#David Auburn

[doyouknowthismusical]

#musical theater #do you know this musical #poll #tick tick boom #jonathan larson #david auburn #language: english

[do-you-know-this-play]

#proof #david auburn #theatre #theater #tumblr polls #plays

[jerichopalms]

*Charlie’s Angels (2019, dir. by Elizabeth Banks)

#charlie's angels #movies of 2022 #movie poster #elizabeth banks #you go girl pass that bechdel test #52 weeks of women #52 films by women #directed by women #women directors #female directors #women screenwriters #female screenwriters #david auburn #evan spiliotopoulos

[newwwwusername]

Fic title : Your Fever is Persistent, but You're Getting Better!

@sicktember 2023 prompt : Persistent Fever

Rating : Teen & Up Audiences

Fandom : Proof (Stageplay)

Pairing : Robert & Catherine

Additional tags : Fever, Caretaker Catherine (Proof), Sick Robert (Proof), Father-Daughter Relationship (not the gross kind), Mental Instability, Robert Needs a Hug (Proof), Irritability, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Caretaking

Word count : 305

#fanfiction #fanfic #fanfic challenge #fanfic prompts #sicktember 2023 #sicktember day 8 #persistent fever #proof #david auburn #proof play #proof - auburn #theatre #theater

[frontmezzjunkies]

MTC Celebrates Royalty in Summer, 1976

#frontmezzjunkies reviews: #Summer1976Play @MTC_NYC written by #DavidAuburn directed by #DanielSullivan starring #LauraLinney & #JessicaHecht #Broadway #ManhattanTheatreClub #MTCNYC #SamuelJFriedmanTheatre

Laura Linney (left) and Jessica Hecht (right) in MTC’s Summer, 1976. Photo by Jeremy Daniel, 2023. The Broadway Theatre Review: MTC’s Summer, 1976 By Ross It all started back in the Summer of 1976, in Columbus, Ohio. “I didn’t like her child,” says one mother, layering a different level of disdain on the other, but the connection lingers as these two sit, like the acting royalty they are. They…

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#broadway #Broadway play #Daniel Sullivan #David Auburn #Jessica Hecht #laura linney

[caroleditosti]

'Summer, 1976' Laura Linney and Jessica Hecht are Terrific

The acting by Laura Linney and Jessica Hecht is terrific.

(L to R): Laura Linney, Jessica Hecht in Summer, 1976 (courtesy of Jeremy Daniel) Summer, 1976 at the Manhattan Theatre Club’s Samuel J. Friedman Theatre is predominately two solo performances with a few dynamic interchanges, the principal one occurring at the conclusion. The static, expository “play,” directed by Daniel Sullivan, occurs in the minds and reflections of Diane (Laura Linney) and…

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#Daniel Sullivan #David Auburn #Jessica Hecht #Laura Linney #Summer 1976

[gryfflepuffinthetardis]

The Man Who Sold the World (Sweet Jane Part Three) — Campbell Bain x Reader

Sweet Jane Episode One: Hey Jude

Sweet Jane Episode Two: Fly Like an Eagle

“She’s a mystery, but allow me to uncomplicate her for you. She isn’t impressed by material things. She’s a romantic; all she wants is love, conversation, and wine.”

Warning: Trauma from a toxic ex, Fear of a toxic ex, Stalking,

Campbell, Fergus, and Y/N were on a stage, playing music while Rosalie walked through the crowd with her gloves on, handing around a petition, as Dancing in the Street played.

“This is street radio, keeping you, you dancing in the street! And if you like what you've heard so far, then come and sign the petition which says: ‘We, the undersigned, would like Campbell Bain and Ready Eddie McKenna to be given their own show on local radio’, and make us the first DJs in radio history to go professional by popular demand!”

The crowd applauded and Campbell played Do Ya Think I'm Sexy. “Here's an anonymous dedication to Debbie, who works in the travel center just across from us, from,” He started talking in the husky “dead smoochy” voice again, "a secret admirer who could show you what love is, yeah!" Then there was a slight pause before Campbell pointed, “Well, all right, Debbie, it's that wee baldy guy in the blue anorak.”

The audience laughed at his humor as he took Y/N’s hands and eased her into a dance, making his hair flop about before a police officer came up, turning off the boombox, making the audience boo.

“Right, party's over. You're busking without a permit and ye's have got one minute to clear off.”

Campbell, even though he had a microphone and was face-to-face with the officer, he still shouted into the microphone, “A PERMIT?! ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT,” He had gestured to the cop and then himself before turning to the audience, “WE NEED A PERMIT TO DANCE?!”

“NO!” The crowd shouted.

“DO WE NEED A PERMIT TO BOOGIE?!” Campbell shouted as the cop walked off, annoyed and Y/N and Fergus exchanged looks.

“NO!”

“WE ARE HERE TO BOOGIE AND WE SHALL NOT BE MOVED!” Campbell enthusiastically pumped his fist over his head, triumphantly.

The crowd cheered and applauded as Y/N thought she spotted someone taking pictures… but they seemed to be focused only on her, if she moved away from Campbell and Fergus, the camera followed only her. It wasn’t the kind that the press used being something like a Nikon model camera but more of a Canon model. She got distracted when Fergus hissed at Campbell, “What are you doing?” Fergus asked.

“I told you it would work! We've got a genuine incident going here!” Campbell said, excitedly, making Y/N look at him and then said in an excited singsong voice, “We are gonna be in the papers!”

Y/N joined them, poking her head around Fergus, “We're gonna be in jail, Campbell.”

There were police sirens wailing as more police officer came running up.

“...Yeah, we'll just merge quietly into the crowd and then leg it.” Campbell said and they grabbed their stuff and ran off, pushing through the crowd and Rosalie followed them, and it quickly became obvious where they were to the police.

Y/N ran past the guy still taking pictures and she got a sense of familiarity, so she stopped and looked at him but he ran off to a distance before taking more pictures of her before Campbell came back, grabbing her hand and pulling her.

“COME ON!”

Fergus, Campbell, and Y/N  climbed over a sort barricade of junk. Y/N walked backwards to see the guy still taking pictures before she accidently stepped off the side of the junk and hit the ground with a yelp. Campbell went to her as Fergus held out a hand for Rosalie but she declined, despite wearing gloves and climbed over herself as Campbell helped Y/N up, a great constrast from when they first met just months ago.

“You alright?”

“Peachy pie.” She said, somewhat sarcastically.

He grinned and then he kissed her cheek and took her hand and ran off.

--

Eddie was in the station, filling in for Y/N who was supposed to be filling in for Campbell if he weren’t there. But neither were there.

“That was Runaway and this is Ready Eddie, standing in for Y/N L/N who should be standing in for Campbell Bain, who have both... run away! So... if you're out there and Campbell Bain is sitting next to you, smoking a fag and having a wee blether with your invisible voices or if you see Y/N L/N keying Campbell Bain’s dad’s car or furthering guilting him, tell them to—!” He played Baby Come Back as the four patients entered the station.

“Is it seven already?” Campbell asked.

“It's quarter past. Where the hell have you been?” Eddie demanded.

“Y/N, Rosalie and I got an afternoon pass. We staged a publicity stunt! A road show right in the middle of Argyle Street! And the police even came to break it up! Are you gonna tell me that's not frontpage news?!” He said, excitedly.

“What papers did you invite?” Eddie said, irritated.

It was immediately clear that Campbell was not aware of this fact, “‘Invite’? You mean you have to invite them?” He looked around at the group as Y/N closed the blinds over the window, anxiously, “Does that not... slightly... cheapen it?”

“Campbell, this station is falling apart. If something doesnae happen soon, we'll no have a station to publicize. In the past fifteen minutes, yet another channel on the mixer has blown; if I don't get any good news from Evelyn tomorrow about a new mixer, we may have to stop broadcasting altogether!” He started to shout in Campbell’s face, “You want to go professional? RULE ONE: TURN UP FOR YOUR SHOW!”

Campbell hung his head, ashamed and muttered, “...Sorry, Eddie.”

Eddie, then turned to Fergus and shouted, “How'd you no realize that channel was gonnae blow? How was it no checked?”

“...Sorry, Eddie.” Fergus shrugged.

Eddie then turned to Rosalie, “And what about you? You're the station manager; 's your job to make sure the show goes out!”

“...Sorry, Eddie.” She said, softly and splashed some Dettol into her hands and rubbed them together.

Then he turned to Y/N, “Aren’t you supposed to keep them in line, Y/N!?” Eddie shouted at Y/N who didn’t look sorry but more angry and tiresome, used to being screamed at. But she wasn't going to take it anymore.

“And where were you during Campbell’s first show. You were twenty minutes late, McKenna. Point is everyone makes mistakes and by the way WHY THE HELL AM I IN CHARGE OF KEEPING THEM IN LINE, I’M ONLY EIGHTEEN! I’M THE YOUNGEST ONE HERE!” She then spoke loudly but not in a yell again, if she yelled her voice became all hoarse from lack of use. “so how about you stop yelling at us because we’ve got work to do, so let’s just try and see a little bit of discipline and professionalism around here, huh? That alright with you, salesman of double windows.” She sassed much like a sassy temp would.

“Anyway. Record's almost finished. I've got to go to work.” Eddie said, putting his coat on.

“No problem.” Campbell said and he sat in the DJ chair while Y/N sat in the co-DJ chair, “Right.”

“Quiet! We're going on air now!” Rosalie said, loudly, making Eddie put a finger to his ear.

Y/N played the Hospital Radio Saint Jude's jingle as Eddie left and Campbell spoke into the microphone, “And that was Baby Come Back, coming at you from 1968.”

Apparently Rosalie felt the near empty hallway wasn’t quiet enough because she opened the door and shouted down the corridor, “I said, QUIET!” Her voice echoed on the radio, making Y/N flinch.

“Rosalie!” Campbell hissed.

Rosalie then spotted her husband, glaring at her, “Oh. It's you.”

It was quiet for a moment before Y/n leaned over Campbell, bringing the microphone to her mouth. “Um… this next song will be to all those unaccepting fathers who won’t accept that their son is amazing just the way they are but refuse to accept them and criticize him to the point that he had a legitimate manic episode.” Not true but he didn't know that. Nor did he deserve to know that.

“Y/N.” Campbell blushed.

“And also, for all those who got away. Oh Father.” She started playing Madonna’s Oh Father.

Campbell pushed the fader slider and he pulled out a plastic bag, “I, uh, kind of guilt tripped my mother into stealing some money from my dad.” He smiled nervously, “And I bought you these.” He pulled a pair of light purple on light blue headphones.

“Campbell…” She smiled, touched. “You didn’t have to.”

“Well, I did break yours. Here,” He opened the box and unraveled the wire, spazzily and then he put them over her neck, leaning forwards her as he moved her hair and tucked them behind her ears. His eyes glanced down at her lips and he slowly leaned closer and then suddenly panic erupted inside her chest as traumatic memories flashed behind her eyes and she kicked the swivel chair back and ran out of the station, leaving Campbell very confused and now feeling dejected, his posture sank and he pouted, now resembling a kicked puppy dog (possibly kicked by his father or Stuart)

--

Evelyn was still perpetually closed minded about not only the patients working at the station but group therapy. Where was Doctor Winter!?

Campbell was pacing back and forth, running his hands through his hair as he eyed Y/N warily given that he had tried to kiss her and she ran in the opposite direction at full-speed but she was avoiding his gaze as Rosalie cleaned the station with her last bottle of Dettol when Eddie entered.

“How bad is it?” Campbell asked, eagerly.

Clearly Eddie was also annoyed with Evelyn’s behavior because he bitterly said, “We're getting nothing; they're afraid we may be a luxury they cannae afford; but they do wantae know if we want to do something for the Open Day next week.” He turned to Fergus, “What do you think?”

“They can't do this!” Campbell whined as Y/N went to him, calming him down by running her hands through his floppy locks, he leaned into their touch.

“How long can we keep going?” Eddie asked Fergus.

“A few months, or...” Fergus started.

“Few days.” Eddie finished.

“They are nipping my brilliant career in the bud!” Campbell shouted.

“They want rid of you, you know.” Francine said.

“Oh, aye?” Eddie asked and Francine nodded.

“That's how they do things in here. They never say ‘ye cannae do that’ or ‘ye cannae have that’, but ye cannae. You wantae put a poster up by your bed, they'll tell you there's nae Blu-tack. If you find some Blu-tack, they tell you it'll damage the paint. If you get some paint, they'll tell you the color doesnae match. They never actually stop you, but somehow you just stop.”

Y/N chuckled bitterly, “Story of my life.”

“Well, not this time.” Campbell said, determinedly, “Eddie, you tell them that yes, we do want to do something for the Open Day. We are gonna run a fundraiser to buy a new mixing desk.”

“How?”

“I see a Hospital Radio Road Show on a flatbed lorry. I see music and dancing. I see reporters!” He said, enthusiastically.

“I see no money, Campbell.” Eddie rubbed his temple.

“Well, we'll charge to play requests and dedications! And then, we will pull off one absolutely brilliant publicity stunt that will blaze its colors across every newspaper in Scotland!” He declared as Y/N got an idea.

“Such as?” Eddie asked, flatly.

“...I don’t know!” Campbell sputtered but remained undeterred, “I-I could get up on the roof of the hospital and threaten to jump unless the punters give us enough to buy a new mixer.

“Aye, but they might want you to jump.” Y/N said in a slightly sarcastic deadpan voice.

“Well then I'll threaten no to jump unless the punters give us enough to buy a new mixer.” Campbell half-joked, getting close to her, at least she was making eye contact with him again.

“Campbell, they are not going to let you threaten to jump off the hospital rooff for their Mental Health Week Open Day!” Eddie scolded.

“It was only my first idea!” Campbell defended, “Come on, Y/N, Fergus, Rosalie—we've gotta mobilize the troops! Hospital radio must survive!”

He took Y/N’s hand and walked off with Fergus following while the skeptical Eddie sat down and Rosalie was writing in her notebook.

Campbell came back and spoke to Rosalie, “Rosalie, what are you doing?”

“Uh, just—writing a list.” She said.

“Come on!”

“I gotta make a phone call!” Y/N said and ran down the hall as Campbell whined after her.

“Y/N!”

--

Campbell gathered the gang and the inmates for an announcement which as per usual annoyed Alistair.

“Fellow inmates! I suppose you're all wondering why I've asked you here today.”

“Just get on with your bid.” Alistair complained.

“Yes, how dare we interrupt your TV time.”  Y/N deadpanned.

"I liked it better when you didn't speak at all." Alistair muttered, grumpily.

“We all remember what life here was like before hospital radio.”  Campbell said.

“Aye, a lot quieter.” Hector piped up.

"Becasue Y/n never spoke." Alilaster grumbled but he was ignored completely.

“You're right, Hector! Hospital radio has brought us music, laughter, got us dancing in the corridors! Before that, the most excitement we got here was listening to you fart God Save the Queen or waiting for Myra the Catatonic to blink or trying to get Y/N to talk!” He smiled at her with a light in his eyes, “Now, is that what you want to go back to?” Campbell then turned to look at Sheila who was shaking her head, “Is it?”

“No!” She said.

Campbell paced with his hands behind his back as if a solider, addressing his troop, making Y/N Well. Unless we can raise the dosh to buy a new mixer, that's all there's going to be round here.

“What's a ‘mixer’?” Billy asked.

“Shh!” Margaret shushed him as Fergus and Eddie exchanged amused looks.

“But with your help, we are going to be holding a fundraiser at the Open Day. We are going to be staging a Hospital Radio Road Show, through a 5 kilowatt P.A. on a flatbed lorry in the courtyard, and we're going to need volunteers. To help set up and run the show; to help rattle tins—” Campbell explained, passionately and Y/N noticed Rosalie writing down in her little notebook, “but most of all, to help with the main fundraising event of the day, the Loony Pools!”

Y/N muffled her laughter into her palm as Eddie repeated this questioningly in a low voice to an amused Fergus. “Loony Pools?”

Campbell took a stack of homemade coupons from Y/N, giving her a grateful smile, “We're gonna be handing out coupons, like this one, with details of the contestants—half loonies, half boring folk—who'll be assigned numbers, one to twenty-four, by lottery. Two loonies in a pair is a score draw of three points. But if only the odd-numbered contestant's a loony, then it's a home win, one point. If only the even-numbered contestant is a loony, then it's an away win, one and a half points. If neither of them are loonies, it's a no-score draw of two points. A pound a line, best of eight, high score wins, five dividends of cheap prizes.”

The patients muttered in confusion and Hector asked, “What?”

“Yeah, I’m lost too, Cam.” Y/N muttered.

“...Basically, it's Spot the Loony.” Campbell summed up.

“Oh, cheeky!” A patient said.

“That’s you.” Y/N said in a low tone, nudging Campbell, “Cheeky little rascal.”

Campbell let a blushing smile as his cheeks reddened before turning back to the patients with a goofy lovestruck smile on his face, bouncing on his heels, excitedly. “Now! Volunteers?”

“Aye. I'll volunteer.” Margaret raised her hand.

“Me as well!” Billy volunteered.

“Me too!” Y/N chimed in.

“That's the spirit! Because we are going to show them—” Campbell beamed and then he started chanting while holding his fist up as if rebelling against institutional oppression… they kind of were… in terms of rebelling against oppression towards mental health, rather than racism… though oppression against racism could cause mental health problems. Because rude, normal people suck. “We are loonies and we are proud! Say it! We are loonies, and we are proud!”

“We are loonies, and we are proud! We are loonies, and we are proud!” The patients and Y/N chanted with him.

“Now! Any questions?” Campbell asked.

“Aye. Can I go to the toilet?” Billy asked.

Away you go.” Campbell dismissed him, “Any other questions?”

“Where is this flatbed lorry coming from?” Alistair asked.

“That's a detail we haven't worked out yet, but we're working on it.” Campbell admitted.

“So, who's bringing this massive P.A. then?” Margaret said.

“Well, that's another detail that we've not sorted out yet.” He replied.

“What exactly have you sorted out so far?” Alistair asked, annoyed.

“Well, Sandy in the kitchen's been saving us some tins to rattle.” Campbell muttered.

The patients then muttered unhappily as they left.

“Aw, come on! Have some faith!” Campbell whined.

Campbell leaned back on a table in dejection. Y/N went to his side, leaning against him, comfortingly as she placed a hand on his sternum, gently.

“We can still rattle the tins.” She said, encouragingly, he didn’t say anything, he just rested his floppy-haired head on her shoulder and she ruffled his hair but when she stopped he let out a whined and buried his head into the crook of her neck as she scratched his head, comfortingly as Rosalie was still over by the window making a list.

--

Campbell couldn’t sleep, he was too sad and lonely despite having several roommates. He kicked his covers off like a toddler when staggered down the hallway to Y/N’s personal dormitory as per requested by her refusing basic needs like sleep, food, and water, and he opened the door to find Y/N reading How To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. She looked up to see Campbell smiling warmly, reassuring her when he saw the fear and nervousness in her eyes which eased softly.

“I just… couldn’t sleep. I’m depressed.” He frowned.

She gave him a gentle smile and ushered him over, he got under the covers next to her but kept his distance, noting that they had never done this before and Y/N was jumpy with men.

Silence as she continued to read, “What… are you reading?” He asked, awkwardly.

“How To Kill a Mockingbird.”

“Never read it.”

“Too dark for your internal sunshine.” She said, ruffling his hair. "I usually perfer audiobooks but... I've learned to be cautious about hearing headphones when everyone else is asleep."

“Favorite character?”

“Boo Radley. He’s likely autistic. Misunderstood yet with a gold heart like us.” She said and rested her head against his shoulder and Campbell hesitantly wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she started to read to him be before she dozed off in his arms. He smiled down at her and he turned off her light and kissed the top of her head.

Around midnight, Rosalie entered the boy’s dormitory before finding that Campbell wasn’t there, so she went to Y/N’s personal dormitory as per requested and opened the door to find the two “strictly” friends sleeping next to each other. Or rather, full-on cuddling with Y/N’s head on his shoulder and him with his arms wrapped around her.

“Campbell! Y/N? Are you awake?” She asked in a whisper, neither answered so she turned on Y/N bedside lamp.

Campbell finally woke and reacted to the light, “Jesus! What did you do that for?”

Y/N groaned and pulled the covers over her head, hugging herself into Campbell’s chest, making him let out a gasp and squirming slightly before turning back to Rosalie.

“I wanted to know if you two were awake.” Rosalie said and Y/N groaned from under the covers, saying that she was going back to sleep and no one was going to stop her from doing so.

“Aye, well, I am now.” He sighed, annoyed, he huffed and shifted like, why am I awake, “What do you want?”

“I've been making some lists, Campbell.” She said.

“You're always making lists.” Campbell pointed out like, why do I have to be awake now as Rosalie sat in a chair next to the bed.

“But these ones are for you.” She said and handed the lists over to the sleep-deprived boy from her purse.

"Road haulage companies in the greater Glasgow area." He read and then dryly remarked, unaware that Y/N had gone stock still, “All right, well, thanks, Rosalie, I'm sure I'll find this very useful.”

Y/N suddenly moved urgently, making Campbell jump, scared he had done something wrong. She threw the covers off her, giving Campbell the chance to look down at her nightgown that said, “not crazy, just misunderstood”, his lips twitched into a small smirk of amusement before she spoke.

“Road haulage companies are bound to have flatbed lorries in their fleet! I bet someone'll loan us one, it is for charity.” Y/N said.

Rosalie handed him another paper as he realized what this all meant, “And that's a list of P.A. hire and sales companies; could have some luck there. And this is a list of local merchants who might donate prizes for your Loony Pools. You can recruit most of your non-loonies from the staff, although you'll have to be dead careful, because some of the staff aren't exactly certified…” She had a twirly loony gestured at her head, “non-loonies.

“So not Stuart… or Eddie.” Y/N said. “I could call some of my cousins that live in Edinburgh. They’re all normal, studying abroad.”

“Aye. This is a list of staff bulletin boards in the hospital—" Rosalie continued.

It can be done! You've cracked it, Rosalie!” Campbell said, enthusiastically and he went to shake her hand when she flinched and he remembered, “Oh, sorry.”

“Listen, you couldn't... do something for me, could you?” Rosalie requested.

“Aye, anything!” Campbell said as Y/N placed her chin on his shoulder to look over it as Rosalie handed him a parcel of ugly clothes.

“Listen, you couldn't just put this in your locker and then forget about it?”

“What's in it?”

“Some new clothes Jim brought me.” Rosalie replied.

“Why do you want to put that in my locker?” Campbell said.

“Ugh, this is the most hideous dress I have ever seen.” Y/N said, crinkling her nose at it.

“So I could pretend I lost them. Then I wouldn't have to wear them.”

“You don't want to wear them, don't wear them!”

“Well, Jim says I can't go home unless I wear them.” Rosalie explained and Y/N just flopped onto her back.

“Men.” She scoffed and Campbell gave her an offended look.

“And they want to give me drugs so I can't keep me head straight and defend myself from the germs. I'm down to me last bottle of Dettol but Jim won't let me buy any more, and the doctor says—"

“Now don't let them push you around, Rosalie. Stand up to them.” Campbell encouraged her and Y/N muttered something, sardonically.

“How?”

“You just say…” Campbell then spoke in a bad American accent that vaguely resembled a Brooklyn accent, "‘I'm not gonna take any more o' dis crapola’."

Y/N turned her head to look at him oddly as Rosalie shook her head, “I couldn't do that.”

“How no?”

“I'm not American.” Rosalie pointed out.

“Aye, but it sounds that brilliant when they say it in the films.” He said and Y/N laughed, “‘I'm not gonna take any more o' dis crapola’."

"I'm not going to take any more of this... crapola." Rosalie repeated in her normal voice.

“Uh... you're gonna have to work on the accent.” Campbell said.

“"I'm not gonna take any more of... dis... crapola." She repeated, slowly and awkwardly in an even worst accent. Then she giggled and covered her mouth with her hands as if she had done something scandalous.

Campbell laughed as Y/N rose herself back to having her chin back on Campbell’s shoulder, “That's the spirit!”

“What am I going to do with these clothes?” Rosalie asked.

“Chuck 'em. Burn 'em.” Campbell dismissed.

“Oh, I couldn't do that, Robbie.” Rosalie said and Y/N frowned. Who was Robbie.

“Well, give them to Mad John the Pyromaniac, he'll take care of them.” Campbell said before realizing something, “Did you just call me Robbie?”

Rosalie hurriedly rubbed her hands with Dettoll, “Maybe I'll just put them under my mattress.” She gathered her stuff and then left.

"Right, well, that was a thing." Campbell deadpanned.

“That was odd.” Y/N said.

“Okay, sleepy time.” Campbell said and turned off the light and pulled Y/N into him playfully, making her giggle slightly which warmed his heart.

They couldn’t go back to sleep for a while as Campbell traced circles in her shoulder before he asked, “What do you think you’ll do after you leave?”

“I don’t know. Write? I like to write. Maybe I could be your DJ manager.”

“Yeah, I’ll add it to my list of things to do next to lose my virginity.” He said before hesitantly asking, “are you still a virgin? Not that I want to take it but… I'm not saying that I wouldn't, I mean I would, no! What I mean...”

“No.” She cut him off.

“What?”

“No, I’m not a virgin.” She said and snuggled into the pillow, ending the conversation.

--

A few days later, Campbell and Y/N were on the air, “Just to remind you that tomorrow, Saint Jude's Hospital Radio Roadshow is going to roll into Open Day, and we need your help to raise money for a new mixer. Without it, hospital radio will soon sound like this.” Silence. Rosalie and Francine looked at him and Y/N in confusion and he smiled meaningfully at them as Y/N giggled into his shoulder, “So! Come along and show your friends, your relations, and the local community that we are loonies, and we are proud!”

Campbell put on Don't Let Me Down as Eddie entered.

“Jesus, what's all this?” Eddie asked.

“You're late.” Rosalie scolded him.

“Sorry, I was working.” Eddie said as Campbell and Y/N pulled their headphones off to watch in amusement.

“Ah, well, here's your list. And you better get started or you'll never get through it.

"Go to car. Put key in ignition. Drive to Hot Jam P.A. hire." Eddie read the thorough instructions.

“There's your address.” Rosalie said, handing him a card.

"Collect speakers. Put in car. Drive back. Take key from ignition." Eddie continued to read.

“Rosalie's nothing if not thorough.” Campbell laughed and Y/N joined in.

“Francine, isn't that banner ready yet?” Rosalie demanded.

“Just finished! And then I have to help Fergus cord the leads.” Francine told her.

“Just give me a minute.” Fergus said which set off Rosalie again.

“A minute? You're only halfway down your list and it's nearly eight o'clock.” She snapped at Fergus and then turned to Eddie, “And you. Well, don't stand there like a dead sheep, go to your car.” Then she rounded on Campbell and Y/N, “And what are you two doing?!”

“I'm in the middle of my show!” Campbell whined and then took Y/N’s hand like he couldn’t do it without having a “manic episode” without her and then gave Rosalie a pouty look.

“Okay, but hurry up!” Rosalie said as Isabel entered.

“Rosalie?”

“Can you not see I am busy?” She snapped at her.

“Your husband's just arrived.” Isabel informed her.

“Tell him to screw off!” Y/N called but was ignored.

“Doctor Cairns can see you now.” Isabel said.

“I'll be there in a minute. I can't stop long.” She said and then she left with Isabel.

“What was that?” Eddie laughed.

“Power corrupts, but absolute power corrupts every loony.” Campbell teased.

“Kind of men in power.” Y/N smirked, cheekily. “It’s the need for control.”

“She organize all this?”

“Aye! By tomorrow night, this hospital isnae gonna know what hit it. And by Monday morning, the Loony Pools is going to be all over every newspaper in Glasgow, paving the way to our career in professional radio! Fergus faxed the press releases this morning.” Campbell said, idealistically and optimistically.

“Aye. Well, just don't be too disappointed if the press don't show up, okay?” Eddie warned.

Campbell’s smile faltered, “What do you mean?”

“It's just that there's nothing all that newsworthy about a bunch of loonies staging a stunt at an Open Day.” Eddie said.

“But it's Mental Health Week.” Campbell said.

“Well, I gave up smoking on National No Smoking Day, but they didnae put my name in the paper.” Eddie pointed out.

Campbell slumped, now disheartened again.

“Good job, Eddie. You made him sad.” Y/N snapped and she took Campbell’s hand.

Eddie sighed, “I better get these speakers. Listen, Campbell.” Campbell looked up at him with a surly expression and Eddie turned back to him, “If we just raise enough money to buy a cheap, nasty secondhand mixer to keep the station going, that'll be enough for me.”

“Ah, well, that's your trouble, Eddie. You aim low every time.” Campbell said, sourly.

“Aye, but I reach my goals.” He said and then left.

“They’ll show up. Even I called some.” Y/N told him, “Hey,” she cupped his cheek and turned his head to look at her, stroking his cheek with her thumb, “trust me?”

He smiled, still somewhat disheartened but believing in her, “Yeah, I trust you.”

--

Campbell and Fergus and the others carried in speakers, “I've got it, Fergus. The day's entertainment is reaching its climax. The last two contestants mount the stage. The audience mark their coupons; they hand them in. When suddenly, a swarm of photographers surge forward, because it turns out that one of the contestants was none other than—Spike Milligan! The greatest manic-depressive of our time!

“Spike Milligan?” Fergus said.

“Seven out of ten folk will probably think he's a patient! What a news story, eh? What a scoop!” He said, enthusiastically.

“There's only two things wrong with that, Campbell. First, how are you going to get Spike Milligan to appear in your Loony Pools for tomorrow afternoon?”

“Y/N.” Campbell pointed at the H/C-haired girl.

“Uh, a pal of mine's girlfriend's sister went to university with his grandson—” Y/N said, vaguely, avoiding eye contact.

“—Second, everybody knows what he looks like.” Eddie said.

“Good point. We'll need to disguise him.” Campbell said when Rosalie entered wearing just a hideous dress that Jim hadn’t been appreciative of at all as she rubbed her hands with Dettol. “What are you doing wearing that horrible dress?”

“What's going on?” She asked as she set the bottle down on the edge of the table where a speaker is sitting.

“These are the speakers you sent for.

“You can't bring these in here yet I haven't cleaned them! Take them out!” She complained.

“We're going, we're going...” Eddie said and he picked up a speaker and knocked over her bottle of Dettol.

Rosalie gasped, staring in horror as the tension intensified. “It's gone.”

“...I'll get a mop.” Francine said, leaving to do so as Rosalie started to panic.

“That was my last bottle!”

“It's okay, it's okay...” Campbell reassured her.

“What am I going to do? There's germs. There's germs!” She cried.

“Shh, it's okay, Eddie's going to get you some more from the late-night shop.” Y/N reassured her.

“Where's the late-night shop?”

“Fergus'll show you.”

“Uh, I've escaped twice today already.” Fergus protested and Y/N turned to glare at him.

“Germs... kill! And they're everywhere!” Rosalie cried.

“Look, do you want them to come and sedate her? Go!” Campbell hissed and Fergus left with Eddie to get her some more Dettol.

“I’ll pay you back!” Y/N called after them.

“Germs. Kill. Do you not understand? Germs. Kill.” Rosalie panted before going to sit down,“Robbie got sick. Jim said I wasn't washing the lettuce properly. So I washed it and washed it. But he was still sick. Jim said it was 'cause the floors was dirty. So I washed them and washed them. But Robbie stayed sick. Jim said it was the drains, the toilet, the sinks, the dirty washing. The cutting board and the kitchen knives! I made lists of all the places the germs could be. I washed everything! But no. Robbie stayed sick.” Rosalie held back her tears as her voice waivered, “Until he died. I never managed to kill all those germs...”

The death of her son combined with the rage of her husband, who blamed her because he couldn’t blame his son.

“What did he die of?” Campbell asked, gently.

“...Leukemia.”

“Oh, Rosalie...” Campbell said, softly while Y/N knew that this wasn’t the time to bring up that Leukemia was caused by genetics, not germs. It was likely the complusion and intense anxiet had already set in by the time they found out.

“Jim worshipped that lad. He hasn't been the same since.” Rosalie mourned, staring into the distance.

“Trauma can change people. It changed me.” Y/N confessed in a small voice.

 Isabel then came in, “Y/N, your cousins are here.”

She tensed and hesitated before leaving without a word. Campbell stood up, watching her leave, slightly concerned.

--

On opening day, “That’s a lot of people.” Campbell worried, looking out at the crowd.

“Cams, you’ll be great.” Y/N encouraged him.

“By the way, did you call my dad?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged one shoulder, “so you can prove him wrong.”

“Why wouldn’t you consult me first?”

“I didn’t know how’d you react?”

“Not only are there hundreds of people but my road sweeper father, Y/N, I don’t think I can…”

Y/N suddenly stepped closer to him and raised herself on her toes, making his voice die as her lips teased him by getting close to his then pulling away. “I believe in you, Cammie. I’ve always believed in you.”

“Good luck kiss?” He breathed.

She moved to his ear and whispered, “We’ll see.” She started to pull away which made him whine before she turned back and pecked him on the lips and ran off, leaving him blushing like a schoolboy with a stupid look on his face.

--

Day Tripper played as Campbell spoke into the microphone, “This is for all you day-trippers out there who came to find out what it's like to be loony for a day. So if you've just arrived, get on your straitjacket, plug yourself into the nearest electrical socket, and get on down!”

“Not bad for a looney, huh?” Y/N told Campbell’s father.

“I thought you didn’t speak.” He said, as respectful as ever.

“Your son was going to give up because of you so I spoke up and told him what an ass you are. You’re selfish, inconsiderate, and miserable with your life so you take it out on the son who didn’t turn out like you wanted but guess what manic-depressive disorder is eighty percent genetic and more likely passed down from the father's side of the family than the mother’s, just because there's no known family members of your family doesn't mean there weren't any, you prideful ass. It can also be triggered by stress, emotional abuse, neglect, being bullied, loneliness, isolation, pressure, you know all those you put upon him so he’s a disappointment to you because you’re a disappointment to him in terms of parenting. He can’t turn it off like a switch and it is not an act. So, get your head out of your ass before he gets another manic attack and kills himself because of it.”

She smiled, psychopathically and then walked off, leaving him in stunned silence that she would speak to him like that, and she joined the others as Rosalie was reading out requests.

“Big Girls Don't Cry, The Four Seasons. All Kinds of Everything—”

Eddie had been trying to find the requested records, “You're going too fast!”

“You're just finding too slow.” Rosalie hissed.

“Let me help. What else is there?” Y/N asked.

“Polly.”

“What?” Y/N asked, suddenly so alarmed that her entire body flinched with fear, unaware of the man who had been taking pictures of her was watching but not taking pictures.

“Polly by Nirvana.” She repeated the request that unnerved Y/n when Campbell started talking again and one of her cousins hurried over to her, noticing her cousin’s alarm.

“Yes, it's time again to separate the loonies from the boring folk, so get ready to mark your X, boys and girls, because if you are one of our lucky winners today, you may walk out of here with one of our fabulous prizes! Which, if you happen to be on a Section 26, means somebody'll come and bring you right back again. You could win a teddy bear, a dancing Coke can, a bottle of cheap sherry, a fruitcake, or a week's supply of cat food. We wanted to give away a color telly and a portable Jacuzzi, but they wouldnae trust us with anything electrical.” He chuckled.

Y/N and her cousin were having a whisper conversation, it was heated like an argument but wasn’t an argument, more of her cousin reassuring her of something when Hector grabbed her arm, making her jerk away into her cousin’s arms who held onto her protectively, looking at Hector as if trying to see if she should beat him down.

“Sorry. Y/N, Mark’s not here.”

Rosalie materialized next to them, “What?”

“He's supposed to be contestant twenty-two, but they discharged him this morning!” Hector warned.

“You'll have to take his place, then.” Rosalie said.

“No, I couldnae!” Hector denied, fearfully.

“You're right. They'd know straightaway you was one of the loonies.

“Rosalie!” Y/N scolded, “where’s your husband? He’d qualify as a looney. What kind of husband doesn’t show up to support his wife?”

“Ladies and gentlemen, loonies and loonettes—” Campbell continued, “Please welcome our next pair of contestants, numbers twenty-one and twenty-two on your coupon.

“Fergus, get up there.” Rosalie said, going to the shy electrician.

“What?”

“I said, get up there! Now, Fergus.” She said and put the “22” lanyard around his neck, then went to Hector as Y/N and her cousin went up to Campbell to inform him.

“Cam, uh, Mark got discharged but we’re replacing him with a very grumpy-looking Fergus.”

He smiled gratefully at her for the update and spoke into the microphone, “Can you spot the loonies, day trippers? Have a good wee look while I play you this dedication from all the folk on Ward 11 to all the nice residents of the surrounding community.” Campbell said and played Lazy Sunday. Y/N and her cousin went to leave but he grabbed on to her forearm gently and he quickly kissed her on the cheek and then giggled because of the excitement, being able to do that gave him.

She rose herself on her toe and kissed his nose, making him giggle again before sitting back down.

Y/N and her cousin went to rejoin the others, “He’s cute.” Her cousin said, “He your boyfriend?”

“Uh…”

“More importantly, is he a good guy. So soon after…” Her voice trailed off.

“He’s nothing like him. Campbell's like a walking ray of sunshine.” Y/N reassured her.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." Y/n said, softly.

They joined as Francine did, “Rosalie! That bastard caretaker just said we have to unplug our gear at four o'clock. Everything's plugged intae the power point in his wee room and he's going to unplug us so as he can lock up. 

“Oh, perfect, that's just perfect.” Eddie scoffed, annoyed.

“All right, Hector. You spilled them, so you can file them back.” Rosalie said.

“What about the requests?” Francine asked.

“Okay, everybody, no more requests between the letters A and H, you got that? Eddie, go and get us some electric.”

“What?!”

“Try the offices, try the ward. Here's a list of all the power supplies in the hospital. Now go!” Rosalie said, giving him a list.

“How does it have to be me?” Eddie whined.

“You think they're going to give their electricity to a loony? You've got five minutes.” Rosalie said.

“My show's about'ae start!” Eddie complained.

“There's not going to be a show without electric! Now go!” Then she snatched a collection tin from Francine and handed it to Eddie, “Bribe them if you need to.”

“C/N (Cousin's Name), go with him. Eddie, this is my cousin, now go!” Y/N pushed her cousin to leave with him.

“But who's gonna take his show?” Francine asked.

"Francine, this is your big moment." Rosalie told her.

"...Oh no!” Francine stressed and Y/N went to calm her down as Rosalie talked to Margaret

“I'm no gonna take the show! I'm not ready! Make Y/N do it.

“I’m a contestant! I’m number’s coming up.” Y/N protested.

Then Evylyn showed up with a woman they've never met, “Rosalie, I've got someone here I'd like you to meet.

“You're gonna have to wait your turn!”

“Does it look like we’re available to talk, Nazi-ette!?” Y/N shouted at her, “Mental patients are more capable and competent and compassionate than you are!”

Rosalie turned back to Margaret, “You see those stalls over there? There's a list of every stall and what they're selling. Go. Away you go and buy a fruitcake.”

“Rosalie! Are you listening to me?!” Francine shouted before Fergus came up to lead her away before she broke into hysterics.

“Well, that's just about all from me this afternoon—”

“Does I come before L or does L come before I?” Hector wondered.

“Dude, I don’t know, I have the mentally sing the alphabet in my head each time I open a dictionary!” Y/N complained.

“I comes before L.” Rosalie said.

“Rosalie, she's—” Evelyn tired again but was interrupted by Campbell running over to them.

“What happened to Eddie… and C/N?”

“They’ve gone in to find us some electric with. If he doesn't find it in the next two minutes, the caretaker's pulling the plug.”

“Th-they can't do this! Y/N and I haven't been a contestant in the Loony Pools yet!” He complained.

“But I can see the audience, Fergus!” Francine cried.

“You'll be fine.” He reassured her.

“Does S come before T?” Hector asked.

“Could you two help him with his alphabet?” Rosalie asked and Campbell and Y/N went to Hector.

The Caretaker arrived, looking like a grade-a douchebag, “Right! Your time's up! I'm locking up now!”

“If you pull that plug, you are pulling the plug on my whole career!” Campbell shouted at him, pointing at him but the caretaker was unmoved, “It's Open Day, for Christ's sake!”

“Don’t you dare crush his dreams! I’ll crush you!” Y/N shouted at the caretaker but he was still unmoved and unintimidated.

“Just another day for me, girlie.” The caretaker said.

Y/N lunched to attack him but Campbell pulled her back, helped with Y/n's cousin ran up, grabbing her cousin around the middle.

“Yeah, underestimating her isn’t a good idea.” C/N said, “Also calling her ‘girlie’.”

“We’ve got it. We've got it.” Eddie shouted and he swapped the plug into the power point they brought.

Campbell and Y/N went back to help Hector with the sorting again, “If "The" is the first word, should it no go into the Ts?

“The’s don’t count!” Y/N said to Hector as Campbell frustrated and annoyed, took the record out of his hand.

“Don’t blame him, Cams. He can’t help it.” Y/N scolded and gently bonked him on the head with a record.

“Y/N, GET UP ON STAGE! YOU’RE NEXT!” Rosalie screamed and Y/n and C/N ran up t  the stage putting on their twenty-three and twenty-four markers.

“Hello! This is the Fabulous Francine. And it's time once again for the Loony Pools!

“So, get ready to mark your X for the second to last time as I give you contestants number twenty-three and twenty-four. This is Y/N L/N and C/N C/L/N, can you spot the loony?”

Y/N and her cousin were evenly tied in the round as Eddie made his way to his grandmother. “You decided to come.”

“Nope! I’m the loony!” Y/N called and then bowed in a silly manner before straightening back up, making her hair flip through the air.

“She’s a cute lass, the one with the h/c.” Eddie’s grandmother said.

Eddie gave her a look of horror, “Grandma, she’s eighteen.”

“Above the legal age.”

“She’s kind of with Campbell.” Eddie said as Y/N helped put Campbell’s marker on of twenty-five and cupping his cheek.

“Get ready to mark your X for the last time as I give you contestants number twenty-five and twenty-six.” Francine said.

“She is nice lassie.” Eddie’s grandmother said, referring to Francine.

“For the final time, can you spot the loony?”

“How you don't ask her for date?” She asked Eddie.

“She's the one I was telling you about, the new DJ I'm training.” Eddie told her.

“She doesnae look crazy!” Eddie’s grandmother gasped.

“Do I know that guy?” Eddie asked, referring to contestant twenty-six.

“Can we have one without the glasses, Mr. Milligan?” A photographer asked.

“Curse! I knew the disguise wouldn't work!” Spike Milligan said, taking off the sunglasses.

“Try acting loonier.” Campbell said in fake sotto.

“What? For that I want money!” Spike Milligan teased and the audience and Campbell laughed as Y/N got on stage and hugged Spike Milligan, “you’re lucky, my granddaughter-in-law likes you so much.

“What!?” Campbell exclaimed.

“Do you mind being asked to play "Spot the Loony", Mr. Milligan?” A photographer asked.

“No. No. I do not mind being asked to play Spot the Loony. But…” Spike Milligan said in a slow, silly voice before dropping the voice, “I object to being called Spot!”

“She did it! The wee bastard got Spike Milligan!” Eddie beamed.

When they took the picture of the “Looneys”, Y/N cupped Campbell’s cheeks and pulled him in for a passionate kiss, shocking him until his hands went loosely to her hips as he kissed back. This was going to be their first kiss forever.

--

That night Campbell laid in Y/N’s bed as they shared lazy kisses, smiling like idiots.

“So, does this mean we’re together?” He asked.

“If… if you want.” She said, shyly.

“Oh my god, yes.” He said, kissing her.

“My… my trauma doesn’t scare you?” She asked.

“Does mine?”

“Mine’s… different, Cam. I…”

“Shh, shh, you don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to.” He whispered, stroking her cheek, “we can just kiss.”

She gave him a smile and kissed him.

--

A few days later, they were in the studio while Fergus was out getting the newspaper.

“I'd like to thank all of you who turned out to support the team for Open Day on Saturday. And having raised a grand total of six-hundred-and-forty-three pounds and sixty-seven pence, plus an anonymous donation of five hundred pounds,” Eddie said into the microphone and Campbell fist bumped goofily and then gave Y/N a peck, having become very affectionate towards her since they started dating despite never having gone on a real date due to them being busy from the station and being patients in a mental institution, “from somebody with a lot of musical taste, we are still in business!”

Outside the studio, the patients applauded as the intro to the next song started, “I think you all deserve a big hand.”

Campbell took Y/N hands and swayed with her to the music before Fergus entered and he turned to him, excitedly, “Well?”

“We're in.” Fergus smiled.

“YES!” Campbell shouted, jumping up and down before grabbing Y/N’s hands and making her jump with him.

Fergus laid down the newspapers, “Daily Record, Evening Times, The Herald...”

Campbell picked up on and read the headline, proudly, “;Just a Pair of Loony Goons’!”

"‘Spike Milligan with Campbell Bain and Y/N L/N of Saint Jude's Hospital Radio’!” Eddie read.

“We've done it! We're on our way!” Campbell cheered as Y/N kissed his cheek before he turned his head and kissed her.

“Campbell, you are a genius.” Eddie said, ignoring this display.

“Genius? “ He turned to Rosalie as he threw the paper down, “She's the genius. Rosalie, we're on our way!” He excitedly went to hug Rosalie but she drew back and Campbell remembered and pulled back as well, “sorry.”

Rosalie debated with herself, mentally before pulling off one of her gloves and holding her hand out to Campbell as the others watched with interest before Campbell cautiously took Rosalie’s hand, shaking it.

Campbell delightedly then raked back his floppy hair and started dancing as Y/N, Francine, and Fergus joined in.

Y/N took over after Eddie and talked about a phone her cousin had given her to call in requests.

“Hey, what’s your request?” Y/N asked, cheerfully, high on the happiness Campbell positively exuded.

“Polly by Nirvana.” Said a low, whispery voice that chilled Y/N to her bones. “Did you get my letter, Polly?”

Y/N’s face paled and she suddenly bolted out of the studio, so Campbell took over.

--

After the show, Campbell entered Y/N’s room to find her sitting on her bed, staring at an open parcel  when he walked over and he saw it was a copy of the newspaper with them on it, in red ink—or what she hoped happened to be some odd red ink that was somehow both dark and bright—was her face circled with Campbell's eyes crossed out and his face scribbled on. Above her circle said: I gotcha, babe. See you soon, Polly.

"Y/N/N, what's wrong?" Campbell asked, “Tell me what’s wrong? You sent you that?”

“He found me, Cam.” She cried, burying her face into his shoulder as he hugged her, protectively.

#the eccedentiast #campbell bain #takin' over the asylum #david tennant characters #Campbell Bain x Reader #Mention of Toxic Ex #Stalking #Spike Milligan #I don't know who Spike Milligan is #Toxic Ex #Polly by Nirvana #Polly is a dark song about a true story #young david tennant #Takin' Over the Asylum #The Eccedentiast #Campbell Bain #Youung David Tennant #Auburn David Tennant #Manic Depressant Campbell Bain #Bipolar Campbell Bain #Manic Depression #Pre-Doctor Who David Tennant #Sweet Jane #Implied Non-Scottish Reader #Selective Mutism #PTSD Reader #Traumatized Reader #Reader is wary of men #Schizophrenic Furgus #Psychogenic Mute Reader

[angry-kid-with-no-money]

Welcome to the WIP Wednesday game! I'd like to request newsies college/uni au please

Dear God, why was Jack still here? "Can I help you find something?”

“Nah- wait actually. Do you know where the iced coffee is?”

David stared at him for a moment before pointing to the shelf directly in front of him. Clearly this man had not been cursed with the same levels of social anxiety as David as he just laughed and grabbed a few cans.

“I swear stuff just materialises in front of me as soon as I ask someone. See you next summer yeah?” And then Jack Kelly was gone leaving nothing behind but the faint smell of his cologne and the yogurt he’d put back in the wrong place. Like a dick. David sighed, then checked the time on his phone and sighed again even harder. Two hours left and then he could go home.

#i've called this a college au but david is still in high school in every signle scene i've posted so far #rip #david jacobs #jack kelly #i've given him a job in a grocery store bc i thought it'd be funny and also bc i hate my job #moving on #newsies #newsies college au #ask #wip wednesday #edited for clarity and spelling and also bc i did not say ty for the ask or for the welcome so: thank u auburn

[devious-little-milkmaiden]

The existence of Doctor Who in the Good Omens universe implies one of two things:

a) Crowley occasionally dyes his hair brown and dons his stage name of David Tennant to pick up some parts whenever he feels like it (I mean, honestly--The Internet's Principal Scottish DILF would be a temptation of MYTH) because he likes playing wacky little characters and can pass it off as a form of temptation whenever Hell starts sniffing around, or,

b) There happens to be a Scottish actor named David Tennant who shares an exact likeness with Crowley, save for the red hair and snake eyes. Crowley gets told that he looks and sounds like David Tennant a lot and is quite tired of hearing about this bloke. Aziraphale thinks it's funny.

If we're going with Route B, imagine that since Aziraphale is well aware of who David Tennant is (since he likes bugging Crowley about it so much) and also because he is a lifelong Shakespeare fan, some time in 2013 he finds a recording by the Royal Shakespeare Company of Richard II, starring David Tennant as the lead role. He's super giddy about this and calls Crowley to ask if he wants to watch it with him on his television or antique projector or whatever a Southern pansy like Aziraphale would have. Aziraphale can't help but mention that David Tennant is playing the lead role and at the mention of Tennant's name Crowley rolls his eyes (Aziraphale can sense it through the phone) and tells him to enjoy it by himself. Aziraphale is giggling as he hangs up.

So Aziraphale puts on the play and can barely contain his excitement, though he is a little disappointed that it doesn't look exactly how it did when he saw the first showing all those years ago, but what can you expect? He conjures up a bowl of grapes, for old time's sake. He starts cackling when a long, auburn-haired David Tennant finally appears. He looks so much like Crowley that Aziraphale nearly phones him again, but decides against it--he doesn't want to miss a thing.

Aziraphale finishes his bowl of grapes some time near the end of Act II--most of the excitement has worn off and he's now just sitting and enjoying the play. Act III starts, scenes one and two carry out, and then it comes to scene three. Aziraphale's giddiness returns, because this contains one of his favorite speeches. "Northumberland comes back from Bolingbroke," The Duke of Aumerle says, and Aziraphale hasn't realized he's scooted to the end of his armchair. He gives a little "wahoo!" as Richard II starts into his monologue.

And then, as Richard is consoling the Duke of Aumerle, something unexpected happens:

Aziraphale never mentions the play again.

#good omens #richard ii #doctor who #crowley #aziraphale #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #tenth doctor #david tennant #aziracrow

[multi-fandom-imagine]

A/n: I have been meaning to do this, put it off for way too long.

PT 1

|| Superhero Related ||

Dc / Marvel / Gen V

bodyworshipping the DC Boys- @angelltheninth

Imagine Jordan switching from their delicate fem form fingers to their thick long masculine fingers- @poppy-metal

Jordan Li Hc / Blurb- @lavend3r-stardust

Sex with Jordan- @inklore

Jordan Li smut- @poppy-metal

Bucky Barnes Smut- @angelltheninth

Surprise || Jordan Li Smut || - @ebonyenvy

Imagine giving Jordan Li a lap dance - @poppy-metal

Venom Smut- @val-made-a-mistake

Gorgeous || Older Damian Wayne || - @youwerenevermeanttofeelalone

Auburn Traditions || Older Damian Wayne ||- @glorified-red

Help me! help you || Dick Grayson Smut ||- @tetzoro

Dick Grayson smut- @lustingbones

Batboys as things that go bump in the night- @chikaras-garden

Public sex / sex pollen || Dick Grayson ||- @uc1wa

𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 || Damian Wayne ||- @thesuperiorrobin

Nights like these || Jordan Li ||- @inklore

Jordan Li smut blurb- @poppy-metal

Take the reins || Venom smut ||- @val-made-a-mistake

Venom fucking the reader- @randomoutsiders

let me help you || tasm!peter parker x reader ||- @the-plum-soldier

Spell Gone Wrong || John Constantine || - @c-nstantine

imagine bunny!reader with wolverine- @inkdrinkerworld

|| Anime / Animated show's and movies ||

|| Gaming ||

Astarion Getting Aroused by Your Blood- @angelltheninth

Duskwood boys: their favorite way to pick up/carry you around- @hacked-by-jake

Duskwood boys:Reaction to you calling them babe. - @hacked-by-jake

How they’d be with pregnant reader: Headcanons with Lin Kuei brothers- @seraphmeraph

Web of faith || Kar'niss ||- @hrefna-the-raven

mk1 men breaking the bed/headboard while fucking you- @visionsofmagic

mk1 men when they get hard in public because of you- @visionsofmagic

car sex - johnny silverhand- @buryustogether

|| Live Action show's and Movie's ||

Pyramid Head Chases You Down and Fills You Up- @angelltheninth

Michael Afton when You're Pregnant- @angelltheninth

Infertile elder yautja- @mintymarabell

corio x reader but he has an insane breeding and lactation kink- @slvthrs

Corio with a breeding kink- @slvthrs

Corio blurbs- @lucilleslore

cockwarming Corio- @lucilleslore

Possessive Bernard the elf with a pregnant human!Reader - @herbalsingularitea

Sleepless Nights { spencer reid smut }- @strawbeerossi

Distance (David Rossi x Ex!Reader)- @villain-apolog1st

Lunch Break (David Rossi x Reader)- @villain-apolog1st

Beefy Bucky- @buckyalpine

James Wilson x reader- @pomegranateshrimp

Every Single Day ( Spencer Reid fluff ) - @astrophileous

All I Need ( Spencer Reid )- @incognit0slut

how dilf!jake gives his girl head- @pearlsinmyhair

house boys + how they kiss you- @cyberstrm

Peeta with a breeding kink- @peetaslefttoe

Mike Schmidt smut- @redskull199987

#fics #fic rec #masterlist #dc #marvel #gen v #reader inserts #duskwood #astarion #balur's gate 3

[soberscientistlife]

12-year-old child left home on a freezing night without cellphone or their mother's permission. + Police from Auburn, MA, searched the area without luck. So, K9 officer David Ljunggren and his dog Biza were called to help. + Biza picked up a scent and tracked it for over two miles. Biza and David quickly found and returned the missing child home safe.

We don't deserve dogs. This Dogo did a great job finding the two lost boys!!!

[20th-century-railroading]

A handsome Boston & Albany 2-8-4 steams eastbound as she works upgrade at Auburn, Massachusetts (Webster Junction) in March, 1947. David Bartlett photo.

#b&a #boston & albany #1947 #trains #freight train #history #auburn #massachusetts

[neonovember]

Bourbon Decision’s

Steve Rogers mafia!au

summary: In light of your reappearance in New York, Steve makes a decision that begins the road to the relationship between you both. And you, begin to remember some familiar faces.

warnings; mentions of death, murder, angst and violence

a/n: so, this chapter gave us a little bit of a back story on how the reader ends ups in Brooklyn, and who her husband truly is. Your girl is a fighter! More parts coming soon…

The cursive lettering burns a hole through your chest, the edges cracked and plastered as you shove accusation down into your pocket. It almost feels poisonous, like simply touching it will make him come around the corner, reminding you that you would never be alone, that you were never going to escape him.

You’re able to hide your shaking hands from Caroline, who takes your silence as simple exhaustion, you fill ill, the bile rises from your throat and you pinch your arm to stop yourself from gagging.

You’re able to conceal your emotions well, your entire life and marriage has been holding up a mask, it was a dance that was all you knew, and all you would ever thank him for.

“You alright there sugar” Caroline looks towards you, eyes filled with concern and she takes notice of your wobbly legs. She reaches with a hand to steady you, but you ignore it, holding onto the granite counter, forcing your downturn eyes to look up at Caroline, you straighten your back.

“Yep, fine, I just need to use the restroom” You reply catatonically, a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes has Caroline looking at you even more strangely.

You turn down the hall, passing David, his auburn black bun bopping to the tunes chirping out of a beaten-up purple stereo he gaggled a 17-year-old in exchange for a pack of Marlboros.

The smells of bacon grease and butter that causes the insatiable monster taking camp in your stomach to growl now has you running into the staff bathroom, the door slamming behind you as you dry heave the entire contents of your breakfast.

Wiping the spit falling from your mouth you turn on the tap, scrubbing your face clean and running a wet hand across your hair. The reflection staring back at you looks nothing like the woman just mere hours ago, a woman who thought she had escaped the biggest tormentor in her life, a woman who thought she was finally free. This woman, the one whose eye bags now seem deeper than before, whose skin looks dull and pulled across her body like skin on bone is bound and shackled by the haunted past that never seemed to wretch its fingers off of her.

Each time she thinks she has a chance at life, the chain wrapped around her neck tightens, and it pulls her back until she's dislocated and bruised. It shakes her violently and spits in her face, laughing and cackling, staring down at her in disgust because how could she have been so stupid? So foolishly naive?

You don't escape men like her husband, you just end up dead.

An overwhelming desire engulfs you, the need to survive and flee fills you strong, and for a second you glance at the back door that leads to the alleyway hidden from the main road. You've got enough cash on you to skip town, maybe hunker down in a dingy yellow motel for a bit until you feel

But what's the point? There was no plan B for what you did, your escape itself was a fucking plan B, and your head is still pounding from the success of it. You had gotten lucky, for the first time in your life, you had gotten lucky. You wouldn't get this chance again, this was it for you. Skipping town would do nothing, but prolong the inevitable, there were no steps ahead with the men you knew, at least let you die with your dignity.

You can't help but laugh at your stupidity, it racks through your body and has you bent over, gripping your stomach, before your shoulder shudders with cracked sobs, a hand muffles your wails as you run the tap, the last you wanted was for adiora to hear you.

You were just so exhausted your body weighed down with the fatigue and stress of your escape, the bruises and injuries you've accumulated over the years that never fully healed took a toll on you. You'd never gone a day without seeing how your body would look without the yellows and purples colliding, some ragged and large while others were small and deliberate. It made you walk funny, your manager had asked if it was a limp, if you'd be able to waitress with all the walking it included, you rushed to tell her it was nothing, just a fall that didn't heal right.

You needed this job, and youd do anything to get it

Caroline had told you you could get benefits for it, to help with rent and supplies, you smiled and told her you'd look into it, you didn't think it would be appropriate to tell her it was years of abuse.

Could the government pay you for that? Or would you be met with an officer at your door ready to drag you back to your husband because of course he had the governor on speed dial and the NYPD in his front pocket?

A tiny bubble of anger begins to set place in your chest, how dare he? He didn't even want you, the nights he’d bring home countless women told you enough. Why did he so adamantly want you then? Keep you chained and locked in the palm of his hand? 

You've seen the other marriages in this line of work which were much like yours, transactional and strictly business. Except most of them had an agreement, you have yours and I have mine. Show up like you both are in love, clutching onto each other and keeping your lovers to the side.

Not him though, no, he wanted it all, you think he craved the power it gave him, to see you at his feet below him, your escape was the one time you felt like you had gotten him beat. You knew it wouldn't last long but damn did it feel good.

That man with golden hair looked at you so strangely, like he knew you from long ago, you'd shaken the sense of familiarity from your mind before it even began. This was New York, not Washington, no one knew you here. You were just a face, like any other, so why did he look at you like the sight of you broke him? 

The fact of the matter was, your husband was an unstable lunatic who fed off the fear of others, he’d probably shot a few women who even slightly resembled you during the time since your escape, so why didn't that man drag you out of the diner and into one of your husband-marked vehicles? 

There was only one explanation, one you couldn't bring yourself to entertain, but it still remained in the back of your mind, next to the hopes and dreams you had for yourself at 13. 

The sounds of your name being screeched from the counter can be heard echoing towards you, the diner was horribly understaffed and don’t doubt that there is a mountain of things that needed to be completed since your meltdown.

You need this job, you were not about to lose it.

So just like the years you have been trained, you shove the impending emotions down your stomach, straighten your back, and practice your smile before slamming the staff door behind you.

It’s well past 11 when you finally finish cleaning up after the last of the patrons that exited the diner, the moon was cloaked behind deep grey clouds, providing little light to your walk home. David had offered you a ride, but you had declined quickly, the thoughts circling your mind would be too loud for a car ride. You didn't like walking home, especially this late at night, but you had no choice. You would not want to incapacitate someone else's day, especially now with a target on your back.

The flickering street lights provide a tiny sliver of direction to the beaten path cracked with concrete and dirt. A loud truck filled with men slowed as they neared you, you kept your head down, fingers pressed into your palm as you tried to avoid any confrontation. They screamed obscenities, before zooming past you, the smell of burnt tire lingering behind them.

There was a shortcut to your apartment complex, though the back alleyways were hidden from the main street, and you made a sharp turn to follow the insecure path through the suburban houses. It doesn't take long before you notice the unmarked car following shortly behind you, just a few streets back, enough to not look conspicuous but still get a clear view of you.

You tense, unsure of what to do, you push your house keys between your fingers, silently praying to god that it wasn't him. And it seems that god is on your side today, as the car pulls into a dark street, leaving you breathless and releasing your grip on your keys.

You don't waste any time running the rest of the way until the dingy apartment complex comes into view, your neighbour, a sweet middle-aged lady whose smile never quite reached her eyes and who let you use her gas was screaming at her son, a cigarette hanging from his mouth in open shock.

You smiled to yourself as you passed them, he looked towards you with raised eyebrows, pleading for some support. You weren't about to tell her how to raise her kid, she looked even more exhausted than you.

Jimming the door handle a couple times, you finally shoulder your way into the safety of your small but safe apartment. The soft caramel walls were chipped away at the edges, and the wallpaper was peeling but it was home. It was the closest thing to something that was yours, and only yours. 

You quickly made yourself some time, to help calm the storm beginning to write inside your mind again, you hated coffee, it left you jittering and cold and you just wanted to sleep at this point.

After jumping into the shower, your waitressing clothes left sweaty and seeped with oil in the basket you finally found the solace of your cold bed. You invested good money into a solid mattress and covers, and it payed of by the softness and ease that engulfed you. 

You reached for the book left on the side table, its spine broken in and countless stains and markings left on its pages. You had never gotten the chance to read, you'd been told it was a useless waste of time that could instead be used for more important things.

Now though, with the threat of your safety looming around the corner, you felt you needed to finish every book you started, in fear you mightn't ever again.

Your mind, however, was running 50 miles an hour and it so happened to find him, golden boy, again. He looked so different from the henchmen of your husband. They were all short and stoic, egregious muscles bursting through tight shirts, fingers dirty with blood and sin. They all had that hungry insatiable expression, like rapid dogs, they salivated every time they were given a task, to murder, to steal, to torture. 

One particular night, when you left down the hall to the section of the house you weren't permitted to enter, the blood-curdling screams and moans followed by their laughter had you bolting out, they heard you anyway, and your husband had forced you to watch.

You just needed scissors.

This man though, his eyes shone with a different kind of darkness. One possibly more intricate and deeper than the sleazy men near your husband, and, it should have scared you. But it didn't, it pulled you closer like you wanted to dip your foot in and see how far it went. The sense of familiar you'd refused to feel filled you once again, a part of your mind was screaming at you, itching and shoving its fingers between bordered wood to get you to see.

Shaking your head you flicked to the dog-eared page, one thing you knew about the world you were married into, was all the men were obsessed with one thing, power and money, and they'd do anything to get it.

All of them.

The brown liquid sloshes against the ice as steve raises it to his lips, finishing it with one gulp. The familiar burn of liquor eases the tension in his shoulder, as he leans against the mahogany desk, hands folded against his chest.

“All I’m saying is that we have to act fast and we have to act now, every day that passes is another risk to the dominion, he's getting more and more erratic by the day” Sam murmurs, sitting on the plush velvet coach situated to the left of the expansive office, the high ceiling lights cast a glow across the room that does little to ease the tension.

Steve rubs his jaw, scratching at the stubble that has begun to grow, he's gotten so busy that he'd forgotten to shave. Steve’s mind is scattered, bits and pieces here and there, Sam was right, Matthews was getting even more unstable than he ever was, killing mercilessly without a second thought, leaving finger prints and blood and bodies. Sooner or later, he’d get the entire underworld exposed if he kept up with this.

“I know, I know, I just- I need to think” Steve begins, before Bucky interrupts quickly, his eyes roam Steve, squinting as he notices something off.

“It’s different this time, Matthews, it’s more than just his greed and psychotic tendencies, he’s lost something. And I have a feeling you know exactly what it is”. Bucky replies, eyebrows raising and he looks towards Steve.

Sam looks up rapidly, a grim look on his features as he takes in Steves silence

“Steve…what is it?” Sam replies, Steve was apprehensive to reply, eyes shutting for a few minutes, mind racking over the moments before, when he found you. Selfishly, in a way, he wanted to keep you hidden, a secret only he knew, but Sam and Bucky knew him long enough where they’d eventually find out.

“You know Matthews wife” Steve begins, Sam and Bucky lean in closer as they take in Steves tighten jaw and deep seated anger behind his eyes. Steve was a man of decorum, he’d rarely show his true anger, always hidden behind canine smiles and wolf like hunger, he was precise and meticulous with his rage. It’s what made him so powerful.

“The girl from your home town?, The quite one right?” Sam replies, confusion covering his features as he tries to connect the picture Steve was sewing in front of them.

His cracks as he remembers you, before Matthews and before he stamped out the light that always shone through your eyes, the oblivious innocence you carried that seemed to suck him in and ruin him for anybody else.

“Yeah, yeah, that one” Steve coughs before straightening his back 

“Poor girl, I heard she didn’t even get a say, just woke up one morning with his claws in her. I haven't seen her in any of the charity fundraisers in a long time” Bucky says, hands running through his jet black hair as he recalls your frequent absence. It was strange, most men would flaunt their wives anytime they’d get the chance, especially one as gorgeous as you. Not Matthews though, he acted as if you were invisible, a burden, like a mother running after her petulant child. As if he wasn't the one that gave you no choice but to marry him.

“She's gone” Steve spits out, his golden locks fall to his face as he quickly pushes them behind his ear, no one else knew of your absence, besides your husband and him, you were still behind the shadows of his wrath. Now the shoe had dropped and it was real, you’d really gone and done it, you’d escaped him.

“What do you mean Steve, your telling me that girl escaped one of the ruthless mob bosses in Northern America? The one with all the guns and men and fucked up morality? The one who’s murdered teenagers?” Sam emphasis in open shock, moving to get up from the sofa and walk closer to Steve.

“I dont know when, I don’t even know how, but she got out” Steve says, a sudden urge to see you again fills him, he shakes it away quickly before it consumes him whole and ruins him.

“Holy shit, she really did it. She’s got some fucking balls” Bucky says, eyes widening as he comes to terms with the fact that you may not have been as innocent as they once thought.

“But, if shes out...she knows what will happen to her now? As much as I hate Matthews, he brought her immunity and protection, especially one from a family like hers, now-, now she’s a walking target.” Sam says it was inevitable, the mafia world wouldnt allow for such treachery, for such betrayal.

“Open fucking season” Bucky continues, eyes strained behind Steve towards the frosted window of the office. The planes of concrete fields stretch endlessly, the smoke of vehicles and Nee Yorks smoking problem floating through the deep grey clouds.

What was your endgame?

The question circles Bucky’s mind, he was always searching for an answer, a causation, and right now you had him stumped. Funny.

Steve nods, nocking his leather dress shoes against each other, loyalty ran thicker than blood in this world of theirs, and what you had committed was worse their murder.

“She disappears I know, trust me I do, probably ends up at the bottom of the Hudson at best, and at worst..” Steve says

He didn’t need to continue for them both to understand. Eyes failing to wince as they had grown use to the brutality of the mafia.

“But, I talked to her, earlier today, down by Brooklyn” Steve begins to say before both Bucky and Steve interrupt him quickly

“You talked to her?! Jesus, Steve, this has got to be a fucking joke, because I know the man infront of me. And he would be as insane as to talk to a mafia’s wife, let alone the king of the dominion. Hell, even being near her would count as a death wish” Bucky replies, eyebrows furrowed as the shock of Steve’s recklessness hung in the air.

“We can’t afford an attack right now, especially one from someone as psychotic as him and his lunatics” Sam reiterates, unsure what had gotten into their usually calculated and cunning friend.

“Listen dammit”, Steve grumbles, hands flying around him

“If I get her to share some information about Matthews in return for safety, we’ll be able to get ahead, plan an attack before he even registers she’s back in New York”

“Back, she was here before?” Sam questions, confusion filling his usual stoic features

“She was here a couple years back, something happened, bad, and since it’s Matthews you know it had to have been some extraordinarily catastrophic shit” Steve murmurs, eyes far away as if he’s mind was back all those years. His fist tighten involuntarily, and he quickly reminds himself to relax before they take notice of his sudden anger.

“No one knows what happened, not Santiago, not even Brock. All we know is that he changed after that, became way worse. Before, at least he could keep a handle on it, after what happened though, it’s like he’s wishing for a reason to rage”. Steve continues, Bucky and Sam nod following him, they had all noticed the shift in Matthews behaviour, even more drastic then, the entire underworld whispered behind masks and glistens of pistols about the mafia don and his mental breakdown.

“Your asking her to commit treason then?” Sam quakes, hand pressing into the deep wood of the chair.

“She already did when she walked out that door, you don’t just make a decision like that, no, not for someone like her. She probably stayed in that decision for days, if not weeks. She knows the risks she took.” Steve informs, arms crossing against his chest, he knew you weren’t as stupid as people thought you were, in fact he knew you better than most people ever would.

You were similar to him in that way, cunning in ways people didn’t realise, always hidden beneath false naivety.

“Well, you sure he’s still out looking for her? How do you know he isn’t pointing a fucking laser at your head right now?” Bucky begins eyes strained to the window again as if looking out for any incoming steel bullets.

Steve remains silent as he hums to himself, a pen between his fingers as he jots down your address on a haphazard note pad.

“Because she would have already been dead by now” He says finally, underlining the street name twice, before clicking it back into the desk drawer. Sam laughs, a hand coming to rest at his chest, the under suit creases at his ministrations and it reminds Steve that he needs to buy one that actually looks good on him.

“You’re one insane mother fucker Steve, I’ll give you that” Sam chuckles at the casualness of the blond’s demeanour.

Steve shoots a smile, a real one, his canines glint and for a second, it’s as if a wolf has taken it’s place over his features. The rosy reds of his cheeks contrast against the sand gold of his hair and suddenly Steve looks younger. Like the cruelty and immorality of the world around him hasn’t taken his soul and left a gaping black hole.

“That’s how we win, it starts with her” Steve replies with finality, his voice refusing any negotiation or persuasion.

It was final, Steve set his eyes on you, and he wouldn’t stop until he got exactly what he wanted.

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[rumbelleshowdown]

-

Author: LikeASparkInTheDark

Group: B

Prompts: Theft, rose, “how long?!” Pillowfort. Turn the tables.

-

Operation Rose

This must have been a dream of some sort, a twisted dream meant to torment him.

“Miss French, what are you doing here?” Marcus Gold asked, surprised that she was at his door.

“Though I would love to chat in this downpour, may I come in Mr. Gold?!” She shouted over the thunder that was booming above.

He sputtered a moment, he had forgotten the storm, he had forgotten how to breathe.

Belle French was standing at his door, in the rain, her auburn curls flaying in the wind, her skirt dangerously close to flying up and revealing her knickers, and her baby pink blouse, just short of soaking wet.

“Come in,” he muttered, opening the door further and moving out of her way.

Belle rushed into his house, as he shut the door, she whirled on Marcus pointing a finger in his face, “How dare you have your grandson steal from my library just to get my attention! You’ve had it! You’ve always had it! But sometimes you’re an ass!”

Marcus’ lips parted and he tried to follow the breadcrumbs that she had just scattered around him, to figure out what on earth she was talking about.

He really tried to focus on his words, but he couldn’t not with her shirt starting to become more and more sheer.

“A moment, please.” He held up a finger before she could protest, and left the room.

He walked into the living room where Henry was peeking up at him from the pillow fort they had made. 

“Who's that Grandpa?” He asked, his innocent nine year old face looking up at him.

“It’s Miss French,” Marcus answered idly before grabbing a blanket from where it was draped over the fort, “I’m taking your south wall.” He murmured.

“That was my weapons armory.” Henry corrected, “Since you’re taking that can you turn the tables?” He asked Marcus giving him a pleading look that Neal would pull as a child to get his way.

Marcus huffed a laugh before turning the coffee tables on their sides to replace the wall he stole.

“Thanks Grandpa!” Henry called as Marcus began walking back to where he had left Belle.

“Here,” he wrapped the blanket around her, “now, please, what were you accusing me of?” 

Belle looked at him ruefully, her lips pursed, “Thank you,” 

He nodded, and waited.

She looked a little less sure of herself, nibbling her lower lip, “I had said you shouldn’t encourage Henry to steal, and that if you wanted my attention you already had it.”

“Miss French, why would I encourage my young grandson to steal something from you, encouraging theft, to gain your attention?” He tried to stifle the laughter in his voice.

“If he stole something you’d have to return it one way or another or go to jail.” She stated matter of factly crossing her arms under the blanket.

He shook his head in amusement, “Henry, come in here please!” 

A moment later Henry bounded into the entryway, freezing when he saw Belle, “Hi Belle,” his voice was soft, giving her a little wave.

She smiled at him, as his grandfather crouched beside him, getting down to Henry’s eye level.

“Henry, Miss French is looking for something that’s gone missing, something from the library, do you happen to know what she’s looking for?”  

Henry looked around the room, avoiding his gaze, “I might know.” 

Marcus’ eyes widened at his grandson, “Did you happen to take what is missing?”

Henry looked down at his feet, “I might have.”

Marcus looked past Henry to Belle, who was looking at them with a soft look.

“Now Henry,” Marcus started, “why don’t you go get that for Miss French? Otherwise she could charge someone with theft, and since I’m the oldest, I’d be the one going to jail.”

“With Grandpa David and mom?” Henry’s amusement painted his expression.

Marcus faltered for a moment, as Belle’s laughter filled the kitchen, “Some would consider being locked with their in-laws a type of jail.” she chimed in.

“Well Henry, the least amount of time I’m in jail or with your other grandfather would be best, please go get whatever it is you’ve taken from Miss French.” 

Henry at least had the decency to look sheepish as he quickly left the room, Belle and Marcus could hear him running up the stairs.

Belle couldn’t keep the grin from her face, “You don’t want to spend time with your daughter in law or David?”

Marcus sneered at Belle from his kneeling position, he leaned on his cane as he rose from the floor, “As for the second point of your accusation, I already had your attention? How so?” 

Belle bit her lower lip for a moment before starting to answer, but Henry’s return had her gaze shifting from Mr. Gold’s face, to Henry who was holding a book that had previously been on display.

“Henry, you realize at the library you can borrow the books, you don’t have to steal them.” Marcus sighed.

“I know that, but this one I couldn’t borrow.” Henry thrust the book into Marcus’ waiting hand; it was an older book, an antique, something he was surprised he didn’t have in his shop.

“You have this in the library where children’s sticky hands can befoul it?” He raised his gaze to Belle.

“It’s in a cabinet!” Belle snapped.

“Then how did Henry get it?” He smirked.

Belle’s face contorted in annoyance, but Marcus turned his attention back to Henry, “Henry,” he looked to his grandson, “Why did you steal Miss French’s book?”

“It’s part of Operation Rose, I knew that it was a special book and Belle would have to come find it.” Henry shrugged, his logic seemingly unbendable.

“What’s Operation Rose?” Marcus and Belle asked in unison.

“I can’t tell you, yet.” Henry crossed his arms, stoically. .

Marcus glanced from Henry to Belle, “Henry, you know stealing is wrong, don’t you?”

“Yes, and I’m sorry I stole, I won’t do it again.” He promised, his face earnest.

“Good lad, now please leave me and Miss French to talk.” Marcus nodded his head towards the living room.

Henry gave Belle an apologetic look before going back to the fort he and Marcus had made.

Marcus’ gaze flickered to Belle, who was standing there looking at him, her cheeks blooming peonies, unfurling into the smile that she was giving him despite herself.

“Mr. Gold, may I have my book please?” She asked.

“How long?” He asked, his voice soft, as he took a step closer to her, carefully placing the book on the entry table.

“I’m sorry?” Her brow furrowed.

“How long have I had your attention?” He asked, taking another step towards her.

Her blush deepened, and she stammered, “I would like my book Mr. Gold.”

He moved closer, until he was squared in front of her, “Miss French, how long?” His voice was low, firm, and warm, a melody against the beating rain on the roof.

She flattened her lips, trying to hide her growing smile, “Do you want the exact moment, or would an estimate suffice?” Her blue eyes gleamed in the light up at him.

“Ladies choice.” 

She bit her lower lip, “Since I found out you bought all the baked goods from the library fundraiser. You’re the reason I was able to open it, the reason I was able to fulfill my dream, and you wouldn’t come forward for the praise.”

It was his turn to blush, he remembered having to coordinate Jefferson picking up and delivering practically a bakery’s worth of goods after seeing Belle French looking so forlorn at the lackluster response to all her efforts of throwing the bake sale. 

“Why did you do it?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, her lips parting ever so tenderly, her sapphire gaze searching his face.

“Because I didn’t think of having my grandson steal an antique book from you to get your attention.” 

Belle laughed, “Is that what Operation Rose is?” She raised an eyebrow.

He huffed a laugh shaking his head from side to side, “I actually don’t know.”

Belle took a small step closer to Marcus, “How about, we go ask Henry, and see if the mission is complete?”

Marcus’ mouth quirked up in a half smile, “Well Miss French, for a mission to be successful, we would need evidence that it was completed.”

Belle’s lips parted on a soft exhale, before reaching up with the blanket and resting her hands on his shoulders, she leaned into him, stopping just before her lips pressed against his, “What kind of evidence?” she murmured. 

His gaze flickered over her as he reached up and cupped her face, tenderly tracing her bottom lip with his thumb, the pad catching the gentle swell, before pressing his lips to hers.

Belle wrapped her arms around Marcus, deepening their kiss.

Henry grinned watching from the doorway from the living room, his arms pumping in victory, Operation Rose was a success.

-

#rumbelle showdown #round one fic #author: LikeASparkInTheDark

[off-the-heezys]

@jaspvid-week Day 3: Mythology/Stories/Fables

this piece was literally the death of me but you guys know i had to do my statue au for one of these days

its when!! when david comes to life!! no more statue!!

i wrote about this au for a class assignment, and I wont bore you with the entire thing but i'll give you guys the ending bit where this happens (click keep reading)

The sun poured into the room through the window, shining on his face. He had fallen asleep at the foot of his statue.

He talked to it last night. Well, more so mumbled abstract thoughts. Prayers that developed into pleads. Messy kisses painted along the cool, smooth marble. He longed for it to be warm, and for it to move under his touch.

He was lonely. God, he was so lonely.

He felt drunk. He hadn’t had a lick of alcohol and yet he felt out of it. The rain outside didn’t help. His mind was buzzing. Until it eventually lulled him to sleep.

His joints popped and cracked quietly as he stretched, reaching out for his statue. He remembered he had rested his hand over the foot of his statue, something about knowing it was there helped him sleep.

The only problem was he couldn’t feel it anymore.

A couple pats around and he feels a hand over his. A warm hand. His eyes fling open and he flinches, not expecting that. His eyes immediately land on a face in front of his.

Fair skin. Auburn hair. Green eyes.

Oh, my God.

The figure smiles.

“Good morning.”

David.

It was David.

His statue David.

He blinks a couple times. He had to be dreaming. There was no way this was happening. Just mear hours ago he was stiff, cold marble. He remembers very distinctly how cold it felt.

But it stood right in front of him. He. He stood right in front of him. He wasn’t an it anymore. David was never an it. His sharp features he has painstakingly carved out were there. Plain as day. Clear as day? Ah, who cares.

He rubs his eyes just to make sure what was happening was happening, and then realized David was politely waiting for a response.

“Oh.”

His voice sounded unnatural.

“Hi.”

David tilted his head, a charming smile making his eyes squint a little. It made his heart flutter.

“Did you sleep well?” David asked. He sat up, sitting in a more comfortable position, but never breaking eye contact with his David.

“Yeah.” His joints were saying otherwise, but he could bear it. Almost ignore it.

He noticed David was wearing a big cloth over himself. The cloth he usually placed on top of him when leaving the home or going to bed.

He hesitantly lifted his hand up and reached over, cupping the other man's face.

Warm.

It was warm.

Like the sun had come down and kissed his skin.

David leaned into the touch, and he wanted to weep.

“You’re so beautiful,” the phrase spilled out of his mouth. David huffed out a small, pleasant laugh.

“What is your name?”

“What?”

Oh, yes. He had never said his name out loud in front of his statue. He felt bad, as if the statue could’ve heard him the entire time it was being built. Could it?

“Oh. Jasper. My name is Jasper,” he responded. His own name sounded foreign to him, he rarely ever said it.

The other man smiled, bringing his hand up to place over Jaspers.

“What a handsome name.”

Jasper's breath felt knocked out of him. It took him a moment to compose himself the best he could.

The heavens had blessed him. Listened to his prayers and granted his wishes.

#camp camp #campcamp #cc david #cc jasper #jaspvid #jaspvidweek2023 #oh my boys #this drawing #oh my god #i had an entire like #scene sketched out #and it looked great #and then i started lining it and everything went down hill from there #ccart

[gryfflepuffinthetardis]

Sweet Jane -- Campbell Bain x Reader Masterlist

Warning: Mental Health, Traumatized Reader, Suicide, Mention of Sexual Assault, Parent Abuse, Neglectful Parents, Verbally Abusive Parents, Stalking, Unhealthy Past Relationships, In-Universe Misconceptions of Mental Heath by Neurotypicals/Normals, Judgy Neurotypicals/Normals

Campbell Bain x Reader from 1994's BBC Mini-Series "Takin' Over the Asylum", can be considered David Tennant's first breakout role at 22 years old.

Notes: Fan Fic Written by a Neurodivergent (ADHD, Depression, Anxiety, Ambiguous Dyslexia and possibly more) and therefore, a looney. 😉😁

Below is the YouTube Playlist to Takin' Over the Asylum I'm watching when I'm editing the chapters I had done for Wattpad, I prefer ones with subtitles because Scottish accents are, as beautiful as I find them and I'm usually indifferent to accents, rather thick and hard to understand especially because Campbell Bain speaks very fast, it's helpful for there to be subtitles.

Sweet Jane: Hey Jude

I'll Stand By You - Sweet Jane: Fly Like an Eagle

The Man Who Sold the World - Sweet Jane: You Always Hurt the One You Love

Every Breathe You Take - Sweet Jane: Fool on the Hill -- (Warning: Suicide, Major Character Death, Manipulative Therapist, Manipulative Ex, Sociopathic Ex, Stalking)

Creep - Sweet Jane: Rainy Night in Georgia -- (Warning: Mature — Mentions and Descriptions of underaged rape (mid to late teens) and descriptions of stalking. but I’m not sure if this counts as explicit.)

True Colors - Sweet Jane: Let It Be

Drunk In Love (Six Months After the Events of Sweet Jane)

Winter Sounds (Seven/Eight Months after the Events of Sweet Jane)

Jetlagged (Eight Months after the Events of Sweet Jane)

Hyperactive Little Rascal – Campbell Bain

(To be Continued)

More Notes: Campbell and the Reader are in my head, similar to Andy Dwyer and April Ludgate's relationship. The older man (though in this case by one year) is basically a hyperactive ball of sunshine and optimism and the younger woman is all dark and cynical, doesn't speak often yet when she does it's rarely helpful and usually sarcastic and deadpan--Black Cat, if you will (Meaning, "a human who acts like a real black cat--moody, mysterious, usually introverted/reserved/antisocial but knows how to fight" and possibly may give off the vibe that they would kill anyone who messes with the people they love..

#Takin' Over the Asylum #Takin' Over the Asylum: Hey Jude #Takin' Over the Asylum Episode One #The Eccedentiast #Campbell Bain x Reader #Campbell Bain #Youung David Tennant #Auburn David Tennant #Manic Depressant Campbell Bain #Bipolar Campbell Bain #Manic Depression #Pre-Doctor Who David Tennant #Sweet Jane #Implied Non-Scottish Reader #Selective Mutism #PTSD Reader #Traumatized Reader #Reader is wary of men #Schizophrenic Furgus #Psychogenic Mute Reader #Loving Campbell Bain #David Tennant's Expressive Eyes #David Tennant Characters #We are loonies and we are proud #OCD Rosalie #Takin' Over the Asylum Episode Two #Takin' Over the Asylum: Fly Like an Eagle #I'll Stand By You #Abusive Parent #Campbell''s Abusive Father