#american god
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Me: I shouldn't disturb Neil Gaiman. I shouldn't send an ask unless I really have no way of getting the information otherwise. I'll check old interviews and all the articles that vaguely mention the subject. Of course it goes without saying that I'll read though the FAQ in its entirety. Only then, will I send an ask. However, I'd be very polite and praise his work, as anyone would. I'd also keep it short, because I don't want to waste his time. But I'd keep it very very respectful. I'd be sending a message to a very talented, amazing author that deals with god knows how many like me. Or I'd just stay in the dark and not send him an ask. Yeah, I'll do that.
My Dash:
#neil gaiman#good omens fandom#aziraphale#american gods#the graveyard book#coraline#coraline book#the graveyard#good omens#gomens#good omemes#crowley#anthony j crowley#go season 2#good omens 2#archangel aziraphale#aziracrow#ineffable husbands#ineffable idiots#ineffable spouses#ineffable divorce#good omens book#good omens shitpost#go shitpost#bildad the shuhite#michael sheen#david tennant#<-because they're in good omens#make good art
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ladies, gentlemen, everyone in between, may I present…
MR NEIL GAIMAN!!!!!
@neil-gaiman
#neil gaiman#young neil#good omens#aziraphale#crowley#david tennant#michael sheen#ineffable husbands#coraline#american gods#norse mythology
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Ricky Whittle American Gods, 2017 - Season 02, Episode 4: "The Greatest Story Ever Told"
#ricky whittle#american gods#gifs#vietlad#filmgifs#userpedro#usermichi#usermack#gaybuckybarnes#userdaniel#userflex#holesrus#userluis#userdylan#userjimholden#userviet
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the fact that eric kripke isn't even christian really adds something to the way christianity is depicted on supernatural. because its really not about being christian at all, but about living in america, a country dominated by christianity, and having to decide for yourself how to handle that. faith is huge in supernatural, and the mythology of the show is very bible-centric, but notably, christ is never there. even sam, who starts out revering the angels, who once said he prays every night, doesn't actually call himself a christian or imply that he believes in jesus--the show is steeped in christianity and biblical lore and yet neither sam nor dean are christians. in fact, over and over again the church itself is depicted as a haunted house that sam and dean will only ever enter as strangers, as outsiders. priests, preachers, faith healers, chapels, crypts, etc. are all just iconography that create an intense sense of unease that sam and dean respond to instantly. as a jew, its very relatable. an essential part of living in america when you're not christian is that exact sense of unease, of knowing that the culture of your country has ensured that you'll get knocked over by christianity no matter where you go, that you'll see hundreds of people truly believing they're good people while doing awful things in the name of their god, and you have no choice but to confront that. kripke gets it
#i could actually write an essay about this#kripke is jewish and so is sera gamble#and when i rly think about it i think the show is very jewish#in that its a rejection of the christian interpretation of god and free will#its all about questioning what's put in front of you and i think that's a big part being jewish to me#anyway!#rambles#spn#supernatural#spn analysis#spn meta#faith#christianity#theology#kripke era#eric kripke#sam winchester#dean winchester#castiel#zachariah spn#uriel spn#anna milton#american gothic#fav#🔪#containment breach
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#alana champion#american girl#black swan#gaslight gatekeep girlboss#girlblog#girlblogger#girlblogging#lana del ray aka lizzy grant#lana del rey#lana is god#this is a girlblog#lana del ray moodboard#lana del ray aesthetic#locally hated#lana unreleased#lana del slay#lizzy grant#just girly posts#manic pixie dream girl#sylvia plath#just girly thoughts#female rage#girl interupted syndrome#the virgin suicides#waifspo#waif#coquette aesthetic#im just a girl#girl boss gaslight gatekeep#female manipulator
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i’ll rot with you, my dear.
#aesthetic photography#farmers daughter#female hysteria#female rage#girl interrupted#photography inspiration#southern gothic#american gothic#ethel cain#gothic americana#southern goth aesthetic#cult of the lamb#religious trauma#god loves you#god loves you but not enough to save you#preachers daughter#vintage#antlers
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More of Stanley's sketchbook because he makes me sick /pos
(Just imagine he was looking in a mirror at the subway to draw this anshfhwj. The london bus ticket is unrelated, it's just a random knick knack he had lying around<3)
People weren't the only ones Stan met on the streets.
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+ this is an absolute fucking batshit WILD oneshot I initially wrote for these drawings that got WAY out of hand, if you feel like reading that.
The oneshot below is a stand-alone now, and in no way is related to the drawings above, but I just wanted to show you guys because Jesus Christ
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Winter of 1981, at a subway station Stan doesn't remember the name of-
The sorry excuse of a transport system that this hellhole of a city called a functioning subway was hardly anyone's first choice of a warm place to stay the night. And yet, here Stanley was; standing like an idiot in the middle of a small bustling stairwell that led down to the full screeching chaos of a train stop on a Tuesday evening. A rowdy crowd of exhausted office workers streamed out like a tidal wave from the entrance of the station, the bustle of their footsteps all too eager to go home and relax after a long day of work.
The faint, stuffy stench of old piss and sweat followed the crowd to the surface from the deep depths of a less than sanitary and overcrowded train station. The pungent smell intermingled with the crisp stinging winter air in a cocktail of shitty city gloom often associated with this time of the year; when the holidays were too far away and the sun seemed to come and go with practically the same 9 to 5 schedule as the workers had, leaving them going to work in the pitch dark and coming back out in the inky black as well.
He might have looked like he belonged there, depending on how one would want to look at it. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of prim, pressed suits and neart uniforms. His ratty old jacket and generally unwashed appearance certainly didn’t help his case, but he also knew that stations like these also tended to shelter quite a number of homeless wanderers like him, especially during the winter. So, it wasn't exactly uncommon to see other sore thumbs seeking reprieve from the biting cold and the dangerous likelihood of frostbite from within the enclosed walls of the subway station.
Heck, if most of these underground kingdoms didn't also happen to be a breeding ground for several illicit activities, he might even have followed their lead. But, believe it or not, Stanley's already had enough experience with illegal activities to last him a last time, and he isn't looking for a new fill. He was satisfied with what meager shelter his trusty car offered him, as little a difference it might make in terms of safety.
Stanley's obstruction of the already narrow stairs with his loitering went unappreciated, as shoulders roughly shoved past him and swinging briefcases repeatedly bumped into his sides, usually coupled with a nasty glare and a snide comment or two. He paid them no mind, however. He wasn't here to start a fight with some random bum with a dead end job, as much as he thought it would probably do them both some good to duke their stresses out on one another.
The hours ticked by with wave after wave of new crowds being dropped off by a train and left to pour out of the station into the streets. By the time the streetlights turned on and the pale pink in the sky slowly faded to make way for the stark glittery black of the night sky, the tide of people had slowed to a trickle and rush hour was long since over. He was now the stairs’ sole occupier, with a few occasional stragglers stumbling up the steps and hurrying past him without a second glance.
Stanley did not move from his spot, however. He stood resolutely in the middle of the stairway, fervently rubbing his arms and stamping his feet in a futile attempt to try and regain feeling in his extremities as he waited. Rocking on his heels, he titled his head backwards to let his eyes roam the constellations that carpeted the endless expanse of the sky stretched out above his head, almost losing himself in the scintillating canvas of stars.
It reminded him of old times; of the sparkling beach sand twinkling in the dim moonlight, and the soft sound of lilting waves hovering in the background as he lay back on the cold wooden deck of his ship and watched the stars dance.
He still remembered every name his brother had once recited to him time and time again as he pointed out each star and galaxy from the night sky.
Then, like clockwork, he was broken out of his reveries by a telltale meow coming from below. The sound was a familiar blanket that immediately melted away the tension that had begun to build in his chest as he practically sagged with relief.
His body moved almost automatically as he leaned down to detach the frail tabby cat that was attempting to literally fuse with his legs, purring up a storm and rubbing her head against his pants as though her life depended on it. The cat gave a soft chirrup of dissatisfaction at being manhandled, which Stanley absentmindedly replied with a chiding click of his tongue as he lifted her up his chest and gently tucked her into his jacket in a practiced motion.
She thankfully remained blissfully limp in his grasp as he shifted around some more so that she was nestled comfortably inside the dark pocket of warmth inside his ratty jacket. The tiny warm lump that rumbled contently against his front radiated with heat, and his fingers finally began to feel like actual fingers rather than useless stiff frigid lumps of meat and bone attached to his palms.
A pointed cough startled him from his clumsy wriggling to get the cat to settle down. An oddly familiar security guard stood at the entrance of the station at the bottom of the stairs, leveling Stanley an unimpressed look with the metal gate in his grip already halfway closed, ready to seal the subway for the night. He must have been a comical sight; caught awkwardly bent over while trying to get his newly acquired cat to stop kneading biscuits on his stomach, with said cat peeking out from the gap between his collars.
Stanley faintly recognized the guard. He was a much older man, with a shock of thinning white hair neatly tucked underneath a dark blue cap and a strange depth in his eyes that reminded Stanley of the sea; with countless unspoken truths lurking far beneath the surface, but no less grand and knowing of all that the universe had to offer, as though he had already lived a thousand lives before this one.
He had seen the man around before, at another station, doing the opposite of his job by ushering stray buskers and homeless stragglers from the streets and into the (relatively) safe walls of the subway, instead of doing what any other law-abiding security guard would do and kick them out into the elements. He wasn't sure what the older man was doing here, of all places, since all the previous stations he'd seen the man at had been several states over, practically on the other side of the country.
A brief spark of panic shot through his spine at the thought that this man could be following him, but he quickly discarded the ridiculous notion as soon as it entered his mind. He had never even seen him before, and hardly ever even interacted with him; there was no reason for there to be any sort of bad blood between them. Unless he happened to be related to one of Stanley's many, many enemies, then perhaps his fear was a little warranted.
However, the old guard made no move to attack or do anything other than stare judgmentally, almost expectantly. For the first time in a long time, Stanley felt like a child being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. He tried his best to keep his uncomfortable squirming to a minimum under the unrelenting gaze, stubbornly returning the man's gaze with his own wary glare. His cat’s muffled whining came from inside his jacket. The traitor, she was leaving him to deal with the old man on his own.
With an exasperated jerk of his head, the security guard gestured towards the inside of the station. For a moment, Stanley stared dumbly, uncomprehending of what the old man could possibly want from him. Rolling his eyes, this time the man gestured more insistently at the small gap that still remained between the metal gate and the entrance, his arm sweeping the air in a low arc as he dramatically urged Stanley inside. Suddenly, it clicked, and Stanley shook his head.
“I have a car,” he said plainly, his voice echoing loudly in the desolate silence of the winter night that surrounded the unlikely pair.
He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, it wasn't as though he was lying. He did have a car, his trusty Stanley-mobile was parked safely away in the corner of an unassuming alley that wasn't often frequented by anyone. There was no way he was reaching it tonight, though; it was practically on the other side of the city, much too far away for him to arrive at a reasonable time. His nightly excursions to meet his small friend unfortunately left him with no other choice than to leave his car behind, the hunk of metal far too unwieldy and noticeable to drive around openly on the streets. He never knew who could be watching, after all.
He had simply been hoping to find himself a dark corner to tuck himself into with his cat, just for the night, but it seemed as though the universe had other plans. Or rather, this strange old man had other plans.
Although, if Stanley thought about it, the subway wasn't such a bad suggestion. This was one of the safer stations in the city; and with the rich neighborhoods being so close by, no rogue criminal or dealers dared to come near this area unless they wanted to be slapped with a hefty fine or face a higher potential to be arrested. And of course, there was the obvious shelter from the unrelenting cold that now seemed to permeate his bones, even with the purring warmth that was nestled inside his jacket.
So, that was how he found himself hunkering down for the night inside a shabby old subway station, with a satisfied cat still rumbling away against his chest and a strange old security guard locking down the gates behind him. The man said nothing as he hooked his keys back onto his belt and gave a firm pat on Stanley's shoulders as he walked past him, pausing to scratch his cat behind her ears before moving away. His footsteps bounced off of the grimy tiled walls with an odd reverb as he turned a corner.
“You'll be safe in here,” the man said, voice sage and gravelly. The words had a weight to them, and seemed to hang in the air with such a presence it was as though the old man had never even left his side.
The subway was empty, quiet. It was such a stark contrast to the loud rowdiness of the rush hour crowd these halls once held. Stanley hadn't yet registered the utter silence of the station as he aimlessly made his way down the winding, deserted halls of the ancient station. He mindlessly walked past the aged and peeling advertising posters plastered on the walls, his nose becoming accustomed to the stinging stench of the subway. The quiet seemed to swallow the sound of his steps as he explored the branching paths and endless tunnels. They were almost kaleidoscopic, dizzying, nonsensical. There were doors where there shouldn't be, and deadends where it didn't make sense.
The silence only began to truly settle in his bones the more he walked. He suddenly wished that he would head the telltale footsteps of the old security guard again, just to hear another sign of life in this underground hellscape other than himself. The ghostly memories of screeching trains and bustling crowds haunted the halls; now, only nothingness reigned supreme. He glanced down at his small feline companion, who slumbered away against his chest, blissfully unaware of his jackrabbiting heartbeat threatening to burst out of his ribs. The silence seemed to permeate every inch of space and crush the air out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe.
Stanley’s steps grew faster, more frantic as the walls and ceilings seemed to close in on him. They grew smaller, tighter; squeezing, trapping. He hardly even registered his cat's complaints as she was jostled around in his grasp, breaking into a full out run. His breathing sounded loud, too loud, and the world was collapsing around him.
When he finally broke out into a large, open platform, he could finally breathe again. He had arrived at the tracks, the empty tunnel where the trains would pass an empty, gaping maw in the wall that seemed to swallow all light around it and beckon him closer. He felt his cat wriggle out from within his jacket and hop out with a displeasured yowl, scampering away and disappearing behind a corner much like the old man had. True silence pierced his ears and thrummed like a deafening pressure in his temples. He was alone.
Stanley was stuck in that subway station for years.
#i only have the Paris and Korean subways as frame reference so i have no idea what american subways look like#just imagine the paris subway system- i heavily used it as a reference to draw and write these since it's#the only subway that I know AND looks 1980-ish enough to pass#gravity falls#gravity falls fanart#gravity falls fanfiction#gravity falls au#<-ig???#there are mirrors in subways right- I've seen a lot of curved wall length mirrors at subway stations#stanley pines#stan pines#grunkle stan#stanley's sketchbook#tw liminal space#tw horror#<- I mean eh- my horror writing skills is sub par at best#cats#tw scopophobia#tw staring#on the other hand- stanley being friends with street cats!! so cute <33#you can visibly SEE in the fic where I completely lost my grip on the story from 'sweet story about cats' to 'oh my god what the fuck'#my art
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im not american but some of you guys are just fucking stupid ong what do you MEAN youre not gna vote because you disagree with like one part of what youre voting for. like okay me when im fucking thick
#you guys are being FUCKING STUPUD#vote i actually swear to fucking god dont be THICK#“genocide joe” yeah i agree hes supporting a genocide thats a face#fact*#but hes three billion times better than trump in EVERY OTHER WAY???????#USE YOUR COMMON FUCKING SENSE#genuinely its not hard#“dont vote guys both parties are bad” ARE YOU STUUUUUUPID ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID IM GONNA BEAT YOU UP#would you rather a) have rights + disagree with one policy or b) be imprisoned for basically just being alive + disagree with every policy#YOURE FUCKING STUPID#like im not gonna force you to vote for someone or to vote at all but Jesus fucking christ#mate do you want rights or not#do you want the ENTIRE PLANET to suffer because of something you think gives you moral superiority (hint: IT DOESNT)#fucking vote#blah blah!#not 75 stuff#smart posting wow#should i tag#you know what i fucking am because youre STUPID#i dont CARE if you disagree with some of their morals. i agree the ones that you dislike are TERRIBLE but dear fucking lord#idk how to tag wait#kamala harris#joe biden#idk man#just fucking vote#us politics#election 2024#us elections#american politics
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It would be beneficial for everyone involved if folks online did not speculate on the validity of the accusations against Neil Gaiman. Victims are often brushed off because the accused “could never do something like that” and sadly there has been times in the past where accusations have been false. It is not our place to theorize on whether or not these accusations are true, all that does is spread paranoia and pain.
My heart goes out to the victims, I hope that this is resolved soon and that those involved can start to heal from this horrible situation.
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What other Neil Gaiman work might you like?
The biggest thing to know about Neil Gaiman is that each work of his is a mixture of horror, fantasy, and subtle comedy.
That being said, each of his projects is pretty distinct from one another and there might be some that are more up to your tastes than others.
I haven't read some of his newer stuff (because I largely stopped reading as much since the early 2010s), but I'll do my best to remember what matters in other works.
Horror
The Sandman is a great work for horror fans. It's also great for mythology fans and other nerds, but horror is a major push and pull factors.
The comic is probably the greatest body of work Gaiman produced and it's recommended if you're a goth at heart and are comfortable with themes of death and humans being gods' toys.
The Sandman (TV) is a great adaptation, but it's very short so far and doesn't cover the best stories.
Coraline is a horror story for children. It doesn't have anything that's not suitable for kids, but it can be viscerally scary to some people. Both the book and the film are great.
Mirrormask is my personal favourite, it's a low budget film with mindblowing surreal imagery and one of the best soundtracks ever.
It's about a teenage girl who has troubles with her parents (who run a circus, btw) and who gets swiped up by her imagination into a bizarre world that is being eaten by her depression. Not a scary film, per se, but it's disturbing. However, it's a very warm film and it always makes me feel better.
Fantasy
Neverwhere is set in a dimension of twisted London Underground where everything that's straightforward in our world becomes weird and too real.
It really tickled my imagination, I highly recommend the book.
Stardust is set in a more high fantasy setting.
It features kings, witches, ghosts, and a star that fell to the Earth. It has a young protagonist who's not exactly the best or the brightest person, so if you hate such things, stick to the adaptation. In my opinion, the book is just lovely.
American Gods is a darker fantasy that asks the questions: "What if every god people ever believed in became real through the power of their worship? And then what if that worship started fading?"
It's set in the USA and because that country is such a melting pot, there are many gods. And not all of them are happy. This is the book that gave Neil Gaiman his reputation of a writer who loves weird sex scenes.
Humour
Stardust the film is often compared to Princess Bride. It's lighthearted, funny, full of imaginative adventures.
Just a very nice film with an all-star cast.
Anansi Boys is a spin off of American Gods, but it's a lot more lighthearted.
Anansi is a trickster god, so you know things will get funky.
I haven't read The Graveyard Book and The Ocean at the End of the Lane yet, but I hear they're very good as well.
Also, short story collections or Norse Mythology might be a good place to start if you want to get a feel of Neil Gaiman as an author first.
#neil gaiman#book recommendations#neverwhere#stardust#mirrormask#anansi boys#coraline#the sandman#american gods
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collection (2016)
#abandoned#abandoned by god#vintage painting#rural aesthetic#rural gothic#photo dump#older paintings#vintage photography#southern goth aesthetic#appalachian gothic#southern gothic#american gothic#rural america#americano#you tasted love and it tasted sweet#pure beauty#occultism
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#trump#donald trump#trump 2024#he must be doing something right!#current events#they keep trying to kill him and he keeps surviving#god bless#trump assassination attempt#trump assassination attempt number 2#golf course#news#america#world events#us elections#election 2024#american politics#God bless Donald Trump#fight#MAGA#Protect Trump#murder has no place in politics#so leftists may need to exit politics stage left if they're going to keep trying to kill people because they don't agree with them LOL#murdering someone because you don't agree with them is wrong#DUH
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happy pride to all queer children of immigrants
patreon
#muertodraws#queer art#queer comic#lgbtq#pride#trans artist#qtpoc#trans art#transgender#transmasc#mlm#if youre a queer child of immigrants you deserve free lifelong therapy#this comic was originally going to be a “i feel like a freak” cuz im trans and people dont know what to do with me#and then it turned into like. oh god this experience is compounded by your complicted relationship to uhh well#being mexican and a child of immigrants#i was originally going to add a quote from a jose marti poem but idk i didnt want this to get too long#i think if i did that i would prolly attract the attention of latine purists and nationalists lmfaooo#i already have people who dont even believe im mexican much less a child of immigrants much less a man#the most common hate i get now is that im a confused white woman gringa who isnt latin american#besides the transphobia im just like. have you ever heard of a diaspora#anyway#hope someone enjoys this
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Nothing makes me laugh more on this website than when someone asks Neil Gaiman a very millennial/gen-z/chronically online question about his works, (like, the ones about shipping wars and label discourse) and he’s just like “I have literally never thought of doing that, no.”
I know it must be at least a little bit embarrassing for the asker but, like, some of them are so outlandish that I just can’t comprehend what prompted the person to ask it.
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#locally hated#lana is god#lana del ray aka lizzy grant#lizzy grant#lana del rey#lana del ray aesthetic#coquette#coquette aesthetic#coquette dollete#female manipulator#manic pixie dream girl#gaslight gatekeep girlboss#girl boss gaslight gatekeep#girlblogger#girlblog#american girl#girlblogging#american girl dolls#this is a girlblog#just girly things#just girly thoughts#just girly posts#alana champion#black swan#girl interrupted#girl interupted syndrome#the virgin suicides#gone girl#waifspo#waif
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#girl blogger#girl blog#girl interrupted#girlblogging#lana del ray aesthetic#lizzy grant#lana del rey#coquette#daddy's good girl#daddy’s babygirl#girl core#hell is a teenage girl#cinnamon girl#im just a girl#girlhood#coquette dollete#k!nk community#coqeutte#coqette#american lolita#dollete aesthetic#dollcore#dolly aesthetic#dollblr#lana del ray aka lizzy grant#lana stan#lana is god#lana core#lana del slay#lana unreleased
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