#soft spot for theatre actors

[endless-ineffabilities]

the only intermission (Ewan Mitchell x f!reader)

a/n: this is a direct result of my wishing that Ewan would do a play here in London so I can watch him. So, here you go <3

main masterlist ▪︎ previous part

You and Ewan share a moment during intermission.

The play's intermission is under way, with twenty minutes of reprieve for the actors and the audience. Bethany had gone to the bar to grab a drink with Harry, and somehow, to Ewan's obvious delight, he was able to corner you out in the foyer.

The two of you stand at a semi-secluded spot away from the main doors, clear of the passage into the theatre.

"So, what do you think of it so far?" Ewan leans against the wall, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, and hoping you didn't notice that he kept shuffling closer to you.

There had been a two-foot distance, which became one, after he said something along the lines of—Wait, I can't hear you, say that again?—even though you are well away from the bustle.

And now, his arm is close enough to brush against yours as you respond, "I really enjoyed it. Emma's absolutely brilliant! I mean, the whole cast is amazing, but Emma's a standout for me."

"For me as well," Ewan agrees. He's mesmerized by the way you beam in enthusiasm.

"I wanted to ask you if you've ever done a play? I think you would be really good at it!"

Ewan feels the heat rush to his cheeks. "Really? No, I haven't been in a play yet—"

"Well you should!" You touch his forearm lightly. For but a second. He wishes you hadn't let go.

"Should I?"

"I wouldn't lie to you, Ewan," you say, smiling and tilting your head. Is this flirting?

Can you do it some more?

"If you say so." He tries to match your tone. "Will you be there to watch me when I do?"

"Am I invited to press night?"

Either his own desires are fooling him, or you shuffle closer to him this time.

"You'll be front and centre, darling."

You nod in appreciation. "Well, I would be honoured. You know, if they do another rendition of Romeo and Juliet, you should go for the part of Romeo."

He laughs lightly, and before he can stop himself, he blurts out, "Only if you would be Juliet."

Your face contorts in apparent confusion. "But... I'm not an actress."

His smile drops, thinking that his attempt at flirtation flew right over your head.

"No, darling—" he stammers. "I, I just meant—"

You throw your head back, giggling to yourself. "Ohhh, you make it too easy!"

He can't help but join you, the trill of your shared laughter echoing in your little corner of the room.

"You're mean," he clicks his tongue, his voice lowering.

"Hmm. So do you still want to take me out?"

You most definitely move closer to him. He sees it clearly, and he mirrors your motion, gently brushing his fingers along the side of your face.

There is a moment of static, electrifying tension. His eyes are drawn down to your lips, which part slightly.

But it all dissipates when the usher's booming voice cuts through, announcing that the play is to resume in five minutes.

You sigh. "We should head back inside."

No. Not yet. Would Bethany be cross with him if he asks to switch seats so he can be close to you for the next hour?

He feels silly—he can't even wait until after the play.

"Hold on," he says, grabbing your hand when you start to turn away. "I do still want to take you out."

"Oh," you smile sweetly. "Great." You glance around quickly, likely checking if Bethany already went back inside. "We'll talk after the play?"

"Yes, please, darling," he exhales, giving your hand a squeeze. Why can't plays have hour-long intermissions? Maybe you wouldn't be averse to just walking out of there and having that date way sooner than expected.

There will be plenty of other nights to watch the play anyway.

"Come on," you tug at his hand, tilting your head toward the entrance. "Time to go, handsome."

You hold on to his hand, and a shiver runs down his spine, your touch sending a surge of warmth through him.

Your skin feels so soft. And you called him handsome.

As you merge back into the crowd, shuffling toward the doors, he leans in close. "You know," he whispers, "when we go on our date, there won't be any intermissions like this."

"You won't need a break from me? I can be annoying, you know," you tease, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckles softly, his gaze holding yours. "I think I can handle it, beautiful."

You blush, lowering your head. He feels pleased with himself.

He continues, "Besides, I have a feeling you'll keep me on my toes."

On his toes, on his knees, on his back—whatever position you want him in.

Oh, he's going to hell.

[yurozo]

uxoriousness/meritoriousness

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝ leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: following a recent outing to spain, leon indulges himself in the chaos of the theatre as a temporary reprieve. what he doesn't expect is to find you, a duke's daughter which captures his attention.

tags: fluff, romance, fem!reader, no use of y/n, early modern century britain, knight!leon (?), terrible flirting on leon's behalf.

a/n: it's 18th century britain leon babey! i attempted at making it as accurate as possible, but i did push flexibility in prose and conventions. i'm thinking of making this about five parts, so please let me know if you want to see more! <3 side note: uxuriousness is an 18th century term to be excessively fond of your wife, and maritiousness is a less common word to be excessively fond of your husband. ;)

part 1, part 2, next parts coming soon!

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

Leon Kennedy, from the period of his last excursion to Spain, was admitted a frequent visitor to the theatre. Not particularly for the novelty of it; in truth he had no interest in watching the actors sing about their prose, but instead for the solitary comfort the booth often provided. To lounge in a padded chair and lose oneself to the idle chatter of the audience below bestowed a barrier that subsided his reserves, his tiring thoughts of blood staining his sword and the cracking of ribs as his weapon sinks between them. 

Certainly not for another more pervasive reason. Most definitely not the Lady sitting in the booth across the orchestra, watching the play with rapt interest. 

You had become a recent obsession of his, watching every slight change in expression that you wore so freely. Distaste at every nobleman vying for your affections, wistfulness at the chaste kiss between two actors, dejection when the curtains came to a full close. A painful curiosity ignited at your countenance and he could hardly withdraw his eyes from your person until the performance had concluded. Several weeks had passed in this kind of intercourse, content with being an unacknowledged admirer and not letting himself be overcome with more powerful considerations. 

That was until he spotted another man in your booth, desperately pleading with your hand in his rigid grip, and that same revulsion in your face, which propelled him upwards. He forbore any immediate inclination to withdraw his sword and allow him the same fate he willingly gave to his enemies for even daring to grab you without permission. 

His manners were very much admired in his circle, with many honoured with such an attention as his. It is for this reason that he is sure no true gentleman should ever dare force himself upon a woman, and especially not someone with a countenance more touchingly beautiful than he had ever dared to imagine before. 

In descending the last steps of your booth, however, your foot faltered and while Leon hastened to assist you, the man’s grip could no longer sufficiently engage to confine. While you were not materially hurt in your fall, it was reason enough to refuse any gracious acknowledgement from the other man. 

“My lord,” Leon derided, standing in the gap between the two. “I believe your presence is wanted elsewhere.”

The man remonstrated, and represented the serious danger that threatened from so rash a proceeding. “My lady,” said he in a solemn voice, “Sir.”

The man quickly departed, as the waning patience of Leon could clearly not have endured the repeated attack on another persons honour. But these cogitations were but of short continuance; they vanished with the appearance of your hand, waiting for his to assist you. He does so, pulling you gently to him, and greeted you with a softness oft unfamiliar to him. 

“My lady,” Leon said, folded in a deep bow; “I am sorry, exceedingly sorry, that you may have been given uneasiness.”

He wanted so desperately to bring your hand upwards, to brush his lips against the soft unscarred skin of your knuckles. But he is noble in heart, and too afraid to break convention in a manner of all people, so he acquiesced himself to squeeze it once instead. The accomplished mind of his was more likely to succeed in silent attentions than by a formal declaration of his sentiment. 

“Any such sentiment was easily quelled,” you responded, the gentle remonstrances in his favour becoming more pleasing and more convincing. “Thank you, Sir, I felt nothing but surprise at your sudden appearance.”

“Your surprise could not be greater than mine in being noticed by you,” said he, hesitating ever so slightly in his forwardness. “My lady.”

A hint of flush coloured your mottled cheeks that retrimmed the flame building with an ardent fire. “Allow me to thank you, Sir,” you said, retracting your hand from his. “If you are not diverted, to join me.”

The present confliction of passion seemed endless; he had already formed an inkling of affection for someone so far out of his station to even consider a proper courtship, and yet the very idea of never feeling that warmth in his palm again ached fiercely. Perhaps it was simply due to the long stretches of time in which he received none at all, but the crime of engaging in a past attachment was severer and more painful than he had imagined. Your hand was gentle in a manner that he is not, uncalloused where his are weathered from a swords grip.

“I shall,” he replied, allowing for you to seat yourself first before he followed, a timid eagerness in his step. 

Leon seized the opportunity thus offered, attempting to converse with you, while he was yet considering what he could say, that might interest and withdraw you from this severe reserve. From the style of your dress, he imagined that you were a person of honourable, yet modest personality, who exhibited an air of comfort in the midst of his usual experience of strict upper-class nobility. 

It was something about you, he decided, that circumstance had punished him gravely with your presence. He could not remember a true life without it, for all manner of previous happiness seemed finite in comparison. In fine, you were both infinitely charmed with each other, although you lacked the nerve to voice such affections. 

“Are you engaged, my Lady?” he said, in a tone much too hurried for the quiet air of the booth. His brow pinched at the suddenness of the intrusion, at the lack of care in his tone that may have painted him impatient, or at worst, rapacious. 

“I fear not,” you laughed, and what a wondrous sound it is. Had you been able to encounter his eyes, you may have seen how well the expression of heartfelt delight lightened them. Feeling all the more common awkwardness and anxiety of the situation, now forced yourself to speak. “Are your affections taken by another?”

“No, my Lady,” said he, “present company excluded.”

You coloured and laughed at his reply, and any guilt of his previous misstep is comforted by the brightness of your gaze, cast upon him of all people. Should the divine have asked him now to give all of him to you, he would have gladly obliged in that very moment, forfeiting all mortal possession and any semblance of self in your honour. 

“Are you enjoying the play thus far?” you started, still flushed of the affectionate gallantry that he bestows upon you.

“I do not recollect that I am.”

“You do not enjoy romance?” 

“I certainly have not the passion which some people possess,” said Leon, “but I am not steadfast in my conviction.”

You turned to him then, proceeding all the particulars of the romantic genre, and would shortly have recited some very plentiful dictation had Leon not interrupted you once more. 

“I have never met anyone of such true enjoyment,” he observed, cutting your speech not out of malice, but of something else entirely. Curiosity, or even sensibility, for he had received all your intelligence with the forbearance of civility. 

“Exceedingly so,” you answered, “but I honour your sentiment.”

“My sentiment has changed,” he admitted so fondly, that he feared every fault of his would come to light, “in the presence of such knowledgable company.”

When Leon looked upon you again, surreptitiously enough that you do not notice the length of which he watches you, you watch the two actors embrace each other with welled eyes. Even if Leon never considered himself a poet, surely he could manage a soliloquy that encapsulated the joy in basking at your presence much better than any writer. What fascinating sensibility that you wielded so easily, the same way he holds his weapon, freely and without uncertainty. 

The curtains drew shut only moments later, uproarious cheering filling the theatre chambers so any further conversation is halted in its vibrance. You clapped politely beside him, assuming an air of graceful satisfaction, and he clapped in turn, if only to momentarily revel in this moment. Never had he felt so beguiled by a story, attention so pulled by the audience as he did now, supposing that memorizing every detail would supply further dialogue to engage your consideration. 

While the audience continued their remarks on the performance, mixed with them many instructions of execution and taste, Leon stands from his seat. Despite the initial surety of his action, a hint of trepidation in his expression gave way to his inability to end a happiness so supreme as to efface all impressions of the past. 

“It has been a very agreeable day,” you said to Leon, allowing your hand to be lightly grasped in his. “Never has a play entranced me so. I hope we may often meet again.”

“As do I,” said he, and gave you a final bow, just so you could not see the torment in his expression. Would you let me permit you home, is what he did not say. 

“Goodbye, Sir-” 

“Leon, my Lady.”

“Goodbye, Sir Leon.” The traces of an unbidden smile once again rises, for now you had a means in which to contact him further, to call upon him the next time you waited his presence.

“I am your humble servant,” said he, trembling with anxiety and sinking with despondency, remained for a moment to gaze upon you, unable to take leave yet irresolute what to say that might prolong the moment occurring. 

They took leave of each other; you back to the obligations of the family which expects your maintenance, and he to the tavern to drown the remembrance of his disappointment.

[blossompencil]

Oooooo! Could you do one about a ghost haunting a Theatre that falls in love with/comforts a young actress that's upset because the director threw her under the bus cause she's a newbie actress and the show isn't doing well. Director blames her.

Thank you!!!!

Imagine this..

The ghost haunting the theater has seen actors, actresses, crews, and all sorts of parties come and go. There is almost nothing they hadn't seen.

Costume disasters? A dime a dozen. Someone didn't practice their lines before opening night? Annoyingly common.

A new actor trying their best to make it big? Unfortunately, the ghost has seen it all before. But they can't help but feel a soft spot in their soul for an underdog.

Of course, the expected happens. You, being the newest, get the blame for everything going wrong. Even on days you weren't there for a reason.

And this ghost loathes directors like this..

So what else can they do.. except do everything in their power to ruin the show foe every part that didn't involve you..

Your parts went perfectly! Everyone else was left to its fury.

Eventually, you were asked to join a different theater. This one was more accepting and had bigger roles and shows to offer.

Normally, the ghost couldn't follow the newbies out into the world.. but they felt so drawn to you that they just had to follow to see where your story took you.

[pynkhues]

Anything particularly interesting said during the q&a?

Lots actually! It was a really good Q&A.

Michael (creator) talked quite a bit about the original premise for the show being about a lavender marriage between a nurse (Helen) and a reporter (Dale), and while their characterisations haven't changed tremendously, the show itself has, and putting Helen in the newsroom changed a lot of things.

He pitched the show to Jo Werner about 8 years ago, and Emma Freeman was immediately on board as director, so they really got to grow the show together as the creative team has been consistent since then. It means they're all really proud of it.

One of the major changes they made during development was about brining in the actual archive news footage and structuring it around those events, which was a big shift and a huge ask of their writers, but it's paid off.

Bringing in the cast though added another layer to creative collaboration, and especially in s3, all the cast, especially Anna and Sam got to do quite a bit of improvising.

Michelle Lim Davidson, who plays Noelene (and is s t u n n i n g in person, omg) was also brought into the writers room each season to help really root Noelene in her Korean-Australian heritage, and she said s3 feels like a culmination of that and will be an important part of the season. She got very emotional about it and said really beautiful things about what Noelene has meant to her and the pride she has in representing Korean-Australian women, and Asian-Australian women on TV. Also! Michael kept hyping her up as a playwright, and I googled when I got home and her writing debut is on at Griffin Theatre in June, so Sydney folks should get on that!

It seems to be a Noelene-and-Rob-figuring-stuff-out heavy season, and I am delighted by that, because I have a huge soft spot for them.

The scene where Noelene gives birth has made Jo cry every time she's seen it (which Michael estimates is about 40 times haha) and they're all really proud of it as a scene.

Stephen Peacocke had a very hilarious tangent here about Rob's arc, and talked a bit about Australian football and the VFL and stepping into that as a Sydney actor, but also enjoying playing a character who just stays out of the fray (and this season being about realising that he loves that his wife is in it and wants to support her).

Also a Helen-tackling-her-mental-health heavy season, and Anna and Michael literally went to therapy together with her in character to figure out how to start writing Helen in therapy (amazing).

There's a big confrontational scene between Helen and Dale late in the season that involves this, and the way they shot it meant Michael and Emma had to hide in a pantry together lmao. It also meant Anna and Sam got to do quite a bit of improv because none of them could see each other.

Sam said that when he started, both Michael and Emma told him the show doesn't work if Helen and Dale aren't in love with each other, even if it's a type of being in love that we're not used to, and that's basically the emotional root of their relationship and the show.

Michael reiterated a couple of times that the show is a tragedy (RIP us), which particularly came up with a question about Gerry. Emma had to convince Michael of the last shot of Gerry, but now he really loves it, because he wants to tear Dale down for betraying him, but sees him and realises Dale's a broken man.

They were asked a bit about what news stories they'd adapt if it was set in modern times, and the general consensus was that there were too many (Sam said he's not really a 'news' guy lmao), but Michael said COVID and Trump, and Sam said Dale would probably end up on Fox News which was the no. 1 most heartbreaking thing he could say, haha.

They were asked if they could play any other role on the show, who would they pick, and Stephen picked Dennis, and both Michelle and Sam picked Lindsay, which is hilarious.

(Emma interjected there with the fact that Lindsay is the character they get the most feedback on, mostly in the sense of omg, I've worked for a guy exactly like that).

Then they were asked if they took anything from set - Emma had taken Dale and Helen's business cards, and Sam didn't even realise they had business cards and seemed lowkey jealous about not getting them, haha, Stephen had a pair of trackies (sweat pants, for Americans), Michelle had nothing because Noelene loves knick-knacks and Michelle hates them, and Sam apparently has stolen or been gifted half the set - he was gifted Dale's 80s TV for his birthday, and he's kept Dale's computer, among other technology, apparently, haha, his wig, and a pair of high waisted blue jeans that were custom-made for him by the costume designer and feature in the finale, which I am now very much looking forward to seeing, haha.

That's all I can remember right now, I'm sure more will come to me in the morning!

[sandersstudies]

As a theatre actor, what kind of plays do you often do? Shakespeare? Victorian plays? Modern plays? Musicals, even?

A little bit of everything but since I’m employed by a youth and family theatre it’s often family-friendly musicals.

But I have a soft spot for Shakespeare and historical pieces when I can do them.

[cheri-cheri]

One-Shot: A Midsummer Night’s Reality

Genre: Fluff, Slice-of-life

Characters: You/Caleb

Synopsis: A tender moment with Caleb about the kind of love that makes even the most ordinary nights feel timeless.

The sun hangs low in the sky, dripping honey-gold light across the park as you and Caleb arrive at the outdoor theatre. The air is thick with the slow, lazy warmth of a summer evening. Rows of picnic blankets sprawl across the gently sloping lawn like patchwork quilts, each one occupied by couples, families, and theatre-lovers.

At the front of it all stands the stage, a raised platform decorated with twinkling fairy lights. Paper lanterns sway from tree branches, bobbing like sleepy fireflies in the breeze.

An unmistakable scent of sizzling hotdogs mingles with the buttery sweetness of fresh popcorn while you and Caleb search for a spot with a decent view of the stage.

After unrolling the apple-patterned picnic mat, the both of you kick off your shoes and set down the pizza boxes.

You kneel down, rummaging through your canvas tote, the rustle of fabric muffled by the surrounding hum of voices. With a small, satisfied grunt, you pull out two foldable backrests and click them open one by one with practiced ease, placing them neatly on the mat.

As you ease into your backrest, the fabric creaking softly beneath your weight, you notice Caleb stilling beside you. When you glance to the right, the sight nearly makes you laugh. His eyebrows are arched in disbelief, one hand splayed dramatically across his chest, lips parted as if someone had just betrayed him.

“You could’ve just cuddled in my arms, you know…” he said, voice tinged with mock hurt. "I've been told that my chest makes an excellent pillow."

You huff at his theatrics, brushing a strand of hair from his damp forehead. “Not when it’s summer. If I’m in your arms, I’d turn into a human-shaped puddle by the intermission.”

With an exaggerated sigh of defeat, he collapses onto the backrest beside yours, his head falling back with a groan. Still, a smile pulls at his lips.

“Another time then,” he shrugs, nudging your foot playfully with his.

As the opening notes of lute music drift from the stage, you hand him a slice of pizza from the warm, slightly greasy box in front of you.

You both eat quietly as the first scene unfolds, savouring each bite as though it would prolong the flavour and this moment.

A plastic cup of lemon juice rests on the mat, beads of condensation gathering on the outside. You take turns sipping from it, the tangy zing a welcome contrast to the heavy summer air.

Caleb reaches for your right hand without a word. His fingers find and interlace with yours like they’ve done a thousand times before. The pad of his thumb traces slow, steady circles along the back of your hand in rhythmic, absentminded strokes.

His gaze remains fixed on the stage, purple eyes reflecting the soft glow of the lights, as if he’s unaware of what he's doing. As if this small, wordless gesture is as natural to him as breathing.

The world seems to narrow to the warmth of your intertwined hands, cocooned by the rustling of leaves and the dialogue drifting from the stage.

Caleb tries, he really tries, to follow the performance. His eyes track the actors as they leap across the stage, his brow furrowed in concentration as his mind attempts to translate Elizabethan English into something comprehensible.

As the monologues stretch on, dripping with metaphors that twist and coil just out of reach, his focus begins to waver and his eyelids grow heavy.

Gradually, his head tips sideways until it finds the landing spot of your right shoulder, warm and surprisingly heavy. His breath brushes your skin in soft, even puffs. A chuckle threatens to bubble from your chest, but you bite it back and will yourself to keep still.

You know that literature isn't his thing, much less deciphering the puzzling language of Shakespearean prose. He's here simply because you're here. And that, more than any sonnet or verse, feels like its own kind of poetry.

You tilt your head carefully, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of his head before nuzzling your cheek gently against his fluffy hair. Your fingers remain intertwined, his left palm snug against yours like two perfect puzzle pieces.

Around you, the night deepens. The actors' voices rise and fall like waves, their words rolling through the audience perhaps half-understood but wholly felt. The sky above turns the colour of ink spilt on silk. Endless, vast, and speckled with stars.

And in that moment, with Caleb’s head on your shoulder, your hands laced together, and the soft magic of summer surrounding you, you close your eyes.

Surely, as the both of you nestle together beneath the tapestry of countless stars, one of them will catch the whisper of your simple wish and breathe it into existence...

That this moment could last forever.

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed this little dose of Vitamin C(aleb) after all the angst (´꒳`)♡

❀ Masterlist

[rhea-is-bored-again]

UGH WHY have I not found your blog before 👹👹👹👊👊 you can probably guess who I am bc of the spam likes on your posts but yk.. I LITERALLY LOVE YOU WTF WHY ARE THESE SO CUTE

Would you mind if I request a Darry x singer reader <33 just a lil dabble in something with a theatrey S/O with him and his brothers coming to watch one of her shows would be fun. Tysm, no pressure at all<3 have a lovely day

YES OFC and tysm you're literally so sweet. lmao i love the spam likes tho it makes me so happy 😀

anyways here you go!

front lines

as darry watched the actors prance around on stage, his eyes were on you the whole time.

you'd gotten a pretty big part in the community play and been practicing at darry's place like crazy.

he knew your sung lines were coming up, and he felt his heart skip and his stomach flip as he heard your heavenly voice ring out suddenly, making the crowd erupt in cheers as everyone else went quiet onstage to hear you bless them with song.

sodapop was bouncing excitedly in his seat on darry's left, shaking his arm and whispering "glory look at y/n!"

ponyboy on his right just stared at the stage in awe, smiling. it was like a movie to him, just more real.

as the song ended and the theatre erupted in applause again, darry couldn't help but catch you eye, to which you gave him a soft wink.

the next few minutes were speaking lines, and darry couldnt help but admire at how into it you were. you were so in character, so...in your element.

it made him happy to see you do your little thing.

once the show ended, there was a roar of applause and cheers as the actors came out to hold hands and bow.

he spotted you smiling and he mirrored it, feeling a happy feeling in his chest as his brothers on either side of him bounced around and clapped.

after the actors had been released, darry stuck around by the back of the theatre, a small bouquet of flowers in his hand.

he found you smiling and sweaty: stage makeup running down the side of your neck, mic tape on your cheek (because it only sticks when the mic is gone 😔) , and strands of hair falling out of your hairstyle. yet he thought you'd never looked more beautiful.

"you came!" you say, as if he wouldnt have. he smiled and handed you the flowers pressing a kiss to your lips.

"did great out there, sweetie." was all his dignity allowed him to say, when he really wanted to fangirl over you like his brothers were doing right now.

you giggled as soda fawned over you and ponyboy gave you a hug.

"cmon, what do yall think about dinner out?"

you all immediately agreed, especially since it was rare that yall ate out.

darry snuck you another shy smile, to which you returned with another kiss as the brothers went ahead to get seated in the car.

"like the show?"

"loved it." 'cause my baby was in it.

a/n: reblog if ur a theatre kid!! (i was once veronica in heathers and janice in mean girls. comment yalls roles!!)

[ktkellart]

Good Omens London Trip 🐍💞🪽

It's my Birthday today and I treated myself to a trip to London last weekend to see my favourite actor Michael Sheen in Nye at the National Theatre. I made the most of my weekend by combining it with a Good Omens filming location self-tour and I'd love to share it with you all. So, are you ready for the tour?

Here we go!

Starting off with Soho, and the inspiration for Whickber Street, where Aziraphale's bookshop, Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death, The Small Back Room, and the Dirty Donkey are located.

It’s Berwick Street and a record shop that is very similar in shape to A.Z Fell & Co. Bonus points for spotting Duck Lane!

Next is Berkeley Square, a short walk from Soho. The first two photos are of the real Berkeley Square gardens in Mayfair, and the last two photos were taken in the filming location of Tavistock Square across the other side of central London near Kings Cross. I’m sitting on their ‘body swap’ bench in the last photo!

As you can see, the benches are turned around facing inwards now but are the other way, facing outwards in Good Omens.

Oh, and I can confirm that there were no nightingales singing in either location 😭

Heading up the road a few minutes from Tavistock Square to The Enterprise pub where I met a fellow fan who kindly took photos of me posing (I bet the staff thought we were off our rockers!). This is where Crowley drowns his sorrows in Talisker Whisky whilst waiting for the world to end after thinking he'd lost Aziraphale. Omg that poor poor demon, he was really just gonna die along with the world.

Also, one of my favourite moments of season 1 is Crolwey's line: "I heard that. It was the wiggle-on..." then shrugs. 😆 So many emotions in such short a time.

Onto the Ritz. The first two photos are of the real Ritz (a stone's throw from Berkeley Square) and the last one is inside Masala Zone in Piccadilly Circus where the ‘Quite extraordinary amounts of alcohol’ and ‘To the World’ scenes were filmed.

I ate in here alone to get the photo and was so lucky with the table I was given! Perfect discreet snap whilst eating my curry! Haha!

Next up is Battersea Park and the Bandstand. It was a bit of a faff to get there, it's an 8-minute walk from the Battersea Power Station underground and we walked the full length of the park to find the Bandstand, but it was so worth it.

Also filmed here was Gabriel and Aziraphale’s run/jog. Poor Angel is soft scene.

The trees were a little leafier with it being mid-May and the park was very busy because the weather was glorious. They also have a beautiful lake here with herons!

The Heaven & Hell staircase escalators are right over the east side of London in Broadgate Tower, Bishopsgate. I got the overground to Liverpool Street station to get there. It is in a private business building so I politely/awkwardly asked the receptionist if I could take a photo and had to explain about the scene from Good Omens… eek! But he kindly let me snap a photo anyway! (Phew)

The Windmill Theatre was three minutes away from my hotel in Piccadilly Circus, so I wandered up the road to take a photo of where Aziraphale ‘performed on the West End stage’ as Fell the Marvelous. And wasn’t he just?

The scenes weren't filmed here but it was fun to find it anyway.

St James’s Park is up next! I sat on their bench and got my friend to take photos of me posing and had fun editing the first photo. Haha! We enjoyed walking through the park, watching the ducks on the lake and had a nosey at Buckingham Palace while we were there.

The Duke of York Statue steps are at the other end of St James's Park and were fun to walk up. I smiled to myself as I thought of the scene where Crowley says ‘Well let's have lunch? Hmm,’ and Aziraphale turns around, as it was the first time I realised that these two were more than just friends.

Heaven’s top floor, the Sky Garden in Fenchurch Street near Monument is a very tall building with a botanical garden on the top floor. You can visit the sky garden for free, but you do need to book in advance so it’s best to plan ahead for this one. The views of London are breathtaking from the 35th floor and the tropical plants are fun.

My last stop for this visit was Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre. I booked a tour on the morning I was due to go home. The first tour is 10 am and lasts an hour, so I dashed off as soon as the tour guide was uttering his last words about the gift shop, across London back to Kings Cross to pick up my suitcase from luggage storage and get the 11:48 am train home!

One I missed and could have easily gone to is St Margaret Street where Newton and Shadwell meet, and Shadwell fleeces Newton for a cup of tea with nine sugars and pockets the change. A bit gutted I missed it to be honest – I love Jack Whitehall (I’m back in London with the family in June so I’ll swing by and update then!)

There are also some other locations a little further afield that I might try to visit on a later date, such as Shadwell's and Madam Tracy's flat down Hornsey Road in Islington, Crowley's Flat exterior in Eastfields Avenue, Best Cafe on Garratt Lane where Crowley meets Shadwell, Crystal Palace Dinosaur Park where the ineffable husbands watch Warlock defacing a dinosaur sign and Antonella's Cafe and Bistro where Crowley and Aziraphale are thinking of ideas to track down the antichrist whist Aziraphale eats cake.

Okay, I’m gonna finish up with the man himself. The very kind, very charming, and VERY patient Michael Sheen The reason for my London visit in the first place. Nye was spectacular OBviOUsLy, but he was super generous with his time at stage door for us all. I got a hug and asked him to pass it on to Aziraphale (that angel really needs a hug) and it made him laugh, which made my night!

Check out my reblog for extra locations when I visited London again a month later, and for a hilarious bonus photo of.... Gabriel??!

Here’s the wonderful map I used -

from this website:

[northrnfool]

The way this series framed Loki and Mobius’ relationship around these three time theatre scenes was so brilliant, imo.

I read a post a while back from someone who knows way more about filmmaking than I do that there’s a tendency to sort of repeat scenes using the same setting/characters/placement as a way to highlight something that has changed. In this case we get Loki and Mobius in the time theatre in their exact same spots at this table three separate times and yet each time their dynamic is veeeery different.

The first time they meet here it’s like two worlds colliding. Neither really knows what they’re getting into with the other so there’s a guardedness to both of them. Loki is like a cornered animal and Mobius is fully masked in his pleasant unaffected demeanour. Tom Hiddleston mentioned several times in interviews that Mobius is able to look at Loki’s life from an outsiders perspective, specifically that he’s not personally emotionally affected by Loki’s actions.

A few episodes later and that’s no longer the case. Now we get to see Mobius, who has been very good at guarding his emotions, let them get the better of him. These guys are both feeling hurt and betrayed because they both formed an attachment to the other, but at this point neither understands that so they don’t appreciate it. Instead of opening up to one another they’re both defensive and abrasive to one another.

The third visit to this time theatre shows how much their relationship has changed. No more guardedness, no more defensiveness, we now only see softness and openness between them. Hell, look at the framing: the camera focuses directly on their faces with both actors playing this scene so vulnerable. We talk a lot about how isolated Loki has been because of his pain but the reality is, Mobius has been just as isolated; it’s incredibly meaningful knowing that this is Mobius from early in the show and all it took was for Loki to reach out to him, to gently ask for help and Mobius opened up like a flower. These two needed the connection they have with each-other so desperately, they just needed a multiversal level apocalypse to figure their shit out.

[no-name-blu]

Hello blu! Can you tell us a more about your other AU? Theater

I'm surprised you even heard of the AU. I keep trying to draw and make content for it just for the AU to get overshadowed by a different interest so many times

Anyways

BROKEN THEATRE AU

This is the only refs I made for the characters:

Inspired by The Show That Goes Wrong this AU is about a theatre company with big dreams but terrible outputs. Just for AU reasons, they are all terrible people. Like genuinely, they are all egotistical and even fight each other a lot (it's normal) but in the end, they all love each other and have a close bond to this group they have formed found family core

Unfortunately, I wasn't a theatre kid so my knowledge for this AU isn't going to be accurate.

But I had @rae-ven13 to help me out with it and I made her co-writer for this forgotten AU

More explanation of the AU down here

the theatre group, the characters, and more doodles I made! :D

Welcome Home Organisation of Real Entertainment

This is the name of their little theatre group, only consists of 8 members, with Home (Wally's rich father) to support the organization.

It started out with Sally and Barnaby having a double act show together in college, with the help of Frank and Poppy backstage too.

Then when they graduated Sally found Wally and manipulated befriended him to convince his dad for a show. Which he agreed, only as long as he gets to join the group too.

And that's how they got the organization to this day

Bonus: Barnaby came up with the name for their theatre group, and Sally learned not to give him that trust ever again.

MEET THE CREW

Sally Starlet

Role: The Director, The Writer, Actress

She started the whole group and made herself the leader.

Sally believes she is surrounded by amateurs, her actors are immature and full of problems. But no reason, she is a great director despite the anger and outburst caused by these people. Of course, she believes he is the best out of all of them and would've have a great show if she had gotten a little more respect. But in the end, without her, this group would be lost and confused.

Barnaby B. Beagle

Role: Actor, Writer

He is a self proclaimed co-leader to Sally despite the arguments they always have. Barnaby is actually the most egotistical in the group. One of the reasons he considers Wally as his best friend is because they can both be shitty people together. He's a little mean to the others and has a hierarchy built in his head. But the gang still loves him, no one slanders him for his actions and it made Barnaby have a soft spot for them too. He doesn't mean to be such a jerk, he genuinely cares.

Poppy Partridge

Role: Actress, Tech

She started out helping tech work with Frank since she's too scared to act. But there was an accident that got Sally knocked out temporarily and she had to replace her. She was scared, but as the show goes on she actually enjoyed acting, even though she had to wrestle with Sally for the role throughout the show. But after that chaos, Sally has never been more excited to finally give Poppy acting roles on stage.

Frank Frankly:

Role: Head Tech, Stage Manager

Sally tricked him to join by saying their shows will give extra credit. He still sticks around anyway and became Sally's most reliable and sane member of the group. Although he is overworked and stressed out mostly due to the whole stage keep crumbling over. His temper was just as bad as Sally's and they can be seen arguing a lot (If it's not Sally and Barnaby, then it's Sally and Frank) But, he's proud to be the most reliable member of the group and also the voice of reason.

Wally Darling

Role: Actor, Prop Design

He knew from the beginning that Sally was manipulating him and he still lets her have her show, only if she lets him join. Wally just wants to be a lil shit and play pranks, sometimes with Barnaby too. He's not good at acting and people would see him as a spoiled brat because his adoptive dad owns the theatre 💅✨✨✨ But he grew to love this group he's in and would always ask Home to keep supporting it.

Eddie Dear

Role: Actor, Tech, and Prop Design

He is supposed to be only tech, but Sally needed more actors and forced him into it. The problem is that Eddie keeps forgetting his lines and cues. It would lead to the entire plot being derailed. He even spoiled the plot twist by doing his cue way too early. It's frustrating that it happens, but to his surprise no one yelled at him for forgetting, he didn't get fired for it too.

Howdy Pillar

Role: Actor, Tech

He is the best out of everyone here. It's not an opinion, Howdy is an amazing actor and singer, he's very helpful in backstage works, but he's always overshadowed by others that people barely notices his talents. The only person that actually noticed him is Wally but Howdy doesn't have a nice impression towards him for being spoiled. Other than that he stayed humble and everyone still considers him an important member of the group.

Julie Joyful

Role: Actress

The newest member of the group! She used to be famous with her sisters until Julie lost her status and got cancelled online (idk what she did yet). Sally took this as her chance to invite Julie to the group so that they can probably gain some fame for it. She started out as a high status mean girl, she's cold and cruel, takes acting in this terrible show way too seriously. Sally considers her to be her best actress. But then also, Julie slowly takes the mask off the longer she stays with them and she's just as zany as the others, the most unhinged out of all of them to be honest.

So idk if I'm going to do any more content with this AU, if people are interested I might draw more. Glad these see the light of day, they've been sitting in my google docs for months.

ANYWAYS Here's a few more doodles

Text: The set is created upside down & Sally's character is on her death bed

(It's also a redraw of a scene in the show that goes wrong)

old art ew

[lauriegraham01]

violent delights & violent ends

pairings: crowley x angel!reader, gn!reader (aziracrow x reader if you squint)

summary: having stood through the testaments of time, as Heaven and Hell's forces and anger grow closer every day, you and Crowley must both make a choice but what fateful consequences lie in store for star-crossed lovers

cw: hurt/comfort, lotta hurt tho, angst,

wc: 4.5k

a/n: UPDATED ON 9/23!!!! inspo came from a dream, romeo + juliet, and 'romeo' by until the ribbon breaks. working on a masterlist currently and hope to get it up soon. tysm for your support and enjoy :)

The party was in full swing and you found yourself getting lost within the noise of William Shakespeare's famous parties. You were currently backstage in one of the parlors where you, Crowley, and Aziraphale had joined Shakespeare and his fellow actors and other socialites in celebrating another successful opening night.

"I mean it, William. You are just absolutely brilliant, I mean you're ability to capture human emotion and spirit, well it's just marvelous!" Aziraphale had spent the better half of the night praising the poet as he truly felt starstruck by his talent.

"Yea, yea the blokes alright. You should've seen him when he was just starting out, now the bastard his own theatre." Crowley sneered as they took another sip of the mead they carried in their hand.

"He's more than alright, you can admit that. He's quite the poet." You look at them with an amused smirk as though daring them to disagree.

" 'O, speak again, bright angel! For thou art as glorious to this night', trust me love, I would not be here had you and Aziraphale put up such a fight," the demon recites almost mockingly.

"Now look who's the poet?"

"Enjoying ourselves are we dear?" Aziraphale shakes you from your thoughts as he appears before you and Crowley sort of breathless.

"Seems like you are, Angel," Crowley quips back.

"Oh just marvelous really. The talent that the Almighty has given some of these actors is just beyond words! I've even been invited to the opera to see one actor perform! Oh, I do believe I see "Mercutio" across the room. Excuse me- Mercutio!"

As Aziraphale makes his way back into the crowd of stifled bodies, you turn your head back to peer at Crowley as they take a seat onto a plush red velvet couch. Sinking into the couch, they spreads their legs open wide, almost invitingly.

"The opera? I like the sound of that." Eyebrows raising, creasing their forehead as they peer at you through dark glasses. With a free hand they tap their thigh, inviting you in. You happily take it as you make yourself comfortable upon it, head falling upon their shoulder.

"You know what I like the sound of? Silence. I do believe that I am beginning to overstay my welcome," you sigh tiredly as you study the side of their face. Finding your eyes tracing the tattooed snake just beside their ear.

"Oh come on, what are you talking about? The fun's just barely begun. Plus I've heard rumors of what really goes on in Will's study, if you know what I mean," their hold on you becomes tighter as they wiggles their eyebrows suggestively.

"Crowley, c'mon be serious," you protested.

"I am! You're gonna tell me that doesn't peak even the tiniest bit of your interest?"

"What? No. Crowley, I mean it. I'm heading back home, need to step away for the night."

The demon fully turns their face to look at you for a second and as they look into your tired eyes, they let out a sigh, defeated that only you could make them change their mind and make them bend in ways they never though possible. Defeated that you were their soft spot.

"Alright, let's go love," they sigh as they pull the both of you onto your feet. Taking a hold of your hand, they guide you through the crowd as the two of you make your way outside of the theatre and back onto the streets of London. You knew Aziraphale would be fine on his own, as he had no intention of his ending his night anytime soon, thoroughly enjoying himself in the presence of talented artists. Crowley maintained an arm wrapped around your shoulder as the two of you walked on cobblestone until the bookshop finally came into view.

"Home sweet home," Crowley announces as the two of you make your way inside the dimly lit bookshop. Taking your coat off, you blow out the remaining candles that had been lit prior to your departure and made your way upstairs to your bedroom. You heard Crowley trailing not too far behind, and as you make your way into your bedroom you look behind to see them leaning against the doorframe.

"You can come in Crowley, you know that." You softly smile as you find their sheepish behavior rather odd.

"Nah i'm good, I was thinkin' of taking off. Just wanted to make sure you were alright s'all."

Having known Crowley since the dawn of creation, you knew when they were deceiving you.

"Crowley?"

"Hmm?"

"Come inside, dear."

"Well alright, I mean if you insist," the demon blows a puff of air before making their way inside, shutting the door behind them.

They made themself comfortable as you got dressed for bed. You felt Crowley's eyes burning on you with your every move, and the fact alone made heat creep its way up your face. Turning to face them again, you saw them burrowed beneath the multiple blankets that draped your bed. Making your way beneath them, you slide in beside Crowley but still left enough roof to distance the two of you.

"Any particular reason you're so far?" The demon quips as their yellow eyes quizzingly look into yours.

"Didn't know if you wanted me to be that close."

"You know me better than anyone, y/n. You know the distance never made a difference to me, love." With that they pull you closer until you're engulfed in their body heat as you remained pressed against their side.

It wasn't unusual for you and the demon to be close like this, in fact in ways it was one of the reasons your bond with each other was so strong. Crowley, for better or for worse, craved physical touch. Having been deprived of it in their time in Hell, the only time they ever felt the touch of another is when pain and violence would be awaiting on the other side of it. With you it was different, it was their way of demonstrating emotions where words failed him. Most days it would be small things like a hand placed on the small of your back, or their hand laying gently on your knee whenever you sat near, but tonight it was different. By the way they had been handsy all night and with the distant look in their eyes as they stared up at the ceiling, you knew something was up.

"Crowley?"

"Hmm," they hum back in acknowledgement, eyes still fixed on the ceiling.

"What's on your mind?"

Crowley remains still for a minute, holding in a breath of ancient dread as they pondered over how to encapsulate the overwhelmingly conflicting emotions they were feelings, emotions they've felt since the Fall.

"S'nothing, you just get some sleep," they mutter, hoping to whisk away your concern as a way of sparing them from having to confront their emotions.

"Crowley..."

"Y/n?"

"I know when you're lying to me. I can sense that your mind is elsewhere, talk to me."

You pull back from where you laid and propped yourself up on your elbow, in order to fully look at him. Raising your other hand you softly run it through their locks before hooking a hand underneath their chin, turning their face to look at you.

"I'm here," you whisper.

Crowley's eyes search yours and they're met with nothing but adoration. The twinkle of the very stars they've created were nothing but a pale comparison to the light of hope that glimmered in your eyes. The light that no matter how hard they tried to run from, they always found themself running home to.

"It's the torment."

"From?"

"From the fall. Seems silly to dwell on something so ancient, but those demons, that torture..." their voice wavers as dread aches through their spine, "i guess it never really goes away."

Words die on your lips as your heartaches for the pain Crowley's been through. They never talked about what torture awaited for them in Hell after the Fall, but as an angel you could only imagine the suffering that was Crowley's fate.

You hadn't realized how silent you had been until Crowley shifts to sit upright. Mirroring their actions you move to face them and you see the way they try to hide from you as Crowley buries their face within their hands.

"Crowley, I understand I won't ever know what you feel, but one thing I do know is that you don't deserve to live in that pain. Something so vast as the darkness of the universe before you illuminated it with your creation." You gently wrap your hands around their wrists and pull them away to reveal Crowley's eyes reddened from silent tears.

"Let me walk with you, in that darkness."

"You could get lost in it," they shake their head, sniffling as they feel vulnerable by the transparency of their emotions.

"Then let me be lost in it, as long as I'm lost with you." You brush their hair back before your hands softly caress the side of their face.

"It would be your sin, I would be your sin." Crowley's hands creep their way up to your side as they hold onto you tightly, afraid you would realize the wickedness that lies within them and leave in disgust. The space between you and Crowley had shrunk as your foreheads pressed together. Your eyes never left theirs as the pain behind their serpent eyes sought refuge in you. You could feel their warm breath fanning over your lips, and for just a second you dare to move your gaze to look at his lips. Lips that looked so soft and tempting to draw you in. You didn't miss the way Crowley had also flickered to look at yours as well, so when your eyes meet again you felt a certain clarity wave afront as the feelings for the demon you held in your hands could no longer be buried.

"If sin be from thy lips then thus with a kiss I die."

Your words fall as a whispered prayer onto Crowley's ear as you close the spaces between and capture their lips into a soft kiss. After overcoming initial shock, Crowley's lips moved with yours in something so sweet as a sacrament. Yet that sweetness quickly turned into hunger as they kissed back fiercely, hungry for more and you were willing to be devoured whole. The burning within your lungs became too strong and you pulled away. Resting your forehead against Crowley's, as you both caught your breath you look into their eyes and see the mischievous light that you had sorely missed.

"You're in for it this time, love. A whole new world of sin," Crowley rasped lowly, as a wicked smile grew on their face.

"Very well then, give me my sin again."

It's been 423 years since that fateful night that would change the trajectory of Crowley and yours relationship forever. You loved each other in secret, while finding freedom in your relationship on Earth, both of you still feared the consequences you would face if either of your sides caught wind of the true nature of your relationship. It seemed that your relationship only got better with time, Armageddon was a testament of that. With the help of Aziraphale, the two of you managed to prevent a destructive war between Heaven and Hell, and remained living on Earth amongst the crowds of humans whose lives had been spared by your hands. Yet, despite this somewhat happy ending, Crowley knew that the fight wasn't over just.

"If you would just listen to me for once y/n, you would see that we are in danger."

"You're being irrational, Crowley. There is no war!"

Your voice had gone raw from how long you and Crowley had been screaming at each other. Crowley was trying to convince you that Heaven and Hell were conspiring and would be back for their revenge, and soon. You however were stuck in your stubbornness and were determined that their was no danger in sight.

Even with their shades on, you could feel the intensity of Crowley's glare as they stared back at you wide-eyed in disbelief that you could be this blind. Pacing the kitchen floor of his apartment, they pinched the bridge of their nose, trying to calm themselves down even though it felt it was useless.

"Y/n, listen to me," they say lowly, "you, Aziraphale, and I are in trouble. The longer we spend on Earth the longer we walk around with a target on our backs waiting to be killed."

"Crowley please, enough of this," you wave your arms impatiently as you pleaded with them with desperate eyes.

Crowley walks across the kitchen island and stand in front of you, holding your arms tightly within his grasp.

"Come with me."

"What?"

"Come with me. We can leave this place while we still have a chance. We can travel amongst the universe and settle down on any other planet. We can have a new start, turn a new page."

"Crowley, we're fine. I promise there is no danger he-"

"No, but you're wrong y/n, because there is!"

You flinch at the boom of their voice as their hands tighten around you. Fear flashing your eyes as you let out a sharp hiss from their tight grip that burned your skin.

"Crowley! Stop, you're scaring me." You manage to free yourself from their grasp. Breathing heavily, you stare at them frozen in fear, unable to recognize Crowley for the first time.

Crowley's faced drop and seeing the fear that they had instilled in you made their body slack and and a weighted dread sink into their stomach. Averting your eyes as you rubbed over the spots where they once held you, they could feel their heart break. The very hands that they swore to use to protect you, had been the same ones to hurt you. As you hesitated to look back up at the demon, when your eyes met and you saw the inner turmoil within their serpent eyes, you imagined the darkness that Crowley's mind was spiring down upon.

"Crowley I-"

"Don't." They stumble backwards distancing themself, afraid of what else they might do, afraid of hurting you again.

Crowley never meant to hurt you, and deep down you knew this. You two had your fair share of arguments over the course of millenniums but they never once lost control of their emotions and hurt you in the way they just did. Even as Crowley heard your thoughts, reassuring them that they weren't wicked and a danger, it wasn't enough. You knew the risks of being with a demon, and they were always afraid that one day you'd decide that being with them was a mistake and that you'd walk out of their life forever. And now, seeing you in this light, seeing that he hurt you and could hurt you, that scared them more than anything.

"There are somethings that'll never change."

Crowley swiftly made way for the door, feeling the walls of the apartment closing in on them. The shouts of Crowley's name as you quickly followed them fell on deaf ears. You're meet with the pouring rain as you follow Crowley outside into the driveway, the lightning being the only thing illuminating the night sky. The growing rolls of thunder seemed to match your quickened heartbeat as your anxiety grew with Crowley's distancing stride.

"Crowley, please!" Your voice comes out strained as you desperately cry out to Crowley. Opening the drivers side, Crowley stiffens as though fighting with themself to stay or go. Looking back at you, their red locks clinging to their face as their face scrunched in anguish, heart breaking more as they saw the pained look on your face.

"As long as you're with me, you will always be in danger."

The memory of Crowley driving away and leaving you behind replayed in your mind all throughout the night. Flashing days and sleepless nights passed as Crowley consumed your thoughts, unable to hide from the pain that their absence caused. This being the farthest things escalated in your relationship, you clung onto hope that there was a way to come back from this. That Crowley would come back and you could find a way to move past this together.

As days turned into weeks, you felt the hope that once burned so brightly begin to snuff out into smoke as you faced the probable reality that Crowley would never return and that you were left on your own. Well not completely on your own. After noticing how silent things had been from you and Crowley, Aziraphale decided to check in. Unaware of the mess that he would stumble upon, he felt blindsided from the state of things, heart broken too in the wake of Crowley's absence. Yet, seeing your severely distressed state, the angel put his emotions aside in order to attend to you. He took you within his care, hoping to help bring the light back in your eyes and comfort you until Crowley could come back.

Padding down the wooden hallway floors, you rub the fatigue of another sleepless night from your eyes as Aziraphale's door comes into view. Pressing an ear against the door, you found the silence on the other side of the door rather odd as he was usually up by this hour. Knocking lightly against the wooden door, you await to hear a stir yet when you get no response, you open the door to make your way in. Walking inside, the sleeping frame of Aziraphale's body come into view as he begins to stir from the noise of your intrusion.

"Y/N? Is everything alright, dear?" The angels voice come out raspy, fresh from sleep.

"Yea, i'm okay," you croak out, voice weary.

He looks at you for a moment, curious as to your sudden intrusion, not that he was bothered but that it was out of character for you to come to him so early in the day. With slow movements, Aziraphale slowly rises from bed, tightening the robe around himself as he made his way to the window. With a tug, the suns rays engulf the room as it casts its warm light throughout the space. Aziraphale closes his eyes, as though in silent gratitude prayer, and basks in the suns warmth. Looking at him, you can't help but feel a stillness in his beauty, especially with the way the sunlight illuminates his face and casts a celestial orange glow around him. Making him look even more angelic if that were even possible.

"But soft, what light through yonder window breaks," Aziraphale breaks the silence, opening his eyes and turning to face you.

"It is the east, and Crowley is the sun."

"You would deprive that from the Almighty herself?" Smiling brightly, you don't miss the way Aziraphale teases you for your endearing words. You find small comfort in his childish tease and bright smile, not being able to help the way your lips tug upwards at his remark. Aziraphale relishes in the small happiness that flashes across your face, even if brief. It had hurt him to see his love in pain especially at the hand of someone he too loved. Looking back to the window, he finds himself getting lost gazing into the crowded streets of Soho beneath him. A silence settles over the two of you, and your eyes remained fix on his side profile as the emptiness of the gravity of your situation creeps back into your mind.

"Crowley's not coming back." It was you who broke the silence this time, Aziraphale turning to you taken aback with furrowed eyebrows by how matter-of-factly you spoke.

"What ever do you mean?"

"I mean they're gone," you inhaled sharply, "for good this time."

"Well no, not really. I'm sure they'll come back, you know how Crowley gets." Aziraphale. Ever the optimist until the very end.

"Aziraphale-"

"You've always known how dramatic they can be I mean really-"

"Aziraphale-" you call out, his optimism making your wounds bleed even more at the false promises of an angel.

"Look, it's only a matter of time before Crowley walks through that door and everything will be as-"

"Aziraphale!" Your voice angrily booms like a roll of thunder as it bounces off the bedroom walls.

"They're not coming back! Aren't they?!"

Despite your volume, it was your tone that cut like a knife. Even as your voice felt so shaky, you spat those words out like venom that laid bitterly on your tongue. Aziraphale could feel his heart break as he stared into your eyes. Red and puffy from fighting to keep your emotions at bay, but also cold and unwavering as you forced yourself to come to the crossroads of the truth.

"No," he says barely above a whisper, a slight tremble in his voice as he barely shakes his head. "No, i'm afraid not my dear."

You've never seen Aziraphale look so defeated. So hopeless as he stared back into your lifeless eyes. The air around you feels restricted as your throat tightens. Your lips quiver as the painful truth of your beloved angels words echo in your head and settle in your heart. Your vision blurs as tears begin to welt in your eyes before inevitably cascading down your cheeks. Aziraphale then wraps his arms around you, pulling you in a tight embrace as you collapse within his arms. Sobs muffled from where your head laid buried in his chest, the world going silent as an insurmountable wave of grief washes over you, pulling you to drown in a sea of sorrow.

You don't know how long you cried for or even how much time had passed. When you came out of your daze, you realized that you and Aziraphale were on the floor as he pressed soft kisses against your temple, hoping to reel you back into reality.

"Forgive me," you croak, voice spent from lament, "i've been lonely, but it's not like I don't know my way." You try to reassure Aziraphale and yourself as you felt hollowed. Guilt also eating at you for putting the angel in this situation, having to take care of you.

"You have nothing to be forgiven for, my dear" he whispers lowly into your ear. Taking the hands that were wrapped tightly around you, he brings them up to caress your face within them. Your tears have dried by now but that doesn't stop him from peppering tender kisses upon your cheeks. Overwhelmed by his soft touch, you feel your face heat up again as the gentle sentiment causes your emotions to arise again. When he feels a salty tear catch upon his lip, he pulls away to see your glossy eyes staring back into his, searching for some kind of relief.

"But I don't know my way, Aziraphale."

The angel remained at your side for the rest of the day, never leaving you alone for a moment longer than absolutely needed. As he aided to your every need and treated you like a fine china plate- afraid to drop you and shatter into a million pieces. And for a while it helped, it made the pain more bearable, the ache of Crowley's absence less debilitating- but even all of Aziraphale's love wouldn't be enough to ix the hole that Crowley left in your life.

You thought hard about your next move. Calculating everything over in your head a million times but all roads led you back to where you were now. Managing to slip out of the Aziraphale's bedroom in the middle of the night, you made your way back to your original bedroom where you were now packing frantically. You packed as much as you could into your suitcase as you grew restless, wanting nothing more than to run away from this emptiness you fear you would never escape from.

As you left your suitcase by the stairwell, you looked down the hall before quietly making your way back to Aziraphale's room. Once inside, you made sure to leave behind the note that you had written for him on the side where you usually laid. You burn the image of his sleeping frame into your mind, wanting your last memory of the angel to be one where he seemed at peace. Leaning across the bed, you place a soft kiss upon the corner of his mouth, careful not to wake him. He stirred slightly beneath your touch, but still remained in a deep sleep even as you pulled away.

Making way for the bedroom door, you freeze under the entranceway.

"Look back, look back," you thought to yourself, a voice of reason wanting to make itself hear. Despite this, you fought against it and forced one foot in front of the other, because you knew if you looked back you would never leave. The cold air greets you as you make your way out into the streets of Soho, winds blowing harshly as you toss your bag into the backseat of your car. As the engine roars to life and you pull onto the main road, you glance at the rearview mirror where the bookshop fades from view. Silently saying goodbye to the place that had too also become home for you. You don't know exactly where you were headed, but just that you were ready to get there. Ready to go, but never to return.

The next morning, Aziraphale finds himself sitting on the edge of the bed where he gripped the white sheets, frustration and heartache threatening to drown him as he re-read your letter line for line, over and over and over again.

"Dearest Aziraphale,

My love, I'm sorry for the mess I've left for you to clean, it was unfair to you given your own heartbreak. Azira, I cannot thank you enough for what you've done for me now and in the past. But now I must go my own way and figure out what to write in this next chapter for myself. I know things will be difficult for if they weren't... well you see I would've killed Romeo and saved Juliet, but I don't write stories that time won't forget. So please angel, forgive me for grabbing the kerosene and letting it all burn to the ground. I've been looking for meaning, I don't know if I like what I've found. Forgive me for I've been lonely and one day I hope to tell you that I now know my way. I'm sorry. "

[lunarubra]

So, here we are. This chapter is shorter than the others, but I wanted to wrap up the first part of the story in a sweet way, and this is what came out. It's pure fluff—I hope you like it! :) More will happen in the next parts, I just need to get back into writing and feel good about it. Thank you for being patient with me, and I’m sorry for the long wait. Comments make me very happy..

Pairing: Cillian x OC (Jiyan Fabris)

Summary: The end of the first part of the story, where they both finally found their balance.

Warning: English not my First Language, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort.

Words: 2266

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Chapter 9 - Glow of the Water

“You know, I always expect the worst from this island, but I’m glad it surprises me sometimes,” Jiyan said with a playful smile.

Cillian, who was driving, shot her a mildly offended look. They had just left Galway, where the night before he’d celebrated the 35th anniversary of the local theatre with fellow actors and screenwriters. It was also where she finally met his famous friend Enda—the one he couldn’t stop talking about.

The event had been incredible—watching all the interconnected plays was engaging, and Jiyan finally got to see Cillian perform on stage, which was one of the most special things he shared with her. Afterward, the actors gathered at a local pub for a lively, traditional Irish night. It was the most fun Jiyan had had in months, especially watching Cillian and Enda get tipsy a bit too quickly, something she found endlessly amusing. Teasing her drunk boyfriend might have bordered on cruelty, but she had enjoyed it far too much to care.

The following morning, after a couple of Bloody Marys for Cillian—and tea for Jiyan, who still couldn’t understand why anyone would want to drink tomatoes (tomatoes were for cooking or salads, not for juice)—and a hearty breakfast, they set off for the coast. Jiyan hadn’t seen much of Ireland outside Dublin, except for a visit to Cork with Cillian, but she’d never explored the western coast or the countryside, which Cillian found hard to believe. She’d been in Ireland for nearly five months, as he reminded her while planning the trip, and still hadn’t visited some of its most beautiful spots. To him, that needed immediate fixing.

“What do you mean?” Cillian asked, frowning slightly.

“Well, you have to admit, as lovely as it is, it’s always raining. And when it’s not, the sun plays hide-and-seek with the clouds. I almost cried last week when the weatherman said we were in for a ‘nice week.’ You know why? Because that ‘nice week’ meant sixteen hours of sunshine. Sixteen hours. For the whole week! That has to violate the Geneva Convention or something.”

“The ‘weatherman’?” Cillian asked, amused.

“In Italy, we’d call him uccello del malaugurio—someone who only brings bad news and somehow makes it happen.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s not actually controlling the weather, love.”

“He’s bringing bad luck, I swear! I know you Irish are used to this, but I’m not. The other day, a woman probably thought I was lost. I kept weaving between buildings, crossing the street a thousand times, trying to chase the sun!”

Cillian stifled a groan, well aware of how frustrating it was to walk with her on sunny days. He almost preferred when it rained, because Jiyan would prepare like a marine about to head into battle—wrapped in two scarves, a beanie covering most of her face—and would march through the streets, efficient and fast. But on sunny days? It was like following an overexcited child with no sense of direction. She’d zigzag across the street, dodging every shadow cast by buildings, street lamps, anything that blocked the sun. She’d jaywalk without hesitation just to stay in the light, and sometimes she even abandoned the sidewalk to walk in the middle of the road. Needless to say, the neighbours had become extra watchful whenever Jiyan was out and about.

The playful banter faded naturally, giving way to the soft sound of Nina Simone’s voice, setting a relaxed, comfortable mood in the car. They were driving along a coastal road where the cliffs met the ocean, the peaceful day mirroring the calm inside. Unlike the stormy days before, the sea was serene, and the sun hung lazily on the horizon. Even with the windows closed, Jiyan could hear the distant calls of seagulls, blending perfectly with Nina Simone’s soothing voice from the speakers.

Cillian’s hand had unconsciously found its way to her leg, drawing lazy circles with his thumb, while Jiyan absentmindedly caressed his forearm. She felt more relaxed than she had in a long time, simply enjoying the scenery and the warm sunlight spilling through the window.

“So why do you say it surprises you?” he asked.

“Well, even though this isn’t exactly my kind of weather, it’s really beautiful—and I’m kind of surprised by that,” she joked, then turned toward him and took his hand. She smiled softly and paused for a moment. “Thank you for today.”

Cillian glanced at her, returning her smile as if trying to capture the moment forever—Jiyan with her wild hair escaping the messy bun, gazing out toward the ocean, her eyes reflecting the different shades of the water.

“We’re almost there,” he said, holding her hand and kissing it.

The trail seemed to fly by as they walked along the cliffs, the beauty of the landscape unlike anything Jiyan had ever experienced. She thought, if there was a place where the colour green had been invented, it had to be here.

They spent most of the hike chatting—getting into lively talks about European and American cinema and even a passionate debate over The Beatles over the Rolling Stones. But once they reached the Cliffs of Moher, the conversation faded, and Jiyan just stood there, quiet, taking in the stunning view.

She leaned back against Cillian’s chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her. Her hands rested on his, holding him as she soaked in the moment, lost in the scenery and the peacefulness surrounding them.

She snuggled deeper into Cillian’s embrace, letting out a contented sigh.

"I love this," she said softly, her voice barely louder than the wind. "It’s beautiful. I don’t think I’ve felt this at peace in... I can’t even remember when."

Cillian hummed in agreement, pulling her even closer. Her hair, tousled by the breeze, brushed against his chin as he pressed a soft kiss to the side of her head.

They stood there for a while, wrapped in each other and the wild beauty surrounding them. The cliffs stretched out endlessly, meeting the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean below. The sea, dark and restless, crashed against the rocks, but the horizon was calm, the late afternoon sun casting a golden light over everything.

"I’m glad you finally got to see this," Cillian murmured, his voice low. "I’ve been wanting to bring you here since we were in Cork."

Jiyan smiled, her gaze still fixed on the ocean. "I get it now. It’s... overwhelming in the best way. It feels like time just stops here."

Cillian chuckled softly, resting his chin on her shoulder. "That’s Ireland for you. It has a way of pulling you in, even when you least expect it."

She tilted her head slightly, looking up at him, her eyes warm and bright. "Thank you for bringing me here," she said, her voice softer and more intimate this time.

"Anytime," he whispered, giving her a gentle squeeze. "It’s moments like this that make all the rain and cloudy days worth it."

They stood together in comfortable silence, both lost in the tranquillity of the moment. Finally, Jiyan broke the stillness, her tone light but playful as she glanced up at him.

“If I had told Samyah last year that I’d find peace—and a whole new life—in Ireland, she probably would’ve staged an intervention,” Jiyan chuckled.

Cillian stiffened slightly, unsure of what to say. He hesitated for a moment before speaking. "You’ve never really talked again about... about what happened, about her. I didn’t want to pry."

Jiyan tightened her grip on his arms around her waist, as if steadying herself. She let out a soft breath. "I never really talked about what happened—before that day when I had the panic attack. It was too painful, and I just hoped I could forget it, lock it away. There are still things that happened after, but I'm not ready to talk about them yet. I don’t even know how to explain it. Then I met you, and I thought I could move on, be happy, and leave everything in the past. But it didn’t work like that. After we got back from Cork, after your sister’s birthday, the panic attacks started again."

"You didn’t tell me..." he said softly, his concern evident.

She turned in his arms to face him. "I know. I’m sorry. I just hoped that if I ignored it long enough, it would disappear."

Cillian cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing her cheek. "I don’t think it works that way, love."

"No, it doesn’t," she replied with a half-hearted smile, sadness lingering in her eyes. "That’s why I started seeing a therapist. And it’s helping… it’s helping a lot."

"You started therapy? When?" he asked, slightly surprised.

"Not long ago, I swear. I’m only on my third session," she said quickly. "I know I should’ve told you sooner, but I wanted to keep it to myself until I felt more comfortable. Honestly, I haven’t been the best patient... I’m not great at asking for help, and it took me a while to figure it out," she admitted. Her voice softened then, her eyes searching his. "Are you... is it okay?"

Cillian’s gaze fixed on her, and he gently placed his hands on her arms. "Am I...? Jiyan, of course. This is good. This is really good." He paused, trying to find the right words. "You’re one of the strongest people I know, but I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been dealing with everything that happened. I want to help, but sometimes... I'm really not sure how."

"Therapy is good—it’s so important," he continued, hesitating for a moment as he glanced around, almost like the scenery might give him the words he needed. "There were days when I could tell something was off. You seemed distant, and I thought giving you space was the right thing to do... that maybe you didn’t want to be pushed. I’m sorry if I wasn’t there when you needed me." he concluded lowering his gaze.

Jiyan shook her head gently, her eyes softening. "Cillian, you’ve already helped more than you know. You didn’t need to fix everything. You just had to be here, and you were. That’s all I needed."

He exhaled slowly, relieved by her words but still carrying a hint of hesitation. "I just... I hate that you went through this alone. I should’ve said something or done more."

She smiled, placing her hand over chest, just above his heart. "I’m working through a lot of things, but one thing I’m sure about... You came into my life exactly when I needed you. I wasn’t ready before, and I don’t think I would’ve let anyone in." Her voice softened as she continued, "But you made it safe for me. I know I shut down sometimes, but you’ve always been patient. You gave me space when I needed it and support when I couldn’t ask for it."

Cillian lowered his head, resting his forehead against hers. "I’m glad, but... I’m here, Jiyan. It’s not just you—I’m here," he emphasised again. "You don’t have to carry it all alone."

"I know," she whispered. "It’s not easy for me, but I’m learning that it’s okay to lean on people again."

They stood there for a moment, forehead to forehead, the gentle sound of the ocean filling the quiet between them. The weight of her words seemed to settle around them, but instead of feeling heavy, it brought a sense of lightness, as if a burden had finally been lifted.

Cillian stepped back slightly, gazing at the person who had entered his life like a hurricane and somehow filled every gap, every empty space inside him. He thought about all the times his friends or brother, after yet another failed relationship, had told him he’d just know when he met the right person. They said it would feel natural, intense, and effortless—he wouldn’t even have to think about it. And they were right. Before he realised it, he was completely connected to her.

“Tá mé i ngrá leat,” he murmured, feeling Jiyan stiffen slightly.

"You..." she started.

"You don’t have to say anything," he said gently. "I just... Tá mé i ngrá leat, Jiyan," he repeated, cupping her face.

“Ez jî ji te hez dikim,” she whispered back.

"What?" he asked, baffled.

"What, I know what you told me in Irish, and you don’t understand Kurdish?" she teased, a playful smile spreading across her face.

Cillian laughed softly, his expression warming. "I think you’ve got the advantage when it comes to languages, Aji."

"I love you too," she said again, this time more softly, and then kissed him slowly. She poured all her emotions into the kiss—all the love, gratitude, and vulnerability she had held inside. Cillian responded in kind, holding her even closer as the moment deepened.

When the kiss finally ended, they stayed like that, forehead to forehead, breathing heavily, as if they’d both come up for air after diving deep into something profound.

"Okay, this was amazing—I love you, and the place is beautiful," Jiyan said with a teasing tone, "but it’s freezing, way too cold for tiny Mediterranean me. Can we go back?"

Cillian laughed softly, kissing her forehead “Yeah we can go back, come on”.

As they began to walk back along the cliffs, the salty breeze tousled their hair and the distant sound of waves crashing against the rocks filled the air. Jiyan leaned into Cillian’s side, feeling warmth radiate from him despite the chill of the weather. They exchanged smiles, sealing their pact in that beautiful moment, the ocean and the cliffs standing as their witnesses.

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Thank you so much for taking the time to read this chapter. Your feedback, in any form helps me to continue write this story; and comments makes me happy. See you at the next one :)

[collegiatesins]

professor statistics.

name — song ha joon

gender & pronouns — cis man

age — thirty'5

department — acting & theatre studies.

classes taught — stage combat and physical theatre, contemporary drama and performance, introduction to acting, & voice and diction for the stage.

temperament — enigmatic & stoic (with a begrudging soft side for his students).

teacher quirks — refuses to call students by name, always refers to them by the color of their shirt. if multiple people are wearing the same color shirt they have to duke it out to be red shirt 1,2, etc. grades on an insane curve, so even if you nailed your assignment, if someone else in class bombed then your grade suffers too (does it to quell competition among students and ensure they learn how to work well with others + not be so focused on just themselves as theatre kids are usually want to do.) bikes to and from campus, has to constantly change what bike rack he leaves it at because students love to find it and leave random stickers on it. hates musicals and has never watched one in his life and never plans on doing so. which causes a lot of arguments when some students find out.

special interests — custom bike building, cancelling office hours because he has a "meeting" and cancelling meetings because he has "office hours", finding the dummy accounts his students try to follow him on social media and blocking them, stealing fruit from his neighbors fruit trees, rewatching the john wick movies for the umpteenth time.

fierce aversions — paper work of any kind. ego trips and temper tantrums. over involved parents. ending class on time.

fun facts ! — is rumored to have a fiancee and a kid on the way but no one can find evidence. some think he may have started the rumor himself to get students to stop hitting on him.

rate a professor rating — 6.8 (individualism and feeling special is kinda a big thing for theatre kids and joon's refusal to play into that either makes him a hit - the student learns and deepens their love of the craft OR it makes them spiral and they hate him for not making them feel like the next meryl streep every time they get their lines right)

mini questionnaire.

how  long  have  they  been  teaching?  do  they  enjoy  the  job  -  or  did  they  have  a  different  career  in  mind originally? nobody believes him when he says it but joon does very much enjoy his job. people around assume that he must think this is a step down (he performed on westend after all) but truth be told he'd rather be teaching at palladian than back on stage professionally himself. he had a good run, thirteen years of it actually. from nineteen to thirty two he chased a high he could only ever find under blinding lights and an auditorium full of spectators. it wasn't until the death of his mother (joon wasn't even told that she died until after her funeral because she didn't want him to have to fly home and miss multiple nights of his current show run) that he realized there wasn't much work-life balance in being a stage actor. the euphoric high began wearing thin. he was burnt out, guilt ridden, and losing his passion for the craft. so he retired. ready to go back home to busan and help on the family farm. but then a introductory to acting part time teaching position opened up at his alma mater palladian and the rest is history. now he spends the school year in england to teach and gets to go home for the summers.

do  they  teach  at  langston,  or  palladian?  what  are  their  thoughts  on  the  opposing  university? joon started as a part time professor at palladian three years ago. he was quickly upgraded to full time and now teaches multiple courses. he clearly has a soft spot for palladian because it's where he did his undergrad ( when his career starting taking off junior year, the staff worked hard to help him still be able to graduate. something he promised his mother he'd do no matter what. ) he doesn't particularly have a strong opinion on langston. indifferent really. the students are a little rowdy and entitled but what more could you expect from a bunch of young americans? if anything he'd say their presence here has livened the place up a little. at least in his classrooms anyway. his palladian students don't want to be outdone by the overzealous langston transplants. so it's made everyone bring their A game.

are  there  any  rumors  surrounding  them?  are  they  true? it was sometime last year that joon heard the rumor for the first time. that he had a pregnant fiancee back in korea and that's why he went back so frequently. then it's snowballed into a wife and two children. now it's a wife and kid in korea and a fiancee in bath pregnant with twins. creative. he'll give his students that. he's not sure where the rumor originated from but he hasn't really done or said anything to dispel it either. kids will gossip, even if he shut this one down, three more would rear it's ugly head. ironically enough joon did meet someone shortly after these rumors started and he has been thinking about popping the question. but of course he'd never tell his students that. they'd claim they manifested or something and then ask for invites to the wedding.

[thetriforcetriohouse]

Cadence of Hyrule

Octavo

"It's not a guitar, it's a lute!"

Main Character Syndrome.

Indie composer. Vocaloid producer. His tracks are always amazing.

Stage actor.

Has the combination of being a band geek and a theater kid. He's absolutely insufferable.

Can play an obscenely wide range of instruments. If you hand him something, he can probably coax a sound out of it.

Talented singer. Tenor range.

He doesn't have a favorite instrument or Vocaloid, all of them can be utilized to create beautiful sounds.

That being said, he does have a soft spot for the lute.

He's absolutely insufferable about it, too, because lutes are so much more fragile than guitars. He insists that it takes more skill to effectively play one.

Open to any genre of music. He appreciates the different nuances of each, even if they seem unpalatable on the surface.

Performs at the same local theatre Fi does. Pronounces it 'thee-A-tur'. Gets defensive when people make fun of him for it.

He's a talented actor! Whether it's Shakespeare or a stage musical, he can do it without any problems. The problem is that he can overact and get really hammy with it...

Also plays instruments in the orchestra if they need a stand-in, and will even conduct.

Absolutely refuses to call a movie theater a theater. He calls it a cinema instead. Every time.

Plays rhythm games when he wants to unwind. Sometimes he streams it.

Dating a stage singer named Harmony.

Unlike ALMOST EVERY SINGLE ZELDA VILLAIN I've included at this point, Octavo does NOT want to jump Ganondorf's bones.

On the contrary, Octavo absolutely loathes Ganondorf! He sees Ganondorf as his arch nemesis, and will go out of his way to make life harder for him whenever Octavo sees him.

All because Ganondorf cut him in line at the grocery store one time.

Ganondorf doesn't even remember it. Now there's this weird little twerp glaring at him every time Ganondorf leaves the house.

Skull Kid

Yet another child that gives Link life advice!!

He's got that ADHD + Autism combo.

Besties with Agitha. Currently living in her treehouse.

Hates showing his face. Has a massive collection of masks that he changes out regularly.

Prankster. Nothing outright malicious, but things tend to go missing when he's around...

Has a mean streak, but he feels really guilty about it, so it doesn't come out often.

Unless he's gaming.

He's absolutely screamed insults into the headset when somebody gets a kill on him.

Plays Minecraft with Tulin.

[chipmunkfanno1love]

Musical Moments in the SCU

This is in reference to @thegreengoose22 post and @wherearedagrapes response about having more musical moments in the SCU franchise:

While we may be some of the few people who'd like to see some more musical moments in the SCU, I honestly believe it would be amazing to showcase the actor's musical talents in these characters. I can acknowledge the SCU is meant to be an action-comedy with a few dark and intense moments (especially in Sonic 3), and it isn't a musical (unless you include the rock opera moment from the Knuckles series). Regardless, I still think that the SCU can make some musical moments work.

Ben Schwartz:

Ben Schwartz is fantastic at blending both comedy and musical theatre together nicely. He's also a pretty decent rapper. His other animated characters like Dewey from the Duck Tales reboot and even Leonardo from Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles had their moments to sing. I don't see why Sonic can't have a few moments to sing himself.

*Warning* - Mentions drug use.

Ben's rap talent:

Dewey Duck singing:

Leonardo the Teenage Mutant Ninja turtle singing:

Idris Elba:

I learnt through browsing on Wikipedia and YouTube that Knuckles voice actor has quite a musical career up his belt. He's a surprisingly talented rapper (like Knuckles himself he's also a professional fighter). This is the cleanest rap I could find online for him, but he's got plenty of videos YouTube if you want to check them out yourself:

Idris rapping:

See 1:40 to 2:08 for Idris Elba's rap (*Warning* - Suggestive moments and dance moves)

I honestly imagine it would be a lot of fun to see Sonic and Knuckles challenge each other to a rap battle. I could hear Knuckles saying to "You will be defeated in the challenge of rap, just as I would defeat you with my fists, Hedgehog!" to which Sonic responds with amusement "Oh, we'll see who wins, Knucklehead." among a number of quick-witted taunts at the echidna's expense.

Sonic, I imagine we'll do a very Sonic style rap with his catchphrase "Gotta Go Fast!" being used quite literally in his pacing and rhythm. Though nobody expects Knuckles to keep up with Sonic or even know how to rap, he surprises everyone including Sonic with his strong and rich rap vocals. He proves to be a tough competitor in rap as well as battle for Sonic. Nonetheless, the blue hedgehog takes the challenge in stride and doesn't give up on one upping his opponent.

Maybe Amy could interrupt the rap battle with her own rap talent, which I'm sure will surprise the two of them.

James Marsden:

James Marsden is certainly no stranger to singing. He's done a number of musical projects both in and outside of making movies.

I can't not mention his work as unofficial Disney Prince, Prince Edward from the Disney movie Enchanted (and also briefly its sequel Disenchanted). He certainly proves he's got Princely vocals, lol.

James Marsden also showed off his Broadway style flair in the movie version of Hairspray where he played Corny Collins.

*Warning* - May be some suggestive jokes and some course language:

I also wanted to mention James Marsden's work with a potential casting choice for Amy Rose. Here's James Marsden as Hitch Trailblazer singing with potential Amy voice actress, Kimiko Glenn as Izzy Moonbow. James shows off his singing talent, while Kimiko shows she can balance her musical talent (singing and soft rapping) while also being funny.

I'm personally hopeful that Kimiko Glenn will get the part of Amy. I believe she could do Amy's voice and character justice, plus her previous work with both Ben Scwartz (Ducktales) and James Marsden (My Little Pony: A New Generation) shows she has good chemistry with at least two members of the SCU cast.

I will mention @wherearedagrapes comment that they believe Amy thinks in Broadway style numbers (which I agree with). Kimiko certainly has Broadway experience as shown in her inclusion of the Broadway musical version of Waitress.

Another potential Amy Rose candidate, Anna Kendrik, also has Broadway musical experience, but I'm putting a higher vote for Kimiko as I prefer Anna to continue her role as Queen Poppy in the Trolls franchise and for a totally new actress to play Amy.

Anyway, here below are a list of potential options for musical numbers in the SCU. I'd love to hear your thoughts on them.

[skepsiss]

Modern problems, Modern solutions pt7 *final*

This is the last part of this mini-series! This is very soft and romantic. I promised everything would turn out okay, and it turned out more than okay. Hope you guys like it! The story takes place a little over a month since pt6; Holiday vibes, so if you're in the mood for soft winter vibes, this is great as a stand-alone too.

cw: none. It's all soft.

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5 Pt6 Pt7

---

November hadn’t been smooth sailing; everything after the events of Halloween 2015 had been anything but smooth sailing. Eddie had struggled with apologizing and explaining the situation to everyone he had complained to and he had worked hard to prove to Robin that he was sorry for how he had acted. She in turn had apologized and they both seemed to understand why the other had reacted the way that they had.

You were just protecting him, I get in.

You were protecting yourself, I get it. 

They had both been pushed into a corner and while Eddie didn’t really think it was fair that his reaction had been to call Robin a dyke, it had happened and he needed to take responsibility for that. He’d learned over the years–and was still perfecting the art–that apologizing and just doing better mattered more than anything else. Admitting you were wrong was tough though, and Eddie knew himself… he knew that he held grudges and was stubborn but he had been more than compelled to put a swift end to any perceived fight with Steve and Robin. 

It had been awkward, that was for sure, and Eddie had taken a long time to sort out his own feelings. To Steve’s credit… he had been patient, very patient. But it had been disconcerning because everyone knew what had happened between them and that ultimately, in the end, Steve had confessed. 

What a concept. 

It had taken Eddie a long time to accept that Steve really meant it and this wasn’t some rich man’s fancy; it had taken twice as long for Eddie to admit his own feelings to himself. It was embarrassing and it had been a rocky start, but every time Steve dropped Dustin off at Hellfire he lingered and Eddie would quietly chat with him until he had wasted too much time and people began to complain. He had shown up to Steve’s basketball games too and stood awkwardly by the bleachers only to flush red when Steve spotted him and came over between plays. 

He felt spoiled and shy about it all at once, never having been faced with the prospect of a real person liking him back, let alone their generation’s teen-heartthrob. But that hadn’t stopped Eddie from calling Steve late in the evening and talking to him on the phone quietly until Wayne told him to be quiet. Even after that Eddie would whisper into his phone until he couldn’t anymore, just talking for hours. 

Eventually, it became ridiculous for them to be acting the way they were and to not be dating. 

They’d gone on their first date the weekend after Thanksgiving; it had been impromptu and amateurish but Eddie had felt giddy when Steve picked him up and hadn’t said anything for the first thirty minutes of their drive. He had been happy though… ridiculously happy. Happier than he could ever remember. He was practically beaming the whole time even if he was too nervous to say anything. 

The date hadn’t been anything spectacular, but it was novel; they’d gone to see a movie at the local theatre that did special features of old films. They watched a re-release of The Princess Bride and Eddie had only felt a bit self-conscious about whispering movie facts to Steve during the screening. Did you know the actor who played Fezzik was able to fit his whole hand over Robin Wright’s head? He did it between takes because she always got so cold on set. Apparently, he used to do it for his mother when he was a teen.

Did you know the ROUSs were operated by Dwarves and one of them got arrested the night before shooting and the production had to spring him?

And so on.

Steve had hummed and smiled every time Eddie had leaned in to tell him something, and thankfully there weren’t enough people in the theatre to complain about their constant whispering. 

Eddie had still flushed brightly and clammed up when Steve held his hand as they left the theatre. It had been surreal and Eddie had hunched in order to hide despite the fact that Steve and him were practically the same height. But it felt amazing to be walking in public holding Steve Harrington’s hand. Not just because he was popular or whatever, but because he wasn’t ashamed to be holding Eddie’s hand, that… and because it was Steve. Steve… the sweetest guy Eddie had ever met and the guy he had somehow convinced to fall for the local, punk-dork. Steve, who unapologetically brothered kids who had no right being as close to him as they were. Steve, who had broken down and been heartsore over the prospect of not dating Eddie. Eddie. Not dating him….

That had been the first date of many. 

It was snowing in Hawkins today as Eddie breathed hot air onto his hands to warm them. December was here and the town was decorated with Christmas lights as people bustled around the city center: children free from school for winter break and parents stress-shopping for last-minute gifts.

It was only a few days until Christmas and this was going to be the first proper Christmas Eddie was going to experience. 

Wayne had always said they were Jewish, but Eddie had never gone to temple in his life and he didn’t know anything about Hanukkah, really. Eddie wasn’t sure if he hadn’t celebrated Christmas as a kid with his mother or his father for the same reason, or if they just didn’t have the money. 

Either way, Steve celebrated Christmas and Eddie was keen to spend that time with him. It was romantic, and picturesque in a way Eddie would never admit to wanting. 

Steve’s family wasn’t religious, not really, and Eddie hadn’t properly met Steve’s parents yet so Christmas was going to be a bit of a gong-show, but surprisingly Eddie found himself looking forward to it. That and Will had vehemently suggested that Hellfire should do Secret Santa this year. Eddie had drawn Lucas and he had just roped Steve into shopping with him. A good excuse to see him… a good excuse to spend time with his boyfriend. 

Boyfriend. 

Eddie’s stomach flipped as he thought of the word, smiling privately to himself and letting the heat from his own love-sick heart warm him. He was so lame. So ridiculously lame, but Eddie couldn’t think of a time he had been happier. Steve made him so happy. “You planning to freeze?” Eddie glanced up, shaken from his reverence, and somehow managed to smile wider when he saw Steve walking down the sidewalk toward him. Steve was dressed much warmer than he was, smiling with his cheeks stained red from the cold. “Not if you have anything to say about it,” Eddie replied, shuffling toward Steve and sticking his hands out in a claw motion. It was as if they had rehearsed it, because without missing a beat Steve had opened his arms and his coat for Eddie, letting him snuggle in to warm up. “Jesus Christ,” Steve cursed, shivering as he wrapped Eddie up. “Your hands are freezing.” “I couldn’t find my gloves,” Eddie sighed, running his hands up and down Steve’s sweater, already feeling warmer. “Should we buy some?” Steve asked, leaning back just far enough so he could look at Eddie. “No, I’m fine,” Eddie insisted, breaking the hug so they could get moving. “Baby…” Steve insisted. The pet name made Eddie smile and look off to hide his joy a bit. It never got old to hear Steve call him baby. 

Babe. Baby. Angel. Eds. 

“Here,” Steve was saying as Eddie refocused and watched him take off his gloves and try to put them on Eddie’s hands. “Woah, no,” Eddie complained, wriggling his fingers to make it difficult for Steve to put the gloves on. “What about you?” “It’s fine, I’ll just put my hands in my pockets,” Steve insisted, his breath fogging up the air around them. “And I can’t just put my hands in my pockets? How am I supposed to hold your hand with your hands in your pockets?” Eddie asked, not breaking contact with Steve (under no circumstances did he want that), but not making it easy at all for him to put the gloves on. 

“How am I supposed to with you putting your hands in your pockets?” Steve countered, raising a brow at Eddie. Eddie huffed dramatically, before snatching one of the gloves and putting it on. “Keep that one,” he insisted, waiting impatiently for Steve to put his glove on before grabbing his hand as if it was an inconvenience. He over-exaggerated putting his other hand in his pocket before grinning at Steve, absolutely smitten. “We’ll share, come on, Harrington,” Eddie teased, beginning to drag Steve by the hand down the sidewalk. It made Steve laugh slightly; the sound dreamy and affectionate. 

Eddie slowed eventually and tucked into Steve’s side, still holding his hand with the other warmly stuff in his pocket. It was easy to fall into step with Steve, especially as they chatted and window-shopped for Lucas. It felt comfortable and calm in a way Eddie couldn’t describe. It felt perfect, really. It felt perfect to be walking through Hawkins with the first snowfall, debating casually over what gift to buy a friend as he held his boyfriend’s hand.

His boyfriend.

Eddie’s stomach swooped again and he tipped his head onto Steve’s shoulder, soaking in the warmth and the affection and wondering if he had ever been happier in his whole life.