#michael sheen i am ALSO in your walls

[yaynotgaybutbi]

If season 3 doesn't star Michael Sheen with a beard I will show up at his house and glue it on him myself and make him film the season again.

I mean, the symbolism of Aziraphale having a beard just like Metatron does, like, it would be so fucking good.

[manyrandomfandoms]

I love those asks we give Neil that start out polite and formal before asking him the craziest of questions. Asks be like

“hello Sir Mister Gaiman, thank you for the representation in your stories, and I’m very sorry if this is hard to understand, English is not my first language, I don’t mean any offense or anything. Now. Will you set David Tennant on fire again and will Michael Sheen be the one to do it.

Thank you very much, have a nice day”

[purrvaire]

i have not known a moment of peace since season 2 came out

[goth-maudra]

AN ODE BLATHERING OUT TO THE ETHER: I am a terrible, horrible person, pissed as hell at NG and have to freely admit:

I am a horrible person because I am devastated about the accusations (at NG's behavior, *ABSOLUTELY NOT* at the victims standing up). The Good Omens fandom got me through the hell of COVID and the nightmare US presidency. I have lifelong organic depression and it's helped me with that. And what a MASTERPIECE of production with flawless acting by David Tennant and Michael Sheen.

Let me back up for a second. I am ***IN NO WAY***victim blaming or victim shaming. There's been writing on the wall, especially with Douglas Mackinnon's announcing he no longer has any association with Good Omens and closed out all of his social medias. But I feel very affronted to the tune of: how dare you, NG. How dare your actions threaten cancellation upon David Tennant, Michael Sheen, and the rest of the cast of very talented actors. And your behavior likely causing season 3 to be completely shitcanned. How dare you cause artists, writers, etc to possibly avoid creating (fanart/fics/cosplays, etc) to avoid a dogpile of cancellation.

(And THANK YOU and your socks, Mr. Sheen, I think we all needed that.😊)

But selfish-est of all from me is sadness knowing I'll never get to see it. Even if production (by some miracle) does get underway anywhere close to the original schedule (possibly with new showrunner and the blessing by Sir Terry Pratchett's estate for the parts he wrote), I'll never get to see it. If it gets off the ground a bit later, I'll still never get to see it. I have MULTIPLE autoimmune illnesses, am physically disabled, have lifelong organic clinical depression, stage 4 nonalcoholic liver cirrhosis, and am also shouldering a severe fungal infection from mold we never knew was in our home. We can't sell or afford to relocate. I'm also in nonalcoholic liver failure, it's a crouton and can't heal itself anymore. The antifungal meds can really kick the shit out of a *healthy* liver. I also have lung damage from COVID with pneumonia and respiratory failure. I don't leave the house much anymore because without a powered wheelchair or scooter, if I get to a store and they're all in use, I'm fucked. Plus not being able to breathe, so mostly everything is ordered now. My 31-year marriage is also on wobbly ground because my husband still leans towards me having Delusional Parasitosis (which is easier to process as a thing than moldy-from-the-inside-out) because he wants to *fix* things. Husband's not the bad guy here. More the frustrated guy. Maybe I could embroider a Frustrated Guy cape.🤔

Anyway. Everyone *ELSE* associated with Good Omens in the past and possible future doesn't deserve to have their career cancelled by association with NG. I wish to the point of tears that Michael Sheen's socks bring reassurance to the production of S3 happening someday and that creating art and fiction and cosplays is still okay.

But not for me. I'm running out of time.

[cloud-based-and-rainpilled]

Staged 2 thoughts!! (this will take a Year because I have a Lot of feelings)

tl; dr at the end

Hmmm I don’t see how it’s a love story yet

Staged 1 works well enough on its own but the second season is really essential as a companion piece upping the emotional ante (which is exactly how I feel about Good Omens 1 & 2 lol)

The opening scene mindfuck; The meta! We have reached levels of irony not previously seen possible

Who do I thank for the tacky Zoom interview show background? It deserves top billing

HE DOESN’T WANT THE GOLDFISH TO BE LONELY (metaphor) and then it FUCKING DIES

Celeb cameos in season 1 being all “hey! I like you!” in season 2 like “you are tearing them apart. I hate you. scum

Also the themeing of Michael Sheen and David Tennant being on their own “side” VS everyone else……….. Simon Mr. Writer Sir i see u and unfortunately i am in your walls

The writing feeling less theater-y works for the meta and I’m wondering whether they always had a second season in mind or if it’s just that well written

Was really hoping for a Colin Firth & Hugh Grant cameo ngl :/

The music didn’t annoy me as much this season since it was more of the horn oomp-pah-pah than the piano. Idk maybe my mind just changed

I didn’t know Whoopie Goldberg could be terrifying but here we are (also I forgot her name isn’t Whoopie)

“I think the wizard fucked your ass” ???

Setting up the awards and the baby was peak *pops P* comedy 🤌 Definitely needed since it gets Sad as it goes on

Welsh kink spotted!!! And so fucking blantant I was scandalized

“I’ll shove it up my ass where the rest of the excrement goes” Michael casually asking David to peg him. Nice

More bad magic. More pls and ty

Also moar Nina pls. T’was but a brief beautiful bluster in the wind

Tbh missed a lot of Michael & David’s back-and-forths VS season 1 but I get that’s… the point

Everyone agreeing David is whiney and annoying lmao get wreck’t

Also I forgot they don’t have air conditioning in Englandland ‘cause my man is sweating in every scene he’s in (unless that was intentional in which case… go on…)

The ladies!! That meta ending with the Bechdel test… I see you…

Still love Georgia and Simon’s sister (who I apparently don’t respect enough to google her name); I like Anna now too! She’s got this kinda quiet sarcastic edge I didn’t notice the first time. They all played off each other well in their 3 some (phrasing) scenes

Big amongus sus react that Anna has better chemistry with the two of them than with Michael of which there is literally zero chemistry. Compared to Georgia and David who are just electric with each other it’s honestly distracting

Actual torture watching them break down as other actors play them and drive their friendship apart, it’s fascinating to watch especially on top of it being themselves but, like, not we swear

“Am I your best friend” “No” Fuckin REJECTED !! looser!!!

Oh huh I can see how this is a love story, interesting

The David Tennant fanboy (he is a Real actor I just can’t think of his name) served juicy vomiting SFX realness

“So you’ve made love with him” BROTHER

It took me 87 years to realize warthog and mongoose were in reference to Timon and Pumbah lol <- I am not looking up how to spell this

The bannister being part of the bookshelf why did this make me laugh this hard

Ken Jeong actually reaching into the heart of everything and casually tearing into it Temple of Doom style and leaving everything to ruin lmao

I miss people getting too close to me (feral noises)

Ewan McGregor is cute and I am shallow 🥰

AU where Simon Pegg and Nick Frost did Staged and honestly it would still work aside from being dangerously heterosexual

Simon & Nick doing the Staged 1 back and forth but literally? mmmm that’s sum gud meta

Oh right I forgot the actual writer Simon’s in it too. He’s still good. I like his Zoom tantrum

Jim Parsons unconvincingly looking for his phone after he casually tells David that he and Michael are obviously in love and everyone sees it lmao

David Tennant has the unique ability to make this absolutely insane face reserved specifically for the emotion “oh shit I’m in love with Michael Sheen” which like

I could kill the Good Omens costume department rn I stg take off those fucking sunglasses I’m so mad

Ohhhhhhhh yeah this is a love story

The Frozen snowman being the big bad final boss of cunt, oof you gotta love a good villain

Michael’s monologue the only one not in the kitchen area just breaking down completely I mean *claps until my hands fall off* he put his whole pussy into it. The frustration? The despair? I mean it felt like an audition monologue (in a good way) he walked through the valley in the shadow and death and came back a broken man with a fuzzier beard

CATE BLANCHETT ZOOM SNIPE

Apparently people didn’t like Phoebe Waller Bridge in the new Indiana Jones movie which I haven’t seen but idk I thought she was pretty funny and hot here. *ding*

MOOMIN MUG SPOTTED

The use of travel as a metaphor for feeling stuck emotionally *clenches fist*

“I like silence” *screaming from the other room*

“It’s like gas filling a room” <- fascinating way to describe their dynamic, it’s specifically referring to aimless conversations that snowball and “fill up a room” but it could also refer to the palpable energy between them— like even through the abstraction of a computer screen there’s this magnetic force that’s just riveting, it’s hard to describe

“We haven’t talked about love” > Seen at 2:17 PM LMAO

Michael alone with the black frame lingering shot. Acting and editing and directing choices so simple and on point. everything hurts

Struggling to say goodbye on Zoom physically reaching out unable to leave the frame that whole scene was just. You can just feel the love through the screen, it’s so layered and intimate despite essentially being “No you hang up first”

Zoom wedding! He stayed!!

I wonder if that’s Michael Sheen’s actual best friend. That would be cute

Anna whispering and telling him “nah I know your bestie is literally an hour away but he can’t come over lol” like??? why? let them love each other I cannot handle this villain arc

“I have to bring that one otherwise my tits will explode” Wait wasn’t she drinking earlier though? #ShivRoyMoment

“I was standing outside your job for four hours because I love you” <- dog from Up moment

Yes he is legally a Hobbit

The car window as an abstraction like the Zoom boxes *continued feral noises*

The direction of David putting his hand on the window and Michael walking away only then revealing Anna and the baby far in the background? We’re in 3 dimensions and they are all painful!!

Okay yeah I get it it’s a love story but I thought this was a comedy haha right guys why does everything hurt

It ends on that meta moment between David and Georgia which I can only assume is to set up for the third season although I dunno if that was planned at the time as well. It’s ambiguous but not distracting if they didn’t make another one

tl; dr: Staged 2 is a unique and excellent addition to Staged 1. The added meta textual layer of the other celebrities breaking down their relationship based on Staged 1 allows for a lot of “hiding behind my hands so embarrassed” moments, but also by pitting them against each other, it reveals their actual love for each other through the bickering. Season 1 on its own is a nice vignette of its time but season 2 with it adds a tension and intimacy that really takes both over the top

Kinda dreading watching Staged 3 since it seems like people overwhelmingly like it less than the other two because of the loss of the Zoom format and constant arguing, but I’m already in this far deep so I’ll stick the landing

To wit— awwwwwww, they love each other!

[celestialcrowley]

Ello, ello, ello!

I’m late (fashionably) to the party, but…

I’ll start off by saying how awful I am at tagging my moots when it comes to ask games, but know that I love all of you. Please never hesitate to pop into my inbox anytime for a chat. 💚

For everyone who has become invested in my Good Omens fanfiction, thank you for your patience. I promise I am working on chapter two. I’ve only recently returned to my normal work schedule. I have been getting overtime since October.

Alright, let’s gooo!

I was tagged by: @paperclipbean — thank you so much!

1. Were you named after anyone?

🪐 Not that I’m aware of, and hardly anyone calls me by my actual name. It’s usually either Ginger, Khasper the Spicy Ghost (affectionate) or Pippin.

2. When was the last time you cried?

🪐 I don’t exactly remember, but maybe a month ago. I miss my girl. My dog. She lost her battle with arthritis at 13.5 years old. The anniversary of her death is coming up in February. I can’t believe it’s almost been a year.

And now you know what the hobbit behind this tumblr looks like.

3. Do you have kids?

🪐 I don’t, but my best friend has two wonderful sons, and I see them as my own. If I actually had a child, just picture Louise from Bob’s Burgers.

4. What sports do you play or have you played?

🪐 I currently don’t play sports, but I used to partake in tennis, badminton, wall ball, basketball, volleyball and gymnastics.

5. Do you use sarcasm?

🪐 Not really, but it does also depend on if something is said that warrants the use of sarcasm.

6. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

🪐 Personality. I am good at reading people. I may not always talk. I observe. I’m neutral on most everything, but — well, if someone has a bad personality or is mean to animals, that’s a no go for me.

7. What color are your eyes?

🪐 Nothing fancy. Green.

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

🪐 I am the spooky connoisseur.

9. Do you have any talents?

🪐 I suppose if reading books, writing fanfiction and reading people count as talents.

10. Where were you born?

🪐 I am a born and raised Florida bean.

11. What are your hobbies?

🪐 Writing, drawing, stand up paddle boarding and listening to true crime podcasts. I can recommend a good one if that’s anyone’s thing.

12. Do you have any pets?

🪐 Thing One Mycroft and Thing Two Patch

13. How tall are you?

🪐 So tall. I’m 5’5’’.

14. What is or was your favorite subject in school?

🪐 It was history and science.

15. What is your dream job?

🪐 The one I have now. I am a kennel technician responsible for the care of police and military canines.

No obligation tags: @ineffabildaddy @sad-chaos-goblin @skinnyscottishbloke @peregrintook @ritz-writes @bildads-shoes @peachworthy @phoen1xr0se @shadesofdeviant @scarecrowcloud @tragic-cosmic-magic @pretendygood @notagoodlad @ineffablemiscreant @ineffablemoist @azirapalalalala @crowleysgoat @justtofollowgaiman @xxxtosoxxx

[shouts like michael sheen] OPEN TO ALL!

[pricemarshfield]

silco, martin whitly, gortash, knight commander meredith stannard, and the joker

starting with an EASY 1. martin whitly. HORRIBLE person, even WORSE father, hurt malcolm very badly and fucked ainsley up in ways i had to write ten thousand words about, but regularly made me belly-laugh with his delivery of some lines. michael sheen can command a surprising amount of upsetting gravitas for a man with fluffy, curly hair and a cardigan (being chained to the wall helps). rip prodigal son, gone too soon

2. silco. is he a bad person? undoubtedly. are his motivations interesting, complex, and deeply grounded in a way that doesn’t compromise the setting? YEAH. he was a STELLAR villain for season 1 of arcane and i am so excited to see what they do with him wrt jinx’s hallucinations in season 2. also, he’s Very fun to put in aus (i haven’t forgotten knife’s edge of desire okay i’m working on it it’s just fighting me every step of the way).

3. gortash. the man is kind of nothing to me but his dynamic with durge can be kinda compelling, if you want to play in that space (been thinking of doing so for pre-game dardove, though she would kill him without hesitation once they reunite in act 3). mostly this high because some of the people who like him draw the most beautiful art i’ve ever seen + the fact that he can kick you if you “accidentally” hit him after allying with him is SO funny.

4. meredith. she’s actually wildly compelling to me as a character and when i eventually get around to making a pro-templar hawke, i’ll probably explore her more, but like. miss ma’am the templars under your command were doing some Really Bad things! all my hawkes HATE her (even the diplomatic ones; it’s one of VERY few places rose chooses aggressive dialogue options)

5. the joker. i might boot up injustice 2 to kill him again

[findroleplay]

I'm seeking 1x1 Discord based RP again, friends. Specifically as one of two of my characters really, though I am always open to making more OCs if need be as long as the idea floats my boat and you think we'd vibe!

I am a lazylit, 1-4 paragraph in 3rd person writer. I'm here to have fun, not fill word count quotas, and I really dig people who feel the same. I love open and communicative partners who are just as excited about their OCs as I am about mine. I'd love to get some MxM, NBixNBi or MxNBi (with me playing either of those) plots going tbh. Will consider FxNBi for the one NBi OC if I like your idea, but no promises.

Please go on my blog and read my pinned post before you contact me. Some short notices before I get into it: I am 32, you should be over 21 to RP with me, and your muse should be over 21 or, even better, over 25. No anime/manga faceclaims. Nothing too 'off the wall' either. I won't RP against a Hazbin Hotel character for example. My links aren't done yet but I can ping some stuff over if you're interested.

These characters, and their accompanying plots/universes, are generally made for adults only. They are adults, they do adult things, and I too am an adult that wants to write about adult things. So smut, sex, whatever you want to call it is inevitable. I don't mind sometimes fading to black but sex and sensuality are important to both of these characters' stories and I don't want to totally ignore that!

As such, I'm only really looking for people who are cool with a good smattering of smut and kink, and some heavier topics too, which can include Omegaverse if we decide to go that route, cruising & cottaging, anonymous sex and all that comes with that, underworld supernatural goings on, kink of varying types (of course that's depending on your preferences and mine, and how they mesh!)... Just, be mature and willing to write about adult things.

Now onto what I'm looking for. I have two characters inhabiting my brainbits at the moment.

CIARAN O'CONNOR [FC: David Tennant in Good Omens] (which is just one of the many aliases that he has gone by) is lonely. He's been lonely and hungry, in fact, for the past 1200 years. Bitten and turned by a vampire long since perished, when he was at the ripe age of 48, Ciaran has wandered the Earth for a time longer than most people find possible to even imagine. Cursed to walk alone forever, or so he thinks, he pushes away anyone who tries to get close, believing that they will be in mortal peril if they so much as befriend him.

I'm looking for ideally a Male or Nonbinary character to play alongside this Masculine Nonbinary character, but I'll consider Female characters too for Ciaran, for a modern with supernatural plot. Give me fellow vampires, werewolves, the undead, selkies, shapeshifters/changelings! I'd love to find him a Werewolf to play against to teach him how to love and find companionship after 1200 years of loneliness, and maybe we could introduce some omegaaverse shenanigans in there too if that is a thing you also enjoy.

PROFESSOR LEON RITTER [FC: Michael Sheen in Good Omens] - a literature professor - has newly moved to [city of our choosing] from Berlin. He's looking for a few things, chief amongst them for his past to stop following him around. He's a simple man who lives for writing and his books, as well as his pet Chihuahua, Betty. He seeks solace in stories... And sometimes in the darker corners of the city's streets and parks, too.

I'm looking for Male or Masculine Nonbinary characters to play alongside this Cis Male character. This plot is more grounded in reality than the previous, and has no supernatural or fantasy elements, (unless we decide to do something like modern omegaverse? IDK, I am open to that though!) I'd quite like to go one of two ways with him - a younger person, maybe a mature student in his classes, finds out what he does at night and at the weekends, simply by coincidence because they're also out cruising and cottaging, too. Or alternatively someone to calm him down and make him take care of himself for once.

I really, REALLY want to keep their face claims as is. I don't enjoy playing gym bunnies or most models, and want to keep their approx ages as they are also. It's the one thing I'm really inflexible on this time around folks, sorry if you're not a GO fan I guess!

If you're interested in plotting or chatting about either of these folks, please message me on oli.writes.stuff on Discord and we can get something worked out! <3

-

[omegaverserping]

I'm seeking 1x1 Discord based RP again, friends. Specifically as one of two of my characters really, though I am always open to making more OCs if need be as long as the idea floats my boat and you think we'd vibe!

I am a lazylit, 1-4 paragraph in 3rd person writer. I'm here to have fun, not fill word count quotas, and I really dig people who feel the same. I love open and communicative partners who are just as excited about their OCs as I am about mine. I'd love to get some MxM, NBixNBi or MxNBi (with me playing either of those) plots going tbh. Will consider FxNBi for the one NBi OC if I like your idea, but no promises.

Please go on my blog and read my pinned post before you contact me. Some short notices before I get into it: I am 32, you should be over 21 to RP with me, and your muse should be over 21 or, even better, over 25. No anime/manga faceclaims. Nothing too 'off the wall' either. I won't RP against a Hazbin Hotel character for example. My links aren't done yet but I can ping some stuff over if you're interested.

These characters, and their accompanying plots/universes, are generally made for adults only. They are adults, they do adult things, and I too am an adult that wants to write about adult things. So smut, sex, whatever you want to call it is inevitable. I don't mind sometimes fading to black but sex and sensuality are important to both of these characters' stories and I don't want to totally ignore that!

As such, I'm only really looking for people who are cool with a good smattering of smut and kink, and some heavier topics too, which can include Omegaverse if we decide to go that route, cruising & cottaging, anonymous sex and all that comes with that, underworld supernatural goings on, kink of varying types (of course that's depending on your preferences and mine, and how they mesh!)... Just, be mature and willing to write about adult things.

Now onto what I'm looking for. I have two characters inhabiting my brainbits at the moment.

CIARAN O'CONNOR [FC: David Tennant in Good Omens] (which is just one of the many aliases that he has gone by) is lonely. He's been lonely and hungry, in fact, for the past 1200 years. Bitten and turned by a vampire long since perished, when he was at the ripe age of 48, Ciaran has wandered the Earth for a time longer than most people find possible to even imagine. Cursed to walk alone forever, or so he thinks, he pushes away anyone who tries to get close, believing that they will be in mortal peril if they so much as befriend him.

I'm looking for ideally a Male or Nonbinary character to play alongside this Masculine Nonbinary character, but I'll consider Female characters too for Ciaran, for a modern with supernatural plot. Give me fellow vampires, werewolves, the undead, selkies, shapeshifters/changelings! I'd love to find him a Werewolf to play against to teach him how to love and find companionship after 1200 years of loneliness, and maybe we could introduce some omegaaverse shenanigans in there too if that is a thing you also enjoy.

PROFESSOR LEON RITTER [FC: Michael Sheen in Good Omens] - a literature professor - has newly moved to [city of our choosing] from Berlin. He's looking for a few things, chief amongst them for his past to stop following him around. He's a simple man who lives for writing and his books, as well as his pet Chihuahua, Betty. He seeks solace in stories... And sometimes in the darker corners of the city's streets and parks, too.

I'm looking for Male or Masculine Nonbinary characters to play alongside this Cis Male character. This plot is more grounded in reality than the previous, and has no supernatural or fantasy elements, (unless we decide to do something like modern omegaverse? IDK, I am open to that though!) I'd quite like to go one of two ways with him - a younger person, maybe a mature student in his classes, finds out what he does at night and at the weekends, simply by coincidence because they're also out cruising and cottaging, too. Or alternatively someone to calm him down and make him take care of himself for once.

I really, REALLY want to keep their face claims as is. I don't enjoy playing gym bunnies or most models, and want to keep their approx ages as they are also. It's the one thing I'm really inflexible on this time around folks, sorry if you're not a GO fan I guess!

If you're interested in plotting or chatting about either of these folks, please message me on oli.writes.stuff on Discord and we can get something worked out! <3

/

[ryounyan]

Last week I had a Dream about Aziraphale and Crowley having sex. Let me describe it. Where can I begin?? Well, they ware actual Aziraphale and Crowley, but more similar to Michael Sheen and David Tennant. They both were switches. And that was like feeling about "Summer Wars" and "Kemono no ko"... maybe more like "Paprika"... and like "Utena - the revolutionary girl". Yes, I am anime lover. So, what am I trying to tell?? There was not actual sex. That was more like total synchronicity and aether. It's like meditative orgasm that actually not about physical but it feels like also physical.

Aziraphale and Crowley were not naked. They were out of physical bodies. And it feels like so overwhelming happiness and weightless.

Example from "Utena". During the duel the swords were taken from chests of companions. Only companions can donate the swords for duelling characters and only dueling groups can step in the arena. Actually arena can be seeing only by people that were there. The "pure" and "naive" can't see it. I definitely love this metaphor of sex. Because everything feels like duel on the arena first finding right people. Also there is description of Love in "Utena" - loneliness and hundreds of Swords in total silence. But when Love is consensual - everything is changing and makes characters being free.

Okay, okay, watch it. Just do it. Manga is also awesome. Oh, my... I am supposed to talk about the Dream.

Well...

Let's take it from the cut off scene. Literally exists image of floating island with only bookshop (aka "Castle in the Sky"). And Crowley (I confess here, I never watched "Doctor Who", but I watched "Quantum Jump") appearing on the entrance of the bookshop from some kind of lightning door. Aziraphale is too emotional and trying to explain something. Crowley literally in pain and roaring to the wall.

Aziraphale: F@€k me!! You never listening!! The last time also.

Crowley: I am all ears now.

Aziraphale: "You are going too fast" and "What can I do for you in return"??

Crowley looks clueless.

Aziraphale: Really?? Oh my goodness!! Let me be straight... as much as I could be...

Crowley: You couldn't be straight. 'cause you aren't. I kissed you and your tongue "accidentally" fell in my mouth.

Aziraphale [the Marvelous mode]: That's why I am called Mr. Fell.

Crowley, taking off sunglasses, giggling: Wh??

Aziraphale, definitely happy: At least that makes you laugh.

Crowley smiling in Pain: Angel, you are my everything. Literally. I can't... I can't be... I can't... I won't be without you. Because it's barely existence. It's nothing. I can't feel. I can't see. I want nothing... [Sliding on the floor.] Angel, tell me, what I must do?? I want to finish it. I tried to finished myself. But every time I see your sad eyes. I... I can't...

Aziraphale [gently touching Crowley's face and drinking the tiers, whispering]: I'll be much direct as I can. Because I am on my limits. [Watching in the eyes.] F@€k me now.

Crowley looks like small monkey, pretty much confused and disconnected.

Aziraphale [already laying over Crowley and violently kissing]: "Now" means NOW!!

From this point the Dream becomes less physical. Probably because Aziraphale and Crowley are not humans. Because I remember to feel them both as the Energies. So limitless and out of comprehension. They were there, on that small floating island, and in the same Time they were the actual Beginning. Not alpha and omega. They were ALL possible Knowledge.

Crowley was crying at the end. Crying hysterically. Overloud of Emotions. Aziraphale was less loud, probably because their face was on the Crowley's chest.

Then everything was falling down. I was (probably) in another Dream.

[brooklynmuseum]

Closing out National Poetry Month, our Spring Interns paired some of their favorite poems with works from our collection. We hope you enjoy!

— Jeffrey Alexander Lopez, Curatorial Intern, American Art & Arts of the Americas

Image: Suzuki Harunobu (Japanese, 1724-1770). Page From Haru no Nishiki, 1771. Color woodblock print on paper. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Peter P. Pessutti, 83.190.1

from Citizen: “Some years there exists a wanting to escape...” [Excerpt] By Claudia Rankine 

/

I they he she we you turn only to discover the encounter

to be alien to this place.

Wait.

The patience is in the living. Time opens out to you.

The opening, between you and you, occupied, zoned for an encounter,

given the histories of you and you—

And always, who is this you?

The start of you, each day, a presence already—

Hey you—

/

— Halle Smith, Digital Collections Intern Catherine Green (American, born 1952). [Untitled] (West Indian Day Parade), 1991. Chromogenic photograph, sheet. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of the artist, 1991.58.2. © artist or artist's estate 

Ode to Enchanted Light by Pablo Neruda

Under the trees light has dropped from the top of the sky, light like a green latticework of branches, shining on every leaf, drifting down like clean white sand.

A cicada sends its sawing song high into the empty air.

The world is a glass overflowing with water.

Consuelo Kanaga’s black and white photograph captures a dazzling, yet fleeting moment from everyday life. Three textured glasses cast shadows whose patterns are almost kaleidoscopic in effect. We can imagine Kanaga passing by her kitchen table, as she is brought to a halt to take a closer look at, and ultimately to photograph, the simple beauty generated by the play of light and everyday objects. The close-up scale of this image emulates the singularizing framing techniques deployed by Surrealist photographers, who also took parts of everyday life and blew them up in the photographic frame, thereby encouraging their viewers to look at life around us from a different angle. It is a way of saying: Here, take a closer look. Viewing the world with wonder, along with the joy that this act brings, are encapsulated in Pablo Neruda’s poem Ode to Enchanted Light. The speaker observes the way light passes through trees and creates enchanting patterns. He not only observes, but feels the beauty in the simple details of life, from the way light falls from the sky, to the sheen of leaves, to the buzzing of cicadas. Approaching life through such a hopeful lens evokes a glass-half-full perspective. In fact, the speaker is so hopeful that he believes “The world is/a glass overflowing/with water.” I think Kanaga would have felt the same way. 

— Kirk Testa, Curatorial Intern, Photography Consuelo Kanaga (American, 1894-1978). [Untitled] (Glasses and Reflections). Gelatin silver photograph. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Wallace B. Putnam from the Estate of Consuelo Kanaga, 82.65.25

Easter Wings By George Herbert

Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store,

      Though foolishly he lost the same,

            Decaying more and more,

                  Till he became

                        Most poore:

                        With thee

                  O let me rise

            As larks, harmoniously,

      And sing this day thy victories:

Then shall the fall further the flight in me.

My tender age in sorrow did beginne

      And still with sicknesses and shame.

            Thou didst so punish sinne,

                  That I became

                        Most thinne.

                        With thee

                  Let me combine,

            And feel thy victorie:

         For, if I imp my wing on thine,

Affliction shall advance the flight in me.

Easter Wings by George Herbet and Martin Bach’s flower vase from the Brooklyn Museum’s Decorative Arts collection reveal the interrelationship between form and function. In Easter Wings, Herbert strategically varies the line length to create an image that enhances the meaning of the poem; when you turn the poem on its side, it resembles the wings of a bird, of which are symbolic of the atonement of Jesus Christ. In doing so, the author is not only telling us his message, but he is showing it visually as well. Similarly, the vase takes the visual form of its function. Its floral design amplifies the meaning of the object, as the vase is meant to hold flowers. In both instances, we see how aesthetic properties of a work echo the meaning and function of the work itself.

— Amy Zavecz Martin Bach (American, 1862-1921). Vase, ca. 1905. Opalescent glass. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Mrs. Alfred Zoebisch, 59.143.16. Creative Commons-BY 

I am the Earth (Watashi wa chikyu) [Excerpt] by Kiyoko Nagase, Translated by Takako Lento

I am warm, moist soil  I am a single supple stalk  I draw my life  all the way up into corollas of wild berries on the roadside 

I am amazed at  a breast of water welling  to flow into the inlet of a muddy rice paddy  I am amazed at  myself being  hot steam blowing fire and sulfur up  from the bottom of the great ocean, deep indigo.  I am amazed at  the crimson blood flow  covering the earth’s surface in human shape;  I am amazed that it swells as the tides ebb and flow, and gushes out monthly under distant invisible gravity … I am the earth.  I live there, and I am the very same earth. 

In the four billionth year  I have come to know  the eternal cold moon, my other self, my hetero being,  then, for the first time, I am amazed that I am warm mud.

The vivid imagery conjured up by Kiyoko Nagase’s poem is beautifully visualized by Emmi Whitehorse’s painting. The emphasis on deep Earth tones and abstract corporeality in both the poem and the painting really creates an intense metaphysical link between the environment and the self.

— Amanda Raquel Dorval, Archives Intern Emmi Whitehorse (Navajo, born 1957). Fire Weed, 1998. Chalk, graphite, pastel and oil on paper mounted on canvas. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Hinrich Peiper and Dorothee Peiper-Riegraf in honor of Emmi Whitehorse, 2006.49. © artist or artist's estate

Seventh Circle of Earth by Ocean Vuong

On April 27, 2011, a gay couple, Michael Humphrey and Clayton Capshaw, was murdered by immolation in their home in Dallas, Texas.

Dallas Voice

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As if my finger, / tracing your collarbone / behind closed doors, / was enough / to erase myself. To forget / we built this house knowing / it won’t last. How / does anyone stop / regret / without cutting / off his hands? / Another torch

streams through / the kitchen window, / another errant dove. / It’s funny. I always knew / I’d be warmest beside / my man. / But don’t laugh. Understand me / when I say I burn best / when crowned / with your scent: that earth-sweat / & Old Spice I seek out each night / the days

refuse me. / Our faces blackening / in the photographs along the wall. / Don’t laugh. Just tell me the story / again, / of the sparrows who flew from falling Rome, / their blazed wings. / How ruin nested inside each thimbled throat / & made it sing

until the notes threaded to this / smoke rising / from your nostrils. Speak— / until your voice is nothing / but the crackle / of charred

bones. But don’t laugh / when these walls collapse / & only sparks / not sparrows / fly out. / When they come / to sift through these cinders—& pluck my tongue, / this fisted rose, / charcoaled & choked / from your gone

mouth. / Each black petal / blasted / with what’s left / of our laughter. / Laughter ashed / to air / to honey to baby / darling, / look. Look how happy we are / to be no one / & still

American.

Ocean Vuong’s “Seventh Circle of Earth” has persisted as one of the great, affective moments of poetry in my life since I first heard Pádraig Ó Toama’s gorgeous reading and discussion of it on his podcast, Poetry Unbound. I decided to pair Vuong’s poem with Mary Coble’s Untitled 2 (from Note To Self) because both works are urgently immersive into the violence and experience of LGBTQ people in the U.S., and for how each work uses text and physicality to address presence, pain, and erasure. Vuong’s poem is actually footnoted to a quote from a news article about a gay couple murdered in Texas. The page is thus blank, absent of text. The reader has to sink below the main stage, the accepted space of word and story, to find the voices of this couple and the depth of their story’s tenderness, eroticism, and utter devastation. Coble’s piece foils the structure and effect of Seventh Circle of Earth by taking what was subverted by Vuong—text and the narrative of violence—wholly to the surface. Her photograph captures her own legs tattooed without ink with the names of LGBTQ individuals victimized by hate crimes. I cannot help but think of Franz Kafka’s short story “In the Penal Colony,” in which prisoners’ “sentences'' are inscribed by the needle of a “punishment apparatus” directly onto their bodies. I was struck by how the curator’s note for this photograph describes Coble’s artistic endeavor here as “harrowing.” The needle in Kafka’s short story is indeed called “The Harrow”. The noun harrow is an agricultural tool that combs plowed soil to break up clumps of earth and uproot weeds and clear imperfections. The verb to harrow means to plague, and in the story’s original German the verb for “harrow”, eggen,  is also translated as “to torment”. Kafka and Coble conflate these definitions of “the harrow” in their respective works: they use a needled device, like the true noun definition, as an instrument of torment because of someone else’s idea of punishment and justice. Here, violence is brought to the surface, intimate in as much as we are brought right up to the artist’s skin and into the presence of her and her community’s pain. Together, one can see how each creator physicalizes their respective artistic space to tell the stories of LGBTQ people, of what is tender and harrowing, below the surface and written into the skin. 

— Talia Abrahams, Provenance Intern, IHCPP Mary Coble (American, born 1978). Untitled 2 (from Note to Self), 2005. Inkjet print. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of the artist, 2008.10. © artist or artist's estate 

To my daughter Kakuya   by Assata Shakur  

I have shabby dreams for you   of some vague freedom   I have never known.   Baby   I don't want you hungry or thirsty   or out in the cold.   and I don't want the frost   to kill your fruit   before it ripens.   I can see a sunny place  Life exploding green.   I can see your bright, bronze skin at ease with all the flowers   and the centipedes.   I can hear laughter,   not grown from ridicule   And words not prompted   by ego or greed or jealousy.   I see a world where hatred   has been replaced by love.   and ME replaced by WE   And I can see a world replaced                                       where you,   building and exploring,   strong and fulfilled,   will understand.   And go beyond my little shabby dreams. 

This poem is featured in Assata Shakur’s memoir, Assata: An Autobiography. It details her hope for a better world that  her daughter can grow up in. This poem is positioned in the book when Shakur is facing increasing prosecution as a result of her  activism and affiliations with the Black Panther Party and Black Liberation army. Being written more than 30 years after this picture  was taken, the poem summons me to think about the trauma that many Black women face and how much of that trauma gets passed  down to their children. The black and white photo of a mother and daughter provides a nice visual to the poem. “The image of a Black  mother and child sitting on their luggage reflects the little-discussed history of segregated transportation in the northern United States. Through the 1940s, Penn Station officials assigned Black travelers seats in Jim Crow cars on southbound trains” (Brooklyn Museum). The photograph of train passengers waiting outside of Manhattan’s Pennsylvania Station especially echoes the verse “I don’t want you  hungry or thirsty or out in the cold.” The overall optimistic tone of Shakur’s poem alters our relationship to the image as we imagine  the mother pictured above hoping for the exact same things

— Zaria W, Teen Programs intern Ruth Orkin (American, 1921-1985). Mother and Daughter at Penn Station, NYC, 1948. Gelatin silver photograph, sheet: 13 15/16 × 11 in. (35.4 × 27.9 cm). Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Mary Engel, 2011.22.3. © artist or artist's estate

Crunch.  By Kailyn Gibson 

I retch as a mass of sinew lies between my lips.  The sensation is unbearable.  Fortunately, the jar of flies has gone missing again. 

Slowly, surely, and yet never sure at all,  the quiet of buzzing rings through the in-between. 

It is a symphony wrought from blood and bone. 

Saliva drips from bleeding, hungry gums,  And the crunch of glass echoes the grinding of molars.

If I proffered a sanguine smile, would masticated shards look like teeth?  Would they gleam just as prettily?  

The flies ring,  and the rot calls. 

— Kailyn Gibson Edgar Degas (French, 1834-1917). Portrait of a Man (Portrait d'homme), ca. 1866. Oil on canvas. Brooklyn Museum, Museum Collection Fund, 21.112 

Excerpt from Autobiography of Red A novel in verse by Anne Carson

7. If Helen’s reasons arose out of some remark Stesichoros made either it was a strong remark about Helen’s sexual misconduct (not to say its unsavory aftermath the Fall of Troy) or it was not.

8. If it was a strong remark about Helen’s sexual misconduct (not to say its unsavory aftermath the Fall of Troy) either this remark was a lie or it was not.

9. If it was not a lie either we are now in reverse and by continuing to reason in this way we are likely to arrive back at the beginning of the question of the blinding of Stesichoros or we are not.

10. If we are now in reverse and by continuing to reason in this way are likely to arrive back at the beginning of the question of the blinding of Stesichoros either we will go along without incident or we will meet Stesichoros on our way back.

11. If we meet Stesichoros on our way back either we will keep quiet or we will look him in the eye and ask him what he thinks of Helen.

12. If we look Stesichoros in the eye and ask him what he thinks of Helen either he will tell the truth or he will lie.

13. If Stesichoros lies either we will know at once that he is lying or we will be fooled because now that we are in reverse the whole landscape looks inside out.

This excerpt comes from Appendix C of Anne Carson’s Autobiography of Red, a novel in verse. A translator and classicist herself, Carson mixes fact with fiction in her unconventional retelling of the myth of Geryon and Hercules, beginning with a roundabout introduction to the poet Stesichoros. Autobiography presents a captivating example of recent Queer projects that take up Classical material as their basis. A fascination with the Classical past has pervaded our modern conception of sexual identity politics, down to the very etymology of the word “lesbian.” In this fascination, I see the same desire to capture Classical imagery as cultural heritage which has also pervaded American museums, albeit with significantly different aims. The fresco pictured above comes to mind, which passed through many collectors and was even purchased by the museum before anyone pegged it as a modern piece—not an original Roman fresco. John D. Cooney, a 20th century curator of our Egyptian, Classical, and Ancient Near Eastern Art collection, wrote that “the unclad and somewhat winsome charms of the lady [probably] diverted objective glances.” Both in the case of the fresco and Carson’s novel, the “unclad and somewhat winsome charms” of the Classical past shape and reshape our understanding of history.

— Kira Houston, Curatorial Intern, Egyptian, Classical, and Ancient Near Eastern Art Modern, in the style of the Roman Period. Part of a Fresco, early 19th century C.E. Clay, paint. Brooklyn Museum, Ella C. Woodward Memorial Fund, 11.30.

Late Fragment by Raymond Carver From A New Path to the Waterfall, Atlantic Monthly Press, 1989.

And did you get what you wanted from this life, even so? I did. And what did you want? To call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on the earth.

— Shori Diedrick Brackens (American, born 1989). when no softness came, 2019. Cotton and acrylic yarn. Brooklyn Museum, Purchased with funds given by The LIFEWTR Fund at Frieze New York 2019, 2019.12. © artist or artist's estate

Jaguar By Francisco X. Alarcón

some say                                    dicen que ahora                  I'm now almost                           estoy casi extinto       extinct in this park                      por este parque    but the people                            pero la gente who say this                               que dice esto don't know                                 no sabe that by smelling                          que al oler   the orchids                                 las orquídeas in the trees                                 en los árboles they're sensing                          están percibiendo  the fragrance                             la fragancia of my chops                              de mis fauces  that by hearing                          que al oír the rumblingc                            el retumbo of the waterfalls                        de los saltos  

they're listening                         están escuchando          to my ancestors'                       el gran rugido   great roar                                  de mis ancestros

that by observing                      que al observar     the constellations                      las constelanciones     of the night sky                         del firmamento 

they're gazing                           están mirando at the star spots                       las motas de estrellas    on my fur                                  marcadas en mi piel that I am and                            que yo soy always will be                           y siempre seré the wild                                     el indomable

untamed                                  espíritu silvestre living spirit                               vivo de esta of this jungle                            jungla

While the author of the poem speaks about animals, their words can also speak on behalf of the erasure of indigenous peoples in South America. Much like the jaguar, indigenous traditions and culture are very important to life in South America. Despite their marginalization, Indigenous peoples throughout the Andes used coca leaves to help with the altitude. The use and cultivation of coca are criminalized throughout most of South America despite it being essential to indigenous cultures. This vessel was used to contain lime which would activate the coca leaves.  Much like the jaguar, indigenous traditions are also faced with endangerment despite being woven into the fabric that is Latin America. Through the opposite man and woman figures, the vessel shows the duality that is important to the Quimbaya people which is still relevant to Colombians today.

Aunque el autor del poema habla sobre los animales, sus palabras también comunican el sentimiento común de la supresión de los indígenas en Suramérica. Con la mención del jaguar, se puede entender en el poema que la cultura y las tradiciones de las personas que son indígenas son sumamente importantes para la vida en Sudamérica. A pesar de su marginación, los indígenas en Los Andes utilizan la hoja de coca para ayudar en la altura de las montañas. El uso y el cultivo de la hoja de coca fue criminalizado (penalizado) a través de Sudamérica, aunque su uso para los indígenas era vital y esencial para su cultura. Este recipiente que se utiliza contiene limón lo que activa la hoja de la coca. Similarmente al jaguar, las tradiciones de los indígenas siempre estaban en peligro aunque estuvieran entrelazadas en las telas de lo que sería Latinoamérica. A través del hombre opuesto y las figuras de mujeres, el recipiente muestra la dualidad de lo que es importante para las personas que son Quimbaya, algo que todavía hoy es relevante para los Colombianos.

— Jeffrey Alexander Lopez, Curatorial Intern, American Art & Arts of the Americas Quimbaya. Poporo (Lime Container), 1-600 C.E. Tumbaga. Brooklyn Museum, Alfred W. Jenkins Fund, 35.507. Creative Commons-BY 

[tiktaalic]

I've never watch good omens and never know anything abt the general fandom around it.. only that Misha and the actor in the show who is not David Tennant did a video together???

I wanna know why this announcement of season 2 is eliciting such might I say visceral reactions???

I'm extremely curious!!

so. ok. this is a 30 minute read but very comprehensive and encapsulates my feelings very closely. some context:

i read the book when i was 12, then reread it every yr and called it my favorite book. ihave the matching black and white versions of the book.

i was never super into azcrow? i poked around back in the day for sure but only because that was what you Did if you poked around online for gomens. it's got some trappings for sure but i didn't feel intrigued enough or baited enough to actually care about it or ever really think about it

the book came out in 1990. that is a LOT of time for neil gaiman to be able to go On The Record with his thoughts. not going to dig for receipts but literally for decades up until the MONTH before the show came out. there are literally countless instances of him basically saying #notmycanon but yall have fun in your noncanon space who am i to stop you. i VERY clearly remember a post he made about digging through the good omens tag on tumblr and how weird it was to see explicit azcrow.

in the lead up to show, he made a lot MORE statements because people were like. owo azcrow? and he. AGAIN. explicitly and clearly said #notmycanon #notmyshow but yall have fun with it. it's not what i put in the text tho.

ALSO before the show he made a #diversitywin announcement about how there would be a canon nonbinary character! pollution. now we dont have time to unpack all that,

anyway. timeline shift. the show is out! cool. it treads some old queerbaiting grounds. wall shoves, aziraphale arguing with crowley in public then a guy coming to say "dont worry mate i've had the same fight with my boyfriend you'll work it out" and an angel derogatorily calling crowley az's boyfriend. yknow the greatest hits of bait.

show materials start filtering out. interviews, scripts, etc. michael sheen starts talking about how he played az as in love. scripts, etc, show that the scenes people are touting as HE WAS IN LOVE HERE were sheen choices which is also evidenced by the way he talks about it, and not directions from gaiman.

reaction from general audience is very haha cool show. neil gaiman is like :) thank you for liking my cool show.

reaction from johnlock refugees is very omg squee gay babies. in the interest of fairness this is said by actual gay people

people start @-ing him on twitter about azcrow canon. like a lot of people. articles start coming out about azcrow canon. glowing articles. neil in his little rat brain goes. hm.

SUDDENLY. neil is retweeting azcrow praise. saying it is a love story. written as a love story. always was a love story.

SUDDENLY. azcrow is #allorientations. he retweets articles where people think they are STRICTLY platonic and says yeah that's canon. he retweets stuff about them being asexual and says yeah that's canon. he retweets stuff about them being in love and says yeah that's canon. someone says oh so they're gay? and he goes NO they're angels they're not human they're genderless they cant be gay (this is the man who wrote a doctor who episode where the doctor fell in straight love with the TARDIS machine)

SUDDENLY. azcrow are canon nonbinary. didn't you catch the little reference here and there? i'm glad somebody did, neil says. would like to draw your attention BACK to the fact that when he did his nonbinary announcement back BEFORE the show aired, it was about pollution and only pollution

neil's twitter feed is now entirely retweeted praise of how Meaningful it is that azcrow is canon but Subtle and how it's GREAT rep for queerplatonic arosexual demissjdfjtjljiaw8 u49tp q4wt

i lose my entire motherfucking mind over the fact that everyone is not only allowing but encouraging this scam to happen

[ahsbitch]

Something Strange In The Air (Part 2)

Word Count: 2544

Summary: In the aftermath of your...incident with Michael, you’re still tumbling to figure out what you’re doing. 

Warnings: It’s probably bad idk, oral (male receiving), face fucking, degradation, Mean!Michael & Being Mean To Michael, blue balls, waxing poetic, lots of cursing (as always), idk i can’t think of any others 

A/N: Sorry this is really short and sorry it took so long I’m in college so I’ve been busy and I was writing a oneshot for a different fandom which took some time, the next chapter will have more plot to it and stuff I promise, my apologies for shitty writing and being a super slow writer, I’m doing my best I promise. As always, comments (even just in the tags) are always ultra appreciated!!!!!

Mini Tags: @wroteclassicaly @1-666-coven @michaellangdonstanaccount uhhh there are others but i can’t remember if i forgot to tag you i’m sorry pls remind me 

ALSO I PUT IN THE KEEP READING THING BUT IT REFUSES TO WORK SO SORRY ABOUT THAT

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was poetry flashing through your mind.

Some say the world will end in fire

Bits and pieces. 

Death, be not proud

You couldn’t get him off your mind. 

Doing a man’s work, though a child at heart 

Couldn’t get your dream off your mind. 

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams 

The way he had looked at you, in it, how he had held your hand.

He kindly stopped for me-

Michael often called you little witch,

Leave my loneliness unbroken 

But he had never called you his little witch, as he had in the dream. 

There will be time to murder and create

He was beautiful, almost angelic in appearance, you had to admit.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

And he pulled you in, in spite of how hard you tried to ignore it

I can no longer remain away from you

It was almost disgusting, how much you thought about him. 

Curse, bless, me now with your tears, I pray

There was something about him that frightened you.

One short sleep past, we wake eternally

A lot about him that frightened you, actually. 

A waking on a morn

“Y/N,” Cordelia spoke, and you could tell from her tone that this wasn’t the first time she’d said your name, “Are you with me?” 

Shit, you’d gotten distracted. 

You’d been called to a meeting in Cordelia’s office, made it to one of the chairs, and immediately spaced out. 

You hadn’t really seen Michael in almost a week, nothing more than passing glimpses in the halls and quick pulses of his energy in the air. You’d been avoiding him. Or maybe he’d been avoiding you. Honestly, you couldn’t remember. You hadn’t spent a single night in your bedroom, instead floating around to parties and going to the swamps to practice your magic rather than spend time in the study room. 

Fuck, things were getting complicated.

“I’m with you,” You smiled cautiously at her, “I’m sorry.” 

She smiled back, something you couldn’t quite determine just behind her eyes. Concern, of course, her whole aura was clearly very concerned, but something else, and then she was speaking, her voice as calm as ever, “Don’t be sorry. Are you feeling okay?” 

Of course not.

“Of course I am!” 

“Try again,” Her hands were folded neatly on her desk, and you dropped your gaze to look at them, Cordelia’s words making you feel a strange sense of shame, “I’m a little worried about you, Y/N.” 

Your ears were burning, your heart jumping wildly in your chest, “I’m sorry.” 

She sighed, shaking her head, “Don’t be sorry. Just... what’s going on with you? What’s going on between you and Michael Langdon?”

Shit.

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t been sleeping in your room, or studying in the house,” Cordelia looked at you strangely, and you held your breath, “Have you still been fighting?”

She didn’t know.

Thank fuck. 

“Yes,” You responded, perhaps a little too quickly, “Yes, we have. We just can’t seem to agree on anything.”

Not entirely untrue.

She nodded sympathetically, and you were relieved to feel that she believed that was it, “I’m sorry. I feared something like this might happen. But Y/N, you need to return to your room.You can’t be out every night, and you can’t do all of your studying in the swamps. You’re still a student here. You have to be present, at least sometimes.”

“Okay,” Nodding, you worked on getting your breathing fully back to normal, “I’ll be back in my room tonight.” 

“Good,” Cordelia reached out and squeezed your hand gently, “I’m proud of you, Y/N. You are a powerful witch, and a good woman. I believe in you.” 

Not able to make yourself respond, you simply flashed her a smile and bolted for the door, blinking back tears.

Fuck, she’d bee so disappointed if she knew the truth. 

You were barely out of the office when the door to a closet opened and someone tugged you inside, slamming it shut. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What the fuck, Michael?” You snapped, blinking into the darkness. 

Michael’s hand clamped over your mouth as he let out a growl, “Be quiet, little witch.” 

You worked your mouth until you managed to clamp your teeth onto the skin of his palm, biting as hard as you could. 

“Fuck,” He hissed, jerking away from you, “That hurt!”

“Good,” Glaring, you reached for the cord on the light and tugged on it, the weak bulb flickering overhead, “What the fuck?”

Glowering at you in the dim light, Michael crossed his arms, “What did Cordelia want?”

“None of your business.”

“I’m pretty sure it is,” Shaking his head, he scoffed at you, “It was about me, wasn’t it? Does she know?” 

It was childish to play dumb, and you knew that, but you were doing it anyway, “Does she know what? Why would we want to talk about you?” 

It took only a single step for Michael to back you against the wall, pinning you there with his hips, "Don’t even bother with that shit. Answer the fucking question.” 

You shoved at his chest, although even you had to admit that it was a halfhearted push. His proximity, especially after so long away from him, was overwhelming, and you felt your mind slipping to a place you didn’t want it to be, “Get the fuck away from me, asshole.” 

Another shove, and he wrapped his hands around your wrists, holding them over your head, “You weren’t asking me to do that last time we saw each other, were you, little witch? Now. Does Cordelia know?” 

“No,” Growling, you tried in vain to pull your hands back, “We talked about you, but she doesn’t know about that. Now let me go.” 

Tilting his head to the side, Michael laughed at you, “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re not the one in charge here.”

“Fuck you,” You spat, beginning to shake with something between fury and a feeling that you didn’t quite want to acknowledge.

“This is a pretty color,” Michael shifted both of your wrists to one hand and brought the other down to trail across your lips, tapping at the soft flesh, smudging a bit of the golden sheen, “Did you put this on for me?” 

Ever since that day in the study room, not that day but the one before, you had taken to wearing more and more lipstick, coating your lips in a new color everyday. 

Today was gold, one that shimmered when the light hit it, and if you were honest, yes, you did put it on for Michael. Every time you reapplied a coat of lipstick, today and every other, he flashed through your mind, the sneer on his features, the echo of his words in your ear when his fingers were down your throat. 

“You look good like this...Gagging...You wear revealing clothes and you act like you’re doing it for yourself...But really you’re just a dumb, depraved, desperate little whore who wants nothing more than to be dicked down by your rival.” 

Fuck, just thinking about it sent a wave of wetness gushing through you, and you tensed your legs in an effort to ignore it, and the smirk on Michael’s face told you that he had noticed. 

Yes, you were wearing it for him. 

“No,” You had to crane your head to glare at him with how close he was, “I don’t know if this is the first time you’re hearing this, but not everything is about you, Boy Wonder.” 

He hummed, drawing his fingers along your cheekbone, and you cursed yourself for the way you leaned into the contact ever so subtly. After a moment he pressed his lips against yours, and although you fought to keep yourself in control, to keep from kissing him back, cursing yourself once again when you couldn’t hold yourself back, your noses smashing against one another, your mouth slipping open with a groan, quickly intruded upon by Michael’s tongue, which battled fiercely with yours. 

And then suddenly he pulled away from you and stepped back, and you fell to your knees as he chuckled, his hands unbuckling his belt, “All the same, little bitch, I think that color would look wonderful smeared all over my cock, don’t you?” 

“I fucking hate you,” You glared up at him through your eyelashes as one of his hands gripped your hair, the other pulling his dick out of the confines of his slacks. 

“That just makes this all the more pathetic, doesn’t it?” He slapped your cheek with his dick gently, and it wasn’t lost on you how perfect it was, the size and the ridging and and the pulsing veins and the furious pink of the tip all making your mouth water, “Get up and walk away if you want, little witch bitch. But I don’t think you will. I think you want this. I think that being a little whore is the calling you’re pulled to most.” 

Get up and walk away.

You could do that. 

He pulled his hand from your hair, letting your head drop back, and you knew that if you moved to stand he would release you, would let you go. His precum had leaked onto your face as he continued to hit your cheeks, waiting to see what you would do. 

Just get up and walk away. 

But you couldn’t, couldn’t bring yourself to walk away without having the chance to taste him, not when the very thought was sending arousal roaring through you, and while you wished you could directly blame this on Michael, could say that his magic was holding you in place, that simply wasn’t it. 

You opened your mouth as wide as you could and in an instant his cock was down your throat, Michael setting off to fuck your face at an intense pace. 

Gagging, you brought your hands up to his thighs, and when your nails scratched against his legs through the fabric or his dress pants Michael let out a high, desperate groan. 

Although you couldn’t quite smile at that, with how full your mouth was, there was a little voice gloating in the back of your head, and you squeezed his thigh tightly, drinking down his moans as you moved until his own back had hit the wall, his hands desperately moving from your hair to your shoulders to simply slamming down on either side of his body. 

“Your mouth is good for something, I guess,” Michael grunted, as though he wasn’t as desperate for you as you had been for him a week ago, “You’re much prettier when you’re not talking, did you know that?” 

You managed to flick back your middle finger enough to flip him off, although you didn’t pull back to make a verbal response. There was something urgent about this, and the idea of dropping him from your mouth seemed too great a sacrifice to make, when the harmony of Michael’s shockingly soft, animalistic moans mixed with the lewd, wet noises of his dick hitting the back of your throat was so disgustingly lovely. 

Michael’s hands twitched, as though he was going to grab at your hair again, and at that moment he seemed to finally notice your own magic in the air, holding his wrists in place.

“You little bitch,” He snarled, straining against the magic, but all he could do was buck his hips into your mouth even harder, letting out a hiss as your teeth grazed him, as your tongue swirled around his head, “Let me go.” 

But where’s the fun in that? 

You didn’t let him go, and you didn’t stop. If anything, you grew more intense, your hands managing all over him, sneaking past the fabric of his clothes to leave angry scratches on his skin, so smooth underneath your touch. Eventually one of them trailed to his balls, tugging and toying with them roughly as he began to strain even harder, began to make a choked noise at the back of his throat that made your thighs clench, and you knew he was going to cum soon. 

You pulled your mouth off of him. 

He looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, panting, desperate, watching as you trailed your tongue over every inch of his dick, pulling his balls into your mouth and sucking them slowly, and finally you pressed a kiss to the skin just above his cock and leaned back with a grin.

“What the fuck,” Michael growled, although his face showed a kind of manic desperation that he clearly wasn’t used to, “Get back to it!”

“No, I don’t think I will,” Your smile got even wider, although your mouth was sore and your voice scratchy, you decided it was worth it, “You call me a little bitch all the time, but who’s the bitch now, Boy Wonder?” 

“Y/N, I’m serious. I will ruin you,” Snarling in spite of the pained expression starting to grow on his face, he thrusted against you, and you let out a giggle at that. 

“It’s so cute that you say that while you’re humping my leg like an unfixed puppy,” Shaking your head, you took a step back, out of the range of his hips, and looked down to admire his flushed, throbbing dick, “You were right, y’know. The gold does look good on there .Especially the contrast it has with the blue of your balls.”

He looked down to see that your words were true, the skin becoming overtaken with a pale, bruise like color, and when Michael looked back up at you there was something murderous in his eyes, “Quit fucking around. Let me go, and finish.” 

“Why should I?”

Arms straining against their magical containment, face twisting with the growing pain in his balls, Michael’s voice had grown croaky, “Do it. I will never touch you again, if you walk away from this, do you get that you desperate little whore? You want me. You need me. Do what I fucking tell you.” 

“I think there’s been a serious misunderstanding here, Langdon. I don’t need anything from you. You keep saying you’re the one in charge, but look at you. You’re nothing but a little blonde bimbo. So fuck you,” You scoffed, trailing a single hand across his chest and giving his nipple a harsh pinch, letting out a laugh at his angered whine, “And by the way, Cordelia says I have to move back into our room. I’ll be back tonight. I’ll see you whenever you get around to being the powerful warlock everyone thinks you are and break through my magic.”

With that, you pressed a quick, chaste kiss to the corner of his lip and turned away, not bothering to fix your own appearance before you went out, turning the light off before you closed Michael in the closet. 

You were proud of yourself, you had to admit. 

Scared, perhaps, of what he might do, and curious as to whether or not he’d keep the promise that he’d never touch you again-not that you wanted him to, of course, you were just curious-but you were proud all the same. 

Fucking Michael Langdon. 

[gingiekittycat]

God I didn’t notice Aziraphale's expression in this scene. GOD. He looks as high as Crowley is.

This is where he's calling him "nice" again, right? He's 100% being a bastard about it. 10000%, he knows what he's doing here. And then... if you think about the wall slam from S1... Aziraphale has just been waiting. He's just been waiting for Crowley to lose his shit, because every time he calls him "nice" Crowley gets closer to rage, to physical violence, and there is a fine line between rage and passion, and Aziraphale knows it.

In conclusion: Aziraphale is a horny kinky bastard and I am here for it

(also Michael Sheen how do you do this, how, how are you doing this with your face and your body language in every damn scene, honestly, have pity, Jesus Christ)

The fingertips going to pinch the knot of the bowtie though... and Aziraphale just drifting towards Crowley as if Crowley had actually drawn him to him...

...wait, *did* he draw Aziraphale to him?

Love how smitten Aziraphale is that this point seems debatable lol.

[calpops]

sweet meetings | m.c.

Anonymous: eve!!! i can't stop thinking about baker!michael it is SO soft my heart!! imagine you work at cal and ash's record store, mainly on the weekends but sometimes during the week, bc you're studying, and at first you go into the bakery for a coffee and a quick bite to eat before shifts but when you notice how cosy it is you think it might be a great place to study, not to mention there's a really cute guy working there, n mike of course takes notice of you, at first u share simple pleasantries but the more u come in the faster it evolves into easy banter, soft laughter and shared smiles, he knows how u take ur coffee and why u prefer the blueberry muffins over the apple cinnamon and when you start coming to study, bag overflowing w books and a battered laptop, mike can’t help but watch u in the quiet moments, eyes focused on ur work n fingers carefully pulling off pieces of ur muffin and one day he works up the nerve to sit w you on his break, coming over w a nervous smile but you’re so happy n surprised, unsure if he saw anything more than a regular who he got on well with!! now it seems all the soft smiles n lingering gazes n times ur fingers brushed when he handed you ur food before work have evolved into something more!! so this becomes a regular occurrence for the two of u and wow i don’t know this could go on forever because i am so so so soft for michael look what u have done to me eve!!!!! i cant even be mad cuz ily

I went a little overboard with this and added some concepts. Hope that’s okay!

Word count: 2k

***

You often find yourself in a rush. Never having enough time between working at a record shop, doing classes online and living the rest of your life to stop and enjoy moments for what they’re really worth. Rushing is a habit for you; second nature and easy. You realize it’s too easy, that time slips past you and hurtles on whether you’re aware of it or not. Your life is a whirlwind and you’re determined to enjoy the breeze once and a while. With this realization and determination you stop. Stop running from place to place and take your time. Take time for yourself. It’s a mild morning when you slowly stroll up to the bakery across from the record shop. Your boss Ashton always raves about the iced coffee and Calum has found more than just the treats to be sweet. It’s calm inside, the morning rush over—a sweet spot of time in between morning coffee needs and lunchtime cravings. It’s quaint and quiet and a complete contrast to the way you usually live your life.

There’s no line when you walk in. Desserts and pastries of all kinds sit behind glass and a handwritten menu board dominates the wall above. It’s written in white chalk with special menu items erased and rewritten likely by the day. Everything looks delectable and you’re glad to have taken some time to come inside. A swinging door to the back—probably leading to the kitchen—opens as the front door behind you shuts. A man around your age comes through, his blonde hair tucked under a black cap and the black apron around his waist dusted with patches of white flour. The name tag on his apron says Michael, well, the el is smudged with some ingredient that obscures part of the letters but you surmise Michael must be what’s hidden underneath. You haven’t made up your mind by the time he asks for your order and you’re slightly taken aback at his soft voice and meeting his gentle green eyes.

You stumble over your words a bit when usually you’d be in a hurry to get them out. You finally decide. “A blueberry muffin, please.”

You see a tilt of a smile as he looks down to the baked goods below and comes back with your order; wraps it in a thin sheet of paper and asks if it’s for here or to go. You notice the tables by the windows, each one with a vase of flowers and natural sunlight. Some have chairs with comfortable cushions and the others have booth seats that seem inviting. The bag on your shoulder is heavy; filled with your academics. The tables seem a nice place to study. In your determination to enjoy the breeze you choose to stay. You tell him it’s for here and pay and try not to think about the brush of your fingers against his when he hands the muffin over.

You find a home at a booth, bag resting on the seat beside you as you take a moment to savor the burst of blueberry and sugar on the top of your tongue. You decide in that moment that slowing down and taking your time is worth every second spent. You face toward the counter and kitchen door, opting to face away from the street where a busy city lurks beyond. A sense of calm clings to you as you finish the baked good and decide to stay a while longer—wanting to try the iced coffee Ashton raves about and settle in to pace yourself on work stacked in your bag. You find solace in the quiet yet a nervous energy settles and sparks in you any time Michael makes his way out of the kitchen as a few customers come and go. By the time you’re ready to leave you catch eyes with him one more time and he waves, a small smile giving you a goodbye and a reason to come back the next day.

And so the bakery becomes a new habit—the best way to break one is to replace it with another. Rushing melts away and the bakery becomes a beacon of downtime. Michael becomes a person you look forward to seeing. In a sense he becomes routine. Just as easy as rushing. You always exchange glances when he peeks out from the kitchen to inspect the run of the bakery. He usually blushes when you catch gazes, cheeks going rosy and a timid smile capturing his features. You see the smile in his eyes, green glinting and glimmering with a bashfulness that endears and intrigues you. There’s a lot you wish to know about Michael.

He knows enough about you through your interactions. How you take your coffee, that you prefer hot chocolate to it but need the caffeine to keep you going. Why blueberry anything is the superior choice. He’s even asked about your work and classes, about the books you seem to carry with you all the time. He’s eyes are observant and his mind has flawlessly put together small pieces of you. Weeks pass in a hazy blur as you learn to slow down and spend more and more time at the bakery. Breaks from work lead you there. Mornings before and nights after usually have you stopping in.

There’s an air of mystery and elusiveness that follows the baker. What you know is minimal and trivial, even as the weeks pass and more than simple hello’s and please and thank you’s become exchanged. He seems guarded and you have no reason as to why that might be so. But you find yourself coming back consistently. Now a regular that walks in and is recognized by any and all staff. You sit in your usual booth and after catching gazes with Michael multiple times you wonder if the stirring of feelings that have made way into you are completely one sided. Maybe all he sees in you is a customer. Maybe it is purely business for him. Maybe slowing down has put a hazy sheen on reality when you’re so used to fast paces.

Your pencil taps along a text book page as your thoughts consume you, eyes glued to the menu board and teeth sunken into your lower lip. It isn’t until a small voice from below breaks through your reverie that you find familiar eyes. Gentle green stares up at you behind a mess of blond hair. A boy not but three or four reaches up, a small muffin in his clutches. It takes a moment for you to realize he’s offering the baked good to you. As soon as you reach for it Michael is bursting through the kitchen door and racing over to the child, scooping him up and trying his best to apologize and inform you that wasn’t supposed to be for a customer, just practice for his son.

In one snap moment all the haze clears but new questions take hold of your mind. You realize why he’s so guarded but have to question if there’s a reason he never told you. You realize it doesn’t matter for the moment. Not when a child’s innocent eyes are pinned on you; awaiting a reaction to the muffin still in your loose grip. You know Michael said it’s not meant for you but the look in his son’s eyes clearly says that it is. You take a small bite and grin, compliment the good work and hear Michael sigh in relief as he sets his son back down.

“Blueberry’s your favorite right? That’s what dad says.”

You nod and feel a rush of warmth at the question and the fact that Michael has spoken of you in any capacity to his son.

“Riley, bud—why don’t you go behind the counter. There’s some cookies you can have,” Michael suggests with a blush that also suggests his embarrassment at the situation. Riley takes off and Michael calls after him. “Only two!”

Michael turns back to you with anxiety written clearly across his face. His hands wring at each other and his eyes flicker to the booth seat opposite you. You motion for him to sit; curious what he might say.

“I’m sorry about all of that; he’s usually pretty good at sticking with me. He’s just a little excited today,” Michael explains and you arch an eyebrow.

You close your textbook, the prospect of studying blown out the window in a new whirlwind created by a four year old. You can feel your heart beating fast and hard in your chest. You never expected Michael to have a kid.

Michael goes on to explain and settle the nerves that seem to have exploded through you. “I usually only get him on the weekends and in summer. But his mom’s on her honeymoon and I get him for a whole week. He loves the bakery; getting to come with me every day has gotten him a bit unruly. All the sugar...” Michael says with a pointed look at the counter where another worker stands while Riley sits and eats his allotted two cookies.

Michael keeps explaining and it’s as if whatever guards he had up come crashing down. He tells you all about Riley and co-parenting. That he and the bakery take up most of his time and you realize that maybe he was living in a rush and whirlwind too. And by the way his eyes stay on yours and hands fidget on the tabletop you wonder if he doesn’t just see you as a customer and that’s why he stayed guarded for so long. To protect his whirlwind and everything within it; mostly Riley. You understand his reason as he comes barreling back to Michael, coloring books and a pack of crayons in hand.

“Can I color here?” He asks and climbs up into the booth and clears Michael’s lap to settle by the wall before an answer can be formed.

You grin and try your best to bite back a laugh as Michael tries to reason with him and tell him he shouldn’t disturb anyone. Riley merely blinks and looks to you to see if it’s okay. You nod your approval and enjoy your time with Michael and Riley. You’re in no rush to leave; wanting to use any time with them to the fullest.

A new routine forms throughout the week. It’s much of the same but with company. You sit in your usual booth and Riley sits opposite you. Textbooks and coloring books, graphite pencils and crayons spilled among the shared table. Michael often checks on Riley. And from that he ends up spending time with you. Everyday you learn more about them. Everyday your whirlwinds become more and more intertwined. Riley sometimes draws you pictures, the one of Michael with hands three times the size of his head and two left feet being your favorite. Riley mirrors Michael in a lot of ways you come to realize; the same laugh and sincerity in green eyes.

By the end of the week you realize Riley won’t be there come Monday and know that you’ll miss his company and the excuse for Michael to constantly check in. It’s just as you’re about to leave that Michael stops you, a sheepish expression and rosy cheeks, nervous hands and Riley by his side.

“We uh—“ Michael starts, clearly anxious. “We wanted to know if you’d like to go to dinner with us tonight?”

Your stomach flutters and heart races at the invitation. But Michael’s continuing on before you can say yes.

“And lunch, with me… tomorrow?”

You break out into a grin and nod enthusiastically; ever grateful for sweet meetings with blueberry muffins and time taken to enjoy the breeze. 

You can already feel Michael’s whirlwind sweeping you off your feet.

***

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[alloutofgoddesses]

Prodigal Son S2, E01

(Spoilers ahead, obviously)

- WE’RE BACK BABY!! God I’m so happy!

- Oh no that’s not how you want things to- goddammit Bright

- “Ledge stuff” “It’s been a hell of a year” I missed this show

- Yeah no it’s not fam

- Once again, I ask you why you changed your name if you just go around telling everyone anyway

- Just Malcolm being Malcolm I see

- JT HAS A BEARD

- Martin! Poor guy lol

- “Please say it’s cancer”

- Oh what we’re weaving COVID into the storyline. Okay.

- Hi Ainsley, how are you?

- Wait what Gil is still in the hospital

- Aw what a lovely big brother move, even if it’s going to make you feel like shit

- Oh shit! The body has been found!

- Hi Mr. David

- Is Martin... okay? I don’t think he is.

- Please tell me that bastard has a cellmate

- Oh we’re really going for it with the BLM cop storyline

- “the ‘Dreese” MA’AM I MISSED YOU THE MOST

- That’s... disgusting oof

- I should not be as excited about the guillotine as I am

- Edrisa & Malcolm should bang at least once. Personally Dani & Malcolm is my preferred endgame but it’s what Edrisa deserves

- HELL YES BITCH GOT A ROOMATE

- It’s what you deserve, even if you are Michael Sheen

- I am also curious about Estonia but I’ll let it pass

- So Jer-Bear is gonna be dead in ten minutes

- Gil! Hello sir!

- Jessica & Gil are just vibin

- Oof that’s very aesthetically pleasing blood splatter tho

- Murder house? Why is this place being used as a murder house?

- It’s Malcolm what did you expect Dani

- Malcolm’s hair is 10/10

- This is the second time this episode Malcolm has teased being an actual killer I don’t like it

- Christ Malcolm is terrifying

- And being balls to the walls while you’re at it but okay

- “It’s Texas” I love shitting on Texas so I’m having fun

- Holy shit Martin. But really they shouldn’t have put someone in with him, especially after he just got out of gen. pop.

- Ha Jerry isn’t dead & just got shock therapy

- Dani just wants her family to be safe aww. But also it’s none of your business.

- They are cursed, absolutely; but it’s rude to say that out loud

- Sunshine!

- Oh shit he’s in the apartment

- No one better hurt Sunshine I stg

- Bro you should really put locks on your weapon cases

- Well actually I know someone who uses a scimitar...

- No it’s not your hair but fam you have The Murder Vibes and always have

- That desk has to be mahogany and you axed it sir

- Oh look you’re using a scimitar Malcolm

- Oh so we are REALLY going for the BLM cop storyline... please do this well... 😬😬

- Gil hello sir

- Always a bad idea... so of course he does it

- Fucking hate Martin. I hope you get shocked by a wire every day of your life

- Oh hey Sabrina helped edit! Yay Sabrina!