#soho writes stuff

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Summary:

Dick is suddenly very awake. He bolts upright, staring at the dimly lit figure. “Tim?”

“Hi, Dick,” Tim whispers. He isn’t in uniform for once, instead wearing a pair of sweats and a shirt that Dick recognizes as one of Bruce’s. Dick was wondering where that went.

“Jesus, kid,” Dick exhales, an uncertain mixture of disbelief and bafflement. “What are you doing here?” Tim and Dick are still in a fight of sorts, or are they? Have they made up yet, or is the terrain still cracked? Dick wants so badly to ask, but just having Tim in the same room as him is already more than Dick could have hoped he’d get.

The night’s patrol ended well over three hours ago. Dick has only been asleep for forty-five minutes. It’s one of the many, many drawbacks of inheriting the Batman mantle, right along with cowl sweat and sore throats. Being the head honcho entails all sorts of extra duties that Dick never had to worry about when he was Nightwing. Back in Blüdhaven, Dick could simply climb into his apartment through the fire escape window, strip off his sweaty uniform, and pass out on the mattress until noon the next morning. How he longs for those days now. Being a light sleeper is one of those parts of the job he’s carried with him from the beginning, which is why Dick shocks out of sleep the instant he hears his bedroom door creak. The penthouse’s acoustics aren’t anything like Wayne Manor’s. Every noise has Dick rousing from sleep, so unfamiliar to him. It’s nothing like the home Dick grew up in. Then again, nothing about his life now is as it was. The intrusion, even whilst half-asleep, prompts no alarm from Dick. Damian has been having troublesome nightmares ever since the encounter with Zsasz and some dead children a few weeks ago. Damian never admits to the dreams, but Dick knows they’ve been hard on him. While Damian would never confess to it in the light of day, frequent nights he’ll sleep in Dick’s bed when the nightmares get especially persistent. Dick never mentions it in daylight for the sake of preserving Damian’s white-knuckled pride. They’re still working on that. “Dami?” Dick mumbles, rolling over. “Y’okay?” He reaches out and fumbles for the bedside lamp, flicking the switch on the underside. He squints in the flood of light illuminating the small shape standing in the doorway—a shape that is definitely not Damian.

Dick is suddenly very awake. He bolts upright, staring at the dimly lit figure. “Tim?” “Hi, Dick,” Tim whispers. He isn’t in uniform for once, instead wearing a pair of sweats and a shirt that Dick recognizes as one of Bruce’s. Dick was wondering where that went. “Jesus, kid,” Dick exhales, an uncertain mixture of disbelief and bafflement. “What are you doing here?” Tim and Dick are still in a fight of sorts, or are they? Have they made up yet, or is the terrain still cracked? Dick wants so badly to ask, but just having Tim in the same room as him is already more than Dick could have hoped he’d get. Tim has been AWOL ever since the Black Lantern debacle came, ravaged, and went on its merry way. When the resurrections began, Tim had briefly returned to Gotham at Dick’s request, without a moment’s hesitation. Dick thought at the time that Tim would stick around at least a day or two after so many months abroad, all by himself. It’s what he would have done before. But by the time Alfred woke up to prepare breakfast the next morning, Tim was already gone—without a note, without a single goodbye. He didn’t even stay for Garth’s funeral. Dick foolishly thought that he and Tim had come to some unspoken understanding, some middle ground during the battle against their resurrected loved ones, their past regrets and mistakes whirling back to stare them in the face. Dick had hoped it was a start, but clearly it wasn’t. Clearly there’s no backtracking behind the line he crossed when he took Robin away from Tim. Dick tried to call Tim only once during his search, the day after Tim left Gotham. Straight to voicemail. Sometimes it was all Dick could do to keep from jumping on a plane and heading straight to wherever Tim was to drag him back home by the ear, just so Dick could sleep at night without having to wonder if Tim was safe, or if he was even still alive. Learning that Tim was fighting in Jason’s old Red Robin suit just escalated his fear. When Dick was Tim’s age, all he wanted was space. He sought to step out of Bruce’s shadow and find his own place in the world, and that’s precisely what he did. It’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re a teenager setting out into the world. Dick has been trying to give Tim that freedom, if nothing else. That is why the last person Dick expected to see tonight was Tim Drake in the Wayne penthouse, and not trekking across Europe like Dick thought he was. It’s more habit than anything when Dick does a quick scan, searching for any visible injuries on Tim that would have set him running home for help. There are none that he can see, but he doesn’t disregard the possibility yet. Even in the dim light, Dick can see that Tim’s eyes are bloodshot. He looks thinner than Dick remembers in the weeks they’ve been apart. Tim still hasn’t answered Dick’s question. “Is everything okay?” Dick tries, fighting to keep his voice neutral.

At first, Tim looks like he’s about to say something. Then he gives up, and instead he wordlessly crosses the floor and climbs into Dick’s bed. Dick goes completely still, like he’s trying not to frighten off a wild deer. Tim’s weight beside him is familiar but ghostly. So much and so little has changed. About both of them. Tim is shaking. “Hey. Hey, what’s wrong? What happened?” It’s another habit when Dick runs his fingers through Tim’s hair like he used to when Tim was younger. It’s grown out since then, past his ears and halfway down his neck. Dick has kept tabs on Tim’s adventures abroad the best he could, but it’s hard to detect changes beneath the full-body uniform and cowl. Maybe that was why Tim chose it in the first place. “Can I stay here tonight?” Tim asks, his eyes pleading in the lamplight. “Please?” Dick doesn’t know if Tim means here at the penthouse or here in Dick’s room. The answer would be yes either way. “Of course you can, kiddo. You don’t even have to ask.” Dick can’t remember the last time they did this, it’s been so long. Well before Bruce died—more towards Jack Drake’s death, probably. When Bruce took Dick and Tim on that year-long trip around the globe, it wasn’t uncommon for Tim to turn to Dick for comfort when he was plagued by dreams of razor boomerangs and his father’s blood on his hands.

Tim was smaller then, pocket-sized, but he’s grown since then. He’s grown a great deal over these past months alone. Dick wishes he could have been there to see it. How many more scars does Tim have now? How many will Dick never know the story about? He’s had more than enough time to accumulate a new tapestry of pain in the months since the night everything fell apart—since Tim left Gotham, maybe for good, and Dick wasn’t sure how many brothers he had left who still loved him. Dick pulls the covers back up, tucking them around Tim who’s settled onto the pillow beside Dick’s. They lie facing each other, the glow from the bedside lamp illuminating their faces and casting forlorn shadows on the wall. Dick should ask where Tim has been all this time, or why he chose now to return. How long has Tim been back in Gotham without telling anyone? Has he been eating enough? When was the last time he slept? Is he okay? Is he okay? Is he okay? “Do you need to talk?” Dick tries instead, at a loss for how to handle this. It used to be so easy with Tim. Half the time, Dick wouldn’t even have to pry; Tim willingly parceled out every worry, every insecurity, and every fear he had, trusting that Dick would keep them safe. They used to be brothers. “I miss Bruce.” Tim states it like a fact, which it is. Maybe even a universal one. Bruce is missed. Bruce will always be missed. Dick’s heart throbs with that familiar ache that resurfaces every time he hears Bruce’s name, or sees his face, or smells his cologne sticking to the fibers of Wayne Manor like his ghost has seared itself into the very walls. “Yeah,” Dick sighs. “Me too.” “I’m sorry,” Tim says, timidly meeting Dick’s eyes. “For leaving. For all of it.”

“It’s okay, Tim.” Of course Tim knows it’s okay. Of course he knows that there isn’t anything in the world he could do that wouldn’t be okay. As if Dick wouldn’t forgive him for murder. “I don’t hate you,” Tim continues, like he’s had the words queued up for a long time. “When I—the night I left. The things I said. I didn’t mean them.” Dick will never stop regretting that night. There were so many better ways he could have handled the situation. He just—he got overwhelmed, desperate. Jason was already a lost cause, and Damian lived on the edge of following him. Dick couldn’t lose Tim too. That night, Dick told Tim that Bruce wasn’t a god or an immortal legend, which was true. Bruce was just a man, and men die. There was no vestige of Bruce for Tim to rescue. It was supposed to be a comfort at the time—some small reassurance that their lives don’t have to revolve around following Bruce’s lead. That they’re allowed to breathe without him giving them the air. Unfortunately for himself, Dick knows better than to fall for his own fallacies: Bruce was never just a man to them. Even now, Dick can feel Bruce’s eyes on his back every time he puts on the cowl. Batman is bigger than all of them. “I’m sorry, too,” Dick says. It’s long overdue. “I thought you wanted space. I didn’t mean to run you off.” The angle of the lamplight on Tim’s face makes the shadows smudged under his eyes look even darker. “You were doing your best. I was being a dick.” The corner of Tim’s mouth lifts slightly at the pun. “You’re a good Batman. You’re doing better than any of us could.”

Then, because the words have weighed him down like rocks in his throat: “I shouldn’t have given Robin to Damian,” Dick says. “Not without asking.” He’s run it over in his head a million times. All the ways he could have done it better, could have kept Tim from leaving and kept Damian in check at the same time. It was just so hard picking up all the pieces Bruce left behind. Making Damian Robin was an easy fix—it kept Damian under Dick’s wing, gave him something of his own he could be proud of, and allowed Dick to teach him in a controlled environment. Tim just…he fell through the cracks. Dick didn’t stop to think about how Tim would take the news until it was too late. When Dick was Tim’s age, all he wanted was to go out and become his own man. He left Gotham and carved himself his own spot in the hero community with the Titans, and in turn, he experienced some of the best years of his life. Leaving Robin for Nightwing was a crucial turning point in Dick’s life—an inevitability that led him to discover who he was and where he was going. Baby birds all need to leave the nest eventually. Dick just wishes that Tim hadn’t jumped to die and had instead jumped to soar. “Did it help?” Dick ventures to ask. “Going out there?” He doesn’t ask if Tim found anything. He doesn’t ask if Tim’s impossible mission has borne any fruit. Dick won’t risk losing this tenuous ceasefire. Tim shrugs, his eyes fixed on an ancient chocolate syrup stain on Dick’s pillowcase. “Learned a lot. Did a lot.” Dick wants so badly to ask what a lot is supposed to mean. He wants to know what prompted Tim to come back. He wants to know if he’s allowed to get used to it, or if he needs to prepare himself for another swift departure. “But I missed home,” Tim says.

A risk: Dick reaches across the uncertainty between them to put his hand on Tim’s shoulder, smiling thinly. “I’m glad you came back.” “I’m still going to find him, Dick. I haven’t quit.” Tim swallows, meeting Dick’s eyes in the darkness. “I know you think I’m crazy. I should probably be mad at you for it, but I’m sick of losing people. I don’t want to do it anymore.” It’s a punch in the gut Dick knows he deserves. “I never thought you were crazy,” Dick offers, and it’s mostly the truth. “Not once.” Tim’s eyes have taken on a glassy sheen. He blinks in an effort to disrupt it. “I think…I think maybe I am crazy? Was. Might still be. I don’t know.” Tim closes his eyes, swallowing thickly. “I’m tired of running, Dick.” “Yeah. I know.” Dick squeezes Tim’s arm. “I really am glad to see you, Tim. It’s been lonely around here since you left.” Tim looks doubtful, his brows deprecatingly furrowed. “You have Damian now. You don’t need me.” The certainty in Tim’s voice breaks Dick’s heart. “I’m allowed to love more than one little brother at a time, you know. It’s not a very exclusive club. Even Jason qualifies sometimes if he’s behaving.” Tim doesn’t laugh, but he smiles softly. “I really missed you, Dick.” Dick ruffles Tim’s overgrown hair, presses a kiss to the side of his head. “Missed you too, kiddo.”

#this takes place right after tim returns to gotham during his search for bruce #i hate formatting stuff on tumblr so if the spacing's weird blame the copy/paste thing #soho writes stuff #dick grayson #nightwing #batman #tim drake #red robin #robin #batman and robin #batfamily #batfam #dc comics #fanfiction #fanfic

[sohoscribblers]

Sharing an educational article written by one of our more experienced Scribblers for any new or hopeful writers out there. This is the first in a series on POV

______

An Overview of Point of View in Writing

by @adeptdragonfruit54

What is point of view and why is it important?

Simply put, point of view is the lens through which you tell your story. It’s the voice of the story and your perspective character.  It’s important because the POV you tell the story from will impact the details available to your reader and the reliability of the narrator among other things. “No decision you make will impact the shape and texture of your story more than your choice of Point of View,” says editor Dave Lambert. Surprisingly, it can also be one of the trickier skills to master for a new or inexperienced writer. A common problem is an inconsistent POV. You don’t have to stick with a single POV throughout a story, but if you’re new to writing, sometimes it’s better to stick with one POV until you have a little more experience under your belt. Another problem I’ve seen is using an incorrect POV for the story being told.  I’ll give you an example of this once we dig into the different types of POV below. So, what are the different types of POV?

Primarily, there are three types of POV. We’ll start with a basic overview in this article and then go into each, in depth, in subsequent articles.

First Person POV:

First person POV uses personal pronouns like “I,” “me,” “we,” and “us.” Stories written in the first person are personal narratives where the protagonist is telling their story or a side character is telling the protagonist’s story. Ie. Suzanne Collins’s Hunger Games is written in with first person from the POV of the protagonist, Katniss Everdeen.

Finish Reading on AO3

#scribblers of soho #pov #first person pov #writing #writer stuff #writing community #writing how to #new writers corner #writing better

[andrewknightley]

I stoled this meme cause it was fun

#anyways i ddont hate a lady on fire but i thought it was boring i feel out of the lesbian cinema club #great soundtrack idk really i dont have a fav movie soundtrack #so i just put chicago cause it was the musical that made me like musicals #when i was tiny it activated my brain to a World #i dont really ave bad day cures movies for those moments i usually watch a new movie tbh but #barb and star go to vista del mar is just so great #i remember the plane scene talking about trish and i smile #is so funny #im ok with baby driver now but this was the first time wright dissapointed me greatly for how bad he writes women #but after watching soho i think he just is not very good at writing love interests #except danny but simon was there too #im one of the few people who find terminalthe funniest shit ever (is not a comedy) #also new followers might be surprised for m:i there but people who know me Know #talks and stuff

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Good Omens NYCC panel recap

   - Guests: Neil Gaiman, Douglas Mackinnon, Rob Wilkins, Maggie Service, Nina Sosanya and Guelin Sepulveda, it is said that Michael Sheen will join at the end over Zoom.

About Season 1

- What do they miss most when S1 wrapped and before S2:

Douglas: All the cast and all the crew. We were very big and cuddly family.

Neil: Yeah. 

Rob: David Tennant and Michael Sheen.

Nina: Missing the mentioned family and being part of the nuns sisterhood.

- At the beginning they shared several bts stories from season 1 and the book: 

First day of shooting in the bookshop was cancelled because of the blizzard and the second day they were foreced to shoot interiors because outside there were people with flamethrowers trying to melt what was there. So they build the set of Soho 2 inside.

Rob kept a lot of the vehicles from S1 and S2, all the motorbikes, the cars, and now I have topped it with Crowley’s Bentley.

A lot of nuns including Maggie had warts, but Nina didn’t want one.

Neil about Nina’s audition (read more here).

That both Michael and David both independently suggested that he might like to write a Good Omens stage play so they may swap roles each night.

About Michael originally being Crowley (more here and here).

About Terry and Neil being Aziraphale and Crowley - Neil: In the creation of Crowley Terry took the things that I did that he thought were hilarious, like wearing sunglasses indoors when I didn’t need to. He put a lot of me into Crowley but then we both put a lot of ourselves into both of them. (here, also this).

Michael Sheen is amazing mimic, Neil recalls that during one of the final scenes he had producer headphones on, the guys were acting and sitting on the bench and all of the sudden David Tennant started saying awful things about Michael Sheen, just, you know, there’s Crowley and Aziraphale talking and Crowley is saying all this stuff about how Aziraphale is fat Michael can’t act and all the stuff and I’m like ‘Whaat?! David is the nicest man in the world...’ and then the penny drops and it’s Michael sitting there doing pitch perfect as Crowley.

About Season 2

- What was like for Quelin to join the show:

She was a fan. The very first day was a bit like out of body experience, there was a scene where she interacted with David and Michael. So it was like, ‘Concentrate, Quelin, concentrate! It’s okay, it’s okay!’ And it was just overwhelming in the best of ways, honestly.

She plays angel Muriel. When Neil and John Finnemore talked about season 2, they realized that they didn't have another nice, well-meaning angels except for Aziraphale in Heaven, all they had were bastards, all awfull, so they thought ‘Let’s have a nice one’ and so they created angel Muriel, curious, gullible, well-meaning and chatty angel that spent 6000 filing in the same office in Heaven hoping that somebody would come in and the day would get more interesting and it doesn’t.  

She’s a 37th order scrivener, bottom of the pily, it’s her first time to Earth.

- They felt Terry’s presence also during filming S2.

- Douglas said that they started doing the ADR post production and that the difference between David and Michael is that David looks at the monitor and whatches what he’s done and Michael never watch, so now Michael saw himself for the first time and he was like a fan doing, ‘Oh look we’re back! And there’s Aziraphale!’.

- Neil about Maggie and Nina returning: 

It was a thing where one of the things I was very very certain before I started writing season 2 that there were two characters in it and I wanted them to be played by Maggie and Nina, so in order to make it clear to everybody reading the script, that they were going to be played by Maggie and Nina, I called the characters Maggie and Nina. Maggie and Nina liked being Maggie and Nina so the names stayed. 

Douglas joked that he thought that a bit lazy not to think up new names and it was hell on set. Later he jokes that since Muriel is an actual angel name, that Neil didn’t make that one either.

Maggie runs a record shop which is beside Aziraphale’s bookshop in Soho, Mr. Fell is her landlord, shop passed through the generations. Her shop looks across shop where Nina works.

Nina works in the independent coffeeshop Give Me Coffe or Give Me Death, she is good with dealing with people in Soho who come in, not afraid of dealing with them. Wears great cardigans. Her character is quite grumpy. There is a scene where at the start her love life is doomed and she is getting passive-agressive texts for Lindsay - Neil says writing the texts was some of the most fun they had  - maybe there will be a hope for her love life.

- About more characters:

Neil didn’t want to lose people because they are such a family and wanted Miranda Richardson back but Madame Tracy’s story had really finished and couldn’t think of more for here and her story had ended so beautifully so he wrote a new part for Miranda - she plays Shax, demon that was sent on Earth as the replacement of sacked Crowley.

Anna Maxwell Martin couldn’t make the filming (was in two shows and a stage play when they needed her), so Beelzebub is played by Shelley Conn. She demanded a lot more flies.

Donna Preston plays Mrs. Sandwich, and We’we never quite sure about Mrs. Sandwich’s profession but she’s definitely in Soho.

-When Neil started writing S2:

 In August 2019 he told Amazon and BBC at fancy breakfast, ‘This is the plot.’, and they said, ‘Oh, we like that plot.’ 

In December he and John Finnemore got together and Neil told him the plot and he said, ‘That is a good plot, but how does it end’ Neil said that he doesn’t have ends until he gets there but John needed one so Neil said, ‘How about this?’ and told him the end and John said, ‘That’s a good end.’ And that is the end we’ve got. 

He started writing it in the middle of the pandemic Summer 2020, writing with pencil to his notebook the first scene which is the first scene.

- Neil what will S2 be about:

Six episodes, each about 45 minutes.

There are some love stories in it.

We will learn a lot about Jane Austen we didn’t know before.

There is a lot more Heaven, a lot more Hell.

- What could be more eras for Aziraphale and Crowley

Douglas: 19th century Scotland, Neil: Edinburgh perhaps around 1827?, Douglas: That would be good, can you write that?, Neil: Oddly enough, episode 3 will take us to a little stint of body snatching in the era. For me it would be like 1941 and we’d go back to those Nazis. Douglas: That would be good and what about something biblical as well, could we do something? Neil: Bible’s good. Yeah back to biblical times, that would be really fun, we could do one of those in episode 2. (they are obviously talking about minisodes :))

- There was a clip from the show but only sound for those watching the stream. 

Listen here. 

Description from twitter ‘Crowley rushes into the bookshop holding plants and it’s so cute’.  

This pic should be from it :)

- Season 2 Release Date: Summer 2023

- At the end on the zoom dropped not on Michael but also David and Jon Hamm! :)

Watch here :), their banter was written by Neil, Staged-style.

Michael and David found out that there’s going to be S2 probably at the same time from Neil. There was always sort of hope after the end of S1 that there might be more story to tell. Jon found out about it from Neil during press for S1 as potentiality and then during covid Neil said an idea to Jon that we would start by walking down the street in Soho completely nude and he send me the beggining of the scene where Gabriel does not recogni- and the rest is deliberately cut with ‘Lost connection’, to the nude part Neil said, I knew that if he said yes to that he’d say yes to anything and then he says it is not actually there.

#good omens #gos2 #season 2 #new york comic con 2022 #nycc2022 #nycc 2022 #good omens nycc 2022 panel #neil gaiman #douglas mackinnon #rob wilkins #nina sosanya #maggie service #quelin sepulveda #michael sheen #david tennant #jon hamm #donna preston #shelley conn #miranda richardson #aziraphale #crowley #maggie #nina #gabriel #muriel #mrs sandwich #shacks #beelzebub #fun fact #bts

[yeahthatswhatimtolkienabout]

Okay so, I'm getting increasingly confused over the timeline of when Aziraphale and Crowley have met over the ages.

Since I'm writing a S3 fic with lots of flashbacks, I figured that I needed to have a concrete and canon timeline so I don't end up accidentally writing a meeting when there shouldn't be one (ie when Crowley was asleep in the 14th century), and I cannot for the life of me find one that has S2 in it so I present to you:

The Nice and Accurate (hopefully) Timeline of Aziraphale & Crowley and their many meetings throughout the ages.

By Yeahthatswhatimtolkienabout.

Pls let me know if I've missed anything.

Before time was invented - God created the universe.

Before the Beginning - Our dynamic duo meet for the first time, as Crowley creates a Nebula with Aziraphale's help.

After The Beginning (the bible never gave dates for this kinda thing) - Crowley saunters vaguely downwards towards hell with the others who are cast out.

4004 B.C. - Eve is tempted by the Demon Crowley (in snake form) to eat the forbidden fruit. This is the first time we see Crowley in his demon form and the first time he (as a demon) meets Aziraphale, well - that we know of anyway.

3004 B.C, Mesopotamia - OI SHEM! Aziraphale and Crowley meet and watch as Noah gathers the animals two by two onto the ark.

2500 B.C, Uz - Aziraphale and Crowley work together to save Job's children from being killed. Aziraphale lies to heaven and fears he will be taken to hell. Bildad the Shuite is a babe.

33 A.D., Golgotha - Aziraphale and Crowley witness the crucifixion of Jesus. Crowley remarks that he 'showed Jesus the kingdoms of Earth'.

41 A.D., Rome - Aziraphale tempts Crowley to Oysters.

537 A.D., the Kingdom of West Essex - Knight of the table round, Sir Aziraphale encounters Crowley as the Black Knight. This is where the 'deal' is first raised.

1301 A.D - 1400 A.D - Crowley sleeps through the 14th century.

1601 A.D The Globe Theatre, London - Aziraphale and Crowley meet at a production of Hamlet. They have been participating in the 'deal' for some time now.

1650 A.D - Aziraphale does the apology dance for the first time.

1793 A.D, Paris, France - Aziraphale is about to be beheaded, but Crowley intervenes and saves him.

1800 A.D Soho, London - Aziraphale opens his bookshop and Crowley successfully prevents him from returning to heaven at Gabriel's orders, by fooling him with some mannequins.

1827 A.D Edinburgh - Crowley and Aziraphale meet Elspeth, a body snatcher, and are caught up in her endeavours.

Aziraphale then does not see Crowley until...

1862 A.D London's St. James Park - Crowley asks Aziraphale for Holy Water, as a 'just in case'. Appalled, Aziraphale leaves.

1941 A.D London - Aziraphale is caught up in a bait and switch with some Nazis. He is rescued by Crowley. One thing leads to another and Aziraphale is a magician in a show, the Nazi's become Zombies and to cut a long story short, it ends with the pair dining together.

1967 A.D Soho, London - Crowley meets Lance Corporal Shadwell and plans to steal Holy Water from a church. Hearing of this, Aziraphale appears to him in his Bentley and delivers a flask of it to him.

2008 A.D Soho, London - Crowley and Aziraphale meet to discuss the Antichrist and plan to become his godparents to raise him as a 'normal' child, neither influenced by heaven or hell.

2008 A.D - 2019 A.D - Crowley disguises himself as Nanny Ashtoreth and Aziraphale, as the Gardener Brother Francis, and the two try to influence Warlock.

2019 A.D - The events of the first season of Good Omens happens, our pair prevent Armageddon and live happily ever... wait what, a second season?

2020 A.D - 2022 A.D - Lockdown happens. This is where the 'Lockdown' video takes place.

2023 A.D - Pain, otherwise known as Season 2, happens.

I really hope this helps some of you with fic planning and stuff. I was getting really confused over when they met and when certain things started happening, that I needed a record for myself - then thought I should share it!

Edited to add: Thank you for the comments, pointing out some things I've missed! I've added lots of them in now. I've only really included events where the two have met (either in show or in book), and have not added in the bits that Neil Gaiman has added (such as the Wild West scenes etc). If there is a script book for S2 and they are in there - I will come back and add them in.

For a timeline that goes over other significant events in their history, please check out the amended version by @graviitron - they've added some cool bits in there, so thank you! 🥰

#good omens #good omens 2 #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #crowley #aziracrow #good omens season 2 spoilers #good omens season 1 #good omens timeline #GO #GO S1 #GO S2

[rustys-lodge]

hi love, can i request a Shelby sister fic where she’s kind of like sandie (last night in soho) where she dreams of making it big as a showgirl and she meets a man who promises her the world kind of like a pimp. she gets caught up in that showgirl life and her brothers do everything to stop her and she like loses it basically the plot of last night in Soho pretty much (re writing it cause i keep checking!)

Warnings : physical violence, prostitution, blood, murder, basically all the stuff that goes on in the movie.

A/N : i wrote half of this in class lol, i wish i could have posted it when you sent the request again but i had lots of homework. Anyways, i hope i didn't dissapoint. ❤❣

------

"Close your eyes."

You can't. they're going to be looking back.

"Y/n, close your eyes!"

You can't.

"I said, close your fuckin' eyes."

"I fucking can't." You hurl the words out of your mouth like a rabid dog's bark.

You can't close your eyes. All you see is their faces. The faces of the men that used your silence for their own selfish pleasures. You couldn't close your eyes because all you could see was their slashed faces, more specifically, the blood gushing out, their irises wide, your own disgusting reflection firing in their terrified eyes and those tears that never seemed to dry.

---

A few days ago, you were at your last straw, you were fighting that urge, that last one, the one that needed to go the most.

You hurried up the stairs, the soles of your feet stinging with every step you took. your hand took ahold of the handle, enhancing your balance and so, propelling you forward,helping you gain a few more crucial seconds, you hurried to the room, shutting the door closed just in time for him to get to you. You locked the door and pressed your back against it.

A loud bang vibrated the door you were leaning against. Startled, your heart thudded every time his fist collided with the wood.

Another bang sounded...And another one.... relentless and eager to get you to die. Your body shook to your core and you squeezed your eyes tight, the blue and the red lighting of the bistro still seeping through your shut eyelids.

You needed an escape. You needed to-

"Open this fucking door, you whore. You know you did this to yourself, now open this fucking door."

You needed to kill him. That's it.

You marched to the bed, tucking your hand under the pillow to retrieve the knife you so long hid under there. Your little protector. Your fingers tightly squeezed the handle and you walked back to the door, your hand eagerly pushing the handle down.

That's it. I'm doing it. I'm killing him.

As the door frame swung open, your agent, Jack, stood at the door, only his silhouette was apparent, his head was cocked to the side, he stared at you. Although his eyes were shadowed by his propelled brow ridge, you knew that he was staring. because you knew him. And you held the knife even closer to you. And you would've used it, if he hadn't barked at your face.

"You know you deserve it, slut."

You froze at the comment, not that it's the first time you heard it, it's the shock that comes with it every time, the sudden realization of your current situation, where you'd gotten and where you w-

A sudden ache etched from your jaw when Jack's palm violently made contact with it, snapping you out of your thoughts and sending you backwards, with a sudden rush of adrenaline.

You were more than ready to fight. but you needed not to die first.

You shifted away as Jack stormed over to you, bending down swiftly take ahold of your footbut your good reflexes were even faster, you kicked him backwards, hard. Hard enough to have him staggering.

"Stop it, slut." Jack's hand swung again, grabbing your ankle, hindering you from kicking again.

"Leave. Me. Alone." Your hand scrambled around for the knife that fell from your hand earlier but you got interrupted when jack's body suddenly jolted forward, crashing over your own body, squeezing the air in your lungs shut.

"I got him."

A voice that sounded like a divine presence spoke and you recognized it right away, hoarse and angry. You just couldn't bel-believ-believe....Or brea-breathe..

As the man's doubled weight got lifted off of you, you drew the deepest breath in, still unable to process or comprehend what had just happened.

"It's okay, sweetheart, we're here now."

Your eyes followed the voice, and figures of the Shelby brothers seemed to stand by the door, like angels guarding god's little creatures. One of them, Tommy, who reached his hand out for you. But still frozen, you didn't take it.

"It's okay, honey, he's gone." As you were unresponsive, He scooped you up from the ground you laid on.

"It's okay, honey, he's gone."

From the corner of your blurred eyes, you saw Jack's cadaver being kicked and spat on. You'd smile. But your jaw was too numb.

"It's ok-"

--

"it's okay, Sweetheart."

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you turn the other way, facing away from him.

A very frustrated sigh leaves his lips. He's still calm, though. "I told you i won't let anything like this ever happen to you again, sweetheart. I'm here now."

A second later the bed frame roars and Tommy is hugging you from the back;

For a very quick second you're about to startle, but Tommy proceeds by softly whispering into your ear first, "It's okay. It's just me." His arm envelops your chest, sending the warmth of his body vibrating into yours.

"I see them too. They may not be the same people but i see them too. Im here.".

-----

Hello, yall, i will be changing accounts soon. I'm going to start writing on the other one, if yall have any requests, please go on that one. ❤️❤️❤️🥀🥀🥀

#shelby sister #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby x sister!reader #shelby sister!reader #shelby tag #tommy shelby x sister #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinders sister #peaky sister #late night in soho fic #sister!reader #sister x brothers

[ineffable-endearments]

I don't know if I think it's likely that Crowley would hang around Soho after the events of S2. Something in my gut is telling me that he would flee. Just...way, WAY too many reminders of Everything. People asking him where Mr. Fell's gone, probably. Hundreds of years of memories. And given that he's going to want to reestablish his own boundaries and emotional walls immediately after what feels to him like a massive betrayal, I don't think I see him wanting to look out for the bookshop or do any favors in memory of Aziraphale. Not yet; not until their story moves forward a bit.

But on an emotional level, the vision of the other characters trying to comfort him is so healing. I WANT to see Muriel trying to talk to him about human stuff and being so ridiculously goofy about it that Crowley forgets to be sad for a few seconds. I WANT to see Nina serving him espresso and sarcasm, and Maggie bringing him records that he doesn't usually like but occasionally does.

And yes, I WANT to see him looking out for the bookshop anyway. I don't know if I can believe it, but I want so badly for him to look at the ruins of his former life and decide it's still worth something. Even if Aziraphale isn't here now. The history in the books and the scrolls and the people who live in the neighborhood and the very buildings themselves - they're still worth something.

And there is still room for a few potted plants in the shop, which he brings from his flat.

I also want Crowley to find out what Newt and Anathema and the Them are up to. I want to see Anathema warily eyeing Crowley from afar as she wonders why this weirdo is back in town before finally going over to say hello. I want to see a very well-intended Newt break Crowley's cell phone while trying to help him find directions. I want Dog running and yipping around their feet while Adam offers to share his ice cream, and Pepper asks a bunch of incisive questions about where Crowley's from, and Brian drips chocolate all over himself, and Wensleydale yammers on about the Them's latest project.

I want the Tadfield crowd to visit Soho for the coffee shop that Mr. Crowley mentioned, or perhaps for the Soho crowd to visit Tadfield for the amazing weather Crowley insists is always there.

"Humans: you don't let yourself get too attached." I want him to finally figure out how to love a little community, even knowing that the members of it will pass away and change over time.

I spend all my time analyzing Aziraphale because I love him so much but find his motivations hard to understand - writing meta after meta is my way of processing my thoughts. But I love Crowley, too. He has taken a little bit less emotional processing for me. But I want so much to see him genuinely rested and content. It would be like seeing part of myself be rested and content.

#go s2 spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #good omens

[everythingdenied]

breaking the bed in-matty healy

a/n: hi bb's <3 it's been a while, huh? but i'm back on my bullshit & after like eight years of deliberating what to write...i present to you: sub!matty. i wrote most of this half asleep and i haven't proofread it yet but i'm desperate to post so here you all go hehe ;) also, i can't thank @eaglestar31 enough for all the help and inspo w this (including this beautiful fucking picture.) everyone go say thank you evie!!!

warnings: pure filth, fem!reader, mentions of light restrains/being tied up etc wc: 2403

When he and I had shared our first kiss in a dingy Soho bar, drunk on cheap lager and lust, I'd hardly imagined that, one day, we'd find ourselves here, moving in together.

Sat cross legged in our apartment, hearts full and rooms bare, it felt strange to be able to say that, finally, we were settling down. It was only a small flat, a little one bedroom tucked away on the outskirts of Bethnal Green, but I didn't mind one bit. I'd have been content living in an old wheelie bin, as long as it was our wheelie bin to share. I didn't even care that the place was a mess, cardboard boxes littering every room, or that Matty had somehow already managed to make the air heavy with the smell of his cigarettes; I was floating on a high, one that even the tedious building of flat pack furniture couldn't spoil. No matter how much Matty whined about it. 

Padding into our bedroom with my hands curled around a lukewarm cup of coffee, my lips curved into an affectionate smile at the sight before me. Matty was sat cross legged on the floor, brows knitted together in concentration as he desperately tried to screw our new bed-frame together. He'd been at it all afternoon, vehemently insistent that building a bed was light work for him. However, as the hours passed, it had become increasingly obvious that DIY wasn't exactly his strong suit, despite the manly facade he'd initially put on. Albeit, I couldn't complain; watching him hard at work with his sweatpants hanging low on his waist and sweat sheathing his brow had been the highlight of moving day.

"How's it comin' along?" I teased playfully, gingerly leaning against the doorframe as I watched Matty attempt to jam an ill-fitting screw into the bed post, his muscles flexing in his tight black tank top.

Huffing, he let out a frustrated whimper as the screw fell from his hand, hitting the floor with a loud clank.

"Shit..." he cursed, glancing up at me through his wild mop of curls as he scrabbled around for the instructions. "I don't think i'm cut out for this DIY shit. Maybe we should, like, call Ross or summat. He'll be good at this stuff..."

"Aw, poor baby" I chuckled warmly, carefully setting my mug down. "You want some help?"

Matty glanced between me and the jumbled mess of screws and ambiguous metal parts littering the floor, wondering whether to admit defeat, before tentatively nodding his head. "Please..." he mumbled, sounding somewhat deflated. "Can't fuckin' figure this out."

More than happy to oblige, I plopped down atop Matty's lap, his warm hands instantly finding their place on my waist as I reached out for the flimsy manual. He nuzzled into my neck, his unruly curls tickling lightly against my skin as his breath fanned my cheek. I giggled at the sensation, desperately trying not to let my mind wander as I skim read the instructions. Matty, on the other hand, seemed to have already let his fall deep into the gutter, his lips meeting my jawline as he mewled softly.

"You're so gorgeous..." He hummed against my skin, hands snaking beneath the hem of my old t-shirt. "Can't believe I get to share a bed with you for the rest of my life."

Smirking, I cupped the soft curvature of his jaw. "That is if we ever get it built" I quipped teasingly, leaning into his touch momentarily before pulling away. “C’mon…I think I’ve figured out where this piece goes.” 

Matty whimpered lowly, his head falling limp against my shoulder. “Mph, can’t we take a break? Been at this for hours now” 

I rolled my eyes playfully, relishing in the mere thought of denying him what he so desperately yearned for. It was always so easy for me to get him worked up, the most simple act of sitting on his lap rendering him restless and needy, already hardening beneath the confines of his sweatpants.

“I thought you wanted my help?” I turned my head to face him, a teasing smirk tugging on the corner of my lips as I shifted atop his lap, hearing the shaky draw of his breath as my ass brushed over his growing bulge. I reached forward to grab the screwdriver tossed haphazardly onto the floor, feeling his gaze fix on my butt, clad only in a pair of tight shorts.

"Angel..." Matty practically whined, fidgeting uncomfortably beneath me. "Play fair."

"Hmm?" I feigned innocence, biting back the sadistic laughter bubbling in my throat as I watched his eyes glaze over with desire, knowing I had no intention of giving in anytime soon. "I'm not doin' anything."

Matty frowned, listlessly accepting the screwdriver I held out to him. He mumbled something unintelligible under his shaky breath, grumbling like a petulant child as I denied him once more, moving his wandering hands away from the waistband of my shorts.

"What was that, baby?" I hummed lowly, adjusting my position until I was straddling Matty. "C'mon. What did you say?"

"S'not nice to tease..."

"And it's not nice to act like a needy little brat either but...here we both are."

Matty pouted, his tongue darting over his bottom lip as he I cupped his chin in my hands, his usually bright eyes blown wide as he blinked up at me, the golden afternoon sun speckling his face.

"Please, baby..." He choked out. "Can't just get me all worked up like this and do nothing."

I tittered, letting my hands travel to the bag of his neck, grabbing lightly at a handful of his curls.

"Oh, my poor needy boy" I mocked, my honey sweet tone the perfect antitheses to Matty's pained whimper. "Need me to get you off so bad, don't you?" He nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped harshly, greedy hands fumbling for any part of my skin he could reach. "Well, you're gonna have to wait, baby. Can't have it yet."

"Angel...please." He breathed out, desperately bucking his crotch up against me.

"Nuh uh, don't be so pathetic. Gotta build this bed first, yeah? Then maybe you'll get your reward..."

Finally realising, much to his chagrin, that no amount of whining or pleading would lead to him getting his way, Matty gave in, distractedly attempting to finish up the flat pack bed he'd been working on all day. His movements were hasty and haphazard and, buzzing with sexual tension, he often found himself screwing wrong ends together, unable to keep himself focused on the task in hand when I was sat only inches away, arse pressed against his throbbing hard on. However, after what felt like hours for both Matty and I, he managed to screw the last end of the bedpost together, looking as if he was about to burst with anticipation as he hurriedly dragged our new mattress onto the bed frame.

His eyes flitted between me and the bed as he carefully sat himself down on the very edge, breath catching his throat as I moved to straddle his waist once more, fingers trailing his biceps.

"Good job, baby" I cooed sweetly, fingers teasing the waist band of his sweats. My core dripped at the very prospect of what I was about to do. "Did so well for me. My big strong boy. Think you deserve your reward now, yeah?"

Matty nodded frantically, eyes wide and lips parted slightly. "P-please, baby. Been so good."

"Mhm, you have" I agreed, shimmying his pants down slightly so that his cock finally sprung free, its tip an angry rouge. Smiling, I placed my hand on his chest, pushing him back lightly. "Lie back for me, sweet boy."

Eager to do what he was told, Matty lay back against the mattress, gasping as my thumb trailed down the base of his cock, collecting some of his dripping pre-cum.

"God, look how fuckin' desperate you already are, baby. Been wanting to break the bed in all day, hmm?" I held my thumb to his pink lips. "Wanna taste how fuckin' needy you are?" Matty nodded once more, taking my thumb in his mouth without question as he licked it clean off his own arousal, whimpering as I continued to grind my hips against him. "Good boy."

His jaw slackened and my thumb fell from his lips as I leaned down to kiss him softly, the usually loving gesture oozing with sex. Pulling apart, I moved from the bed, tiptoeing across the room to reach into one of the cardboard boxes Matty and I had lugged into our apartment earlier this morning.

"Baby...w-what?" Matty whimpered from his position on the bed, craning his neck to look for what could have possibly taken my attention away from him.

"Shh, s'okay, baby. One sec." I crooned, finally finding what I'd been looking for under a heap of Matty's clothes stuffed into a box. I pulled the thin black neck tie from the box, a satisfied smile on my lips as I clambered back atop Matty, watching his plump lips form a knowing 'O' shape. "Gonna let me tie you up, pretty boy?"

He was more than happy to agree, gazing up at me in awe as I took ahold of his slender wrists, delicately looping the satin tie around them until it was just tight enough to restrain his hands behind his head. "Feel okay?" I asked, sitting back to admire him as he lay sprawled out on our new bed, his sweatpants pooling around his knees. I relished in how vulnerable he looked like this, his skin beaded with sweat and his hair tousled as he nodded his head submissively, desperate for my touch. "Good. Look so pretty like this. All tied up for me."

I hummed to myself, fingers brushing over his throbbing cock once more before I wrapped my hand around it, languidly pumping him a few times as he writhed beneath me.

"Angel, f-fuck, please. N-need to be in you."

"I know, baby, I know. Do anything for this cunt, wouldn't you?" I teased, keeping my pace painfully slow as I moved my hand up and down his length as his hazy brown eyes bore into me, wordlessly begging for more as he lay helpless beneath me. I could tell he longed for nothing more than to touch me and, whilst I adored the feeling of having his hands roam my body, I couldn't help but relish in seeing him completely at my mercy. "Want me to use you, love? Get myself off on your cock?

"S-shit...please. Use me, b-baby. Do anything. Just...fuck...need you" Matty pleaded breathlessly ,bucking his hips into my hand as I felt his release, already on the brink of undo after an hours worth of teasing. I carefully pulled my hand away, watching his wrists strain against his makeshift restrains as I moved to slip off my shorts, tossing them onto the floor along with the lace panties he'd bought me months ago.

Adjusting my position, I lowered myself down onto Matty's length, feeling him fill me up completely. He let out a choked whimpered, practically on the verge of tears by the time I eventually began to rock my hips. I started off slow, moving almost rhythmically along with the cacophony of choked moans and whines I'd elicited from his lips. However, with each pleading whimper, I found it hard to tease, so intent on my own release that I started to bounce on his cock, hands splayed out on his chest as I chased my own high, fucking myself on him.

"Fuck...doing so good for me, sweet boy. Feel good?"

He said nothing, only whimpering as he rolled his hips into mine. However, he needn't say a word anyhow; watching his eyes roll back into his head as he panted messily beneath me said more than any amount of praise could.

Soon enough, I could feel myself tightening around him, pleasure clouding my mind as I rode him, knowing he wouldn't be far behind from me. As if on cue, Matty bucked his hips sharply into me, his back arching off the soft mattress. "F-fuck, angel. Please...f-faster. Don't stop...think i'm gonna...fuck" He breathed out, a slew of incoherent curses leaving his parted lips as I sank down onto his hard cock once more, feeling it twitch inside my warmth. "You gonna cum, baby? S'that what you're tryna say" I mocked his unfinished words teasingly, thumbs digging into his waist as I rode him, the filthy sound of skin slapping together echoing around the almost completely bare room. "M'not far off. Hold it in for me till I cum, yeah? Think you can...think you can do that for me, pretty boy?"

Matty nodded tentatively, seemingly unsure of his own ability to hold off but willing to try for me as I sped up my movement, seconds away from release.

"That's my good boy."

Soon enough, I felt myself start to come undone around him, my nails digging harshly into his skin soft as I drew out my high, leaving little red nail marks peppered along his waist. I let out a prolonged moan, barely slowing as I encouraged Matty to let go with me, lidded eyes watching as the love of my life writhed in pleasure beneath me, marked and tied; all mine.

"C'mon, baby. Cum for me, yeah? Doing so good" I praised him breathlessly, watching him desperately roll his hips into me, whimpering loudly until he finally let go, his back falling against the mattress as he finally came, his cum dripping out of my sensitive pussy and down the base of his red-raw length.

"F-fuck...b-baby. Thank you....thank you" He panted heavily, chest rising and falling as he remained deep inside of me, hands still bound together with one of his favourite ties as he blinked up at me through bleary eyes, our heads swimming with pleasure.

His sensitive body jolted as, after taking a few moments to recover, I slowly lifted myself off of him, making sure to be as delicate as possible as I heard him whimper at the loss of contact. Shuffling beside him, I reached out for his wrists, leaning down to kiss him as my fingers shakily worked to remove his restrains.

"Gonna take these off now, yeah, sweet boy? Think we've broken the bed in enough for today...."

#matty healy fanfic #matty healy x reader #matty healy

[tillthelandslide]

Same For You: (3) The Deal

A/n: here's part 3 guys, I'm loving writing this series and trust me there's good stuff to come.... I'm so excited!!! I hope you're enjoying this so far :) let me know what you think ❤️- Lou

Series Warnings: slow burn romance, eventual smut, age gap, complicated relationship (low-key unhealthy dynamics), eventual love...

Series Masterlist

(2) Your Very Own Mirror

She sits in the Dirty Hit office, Jamie sat opposite her, Matty sitting next to Jamie, the pair looking at a bunch of stacked papers. The pair had been texting constantly since they met up for coffee, talking about music, speaking about their songs and their mutual interests in other artists. She explained how Fleetwood Mac was her favorite band, he informed her that they were one of Ross' favorites too. He spoke a lot about Ross, she was unsure what the intention was, she secretly hoped the bearded man asked Matty to slip him into conversation but the rational part of her brain told her it was more likely that it was just general chit chat. Mates supporting mates.

She liked how Matty and her were at the moment, despite not knowing each other for very long at all, he got her, she felt like he had very quickly become one of her best friends. Her favorite times were late at night, when he'd randomly call her and ask "have you heard of this thing love?" And began talking about some niche topic. She also loved when he'd call her to talk about music, to recommend a song he'd listened to and thought she'd like. Each call proved that she was at the forefront of his mind and she was becoming quite accustomed to the idea.

She was sat picking at her nails, only noticing the bad behavior when she feels blood being drawn from the skin, she rolls her hand up into a fist, hiding the abuse she'd given to herself, opting to pick at the varnish of the other hand.

"Are you okay love?" He asks, watching as he picked at her black nail varnish, small flecks falling somewhere unseen. He's by her side in the next second, a look of pure worry on his face. His presence near her, closer to her, made her feel calmer, he quietened her ever noisy brain.

"Yeah yeah... Sorry just a bit nervous I guess" she says making him nod but he can tell she's withholding the truth. He places his hand in hers and squeezes gently, before letting her go.

"Don't be... We're the ones that should be nervous" he says making her confused.

"How so?"

"You might say no" Jamie speaks, placing his phone down on the table.

"Let's get this started then shall we"

The three of them settle on a deal of sorts, a trial period, where Matty, George and Ross (all who agreed prior) would book in some studio time with Y/n and her band. The idea was, that after they had established some tracks, and worked with the boys, if she liked it and felt like the label offered what her and the band was looking for, she would then sign to it. Jamie explained that he hoped she would sign to the label and if they did, they could support the 1975 for a few shows. All of the talk was very exciting but she was also incredibly nervous.

❀•°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀ •°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀

They all sit around the brown leather booth in a hipster looking bar in Soho, round the corner from where y/n and the band usually perform. She's dressed comfortably in a pair of black jeans and a black knitted sleeveless turtle neck, when she left the house earlier to attend the meeting, it was fairly warm. Outside was now far too chilly for her liking and she cursed herself for not bringing a jacket. Matty had walked with her to this particular bar, texting the rest of the band to join them.

"Cheers" Ross says, clinking his glass against hers and Matty's, George who was sitting across from her raising his glass to her and smiling widely.

"To the new recruit" Matty says making her chuckle and shake her head.

"Hey I haven't agreed yet!" Her words make everyone chuckle and she doesn't miss the way Matty raises his eyebrows at her, as if to say "sureeee"

"Yeah I heard all about your bargaining... Ballsy" George says, the word having been used to describe her far too many times now.

"Got to protect myself and the band haven't I?" She says and they all laugh again.

"So we start making this album with you and you'll consider letting the label sign you?" George asks and she nods.

"Wow... You really are cool... Charli was right" George says making everyone laugh.

"Speaking of' George says, standing up as the black haired girl strides towards him, he meets her in a hug and they share a quick peck, George murmuring a "hi baby" which makes y/n smile warmly, before she's turning towards y/n.

"Hey bitch!" She says, pulling y/n up and hugging her.

"Hi!" She's says, hugging Charli tightly. They weren't the closest but she always loved being around Charli and her friends and was very fond of her, wanting to be closer with her. The girls sit back down and they all talk amongst themselves. Matty talks to Charli and George as Ross speaks with Y/n.

Adam eventually joins and Y/n stops her conversation with Ross abruptly, looking at Adam who was now greeting Matty.

"Hann this is y/n, the artist we told you about. Y/n this is Adam" Matty says and she stands, reaching a hand out to him who shakes it with a smile.

"Great to finally meet you, the guys haven't shut up about you to be honest" he says and she smiles, mouth falling open and then shutting again, at a loss for words.

"You okay love?" Matty asks and she shakes her head, composing herself.

"I can't lie... I'm kind of freaking out, I'm a huge fan..." She says to Adam making everyone laugh.

"You're one of the reasons I started playing guitar, you're mad talented" she hates the way she sounds like a cliche fan but she couldn't help it. Matty raises his eyebrows at her and she sees the cogs turning in his brain, he looks at her and she knows he's mentally saying "Adam your fave then?" But she shakes her head at him.

"Wow, thank you, that means a lot. The guys showed me some videos of you and your band playing, you're sick!" She smiles and blushes at his words, sitting back down next to Ross and continuing their conversation.

"He's right you know... You're really talented, amazing really... How long have you been playing guitar?" The way he so casually compliments her had her heart fluttering and she nearly stutters over her words- nearly.

She feigns confidence as she says "since I was 15, the summer after I discovered your band... I tried bass but it wasn't for me" and he laughs.

"How so?" He asks.

"my hands are too small and I struggled to be honest"

"don't be silly, let me see" he says, lifting her hand and placing it against his. The sensation is instant for both of them, fire igniting, sparks flying, electric buzzing, hand against hand but it's as if their souls have been ripped open for the other to see.

Their mouths both fall open as they touch, neither look at their hands, too busy looking into each other's eyes, occasionally flicking down to each other's lips. She feels the warmth of his hand against her and she blushes.

"You're right... You've got tiny hands" he struggles to get the words out, having to swallow a few times before they even come out. She smiles at his teasing, fingers closing around his hand, tugging it towards her before she opens her hand again, inspecting it closer.

"Or you've just got giant hands Macdonald" he smirks at her then, eyes finally moving away from her lips and down at their hands. Her mouth sits slightly agape as she takes in his hand, eyes falling on the veins and callouses there.

Their moment is interrupted by the buzz of her phone which sits in her lap, her eyes flick down to look at it before she looks back up at Ross.

"Sorry' she says quietly, reluctantly letting go of his hand and reaching for her phone. His hand wraps back around his glass, bringing the liquid back up to his lips to take a sip.

He watches her over the rim of his glass, seeing the way her eyebrows furrow as she reads the text she received. He doesn't like the way she's huffing as she reads it, or the roll of her eyes before she's placing her phone face down onto table, drawing her attention back to him.

She seems almost withdrawn when her eyes find his again, and the smile she directs his way seems forced.

"Everything okay love?" Her stomach flutters at the nickname and she has to stop herself from gasping. She's worried her voice will fail her so she simply nods, but with one look from Ross, a raise of his eyebrows and a tilt of his head, she's spilling all.

"Sorry it's just the band... They didn't want to come to the meeting with me - said I can make the decision as I'm the 'frontman' which I already fucking hate... Which is just stupid anyway because we're a band, were supposed to make these decisions together, and now Jay, drummer, is lecturing me saying I should just sign the contract... That doing studio time with you guys before is a waste of time" she rants, her words are rushed but Ross manages to catch every single one without fail, she buffs at the end of her words, breath fast and shallow.

"Love" he says, her heart fluttering again, picking up tenfold when he takes her hand back in his "breathe for a second" he watches as she inhales deeply before exhaling, her shoulders slumping slightly after she does.

"Better?' she nods.

"Good... I'm sorry darling, that sucks... For what it's worth, I think it's really brave of you.. and super cool too" he says, a clear smirk resting against his lips as he speaks.

"Really?" she barely realises that her hand is still in his, only noticing when he follows his "yeah" with a squeeze of her hand.

"I think you're just trying to do what's best for your band and although they're putting all the pressure on you to make that decision, I think you're making the best one... Just looking out for them" he says and she's the one squeezing his hand now, silently thanking him.

"I'm glad you get it... Thank you Ross" she says, debating whether to pull her hand away from his despite not wanting to. It seemed like it was a matter of who would break first.

"You're welcome sweetheart... Anytime" her breath hitches again at the new nickname, this time not going unnoticed by the bassist, who raises his eyebrows, but doesn't say anything, which she feels grateful for, she really didn't want to feel mortified right now. Instead he surprises her with a question.

"Fancy going outside for a bit?" He asks, eyes never leaving hers, the intensity of his eye contact making her mouth fall open slightly. She nods as her eyes flick from his eyes to his mouth.

They stand from the table, thankfully everyone is too engrossed in their conversation to realise and they quietly slip outside the pub. The cold air immediately makes her skin prick up and goosebumps rise to the surface, she wraps her hands around herself, running them up and down her arms in an attempt to keep herself warm.

Wordlessly, Ross shrugs off his jacket, moving forward and draping it over her frame, the fabric almost immediately drowning her, but the warmth she feels (weather from the item of the clothing, or from the fact she's wearing his jacket) makes her smile. His hands don't leave the lapels straight away, tugging gently until she's standing closer to him.

Maybe it was because Ross was usually quiet, his actions this evening were taking her by surprises, pleasantly so.

"You look cute in my clothes" the confession makes her blush and she has to take a step back, sighing deeply. "Where are you going?" He says, pulling her towards him again. He notices her breath is heavy again.

"What's up, am I making you uncomfortable?" He goes to retreat but she stops him, shaking her head as she looks up at him

"No... Not at all... You're just surprising me is all" she admits and he smirks.

"How so?"

"The pet names, the- the touching... The forwardness... Just didn't expect it from you to be honest... You're usually quiet" she says and he nods.

"I'm not usually this forward to be honest..."

"What is it about me then?" She challenges.

"Everything" the one word answer has her breath hitching again and he notices, smirking and pulling her close to him again.

"I like that noise... Wouldn't mind hearing it in different circumstances" he says, as she laughs in an attempt to ease the tension.

"Jesus Christ" she murmurs "you're giving me whiplash".

"Sorry... I'm coming on too strong aren't I?" He says, stepping back again, this time she lets him. Not because she wanted him away from her (in fact she wanted exactly the opposite) but she allows it because she thinks it's best, she knew they'd get ahead of themselves if she allowed it to continue.

"You're not, don't apologise" she says, making him smile.

"Okay..." The tension seems to be lifted somewhat and she can breathe almost normally again. Her heart is still beating rapidly in her chest, almost soaring when she spots the dimples either side of his lips and the way his eyes are creasing as he smiles.

"I want to get to know you more... Seeing as we're going to be working together" he says and she smirks, sure that was the reason, she thinks.

"Id like that" he nods, stepping forward just slightly. He feels the need, the desire to just hug her but refrains from doing so, wondering what's coming over him. He was never like this usually.

"We should go inside... I'm freezing my tits off" he says making her laugh loudly. Oh god that laugh he thinks, he thinks it's the best noise he's ever heard and knew he'd do anything to hear it again.

"You didn't have to give me your jacket" she gazes up at him, one eyebrow raising, her eyes almost twinkle when she sees him smirk, accompanied with a slow shake of his head. His hand slowly reaches forward, just one hand, reaching for the edge of his jacket, smoothing the fabric between his fingers. She feels his knuckle graze her abdomen briefly before he pulls back.

"Don't be silly, I wanted to... Couldn't have you shivering out here whilst I'm all toasty" he explains, she stops her breath from hitching, sighing instead, trying to pull it off as a content one instead of a surprised one.

"And now it's the other way round" she says, raising her eyebrows as her arms cross over her chest, the fabric creasing under her hands, his scent escaping from the clothing, harassing her senses, making her skin rise in goosebumps again.

"oh shush' he says making her laugh. He places a hand at her back, leading her back inside. They make their way back over to their table, her still in his jacket and his hand still resting against her back, coming to rest against the back of her seat as they sit back down.

Her eyes find Matty's as she shrugs off Ross' coat, the curly haired man frowning at her.

"What's up?' she mouths, worried something was up with him. She couldn't quite explain it but she felt some sort of duty towards Matty already, knowing he was so similar to her and that alone had her wanting to protect him. She wasn't sure whether she liked how deeply she cared for him already, she felt like she knew him so well already and was a scared of getting hurt. Whilst on the other hand, the man who's jacket she was just wearing, she didn't know that well at all, seeing as in the years she had been following the band, he was more reserved than Matty.

"Later" he mouths back, making her frown. She picks up her phone that she left again the table, ignoring the texts from her bandmates and pulling him Mattys contact in her phone.

Ross draws his eyes away from the scene, not wanting to intrude but feels a pang of jealousy hit him. He sees the name light up her phone "Bestie ❤️" and somehow he knows its Matty.

"You'd tell me if something was up right?" She sends the message, hearing the ding of his phone before he's drawing it from his pocket, eyes flicking from the device to her as he reads it.

"Yeah love... Don't worry I'm fine x" she receives back in reply, placing her phone down and smiling at him, he smiles back. She makes a funny face at him for safe measure, just in case he was in fact lying, she hoped it would cheer up a little bit.

He chuckles and the sight makes her smile wide again, turning her attention back to Ross for a second, who smiles at her too.

"So y/n..." She looks to see who was talking to her, finding Adam smiling at her.

"How long have you and your band been together... What's the name again?" He asks and she smiles.

"The Love Of Thieves" she confirms, making him raise his eyebrows, muttering a "cool name".

"We've been together for almost 10 years now... Started when I was 15, the rest were around 18 then" she says.

"They're older than you?" Matty asks, her eyes flicking to him and she smiles, nodding at him.

"Yeah... Everyone thought it was really weird... Me hanging out with people who were older than me. But my brother played bass with our drummer's brother, and we all used to hang out... They didn't realise I was as young as I was until about 6 months in" she explains and everyone laughs. Ross can't help but like the fact her brother played bass, knowing it was a conversation they could have another time.

"Such a cool kid weren't you?' Matty jokes making her raise her middle finger at him.

"Shut up... I didn't get along with people my age to be honest. Besides I grew up around older people, so I just fit in with them" she explains and people around the table nod, seeming to understand.

"Where did the name come from?" George asks, sipping from his glass as his other hand held Charli's.

"We actually kind of stole it..." She says, making everyone laugh.

"My dad always used to play records around the house and I remember coming downstairs one day and this song was playing... Wasn't really my vibe like musically but there was this one lyric" she says, smiling as she looked at her fingers.

"Oh the tears that you weep, For the poor tortured souls, Who fall at your feet... I fucking loved that... So I asked my dad what the song was"

A chorus of "The Love Thieves" breaks out and she nods.

"We added a word obviously..." She laughs again "it was originally just a place holder but it kind of just..."

"Stuck' Matty finishes and she nods again.

"I think that's fucking sick" he then says and she smiles.

"Thanks..." She blushes as Matty smiles.

"Cool name for a cool band" Ross says and she smiles over at him.

Eventually people start filtering out, Adam leaves first, wanting to get home go his wife and child, which Y/n finds very sweet. Charli and George are then leaving next, Charli pulling her up from the table to hug her tightly.

"We'll have to go out soon, just the two of us" y/n confirms with a nod and Charli then kisses her cheek and bids her farewell.

Mumbling a "keep being a legend and if these lot get on your nerves, let me know"

Matty, Ross and Y/n stay until close, eventually being ushered out by one of the bar tenders.

She begins to shiver as soon as she steps outside, and it's a matter of which one shrugs their jacket off first, the winner being Matty, who drapes his coat over her shoulders. She says a thank you but her eyes find Ross' who looks down sadly at her.

"Sorry for being that idiot who didn't bring a jacket" she says making them both laugh.

"It's fine, I've got my cig to warm me up" Matty says and she nods.

"Want me to call you a cab?" Ross then speaks up, she smiles but ultimately shakes her head at him.

"No I'm good thank you, Abbie works around the corner and has just finished her shift so she's going to swing by and pick me up" she explains making the both of them nod.

"Abbie is your guitarist right?" Ross asks and she nods.

"The one and only... She likes to think she's Hann but she's really not" her words making the boys chuckle.

"She's a fan too?' Matty asks, cringing when he realises he just called her a 'fan'. But y/n doesn't mind, because she was one, and a huge one at that. She had their logo tattooed for Christ sake.

"She is" she confirms. They hear the beep of a car and y/n flicks her eyes towards it, seeing Abbie with her head out of her window, waving at them.

"Well that's me" she says, going to shrug off Mattys jacket but he stops her.

"Keep it" he says, pulling her towards him to hug her tightly.

"Lovely to see you again... I really look forward to working with you y/n' he says into her ear as they hug.

"You too Matty... Better text me" she says and he mumbles an 'of course, not getting rid of me now" they then pull away and she steps forward, closer to Ross.

"MacDonald" she says and he smirks down at her, hooking his arms around her waist and pulling her the rest of the way towards him.

"Y/L/N" he says back, sighing into her hair as they hug. It was the first hug they shared and he was already addicted. To the way she felt against him, in his arms, smaller than him, warm against him. The way he could feel her heart beat against his chest and the way she felt her warmth seep into him. The way he could smell her, more strongly now.

"Tonight was fun" he says and she nods against him. The pair realise they've been hugging for a little too long so reluctantly pull away.

"I'll text you" he says and she smiles, really hopeful that he does.

She pulls away and her eyes flick between the pair, heart beating and breath picking up. She then leaves them, walking to the guitarists car, opening the door and getting in.

She was fucked.

"Good night?" She asks as she begins driving.

"Amazing." She confirms.

"Who's jacket is that?'

"Mattys'

"Oh. Anything going on there?"

"No don't be silly"

Her phone buzzes as she looks at it, seeing one notification from an unknown number.

"Let me know when you're home please xx - Ross"

She quickly saved his number in her phone as "MacDonald" tempting to put a little heart next to his name but not wanting to get ahead of herself, when she recieves another message.

"Looked better in my jacket btw... Fancy grabbing a coffee sometime? Xx" it reads and it makes her gasp quietly again.

She thinks twice about sending what she wants to, deciding to just go for it and replying back with a "Yours was comfier... Smelt like you too 🤭... And would love to x"

Her phone pings far too quickly for it to be Ross so she looks again and sees another message, this firm from Matty, who had edited his contact name from the simple "Matty" to "Bestie ❤️" when they went for coffee with one another.

"I'm now realising the huge mistake I made when I gave you my jacket... You've got my house keys" it reads and she gasps.

"Fuck" she says, burring her hand into the pocket of his jacket, feeling the metal against her hands and pulling it out.

"What?" Abbie says.

"I've got Matty's keys" she says.

"Shit" Abbie says.

"Yeah. Shit"

"Text me your address please x" she sends, worrying when he doesn't reply "Matthew!" She then sends.

"I'm not letting you drive all the way here just to drop my keys off xx" - Matty.

"Well I'm not letting you roam the streets in the freezing cold Matthew. Send me your address xx" - Y/n.

He replies back almost immediately with his address.

"Do you mind dropping me off near by? I can get an Uber back if you need to be somewhere" she explains and Abbie nods.

"You sure? I can wait about a bit"

"No honestly it's fine"

They drive almost in silence to his house, pulling up close by.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do" she says making y/n shake her head.

"It's not like that.. I'm just going to give him his keys and then head home...besides you're literally gay"

"exactly"

Y/n walks the last bit towards his house, seeing him sitting on the curb.

"Oh thank fuck, I'm about to freeze to death here"

"Nice to see you too' she jokes.

"I'm so thankful you're here darling. Seriously, I could've crashed at someone's house" he says and she shakes her head, smiling when he pulls her into a tight hug.

"Wanna come up for a bit? I make a mean brew" he offers and despite knowing she should really say no, she's nodding.

"Sounds heavenly" and then she's handing him his keys and they're entering his house.

She's entering Matty Healy's house. Her phone buzzes in her (Mattys pocket) and if she had looked she would've seen a text from Ross that read "Home yet love? You've got me worried here xxx"

(4) No Need To Explain

A/n: AHHHHH what's going to happen next? Let me know what you think is going to happen!! If you're liking this please consider liking, leaving a comment and reblogging :) love youuuuu

© all lyrics are written and owned by yours truly (let's ignore the fact they're not that good but yeah) no stealing hehe

#the 1975 #ross macdonald #matty healy #adam hann #george daniel #the 1975 fanfic #matty healy x reader #ross macdonald x reader #the 1975 fan fiction #the 1975 fan fic #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald fan fic #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fan fic #george daniel fanfiction #ross macdonald x oc #matty healy x oc #George daniel x oc #same for you the 1975 series

[dontyouworrydaddy]

I have a more dark ask for you, so feel free to ignore it if it makes you uncomfortable. How would TF 141, Konig and Los Vaqueros react when they realize their s/o is a wanted serial killer? They would probably be shocked that such a kind and sweet woman is hiding such a dark secret. To add to the moral ambiguity, she only targets child abusers and rap!sts. Thank you and sorry in advance if this request upsets you.

𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧‘𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞?

Task Force 141 (+ König & Los Vaqueros) x fem! reader

Hi! First of all, I feel absolutely comfortable to write about dark themed stuff :) So it’s totally fine and I‘m actually excited to write this. This might take a bit longer than the others, since I think this is a very interesting and good idea.

Love you! 🩷

✩｡:*•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•*:｡✩

König

He usually never forgets where he puts his phone. But this time he didn’t know where he put it, so he took your phone to calm himself. But as he unlocks your phone he sees a text coming up and at first he tried to ignore it, since he respects your privacy. But one specific word and a name gained his attention…

Job- Josh Williams

What was this Job? You work as a nurse at the hospital. And who is Josh Williams? Is it someone you are treating? But he for sure would know if you told him about a Josh. Curiosity took over him and he clicked on the notification, wanting to find out what this Job is and who the hell Josh is.

Job- Josh Williams

Child abuser. Was on court, got away with it. Mother is scared he might do something to them. Current Location: England, London. Last seen in Bar Soho, alone. You know what to do Ashley. Send a picture of the body as soon as you’re finished. Good luck.

König was shocked. This got to be some sick Joke. Your name is not Ashley and you definitely wouldn’t harm someone. You can’t even kill a spider and start crying when König tells you to just do it. But he decided to swipe and he sees the conversation between you and this person. And then it clicks.

Ashley, the wanted serial killer in England and Austria, is you? That doesn’t make sense. No.

He lets the phone rest on the kitchen table and calls for you. You were in the bathroom, taking off your make up and getting ready for bed. You just got home from a long and exhausting shift. Or were you really at the hospital?

"Yes, love?“ you enter the room and you see him looking at you. But something was strange. Why is he wearing his mask? And why is he looking at you like you killed someone?

"You’re Ashley?" his voice cold and you could hear the disappointment in his voice. Your smile quickly drops and you look at him completely baffled.

"How?" your voice low and you look down. How could this happen? You made sure that no one ever finds out your true identity. The only thing you let the world know is that your name is Ashley, which is not true, and that you’re fighting for justice, since the government is failing so many women and children. The person who is sending you all these details is your best friend. König likes her because he knows that she is a good influence and you grew up together. But you’re not gonna expose her. Your eyes land on your phone and you don’t know how to feel. Mad because he was on your phone. Or scared that König might tell on you now.

"I can explain" you tell him and he doesn’t break the gaze. You take a step forward but he takes one back. You stop at his reaction and you could swear you felt your heart drop.

"König. I swear I don’t kill innocent people. Only rapists and child abusers. And only then when the government is not doing anything. These women and children are scared and don’t dare to go out because they never know when they might get killed. I swear to you." you desperately explain and your body needs a reaction from him, but he doesn’t react at all. He looks to the side and you wish you could see how he feels now. But he decided to cover his face again, making it hard for you to know how he feels right now.

"Ashley, huh?" his voice is harsh. You don’t dare looking at him. The weight of disappointment settles upon you soul like a leaden cloak, suffocating and heavy, the jagged edges of their expectations carving deep grooves of remorse through the tender fabric of one's self-worth, leaving behind a bitter residue that stains the heart's delicate tapestry for eternity. It is a hollow ache, an echoing chasm where warmth once resided, as the realization of your inadequacy seeps through the cracks of shattered trust, forever haunting the corridors of the conscience with its haunting refrain of missed opportunities and shattered dreams.

“Leave, please" his frigid and callous voice erupted like an icy tempest, each word crystallizing into shards of anguish that pierced the very depths of your soul, leaving behind a lingering ache that whispered of betrayal and shattered trust. You look at him and you can feel the tears build up in the corner of your eyes. Please, no…

“Y/N. Please. I just need time to think” for a second, you hesitate. You don’t want to leave. You both know that what you’re doing is a good thing. Making Women and Children feel safe. But he can’t think straight right now. And you respect that. So without saying anything, you leave, hoping for him to call you as soon as possible. Because your heart can’t stay away from him.

Simon Riley

"Job is done. Payment should follow like usual. Don’t call me unless I call you." you whisper-tell you secret boss. Simon doesn’t know anything about your secret life. You were working as a secret assassin whenever Simon was deployed and when he was at home, you were a nurse.

As you turned around, you saw Simon leaning against the doorframe, looking at you like you were his enemy. At this sight, your heart dropped.

"Simon." you innocently spoke and hid your phone in your back. You smile at him and look at his cold and stony eyes. You felt your heart beat faster and you hope that he didn’t hear you talking about the mission.

"Where were you?" his voice deep and harsh, causing you to jump, since you’re not known to this side of Simon. He would never talk to you like that. He promised himself to be better for you. You gave him nothing but love and comfort so he promised you to be better than ever.

"At the hospital" after these words leave your lips, he starts laughing and shaking his head.

"stop lying" he suddenly yells at you. You take a step back and drop your phone, letting it crack against the cold and hard floor of your shared bedroom. "Where. Were. You. I saw you leave a house. Who was it?" he takes a few steps towards you, closing the distance between you and him.

"Simon. It’s not what you think about." you barely whisper and he lets out a deep chuckle. "Then what is is?" he softly grabs your face with one hand. He usually did this when you weren’t holding eye contact. And now you don’t know how to react. You are already exposed, so you can also just tell him what you did. But if you do, you need to leave tonight. The chances of him calling the cops is too high. Especially when he finds out you’re one of the most wanted female serial killer.

"I killed someone. Someone not innocent. Will Ricksen. He raped his wife and got away with it because he owns a company in the US. The wife got in contact with us because she got threatened by him and she doesn’t want to live with fear anymore. I didn’t cheat on you. I could never. I only kill child abusers and rapists that get away with it. I swear to you, I would never kill someone who is innocent." you close your eyes, afraid to look at him. You were waiting for him to yell at you, scream and tell you how much he is disappointed in you. You were waiting for him to do anything that would break you down, but it never happened. Instead, you felt his rough hands patt the top of your head. And then, the unexpected happens.

Simon pulls you in tight hug and kisses the back if your head. This reaction of him left you confused and baffled. You hesitantly hug him back and bury your face into the crook of his neck.

"Don’t get caught." his voice was trembling and it felt like the inner child in him just spoke. You knew about his traumatic past and you understand his feelings. If you had the chance to kill his father, you would. When he told you his story, you cried. You hugged him so tightly, you were afraid to let go of him.

He didn’t let you go and he reassured you that he won’t tell anyone.

John MacTavish

”The fuck you mean?” you hear your boyfriends voice yell from behind you. You turn around and look at him and quickly end the call. You hope that he wasn’t talking to you but his facial expression and gesture are telling you otherwise.

“What do you mean Josh is dead? Why did this person called you Angela?“ his voice filled with anger, confusion and sadness. His face looks nothing like his usual one. Once, his countenance was a sanctuary of warmth and solace, a sanctuary where his eyes danced with affection and his lips bloomed with a sweet smile that embraced my every arrival. But now, that tender refuge has crumbled into a barren wasteland, where his gaze sears with icy disdain, casting shadows that echo a painful question: "How can I fix this? How do I tell him?"

“Johnny. Please let me explain…" you desperately beg him to let you explain what exactly is going on but it looks like that he has heard enough.

"Don’t call me Johnny. I loved you, Y/N. And now you’re lying to me? You’re a murderer? What exactly do you expect me to say? Oh yeah it’s okay it’s totally not quite the opposite of my Job. Funny, the guy that protects people is dating someone that harms them?" his frustration got the best of him and he doesn’t care if he is hurting you right now. He feels betrayed and hurt. And he wants you to feel the same things. You don’t mind. If your positions were swapped, you would have reacted the same way. But you wish he would let you explain now.

“John. Please. Let me explain. I‘m begg-" you were cut off by him smashing the class on the kitchen table against the wall next to him. You flinch and you feel your heart beat faster than usual. You could feel yourself getting pale.

“Why? I don’t get it. I don’t want to see you.” his cold voice spoke and you felt your heart stop beating. No.

"John, please" you took steps towards him, trying to fight for him, trying to show him that you’re not a bad guy.

"Stop." his harsh voice yelled at you and you stopped right where you are. "Don’t. I love you. But I need some time now. I won’t tell anyone. Just- leave me alone now" without looking back, he smashed the door behind him, making you flinch and leaving you there, heartbroken and angry at yourself. You don’t regret anything. You only regret letting him find it out like that.

John Price

In the dimly lit living room, tension crackled like static electricity between John Price and you, as the weight of unspoken grievances strained the fragile threads of your relationship. The air grew heavy with unspoken words, suffocating the room as your gazes clashed like opposing storms, each thunderous stare hinting at the brewing tempest within.

"John. I swear I‘m not betraying you. Give me a chance to explain! PLEASE! I swear on everything that is important to me, it’s not what you think" you beg him to let you explain your situation. This wasn’t how he was supposed to find out. He wasn’t supposed to know at all. Why couldn’t you talk a little quieter? Why did you even answer the phone, knowing John was at home.

"Shut up! Stop talking!" with a voice tinged with restrained anger, John's steely gaze bore into you, his eyes reflecting a mixture of disappointment and frustration. It was as if the unspoken accusations hung like a heavy fog in the room, obscuring the truth and suffocating any chance for reconciliation.

As the argument escalated, voices rose, echoing off the walls like distant thunder, their words slicing through the air like sharpened blades. Frustration mingled with regret, staining the once sturdy foundation of trust that had held your relationship together. The silence that followed was deafening, a void filled with unanswered questions and shattered hopes.

"I‘m leaving" with a pained expression etched on his face, John turned away abruptly, his footsteps echoing down the hallway as he left you behind, adrift in a sea of unanswered emotions. The weight of his absence settled heavily upon you, the room now filled with a haunting emptiness, leaving you yearning to fill the void and desperately longing for a chance to explain, to bridge the gap that had formed between you.

But for now, all that remained was the echo of an unfinished argument, the lingering ache of shattered camaraderie, and the unanswered plea to understand what had gone so horribly wrong.

You wish he let you explain.

Kyle Garrick

As the sun cast its warm glow upon the bustling city streets, you found yourself standing face-to-face with Kyle, a knot of tension coiling in your chest. Emotions simmered beneath the surface, threatening to spill over as the air crackled with the impending storm of their argument.

"You, Kyle…" you began, voice trembling with a mix of frustration and hurt, "cannot simply just not give me a chance to explain and expect me to accept it without question. You always let me explain. What’s happened now?"

Kyle's jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with a mixture of defiance and weariness. "You being a serial killer" he sighed, his voice laced with a hint of exasperation, "I- You‘re the complete opposite of me and god I don’t know what to say. You kill people? What if they find out? You could get into Jail."

"But Kyle," you pleaded, a note of desperation creeping into your voice, "I just want to understand that I need a chance to explain."

Silence hung heavy in the air, the weight of unspoken words pressing upon them both. Kyle's gaze softened, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he finally spoke, his voice filled with a mix of sincerity and vulnerability.

"Y/N" he murmured, his voice gentle yet laden with uncertainty, "I need some space. I need time to think, to sort through everything. I have to figure things out on my own."

A lump formed in your throat as the weight of his words settled upon you. The reality of the situation washed over you like a cold wave, leaving you feeling adrift and uncertain. Nodding slowly, you whispered, "Kyle- I understand. Take the time you need. Just... promise me you'll come back."

He didn’t even look at you before he responded "Stop" he said, his voice filled with some kind of sadness and disbelief "Just give me a little time."

With those words, a bittersweet ache settled in your heart, as you watched Kyle retreat into the distance, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the hope that, in time, you would find your way back to each other again.

You wished he never found out. But you don’t regret any single thing.

Alejandro

The dusty wind whispered through the corridors of the hidden military base, carrying tension on its ethereal tendrils as Alejandro and you found yourselves embroiled in a heated argument. Snd this only because he went through your phone, for an unknown reason, and he found the photos of the people that got away with Rape. But he didn’t know who they were, so he thought you were hurting innocent people, which you could never do.

"I ONLY HURT PEOPLE WHO HURT PEOPLE" Your voice clashed, words laden with frustration and hurt. The walls trembled with the intensity of the exchange, the air thick with unspoken fears and unmet expectations. Alejandro's piercing gaze met yours, his jaw clenched with a mix of anger and concern. "Mi Amora" he growled, "your job is at the hospital. And now you‘re a serial killer and…"

But defiance burned in your eyes as you stood your ground, your voice trembling with determination. "This is what I do, Alejandro. I protect these people, just like you do. I can't sit idly by while others suffer. It's in my blood. And I will continue protecting these women and children who cry for help!"

Silence settled between you, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. Alejandro's shoulders sagged, and his gaze softened, shimmering with unshed tears. "You're right," he conceded, his voice filled with both admiration and fear. "You're brave, stronger than anyone I know. I'm proud of you for fighting for what you believe in, for protecting those who can't protect themselves."

The words hung in the air, bridging the gap between you. Emotion washed over both of you, dissolving the anger and replacing it with a newfound understanding. Alejandro pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms a shield against the uncertainties of your chosen path.

#ghost call of duty #call of duty #los vaqueros #alejandro #rudy #call of duty kyle #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #könig cod #alejandro cod #rudy cod #call of duty ghost #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty könig #cod mw2 #task force 141 #cod modern warfare #cod mw #cod #call of duty fanfic #call of duty john price #call of duty modern warfare 2 #simon riley #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #cod mwii #cod mw soap

[aziraphales-library]

can u rec me any fics with aziraphale and/or crowley messing with humans? it could be pranks or stuff like that, but i like fics that write about when the people around them can feel there is something not quite human about them

You'll want to check out our #cryptid aziraphale, #cryptid crowley, and #outsider pov tags for loads more fics with this kind of theme. Here are some that may or may not have been recommended before...

The Resident Nudist of A.Z. Fell and Co. by WritesEveryBlueMoon (T)

PiperIsaNerd Ok I know we've all been distracted by Mr Fell's new nudist paramour but can we talk about the fact that Sunglasses literally got struck by lightning? brokenbibliophile I'm sorry, Mr Fell's what? - As the nude man who wandered through Soho becomes a viral sensation, rare book enthusiasts are fascinated by something far stranger: A.Z. Fell and Co.'s new assistant bookseller who is eager to actually sell books.

Big Spooky Fan by WorseOmens (NR)

A scout troop tells spooky stories around a campfire, and one ex-Londoner has an interesting tale to tell about Soho's most bizarre urban legend: AZ Fell and his antique bookshop. (Or: Aziraphale gets mistaken for a ghost)

Gift Horses by littlesystems (G)

"Mum?" "Yes dear?" "How long has Mr. Fell been coming to the bakery?"

The Sanctuary in Soho by herebewyverns (G)

Look, live in London for long enough, and nothing will faze you. It’s not that you don’t notice, of course you notice, if you went around blatantly ignoring things like this, you’d be dead and thus no longer living in London. You just… you just learn to absorb things like this and move on.

On That Note by theinkwell33 (G)

In which Basil, who has sold theater tickets in London for many years, notes with increasing distress that a certain Mr. Fell has never stayed to the end of a performance of The Sound of Music. And his friend (or perhaps enemy?) Mr. Crowley, seems to be of no help whatsoever in this matter. Or rather, Aziraphale has a long history with evading The Sound of Music, and someone decides it's about time he saw the whole thing.

Soho's Very Own Patron Saint *Cough* Cryptid *Cough* by Watermelonsmellinfellon (M)

Honey and her wife Lemon had become a part of the queer culture of Soho, and in doing so, had become part of the best - or worst, it really depends on who's asking - hidden secret ever. Soho had its very own queer cryptid! A Mr. Ezra Fell who had a spouse just as mysterious as he was, and who had been around for a very long time, inspiring the queer youth just by being himself. Honey has made the choice to digitally record this discovery for future queer people to find comfort in, because it is a story that should be shared, but only with those who will respect it.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #outsider pov #cryptid aziraphale #cryptid crowley #mod d #cryptids

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Whumptober Day 11: (Alternative Prompt) Stabbed

Summary:

“Maybe I should have gone to a real piercing place,” Tim says. He gulps at the width of the needle.

“A real piercer would charge you a million bucks for this. I’m doing it for free, like the good friend I am.”

“You forget that I’m literally a billionaire.”

“Yeah, but would you rather have some stranger’s hands in your mouth?” Steph gags exaggeratedly. “I’m not doing anything that a trained professional wouldn’t be doing, anyway. You’re in good hands.”

That doesn’t make Tim feel any better, considering that Steph’s laptop is sitting open on the toilet lid with the WikiHow page for “How to Pierce Your Tongue” open in the first tab.

#she's such a good friend <3 if a little deranged #whumptober2022 #whumptober #stephanie brown #spoiler #batgirl #robin #tim drake #red robin #idiot duckboy #bernard dowd #timber #timsteph #soho writes stuff #dc comics #batfamily #batfam

[sohoscribblers]

A Deeper Dive into First Person POV

by @adeptdragonfruit54

What is First person POV more specifically?

First-person perspective is a storytelling technique that narrates the story from the POV of a single character, usually the protagonist but sometimes it can be a side character linked to the protagonist. If it’s the protagonist telling the story, you’ll see the pronoun “I.”  In this form of storytelling, the story unfolds through the eyes, internal thoughts, and emotions of the “I” narrator. It’s a very intimate form of storytelling that lets the character speak directly to the reader or even lets the reader feel that they are the narrator. In the “I” form of storytelling, the reader is looking through the eyes of the protagonist directly and experiencing everything without the filter of the author as narrator.

For example:

Consider the last scene in Season 2 of Good Omens on Amazon Prime when Aziraphale turns his head away from Crowley to hide his emotions/tears. Let’s write that in first person and then third person.

First person POV Aziraphale:  “You idiot, we could have been us,” Crowley said to me. Words jammed in my throat and creased my brow as I looked my companion of many long years. A half motion toward him and a half motion away repeated several times indecisively made my body rock back and forth. Hot tears welled in my eyes. Finally, the waves of emotion became too unbearable. I turned my face away quickly to stifle the cry of pain that threaten to break from my throat as a single tear rolled from the corner of my eye. But as quickly as the tear could slip from my eye, I heard Crowley’s light footsteps cross the space between us and felt him grab the lapels of my jacket.  And then his mouth was on mine, hot and demanding an answer; demanding that I understand what he was trying to say.

Third Person POV:  “You idiot, we could have been us,” said Crowley. He paused a moment, hoping for some affirmative response, or any response from the angel.  Aziraphale looked at him with a creased brow, his shoulders rocking first toward the demon and then away as if undecided which way to move. Crowley watched this indecisive little movement, hoping against hope that his angel would decide to move to him in the end, but his hopes were dashed when Aziraphale simply turned his head away and refused to look at him further or to speak. Then, in one final, desperate act, Crowley closed the space between them.  He latched onto Aziraphale’s collar and kissed him, trying to communicate all his love and need and desperation into that one single human act. He demanded with his lips that Aziraphale understand everything that words had failed to convey. He hoped for a Vavoom.

Advantages of first person

The most obvious advantage of using first person POV is that it establishes an immediate rapport between the reader and the narrator and lets the reader form a deep connection with the character.  You can really explore a character’s growth and viewpoints throughout a story using this perspective.  Second, it can lend the story credibility which if you’re going for the angle of an unreliable narrator can be useful for misdirection. The trust between a first-person narrator and reader can be built by using a narrator who lies and then later broken when the truth is revealed.  Another big advantage of narrating in the first person is that you can express an opinion.  A great example of this is To Kill a Mockingbird.  The narrator is six-year-old Scout and the opinions being explored are bias and racial prejudice in the American south. Finally, as a writer, you can also use multiple first person POVs to express different character views and opinions and tell the story from many viewpoints. This can be an interesting tool for building intrigue in the story if each person telling it only knows part of the story at any given moment.

Continue on AO3

#good omens #scribblers of soho #writer stuff #new writers corner #writers doing research #writerscommunity #creative writing #writing #writers toolbox

[0tivez]

Hii! This is my first time giving a request, so if I do anything wrong, I'm sorry. Well, I wanted to ask if you could write about Geto being with an artistic s/o. Also, I love the way you write him, so keep going on!!! Thank youu (　＾ω＾)🩷

note: hi anon! so sorry for the late response, school has been hell for a while. thank you for your kind words! it really keeps me going! hopefully i can deliver more suguru stuff soon <3

characters: geto

warnings: none, fluff

<- navigation

⁜ i've always thought geto would be artistic and stylish in a non-curses au (que the tattoo artist geto fanarts)

⁜ so i can imagine him being the it couple with an artistic gf (me that's me)

⁜ he'd be very supportive and interested in your art, that goes without saying. geto is very attentive when it comes to his partners, he knows every small detail about you

⁜ he'd encourage you to go beyond your comfort zone and develop your own style

⁜ you'd be working on a new project and find suguru watching you endearingly

⁜ PAINTING DATES!!!!!!! AT THE PARK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WITH WHITE WINE AND STRAWBERRIES!!!!!!!'!!!!!

⁜ he is for sure your muse, but not as much as you are his. whether he is an artist of some sort or not, you are forever his insipiration for anything he does. you honestly affect his life much more than you could imagine. he looks up at you a lot, no matter the age

⁜ you two met at an art gallery

⁜ he follows plays and exhibitions to surprise you

⁜ he'll allow you to paint on his bare back. it's honestly very sexy

⁜ surprisingly, he never asked you to draw him. in his mind, he thinks pushing you to do something before it comes to you naturally restricts your art, but for you, you feel like he doesn't like your style. imagine how surprised you are when you find out he had every picture of your pieces in an album on his phone, and imagine his surprise when he finds out a whole widespread full of sketches of him

⁜ he'd happily let you design a tattoo

⁜ buys you supplies before you run out

⁜ although he's your number 1 supporter, there are times where he's overwhelmed with your artistic crisises lol

⁜ constantly makes fun of the stereotypical daddy's money obnoxious lives in a penthouse in soho arty marties that hit on you

⁜ very knowledgable about art history

⁜ his favorite time of the day is when he comes back home from work to find you working on a project in your room with low lights and a faint music heard from the background. it takes away the stress for him and suddenly he forgets all about his problems for the day

thank you for reading! sorry this is short, but i felt like i was going off track so i decided to keep it simple. hope you all enjoyed it!!

#suguru geto #geto #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk headcanons #jjk hcs #geto fluff #suguru geto fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #geto suguru #geto suguru fluff #geto suguru imagine #sweet

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

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

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

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

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

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

What has changed between Crowley and Aziraphale?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#good omens #totalfilm #totalfilm 2023 #interview #neil gaiman #neil interview #david tennant #david interview #magazines #michael sheen #michael interview #nina sosanya #nina interview #maggie service #maggie ineterview #s2 interview #transcripts

[trashboatprince]

For the writing meme aziraphale crowley with "I've got your back, ok?" please?

Sounds good! :D

On with the fic!

--

"Crowley!" Aziraphale shouted in distress when the addressed demon waltzed into the shop. "Oh, Crowley, I need your help!"

Crowley blinked slowly behind his shades, stopping in his task of heading for the back room. "Uh, what's the matter? Did someone touch one of your first editions with sticky fingers?"

"No, no! It's not that, it's just..." Aziraphale looked antsy, pacing in a small circle. Crowley waited patiently, knowing that it was best to let the angel gather his thoughts before speaking again.

Aziraphale stopped, let out a small breath, then turned to face him, frowning deeply. "I made a mistake."

"A mistake."

"Yes, you see, I tend to schedule things for myself, events for the month, what days some of my favorite restaurants want me to stop by for taste testing, when Maggie wants to have tea with me while we listen to her record collection, all that!"

Crowley nodded, gesturing for him to continue. "Right, well, I noticed my schedule for today at half past two is the auction. You know the one, I was telling you about it."

"The one with those books and manuscripts from the Eastern Mediterranean, yes?"

Aziraphale's pleased smile made Crowley's insides feel like melted butter on fresh bread. "Oh, you were listening! Anyway, yes, well, I had already planned to go to the auction to obtain some of the items, or at least try my hand at getting them. I've got my eyes on a certain manuscript..."

"But?"

"But I had made a huge mistake! At the exact same time, I'm meant to be dealing with new clientele on this street, and I'm the landlord of the building! I had mistaken the date, I had thought it was next month, but no, it's today, and I can't change it on that young couple. They're looking forward to opening up their bakery of... well..." A blush came over his face for a second. "It certainly fits the spirit of SoHo and its history with adult... enjoyments."

Crowley grinned. "An erotic bakery? Cute. So, what's the problem?"

"I can't cancel on them, the meeting is to be done today so they can get started with renovations for the shop as soon as possible. And the auction is only today, once the sells are done, they're done!"

The demon crossed his arms, tilting his head. "Sooooo... it's either do your job, or go and blow your money on rare goods?"

"You make it sound like a bad thing..."

"No, no, I'm just thinkin' aloud." Crowley rolled his head. "Alright, I'll help. You wanna do the auction and I do the landlord thing?"

Aziraphale's smile could rival the sun's brightness. "Y-you'd do it? Really?"

"'s no problem, angel, I've had to do the landlord thing for you a few times in the past, remember? I think I helped with setting up the lease for that one shop, that music guy, the one that likes Doctor Who. Remember? You had to do that mission in Canada."

"Ah, yes, I remember! Oh, thank you, so much!"

"Eh, don't thank me. I've got your back, okay? Like I always do, just take me to that nice wine bar later tonight in return, yeah?"

"Of course, of course." Aziraphale said, still smiling, before grabbing Crowley's hands, giving them a squeeze. "You are simply the best, Crowley, how can I ever repay you?"

Crowley made a noise with his throat that sounded like a vacuum that sucked up something it shouldn't have. He turned his head away, not wanting to look at that beautiful face. "W-wine bar! That's enough of a thanksssss! Now, go get yourself dolled up, you've got some ancient nerd stuff to purchase."

--

I dunno why I picked erotic bakery, but it's SoHo, and canonically Aziraphale's shop is right next to an adult shop. Oh, and Mrs. Sandwich works there and we all know what sort of business she runs. :)

#good omens #crowley #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #john's drabbles