#he was really good neil you were really good whole time i thought by some miracle mr perry liked the play

[ace-with--a-mace]

mr neils father pls compliment your son tell him he was amazing pls he was so good

[mollyrealized]

How Michael Met Neil

original direct link [MP3]

(Neil, if you see this, please feel free to grab the transcript and store on your site; I had no easy way of contacting you.)

DAVID TENNANT: Tell me about @neil-gaiman then, because he's in that category [previously: “such a profound effect on my life”] as well.

MICHAEL SHEEN: So this is what has brought us together.

DAVID: Yes.

MICHAEL: To the new love story for the 21st century.

DAVID: Exactly.

MICHAEL: So when I went to drama school, there was a guy called Gary Turner in my year. And within the first few weeks, we were doing something, having a drink or whatever. And he said to me, “Do you read comic books?”

And I said, “No.”  I mean, this is … what … '88?  '88, '89.  So it was … now I know that it was a period of time that was a big change, transformation going through comic books.  Rather than it being thought of as just superheroes and Batman and Superman, there was this whole new era of a generation of writers like Grant Morrison.

DAVID: The kids who'd grown up reading comic books were now making comic books

MICHAEL: Yeah, yeah, and starting to address different kinds of subjects through the comic book medium. So it wasn't about just superheroes, it was all kinds of stuff going on – really fascinating stuff. And I was totally unaware of this.

And so this guy Gary said to me, "Do you read them?" And I said, "No."  And he went, "Right, okay, here's The Watchman [sic] by Alan Moore. Here's Swamp Thing. Here's Hellblazer. And here's Sandman.”

And Sandman was Neil Gaiman's big series that put his name on the map. And I read all those, and, just – I was blown away by all of them, but particularly the Sandman stories, because he was drawing on mythology, which was something I was really interested in, and fairy tales, folklore, and philosophy, and Shakespeare, and all kinds of stuff were being mixed up in this story.  And I absolutely loved it.

So I became a big fan of Neil's, and started reading everything by him. And then fairly shortly after that, within six months to a year, Good Omens the book came out, which Neil wrote with Terry Pratchett. And so I got the book – because I was obviously a big fan of Neil's by this point – read it, loved it, then started reading Terry Pratchett’s stuff as well, because I didn't know his stuff before then – and then spent years and years and years just being a huge fan of both of them.

And then eventually when – I'd done films like the Underworld films and doing Twilight films. And I think it was one of the Twilight films, there was a lot of very snooty interviews that happened where people who considered themselves well above talking about things like Twilight were having to interview me … and, weirdly, coming at it from the attitude of 'clearly this is below you as well' … weirdly thinking I'm gonna go, 'Yeah, fucking Twilight.”

And I just used to go, "You know what? Some of the greatest writing of the last 50-100 years has happened in science fiction or fantasy."  Philip K Dick is one of my favorite writers of all time. In fact, the production of Hamlet I did was mainly influenced by Philip K Dick.  Ursula K. Le Guin and Asimov, and all these amazing people. And I talked about Neil as well. And so I went off on a bit of a rant in this interview.

Anyway, the interview came out about six months later, maybe.  Knock on the door, open the door, delivery of a big box. That’s interesting. Open the box, there's a card at the top of the box. I open the card.

It says, From one fan to another, Neil Gaiman.  And inside the box are first editions of Neil's stuff, and all kinds of interesting things by Neil. And he just sent this stuff.

DAVID: You'd never met him?

MICHAEL: Never met him. He'd read the interview, or someone had let him know about this interview where I'd sung his praises and stood up for him and the people who work within that sort of genre as being like …

And he just got in touch. We met up for the first time when he came to – I was in Los Angeles at the time, and he came to LA.  And he said, "I'll take you for a meal."

I said, “All right.”

He said, "Do you want to go somewhere posh, or somewhere interesting?”

I said, "Let's go somewhere interesting."

He said, "Right, I'm going to take you to this restaurant called The Hump." And it's at Santa Monica Airport. And it's a sushi restaurant.

I was like, “Right, okay.” So I had a Mini at the time. And we get in my Mini and we drive off to Santa Monica Airport. And this restaurant was right on the tarmac, like, you could sit in the restaurant (there's nobody else there when we got there, we got there quite early) and you're watching the planes landing on Santa Monica Airport. It's extraordinary. 

And the chef comes out and Neil says, "Just bring us whatever you want. Chef's choice."

So, I'd never really eaten sushi before. So we sit there; we had this incredible meal where they keep bringing these dishes out and they say, “This is [blah, blah, blah]. Just use a little bit of soy sauce or whatever.”  You know, “This is eel.  This is [blah].”

And then there was this one dish where they brought out and they didn't say what it was. It was like “mystery dish”, we had it ... delicious. Anyway, a few more people started coming into the restaurant as time went on.

And we're sort of getting near the end, and I said, "Neil, I can't eat anymore. I'm gonna have to stop now. This is great, but I can't eat–"

"Right, okay. We'll ask for the bill in a minute."

And then the door opens and some very official people come in. And it was the Feds. And the Feds came in, and we knew they were because they had jackets on that said they were part of the Federal Bureau of Whatever. And about six of them come in. Two of them go … one goes behind the counter, two go into the kitchen, one goes to the back. They've all got like guns on and stuff.

And me and Neil are like, "What on Earth is going on?"

And then eventually one guy goes, "Ladies and gentlemen, if you haven't ordered already, please leave. If you're still eating your meal, please finish up, pay your bill, leave."*

[* - delivered in a perfect American ‘serious law agent’ accent/impression]

And we were like, "Oh my God, are we poisoned? Is there some terrible thing that's happened?"  

We'd finished, so we pay our bill.  And then all the kitchen staff are brought out. And the head chef is there. The guy who's been bringing us this food. And he's in tears. And he says to Neil, "I'm so sorry." He apologizes to Neil.  And we leave. We have no idea what happened.

DAVID: But you're assuming it's the mystery dish.

MICHAEL: Well, we're assuming that we can't be going to – we can't be –  it can't be poisonous. You know what I mean? It can't be that there's terrible, terrible things.

So the next day was the Oscars, which is why Neil was in town. Because Coraline had been nominated for an Oscar. Best documentary that year was won by The Cove, which was by a team of people who had come across dolphins being killed, I think.

Turns out, what was happening at this restaurant was that they were having illegal endangered species flown in to the airport, and then being brought around the back of the restaurant into the kitchen.

We had eaten whale – endangered species whale. That was the mystery dish that they didn't say what it was.

And the team behind The Cove were behind this sting, and they took them down that night whilst we were there.

DAVID: That’s extraordinary.

MICHAEL: And we didn't find this out for months.  So for months, me and Neil were like, "Have you worked anything out yet? Have you heard anything?"

"No, I haven't heard anything."

And then we heard that it was something to do with The Cove, and then we eventually found out that that restaurant, they were all arrested. The restaurant was shut down. And it was because of that. And we'd eaten whale that night.

DAVID: And that was your first meeting with Neil Gaiman.

MICHAEL: That was my first meeting. And also in the drive home that night from that restaurant, he said, and we were in my Mini, he said, "Have you found the secret compartment?"

I said, "What are you talking about?" It's such a Neil Gaiman thing to say.

DAVID: Isn't it?

MICHAEL: The secret compartment? Yeah. Each Mini has got a secret compartment. I said, "I had no idea." It's secret. And he pressed a little button and a thing opened up. And it was a secret compartment in my own car that Neil Gaiman showed me.

DAVID: Was there anything inside it?

MICHAEL: Yeah, there was a little man. And he jumped out and went, "Hello!" No, there was nothing in there. There was afterwards because I started putting...

DAVID: Sure. That's a very Neil Gaiman story. All of that is such a Neil Gaiman story.

MICHAEL: That's how it began. Yeah.

DAVID: And then he came to offer you the part in Good Omens.

MICHAEL: Yeah. Well, we became friends and we would whenever he was in town, we would meet up and yeah, and then eventually he started, he said, "You know, I'm working on an adaptation of Good Omens." And I can remember at one point Terry Gilliam was going to maybe make a film of it. And I remember being there with Neil and Terry when they were talking about it. And...

DAVID: Were you involved at that point?

MICHAEL: No, no, I wasn't involved. I just happened to have met up with Neil that day.

DAVID: Right.

MICHAEL: And then Terry Gilliam came along and they were chatting, that was the day they were talking about that or whatever.

And then eventually he sent me one of the scripts for an early draft of like the first episode of Good Omens. And he said – and we started talking about me being involved in it, doing it – he said, “Would you be interested?” I was like, "Yeah, of course."  I went, "Oh my God." And he said, "Well, I'll send you the scripts when they come," and I would read them, and we'd talk about them a little bit. And so I was involved.

But it was always at that point with the idea, because he'd always said about playing Crowley in it. And so, as time went on, as I was reading the scripts, I was thinking, "I don't think I can play Crowley. I don't think I'm going to be able to do it." And I started to get a bit nervous because I thought, “I don't want to tell Neil that I don't think I can do this.”  But I just felt like I don't think I can play Crowley.

DAVID: Of course you can [play Crowley?].

MICHAEL: Well, I just on a sort of, on a gut level, sometimes you have it on a gut level.

DAVID: Sure, sure.

MICHAEL: I can do this.

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: Or I can't do this. And I just thought, “You know what, this is not the part for me. The other part is better for me, I think. I think I can do that, I don't think I could do that.”

But I was scared to tell Neil because I thought, "Well, he wants me to play Crowley" – and then it turned out he had been feeling the same way as well.  And he hadn't wanted to mention it to me, but he was like, "I think Michael should really play Aziraphale."

And neither of us would bring it up.  And then eventually we did. And it was one of those things where you go, "Oh, thank God you said that. I feel exactly the same way." And then I think within a fairly short space of time, he said, “I think we've got … David Tennant … for Crowley.” And we both got very excited about that.

And then all these extraordinary people started to join in. And then, and then off we went.

DAVID: That's the other thing about Neil, he collects people, doesn't he? So he'll just go, “Oh, yeah, I've phoned up Frances McDormand, she's up for it.” Yeah. You're, what?

MICHAEL: “I emailed Jon Hamm.”

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: And yeah, and you realize how beloved he is and how beloved his work is. And I think we would both recognise that Good Omens is one of the most beloved of all of Neil's stuff.

DAVID: Yes.

MICHAEL: And had never been turned into anything.

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: And so the kind of responsibility of that, I mean, for me, for someone who has been a fan of him and a fan of the book for so long, I can empathize with all the fans out there who are like, “Oh, they better not fuck this up.”

DAVID: Yes.

MICHAEL: “And this had better be good.” And I have that part of me. But then, of course, the other part of me is like, “But I'm the one who might be fucking it up.”

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: So I feel that responsibility as well.

DAVID: But we have Neil on site.

MICHAEL: Yes. Well, Neil being the showrunner …

DAVID: Yeah. I think it takes the curse off.

MICHAEL: … I think it made a massive difference, didn't it? Yeah. You feel like you're in safe hands.

DAVID: Well, we think. Not that the world has seen it yet.

MICHAEL (grimly): No, I know.

DAVID: But it was a -- it's been a -- it's been a joy to work with you on it. I can't wait for the world to see it.

MICHAEL: Oh my God.  Oh, well, I mean, it's the only, I've done a few things where there are two people, it's a bit of a double act, like Frost-Nixon and The Queen, I suppose, in some ways. But, and I've done it, Amadeus or whatever.

This is the only thing I've done where I really don't think of it as “my character” or “my performance as that character”.  I think of it totally as us.

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: The two of us.

DAVID: Yes.

MICHAEL: Like they, what I do is defined by what you do.

DAVID: Yeah.

MICHAEL: And that was such a joy to have that experience. And it made it so much easier in a way as well, I found, because you don't feel like you're on your own in it. Like it's totally us together doing this and the two characters totally complement each other. And the experience of doing it was just a real joy.

DAVID: Yeah.  Well, I hope the world is as excited to see it as we are to talk about it, frankly.

MICHAEL: You know, there's, having talked about T.S. Eliot earlier, there's another bit from The Wasteland where there's a line which goes, These fragments I have shored against my ruin.

And this is how I think about life now. There is so much in life, no matter what your circumstances, no matter what, where you've got, what you've done, how much money you got, all that. Life's hard.  I mean, you can, it can take you down at any point.

You have to find this stuff. You have to like find things that will, these fragments that you hold to yourself, they become like a liferaft, and especially as time goes on, I think, as I've got older, I've realized it is a thin line between surviving this life and going under.

And the things that keep you afloat are these fragments, these things that are meaningful to you and what's meaningful to you will be not-meaningful to someone else, you know. But whatever it is that matters to you, it doesn't matter what it was you were into when you were a teenager, a kid, it doesn't matter what it is. Go and find them, and find some way to hold them close to you. 

Make it, go and get it. Because those are the things that keep you afloat. They really are. Like doing that with him or whatever it is, these are the fragments that have shored against my ruin. Absolutely.

DAVID: That's lovely. Michael, thank you so much.

MICHAEL: Thank you.

DAVID: For talking today and for being here.

MICHAEL: Oh, it's a pleasure. Thank you.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

The Good Omens Musical Masterpost🎵❤

How it started :)

Some time before 2013: Vicki Larnach, the australian composer and lyricist, read the Good Omens book, imagined figures dancing on stage with brilliant music and thought, ‘Ah, I’m gonna ask Terry Pratchet and Neil Gaiman if I can turn it into a musical.’ and sent an email to the publishers. The next day she got an email saying, ‘We don’t want a musical but Terry’s coming to Australia, so come and say hello and tell us what you got.’

Rob Wilkins came down to meet Vicki and Jim Hare - Vicki's husband and writer - and took them to meet Terry. They spent an hour and a half with them where Terry asked ‘piercing questions’, had tea with them and they showed Terry a song that Vicki wrote (about the Chattering Nuns). Terry said to Rob, ‘Rob, write and email to Neil, “Dear Neil, this is Terry. I’m sitting in front of two hippies from Sydney and they want to make a musical out of Good Omens and I’m tempted to let them do it.”’ which was the best email they ever heard and then Terry said, ‘Okay, you have me curious.’ - it was because of the Nuns song which sounded like the book. ‘I’m gonna give you six months, come back with a first draft libretto and five songs.’

They then sent it to Terry who sent it to Gaiman. Terry said, ‘I really like it, you’re moving story, you’re doing all the right things, but where’s showstopper, where’s the toe-tapper, you know I need people to go to intermission just snapping their fingers with the song they just can’t get out of their head, and I haven’t heard that.’ - and they realized that they were so busy serving the story they forgot to do the wow-factor, but found it very encouraging from Terry that he wanted to make it better.

They went through the whole book again to find a centrepiece - and they found it  when Warlock is growing up and Aziraphale and Crowley are with him, and spent months working just on that one thing and called ‘All Living Things’ [the song at the start of this post :)] which is a line from the book.*’ Terry gave that song to a person he knew and asked him to play it to his wife with no context and when the next day the person said that his wife woke up still singing the song Terry said to Vicki and Jim: ‘Well, that’s what I asked you to do.’ 

* [“This here’s Brother Slug,” the gardener would tell him, “and this tiny little critter is Sister Potato Weevil. Remember, Warlock, as you walk your way through the highways and byways of life’s rich and fulsome path, to have love and reverence for all living things.” “Nanny says that wivving fings is fit onwy to be gwound under my heels, Mr. Fwancis,” said little Warlock, stroking Brother Slug, and then wiping his hand conscientiously on his Kermit the Frog overall.]

Vicki and Jim got the permission to being adapting it as a musical in 2013.

Vicki and Jim on it a couple of years ‘fumbling about’, took it as far as they could and decided to bring another person into it: Jay-James Moody

In 2015, Jay James-Moody joined the collaboration initially as a dramaturge and directorial eye, eventually evolving into co-book writer. Vicki, James and Jay have continued to evolve through countless more revisions and a number of private development readings with the support, time and talent of numerous wonderful Australian performers testing the material.

In November 2017, the musical was presented in its then-current form and entirety for the first time before an audience of over 500 eager attendees. The cast included Luke Joslin, Lachlan O’Brien, Nancye Hayes, Barry Quin, Brett O’Neill, Lauren McKenna, Nicholas Craddock, Paul Capsis, Rob Johnson, Amy Lehpamer, Debora Krizak, Blake Erickson, Nat Jobe, Ana Maria Belo, Jordan Hare, Bella Thomas, Anthony Abrakmanov and Samson Hyland.

Following a rapturous response to this reading it continued to be refined and developed.

In 2019, ten days before the show came out they did their last presentation, since then they’ve been to London and shown a videotape of that workshop to Gaiman and Rob Wilkins which was ‘a pretty heartstopping experience’.

Differences between the musical and the book

The ending of the musical is a bit different.

It opens with the burning of Agnes Nutter and Aziraphale and Crowley are introduced there. 

Act One ends with them ‘essentially breaking up’ because of a huge argument and they dissolve their friendship, Act Two starts with the first time they meet.

The Future?

What is the future for the musical: in 2021 they said that they need to work on some things and then they hope to do another run, initially in Australia.

There will be a CD of the soundtrack available when the show is produced in it’s full version.

In 2024 on insta they said that it is in "complicated process of rights to stage Good Omens" and "We appreciate your support and patience of the progress or seeming lack therof, of Good Omens the musical but we assure you, we will bring you the show in the next few years."

Videos

Vicki, Jim and Jay talking 46min about the musical (this video was shown at the Ineffable Con 3 in 2021 :))

Sizzle Reel 6min

Anathema singing The Perfect Place

Crowley calling Dagon to check on the hellhound

Shadwell and Newt

Aziraphale vanishing Hastur 👀

Links

Webpage

Instagram - a lot of more bts videos and pics :)

How to support?

Subsribe to the instagram page and like and comment that you want the musical on posts :)❤. If you want to be a sponsor or donor, there is contact on their webpage.

[bbr0wni3]

Late Night Comfort

(one shot)

♡ -> Charlie Dalton x Reader

Summary: Everything has changed since the loss of a good friend. Everything is quieter, silent suffering that can't be contained, at least not for Charlie, who seeks comfort at a very late hour of the night.

-> Content & warnings: female reader, fluff, angst, love confession, narrated in 1st person, DPS spoilers!, secrets feelings, girls are allowed on Wellton, reader is part of the boys group

-> word count: 1.7k

-> (a/n): hii, a few days ago I watched DPS, and let me tell you that I NEED Charlie Dalton, he's so cute and sassy I just love him, the movie is so so amazing and beautiful, absolute cinema, so I figured I could write a one shot for my baby ♡♡♡

Sorry in advance if there are some misspelled words, bad grammar/phrases,etc. English is not my first language!!

Divider by @/anitalenia

It's been a week since Neil's passing. The atmosphere at Wellton isn't the same anymore, everything is quieter, and without Professor Keating our poetry class lacks meaning and passion. We stopped learning anything really, there is no class like Mr Keating's classes.

The boys, the whole group also changed, it's clear that we are all dealing and coping with Neil's death.

I sometimes go back to the Indian cave where all our “dead poets society” meetings were. But every time I go back I swear it feels colder than before, wetter than before and sadder each time. To think back and remember how we used to all laugh here, how we talked and listened, how we bounded like we have never before, and how charlie played the saxophone in a way that warmed my soul.

Now there's pure silence, and our laughs are trapped in the walls, faint whispers of all the poetry that has been read inside this dark cave.

Inside the cave I sometimes encountered the other boys, and usually they were always the same ones, pitts, knox, meeks, charlie and of course me; at the end the ones who were still going to the cave wanted the same, to revive the feeling of those old days, to feel the nostalgia of what could've been if something like the loss of a friend didn't happen.

I close my trigonometry study books as I prepare to go to bed, I get in the soft winter blankets my grandma crocheted herself, I lay my head on the pillows and turn my body to turn off the lamp I have next to my bed. I watch the ceiling for a while trying to fall asleep, and I eventually do.

A small and hesitant knock on my door, I tap the lamp again to turn it on and I look in complete silence in the direction that the sound came from, i wait and another knock is heard again, I glance at the clock that marks exactly 2:00 am and with a confused expression on my face I put on my slippers and get off the bed to open the door.

I open it, and I see Charlie standing there, with his usual light blue pajamas, I focus my eyes on his face, he looks tired and sad, but at the same time he's glad to see me.

“Hey, can..can I come in?” He is the first to speak and he does it almost in a whisper as he doesn't want the whole corridor to hear. He looks at me the whole time, and I cannot handle the way his eyes remind me of the ones of a puppy.

I nod and he comes in, I close the door with my hands behind my back to get a look of the situation in front of me, it worries me to see him like this.

“What happened chars?” I grab his hand softly and I guide him to my bed so we can sit and talk, as I do my heart beats loud, I can't contain and I can't deny anymore the way he always makes me feel when we're this close. I almost feel guilty to be thinking like this when he looks like he is on the verge of tears.

“I can't sleep, I keep seeing this images, this memories when I close my eyes, I just, I need someone to be here next to me” he is open about his thoughts with me, he's always been, whatever it is he's always been honest with me and straight to the point, and that is how I would describe our relationship.

“Do you want to stay again? you can rest here, we can talk if you want” I suggest to him while I look at the floor and then at him, he was already looking at me, the glimmer of the lamp paints the room of a warm yellow, and in his eyes it shines in the form of a small star, they are watery and a little red on the sides, but he looks dreamy under this light.

He nods in response, so I get up off the bed and grab some blankets from the top drawer of my wardrobe. I started making the bed that's on the right of the room, since I was not assigned with a roommate that bed is always empty.

In the walls I see my big shadow making the bed for him, I feel how he is looking at me the whole time, I'm nervous just thinking about it, even though it's not the first time he's going to sleep in the same room as me.

Once I finished making it he gets up my bed and walks towards me as I go back to my own bed, I get inside the blankets again, I place my hand on my cheek to look at him and how he gets on the bed, he only looks at the ceiling, i look at his side profile and i trace his features in my mind, I decide to break the ice.

“What's on your mind that doesn't let you sleep?” he turns his head and looks at me, he matches my current position and turns his body so he is completely facing me.

“Neil” he says as I expected, sighing as he says his name, even from this distance of the room I can see how a tear began to fall and followed the bridge of his nose.

I grab the side of my blanket and I extend it in the air, opening it as a way of telling him that he is welcome to come and lay down next to me, he gets up when he notices and scoops next to me on my bed, his chest is warm but his feet are cold.

My back touches the wall as I try to make more space for the both of us, but we are still very close to each other. I turn my body to look at him, he does the same.

Another tear falls from his eyes as we stay in silence, with my thumb I hesitate but I get on time to dry it before it reaches his lips. His expression changed slightly when I did, his eyes grew a little bit bigger, he breathed deeply and his lips parted slowly from each other.

“Am I so in love with you, to even notice the smallest details of your actions, charlie?” I thought to myself at that very moment. I very much knew the answer.

It's not the first time we seek comfort from each other, that we seek our company for various reasons. But tonight, tonight is different. He is different.

I've never seen him cry like this in front of me, I've never seen him so vulnerable and sensitive next to me. We did see each other cry, but from laughter or when the whole group was there, tonight there's privacy, there's an intimate moment, there is a cozy and comforting feeling between us.

I know he feels it too, because he is leaning towards me even more, he looks for my touch as he rests his head on the creek of my neck, from a moment to another he grips the fabric of my pajama shirt, he snuggles his face deeper in my neck and I start feeling the wetness of his tears before I hear his pain.

I stay still for a moment, I can hear how my heart beats louder in my ears, and how he Is choking on his own sadness. With my left hand I caress his cheek, his hair, and his ear. He starts to calm up with my touch, he stops crying but he still grabs the side of my shirt in the most innocent way.

I think of him when we were kids.

“I'm sorry, I didn't expect to explode like that” he says, still buried in my neck, he's embarrassed and his words almost come out as a mumble.

“don't be sorry, it seems like you needed to cry out loud so you did” he raises his head and i look at him, smiling without teeth.

“Do you feel better?” I speak again

“yeah I do actually, thank you” He lets go of my shirt and accommodates his body so that his head rests on my pillow, I do the same, and we both look at each other for a moment.

“you're very special to me” He says out of nowhere, making me blush, not only is he looking at me like he is searching in the depth of my soul but he also says something like this.

“I'm going to explode.” I say in my head

“you're very special to me too, Charlie, you always were.” I respond, I fear that my body keeps pushing me to finally confess to him, it's like a sudden impulse, but is it really the moment?

I keep looking at him, going from one eye to another, I try to search for me in them, I see all of the memories I have of him, the every moment that he made me fall in love with him even more, and in that very moment I find it, I find the bravery to follow this sudden impulse.

Carpe diem.

I get closer and I kiss him right on the lips, I close my eyes and I make it the faster I can to not regret it after. I taste the salt from his dry tears. I pull apart once the impulse is gone from my body and I go back to being embarrassed.

I see how he slowly opens his eyes, he looks at me, his pupils are dilated and he smirks before grabbing the back of my head with his hand and pulling me closer again.

The kiss he gives me is deeper, like he waited a long time to do this, like he imagined every single detail the same way as I did.

We separate, he places his forehead on mine as I listen to how he breathes.

“I like you, I like you so much” he says desperately, like if he was holding these words on the back of his tongue, like it was burning him every minute that passed without being able to say it.

“I like you to chars, a lot” I look up at him as I separate our foreheads, he looks beautiful as always.

I never imagined that this night could end up like this.

Thank you for reading!

[qqueenofhades]

Good Omens Season 2: Some Thoughts (and also Screaming)

First, /screams

Second, obligatory disclaimer that this meta contains MAJOR SPOILERS for all six episodes. If you somehow have managed to remain virginally unspoiled, look away now, scroll past, or add "good omens s2" and "good omens spoilers" to your block list, as those are the tags I have been using for all posts and reblogs.

Third, /screams more

Okay okay okay. Deep breaths.

Anyway, so, uh, how about all that, huh? First, the good thing about the tone of the season overall was that it felt considerably darker and more adult, in a good way. We didn't have the precocious kiddies, the kitsch and literally-comphet Anathema and Newt, the so-clever narration, etc. All that was gone, which makes sense when you consider that a) the end of last season saw them reboot into an entirely new universe, and b) the fact that God has gone silent is, in fact, a major plot point for the season. We don't have Her slyly telling us the story, or indeed anything, and everyone is left to make their own judgments and take their own actions. Which, obviously, gets them into a lot of trouble, especially when Metatron (the Voice of God, aka someone acting in the belief that they're speaking for God and therefore doing terrible harm) swoops in with the ultimate buzzkill at the end of episode 6. But we'll get to that.

The downside was that the main, present-day plot (hiding Gabriel in the bookshop and trying to get Nina and Maggie to fall in love) was fairly thin, felt stretched out and at times weirdly paced, and otherwise existed mostly to get us to That Ending and the setup for season 3. But the ending was so damn good (if obviously, very painful) that I can't be TOO mad, not least because we spent six episodes with them just making absolutely no pretense about the whole thing being as incredibly homosexual as possible. I'll be honest: I did not think they were going to actually, explicitly go there. Neil Gaiman has been so consistent about "your interpretations are valid and you're welcome to read it however you want, but the only canon is what's on screen," which I think is frankly a good thing (not least since the Neil GAYman Cinematic Universe is consistently very, very good to us queers), that I just... didn't quite think they'd pull the trigger. Sir Terry is dead and can't have active input, this is based on a book published 30 years ago, maybe they didn't want to make it LIKE THAT... etc. I certainly hoped, but I didn't really think they would.

Uh. Well.

As I said in my various semi-coherent liveblog posts, I honestly don't think there was a single straight person in the entire season, among both major and background characters. Aziraphale/Crowley and Maggie/Nina are the obvious paralleling couples, but Beelzebub (using "they" pronouns and addressed as "Lord" despite presenting as femme/femme-adjacent) is clearly nonbinary and therefore also queer, and the countless gay/queer side characters were just /chefs kiss. From Job's son making a sassy pass at Aziraphale, to the random Scottish goon with Grindr on his phone (which he then gives to Aziraphale, because what is subtlety), to the interracial couple with the trans spouse at the Pride and Prejudice ball, there was just a lot of casual, unremarked, non-story-critical queer representation visible at every turn. It's like the NGCU saw the bigots wailing about Sandman season 1 being extremely gay and went CHALLENGE ACCEPTED, LET'S MAKE GOOD OMENS 2 EVEN MORE GAY.

God bless.

Obviously, Jon Hamm as Amnesia!Gabriel stole the show (he was SO fucking funny) and it was also incredibly fun to watch Miranda Richardson repurposed as a scheming demon. Nina Sosanya also reappeared as Nina the coffee shop owner, which leads us into the Maggie-and-Nina subplot. They're obviously, wildly, incredibly clearly an analogue for Aziraphale and Crowley themselves, but they're also each, crucially, a mix of both. On the surface, Maggie is Aziraphale: the plump, blonde, earnest, sweet-natured one owning a slightly dated book music shop and somewhat clueless about emotional nuances, while Nina is (also on the surface) Crowley, the hard-edged dark loner who doesn't want to open herself up to people or be spotted caring. But emotionally, Maggie is Crowley: the one openly pining, clearly besotted, only wanting to hang around their crush and do whatever they can to make themselves useful, while Nina is Aziraphale. Interested but reticent, attracted but conflicted, trapped in an abusive relationship with a demanding offscreen "lover" (Lindsay/Heaven) who tries to constantly control and shame them without ever offering much, if anything in return. By the end, they bring themselves around to what Maggie/Crowley are offering, but by then, well. We've got a lot more problems on our hands.

As I also said in my earlier posts, this entire thing has always been a metaphor for religion, queerness, and what religion -- especially abusive, fundamentalist, organized religion -- does to queer people, but they really cranked the FUCK out of that metaphor this season. Aziraphale is guilt-tripped, controlled, and shamed for his attraction to Crowley at every turn. He is torn between his imagined duty to Heaven, in all its ignorant, uncaring, bureaucratic, gratuitously cruel system that he still insists on seeing the best in because he can't bear the alternative, and the chaotic and sometimes grey but genuinely more good morality that Crowley offers him. (Can I just say, we were explicitly shown that the two of them together doing "just a little miracle" are more powerful than Heaven AND Hell combined.) And at the end, he's told that the only way he can be with Crowley -- what Metatron explicitly blackmails him with -- is if they both go back to heaven, submit themselves to the cruel system again and give up everything that has made them who they are: their home in London, their human friends, their reliance on each other, their independence, their own ways of doing things. You can be queer in this (religious) framework, but only the limited, watered-down, controlled, controllable, constantly-under-supervision kind of queer, which relies on both you and your lover "converting" back to the true faith. And if you don't cooperate, they will literally kidnap you, lie to you, manipulate you, take you from your soulmate, and force you right back into doing the one thing (destroying the world) that you never, ever wanted to do in the first place, because in their minds, that is still better than this. It's for your own good.

Ouch.

And the thing is: that's why the ending a) hits so hard and b) is so fucking painful, because of course Aziraphale agrees. He has no conception of being able to defy Heaven on his own; he has always, always needed Crowley for that. In the flashbacks, when Aziraphale is faced with an order from Heaven that he desperately does not want to carry out (such as letting all Job's children get killed), he still relies completely on Crowley to "outsmart the rules" and find a better way. Crowley is A Crafty Demon; that's what he does, and so Aziraphale rationalizes it to himself that therefore that must be fine. Even in season 1, when he really didn't want the Apocalypse to happen but initially thought it was his duty as a good Heaven footsoldier, he relied on Crowley to talk him out of it and allow him to do what he really wants instead. That's their whole dynamic in a nutshell, as exemplified in that scene in episode 2, where Crowley tempts Aziraphale with the "pleasures of the flesh" while sprawled on his back in Ravish Me mode like the giant walking gay disaster that he is. (Sorry, buddy. That beard. Can't do it.) Everything that Aziraphale's existence is, that makes him who he is, that he loves and cherishes the most (in this case, food and wine) comes from Crowley. Everything else is just background noise.

Throughout the season, what we see is Aziraphale increasingly coming around to the fantasy of being with Crowley. He's coy and flirty; he talks about "our car" and expects Crowley will let him (which he does); he wants to have a Jane Austen ball and for them to dance together (oh my heart); he even thinks, at the crucial moment, that the best way for them to be together is to go back to heaven just like they were in the beginning, once more perfect angels, as if those entire six thousand years of struggle and grief and pining and separation and falling didn't happen. And Crowley -- poor, poor, brave, devoted, heartbroken Crowley -- has just heard for the first time in said six thousand years that actually telling the person you love how you feel is an option. Maggie and Nina tell them point-blank that their whole stupid plan failed because people aren't chess pieces who can be moved and automatically achieve the desired result. And of course this gobsmacks the dearest and dumbest Ineffable Husbands, because they can't conceive of anything else. People are chess pieces in the Great War of Heaven and Hell; Aziraphale and Crowley themselves are chess pieces who have been desperately trying to get out of being moved by external forces, but that doesn't change the fact that that's what they are. They don't have volition or agency aside from that which they can sneak for themselves in brief and stolen moments. That's it.

Until, well. It's not it. They discover that this whole would-be war is actually an elaborate ruse to cover up another angel-demon romance, that of Gabriel and Beelzebub. (I'll be honest, I'm 99% sure they did this storyline because they saw the fans crackshipping them, but I appreciate a fictional narrative that values and incorporates its fans' input, rather than trying to constantly "trick" or "outsmart" them or "do what they don't expect.") And Gabriel and Beelzebub get to be together, but only by leaving their world forever. They have to desert their homes, their structures, even their own identities, and never return. And Crowley and Aziraphale are so rooted in their "precious, perfect, fragile" life in their little corner of Soho, with their bookshop and their Bentley and their dining at the Ritz (which they didn't get to do in the end because METATRON /shakes fist), that that just doesn't work. Neither of them can conceive of doing that. So Aziraphale thinks "go back to heaven and try to make the terrible system do some good and take what we can in terms of being together" and Crowley just... pours out his heart. He's ready to fucking propose. He barely stops himself from saying something to the effect of "I want to spend eternity with you." He begs, he pleads with Aziraphale to go away not in the literal sense, but the emotional/metaphysical: to finally break this toxic dependence on Heaven and tell them once and for all where to stick it. And because he is desperate to make Aziraphale understand, he finally throws all caution to the winds and recklessly, desperately, adoringly kisses him, the one thing he's wanted to do for ages and...

Gets. Shot. Down.

Ugghhhhh. I'm suffering all over again. Aziraphale wants him, hungers for it, for them, and yet he's been so abused and so conditioned by Heaven (he's still blithely repeating to Crowley's face that "Hell are the bad guys!") that he just cannot accept that kind of desperate, blind, limitless, lawless affection. He even forgives Crowley for this "transgression," just to really twist the knife, and Crowley just can't take it, can't face up to how terribly this has all gone up in flames, after he went to heaven trying to find the answer for Gabriel's situation. Gabriel, who he fucking hates. Gabriel, who tried to kill the angelic being he loves (and for which Crowley has transparently never forgiven him). And yet at one pouty puppy-eyed look from Aziraphale and a warning that whoever is harboring Gabriel might be in danger, Crowley leaps headlong into the Bentley again and rushes to the rescue while "Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy" is blaring. He stoutly protects Gabriel; he does a miracle to disguise him; he lets him have hot chocolate and stay in the bookshop; he guards him from the literal demonic horde outside. All because of Aziraphale. That's it. And then, it still doesn't work. Not only that, Gabriel's absence and decision to forego Armageddon gives Heaven the one tool they finally need to take Aziraphale away from him.

I repeat: Ugghhhhhhhh.

(In a good way. Ngl, I love this angst. This is the kind of angst my brain Thrives on, the Thematic Parallel Romantic Character Arc kind. Nom nom nom. But also: AGONY.)

I also need to talk about Aziraphale driving the Bentley, aside from the obvious metaphor of him being in Crowley's home while Crowley is in his. Last season, we had the "you go too fast for me, Crowley" scene with them sitting in said Bentley, which was Aziraphale saying he's not ready for a relationship. In this season, as noted above, we see Aziraphale increasingly embracing the potential fantasy of being with Crowley. But here's the catch: when he's in the Bentley this time, driving it, setting the pace, acclimating to the idea, he's driving his own idea of what the Bentley/his relationship with Crowley is. It's not the real thing. He plays classical music; he supplies himself sweets; he turns it yellow; he drives too slow. Crowley calls him in another old-married-couple snitfit to complain that Aziraphale's messed it up, but what Aziraphale has actually messed up (or will, by the end of the season) is far more consequential than just a car. He's changed the entire shape of their relationship to the one he thinks can make it work, and it just doesn't. It has to be them -- "we could have been... Us" -- or it's not even close to the truth. It's not worth their time.

I repeat: Ouch.

Speaking of the writers validating fan theories, I know we all picked up and screamed about on Crowley's idea of Peak Romance Guaranteed To Fall In Love being sheltering from rain and gazing into each other's eyes, which confirms that that poor bastard was indeed ass-over-teakettle gone as soon as he met Aziraphale (again) in Eden. I also need to talk about the 1941 redux, because wow. This time, the danger comes from Hell, which we see being its usual self: gleefully, pointlessly cruel, pettily backbiting, dirty, sniping, tedious, endless, determined to mindlessly destroy because They're The Bad Guys and they like it. So they blackmail, spy on, miracle-block, illicitly photograph, and try to prove that Aziraphale and Crowley are secretly a couple, right after Aziraphale himself has just had the Light From Heaven realization that he's in love (which we all also picked up on in s1). They're forcibly outing them (to speak of more Religious Queer Trauma) in order to break them up/get them into trouble with their authorities/families. Aziraphale and Crowley manage to escape it mostly by dumb luck, but Crowley having an altogether freakout, hands shaking, barely able to actually point the gun at Aziraphale even in the knowledge that it's supposed to be fake, is just... wow. He can't even fathom the idea of ever trying to destroy him in earnest, especially when he knows on some level that Aziraphale also finally just realized his own feelings. So I just need to --

/screams

Anyway, Aziraphale's entire arc this season is doing what he thinks is the right thing and then inadvertently causing harm and damage as a result. In the Edinburgh flashbacks (live slug reaction of me: SEAN BIGGERSTAFF???!!) he tries to stop Elspeth from stealing bodies and gets Morag killed and Crowley drinking the laudanum to save him (though that part with David Tennant just riffing left and right, using his natural Scottish accent, and being Tiny Crowley/Huge Crowley was hilarious). He invites his neighbors to a Pride and Prejudice ball and makes them all the target for demonic attack. And of course the Job episode: Aziraphale, horrified at Heaven's callous cruelty, desperate not to get Job's children killed, willing to go along with Crowley's tricks to save them somehow, tempted by Crowley to do the fucknasty with their angel bits eat some food and decide that he likes it. As mentioned, the whole thing about God being silent this season is a major thematic choice. The only time we see/hear God is Her communing with Job from afar. Aziraphale enviously imagines the answers he must be getting (he's not, he's baffled and perplexed), while Crowley longs beyond words to even have the opportunity to ask the question: why? Why do this? Why is this your plan?

And of course, this absence culminates in the Metatron, the Voice of God, the person arrogantly claiming that they're speaking for God and know exactly what Heaven wants, being able to seize Aziraphale by the short hairs and absolutely fuck him over. Gabriel is gone/decommissioned/eloping with Beelzebub, so Heaven needs a Supreme Leader (God apparently is no longer a factor in the equation). And what this Supreme Leader needs to do is finally unleash the Apocalypse that Gabriel decided to pass on (the Second Coming). Aziraphale needs to be punished, taken away from Crowley's influence/love, and put back under Heaven's explicit control, so Metatron spots a great opportunity to do all three at once. It's not an accident that the exact tool he uses to get Aziraphale to agree is "now you can actually be with Crowley!" Aziraphale and Crowley have been trying so hard to hide out from their respective Head Offices, but now all at once, there's this seemingly miraculous opportunity for them not to have to do that anymore! They can be together! They can be sanctioned by Heaven! They can give up all this hiding and sneaking around and lying! Isn't that better?

... As long as, of course, they give up absolutely everything that makes them who they are. No big deal. Minor catch. Probably nothing.

Metatron doesn't let Aziraphale have time to escape, or think it over, or reflect, or anything. He pressures Aziraphale to come with him immediately, or be once more subject to Heaven's implicit wrath/destruction/judgment. Believe me, Aziraphale already KNOWS he's made a huge mistake, as soon as he hears what Metatron really wants: bringing him back to unleash the Apocalypse that Aziraphale and Crowley have given up literally everything to prevent. He doesn't need time to reflect. By the time my man is in that elevator, he's well aware of what a catastrophic misjudgment he's made, and yet --

Aziraphale needs this. He has, as noted, literally always relied on Crowley outsmarting Heaven's cruel orders in order to prevent himself from having to do them. He's relied on Crowley rescuing him ("rescuing me makes him so happy," WELL BUB, IT'S BECAUSE YOU ALWAYS NEED IT). He admits to Crowley's face that "I need you!" He hates Heaven's sadistic meanness, but he has absolutely no framework, in and of himself, to defy it. When the rubber hits the road, he will crumple and try to go along with it, and now he's been put in a position where he's going to have to stand up, defy Heaven, and make the break once and for all BY HIMSELF. He doesn't have Crowley around to do it for him, he has no support, he is going to arrive in Heaven and be shuttled straight off to the Apocalypse 2.0 War Room. The only way he gets out of this is if he actively stands up, if he chooses himself and Crowley and their life, and he has to.

The thing is:

Aziraphale has lived his entire eternal existence Looking Up. Up is the direction of Goodness and Heaven. Up is where Angels go. Up is where Aziraphale comes from and where Demons and Hell are not. But now he's going Up, in a position to take over the whole shebang, and it's the last thing he wants.

So he's going to have to come back Down.

He's going to have to Fall. He's going to have to get back Below at all costs. He's going to have to finally, once and for all, understand what led Crowley to make the choice to leave Heaven and never come back. It's only then that they can possibly be together on any kind of conscious, equal, deliberate footing, claim their own agency, reject Heaven AND Hell, and try to really earn that South Downs cottage and that happy-ever-after, and it's gonna hurt so good.

Now if you will excuse me, /screams

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

update on the good omens grieving process

Hello hi yes maggots your mascot sacrificial goat here, none of your ominous bloody warnings prepared me for this. On the advice of one of you I took a break from tumblr today so I thought ah, yes, I shall not think about Good Omens during this time. Hahahaha bet. This is a long post, about a series of disturbing good omens moments that haunted me anyway. Proceed with caution.

It was nine hours away, out of which I slept through four.

During the first nap, it became clear how tumblr brainwashed me. You'll never guess what I dreamed of. If you said Good Omens the answer is no.

I dreamed that someone on the television was reading out an audiobook of a nature arts and crafts book I had as a kid. And there were six pages dedicated to praising Neil Gaiman.

So then in the dream I wrote a tumblr post about it saying, "I thought y'all were kidding about the whole Neil being in our falafel thing but goddamn he really is everywhere".

Then, still in the dream, I remembered I wasn't supposed to be on tumblr, so I tried to delete the Neil Gaiman falafel post. Instead tumblr fucking glitched and set the post to 'lo-fi mode'. I kept trying to delete it.

At this point my screen was covered with pop-ups of tumblr yelling at me and a goddamn timer counting down from 41,000 minutes. Tumblr informed me that their 'delete post' function is actually run by BitCoin.

Currently due to their skeleton staff and the fact that this hellsite is held together with washi-tape and queer trauma, they were having negotiations with BitCoin and so I could not delete my post. I tried again anyway and the entire site hung. Then I woke up. This is some @one-time-i-dreamt shit.

The only social interactions I had were with the two irl good omens fans I know, whom I informed that I had finished Good Omens.

One of them sent me an audio clip of him screeching about trauma and six months and children of divorce at the top of his voice.

The other one texted ASMIIII YOU'RE A CHILD OF DIVORCE HOW ARE YOU COPING WITH THE PAIN. Two hours into my tumblr break I was already facing withdrawal and I wanted to sob that's what the maggots call me but that would have led to them saying BECAUSE THAT'S YOUR FUCKING NAME and I didn't wanna descend there yet.

I then went on Amazon and tracked my good omens book package like a creep. I then went on the US Amazon to cry over all the Good Omens merch that I cannot buy and isn't available here.

I then went on Pinterest to look at Good Omens tumblr screenshots. It was all going well until I found a stupid fucking post that said the duration of the song playing in the Bentley during the final fifteen and the duration of the kiss are the same. So he was replaying the kiss in his head before stopping the music.

Naturally, this then made me cry over Crowley. Painfully.

I looked up Good Omens ambiences on Youtube and cleaned a whole half of my desk while an Aziraphale's bookshop ambience played with rain and shit and when the lockdown audio came I smiled again.

And now here I am. Back. In pain.

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 22

PREVIOUS

Y’know how sometimes you have something that you need to do or something that you know is going to happen but you just keep…putting it off? Like you know at some point it is going to happen but you put it off over and over and over and over again? You’re getting increasingly anxious every time you put it off because you know it has to get done but you also know that the longer you wait the worse it is going to get. Finally, FINALLY, the anxiety is just a little too much and you end up having to deal with it.

You finally deal with it and the whole ordeal takes maybe five minutes tops and it was in no way shape or form worth the level of anxiety that you put yourself through. Like you worried about this for a good and long while and it wasn’t even that bad?

That is currently how FF feels about being stabbed by Andrew Minyard.

This is what he was so worried about that he had lost sleep, had nightmares, had lost weight, and had exacerbated his stress ulcers over.

Getting stabbed wasn’t anywhere near as bad as he had thought it was going to be. Maybe it was the fact that it was just a single stab wound instead of the Psycho levels that he had been imagining (Wow, showers were going to be so much less stressful now that he didn’t have to confirm Andrew Minyard’s location before triple checking the lock). Maybe it was the fact that he is PUMPED full of adrenaline from his fights against Jackson and Romero but the stab wound didn’t even really hurt at the moment.

This isn’t even the worse thing that had happened to him this year!

That honor still goes to the joint winners of when his Step Family and mother found out that he had a full-ride to Palmetto and when he had tripped up the same step on the stairs at school three times in a row as people watched and laughed.

(Maybe also the solitary congratulations from his Grandma in regards to his graduation but FF doesn’t let himself think about that, won’t think about it.)

He wouldn’t necessarily call being in a state of ‘stabbed’ a pleasant time but Andrew was being so NICE about it.

“Stop trying to sit up you fucking idiot!” Andrew shouts at him.

Well….Andrew’s version of nice.

(This is the same version of nice that he had misunderstood for months at this point. Maybe FF is just enough in shock from the stab wound in his stomach that he’s starting to grasp the basics in the difficult language of Andrew Minyard’s niceness.)

Andrew had gotten off the phone with 911 and then started pulling off his own jacket before draping it over FF’s upper body, wedging his phone between his shoulder and his ear, and then Andrew started to apply pressure to his stomach wound.

Ow.

That is not a great feeling. This stabbing may eke out past the great triple trip of March 2010.

“No, take back your jacket. You’ll get cold if you don’t have it on.” FF argues because his own jacket is barely doing the job. Maybe it’s the cold pavement of the alley, maybe it’s the blood loss, or maybe it’s the cooling sweat he’d worked up but he is shivering pretty badly.

A thought occurs to him as he feels the weird wet stickiness of his own blood sticking to Nicky’s shirt. “Can you help me get my jacket off?” He asks looking pleadingly at Andrew, “It’s my dad’s. I don’t wanna mess it up with my blood.” He clarifies when Andrew looks at him like he’s a lunatic.

Except his second call must connect right then because Andrew’s answer is non-sensical to what FF had asked, “Neil, let Roland know the police and ambulances are en route.” There’s a brief pause and the pressure against his stomach increases as a muscle in Andrew’s jaw jumps. “Smith got stabbed.” He says and he looks angry, angrier than FF had ever seen Andrew when he’s talking to Captain Neil. There is another pause, more than likely Neil saying something or asking a question, “No, it wasn’t them.” Andrew grits out and the pressure on FF’s stomach hurts, “Just get out here, I need help with smith and making sure these two assholes don’t go anywhere before the police come and grab them.” He says before he pulls one hand away from Smith’s stomach (wow he really is bleeding isn’t he?) to hang up the phone.

Andrew’s gaze turns back to him fully, “You’re not moving an inch Smith, your jacket can be cleaned.” He hisses. “Now stay still and don’t fall asleep.” He orders.

Andrew seems stressed so FF complies. He can’t help but notice how Andrew’s hands seem to be shaking as the press down on his stomach. He kind of wishes he had a pillow or something for his head because he’s starting to feel a little dizzy. Andrew’s jacket would be safer from his blood if it was a pillow instead of a blanket. Still, FF would sooner die than spit on any of Andrew’s current efforts to make him more comfortable.

He looks at the knife sticking out of his stomach. Well, he might die regardless of whether or not he spits on Andrew’s efforts.

He needs to take his mind off this.

“Should we take it out and pretend the Dundee knife stabbed me instead??” FF asks letting his mind go to the first thought in his head so that he could be distracted from his own mortality. “I think it’s still under the dumpster over there.” He moves to point one of his hands towards where the knife had remained throughout this entire ordeal.

Andrew’s knee pinned his arm before he could move it, “Stop moving Smith.” Andrew reminded him before moving his knee. “We have to leave the knife in. You’ll bleed to death otherwise.” Andrew reminds.

“I guess that’s true, so do we just say that Romero got a handle on your knife and stabbed me?” He asks fighting his own shivers since he’s a little worried that any shaking on his part would just make the stab wound worse.

“I stabbed you Smith.” Andrew says looking at him with a furrowed brow.

“Yeah, I know,” FF agrees, “but we’re not going to say THAT to the cops.” He says and shock really is one HELL of a drug because he thinks he might have actually given Andrew Minyard an incredulous look with his atrophied face muscles. It’s either Shock or the knowledge that even if he irritates Andrew, what’s Andrew going to do about it?

STAB HIM?

“You’re going to lie to the cops?” Andrew asks, “I STABBED you Smith.” Andrew repeats.

“Yeah, I know!” FF repeats back, “You stabbed me on ACCIDENT.” FF makes sure to use the same intonation that Andrew had used to emphasize the word Stabbed. “Jackson wanted to stab me on PURPOSE. You saw that knife Andrew.” He tries to gesture towards the knife again but again Andrew’s knee pinned his hand.

He could use his other one but the reminder to stay still is enough.

“I still stabbed you.” Andrew says removing his knee again when it’s clear that FF wasn’t going to try and gesture again.

“Well, if I was going to get stabbed by anyone, I guess I’m glad my first time was with you.” Andrew let’s out a bark of a laugh that sounds more like it was punched out of him than anything, “Honestly, I don’t think Jackson would have given me his jacket afterwards or try and help me keep my blood in my body.” He says and it feels like a victory (not a both hands in the air victory cry level victory but it was close) when Andrew’s face settled into one of faint amusement.

“Probably not.” Andrew agreed, “He doesn’t seem big on Aftercare.” He says.

FF doesn’t know what that means but nods like he does, “So, Romero got a hold of your knife during our tussle and he’s the one who stabbed me. Okay? That’s the story I’m going to stick with no matter who asks me.” He looks Andrew in the eye.

“Alright Smith,” one of Andrew’s hands leaves his stomach and clasps around his shoulder and FF can’t help but notice how neither of Andrew’s hands are shaking anymore. “We can lie to the police.” He squeezes FF’s shoulder.

“Nice.” He says and lets his head fall back onto the concrete. He hears a siren in the distance and hopes it’s coming for him.

They sit in silence for maybe 30 seconds before the door slams open and only Andrew’s hands on his stomach and shoulder keep him from shooting straight up in a panic. Captain Neil seemed to take in the scene at lightning speed but it was Andrew who spoke first, “You left Aaron and Nicky with Roland?” He asks.

“Yeah I did,” Captain Neil confirms and FF can see the moment that his eyes land on the knife handle jutting out of FF’s stomach, “Andrew, what are we going to tell the police?” Captain Neil asks and FF could already see Neil crafting a lie to cover Andrew. That’s one of the things that FF likes about Captain Neil and Andrew’s relationship. He thinks it’s nice that both of them have someone who no matter the circumstances would be there with a shovel to help bury a body. He even thought it was nice when he thought it’d be his body!

“The second guy stabbed me.” The lie comes out smoothly which is good because he is planning on committing to it and Captain Neil blinks and looks at him, “He got hold of Andrew’s knife during the tussle.” He adds.

Captain Neil looks to Andrew, “You said it wasn’t-“

“I guess Smith can lie to a liar.” Andrew interrupts.

Captain Neil’s eyes widen before a wicked grin spread across his face that made FF just a little uncomfortable but only because Andrew’s grip on his shoulder suddenly tightened and his nostrils flared the way they did before the two usually started speaking in Russian.

He can handle being stabbed, he cannot handle being in shock and pretending that he doesn’t know what the two of them are saying to one another.

“Can you tell Nicky I’m sorry I got blood on his clothes?” He asks and both Captain Neil and Andrew’s gaze snap away from eye-fucking each other. He looks down and the clothes are black and they haven’t moved the knife so the wound is plugged still but yeah there’s definitely blood seeping into the shirt, not to mention the hole. “Could you tell him I’m sorry about that?” He asks.

“You are going to tell him yourself Smith.” Andrew hisses, “You are going to be fine. Do you understand me?” He asks before turning to Neil, “Can you bunch your jacket under his legs, it’s better to keep them higher than his head and heart?” He asks.

Aw.

Andrew is just so nice.

He can’t BELIEVE he thought Andrew wanted to hunt him for sport.

He’d apologize for thinking that but he thinks it’d be better to just let that particular misunderstanding go unmentioned.

Captain Neil bunches his jacket up and puts it under FF’s legs before he goes over to check on Romero and Jackson. In the corner of his eye he sees Captain Neil pause at the sight of Romero before moving over to Jackson.

“Why is he in these?!” Neil asks baffled.

“It’s a weird sex alley Captain Neil! I don’t know WHAT to tell you!” Yeah he’s definitely going into shock. The sirens are getting closer though so he’ll probably be okay.

***

The cops all have a bit of a laugh about Jackson’s cuffs until Neil tells them exactly who they are taking into custody. Neil could admit that he’s a little irritated with Andrew that at no point did the man clarify that the people who FF and Andrew were dealing with were Romero and Jackson.

Those are his father’s goons.

“They were here for me.” Neil says to the police officer and Andrew’s hand tightens in his, “They tried to take Smith because he’s my friend.”

They had decided on their story before the cops came. FF had no idea who any of these people were and was just defending himself. He’d gone out to catch his breath in the alley when Jackson had shown up. Neil had asked how in the world FF had handled Jackson on his own but FF must have been getting kind of loopy from blood loss because all he said was, “He told me to sing so I did.”

Neil can find out the full story later.

The important part is.

“Jackson went after Smith but Smith won the fight.” Neil says looking at where the cops are trying to decide how to get the fuzzy pink handcuffs off of Jackson to get him in the far more secure police issued handcuffs.

“Your friend said that you and he took out Romero together. That Romero is the one who stabbed him with your knife.” He says.

“Yes.” Andrew answers simply and Neil squeezes his hand as a reminder, “I went out to grab a smoke and Romero followed after me. Romero got hold of one of my knives in the struggle and stabbed Smith.” Andrew says with his usual deadpan affect.

“Yeah that’s what your friend Smith was saying too.” The officer says. “Well, I’m sure the FBI will want to talk to you all further but for now it’s a pretty clear cut case of self defense and no one but your friend has any serious injuries.” The officer pats Neil on the shoulder and Neil manages not to shirk away from the touch. The officer retracts his hand, “You guys are free to go tonight.” He says and turns back towards the car where a dazed Romero is in the back seat.

“Where did they take Smith?” Andrew asks since they’d been shepherded away from Smith the moment the ambulance had come. They hadn’t been able to ask which hospital Smith was going to be taken to so they could go and get updates.

“Lexington.” The cop answers, “Go on and see your friend. He seemed pretty loopy he kept talking about some beauty contest thing when he was getting loaded into the ambulance. I’m sure he’ll be a riot on painkillers.” The cop goes for a joke but it twists something in Neil’s stomach to think of FF so out of it that he’s talking nonsensically.

He feels Andrew’s hand stiffen in his and knows he’s not alone.

“Thanks.” Neil says before they head towards the front of the club. The club had been emptied out when the cops had come so Roland was babysitting Aaron and Nicky for them while they talked to the cops and FF was loaded out to the hospital.

In a way it’s almost a blessing that Nicky and Aaron are both so blasted that they aren’t comprehending any of what’s going on. They’ll have to drop them off back at the house before they go to the hospital. They’ll beat Wymack there easily even after the interrogation and drop off.

FF had asked them to call Wymack to let him know what was going on “I gave him the rights to make health care decisions for me if I’m incapacitated.” FF had said so Neil texts Wymack the hospital and the address after Andrew rattles it off for him.

“I don’t like that you hid it from me.” Neil says in the car.

“They wanted to kill you.” Andrew won’t apologize.

They still hold hands on the drive back to the Columbia house.

Andrew takes care of getting Aaron into bed while Neil helps Nicky.

Nicky who looks at Neil with a loopy smile and Neil hurts knowing that tomorrow when Nicky finds out about tonight and how he was too blasted to do anything to help FF.

Andrew and Neil reconvene in the Maserati and make their way to the hospital before either of them realize the issue.

“What is the name of the patient you’re looking for an update on?” The receptionist asks.

Both Andrew and Neil freeze.

Fuck.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings​ @blep-23​ @dreamerking27​ @andreilsmyreligion​ @belodensetdust​ @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world​ @obscureshipsandchips​ @booklover242​ @whataboutmyfries​ @sahturnos​ @pluto-pepsi​ @dreamerthinker​ @passinhosdetartaruga​ @leftunknownheart​ @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead​ @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme​ @tayspots @nick-scar​ @crazy-fangirl2524​ @blue-jos10​ @stabbyfoxandrew​ @splishsplashyouropinionistrash​ @sammichly​ @the-broken-pen​ @bitchesdoweknowu​ @very-small-flower​ @ghostlyboiii​ @its-a-paxycab​ @bisexual-genderfluid-fan​ @cheesecookie​ @theoneandonlylostsock​ @foxsoulcourt​ @blueleys @adverbialstarlight​ @elia-nna​ @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner​ @nikodiangel​ @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat​ @hallucinatedjosten​ @satanic-foxhole-court​ @vexingcosmos​ @chalilodimun​ @insectsgetcooked​ @angry-kid-with-no-money​ @queer-crows​ @lillyndra​ @themugglemudperson​ @readertodeath​ @apileofpillows​ @mortalsbowbeforeme​ @hellomynameismoo​ @next-level-mess @youreonlylow​ @interstellarfig​ @notprocrastinatingatalltoday​ @percyjacksonfan3​ @queenofcrazy27​ @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares​ @spencellio​ @adinthedarkroom​ @harpymoth​ @sufferingjustalilbit​ @anxietymoss​ @oddgreyhound​ @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken​ @ken22789​ @atiredvampire​ @isoldescorner​ @not--a--pipedream​ @azure-wing​ @bushbees​  @roonilwazlib-main​ @crumplelush​ @foldedaces-paperbirds​ @thesenseinnonsense​ @let-tyrants-fear​ @ketchupandfries​ @legowerewolf​ @deadlydodos​ @but-we-respect-his-craft​ @cariniqe​ @zanypersonapricotbiscuit​ @lesbian-blackbeard​ @lesbiansupernatural​ @silvermasquerade​ @thepeachfuzz​ @minniemariex @kazoo-the-demjin​ @gaypomegranate​ @ji-nk-ies​ @neilimfinejosten​

The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

[autistic-crunchwrap]

I watched all of The Bear Season 3 and I have so many thoughts... SPOILERS BELOW

TL;WR: It was not all bad... There were high points and low points for sure, and I did enjoy the high points! but the stress and chaos this season brought was not worth the few and far between moments of goodness we saw.

First, the good:

Liza Colón-Zayas. Oh my god. A true standout, as always. If her episode doesn’t win her an Emmy, I will be fucking furious. Ayo also deserves an Emmy for directing that episode. Every second of the episode was beautiful and moving and added significantly to the overall plot and character development of the show (as every episode of a 10-episode season show should… but more on that later)

Abby Elliot, I love you. I am a Nat Berzatto stan through and through. Ice Chips was my favorite episode of the season. AE’s chemistry with Jamie Lee Curtis is unmatched. I was so genuinely touched by this episode. This episode was family therapy for me, I think. Thank you Abby Elliot, very cool.

Richie gets some great family time with his daughter and Tiff this season, and it’s genuinely so good to see him continue to grow and support his family even when it’s really hard for him. I see how hard he’s trying and I love him for it.

Ted Fak gave some really great energy that really worked this season. Him and Neil were consistently funny and entertaining to watch. I enjoyed their bit about haunting that came up several times throughout the season

JOHN FUCKING CENA being a Fak was an INSANE choice but I loved it. This show has gone off the rails and goddamn it I need more John Cena immediately

Joel McHale is back and as bitchy as ever! I love the havoc he wreaks on Carmy. His line from episode 10, “I don’t think about you” (paraphrasing, I’m not going back to watch it for the exact quote) made me gasp watching it. If Carmy wasn't such a prick, I would feel bad, but Season 3 Carmy deserves the shit Chef David deals him.

Olivia Coleman. That is all.

"You can go fuck" is my favorite Bear quote, especially when Nat says it

Always happy to see Will Poulter as Luca. His lil mullet is adorable and I love him. I hope he and Syd connect even more in Season 4

Pete asking Syd if different foods make different levels of noise was the funniest bit the whole season. Protect Pete at all costs.

Now for the bad…

Where’s the fucking character development??? Carmy and Syd in particular felt very stuck this season. The whole season is very stuck in the past and pays a lot of lip service to 'working through your shit'... but no one ever works through their shit this season (save for Richie, sort of) and it annoyed the hell out of me.

The whole first episode felt like a waste of time. Almost no narrative development, 20+ minutes of montage and fancy shots of cooking? Don't get me wrong, I LOVE the food porn in The Bear. I live for that shit. But the narrative went NO WHERE in Episode 1 because of how much fancy cooking footage was there instead. Gurl, get on with it. I’m bored.

There are several secrets being kept this season. Syd being offered another (possibly better) position and never talking to Carmy about it, Cicero not telling Carmy that he's now broke and can't help pay for the restaurant anymore, and the details of the restaurant review being kept a secret from the audience (and the characters) for most of the season. And like, we just never really get any payoff from it?? We barely see the restaurant review at the end, Syd doesn't tell Carmy about the other job, and Cicero doesn't tell Carmy about being broke. We ended the season where we started. Re: a waste of time!

Another waste of time was the slight of hand/magic trick theme thing they tried to do but didn't fully develop. I was confused as to what the point of all that was, but it was never fully resolved. Don't give me that 'to be continued' shit because you didn't tie up your loose ends this season. I know bad writing when I see it.

Cicero was especially difficult to watch this season. More antagonistic than usual (which, fair, The Bear is a very expensive shitshow) but it makes a big deal about saying he wishes he would've shown up for the Berzatto kids more, but for what purpose? He says this twice, only for it to be revealed to the audience that he's basically lying to Carmy about having money. Bad writing makes this character more scummy than I think he needs to be.

The Claire subplot went absolutely nowhere this season. I think the only time we actually see Claire in present day (and not just in Carmy's blue-tinted 'Supercut' by Lorde memories of her...) is when Neil and Ted Fak are fucking with her at work about Carmy. She was a major trigger point for Carmy this season, but he never does anything to make amends to her, which I found strange considering there's a WHOLE EPISODE about Carmy "considering apologizing." Shut the fuck up. Apologize to her or don't, but she is not haunting you, Carmen. Goddamn.

Speaking of Carmy never apologizing, this season is SO full of callbacks to previous seasons and makes such specific references that the audience is expected to remember, but there are giant plot holes and references that are all but forgotten. The "I'm sorry" sign that Carmy taught Syd to do on the line when they're upset at each other is never brought up once this season, which feels lazy. Carmy did that sign when he was being an asshole last season, and it felt like that was missing. Also, some of the motifs this season just didn't make sense to me.

Finally, Carmen Berzattto is a grade-A asshole the whole season. Like, just a massive prick with no character development, no arc, no interest in healing or working through his shit or connecting with other human beings in really anyway, and honestly? He was antagonistic and demanding and harsh in a way we've never see him before, and I don't think it was for the better. I understand that it's because he's lost this humility and is turning into Chef David, which is the worst thing in the world to Carmy, but he shows 0 remorse for being an asshole this season. Him 'not being able to say sorry' isn't a good enough excuse for how truly grating his character was the entire season. I didn't enjoy watching him on screen. My favorite moments this season were the ones where Carmy was no where to be found. I loved Carmy in Seasons 1 and 2, but I wanted nothing to do with him this season. That's just bad writing.

PHEW, that was a lot! Okay my loves, thanks for sticking through all that. Please let me know your thoughts and hot takes too!! Anyway, stan Natalie Berzatto, and pick up some fucking C-folds, yeah?

[captainclickycat]

So while we're on the subject, here are some other thoughts.

I found Neil Gaiman's online presence - and the more overzealous members of his fanbase - annoying. And please stay with me here, I promise this isn't me trying to be smug or claim I "knew all along" or anything. There's a huge gulf between finding someone a bit annoying and thinking that their behaviour online is less than stellar occasionally and suspecting them of being a sexual predator. I don't think there could have been any way of me "knowing all along" without reading everything in the worst possible faith, which I'm not willing to do and which I maintain is not a good or helpful approach in general. And to people who genuinely looked up to him and felt completely blindsided by the news, I'm really sorry. It wasn't your fault and I hope you can do something kind for yourself today.

Anyway, back to the subject at hand. I didn't like the way he handled criticism of his work, a lot of the time. I don't think creators are obligated to personally listen to and address every negative opinion of their work, or explain every individual aspect of it that someone disliked. But I felt like a lot of his responses to feedback tended to lean into and encourage praise, while being a little disingenuous and sometimes belittling towards criticism. (And really, why feel the need to respond to everything when you could just ignore it?)

I didn't like the way he always felt the need to weigh in on fandom debates or throw out "word of god" explanations for this or that thing, including when nobody even asked. (Want to know who inspired the "I don't care what the author said" comment in my bio? Take a guess.) Especially when some of them felt engineered to paint him and his work in the best possible light.

Again, I'm not drawing attention to all this in an attempt to claim any one thing was a blatant red flag or must have been down to some sinister motivation. That's not the point I'm trying to make.

But it is one of the reasons that I was always deeply uncomfortable by the culture of hero-worship and "touch not god's anointed" that always seemed to exist around him. Like regardless of whether or not you thought this or that criticism against him was warranted, the way people would treat him like some kind of messiah who deserved nothing but praise and lose their absolute shit whenever anyone said anything remotely negative about him was absurd. Nobody deserves that, regardless of what they've done.

But at the same time... you know, I liked his work. Not just "I liked the stuff he co-wrote with someone else" or "I liked the films and TV shows he worked on with a whole bunch of other people." I liked the books he wrote by himself. They had some parts worth criticising, sure, what doesn't. But overall I thought they were well-written and funny and thought-provoking and I enjoyed myself when I was reading them. Neverwhere is the first book I had a crack at re-reading in a different language, which should tell you how much I liked it. And I didn't even dislike everything he posted on the internet. I thought some comments were pretty funny and/or insightful. I even reblogged the odd post.

And I wasn't all that vocal about any negative feelings I had towards him, because... well, frankly because a lot of the negative feelings I'd seen expressed by other people about him tended to look like "he's the devil incarnate, his work sucks, he's the worst person alive and he secretly hates every marginalised group and people should feel ashamed for sincerely liking his stuff."

And I didn't agree with that either! I didn't want to be roped in with those people. I didn't feel comfortable around them, any more than I felt comfortable around the Neil Gaiman Defense Squad, Working Tirelessly Day And Night To Aggressively Stamp Out Any Criticism Of Our Lord And Saviour.

And honestly I'm not entirely sure what kind of broader point I'm trying to articulate here, or whether I'm just working through stuff in my head. But I will say that this kind of polarising, zero-sum-game approach to criticism is... bad. It's just bad. It makes it so people are reluctant to put forward any kind of nuanced stance, for fear that they'll end up getting pigeonholed into one oversimplified category or another, or it ends up pushing people towards one extreme stance or another out of sheer frustration or contrariness. And it makes it incredibly difficult to have any kind of actually productive debate when it comes to criticising media, or criticising creators. Inevitably people's hackles are going to be up whichever side they lean towards more, and a lot of people with valuable input will inevitably end up going "yeah, I can see how that's a good point, but also the last person who brought this topic up with me deemed it appropriate to send me a barrage of messages telling me to kill myself about it, so forgive me if I'm not interested in engaging any further."

Obviously a culture of hero worship inevitably makes it a lot easier for predators to operate, and I have no doubt that being inundated with messages about how wonderful you are and how everyone who's criticising you is in the wrong must make it a lot easier to rationalise your actions. But I feel like this tendency to paint everything in terms of "are they a pure uwu blameless smol bean angel OR the devil incarnate" is incredibly unhelpful regardless of what side you come down on. The "devil incarnate" crowd can be part of the problem too.

[avelera]

So this is a bit random but:

Dream as the hero in a Greek tragedy and Hob as an Arthurian knight.

Thoughts?

(You obviously don’t have to answer if this is stupid or you don't want to)

If I may riff a bit on this, since I don't exactly have a pre-made answer (it's not a line of inquiry I've really considered), I'd say this:

Dream is absolutely a Greek tragedy protagonist. He thinks of himself that way, he's written that way. A major, indeed central, characteristic of Greek tragic heroes is that their virtues in some situations become their ultimate downfall. No one is dying in a Greek tragedy because they're inherently bad or failed people. It is the essence of that Picard line, "It's possible to do everything right and still lose. That's not failure, that's life."

Dream's dedication to his duty is an incredibly familiar virtue for a Greek tragic figure. It is also the virtue that will lead to his eventual end (in this incarnation). At least, in the comic. We'll see in the show if that's the case, and I have my suspicions based on the story's structure that we'll be seeing some deviation or, at the very least, a more optimistic spin on Dream's end.

Neil certainly wrote Dream to be a figure from a Greek Tragedy too, ironic considering he's also the "deus ex machina" in other situations, being literally a creature of godlike (or superior) power.

As for Hob as an Arthurian figure.... I'm less convinced. And I have a lot of reasons why because I think a lot about Hob's relationship, or lack thereof, with the tropes of knighthood as explored in both canon and fanon.

Let me quickly say that for fanon, sure, absolutely. I've seen incredible, complex, lovely takes on Hob as a Questing Knight or suffering the throes of textbook courtly love (more on that in a second, because I do find that part at least plausible) or otherwise being a gallant and heroic figure.

However, this is fanon. Canon Hob is certainly made more romantic, and I mean much more romantic by the show with the whole missed 1989 meeting and Ferdie's inherent and overwhelming charm. But comic Hob is... hmm, let's say he also has his charm but he's deliberately quite rough, quite crass, more than a bit dim at times, and the furthest thing from protagonist let alone romantic hero material. I think comic Hob would laugh, perhaps a bit wistfully, at the very idea of being an Arthurian figure. Certainly the Hob of "Sunday Mournings" (the Ren Faire comic issue) would be outright derisive of the notion of himself as a romantic figure or a questing knight.

Hob bought his knighthood. I think it's something that bears remembering: he bought it.

(Let me very briefly aside say, as a grubby Yankee myself, I actually find his audacity and sort of "Ha! I got away with it!" humor in that moment incredibly charming. Fuck yeah, stick it to the nobility! Fuck aristocracy, fuck nobility, and fuck aristocratic mythology like Arthuriana that reinforces those power structures. Good for Hob being a peasant who bought his knighthood, something that would be all but unthinkable in the grand sweep of Arthuriana, which for all its romanticism is still pretty definitive about everyone belonging in their social place.)

Anyway, Hob bought his knighthood with money he made getting into early English shipping and with money made from being on the right side of Henry VIII dissolving the monasteries (which were corrupt but were also one of the only forms of social services available to common people at the time, it's an incredibly complex issue) and Hob is as unbothered by the moral quandaries of this as he was the moral quandaries of being a soldier or a bandit. Hob is the furthest thing from being a Galahad. I'm not sure he could even aspire to Lancelot at his lowest on Hob's very best of days. He's just not built like that that we see.

At least, until 1989.

Now, as I've noted elsewhere, Hob's story is fundamentally altered by this ever so minor change in the show of making him still in England in 2022, still presumably waiting for Dream about a block away from the White Horse! Now, this is some courtly love shit right there! My jaw dropped when I began to map out the implications, not just of his waiting but of his becoming a history teacher.

Comic Hob never became a history teacher. Comic Hob seems all but allergic to romanticism and nostalgia. Comic Hob's highest moment of romanticism is wondering what exists in the depths of the ocean and thinking that maybe reincarnation possibly exists.

1989 changes everything. Actually, we even have evidence that in the comic timeline, Hob wasn't even in England by, what, 1992 when Dream passes away? He's in America with Gwen and they've been dating for a bit when she takes him to the Ren Faire, which is the day after Dream died. This implies that Hob doesn't usually stick around England like he does in the show timeline. If that wasn't already clear from the fact that most of his professions throughout the glimpses we see seem to involve maritime trade (sometimes of the very worst sort). The guy is constantly on the move but he stayed in England for Dream for over 30 years.

So there, at least, I think we have the first tendrils of something for fandom to grip onto that Hob does have the potential within him to go on a 30 year quest for his lost love, which is very Arthurian. I think even Hob would be perhaps shocked at himself for this, perhaps alongside becoming a history professor, finally coming to grips perhaps with the history he's seen, learning to care about it, learning that there's more to himself than he thought.

Because Hob is a weird immortal. He doesn't do the things we expect immortals to do, like learn from his mistakes and become some sort of avenging superhero, or even accumulate enough money to not need to have a day job any more, to just utterly detached from normal human life. Instead, he seems to stay grounded in a normal middle class life for whatever era he's in (barring disaster or windfall) and just happen to stick at it longer than anyone else by virtue of his immortality. It's so bizarre in the most fascinating way, it's why I'm obsessed with him, because he stays so grounded in his time period and not in any sort of special superhero way.

But 1989 really brings into sharp relief that there is an element of courtly love to how he interacts with Dream, the Beatrice to his Dante, this figure who inspires him, whom he waits for, whom he changes for (even when Dream himself perhaps doesn't believe himself capable of change?).

There I think there's something to the notion of Hob as, perhaps, a budding figure of courtly love, if not full Arthuriana knighthood.

But more intriguing and, if I may presume, what I think you're perhaps getting at with all of this is: could Hob's Questing Knight perhaps in some way disrupt Dream's Greek Tragic fate?

Well, it's not really possible in either of those genres played straight but, in the original canon, Hob didn't wait 33 years for Dream to come home to him.

So really, in the most optimistic way I'd say, anything is possible.

[marvelmaniac715]

Why are you still posting about Good Omens when Neil Gaiman is a sexual predator

My answer’s going to be slightly long, so I just want to preface this with this - Neil Gaiman is an awful, horrible man, and I’m horrified by his actions. I do not support or condone what he’s done, and even before this news broke, I wasn’t a ‘fan’ of Gaiman himself, due to his own works such as Stardust and Coraline directly linking to negative childhood experiences. Please understand that the only time I will ever refer to that man in a post again will be if I tag ‘fuck Neil Gaiman’ because really, fuck him, I get angry even thinking about what he did.

Yes, I do still post about Good Omens, but only because Terry Pratchett was responsible for around 75% of writing the original book, whilst Gaiman was responsible for only 25%, I’m not sure if that’s the exact statistics, but I know that Pratchett did more work for the book than Gaiman, and I like Pratchett because he wrote the book that the first play my childhood drama group did was based on. He’s the only original creator that I still respect.

For more personal reasons - I discovered Good Omens in around 2023, at a time where I was still trying to make friends at school - I met some of my best friends through discovering Good Omens, then I properly discovered Doctor Who through David Tennant, which led me to meet another really close friend and be inspired to write more fanfiction as well as post here on Tumblr. Good Omens has been too important to my life and my development in terms of socialising to just ignore. In fact, for my seventeenth birthday last year, my gifts were mostly Good Omens themed - I received the book, the script book, the tv companion, a pin badge, and stickers from Shein that I refuse to touch because they’re stolen fan art. I’m currently looking at a Good Omens signed poster - another birthday gift - thankfully not bearing the name Gaiman, and this was all before testimonies against him were released, none of us knew.

Also, the people in the Good Omens fandom are so wonderful and talented - the cosplayers, the artists, the fanfic writers, the people who make meta posts theorising about small details, their work is extraordinary and I just want to celebrate them. My Tumblr blog is half my own thoughts, and half me reblogging people who deserve all the praise in the world for their contributions to the internet; this is the show and tell website, and if I love something, I want to reblog it to show the world.

I never meant to hurt or offend anyone, so if there’s anything I can do, like making it clear that I don’t support Neil Gaiman, or putting a trigger warning on any reblogged posts, or even just apologising as profusely as I can, let me know because I’ll do anything to ensure that anyone who comes across my blog is happy (I’ve been a people-pleaser for my whole life, I don’t like upsetting people). I know this has been a bit of a ramble, I just felt that you deserve a proper and honest explanation as an answer to your completely valid question. If you want to unfollow me or block my posts, I’d completely understand, your decision would be completely warranted. Again, I’m sorry for any hurt I’ve caused, and I hope you have a good day/evening.

[anhonest-puck]

more anderperry because i miss them (under the cut, 630 words) (also in an au where lettermans are a thing and not achievement pins or whatever 😭)

about a week or so after neil died, his mom had come up to welton to help todd clean out his stuff. over the few hours she was there, the two had bonded quite well. todd sharing his story with her (this being a big feat for him, he’d never been good at telling people about his childhood). around the end, they had finally come to his things that he’d used or worn the most often. some things in the pile were his favorite shoes, a childhood plushie that he insisted that he couldn’t sleep without, and his wallet. also in the pile of things that laid on neil’s old bed was his tattered, worn (but well loved) letterman. todd loved neil’s letterman, nagging neil to get to wear it every chance he got. 

“neil i’m cold, can i borrow it one more time?” of course, neil would always cave and say yes, but todd savored every moment with his jacket on. to him, it was a promise. a promise of “i’ll be with you no matter what. even when i’m not there physically, i’m there; supporting you every step of the path you take.” it was like a long hug from neil. he enjoyed every minute with it on, basking in its warmth and comfort. it smelled like home. because to him, neil was home.

“so what would you like to do with it?” mrs perry muttered. she held it up. there in his right pocket, where he’d always put his hand, was a small slip of paper. she took it out gently and read the front of the slip out loud: “to: toddy” oh god. 

“i think this is for you then?” she sighed, handing the note and the jacket over to a rather speechless todd. he timidly opened the note. the writing was scribbled, but somehow the scribbled letters felt like home. home, home, home.

“toddy,

i know that this whole situation seems like absolute shit. i’m sorry. i’d understand it if you’d never forgive me; however, i know how much you loved my jacket (i noticed, you weren’t slick). so as my final parting gift, i wanted to give this to you. i hope this letter doesn’t go unnoticed, and you toss my jacket under the bed, but if you read this: know that i love you. nothing will ever change that. i’ll miss you. stay safe for me, alright toddy bear?

from, neil. 

dated: december 4th, 1959.”

from that moment todd knew that he had planned his death ahead of time. it wasn’t a ‘final hurrah’ like he had previously thought. but god, why didn’t he tell todd? maybe he had thought that it was too much of a burden. was he angry? no, anything but angry. he was upset. he left todd. alone.

 it was absurd of him to even think about tossing something so valuable and meaningful into a place where it would simply collect dust and be forgotten about, which wasn’t what neil deserved. his memory deserved to be hung up and shown to the whole world, the patches of sports he’d played and clubs he was a part of displayed in all their ragged but beautiful glory. 

todd didn’t know how long he’d sat there, staring at the note, but by the time mrs perry snapped at him to bring him back down to earth, he’d noticed that there were several tear stains on the page. he had read it and reread it over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. he finally let out a small laugh.

“toddy bear… really neil?” he giggled through tears.

and just like he used to, neil had made todd smile for the last time.

[marchentraume]

Radio Omens Thoughts

General - 

First off, you can find the Radio Drama here uwuwuwu

The cast was 10/10 amazing, I love the audiobook but it was really interesting to hear how Neil and Sir Terry wanted everyone to sound before the show was even a thought. Dirk Maggs and Heather Larmour's Direction is so well done! I'm a huge fan of Hitchhiker's Guide so might try out his radio drama later...

The Them and Anathema are personal faves of the supporting cast so I’m always happy to get a new experience with those characters, Anathema’s gaydar going off the charts was perfect (“‘Angel’?” gets me good).

Just want to highlight Josie Lawrence as Agnes is perfect just like with the show, I’m so happy they didn’t change that after the radio drama, the adaptation made her so wickedly charming that I think was in the show but it goes by so fast with everything going on.

There are definitely parts in the book that are somewhat hard for me to get through, and I think the radio adaptation helped push those along a lot better. I do wish we got to hear the parts of Aziraphale spirit hopping around a bit before finding Crowley, but I just wanted to hear him talk more. Overall this is a good way to experience the book if you aren’t sure about reading it yet, or you’re like me and need help figuring out what it was I read in the first place. 

Aziraphale and Crowley -

No notes holy shit 20/10 casting, they’re only in the drama just about as much as the book which makes me sad but their scenes were absolutely burning with how flirty they were.

They are 100% already married here and comfortable with each other, the lull of their routine is only disrupted by Armageddon which is really annoying so now they have to do their jobs.

Aziraphale acting as narrator for some scenes was a good choice, blah blah something about reliable vs unreliable narrator Crowley (I just can’t put it to words right now oops).

Peter Serafinowicz your Crowley gives me so much gender it’s insane, also when he’s doing the nanny voice???? Hello????? I could have a whole chapter of him and Aziraphale during that time just chatting with each other and little Warlock.

I overall really loved the respective performances of Peter and Mark, both portrayed the two with this freedom of doubt and lots of mutual love. Crowley still wants to keep Aziraphale safe and he’s confident he can even as events get worse, the latter is stubborn knowing he’s right but confident that his demon will catch up and figure it out (even if begrudgingly so). They already have their happy ending, it can only get happier from here after they save the world.

I definitely recommend Radio Omens, it really is part of the golden triad of experiencing the story. 

My personal recommendation: Book, Show, Radio

If you have a harder time starting books (be it reading or listening) then: Show, Book, Radio

Next on my list is the audiobook with the show cast, but I’ll take a break for a bit since every time I read/watch the original story I get so worked up I need to calm down for about a month or so :’) 

What do YOU all think of radio omens? Please tell me or send me Radio Omens headcanons and opinions. I need them badly chomping at the bit here!

[dinkbear]

camp camp s5 e1 review (MAJOR SPOILERS!)

yea i thought it sucked

i just watched the new cc episode and i thought it was....not great

the pacing was very off, i feel like they had the potential to tell an emotionally complex story regarding max's feelings to returning to camp and seeing so much different, but that's difficult to do in 15 minutes, i feel like it could've worked better if it were even just 20 minutes. also, in "With Friends Like These" i thought max's new VA sounded practically the same as his old one, but in this episode he just sounds...off. again, a lot of the lines felt forced, when i hear this new guy i don't hear the little shit-stain max i just hear Some Guy™. i understand WHY they changed the va, but as a poc myself i genuinely could not care less if a white actor voices a poc character esp in an adult cartoon. it actually really brought me out of it when max was snapping at the obstacle course because it just felt like nothing, like i didn't care.

i. hate. CJ. i think he's unfunny, i don't like his design, i just...don't like him. hoping and praying that gwen stays and he LEAVES or there's some crazy twist or SOMETHING i just do NOT like him. also, why does he have the authority to deny the campers food??? is david not his boss??? DO SOMETHING BRO

david also felt off, i know that now he knows the campers better and he's had character development but he just seemed disingenuous

the bit with nikki freaking out over max possibly being mad had so much potential to be built on and have something done with it but it just...didn't. it was just that one line and that was it, i was excited for some crazy conflict that didn't happen.

i thought the thing with neil's clip on earring was hilarious and im sad that it'll probably only be in that one episode </3

UGGGGH they CAN tell heart-wrenching stories, they CAN expand on these characters emotionally, they CAN DO SO MUCH and they HAVE....but, for me, a big part of what made episodes like "The Order of the Sparrow" and "Parents' Day" so moving was that it was out of the formula. i LOVE LOVE LOVE shows that set themselves up as being episodic/formulaic/sitcom-y and then slowly introduce lore and show that the characters are 3-dimensional and have conflict, etc, etc. but in this episode and in "With Friends Like These," the emotional story-telling feels forced. it's not set up like its a regular camp camp episode where something unexpectedly emotional happens, its set up to be the unexpected thing...which makes it expected and lose its value. especially because, back when i was SUPER hyperfixated on this show like 4 years ago, post watching "Parents' Day" or "The Order of the Sparrow" or whatever, when i rewatched other episodes i saw more to these characters hidden in little aspects of their behavior or their reactions or their dialogue that was there the WHOLE TIME, but seemed like it was just a regular old episode where regular old things happen, but now it seems as though they are straying away from that and instead having the emotional development and storytelling be completely unsubtle and on the nose. i suppose it is the writers' choice and they have every right to do that even if i don't like it.

speaking of on-the-nose, i wasn't a fan of how they just flat out said "max is upset that things are different," in the episode he said how he didn't like that everything was changing over and over and over again. and like.....take "Parents' Day" for example, max was being an extra asshole to everyone subconsciously before realizing and admitting the real reason, which was great and how kids work (because remember, max is 11) but in this episode it was pretty much "GRRRRR EVERYONE IS DIFFERENT AND IM MAD ABOUT IT!!!!!" and i know it was supposed to be like 'well WHY is he so mad about it :o" which could've been good and interesting if there were...buildup...or anything...and not "This camp sucks, but you know what else sucks? Life out there. Family, school, a crumbling society?" and "You're just as lame as before, which is why you didn't have any friends back home to begin with." its just like....come on. was that REALLY the best way to get that across??? THEY CAN WRITE SUBTLY SO WHY DON'T THEY!?!?!?!?

i feel like there is SO MUCH potential to exploring max's emotions but they just seem to keep being unsubtle and on-the-nose about it, which an emotionally neglected kid would NOT be. we have to remember, they're kids. i feel like the earlier seasons did a great job of making that obvious- making them little rascals, oblivious to things, mischievous, full-of-energy, little devils, the line "I saw it on TV!" from s1 e4- but in these newer episodes its treated as though that aspect is not important (note: i have never rewatched s4 because i didn't like it, so i am not going off it for reference bc i barely remember anything that happened) max wouldn't know that he's upset with them changing because of how lonely it is, and i know he was supposed to be projecting but the dialogue felt so forced it didn't even feel like projecting it just felt like admitting. i don't expect the writers to have a phd in child psychology or something, but if they want max's emotional reactions to have power and be meaningful, i feel like they should be a CHILD'S emotions.

granted, this is all my opinion. i'm sure for the reasons i disliked the episode, someone really loved it for the same ones. i would give it a 3/10, but there was no jasper, so it gets a 0/10. very excited for the next episode, the post-credits trailer made it seem like it'll be good.

[strangerchurby]

Part four of post-Starcourt werewolf Billy. Got delayed today building a mascot for my writing. Now that he's done, let's bring more words out. Hope you enjoy. Please note: this section by necessity will involve references to hunting (a boy's gotta eat) but I will do my best to keep these to only references. Original Idea/Steve Post by @shieldofiron [ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ Here ] [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] [ 8 ]

Or Read on Ao3

Let it never be said that Billy Hargrove in incapable of learning from experience.

Hell, his whole life has been nothing but learning from terrible experience after terrible experience. One could even say his slightly better than passing grades in school were a long term effect of learning from the experience of the back of Neil's hand. There had been a bit of that in learning how to drive too, and learning how 'important' sports were.

Okay, maybe pain is a rather common factor in Billy's learning from experience.

He is pretty sure he has been learning some pretty unique shit today. Has a whole list and everything. For instance, he's learned three things about crows.

Crows were probably a lot smarter than people realized.

Crows have an insane amount of patience for big, inexperienced predators.

He probably owes the crows a life debt or something and they definitely know it.

Following the crow had proven to be a rather interesting experience. Not only had it given Billy a chance to get used to deliberately moving in his new body rather than just fleeing headlong without much thought, but he'd had a chance to start testing out just what his sense of scent could tell him.

Mostly, he found, he didn't want to know.

But the crow had been patient, hopping and gliding from tree to tree and cawing loudly back at him to make certain he kept following. Which he had, up until he'd come upon the trap and the rabbit. In retrospect, Billy wasn't sure which of them had been more shocked by the whole situation, him or the rabbit.

He had learned what the crow wanted of him, though: his leftovers.

The less said about the actual act the better. After everything since the crash...

After everything...

Since then he's been following his nose, pointedly away from the mess he left behind. Instinct had done a lot for making sure he got fed, but now he finds he wants nothing more than to get away from it. And perhaps some water. Which is why he had been strolling ever onward, ears flicking around of their own accord, and pausing occasionally to sniff at the air.

This time when he pauses to smell he catches it at last. While he doesn't have the words to describe it exactly, he knows the smell of wet earth, and immediately turns to chase after it. Another few moments of walking and the sound finally reaches him. Something about hearing the burbling of the creek makes his stroll feel foolish, and before he really thinks about it he's running forward.

It's possible, he thinks as he lowers his muzzle to the water to lap at the cool flow, that he's never tasted something so sweet before in his life. Cool, clean, crisp even. Better than water from the tap, or the chlorinated shit from the pool getting into his mouth. Maybe even better than the faint taste of salt water on his lips from the ocean waves.

The experience is so pleasant that he almost drinks too much. Maybe if he was nothing more than the beast he looked like he might have. As it was he's got enough years of sports under his belt to know the dangers of drinking too much too fast if you're dehydrated. So he stops before he really wants to and retreats just far enough up the bank to find a nice dry spot on the ground. There he flops down on his belly to wait. To rest.

Yes, rest good. Let the meat give strength. Then, more hunting. Must hunt.

The thought jumps into his mind unbidden and Billy huffs out a breath in annoyance. There's just something weird about it. His voice and not, instinct and not, him and yet wolf at the same time. It's possible if he came into his heritage in another way he wouldn't mind it so much. Given the thing that had been in his head, he really doesn't like feeling torn like this.

Caw!

Somehow he's gotten used to the sharp, sudden crack of the bird's call. It means Billy doesn't flinch to suddenly hear it so close to him. Always better when he doesn't, given his sides still hurt. They seem to be healing though, especially since the rabbit. Eating had been strange, the way that it had immediately drowned out the pain. Actually, now that he thinks about it, the pain is a lot less than it was before.

Curious he turns to nose at one of the spots of blood matted fur on his side. Probably not the smartest thing to poke at it, especially with the rabbit's blood still around his mouth. Still brains isn't everything when the world has gone upside down on him. So he prods and is shocked to find no flare of pain. On impulse he lets his tongue flick out, to lick over where the wound should be. Dogs do that, right, so it's probably not that bad? Shit, he doesn't know how this works, but he's got to do something.

Lick after lick wets his fur and carries away the tangling of the blood. Every few moments he stops and makes sure to look at the area. No signs of new bleeding, no clear open wounds that he knows were there in his human body, and is his fur starting to look more...

CAW!

The call is louder this time, and accompanied by a heavy weight hitting the back of his head. It's really a shame he can't curse, because he's pretty sure he could work up something particularly colorful after that. The heavy weight lingers on his head until he starts to growl and shakes it violently. Another, quieter call of protest rings out too close to his ears before the weight is gone.

Immediately Billy snaps his head to the side, just in time to watch the crow land just beyond the range of his teeth. At least beyond them without him getting up. The bag of feathers even has the gall to try and look dignified and unbothered.

Billy's lips start to part with a snarl, because sure he owes the crow for leading him to food, but he doesn't owe it if it's going to attack him.

Which of course means the crow does the most unexpected thing. It's head bobs forward toward Billy's face, faster than he might have thought possible. But it doesn't aim for his nose or his eyes or anything else really sensitive. No, the beak comes close to his ear and knocks off of something. There's a sound that mixes a light 'ting' and a heavier 'thunk'. That's not as shocking as the sensation that starts then. Or maybe it doesn't start so much as he becomes aware of it for the first time.

His ears don't weigh the same.

The difference is so slight that without the crow's attention he hadn't noticed it. Maybe never would have noticed it. But the thing twitches in again, pecking in a way that makes the noise. The motion flicks at Billy's ear enough that he finally pushes to his feet. That sets the crow to wing in an undignified manner and he watches as it bumbles off to a nearby branch to watch and caw at him in annoyance. Once it's settled he moves forward, back toward the water.

The trouble with creeks is that the water is moving, so it doesn't make a very good mirror. In the end he has to trot a bit further upstream to find a place where the water pulls off a bit into a slower flowing area where it pools just enough to present some degree of reasonable reflection. Then it's a matter of tilting his big head one way then the other a few times until it happens.

Light glints from a single point in his left ear.

If only wolves could laugh. As it is something like a little yip escaped him. Has to count for something, right?

Of all the things to stick with me in a fucked up change, it's the earring? Really?

The force that took him over never saw a purpose to taking it out, so of course it had taken the ride with Billy. Seeing it now leaves his heart aching though. There's no sign of his necklace. Makes sense. A wolf's ear is probably thinner than a human's where it's pierced through. The necklace, though, that had been on a chain. A chain that probably hadn't held up to how thick Billy's neck had become. Which means it's back in the mall.

The mall in Hawkins.

Hawkins, where his life had been ruined a few times over. Hawkins, where that thing had taken over him with aspirations to conquer the world or some shit. Hawkins, where he hurt people, did horrible things to people, killed people. Hawkins, where he was changed into this form. Hawkins, where the men in suits and the men in fatigues and the men with guns had captured him.

Hawkins.

Which is where he had no choice but to leave Max and the girl last night.

Caw.

Once more the crow alights near his side, standing there like it needs to check in on him. It takes another few steps forward, circles him, seems to evaluate him. Billy wonders what it sees. What it thinks of this strange predator. Why it helped him. If it thinks he can be a meal ticket again.

Really wishing I could talk to you right now, featherhead. Because way people out here talk you'd think crows know the most efficient way to get anywhere. And right now I could really use a guide.

Because he's got no clue where he is. He's got no clue how long he was in that vehicle last night. He's got less than no clue of which way will get him back to that piece of shit cursed town.

The thing is, he needs to know. Because, fuck him, he's going to get back to Hawkins come hell or high water.

And since between surfing in California and everything leading up to last night, he's got a feeling that he's been through enough of both to know just how little they're going to stop him now.

[ To Part Five ]

[llaberration]

I.S.M.I - Chapter Six

The god had lots of intrusive thoughts for Hal that night as he lay on his side, pretending to be asleep, watching the tiny man tossing and turning on his makeshift bed. The deity had plenty to say about tiny helpless things... how much fun it would be to bite them, to torture them... swallow them whole just to feel them squirm. Hal did not at all enjoy this lecture from the god, but he knew that it was just trying to say whatever it thought would bother him the most. It was true he did suddenly kind of envy the efficiency with which Doc could use his stomach as a safe and convenient person storage... if he could do that he'd certainly not have to worry about the small man getting lost or harmed or separated from him. After all, his line of work was barely survivable for regular sized folks. How he was supposed to keep someone so small alive and still do his job was a mystery to him. But as far as he knew, he had gained no such control over his insides. Even if he had, he deeply doubted that Blaine would wish to be consumed.

The biologist probably managed to catch about four hours of sleep again, during which the god chose to send his dreams back to that mall to find out how it felt to have his bones removed and welded into a chair. Not very good, as it turned out.

The next morning they shared coffee and slightly stale porridge before he drove them back to the Institute. In the medical wing, they met with a tired looking Neil, who was excitedly explaining to Dr Blake that he had been practising his shrinking magic all night, showing an assortment of items that had once been normal sized that he had 'adjusted' by forcing the molecules closer together. “Oh that's great,” said Hal, as he walked into the room, “I was hoping you'd be willing to try shrinking some clothes for him,” Deacon was once again riding securely hidden in his jacket, hidden away. This time, however Hal had posessed the foresight to switch his jacket for a scruffier but more functional brown faux suede one with proper, upright inner pockets, which saved Hal from using his arm to hold the jacket closed, while still providing the small man a nice safe place to hide. “And maybe some basics like cutlery,” he paused a little as he noticed the bags under the young man's eyes, “Did you get... any sleep last night?”

“Not really...” admitted Neil, “I was distracted with this... I thought if I could master it I could fix him but... I still can't use this on anything organic. I tried it with an apple and it exploded-”

“Nonetheless, he has provided us some very helpful insight into possible methods this might have employed,” cut in Dr Blake. “Do not be too hard on him.”

Hal shook his head with a snort. “Neil. Go get some sleep. Take one of the rest rooms and catch a few hours. We're going on another investigation this afternoon so if you go now, you have time to fit in a good six hours before we're expected to pick up the van. When you come along, bring some stuff to practice shrinking for Blaine along the way. But you're no use to me if you're collapsing from exhaustion.”

Dr Blake waved as the young man left, shaking his head. “He's a good lad, doing his best to help.”

“I know, but he's no help to me if he's falling asleep on an investigation,” chuckled Hal, shaking his head in self-aware dissaproval. “So... what's the order of today?”

“Well. We were going to go over the results of the MRI, and do a few other simple tests. I have developed several theories in the last half hour with Mr Sayer, and consulted with Doc on some of them, so I would like to pursue those as well if you don't mind.”

Hal perked up a little, “Doc?”

“Indeed. I wanted a consult from him, an area of expertise that I don't have. We also needed to bring in a mental health professional to ensure Mr Deacon is doing okay inside and out. We have booked Mr Deacon in with him for a session at two, for a checkup.”

“Alright...” Hal was a little suspicious what the werewolf's expertise was in, but it was true Deacon had gone through something extremely traumatic. A session to ensure he was doing alright couldn't be a bad thing. “What's first?”

They spent about three hours going over the MRI, having several doctors examine Deacon, taking tiny blood samples using kits Sayer had shrunk for them, and finally, Hal sat and watched as the small man was exposed to several more... unconventional tests like exposing him to various chemicals and conditions to see how he reacted, testing how much oxygen his body needed now, documenting his exact size, weight and how this discrepancy calculated to his previous biometric data. The whole time, Hal hovered close, working on his own reports about the man on his tablet, but never letting Blaine out of his sight.

Deacon handled it with visible discomfort, but patience with the men who were just trying to do their jobs. As long as he could see Hal, and nobody tried to grab him against his will, he tolerated all of their testing and poking and prodding.

Then they were dismissed for a short time, Dr Blake said he had to compile some data and reports, and they should carry on about their business while he did so. So Hal returned to his desk and shared a coffee with the small man as he checked his emails, ordered the case files for the afternoon's investigation, called Dr Green to see how things were going with the fun mall and to provide an update on how Blaine was doing for the captain and his men. Deacon meanwhile was starting to explore his surroundings a little as his confidence grew. He began to interact with the outsized stationary, and sat considering Hal's mug for a time before requesting a bath in coffee at a later point in time when it was convenient. Hal chuckled as he agreed to this. He was just glad to see the small man was handling his situation with a little more confidence now. Of course he was. He was an agent of the institute, he had seen far worse things, and suffered far greater problems, but Hal had seen people's minds broken by lesser tortures, so he was mindful to keep Blaine distracted and entertained until their appointment time with Doc came up. At that point, he gently tucked the small man into his jacket, and left to take him down to see the werewolf.

When he knocked on the door, Doc was swift to open it, looking positively ecstatic to see Hal, “I was worried you wouldn't be willing to come with him!” exclaimed the large man, ushering him into the room. “That you'd send someone else...”

“Why?” Hal blinked.

“Well... after our last session you didn't seem exactly comfortable on the thought of returning and I haven't heard from you so...”

“Oh, no. I was just out on assignment. I was going to call back once it calmed down... then I ended up with an unexpected new friend,” Hal smiled a little awkwardly, gently patting the pocket of his jacket to try and derail the conversation away from himself.

“Of course, the main subject of today, come come, sit.”

Hal went and seated himself at the desk, and carefully extracted Deacon.

“Long time since I saw you last!” said Doc, beaming at the tiny man as he came to sit at the desk, looking ridiculously oversized as he loomed over the diminutive form. “How are you doing?”

“Well. Doing well. At least I was... until... this...” the small man gestured vaguely at himself, backing up a few small steps towards Hal as he tried to look up at Doc without breaking his neck.

“Indeed. I have been reading Dr Blake's findings...” sighed the werewolf, shaking his head, “It seems to be both good and bad news. Good in that your state is secure, healthy and does not appear to be adversely affecting your health, and bad in that... we do not, at this time, know how to cure you.”

“It's not ideal...” admitted Blaine, looking tense. “What... are they going to do with me? Do you know?”

“I've been assigned to ensure your mental health through this. The Institute is going to keep paying you, and treating you as though you are on assignment. Hal has been put down as a handler so you'll be sticking with him for the time being. Which is one of the things we're here to talk about, facilitating that safely. First however, if you don't mind, I need to do a general mental welfare check with you Agent Deacon,” he glanced at Hal, “Hal would you mind stepping outside? I need him to speak freely.”

Hal glanced at the small man, “That okay?”

Blaine nodded, “I trust Doc, he's not like the scientists.”

“Alright,” Hal stood and headed out the door, leaning back against the wall as it clicked closed after him. He closed his eyes for a moment, noting how sore they were starting to get again from lack of sleep. Felt like there was sandpaper at the back of his eye socket. Of course, the instant he indulged in this moment of peace, the god began its usual assault, telling him the werewolf was going to take his small friend away for testing and not return him. How he might even already be making a snack of the delicate little man to ensure Hal could not take him back.

Hal slid down the wall to a sitting position, bringing his knees up to his chest and letting his head fall against them. If only he could have five minutes of peace and quiet without the threats... he knew where he could go to get that... but... would his pride let him? He had responsibility to Deacon now too... he couldn't exactly leave the small man alone while he went off to go spelunking inside a werewolf. His sense of duty was strong, much stronger than his sense of self worth... so he would prioritise the small man's care over his own health. He knew that full well, and it troubled him how he was going to safely perform investigations while constantly concerning himself with where Deacon was and how to keep him hidden. The god, helpful as always, punctuated his thoughts by listing all of the many, many ways the small man would get maimed or killed while he was out investigating. They weren't wrong either. Hal knew he had a long history of throwing himself around without any real regard for his own safety. That would have to change if someone was hiding out in his pocket.

He must have accidentally drifted into a doze because the next thing he knew there was a large, heavy hand on his shoulder, and he flinched, moving swiftly away in self defence.

“Whoa, calm down Hal, it's just me,”

The investigator recognised Doc with a sigh and calmed himself, sitting up a little. “Sorry, you caught me off guard...”

The werewolf gave him a slightly severe look, folding his arms as he stood over the biologist, “Someone hasn't been sleeping properly...”

Hal shrugged, “Got things on my mind. A lot of things. And added responsibilities now.”

“Well you can come on back in, we might have a suggestion to help you solve that.”

Hal pulled himself to his feet and came back into the room, heading to the desk and sitting down, not certain what any of this was about but trusting Doc to be straight with him about it. “So... what are the results Doc? Is he still sane?”

“As sane as anyone here at the Institute gets,” replied the werewolf, sitting himself down with a smile, “He's a little raw... it wasn't a good experience being trapped in a giant crane machine with corpses and no sign of rescue but... he's managing it as well as anyone could be expected.”

Hal nodded, smiling at the small man on the desk, “Good. That's really the best we can hope for at the moment.”

Doc agreed with this statement, giving an affirmative grunt as he leaned back. “The medical test results have concluded that Sayer's theory is correct. Blaine's molecules have been forced closer together by some Ignotuscientific process that we're not entirely familiar with. The down side to this is the one we see here. He's smaller. This puts him at a great many increased risks, but they are all obvious to us. The up side, and there is an up side here, is that he's much tougher now. The tests this morning confirm that he is much less prone to injury from being crushed or dropped, he also needs far less oxygen, as his lungs are much more efficiently drawing the air he needs from less now. He is also immune to damage from acids and similar corrosives that function by breaking down the bonds between molecules because his are just... too dense for them to get a grip on those bonds.”

“Okay... so he's in more danger from some stuff, and less danger from other stuff...?”

“Correct,”

“What does that mean for this situation going forward?”

“Well... it does rather solve several problems,” chuckled Doc, leaning forward a little awkwardly, his face unreadable as he seemed to consider his next words with care. “I have already discussed this with Blaine and he's willing to entertain the thought if you are.”

“What thought?” Hal asked, uneasily.

“Well. You saw for yourself how efficient my method of protecting someone is. I am sure it must already have occurred to you that if you could carry him somewhere safer, risk to him would be significantly decreased, correct?”

“Well yeah but... wait.” Hal went very still, “are you saying you should just eat him and then he'd be safe until this is all over?”

Doc chuckled, holding up his hands. “Unfortunately not. That would make privacy with my other clients quite impossible. Not to mention my stomach is in high demand. Giving it to just one individual would not be fair. You misunderstand Hal... what I mean is that... you are his handler...” he let the sentence fall as he gave Hal an extended pink eyed stare, hoping the biologist would follow his logic.

“Oh. OH.” Hal grimaced as the god rushed at him with accusations for having already thought of such things, calling him a cannibal and a monster. “I...” he glanced at Deacon, “Are you sure? I mean... it's a lot... and I'm no werewolf...”

Deacon looked a bit pale at the thought, but nodded. “I... am a risk in your jacket. Not just for myself but for you. You're focused on looking out for me. Making sure I stay safe... making sure I stay close. Just while we're out on mission... it would solve that...”

Hal looked uncomfortably at the werewolf. “What if they're wrong? The tests?”

“They are not. Two of the tests performed this morning were dripping concentrated hydrochloric acid onto him, and putting him a low oxygen environment. The results speak for themselves.” Doc assured him with a shrug. “I promise, this would not have been suggested if it had not been thoroughly examined as a possibility.”

“But he's... big,” Hal gestured at the eight inch form. “I'm only human... I don't know if I can...”

“Why not give it a test run, here, where there's an expert? If it feels wrong or something doesn't work... you can bring me right out.” Suggested Blaine. “If it does work, I can just wait it out until your investigation this afternoon is over and then I can come out once we're back at the institute. I don't want to move in or anything like that... it just makes life outside safer when you're on assignment.”

Hal had to admit the point they were making was valid, but he felt like it was too much responsibility to put on a man who could barely take care of himself. Then again how was it any different to caring for the man here on the outside. “You're sure?” he asked Blaine.

“I'm... not sure but... I'm willing to give it a go.”

Hal gave an awkward nod, “Okay... then... I'll try it. Just for safety...” he glanced at Doc. “Do the medical teams know about this?”

“It was Dr Blake's idea,” said Doc. “You would be genuinely surprised how often this kind of thing comes up. Don't ask.”

“Any... advice for a first timer?” asked Hal, frowning.

“Well, we can start off by getting him wet first. Trust me on that one. Secondly don't worry about him. He's been down a gullet a few times, just like you. So... he won't panic.”

“Alright...” Hal stood up and gently offered his hands to the small man, who clambered into them, and allowed himself to be taken to the bathroom. Hal ran the tap until it turned warm, then gently allowed the water to pour over the small man in his hands.

“I still want a coffee bath at some point...” called Blaine as he let himself be soaked.

“Oh don't worry about that, I have a feeling you're going to find yourself regularly immersed in coffee,” chuckled Doc from around the door. Once Hal had him thoroughly drenched, he gently lifted the man free of the water and glanced uncertainly at him. “Last chance... you're sure about this?”

“Again, not entirely, but as long as it's somewhere to hide out... and I kind of get your luck by extension as a survival shield... I know this is the sensible choice.”

Hal nodded, glancing at Doc to check the man had witnessed this consent, then, with a slightly awkward smile, he decided to make a little light of the situation since Deacon seemed to respond to that, and said lightly, “The safe word is cabbage,” before gently lifting the small man towards his face.

Deacon visibly flinched a little bit, but fought through it, and raised his arms over his head, like he was going into a dive, and Hal appreciated that effort on Blaine's part to slim his shape down. He opened his mouth and carefully, cautiously began to slip the tiny arms inside.

He had been mentally preparing himself for having to choke down a dry, awkward shape with perhaps a hint of salty flavour. What he actually got was not at all what he had expected.

As soon as the tiny hands made contact with his tongue, he felt a burst of flavour... it was warm and meaty and there was a subtle spiciness to it that he had never tasted anything like before. The god immediately fell silent in apparent awe of the flavour as Hal instinctively pushed the small man deeper, wanting more of that taste. Deacon's arms spread across his tongue, taking the flavour with them every inch of the way, and leaving a strange, delightful tingling. Hal felt his heart thud against his ribs and guilt flooded him as he realised he was enjoying this... a lot. But Doc was watching, and Deacon was expecting to be provided his safe haven so Hal muscled through the feeling, wrestling it down into submission as he shoved the small body and tried an experimental swallow.

With the human throat as narrow and sensitive as it was he had expected this part to be very difficult and uncomfortable, and he found that it was a strain but not a painful one. He shivered, swallowing gently again, the little arms trailing deeper and the broad shoulders stretching his gullet. There was still no pain, and he shuddered as his throat felt full and tingly, his empty stomach already starting to clamour for this unusual, spicy treat. Turning a little away from Doc for privacy, Hal tipped his head back, easing the awkward angle on the small body and closing his eyes as he gave the man's bum a gentle push with his palm, gently forcing the agent deeper. He swallowed again, feeling a nervous wriggle in his throat, but instead of feeling uncomfortable, the sensation filled him with almost an electric charge of warm pleasure. He shivered, guiltily wanting more, gently pushing against the small legs to send them deeper, swallowing again, his throat, now having a good, thorough grip on his meal, dragging the little shape down down much more easily. The tiny legs slid between his lips, and Hal was able to close his mouth, swallowing again, leaning back against the sink as he felt the entire body contained in his throat, squashed most of the way under his collarbone, feeling heavy and warm and conscious. The spicy taste still dominated his senses, and he shivered as a nervous wriggle caused another wave of warmth. He swallowed again, more insistently now, his very human instincts telling him this large blockage was dangerous, and another, entirely unfamiliar set of instincts eager to feel those squirms deeper inside.

“Hal, you okay?” Doc's voice was gentle, and a large hand fell on his shoulder.

Hal, who had forgotten he was being watched, nodded and awkwardly cleared his throat, “I'm fine,” he said thickly, “One second I just need to get him the rest of the way...” he swallowed again, feeling a hefty pressure over his belly, and grimaced as there was a brief moment of strain in which Deacon seemed as confused and uncomfortable as he was before it let up, and the weight finally spilled down inside, drawing a gasp out of him as the tingling seemed to flood out from his belly at that point, making him feel full and warm and so... in control... the god was still apparently shocked into silence, and Hal, well aware that eyes were on him, drew a breath in sharply to sober his mind. He straightened up against the sink, grabbing for his jacket to pull it closed, protective of his middle suddenly.

“Hal?” Doc's voice was gentle, but concerned. “What're you feeling? You both alright?”

“Yeah...yeah...” confirmed the investigator, he could feel the small body moving inside him, shifting about, small hands pushing and pressing at the walls of his new accommodations. “Deacon? You alive?” he called.

“Alive!” came the muffled response, that Hal could only faintly hear. They were going to have to come up with something better than shouting at each other. “And in one piece.”

Hal exhaled softly, looking up at Doc, feeling a little weak as he admitted, “That didn't feel like I expected...”

“I thought it might not...” said Doc, gently steering him out of the room and sitting him down beside the desk. “I've been doing a little reading up on this god parasite of yours. Finding out a lot about the few god-class entities the ISMI has communicated with. It was... enlightening.”

Hal frowned a little, pulling his jacket a little closer around him as he asked quietly. “How so?”

“Seems that an awful lot of civilisations used to feed people to their gods,” said the werewolf, sitting down and leaning back in his chair. “And a lot of gods liked this. A lot. Some would 'take' mortals and consume them regularly, tricking them in all sorts of ways into agreeing to it, or even volunteering for it, before swallowing them whole and just... keeping them for a while. In general the mortal was returned healthy and well looked after, sometimes more so than they had been when they had left. I had a feeling that by this stage, you would be experiencing some kind of benefit from this new... god class instinct.”

“So you were testing two theories at once. Well, next time I'd prefer to be told that I'm part of the experiment too,” admitted Hal, giving the man a severe look. “But yes... it appears all is well. I am however going to need a better way to talk to him than shouting.”

“Potentially I have a solution for that,” said Doc, rummaging in his desk. “I have a waterproof headset that connects to a earpiece. I use it in my own work. Good battery life on it... if you can get your friend Sayer to shrink it... it should continue to work.” He finally found what he was looking for and lifted the case from his desk.

Hal raised an eyebrow, “Why do you have this? You ears are fine for talking to someone in your gut.”

Doc chuckled, “I have said it before, I will say it again... this kind of thing happens far more often than you think it does here.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Now. There's a few ground rules you will need to follow. First of all, make sure nobody outside the institute gets a chance to examine you. Especially not with x-rays or any other form of medical scan. Second, do not overeat. I feel like I don't need to tell you that but in the interest of safety I will anyway. He will let you know if he's running out of space but you should avoid putting him in a situation where he has to tell you. Trust building and all that. Third. Get enough sleep.” He jabbed a finger accusingly at the biologist with these words to punctuate them.

“What does that have to do with-” Hal gestured at his stomach.

“Nothing, you just need to get enough sleep.”

Hal let out a little sigh, “I'll try,” he said, “I've been trying.”

“Well now you have additional responsibilities,” Doc glanced at his middle. “I have to admit when I suggested that you get a pet this is absolutely not what I had in mind.”

“Didn't do it on purpose. I wasn't going to just leave him there.”

“And that was the right decision,” sighed Doc. “Just not the one I had in mind. How is he doing?”

Hal turned a little, opening his jacket a bit furtively to gently touch at his stomach, discovering with the light contact that there was a slight rounding there at the base of his ribs. He blinked at this discovery, and gently ran his fingertips over it. “Blaine? Still okay?”

“Yeah! Still okay! No sign of danger from the acids and I can breathe comfortably!” the call was still muffled, but quite audible.

Hal let out a little grimace as he felt a movement under his fingertips as Deacon pushed out against his palm. Not because it hurt or felt bad, but simply because it felt strange and... actually really good. “Okay, so far so good then,” confirmed Hal.

Doc observed his face quietly. “Does this... bother you?”

Hal gave him a pained look. “It's... a lot,” he admitted, “and it's... strange how the god reacted to it. Like he was stunned into quiet briefly by it. He was talking about eating Deacon last night,” he kept his voice low, so the man didn't hear any of this. “But... he was telling me to chew, to hurt him. I don't think he expected the Institute to come to the same conclusion.”

Doc nodded, “And it is a lot for one's personal boundaries as well. I appreciate that. You're a private person who takes care of your own problems and now someone is as far into your personal bubble as they can be. Right?”

Hal nodded. “Yeah. I suppose you know all about that.”

Doc chuckled, “It gets easier. And for you, it's just one guy. One lucky little guy that you pulled from the jaws of death.” The werewolf leaned forwards a little bit, “You're a real morale booster for these guys Hal. Blaine already trusts you with his life, and this is a testament to that. I realise this is a major leap in responsibility for you, but he needs your help. He'll keep himself out of trouble. You might even find he could be useful. Think about it. Get him a waterproof tablet in there and he can look things up for you on request, work on reports, your own personal live-in secretary.”

“One step at a time Doc,” chuckled Hal. “Let's see if the headset survives the shrinking first.”

The werewolf held up his hands, “Fair enough. So. What next?”

“What do you mean what next? I have like three hours then we're heading out on an investigation.”

“Are you all set up for it?”

“Of course.”

“So what was your plan for the next few hours?”

“I... honestly hadn't thought about it. I'd normally go and reread the case files and check to see if there are any other upcoming investigations that might end up on my desk.”

“Mhmm. How about a nap instead?”

Hal blinked, tensing in his seat. “Oh you really cannot go an hour of me in this office without trying to eat me huh?”

“You literally just fell asleep in the corridor outside the office because I left you unwatched for ten minutes Hal.”

“That... doesn't mean I'm...” The werewolf gave him a withering look and Hal sighed. “Not right now okay? This morning has already been a lot and I need to prep for my investigation.”

“Alright, but think about it. Soon okay?”

Hal nodded, standing, “Can I... go then?”

Doc nodded. “If you have any concerns come and get myself or Dr Blake immediately but otherwise, go on your investigation. Take care. If you're away overnight I want a check in call from you at 7pm, or a text moving the time to later if you can't do it then.”

“What? I've never had to do check in calls before?”

“You've never had a person in your stomach before.”

The retort was quick, and though it was without anger, it was sharp enough that Hal realised what the man meant. The check in was to make sure Deacon was okay, not to check in on him. That did make sense, the small agent was undergoing something very stressful. “Okay, no problem,” he held up his hands to show he understood.

“Hopefully if this works and the headset shrinks we can equip Deacon with his own phone, tablet and basic supplies for when he's going to be inside you. It will make your job easier and he'll be able to do his own check ins.”

“Anything I should know last minute?”

“Nothing else. Just... try to remember this is a lot for him too. But he, like the other agents, would follow you to the end of the earth in the belief you will do right by them. Make good on that trust.”

Hal gave a slightly nervous nod, and headed out of the office, pausing only to gently stroke at the small man. “Now how about we get you your first coffee bath?”

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<< First || Previous || Masterlist || Next >> (Next chapter available on my Kofi/Patreon! Free release date for this chapter will be around March 8th! I offer both a single purchase per chapter option, as well as a monthly subscription which will offer full access to the chapters a fortnight early as well as additional content for the ISMI universe! I appreciate all and any support I can get <3)

Kind of a talky chapter, but at least you got some vore to show for it right? Next time our boys will be back on the road to investigate another case with their new addition to the team riding along.