if he’d only followed his instincts thirteen years ago. He clutches his hand over his heart. It aches. The pain is just as familiar as his other discomforts; his star-shaped scar, which can be forgotten for weeks, but then the weather changes, and the throbbing pain returns full force. As if it wants to make up for its absence. And then, the most infuriation of the three, his leg. After he and Rosie left London, John has never been without his cane.

Rosie greets him cheerfully, and John’s heart hurts like it’s been stabbed with a knife. What he’s about to tell her, is not going to be pleasant. 

“Sherlock says hello,” Rosie says, looking expectantly and a bit snooty at her father.

“How is he?” John manages.

His eyes sting with unshed tears, but he needs to be firm now. Their future depends on it, though he knows an upcoming catastrophe when he sees one.

“Same as usual. Missing you. Us.”

Her jaw tightens, and she cocks her head in defiance.

“I know, love,” John sighs. “Sit down, please. I need to talk to you. About our situation.”

“What situation? Are you planning to move back to London? You know how much I loathe this place, and – “

“Please, Rosie.”

This is worse than he feared. He takes a deep breath, bracing himself for the inevitable outburst.

“I’ve been offered another job. Better paid, which is preferable. It’s not like we’re rolling in dough here,” he chuckles.

The blank stare Rosie gives him, makes him blush.

“So, yeah, we are moving, but not to London.”

“Where?”

Her tone is dangerously calm. It’s a tone he’s used himself numerous times. As a captain in the army, and while berating Sherlock, or the Yarders for calling his best friend – 

“Dad!”

He’s lost himself in the memories of a happier life. A life where…no, he can’t go there now. Needs to focus.

“Edinburgh. It’s a great – “

“What? But that’s miles away. I can’t visit Sher – “

“You can visit, just not as often as every other week,” John says softly.

“I hate you!” she yells and runs from the room.

“No, you don’t sweetheart,” John whispers, as tears roll down his cheeks and his heart breaks.

The front door slams so hard behind his daughter, that the picture hanging on the wall beside it falls to the floor, shattering the glass. It’s a photo of Rosie as a toddler. Only John knows who snapped the picture. The man living alone in 221B Baker Street.

***

John has texted Rosie for hours, but she doesn’t reply, and when he calls, an automatic voice tells him the device is turned off.

He starts to call her friends, but no one has seen her. To be expected. John is just stalling. He knows where she is. 

John never had the heart to pull Rosie away from the people she loves back in London. After all, quite a few of them are her godparents. Molly, Mrs Hudson, Sherlock. The latter was the only one who didn’t chastise him for leaving Baker Street. Both women were livid, and Greg tried to talk some sense into him, but he was determined. And stubborn. 

After the disaster with Eurus, John decided that a life in Sherlock’s orbit was too dangerous. His daughter deserved to keep her only living parent at her side. Sherlock hadn’t even pleaded with him, but said he understood. It had been uttered quietly, but it roared loudly inside John’s head for weeks afterwards. He knew it was a lie. Over the years, John had grown more astute, and could tell when Sherlock was shamming. The pain in those cerulean eyes before he turned away from John, contradicted his statement like a neon sign. John broke Sherlock’s heart that day, and his own heart cracked so thoroughly it was almost audible. It was the most excruciating pain John had ever felt.

***

Please tell me Rosie is with you.

On a case. She left hours ago. SH.

John called Mrs Hudson.

“She isn’t here, John,” his former landlady informed him.

It stung a little that she’d stopped calling him “dear”. His own fault of course.

“Thank you, Mrs Hudson,” he said and hung up.

Molly hadn’t seen Rosie since last week. She tried to comfort him by saying she’d probably just gone for a walk.

“Just like you did. Before…”

John’s heart broke a little more. It was nothing for it. He – 

What’s happened? Have you found her? SH

We had a row. Said she hated me. Ran out. Phone’s turned off.

She doesn’t hate you, John. SH

No, but she was in quite a state. 

I’ll contact my network. They’ll keep an eye out. Mycroft too. We will find her, John. SH

John sobs like he hasn’t done since the day he left London. Sherlock’s assurance is like balm. He’s missed him more than anything. They haven’t texted in ages. Not after Rosie got old enough to arrange their meetings herself. 

He continues to text her, despite his knowledge that they won’t reach her since her phone is turned off. But he needs to do something.

“How about getting your stubborn arse on the next train from this godforsaken place, and come to London, old man.”

It’s unnerving to hear his daughter’s voice in his head. There’s only been one other person who’s invaded his mind like this: Sherlock.

***

The quiet truth is this: John has missed London and his best friend like an amputated limb. How could he ever think his life would be whole without living in a flat in central London; the only place that’s felt like home.

John runs towards the gigantic statue at St Pancras – The Meeting Place, his cane forgotten. A bit to the side, away from the tourists wanting to take selfies, two people stand close together. A tall man in a luxurious coat, and a teenage girl who clings to the man, her face buried in the woollen fabric.

John’s heart quickens its pace. He feels alive. It’s time to move. Back home to 221B.

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

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[sgiandubh]

Sometimes, the stars align

Quite belated, this year (unlike for C), but still...

To that shy boy with Social Security glasses his mom managed to get him with great efforts.

To the theatre usher that dreamt he'd once be on stage.

To that nice boy working overtime in that Edinburgh student cybercafe.

To that West Coast backpacker thinking about what to do with his life.

To the one who failed and started it all over again, failed and started it all over again, failed and started it all over again. Over and over and over again, until the stars aligned, like they sometimes do, after all.

To the bicycle delivery boy, the Harrod's sales assistant, the bartender who later turned a struggling job into a business project of his own.

Happy birthday, S. May you find your true path - whatever that might be. In Light and in Truth: no more double entendres, no more white lies, no more hiding.

You have already brought so much to this world. I see great things.

And I am not the only one.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

if I remember right, a year or two ago you made a list of recommendations for the Edinburgh Fringe. Any recommendations for this year? Already got Steffan on the list, obviously

I did! Okay, okay, here's what I've got this year. Caveat: I personally have not been up there yet (I'm going in a few days), but these are things I saw in preview/have heard great things about.

Steffan Alun: Free Standup, but at What Cost

Venue 156: PBH's Free Fringe @ Banshee Labyrinth - Banquet Hall, 21.30-22.30

Back again! Eighth Fringe, this. The show is an hour, but that includes a 15 minute warm-up act, then Steff for 45 mins. He does this so that reviewers won't come and ruin the vibe.

Anyway this year he talks a bit about being Welsh and how he is therefore grumpy with Bristolian Tesco self-checkout machines

.

Jake Baker: Rule Breaker!

Venue 78: PBH's Free Fringe @ Canons' Gait - Lower, 16.30-17.30

I love Jake, he's lovely. He's a gentle soul and has an excellent delivery style; very warm and deceptively witty. Normally he goes with Just The Tonic and is given a searing hot basement in the sky that smells of mould for a room, but this year he's in Canons' Gait, which is much much nicer.

His blurb: A rule-breaker, a risk taker, a wave-maker and a convention-shaker – all phrases never before used to describe Jake Baker. But when a frustrating game of Alan Turing-themed Monopoly leaves him questioning the laws of the game, he finds himself turning that analytical impulse to bigger things.

.

Stephanie Laing: Rudder

Venue 300: Underbelly, George Square - The Wee Coo, 14.50-15.50

This show is particularly Tumblr-friendly, actually; it's described as 'neurodiversity-led'. However, it's a show with a content warning, although all the ticket page is saying is "themes" (insert Stephen Fry meme here); so, <SPOILER> she talks about withdrawing consent while sleeping with a FIB, and him continuing anyway. She talks about it in a very gentle way, avoiding Big Words, and it's very heavy on aftercare </SPOILER>

Her blurb: A comedy dance show about balance. Stephanie has a history of falling over a lot, accidentally kneeing herself in the face, and falling in love with total kn*bheads. In this show she uses a mixture of stand-up and dance to talk about bodies, sex, dancing, liking yourself, consent and healing. Also, there are cartoon bears and burlesque.

.

Erin McKinnie: The Faff Chronicles

Venue 108: Hoots @ The Apex - Hoot 4, 16.50-17.50

An Edinburgh local! Good solid standup for those who like such things. New-ish, but one to watch, she's very good. Don't be surprised to see her take off

Her blurb: What a faff! Erin McKinnie, a rising star on the Scottish comedy circuit, talks about faffing through early adulthood – from rogue adventures to living the "below-deck life" on cruise ships – she finds the funny in every bizarre encounter in this uplifting show that asks: Do we really need a life plan? Or... are we all just winging it? A brilliant, snort-worthy giggle-fest about exiting your 20s, facing life indecision and chasing answers for those big questions, all the while trying to convince your mother that this is a real job...

.

Alexander Bennett: Emotional Daredevil

Venue 24: Gilded Balloon Patter House - Coorie, 18.20-19.20

Dark feelings show with a really positive, optimistic message and a fun concept. It uses audience participation, but that's not compulsory, you're safe.

Blurb: I'm the emotional daredevil, and for my next feat, I need someone's help. A show about risk, for the unsatisfied and traumatised, from a Chortle Award nominee

.

Alex Franklin: Gurl Code

Venue 61: Underbelly, Cowgate - Delhi Belly, 20.25-21.25

Alex does a fun thing each year where she takes her publicity budget and rather than spending it on publicity, she hides it somewhere in Edinburgh and then reveals a clue to its location every day. This tells you something about her, I think

Her blurb: In 2024, trans girl Alex (me) started HRT. Now she (me) feels the most alive she's (me's) ever felt; and she wants to make you feel alive too, or die trying. A ludicrous, musical, chaotic, joyful show about the colours of the world becoming slowly brighter and giving people furniture via the tube. Also being trans.

.

Character Building Experience

Venue 49: Bedlam Theatre - Bedlam Theatre, 20.00-21.00

It's a D&D show - the MC Sasha Ellen makes a bunch of 40-minute simple campaigns and a selection of pre-rolled characters to do them, and then gets three comedians each time to play them. You know the drill. Good quality fun, and different each time, since you'll never see the same campaign/comedian mix.

.

2 Truths, 1 Lie

Multiple venues and times (search the EdFringe app or website to see them all), but I recommend catching the 3pm show on either the 25th or 26th August at Venue 108: Hoots @ The Apex - Hoot 1 for reasons I shall not share here (ooh, mysterious)

Fun panel-like show! Often MC'd by Steff, especially if you catch one of the 3pm shows. The format is:

Three comedians each declare a statement. Two are true, but one comedian is lying. The MC doesn't know the liar, nor does the audience. The audience gets to ask questions of the comedians; at the end, they vote on who they think the liar is.

(The prize for winning is a smug sense of satisfaction.)

.

Anyway, once I'm up there I will possibly have more, but currently, that's my list

[kayrma]

See You At the Next Stop

Lily Evans meets a posh-looking bloke with messy hair on the way back to London, and for once in her life she actually enjoys a train ride. Maybe having a spontaneous seat partner isn't that bad after all.

Read on AO3 (2.9k words)

happy birthday, lily evans-potter! didn't have enough time to finish my punk!lily fic but i realized i never actually posted this fic from two years ago to tumblr so this is my contribution for today <3

Lily stared down the document in front of her, willing her brain to start writing words again. She had been on the train for nearly two hours now, travelling from Edinburgh to London. Visiting home had been yet another disaster, with Petunia continuing to judge Lily for moving to London after school and finding an inner-city job.  Her sister liked to say that Lily was wasting her money trying to live on her own (which was a lie, Lily had a lovely roommate named Mary), and that she’d be better off staying home and finding a husband. Sometimes, Lily thought Petunia was stuck in the nineteenth century, but she blamed most of that on her horrendous boyfriend Vernon, who worked for a drilling company or something else of the sort – it seemed far too boring to keep track of. 

Really, Lily had only gone home to visit their mum, following the two-year anniversary of her father’s death. His death had hit their family hard, despite them all knowing it was coming. Her father had suffered from cancer in his final years, but it still hurt knowing he was gone. Mr. Evans was Lily’s biggest supporter, encouraging her to attend Cambridge despite the monetary toll it would put on their family. He had helped her search for scholarships, and she ended up going to university for much lower than she ever could have expected without her father’s help. He was the one who helped her move to London, being there to help her move into her tiny flat despite him slowly growing weaker. She missed him every day, and she missed her mum, but she needed to be back in the city for work tomorrow.

Snapping out of her painful memories, Lily looked back at the half-empty document, with only a title and an introduction on it, not even in Times New Roman yet. She switched the font, the Arial irritating her, and leaned back into her seat. Even though she was on the high-speed rail, the train ride had felt impossibly long. She was seated next to some messy-haired Indian bloke, his glasses on top of his head and earbuds plugged in as he typed away on his own laptop. The man was gorgeous, to say the least, especially since he had unbuttoned the top collar of his dress shirt, and was wearing Converse with his slacks. Really, she couldn’t not admire him. Lily had a personal policy of not sitting next to men if she could avoid it, but he looked around her age and seemed relatively unassuming when he got on at Newcastle about an hour after her, and Lily found herself unable to say no. A part of Lily had wanted to ask him for his name, to know more about him, but he seemed to be a little bit of a mess as he got on the train. All he offered her was an apologetic smile as he struggled to shove his duffel into the overhead compartment as the train started moving. She smiled back at him, perhaps a little too eagerly in comparison to his semi-grimace. He had rolled up his sleeves as he sat down, and what was Lily supposed to do but stare at his well-defined tan forearms? He probably worked in some posh company, considering his attire (not that Lily could judge, she was still wearing business casual as well). Any time she peeked over at his laptop, he was typing furiously into some form of sheets that she truly could not decipher no matter how much she wanted to try. Looking away from him and turning her attention back to her own laptop, her brain felt like it was about to melt. 

Deciding to take a break, Lily closed her laptop, ridding her mind of thoughts about her struggling article. She pulled out her phone, and seeing that her plan was about to run out for the month, she started to play some silly game that didn’t require any data. At that moment, the messy-haired bloke looked over, saying “Oh, I love that game!”

He had said it extremely loud, presumably because he was blasting music in his earbuds, but Lily laughed and turned towards him.

“Really? All my mates make fun of me for playing it – what level are you on?”

“Oh, don’t worry, my mates do the same. They say it’s because I still act like a ‘bloody child’ but I think I just enjoy a bit of mindless fun, y’know?”

Lily nodded, glad to see that she had something in common with the gorgeous bloke. He hadn’t told her what level he was on, but his smile and enthusiasm more than made up for it.

“Regardless, I’ll let you get back to the game, this project might be the death of me.”

She slumped back as gracefully as she could, disappointed that he was busy, but she shot him another smile and went back to playing her silly little game. After exhausting her thumbs, she genuinely felt like she had lost brain cells, choosing to just put away her phone and relax with some music. Putting her head against the seat, she closed her eyes and tried to stop thinking entirely. However, no matter how much she tried to empty her mind, the bloke next to her kept popping into her mind. She ended up just embracing it, allowing her mind to fill with thoughts of who he could possibly be as she felt herself drifting off into sleep. 

Lily had no idea when she woke up, but she felt an impossible crick in her neck as she opened up her eyes. Quickly checking her watch for the time, she realized she had only been asleep for a little over half an hour, and sighed in relief – she’d still have time to try and work on her article again. However, as she tried to get up, she realized there was a weight on top of her head. Glancing upwards, she realized she had fallen asleep on the bloke’s shoulder, and he was leaning back on top of her head as his hands were stilled on his laptop. His shoulders were sturdy and broad, and Lily thought that she wouldn’t mind staying there forever. Not wanting to disturb him as he seemed utterly relaxed, Lily stayed put, hoping he’d wake up soon. 

After a few minutes (that felt like a lovely forever), his head lifted off of hers, and she took the opportunity to escape. Before she could even look at him, she heard the sound of his neck cracking as he stretched it, and Lily’s jaw dropped wide open. 

“That sounded like it hurt,” she commented discreetly, hoping he wouldn’t take it the wrong way. 

He smiled at her, glasses almost slipping off his nose now, rather than tangled in his messy hair. Shaking his head, he said “I always do it to wake myself up, it feels rather good actually.” The bloke proceeded to crack each one of his knuckles, and then his wrist. Lily grimaced at the noise, but couldn’t help herself from laughing. She figured she should probably apologize to him for falling asleep on him, even though she didn’t know how she ended up on his shoulder. 

“I’m Lily, by the way. Sorry I fell asleep on you. I’ve been working on an article and my brain genuinely felt like it might have melted if I hadn’t taken a break.”

“No worries Lily, it’s lovely to meet you,” he stuck out his hand, “Potter. James Potter.”

“Bond-like, are we?” Lily took his hand and gave him a firm handshake, trying to put on as serious of a face as she could in order to mirror his own expression. 

“Of course, milady Evans. What takes you to London this fine weekend?”

“Why Mr. Potter, I’m heading back to work. I visited my mum in Edinburgh, and I’ve got a roommate and a flat and a job to get back to tomorrow.”

“Is that so?” James flashed a smirk that would have brought her to her knees if she hadn’t already been sitting down. “Well Evans, I’ve just done the same, except that I visited my mum and dad in Newcastle, and am heading back to the flat I share with my brother and our friends, and a job as well.”

Lily giggled, of all things, and looked down to realize that their hands were still intertwined from when he had reached out to shake them. She dropped it before she could get too flustered, and tried not to notice the disappointed look on James’ face. 

“Right then, Potter, where do you work? I’d bet it’s somewhere posh, with the clothing you’re wearing and those sheets you were typing away on.”

Clearly surprised she had noticed, James’ quick reaction gave away that she seemed to have gotten everything right.

“Stalking me already Evans? And then falling asleep on me? Have you got some sort of ploy going on here, an evil scheme or whatnot?”

“Oh of course, I’m a journalist for The Daily Prophet, you see, and you’re the subject of my next story. James Potter: The Posh Bloke with Messy Hair and Unfinished Work.”

James let out a loud laugh at that, startling the other people in the full cabin. They all seemed to glare at him, despite his laugh being perfectly beautiful in her opinion.  He raised a thick eyebrow, questioning her with just that one expression.

“Alright, well you’re not the subject of my next article Potter, sorry to disappoint. But I do really work for The Daily Prophet, and I’m afraid I’m the one with unfinished work seeing as my article’s barely hit a page yet.”

“And you’re sure it can’t be about me? My messy hair just won’t do for The Prophet?”

“Afraid not, sorry, unless you’ve got a secret as to how you manage to keep it that messy. You’ve run your hands through it more than I can count in just the time we’ve been talking, and it’s not shown a single sign of being tamed.”

“Well Evans, I suppose I’ll let you in on a secret then.” He leaned in close to her, his lips almost brushing her ear as his breath made her shudder. “My dad’s actually the creator of Sleakeazy’s Hair Products, and I refuse to use it out of principle.”

Lily’s head snapped around so quickly it nearly gave her whiplash. She looked at James with an incredulous look on her face – there was no way he was telling the truth. But his face looked so earnest, completely devoid of his teasing demeanor, and Lily ended up just staring at him in bafflement. He snickered as she continued to stare him down, and his hands went right back up to muss up his hair.

“Yeah, I know. My brother ended up with the good hair genes, considering Sleakeazy’s has never really been able to do much for me anyways. Well, he’s not really my brother, we took him in after he ran away from his shitty family, but he’s my brother in everything but blood.”

James seemed like he was about to continue rambling, almost like his mouth was moving quicker than his brain. Lily reached out to put her hand on his wrist, but whether she did it to calm him down or for her own benefit, she didn’t quite know. 

“That’s really sweet of you and your family, James,” she gave him a small smile, “You’re clearly of the good sort. Maybe I will write my article about you after all. James Potter: A Bloke with Messy Hair and a Penchant for Being a Good Person.”

“All that from a bit of rambling, eh, Evans?” He was evidently smug, happy with the perception he’d given of himself. Something about his smirk made Lily want to wipe it clean off his face with a kiss, but it was far too early and far too public of an area to do that. Instead, she humored him with a laugh, and pulled her laptop out of her bag. 

Opening a new document, she enlarged the font into the awful old-Gothic newspaper style that came preloaded, and wrote up all the silly titles she’d come up with today. James reached for it slowly, wordlessly asking permission to take her laptop. She nodded and passed it to him, curious to see what he’d possibly type. He deleted all the words she’d put in, and changed the font to fucking Lobster, of all things, and then turned the laptop away from her. James seemed to be taking his time to think about what he was about to type, mussing up his hair yet again. After a minute or so of anticipation, he turned the laptop back to her, and it read: “James Potter: A Bloke with Messy Hair Who’d Like to Take One Lily Evans on a Date.”

Lily gave him what might have been the goofiest grin of all time, snatched back her laptop, changed the font to a respectable Times, enlarged it, and wrote in “Yes” so that it would fill up the page. James smiled back at her with the same reckless abandon, and leaned over to hold her hand. And then the computer nearly slipped off her lap.

They both reached for it, knocking heads in the process, but managed to save it from a horrific death on the train (she was a journalist, she needed to make use of her sensationalizing skills sometimes), and they both started laughing. They kept going even as she quickly put her laptop back in its bag. The passengers around them were definitely staring at them with irritation now, but that meant nothing to her if it meant seeing James’ smile. She leaned back into him and grabbed his hand to hold it properly this time, looking up at him like she could ravish him right there. He stared back at her with the same dark look in her eyes, and kissed her forehead and her nose. 

God, this boy and his ability to make her giggle. She whispered, “If you’d like to kiss me, you can just do it, y’know?”

He leaned in for a chaste kiss, “Right, but if I kissed you like I wanted to right now, we’d probably get a complaint for public indecency. Besides, it’s just another half hour to London, and my flat’s not too far from the station.” And then he winked at her. Lily gaped at him with an open mouth, and James pushed it back closed after a beat, saying “Don’t catch any flies in there, love.” Truly, James Potter was an enigma she could write an article on. 

“Well, I suppose I’ll get back to writing my article then. It seems I might be busy after we get off this train.” 

James stared her down as she pulled her laptop back out of its back, tied up her hair, and for extra flair, picked his glasses off his head and put them on. 

“Fuck, nevermind, you’re blind as a bat, Potter,” Lily blinked furiously, and shoved them back onto his face. James ruffled his hair (of course he did), and reopened his own work. Before he started working though, he reached over and pulled her closer to him, so much so that she was nearly on his lap, and then took his arm right back away once she was squished into him. Embracing the position, Lily opened a new document, abandoning the pages she had previously written, deciding that her next article would just have to be about something more lighthearted than the current foreign affairs of the UK government; her boss Minerva could probably appreciate some good news anyway. Pulling up the notes of an old interview she had done. Finally finding a rhythm as she typed away, Lily was startled by the “London, next stop!” that blared over the train’s PA system. She glanced over at James, who seemed just as rattled, and they both put their things away in unison. As everyone else on the trains stood from their seats to take their luggage, James immediately bumped his head as he got up.

“Bloody hell, these have no right being so low,” He grumbled as he stretched out and reached for his duffel.

“Sure you won’t need help with your bag this time, Potter?” Lily felt the need to tease him, just to humble him with her first impression of him from when he boarded the train. As if to prove a point, James swiped her bag off the overhead carry bin as well, and held on to both of them as the cabin started to clear out. Lily did a final check of their seats, and lightly jogged to follow him out.

“Well Potter, I recall you saying your flat wasn’t too far from the station. Are you planning on making good on that?”

“Of course Evans, what kind of man do you take me for? I’ll have you know I don’t put out on the first date though, I’ll be making you food since my flat’s got a stellar kitchen.” She raised an eyebrow at him, willing him to continue, because she wanted to know what he could possibly be making for her. “My mum’s aloo tikki recipe, I think you’ll like it.”

“This feels like a dig at me for being half-Irish, but I never mentioned that, so I’ll accept it. I look forward to seeing your cooking skills since you’ve got the sort of hair that would catch on fire in a kitchen.”

James gave her that stunning smile again, and grabbed her hand as they walked out of the station, and on the way to his flat. Lily had a good feeling about this bloke with messy hair and enough charm to create a whole new world.

[phie04]

Inconvenience | g. clarke

Chapter 1 - Moving out

Word Count: 1.2K

summary: time for Noa to get out of her apartment, with the assistance of Mr Christopher Dixon

Warnings: extremely mild angst / sad undertones

noamurphy

liked by chrismd10, arthurtv and 10,373 others

noamurphy no bc why is packing the worst

comments open

chrismd10 you haven’t finished packing?

⮑ noamurphy perhaps not

arthurtv you’re moving in an hour you do realise?

⮑ noamurphy yes very aware thank you. and it’s more like in five minutes and not 1 hour

⮑ arthurtv so stop replying and get packing

fan1 omg is she moving in with the boys??

⮑ noamurphy never they’re too messy x

⮑ arthurtv I refute this comment

⮑ noamurphy okay lawyer

⮑ glambyflo god i can't wait for you to be here xx

⮑ noamurphy can't wait to see you!!

fan2 praying this means more Noa content with the boys

⮑ fan3 please!!! just having her occasionally appear in Chris’ videos isn’t enough

gkbarry_ everyone shut up my girl is moving to London

⮑ noamurphy all for you babe x

maxbalegde I need to meet you immediately as soon as you’ve moved in

⮑ noamurphy consider it done x

Noa felt on the verge of crying. On the one hand, she knew this was exactly what she wanted, moving out of her cramped apartment and away from her tormenting job, to a significantly better apartment and a small position at her dream architecture firm. Still, it was all very terrifying.

The move from Jersey to Edinburgh for university was hard enough, followed by a slightly rushed decision to do a masters in Cambridge meant that Noa never really felt settled wherever she went. So, when an apartment in the same building in which her childhood friends Arthur and Chris lived became available, she jumped at the chance. It wasn’t that her apartment was bad, it just didn’t feel like home - as hard as she tried, her room felt more like a dorm and office rolled into one, with plans and building ideas scattered around.

She rubbed her face, trying to stave of the feelings of exhaustion as more books were piled into one of the many half filled moving boxes. Regretting the four hours of sleep the night before, Noa reached to the side to grab her can of Monster, cursing when she found it empty.

"Knock knock! It's you're favourite person!" a voice called in the hallway, followed by the small pitter-patter of hobbit feet.

Noa rolled her eyes and stood up, grimacing at how her joints cracked as she stretched. "Either Arthur has dramatically shrunk, or something isn't right here."

Chris chuckled as he pulled Noa in for a hug, his eyebrows raising as he took in her state. "I see you've had an ample amount of sleep."

She chuckled, turning away from him to start closing the lids on the packing boxes. "You know I thrive off practically no sleep. That's how I did A Levels. And most of university." Noa shrugged.

"I'm aware. So how much packing have you got left to do? Because I'd preferably want to be on the road before it gets too busy." Chris asked, nervously glancing at his watch.

"Calm your tits Dixie we’ll be fine.” Noa grinned, walking into her cardboard box of a bedroom to grab her last couple of things. “But thank you though, I appreciate the help.”

Chris smiled, as he began stacking boxes in the hallway. “You’re welcome Noa, plus now that we’re living in the same building, I can just borrow all your stuff. And your food.”

“I thought the four of you were good at cooking? At least, when you have the right utensils and ingredients.”

“You weren’t the one who had to try those pizzas.” Chris shivered, trying to suppress the memories. “So it’s just these boxes yeah?”

“Sure is!” Noa called, emerging from the bedroom with a backpack and duffel bag. “One of the pros of renting a furnished place, don’t have to move all the furniture when you leave.”

“Are you gonna miss it?”

“Jesus no the mattress was horrible.”

“Not the furniture you idiot, the place in general.”

Noa shrugged as she did one last sweep of the kitchen, checking that she hadn’t left anything behind. “It was nice, but it just felt like the right time to move on.”

Chris nodded, picking up one of the lighter looking boxes, helping Noa ferry them into the hall.

As he grabbed the last box from the living room, curiosity got the better of him and he had a quick peek inside (Noa had written a note on the box telling him to specifically not look). His heart tightened at the sight of the blue football boots inside, mud streaks and grass stains still evident across soles and laces. The leather was deeply creased and the colour was worn around the eyelets of the laces, they used to be used frequently, but the small layer of dust that had collected on them proved that they’d been hidden away for a while.

Rifling around in the box more, he found the matching shin pads, as well as a collection of dog eared photos. Chris smiled fondly, holding the Polaroid up to the light so he could clearing see the people in the image.

It was himself, Noa and Arthur as kids - all grinning at each other. Noa’s hair was pulled up into a ponytail, which was once probably neat, but in the moment it was a mess, flyaways everywhere and her baby hairs sticking to her forehead. Arthur and Chris looked significantly younger, baby faces prominent, with a definitive lack of facial hair. Chris felt his eyes water with emotion, remembering the ecstasy of the moment. Even as an adult, the unbridled joy of seeing someone you cared for win their football league was contagious.

Though he couldn’t help but sigh sadly, knowing how much everything had changed.

“Christopher! I specifically wrote a note on that box for you not to rummage through that!” Noa sighed, taking it from his hands and repacking it quickly.

“Why not?”

“Because you’d get all like…this.” She replied, gesturing her arms up and down at him.

“You just gestured to all of me.” Chris said indignantly, screwing his face up in confusion.

“I’m aware.” Noa answered, pulling the front door open with a grunt, pushing some boxes with her left foot to hold it open. “Now let’s get this show on the road yeah?”

“You’re not even gonna acknowledge it?”

“Acknowledge what Chris?”

“Don’t do this Noa, c’mon.” He sighed, moving to block her view of the boxes that she was busying herself with. “You’ve still got those boots.”

“Sure do.” She replied shortly, piling a small valuables box on top of one marked ‘kitchen - don’t drop’. “Got all my football stuff in there.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Noa huffed. “What’s left to talk about? We’ve talked about it many times, I think we’ve covered everything. And it was five years ago Chris.”

Chris raised his eyebrows, not convinced. “Okay, okay, but if you want to talk, me and Arthur are here.”

“Very aware of that, thanks.”

author speaks: welcome to the first proper chapter! Hope you enjoyed it :)

[graceisinthelibrary]

I'd love the unexpected hug prompt no. 2 :)

Not sure this is what you expected, but it's what I came up with yesterday. I hope you like it!

December, 1935

“Dear me…” Audrey chuckled when she saw the mess on the floor in the hallway. In the middle of a bunch of old garments, consisting of old socks, darned shirts and trousers that had served their purposes, a whiny Jess sat, visibly enthroned and nervous. “What’s gotten into you?” She asked the golden retriever and kneeled down to stroke her fur. The dog’s distress was obvious. She panted heavily, her tail was moving out of control, and she snuggled up to Audrey. Moved, Audrey pulled the dog closer and placed her chin on her head. "Now, now, poppet," she whispered. "It's all alright."

“She thinks you’re leaving.” Audrey looked back over her shoulder. Siegfried Farnon was leaning against the doorframe of his study, nursing a drink. He looked hollow-eyed and cranky, a sight that wasn’t entirely new to her, but tonight he looked especially unhappy with himself and the world as a whole. The housekeeper figured his bad mood could be rooted in a letter that had arrived with the afternoon post. She had recognised the hand of Mr Farnon’s younger brother Tristan who was presently in Edinburgh, studying veterinary medicine. 

“But…” She looked back at the dog and picked up a sock that wasn’t just wet with dog slobber but also completely ruined now that Jess had chewed on it. “Why would you think that?” 

He pointed at the old worn out suitcase whose top had been torn open by Jess’ teeth. “Oh, she’s never liked suitcases. They alarm her…I know dogs that vomit all over the place when they’re stressed out, so I guess minor vandalism is an improvement. When she was small she used to bark at Tristan when he had to go back to boarding school after the holidays. I remember one time she bit into his backpack and his shoes to stop him from leaving.” He smiled wistfully upon the memory. “Those were the days. Now he’s at college and not even considering coming home for Christmas. They say dogs pick up on moods, you know. Maybe she picked up mine.” 

Feeling sorry not just for her employer, but also for the lively dog, Audrey cuddled Jess' fluffy ears. “You don’t need to be afraid, I’m not leaving,” she said, hoping Mr Farnon understood that she wasn’t just talking to his beloved pet. There was a nervous tension about him, something that told her he had truly passed on his mood onto his dog. As much as he knew that he could be difficult to put up with, he was like the proverbial leopard that couldn’t change his spots. 

“Now shift and let me do me work.” Reluctantly, Jess moved away and trotted over to Siegfried who bent down to stroke her head. In the meantime Audrey began to look at the shredded clothes and found most were unusable now. Jess had made a good job of destroying the used clothing collection. 

“Well, I thought we could donate the things to the Christmas bazaar, but I think Jess made sure that won’t happen.” She sighed and threw the things one by one back into the suitcase. 

“I should have paid attention to her sabotage,” Siegfried pointed out. “I’m sorry. I was lost in my paperwork.” 

“Oh well…” Audrey shrugged. She was used to the extra work that came with a busy veterinary practice and having pets. She didn’t mind the work, but the emotional pain that had caused it was nagging at her at times. 

“Why…” He looked at her as if he expected her to read his thoughts.  

“Yes?” 

“There are some of Evelyn’s clothes left in my wardrobe… I know I told you not to touch them, but…” he paused and then he added, “They won’t fit me and she was…smaller than you, so I doubt they fit you. Why don’t you donate them instead? They won’t do anyone any good in my closet.” 

“Are you sure?” Knowing how much he still grieved the loss of his wife, Audrey held her breath. The one time she had asked him if she should take care of his wifes’ clothes, he hadn’t dignified her with an answer and after one day of painful silence he had told her if she ever touched Evelyn’s clothes, she could pack her things and move back to “wherever the hell she had come from” - and now this. 

“As sure as I can be,” Siegfried replied emotionally and turned away. Then the door to his study closed and man and dog were gone in the refuge of the small study. 

Audrey figured she should do as told as long as he had locked himself away and went quickly upstairs. As she began to remove the dresses, skirts and blouses of the late Evelyn Farnon, she felt rather mawkish and wondered how this year’s Christmas was going to look like without Tristan Farnon. She didn’t know why the lad considered not to come home for Christmas, but she was sure that neither of the brothers would be happy about spending Christmas without the other. As a mother who had been missing out on her son for years she knew how it hurt to miss one's own flesh and blood and she didn’t want that for Mr Farnon or his little brother. Family was the most important thing in the world, wasn’t it? 

By the time Evelyn’s side of the closet was empty, Audrey had figured she needed to come up with a plan to convince Tristan to come back to Darrowby. Tonight after dinner she would write a long and heartfelt letter to the boy and tell him they all, Jess included, missed him. Maybe he would hear her and come home… 

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

post-s2. good omens mascot here, coping unhealthily.

This is the first proper post I'm writing since the audio breakdown, good thing I queued a POTC one last week, I suppose. Yes I slept through the entire day today, missed the theatre workshop I was supposed to attend and may or may not be listening to A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square on loop. Have an update on my coping because my social life and family are both Tumblr now:

Every song is about them now. A lot were before, but now every single one. Even an old Hindi song from a 1900s Indian military movie that I have not watched, by the way. But the lyrics (thank you Google translate) are: Everybody wants a handful of the sky, everybody searches for a handful of the sky, there is a world waiting to be hugged to the chest, the moon is a fair full of stars, but this heart is still lonely. And of course that makes me think of Crowley as the starmaker. Ow.

I made the very intelligent decision to rewatch the first three episodes of season 2, knowing what the Job minisode and the Edinburgh minisode do to me. I'll be here clutching Crowley, well, hugging him close to the chest, just like that song... ah, fuck, here we go again.

I listened to you all and am drinking a lot of water, since my tear ducts were emptied yesterday and now I'm unable to cry. I also ate too much chocolate.

I searched for sad Aziracrow edits and watched them. Don't look at me. I'm in a hell of my own creation.

I used too many emotions last night and now I feel hollow and achy. Maybe I should cope with humour and write the summaries.

Or maybe that will backfire and I will be filled with horrifying levels of emotion.

I slept. A lot. Many hours. Lots sleep.

So. Well. You know. Adopted child of divorce. You were all right, this is exactly like dealing with a breakup or divorce, but much more painful.

Someone please, please, please stop me from clicking the Crowley whump tag to find fanfiction.

I remember my initial Good Omens posts. I remember calling the fandom sad, desperate, queer and masochistic, and also pointing out how you all blame Neil and then sit and make headcanons that are a hundred times worse than canon.

I was so right. Look at me now, sad, desperate, queer and masochistic, making headcanons that are a hundred times worse than canon.

Wahoo.

[dreams-shape-the-world]

I love Shakespeare, and I love Hamlet, compound that with the fact that they had Aziraphale and Crowley at the Globe Theater while they were playing Hamlet put me over the moon.

What I find most amusing, is that both Michael Sheen and David Tennant have both played the part of the Danish prince.

So we have our favorite angel and demon, meeting at the Globe because of their new "arrangement" to do miracles or temptations that are just plain and simple, a pain in the ass to do, but management wants them to do anyway.

They also discuss the fact that if either one of their sides knew about the "arrangement" it would be abysmal for them. We know what eventually happens to Crowley later on in the future, when he saves Elspeth from attempting to take her life.

I think the one thing that is key with this part of their history, is how much concern Aziraphale has started to show for Crowley. Even though he denies ever knowing Crowley, he is nonetheless worried about his wellbeing. These are the early stages of their relationship, with Aziraphale voicing his distress at the possibility of Crowley being destroyed if caught by his superiors.

During their conversation, Hamlet is playing on stage, and Aziraphale loves this play. Unfortunately, it's not that popular and it concerns him very much. They then have their coin toss to see who get to do the good and bad thing in Edinburgh.

Poor Aziraphale loses that toss and get stuck having to go there. At this point, Aziphale hears Shakespeare bemoan the fact that no likes Hamlet. This is where Aziraphale gives Crowley the, what has been called, his "heart eyes" looks. I call it the, "oh please my dear, can you do this for me?" look and Crowley just can't say no to him.

It doesn't even take him a second to agree to his angel's request, so much for putting up a fight. He never has a chance, Crowley already has it bad and doesn't even know it.

I will say, that to me, Crowley fell in love first with Aziraphale. The debate is, when, at Eden or during Job minisode? We can debate that forever, but in the end, he is already in love.

I adore how happy it makes Aziraphale, when his demon capitulates to his wishes. Look at him, he is beaming with happiness, how can anyone not love him.

Crowley makes it like, yea, whatever, but you can't tell me he wasn't smiling as he walked away, knowing that he made his angel happy.

Anyway, I love this whole minisode as I said earlier. It is adorable in their interactions over one of my favorite plays. Plus, Elizabethan Crowley is just gorgeous!

[strangelittlestories]

"I hesitate to say that you've 'screwed the pooch', but only because it's an understatement."

The Gray Wolf and Reynard the Fox stood over the smoking ruins of the fairytale castle.

The Gray Wolf continued, "It may be more accurate to say that you have single-handedly assembled a 3-piece flatpack canine-themed bedroom suite."

"Alright, hear me out though-" Reynard was cut off by a secondary explosion, which took out the one remaining tower.

The fox danced out of the way, hot-footing around the flaming debris. The Gray Wolf, meanwhile, shapeshifted into a firebird to avoid the scorching mess.

"I would say you crapped the bed," continued the wolf/bird, "but in fact you have turned an entire luxury hotel into a collection of 4-poster manure heaps. The hotel owner will need to pivot to selling fertiliser and that is not the career they dreamed."

"Okay, but-"

"When you brought me in to help with this job, I trusted in the quality of your reputation as a trickster, huckster and confidence creature." The Gray Wolf transformed back into her familiar salt-and-pepper form and gave Reynard a wintry form. "Imagine my surprise that it turned out the only trick you ever pulled was convincing the world that a single braincell of yours existed."

"On the plus side, technically we did save the shepherd girl?"

"Saved her from what? A life of luxury in the palace with the Queen? All we needed to do was get her in the right place, provide a little guidance, and help her answer some riddles." A wolf should not be able to tut like a schoolteacher, but this one managed it. "Admittedly, the interference from the 'Stiltskin was unexpected, but your incompetence leads me to only one conclusion."

"Which is?" replied the fox, miserably, slinking into a sad embarrassed puddle of red fur, "That I'm a waste of ink? A story whose moral is failure? A two-bit firecracker in a ten-shilling box? Proof the oral tradition was a waste of breath if it produced me? I've heard it all before."

"No. Never put down to incompetence what should be attributed to malice." The Gray Fox pounced on Reynard and pinned him to the ground, revealing the knife of bleached boned hidden in the dirt beneath him. "My conclusion is that you're a traitor."

"Aw, dang." Reynard's eyes lit up with the flames of chaos. "I really thought I had you there. Turns out the animal helper can help herself too!"

"Who turned you? The snow queen? King Cole?"

"Oh, that's a long story." Reynard smiled a smile that had beguiled a thousand fools. "And you don't have time..."

Then the third explosion went off.

---

Enjoy my stories? Consider supporting my live show! https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/poor-life-choices-at-the-edinburgh-fringe

[anonmousegosqueak]

Boo! Did I scare you? I'm back to being alive, and not high off of pain and ickyness meds. So, here's a prompt! Roach and Gaz centric!

It's time for their bi-monthly leave (forced by Laswell), and Kyle and Roach have decided to take it together (pre-relationship). They spend it at Roach's flat, a one bedroom, fairly small place. Roach is fully prepared to grab the foldable cot from his closet and let Kyle have the bed, but Kyle brings up a good point.

"We've slept in smaller places together, bug. At least this time, it'll be in a comfortable bed, right?"

Cue the awkward "sleeping on opposite sides only to wake up cuddling" thing in the morning. They go about their day without mentioning it, and it happens every single night. Until eventually, Kyle says "fuck it" and just pulls Roach into cuddling the fifth night of their leave.

Could potentially lead to nsfw, could just be wholesome cuddle-bug Roach/Gaz. But I love the idea of the team mandated leave (Kate deals with the paperwork and makes them all rest) during the few months before their relationships started.

Johnny takes Simon up to Edinburgh, Price goes to stay with Kate and her wife (wine buddies). But I think Roach and Gaz are just so... adorable.

Like, cuddle-bug Roach and pretty boy Gaz that are awkward around each other, not really wanting to ruin their friendship (and also not wanting to acknowledge the whole "wanting to date their teammates" bit)

-🦴

AGHHHH!! AM SCARED.

Hi Boner! I'm glad you're better! I missed you! I sacrificed my first born for your health!

My first thought? Bi-monthly or BI(sexual)-monthly? ;D

No but seriously- Roach is a *cuddler*. He's small, naturally runs a bit cold, and small. He wants nothing more than to be a blanket. It's pretty normal to wake up with a little guy making sounds in your ear, comes with the job am I right?

Problem is, the homoerotic tension is tension-y.

I think the morning after (NOT LIKE THAT-) is so awkward.

"Seriously bug, it's alright." ← says Gaz despite also being horribly embarrassed because he knows he gave Roach a little kiss on the head.

Okay time for the morning after, exactly like that (aka nsfw)

I think the big "fuck it" moment is when they're already waking up. It's been a few days, lots of words left in the air, ect. Kyle is only half awake, more focused on his morning wood than the fact he's literally got Gary's thighs in-between his legs. He's not thinking about *what* he's humping, just that it feels good.

Gary, on the other hand is redder than a tomato, not 100% sure on what to do. I mean, hot guy that he has a crush on is currently asleep and rubbing on him! What is he supposed to do?

So instead he simply angles his leg just a little bit.

Poor Kyle's moan is enough for Gary's heart to stop beating for a moment or five. He swears he's never heard a more perfect sound in his whole life. And pair that with Kyle's expression? A mix of pleasure and sleep? Gary might have cum just from that (don't make fun of him, he hadn't had time for a good wank in months).

That was the day he learned he had a slight somnophilia kink :D (all consensual and such, dw.)

Kyle's own hips stutter a bit, a soft moan coming from him, and then he's back to sleeping. Literally snoring slightly. Gary is literally staring at the ceiling having an existential crisis and Kyle looks like he's having the best sleep of his life.

By the time Kyle actually wakes up, he's met with 1) a gross feeling in his boxers, 2) Gary's arm wrapped around him, and 3) a panicked bugboy staring at him.

Needless to say, they had a proper talk over breakfast.

And now they boyfriends who smooch and always cuddle~

[theawkwardterrier]

The Burden of Invisible Hearts, chapter 8

The return from Wentworth Station will exist in her memory as a bare shadow, contrasted against the stark recollections of every color and sound and smell within that cell. Claire retains flashes of thought as she and Murtagh move through the streets with Jamie: a streaking surprise that she has learned Edinburgh well enough over her months here to direct them through back ways and far from the lamps being lit and noticing eyes, a darting pain that she cannot be the one to even try to carry Jamie which she clamps down on as quickly as she would a nicked artery; that is self-indulgent when she needs only to be concerned that Jamie is carried, that someone’s gentle arms are bearing him home. Besides, she understands that her real job will come once they have arrived.

Considering her weekly bath ritual, Claire has the process of warming water on the stove and hefting it upstairs down to a science ("About the only thing the pair of ye are good for in this kitchen, the way you even mangled peeling the potatoes," Jenny's voice teases from some moment long ago), but she gives Murtagh instructions to heat the pot instead after she’s had him lay Jamie in the washtub. She wishes that she could let Jamie lie in his own bed and rest, but the thought of infection — of what might already be raging and rooting beneath his skin — is terrifying. Now that he is returned to her care, she must give him every chance to live, even if that means temporary discomfort.

She begins to remove the shirt from around him. It is torn, she notices, and not even buttoned, as if Randall had only thrown it carelessly over Jamie before going to investigate the noise outside; she remembers the chill below ground in that hell, remembers the heavy wool of Randall’s jacket, and wishes that she had struck the man harder. The shirt does not slide away as she would have expected it to, either, and when she gets her hands beneath Jamie's back and, struggling, turns him over to free it, she sees that it is stuck to his skin, dried there with blood.

"Christ," she says, the word barely coming out around the swell of fury and disgust and teary overwhelm in her throat. "Jesus bloody fucking Christ, what has that man done to you?"

"Och, I'm not certain I'm worth blaspheming over, Sassenach, but I appreciate it all the same," she imagines Jamie saying, and it is her friend Jamie in her mind, the bright and brilliant one, the steadfast one with his grin and his kindness. The man in front of her makes only a small moan, eyelashes fluttering, and then stills again.

It is not his insensibility which truly frightens her, though. The terror comes as she and Murtagh finally begin easing the fabric away from his body with as much gentleness as they can, and find that even while incoherent, and beginning to be feverish as she had feared, he cringes from their hands and whimpers even from the lightest spill of water that they need to loose the cloth from where it’s tight and stiff, adhered as if it has become one with him. Her true rage comes when the shirt is finally free from him and they can see the ruin that has been made of his back: the smaller, testing knife cuts made carefully over and over in the same places without a chance to heal, and the elaborate attempt at a monogram in the center, the J and W smaller and somewhat lopsided, the centered endeavor at an R having ripped a slash beyond flesh and into muscle. She imagines Randall stepping back to consider his work like an artist might his brush strokes, or tsking over the inability of skin to act like smooth canvas, imagines him smiling absently at Jamie as he groaned or refused to, and wants so badly to genuinely believe in hell so that she can picture Randall there, burning.

Continue reading on AO3

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

The Good Omens Article From the TotalFilm Magazine, Issue August 2023 :)

POST APOCALYPSE GOOD OMENS The heavenly and hellish creations of Gaiman and Pratchett ride again…

Having averted Armageddon, angel Aziraphale (Michael Sheen) and demon Crowley (David Tennant) have settled down to the quiet life in London – but the arrival of a familiar face shakes things up for everyone.

Season 1 covered events in the novel you wrote with Terry Pratchett – what was the inspiration this time?

Neil Gaiman (showrunner): Terry and I were sharing a room at Seattle’s World Fantasy Con in 1989 and, by the end of one night chatting, we had a huge, apocalyptic sequel to Good Omens. Season 2 is all the stuff we had to put in place before we could get to that sequel, and it starts with the archangel Gabriel [Jon Hamm] wandering through Soho, with no memory – a mystery that doesn’t have giant consequences for the universe, even if it does for Aziraphale and Crowley.

What has changed between Crowley and Aziraphale?

David Tennant (Crowley): Aziraphale is a much more enthusiastic detective in this mystery and, as with most things, Crowley is reluctant to get involved or to exhibit any kind of energy or enthusiasm, so he’s dragged into it. They no longer have to report to head offices, so they’re in this slightly grey area – neither supernatural, nor of the Earth.

Michael Sheen (Aziraphale): They’ve always been the only two beings who could understand each other’s position, but now they’re slightly freer agents so they’re pushed even closer together. It’s an interesting dynamic.

Maggie and Nina, you’re back too – although not as satanic nuns this time…

Nina Sosanya (Nina): No – we’re two human women! Nina is slightly cynical, churlish and owns a coffee shop, Maggie runs the record shop and she’s rather sweet and hopeful. It’s an ‘opposites attract’ thing and Neil kindly gave the characters our names so we couldn’t say no.

Maggie Service (Maggie): Aziraphale is still running his bookshop, but he’s also Maggie’s landlord. She thinks he’s the best because he lets her stay on and doesn’t really mind if she doesn’t make too much money. Maggie and Nina act as catalysts in a way, when Crowley and Aziraphale get involved in their relationship.

Neil, you’ve had some writing help this year…

NG: That’s right. We have three 25-minute ‘minisodes’ within episodes. You learn Aziraphale and Crowley’s part in the story of Job, written by John Finnemore. Cat Clarke takes us to 1820s Edinburgh for a tale of bodysnatching. Finally, Jeremy Dyson and Andy Nyman reunite the League of Gentlemen, because I fell in love with Season 1’s Nazi spies and kept wondering what would happen if they came back as zombies on a mission from hell to investigate whether Crowley and Aziraphale were fraternising. That story involves the Windmill Theatre, black market whisky, and a bullet catch…

[robin374]

I saw that your requests were open and I jumped into action lol

Any ideas for the Mercs and reader with an “only one bed” trope? (Love the stuff youve written btw <3)

One Bed Trope with the mercs (part 1)

I'm gonna start with Demoman because he is my husband and gets the privilege of being the first.

Demoman ❤️

He just wanted to sleep man 😭

When you two finished the assigned mission that Miss Pauling gave you two, you went to the hotel/motel (how do you call it in English?). When you entered the room the first thing you two saw was a single big bed, for two people.

You looked at Demo and he was awkwardly standing there. He couldn't believe his eye

👁️👄

"I'll sleep on the floor, don't worry Demo." "No, Y/N. I've slept in all kinds of places, I think I can handle sleeping on the floor" "And that's exactly why you are sleeping in the bed"

At the end, you two decide to sleep in the same bed. He couldn't help but feel nervous, like yeah, he has slept at the top of Edinburgh's castle. Or with some random seals at a random beach. But he's never slept with the person he's in love with.

With that said, he remembers those words his Mom told him once.

"You better get a job, Tavish!"

I could give him a good job-

I don't know why he remembered that, don't ask me.

HE'S SO WARM KSDKAODJAKL I feel like his body would be so warm, because of the amount of alcohol he consumes.

He snores a little bit. Just tiny tiny tiny tiny little bit. 🤏

Not as much as Heavy at least.

He's a heavy sleeper so good luck trying to wake him up

I feel like he would see it as an opportunity to confess his feelings. Like you two are talking while laying down in bed, and casually spits it out. By the time you realize what he said, he is already sound asleep, his back facing you.

"I'm in love with you, Y/N" "Hmm? What did you say? I didn't hear you *Scottish snoring*

Scout 🤡

HE DOES NOT HESITATE 🗣️🗣️

He knows what these situations are about and he will not let it slide so easily.

He doesn't even ask you if you are okay with sleeping with him, he just says "I'm so tired, let's sleep!" And he launches himself towards the bed.

He will pat the space next to him silently telling you to sleep too.

But then reality hits him like a rock, he is sleeping with you. He is really happy, any girl would've slapped him at tha exact moment, but you just accepted your fate.

He doesn't snore, but he does this thing that dogs do that is moving his legs as if he was running.

You better be a heavy sleeper because he talks while sleeping.

"Spy stole my chicken and now I can't eat my bullets. " "Scout are you awake?" "Fuck you Spy, I miss my chicken :("

He got so red when he woke up in the morning. You were still asleep, that's the first thing he saw after opening his eyes. He wanted to kiss you so bad.

"Good morning, toots. You've slept well?"

He's so in love with istg.

But he won't confess, he wants to keep this as a (really) good memory and confess after he's sure that you feel the same.

Scared of rejection I guess.

Engie 🤠

He's so casual about it.

He has to sleep in the same bed as his crush? Well, darn.

"It is what it is" energy.

You don't want him to sleep on the floor and he doesn't want you to sleep on the floor. Oh no, sadly we will have to sleep in the same bed :( (that's sarcasm for those confused)

"Come here, sugar, I don't bite." Unless you want me to.

He snores more than Demo sorry, it's bearable though. It's like having a horse next to you huffing and puffiing. A horse you don't mind to ride (ok I'll stop now sorry lmao)

He's like a teddy bear, he doesn't mind if you hug him. On the contrary, he will "unintentionally" pull you closer.

He would wake up in the middle of the night, because he's not used to sleeping like a normal person would do. So he will take advantage of it and admire your beautiful face. How the moonlight delicatedly lights your face, your closed eyes giving that feel of calmness... He will eventually kiss your forehead and go back to sleep.

He won't say a word about it in the morning. He will just greet you like always do in the base and get back to work.

In the inside he's screaming, dancing, running, whooping of joy. For him, it's one little step more to you being his pardner.