#the way

[seokminfilm]

okay so i gave in and read it and holy mackerel.

˗ˏˋ  AS THE SUN HITS ; l. seokmin ´ˎ˗

she'll be waiting, with her cool things, and her heaven. (7.6k+)

⋆ SYNOPSIS. ― you were his muse, the motivation behind every note he strummed on his lyre, and every verse he sang. but now the air that would rush through his lungs as he'd sing could only be pried from your cold dead hands.

⋆ INFO. ― angst, fluff, ancient greece!au, historical fantasy!au, greek mythology!au, hurt no comfort

⋆ PAIRING. ― orpheus!dokyeom x eurydice!reader

⋆ PRNS. ― they / them

⋆ CW. ― MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, blood, seokmin can carry the reader, seokmin is afraid of dying cus of hubris, hades!minghao and persephone!jun take on gender fluid-esque forms for my sake (dont question it), mentions of starving, s3xu4l 4ssault mention (verbal), alcohol, food, kissing, pet names (my love, darling), possible historical/mythological inaccuracies, mentions of a beheading, mentions of poisoning, mentions of vomitting, light smut mention (if u blink u probs won't notice)

⋆ 💬.  ― special thanks to @seokmn for proof-reading!! inspired by a post which quite literally stated "orpheus seokmin x eurydice reader" BUT I LOST IT I WANT TO CRYYY. basically op wanted somebody to write something along those premises so i done just that (not shocked if somebody else got to it first tbh...) IF SO THIS WAS NOT COPIED FROM ANYBODY INTENTIONALLY THIS CAME OUT OF MY TINY BRAIN. i forgot who the original poster is but if anybody figures it out PLEASE TELL ME IMMIDIETALLY !!! this idea isnt mine i just wanted to bring it to life :(

Seokmin's favourite pastime was to have you running your hands through his hair. He loved the way your fingers gently brushed through his scalp, as you coaxed him with sweet nothings after a long day. It's what kept Seokmin going, his knees buckling as the musician climbed the hill to your cottage. Every day followed a very specific routine, you would be diligently looking over your garden, and he would wrap his arms around your waist from behind. It was your voice that renewed his love for music. Every word you spoke perfectly pieced together like a song. The way the corners of your mouth curled into a cheeky smile, the shape reminiscent of his lyre. Everything about you sounded right. It's why you made so much sense as his fiance.

Domestic life, despite his rich imagination, was something Seokmin never envisioned. He had travelled across the globe, seeing all that grew upon Gaia's skin. Kings had discovered his talent from messengers, and out of curiosity, invited him to perform. Everybody that heard his voice was bewitched, with rumours spreading that he was Apollo, the God of the Sun and Music taking on a mortal disguise! For his performances, Seokmin had been offered sparkling gems from the King of the Sea, pearlescent ivory from foreign lands in the South, and olive oil that flowed like honey from the finest of orchards. But Seokmin believed the best gift he had received was the gift of song. The gift of your song. With your song came his most stunning melodies. Melodies which tell the story of a wandering bard’s love for a valley nymph, an auloniad. The bard had only hoped the auloniad would notice him. Fortunately, Seokmin could conclude that the bard had a happy ending, because he was living it.

"You've been working too hard, Minnie."  you giggled as you gently tucked a flower behind his ear. You two sat quietly on your shared bed. Seokmin felt his body sink deeper into the linen with how gentle you were, treating him like he was made from the finest glass. Even with his eyes closed, could feel the warmth of your gaze. "You should tell the King to give you a day off, spend it with me, no?" you winked at the man, whose head rested on your lap. A blissful smile rested on his features. He looked angelic with the way the sunset cast its glow upon him.

"My love, he's invited to our wedding tomorrow! I can't afford to accidentally disrespect him. You know how these things work. There are too many stories of courtesans being beheaded; you don't want your fiance dead just before the fun starts!" he laughed. "Wait— are you planning on getting rid of me!?" his eyes looked like they were about to fall out of his sockets.

"Well, your big brother Wonwoo has been looking so good after becoming a scholar in Athens. It would help if you were out of the picture," you smirked, eager to see your fiance's reaction. Seokmin scoffed loudly, getting up from your lap.

"I'll kill Wonwoo before he can even see you!" Seokmin jokingly yelled before tackling you into the bed to be tickled mercilessly. You squealed "stop" repeatedly as your laugh filled the small house. Seokmin was pleased with your reaction, and finally released you from his grasp. He was hovering on top of you, hair falling in front of his eyes. You wanted every day to be like this. You wanted to see that same hair of his turn white and his face aged with time. You wanted to drown in his neverending love. Marriage would finally make you one being, an entity that shares a future and a past, and two breaths walking.

"I can't wait for us to get married tomorrow," Seokmin sighed, as he reached for your hand to kiss. You smiled as his lips brushed against your knuckles. You had heard from fellow nymphs that marriage was a poison that seeped into your bones, immobilizing you and keeping you trapped in a moment. Nymphs were born to be nothing more than bargain pieces, their names alone meaning "bride". However, you begged to differ.

When it came to Seokmin, you felt free. Never did you feel that you were inferior. Waking up next to him peacefully sleeping, as he spooned you. His soft pleas for you to "stay in bed a little longer". When he'd come home from a long day of performances and litter your face with the sweetest kisses, where he would thank you for "being his muse". Looking into his eyes after a long day felt like staring into the wide skies in the valleys you would live in.

You couldn't wait for tomorrow to come.

"You look good," Wonwoo chuckled as he placed a wreath of gold leaves on his younger brother's head. Seokmin took a good look at himself in the mirror, the gold illuminating the spark in his eyes. It was Wonwoo's wedding gift he brought with him from Athens. His brother supposedly enlisted the best of the best goldsmiths with the very little money he had left to his name to make the stunning crown. The gold metal felt heavy on Seokmin's head, but your love was something he would proudly wear.

It was the day of your wedding. Seokmin had invited his human friends he had met on his adventures, and you invited nymphs of every kind. It was still early in the morning, much before the ceremony would commence in the evening (a personal touch Seokmin included; he remembered how you would get up in the middle of the night to stargaze). Still, the garden was bustling with life. He could hear the joyous hollering of well-wishers from outside his thin house walls.

"Look at you, getting married before me." Wonwoo teased. "I thought you were going to die in a tavern as a spinster— thank the Gods that you found [Name] before you met your fate drunk in a random street."

"Please, I'm not THAT miserable." Seokmin pouted at his brother's remarks. Seokmin's chest heaved. He wanted to see you, he wanted to kiss the bridge of your nose and tell him he was honoured to be your companion in life. He wanted to lift your veil off your face and see your doll-like eyes stare into his.

"Do you think..." Seokmin began to trail off. "Do you think they will love me forever? I know I will love them forever, but what if they become too good for me?"

"Well, Heraclitus had famously stated 'you cannot step into the same river twice' with his Doctrine of Flux—"

"Please don't go all scholar on me! I'm going to my wedding, not to school,"

"All I'm saying is, love never remains constant. It's a dynamic entity, but then again, you and [Name] are pretty dynamic too. You match each other perfectly, it's like Aphrodite blessed you. Although, my little brother has always been loved by the Gods." Wonwoo smoothly explained.

Like Aphrodite blessed me.

Seokmin gave himself a proud smile in the mirror before putting on the rest of his wedding garments.

Brushing the blackened ash of incense over your lashes, you grinned satisfied with your reflection in your hand mirror. You didn't previously imagine marriage or starting a family because you had heard so many stories from fellow nymphs of their nightmare affairs. But once again, Seokmin was different. He had the sincerest of emotions for you, and you for him.

You took a good look outside of your window, inhaling the fresh air. The air was particularly sweet today, maybe it was from the plethora of figs and wine available. Or, maybe it was because your heart swelled so much with excitement from the wedding all your senses were being overshadowed. The cottage you and Seokmin resided in was looking exceptional today, with the bouquets of wildflowers and candles. The cottage was a gift bestowed to you and Seokmin by the King of Aeolia, who adored Seokmin's music. The orchards were bountiful, the fruit plump and sweet. The garden was your favourite place, as you were previously a follower of the nomadic forest deity, Pan. You remember vividly how you first met Seokmin.

You were stringing flowers up from the Earth when you heard a scream ripple through your valley. You chuckled softly to yourself. Humans. Still, there were many stories of them searching for greatness, ignorant to the fact that they were designated to ultimately become the dirt they walk on. Your previous lover, a minor God of trickery, would boast about his status and the inferiority of humankind. You’d laugh at his stories of luring humans to their death, but you were aware that nymphs were just as weak— if not weaker, than humans. Really, nymphs and humans were two different sides of the same coin— two entities that were used by the Gods as playthings to pass their time as immortals. However, a key difference was that humans spent their time locked away in their big marble palaces and scriptures, and nymphs would be imprisoned by the freedom of the wilderness.

What would a human be doing out here in auloniad territory?

You tracked down the origin of the sound, finding yourself deep in the forest. "STAY BACK!" the man shrieked. You peeked behind a willow tree, its long branches acting as a disguise, and you cracked a wicked smile. The man, clutching his lyre, was cornered to the back of a tree by a boar. The beast snarled, showing off its sharpened and bloodied teeth. Boars, to auloniads, were like what puppies were to humans. If this were any other human, you would have allowed the beast to have its way. But something about this man, with his big doe eyes and perfectly sculpted face made him seem... different. He held an aura— no, a glow, that made you interfere.

"Alright, Sherman, please don't eat the nice guest." you stepped out from your hiding spot, cooing at the beast. The boar stopped its hunt once it heard your voice. It trotted over to you, for you to cup its face. "Aren't you just adorable!" you gushed, ruffling with its fur.

Seokmin's eyes fell onto you, fear evaporating from his body. You were... magnificent. He had seen beautiful people before, when he was entertaining royalty. Princes and princesses would throw themselves on him, begging to take him to bed. But you were beautiful like the waterfalls he'd see on his journeys, birds chirping signalling a new day, the rocky steppes of mountainous terrains in Crete.

"His name is Sherman?" Seokmin began to laugh.

"Her." you giggled, as the beast revelled in your affection. Seokmin began to laugh to himself, wondering how the same vicious boar, who had chased him from across the forest, could resemble the same characteristics as a harmless puppy under the right touch.  You released Sherman, letting her go to run off into the wild. 

"Thank you for saving me," Seokmin spoke up, drinking in the nymph's beauty. You laughed— goodness, how could somebody be so charming? "Next time when you come into this neck of the woods, I'd advise you to not play any instruments. Boars are extremely sensitive to noise. Rather, go to the Pineios River to practice." you advised. "What were you playing, anyways?" being a nymph, curiosity bested you. It’s not always you get a human in your hand.

"Oh, just this old thing!" Seokmin brought a rather strange thing from his dilapidated satchel, a gold tubular instrument.

“And… what is it?”

“A salpinx! Its pretty loud though, soldiers use this in battles. Maybe this thing is why Sherman wanted to kill me…” Seokmin thought out loud. You giggled at the human's cuteness. He was endearing, like a fawn.

“Well, I should get going now, back to doing absolutely nothing.” you chuckled. As you began trekking up the forest, you heard Seokmin call out to you.

“Wait!— Why don’t I play something for tomorrow, just the two of us? At the Pineios River!” Seokmin offered.

He was composed when it came to playing in front of giant cyclops to convince them to let him live, at weddings of huge political significance, impressing the Goddess of Arts and Crafts, and setting wild lions to sleep with gentle lullabies. But to have you in his audience was the most nerve-wracking thing to him. To feel your eyes bore deep into him was… tantalizing. To be the object of your attention, as you spend your days together lazing in each other's company. He had never felt stage fright before. But that only motivated him to perform the best he could.

Grinning, you turned your head around. “I’d love to.”

He knew at that moment he wanted to marry you, and that feeling only grew stronger every time he played for you.

The festivities were in full swing. Guests took it upon themselves to feast on the multiple honey-flavoured sweets prepared and the platter of goat's cheese with cucumbers and figs. There was an overwhelming amount of wine available to wash it down. "Eat it all up and vomit it all out" was the Ancient world's favourite way to pass the time. Amongst all their excitement, Seokmin was oddly quiet.

"You aren't eating anything," Wonwoo observed, eyeing his brother's untouched plate.

"Something feels wrong," Seokmin responded, voice hushed so only his brother could hear.

"How?" Wonwoo asked before going for a second lamb rib.

“It feels like… my life is going to change tonight.” Seokmin solemnly spoke. “I mean— aside from the fact I’m literally getting MARRIED. But, I don’t know, something is telling me I should check in on [Name].”

"Maybe you’re just experiencing pre-wedding anxiety. It's common.” Wonwoo explained. Wonwoo was Seokmin’s polar opposite, in that he viewed convoluted situations as simple problems with logical answers. Wonwoo was reasonable, a characteristic all scholars possessed. Growing up, in difficult situations, it was Wonwoo’s brain that triumphed over Seokmin’s heart. “I'm sure [Name] is alright, they have all their friends. Just trust me on this and eat your food." Seokmin gave a weak nod before picking up a fig to eat.

Seokmin wishes he had listened to his heart before it was too late.

By evening, Seokmin was expected to have wed you already. By now, you would be dancing to his lyre with a careless smile with the stars smiling down on your union. But as Seokmin searched tirelessly for you, he could hear the stars laughing wickedly.

“My love?!!” Seokmin called out for his love. "Please, answer me!" Seokmin's eyes frantically scanned over the almost endless rolling hills. He felt like he was staring into the ocean. At first glance, the ocean was inviting and almost harmless, but the danger was in its infinite grasp over the world. But Seokmin would claw through the waves if it meant he could be with you.

"No sign of them here!" one of his wedding guests shouted.

"Over here!" one of your nymph friends called out, waving at him. Seokmin ran over to see what was happening, and his heart sank. You lay peacefully on the tall grass, as though you were just in a deep sleep. The earth was waiting for you to finally return to its arms. It had yearned for your return ever since you left the valley to travel alongside Seokmin. Now that you have returned to it, Seokmin knew better than anybody it wouldn't let you go. 

"We were all just dancing, like we normally did and—" another nymph choked on her tears, rolling down her cheeks at the same tempo of the beads of blood rolling down your ankle and staining the lush bed of grass underneath. "We were startled by an entourage of hunters, threatening us with all sorts of crude things, because that's all nymphs are good for. But [Name] wouldn't take any of it, and soon enough, it delved into an argument— and the huntsman just shoved them so hard that they stumbled onto a stupid venomous snake."

Rage.

There had never been a moment where Seokmin felt so much rage.

What was even more bitter was that your blood was trickling into the Pineios River, the same place he had given his first performance to you. The sounds of the water gently crashing against the shore did nothing to soothe him. His world, you, had just stopped. But the rest of the world still flooded past your body, reminding him that he was just another pebble in the riverbed that was life. The river, which was supposed to be a natural monument to your love, was now stained by your death. You had deliberately chosen to get married by the Pineios River and to have your cottage here, because this is where time would stand still for you and him.

"Where are those hunters?" Seokmin questioned, as he scooped you into his arms. It hurt him that you were so perfect. Even in your final moments, you chose to remain generous and protect the people you love most. How he wished you could have been more selfish.

"They ran off into the woods, laughing to themselves..." another responded.

Seokmin's fingers clung to your figure, hoping to feel your blood rush. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to bring you back and finalize his vows with you. He was supposed to carry you into your shared cottage as blushing newlyweds, staring up at the ceiling together because that was your favourite thing to do. But here he was, carrying your cold lifeless body. That same body which he spooned to sleep. Just moments ago, he woke you up with a kiss on the forehead. How did moments seem so distant?

Burying his face in your chest, Seokmin sobbed. Maybe he could hear your heart beat once more? Maybe you could feel his warmth, and then you would regain your spark and miraculously come back to life. Your eyes would flutter open, and you could spend your last moments with him in the sweet bliss of domesticity. Seokmin thought that if he wailed loudly enough, the Gods would hear his pleas and give him his greatest love. His big brother's words, "Beloved by the gods," echoed in his mind, ringing painfully in his memories.

No human could ever be loved by a god. Not the same way he loved you, at least.

He loved you. And that's what was going to be his undoing.

It had been days since the wedding. Seokmin hadn't been eating regularly. Some twisted part in his mind lashed at him for not being there to protect you. He should have been the last thing you saw. He should have held you so as you shut your eyes and left this world he could have been able to say goodbye. He wishes he could have been able to say goodbye. Or maybe, he wouldn't need to say goodbye, because he would keep you away from those hunters and you would have never tripped. It doesn't matter now, because while your breath was faltering and your heart slowed he was feasting without a care in the world.

Seokmin also stopped sleeping. It's grown to hurt him too much. Every time he would close his eyes to rest, he hoped that when he woke up, it was all a part of a cruel trick his mind was playing on him. But it never was. It then grew to become him trying to sleep forever, so that time would pass by seamlessly and he would shrivel and find himself in the Underworld with you. But it would never work. It was because he was selfish. He would wake up in the middle of the night, his chest heaving and gasping for air. As much as he was terrified of losing you, perhaps most importantly, he nursed a fear of dying. He was a coward who turned his back on death, the only time humans are treated equally. But he was not like the rest, he was a jewel amongst the rock garden of humanity, and you were supposed to adore him. He was vain, but any artist with self-respect was. Why should he be treated the same as other humans, when he was a hero of far-off kingdoms and Apollo's champion?

Rather than disappointing himself, he took to roaming the gardens you tended to so ardently. "I'm still a nymph, after all! I’m good with plants" your voice rang clearly in his head like a bell.

Staring mindlessly at the flowerbed, meddling with the strings of his lyre, singing to himself. All he could think about was how spring was treading forth on its heels, bringing flowers in their bloom. But when you died, you left him none of the bright colours that dotted your shared world. Maybe, he could catch the Goddess of Spring, Persephone, and beg her to convince her husband to bring you back to him. The Goddess of Spring, or as he likes to appear to humans, Jun.

Seokmin knelt before the once flourishing bed of flowers, singing once more. Louder. With more strength. Maybe Apollo won't fail him, and will take his golden chariot mounted by swans to pluck you back from Hades and return you back home. You would emerge from the shining beams of sunlight, and you will both laugh about this cruel dream. If Apollo could gift him his lyre, surely he could gift him his love?

Seokmin's eyes fluttered, feeling those restless nights catching up on him. His exhaustion made him mistake the dirt as a gigantic pillow. Seokmin's shoulders sank, as he lowered his head. Maybe the dirt will consume him and crush him into a fine dust that will leave nothing but his soul, free to travel between worlds and free to reunite with you. But— then he would be gone. He would be nothing more than the dirt people stepped on. He could no longer hear the music of the world he loved so much.

"No!" Seokmin shook himself awake. His eyes slowly enlarged. That once large brown pillow suddenly had flowers sprouting out of its barren surface. Soft pink blooms with thin twig-like stems, native to the craggy stony steppes of Aeolia, called evia. Your favourite flowers. There was only one possible explanation of how this could have happened.

A figure walked towards the bard, long pastel pink silk trailing to the ground and flowers from every part of the world woven into his hair. Jun. The manifestation of the Goddess of Spring.

"A nymph was sobbing in the Underworld about you, mortal." his voice echoed.

"How did you find me?" Seokmin bowed in front of the Goddess, making sure to keep his eyes glued to the ground.

"Please, enough of these formalities! I'm not going to drag you down to the Underworld." Jun chuckled, finding Seokmin amusing. The Goddess of Spring was much kinder than his husband, that's for sure. Although, that didn't mean they didn't share the same sense of gallows humour. It makes the Ancients let out a sigh of relief that it wasn't Hades allowed to crawl the service and take all who frustrated him back underneath the Earth's crust to never be seen again. "As one finds all champions of Apollo, find where the sun shines brightest and where the music sounds sweetest."

"What are you doing here, then?"

Jun merely laughed at that question. "What gall you have, mortal! Asking why spring goes where it wishes?" Jun stopped laughing, catching his breath.

"Normally, I don't care about the dead. That's Minghao's job. It's so glum, don't you think? Listening to whining brats isn't really my forte, thank goodness he's so patient." Minghao was the chosen mortal name of Hades, the malevolent ruler of the Underworld, waiting for the fall of every being from the shadows. “Patient” was certainly one way to describe him.

"But this one was special. Wailing as loud as possible so Apollo could hear them, but alas! His home is high up in the sky, he's too brilliant for us! Minghao told me that this was the soon-to-be spouse of Apollo's champion. Naturally, I was curious about them, since they had managed to capture the attention of one who is in Apollo's favour."

"I'm honoured to have caught your attention, but..." Seokmin paused, wondering what to say. "Will you please bring them back?"

"Bring out your hands, mortal." Jun sighed, reaching down to pick up an evia. Reluctantly, Seokmin laid his palm flat. "Minghao always explains to me that mortality is chained to time. The second a mortal is born, the clock never stops ticking. Second after second" Jun tears off a petal. "day after day." and another. "Year by year." and another. "Your darling was already dying. Until finally—" SNAP! Jun rips the stem in half. "The clock stopped." Jun brushed off the broken flower into Seokmin's palm. "Now if you excuse me, my curiosity has been satiated."

"Forgive me for my intrusion, but you're immortal. I don't think you should be explaining how death works to me." Seokmin spoke up without thinking. What had gotten into him!? Why was he challenging a goddess!? Guilt sunk into him. "I'm so sorry! I— I was speaking without thinking!" Seokmin got on all fours. Jun once again laughed.

"Mortal, do you think I'm enraged? On the contrary, I'm amused!" Jun smiled, kneeling to grab Seokmin's chin and make him look into his eyes, bright like flowers emerging from the cold winter snow. "I'm nothing like those old hags on Olympus! I like your attitude. I was worried that Apollo favoured idiots, but I'm glad he finally chose somebody with a mouth!"

"I— Really??" Seokmin was at a loss for words, getting back up on his feet. "All I ask is, I have a word with Hades. I'm sure he will understand my plight."

"Are you saying you want to challenge him?"

"I mean, you are his bride. You have his affections, surely he will listen to you!" Seokmin pleaded. "Please, I need to see [Name]. Every day has been worthless for me. Food has no taste, music has no rhythm." Seokmin stumbled on his words, his mouth clogged by the emotions plaguing his heart.

"You do understand, mortal, that the dead is not my kingdom. Once we head to the Underworld, I won't be able to protect you." Jun explained. Seokmin sighed, weighing the options.

"I've travelled oceans and fought monsters, talking with the King of the Underworld seems like nothing if I can have [Name] back," Seokmin answered.

Jun wryly smiled, his eyes mischievously glinting with the opportunity to witness a game, as he began his long walk back home. "Well, onwards we go then. It's a long way back." Seokmin firmly nodded, picking up his lyre, as that was all he'd need. "Seriously? That's all?" Jun quirked an eyebrow. Seokmin nodded. Jun scoffed. Maybe all of Apollo's favourites were idiots.

Finally done climbing up the stony steps, Seokmin arrived at the large entrance of Hades's palace. Dark obsidian columns with silver accents and a large door handle of bone, except large bouquets crawling down its walls (courtesy of Jun).

"Let's go over some basics before you meet him, alright?" Jun turned to Seokmin. "Number one, don't touch anything! Otherwise, you're stuck here for good. Instead, let me open this door for you." Jun leaned against the cool frame of the door. "Number two, Hades isn't nearly as cruel as you mortals make him out to be. He's actually quite fair, as death should be."

"Death wasn't fair to my love." he huffed, letting his true feelings show. Jun knew this feeling of resentment toward Minghao wasn't uncommon. So many mortals beg for his forgiveness, to make their deaths as seamless as the flow of time. But even then mortals resent death for taking their loved ones away.

"That's what they all say." Jun rolled his eyes. "Third, play by his rules. Minghao normally finds you mortals championed by the arrogant Gods of Olympus to be so prideful, so it'll be refreshing to see something opposite of that, and you'll be in his graces." Seokmin's ears perked at the last bit. Could he wager immortality, then? Could he have you and him enjoying the future without the fear of it ending?  "Number four, and most importantly. It's easier to get into the Underworld than to leave it."

"Alright so no touching, Hades is nice, listen to him, and it's hard to leave." Seokmin recounted.

"Exactly!" Jun gave a thumbs-up before the gates opened for him.  "Now put your game face on, Champion of Apollo." Seokmin quietly followed after Jun, his eyes glazing over the palace. Each wall held engraving of different stories, all stories which shared an ending in the Underworld. The final destination for all.

"Hao!" Jun called. "I brought you somebody!"

"Leave them at the front desk, the clerk will sort them out!" Minghao replied, his voice booming. Seokmin covered his ears, he forgot how loud the voices of Gods appeared to regular people. Jun opened the last gate, and into the throneroom. Seokmin's jaw dropped. He could only imagine being back at the cottage with you, composing a song of Hades and rescuing you. The large throne perched upon stairs of what looked like sizzling magma. Seokmin gulped looking at the throne, composed of skeletons, all of them belonging to those who had mocked the King of the Underworld. Most importantly, was the very king that sat comfortably on his throne. Seokmin imagined the king to be hot-tempered, like the fires which scorched wrong-doers. But it was very much the opposite. Cold. Cold like a corpse when it stops breathing.

"I bring to you, a Champion of Apollo! This is the one we were talking about earlier, the fiance of the nymph." Jun turned to Seokmin, signalling for him to follow.

"Um, uh— greetings, your... awfulness? I would say highness, but we are at the lowest part of the Earth. Would your lowness work better?" Seokmin mumbled, awkwardly, kneeling in front of Hades.

"Isn't this exciting!" Jun forced a smile, mentally face-palming.

"He isn't dead." Minghao finally spoke, a chill piercing through the room. "Stand, mortal. I want to look at the one who dares challenge me." Minghao stepped down from his throne as Seokmin's legs struggled to stand up without wobbling. Jun sighed, knowing this was where his power over Minghao ended. As Jun walked up to his own throne adorned in flowers, he turned to Seokmin and mouthed "Good luck."

"Mortal, you dare mock me? Using my bride as a bargaining piece, breaching my palace, and all while your heart still beats?" Minghao threatened, analyzing the man in front of him. Minghao was perfect. Perfect in the way all Gods are. But he was impressed with Seokmin, that even compared to a God he was able to stand proud. "It makes sense that you caught Apollo's attention, but I detest the Gods of Olympus. They keep me underground, send me humanity’s worst, and expect my generosity." he scoffed.

"I— I only have one wish for you." Seokmin finally spoke. Minghao raised a brow. "I suspect it has something to do with shipment #50A194. The auloniad." Minghao thought out loud.

"You assign numbers to everybody who comes here?"

"People die every day, I have to keep track somehow." the God casually shrugged. "They were nothing like other nymphs. Normally, nymphs are relieved to come to my arms, as humans and gods alike toy with them. But this one was upset. This one says you have shown them something special, something that makes my kingdom pale in comparison. I wonder what it is." Seokmin's answer of “music” hung in the air.

"All I ask from you is that you return my love to me." Seokmin blurted. A beat of silence. Seokmin felt the air around him suffocate him, his body growing numb. Another beat of silence.

Minghao stepped closer to Seokmin. "Are you afraid of dying, mortal?" Seokmin froze.

"W-what?" he tried playing it off, but Minghao knew the living just as well as the dead, and the racing of his heart gave him away.

"You champions are all the same. You lead fruitful lives, you find great loves and great riches. But you all are terrified of the end." Minghao smoothly explained. "Just because the sun bends in your favour, doesn't mean death will. You are a coward, is what you are. A coward that fears his end! You will not do what is natural and wait for death to find you. No, instead you will mock death. You will find death, and you will demand it give you what you deserve. Your love for [Name] is not true!"

"OK ENOUGH!" Seokmin roared back, tears dripping down his face. "I love [Name]. More than anything. You can call me a coward, I don't care." Seokmin spoke. From the corner of his eyes, he could see a satisfied Jun enjoying his performance. His vision began to obscure with tears falling once more from his eyes. "Yes, I'm scared of dying. I hate the idea of it. I know it is everybody's fate, but the journey has to be completed alone. I cannot bear the idea of being alone. I cannot bear the idea of being without [Name]." Seokmin looked at the god, gaze unfaltering and filled with rage, the same that filled him on the day of your death. 

"Fine. I admit, I empathize with your cause." Minghao reluctantly sighed. "I shall retrieve your love, and dress them in the finest of Underworld garments and jewels so you can have a wedding ceremony even better than the last." "Really?" Seokmin blinked.

"There is an exit out of the Underworld only Jun and I know, you two can hike up it and will be back home in the blink of an eye. However, I have a condition"

"Anything!" Seokmin grinned, already imagining how he would hold you the second you two reunite. You two will exchange stories of brushing with the Underworld and the sights. He’ll tell you about his encounter with Persephone and her husband, and you will tell him about your trip across the River Styx. 

"You by any means cannot turn around. Not even go as far as to check on the nymph that will be right behind you. You will only have one chance. If you fail, you shall be separated from each other in eternity." Minghao sternly spoke. Seokmin's smile dropped as quickly as it quirked up. "You are forbidden from communicating to them, as well as touching them. You will also be unable to hear them."

"But, how will I know they are with me!?" "Not my problem." Minghao sighed. "This is the most you're getting from me. Now, shoo." Rolling his eyes, Minghao made his way back to his throne. "The next time I see you, you better be dead. If not, I'll make sure of it."

Seokmin waved goodbye to the kind Goddess of Spring and bowed to Hades to signal his respects to the Underworld. He took a deep breath in, looking up at the glittering light seeping through the cracks. The only exit out of here, and his ticket to freedom. He could imagine the sweetness of your lips kissing him. Your voice sighs in relief that he came to rescue you from oblivion. Standing in his way was a long, steep and rocky path, its width shrinking the closer it was to the exit.

"My love, how I missed you!" you grinned. "You can't believe how abysmal it is here! God, it felt so lonely, I just– I couldn't stop crying."

As he gently stepped forward, he could feel the loose soil underneath him shift and slip. Normally, he would have no concern. You're an auloniad, for crying out loud. Rocky terrain dotted with grass is your home. But the snake bite that pierced your ankle was bound to compromise your movement. He figured he'd just move slowly, for your sake.

"Ah, I fear my leg still hurts from the bite. Could you go a little slowly?"

As Seokmin carefully climbed the rugged steps, a thought popped into his head. Hades did not specify that he was forbidden from singing to himself. It just happened to be a coincidence that you overheard him. Humming to himself (and maybe to you, as well) he strummed the strings of his lyre.

"My favourite song!" you gushed. "Do you remember the first time you performed for me, at the Pineios River? Goodness, you just get better every single day!"

Normally, his song would penetrate through the deepest of depths, and his voice would triumph above all. But it all felt hollow like the darkness of those depths was consuming him whole and slowly pushing him back into the Underworld. He wished, so desperately, to know you were listening. Seokmin couldn't hear your steps or your breathing. It was haunting, how you weren't here on this long climb, yet he could vividly remember you. Grief is strange. How you must restrain yourself from looking back on memories of loved ones corrupted by their death.

"Please, turn around so I can get a good look at you. Don't you think I deserve that, at least?"

Maybe he was doomed. How could he know that Hades wasn't mocking him? The light which had guided Persephone to him and the passion which motivated him was being waned.

"Seokmin, why are you ignoring me?" your voice grew softer. "Is it something I said? Have I upset you? Please, just answer me already. You're making me nervous." You reached out for his hand, but he moved it away.

Feeling the chill of a cold wind brush past his palm, Seokmin moved it closer to his chest, hoping the Underworld hadn’t drained him of his life. When will he get to hold your hand again?

Knees buckling, he let out a sigh of relief that he was finally halfway up, already smiling knowing Apollo was waiting for him with the way the light grew even brighter.

"Darling, please, just talk to me. Say something." you huffed. "Why can't you just turn around!?" You hobbled on your ankle, trying to keep up with your lover, watching him disappear as he moved closer to the light. "I don't understand, what is wrong with you!? Please, just turn around already!" Your eyes began welling with tears, raising your voice as much as possible.

As Seokmin treaded higher up, he noticed the crack enlarge just enough so that he could pop his head through. He let out a long sigh of relief, as cold sweat dripped down his forehead, his knees stinging from exhaustion. What would be the first thing he would do with you on the Overworld? Roll in the grass? Breathe in the fresh air? Hoist you up and listen to your heart beating in your chest? Seokmin tries to think, but the Underworld is unforgiving. The air felt thick and heavy, gravity dragging him down as he tried to tear himself away from its clutches, taunting him that your death was inevitable and that he would soon be ensnared in the Underworld’s net. It casts doubt upon him. Does his music have the strength to pierce through the darkest of moments as he prides himself on? Was his passion enough? Was Hades and Persephone lying to him? The Gods are not exactly above toying with mortals, as that is their favourite pastime. Doubt settled in his mind. 

Seokmin shook his head. He must stay firm. He mustn’t listen to the doubt in his mind and push through. He feared death. He feared the cold wind brushing behind his back, echoing how his story would end. Cold. Dark. Alone. He needed you back with him. He needed your body’s warmth, your light. He needed to die in your arms.

The grating sound of a rock falling off the ledge and into the abyss below obstructed Seokmin’s train of thought, realizing the sound could mean only one thing. “I got you!” he snapped his head back. Seokmin’s jaw dropped, realizing the horrible mistake he had made. “You finally turned around.” you weakly huffed, tears sparkling in the dark. Minghao had kept his word. You were otherworldly. Contrasting against the darkness, you were a bright star, shrouded in a bright white glow. Your beauty only made him even more upset, as his eyes grew wide with the realization he had squandered his last chance. This was easily a pardonable offence, if the spirits knew how to pardon. In their long-spent immortality, never could they empathize with Seokmin’s plight. 

“I… thought.” Seokmin slowly blinked, tears dripping down his face. Breathing heavily, he tried to calm himself down. He thought you had fallen, and your body would crash against the ground like a fallen star. It wasn’t that his love for you was small, but that it was too much. It was overflowing and reckless, just like the nature of youth. He couldn’t resist turning around to help you, especially with the knowledge of your snakebite. The same stupid thing that sent you here. You frowned, heart hurting at the sight of your lover in disarray. Stepping forward, you cupped his face, your touch still lingering with the frost of the Underworld. “Darling, what’s wrong?” You tried to make eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry.” he choked on his sobs. “I wasn’t supposed to turn around… but I just got so nervous, I thought you fell,” Seokmin confessed. “I’m an idiot. I failed you. I’m so… so… stupid. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” Seokmin screwed his eyes shut, unable to muster the strength to look at what would happen to you now that he failed. Minghao hadn’t specified what would happen if he had failed. Would he send furies to tear you apart? Would he force him to drink poison?  

“No! You’re not an idiot. Don’t be so cruel.” swiping your thumb against his cheek and wiping away his tears. “You’re so brave, coming all the way to rescue me… all because you love me. You failed… because you love me. I’m happy knowing that.” You smiled, knowing the bitter end that was to come to you. They needed to kill you twice for him to let you go. But you had to be strong, for his sake. He was strong enough to challenge the Underworld, the unforgiving end. He was strong enough to face death, his greatest fear, challenging its irreversibility. He was strong enough to defy the laws of nature. The least you could do was comfort him. “I’m so… proud of you.” your touch felt feather light against the heavy mortal flesh weighing him down. “Please… just look at me.”

“But, you’ll be gone!” Seokmin wailed. “I… I’m not strong enough for this! I can’t go on!” 

“You are strong enough. So open your eyes.” your words gently coaxed him. Seokmin inhaled one last time, bracing himself for the horror he was about to witness. As his eyes fluttered open, you were gone as quickly as you had appeared before him. There was no dramatic murder, just a hazy glow left in where you were standing before him. That was how mortality worked, in the eyes of Gods. Mortals come and go on this Earth, in the span of a blink. Mortality, which feels like entering a room and just finding the exit. Mortality, which weighed Seokmin down, and held you in its clutches. It was a signal to him that it was time to wake up from the dream that was you. It was time for him to grow up and to accept mourning the loss of his muse. Falling to his knees, Seokmin sobbed, the noise drowned by the hollow abyss of the Underworld. His voice, which set him apart as a champion of Apollo, was indistinct from the rest of the wailing of the Underworld. 

Maybe you will have a greater fate than him. You will drink from the River Lethe, whose waters flowed through the God of Sleep's cave, causing one to forget the mortal world. Sure, it meant you would forget the blisses and joys you shared above the surface, but it also meant you would forget the pain and sadness. You would wake up, yawning as you ponder the strange figure in your dream named "Seokmin". You would be reborn and would carve a path through the foreign wilderness of the underworld. You would be trapped in a moment, a distant memory of a time of idealistic, passionate, youthful bliss. You would be free. Like you were destined to be. Free from mortal anguish. Free from him. Your skin could never wrinkle, your hair couldn't gray, and your health wouldn't deplete.

Who knows what would have happened if you had returned to him in the mortal realm. Would the love between you dry up? Would your love only be immortalized in a contract, and not in real life? Maybe life will ravage your happy marriage and shred the love that once existed. You would part ways and leave him behind, as you could never truly be his. When would be the last time in your unhappy married life you tell him "I love you"? Would he bar the door when you got sick of him and tried to leave? Would he welcome your newfound hatred of him and show you the way out?

The memory of you would be his prized possession, something to draw inspiration for his music, to know he had the pleasure of experiencing such a love, and to wonder the many possibilities if he were successful in bringing you back. He was fine if you could just stay. It didn't matter if you only stayed in his memory and never talked to him again. But please, stay.

thank you so much for reading — @noircheols do not copy or translate ♧ mlist

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Michael Sheen directing The Way in his Good Omens sweatshirt ❤ 😊, 2023

[lacebird]

"Time to die..."

[gayofthefae]

Will haunting the narrative as both the innocent who was wrongfully destroyed AND the one that got away.

Season 2 Will impacting everything Mike does from that point forward just as much as Will's death impacts everyone.

El thinks of him when she confronts Brenner about the mind flayer, we know things like that. But Mike also thinks of him when he tells El he loves her.

They're all thinking of him. The last time they saw him.

The way he was never the same.

But Mike is thinking about the last time he saw him.

Losing him.

The way they were never the same.

(The way he can't get him back)

Yes, Will's disappearance changed everyone's trajectory forever. But he also changed Mike. He also made Mike's personal and romantic life impossible to return to after him.

He haunts more than just the people who mourn his death.

(The sole purpose of Mike's season 2 separation from El in the first place is so that he can never truly go back after Will)

[crowlixcx]

The Way, Episode 1 - 'The War'

[scarlettroubles]

Quanxi's return was so fucking powerful the shockwave killed Gojo in one hit.

[his-porous-membrane]

which could mean nothing

[downfalldestiny]

Channel the pain 🥊 !.

[invisibleicewands]

Bringing revolution to Port Talbot - by Michael Sheen

On a recent February morning, I woke up to find I was wrong. Not a particularly uncommon experience in itself, but unusual to discover that on this occasion I was being publicly accused of it by the Secretary of State for Business and Trade. “Michael Sheen has said that ‘the people of Port Talbot have been let down’,” Kemi Badenoch wrote in the Daily Mail. “But he is wrong.”

It was a big day. I spent all of last year directing a three-part drama series for the BBC called The Way, which was to air that night. It begins in my hometown of Port Talbot, where a strike at the local steelworks becomes the spark that ignites a violent descent into national chaos. Clearly, Ms Badenoch had been given a sneak peek of the series before forming quite a strong opinion on it. But no: reading her article, Ms Badenoch admits that she hadn’t watched it at all. Why let a total lack of information prevent a full-throated denouncement, eh? Presumably, she also assumes that we managed to write, film and edit the entire series after Tata Steel announced the imminent loss of some 2,500 jobs at the steelworks mere weeks ago.

While the winds of change have only been blowing in one direction for many years, the events in our story were dreamed up some years ago and act as a fictional catalyst for all that follows. Surely even Tory ministers understand there is no VIP fast lane for making a TV series. This isn’t a PPE contract, after all…

Nothing to see here

After that episode aired, it occurred to me that such shenanigans in the right-wing press could have been about a couple of things. Since the ITV drama about the Post Office scandal, Mr Bates vs The Post Office, caused public outrage, I imagine the government has a new fear of the impact a TV show can have. A pre-emptive strike against a series it perceives to be criticising its actions around the steel industry must have seemed a useful tactic. And, having seen Breathtaking – based on Rachel Clarke’s memoir of how the Covid crisis unfolded in the NHS, which aired on ITV the same night as The Way – I wonder if her piece was an attempt to distract attention away from more dangerous territory.

It gave Ms Badenoch a chance to trot out her line about how the people of Port Talbot should be grateful for all that the government is doing to save the steel industry, not moaning about the impact job losses will have on their community. But the people of Port Talbot have been let down, no matter what Ms Badenoch wants us to think. Not by any single entity, but by years of neglect. That she immediately assumed my comments referred to her and her government tells its own story. In the words of a much older drama than mine: the lady doth protest too much, methinks.

Then and Nye

“This crisis is a privateering racket with your friends lining their pockets!” No, not an accusation against Boris Johnson, but something I currently say to Winston Churchill every night. We opened a new play called Nye at the National Theatre this week. I play Aneurin (“Nye”) Bevan, who attacks the prime minister for turning a wartime crisis into a money-making scheme for him and his cronies. It’s one of many moments in the play that seem to speak to past and present at the same time.

The entanglement of “now” and “then” is heightened by the fact that I am wearing pyjamas. Nye is lying unconscious in his hospital bed at the end of his life, and we follow him through a dream of his past. He wanders from childhood memories of overcoming his stutter in Tredegar library to his meteoric rise through local politics, to becoming the youngest member of Clement Attlee’s pioneering postwar cabinet. And, of course, as minister for health, his tumultuous birthing of the NHS on 5 July 1948. It’s an extraordinary, surprising and moving experience telling this story on stage each night. That shared space between actors and audience, where all is felt but unseen, crackles with electricity.

Once more, with feeling

It seems that exploring the motives of politicians, the uses and abuses of political power, and the quest for justice that saw the creation of the NHS taps into deep wells of emotion. Like the pockets of gas that miners feared within the coal seam, their release brings risk and reward. At a recent show, we had three instances of people needing to be helped out of the theatre, the final one forcing us to pause the show moments from its end. Thankfully, it was nothing more serious than someone fainting. But emotions are running high.

I’m more than happy to invite Ms Badenoch to a performance. But I realise, of course, there’s no guarantee she would make it to the end.

[ingravinoveritas]

Michael Sheen really said let me show you the tenderness with which I worship David Tennant's entire body and soul by using middle-aged actors as avatars of us in my directorial debut and oh by the way David's wife Georgia is also in the scene because she likes to watch. Cut, print, moving on...

[conduit-of-grace]

“‘The Mass is long,’ you say, and I reply: ‘Because your love is short.’”

- St. Josemaria Escriva, “Holy Mass” from The Way, #529

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

The Radio Times magazine from the 29 July-04 August 2023 :)

THE SECOND COMING

How did Terry Pratchett and Neil gaiman overcome the small matter of Pratchett's death to make another series of their acclaimed divine comedy?

For all the dead authors in the world,” legendary comedy producer John Lloyd once said, “Terry Pratchett is the most alive.” And he’s right. Sir Terry is having an extremely busy 2023… for someone who died in 2015.

This week sees the release of Good Omens 2, the second series of Amazon’s fantasy comedy drama based on the cult novel Pratchett co-wrote with Neil Gaiman in the late 1980s. This will be followed in the autumn by a new spin-off book from Pratchett’s Discworld series, Tiffany Aching’s Guide to Being a Witch, co-written by Pratchett’s daughter Rhianna and children’s author Gabrielle Kent. The same month, we’ll also get A Stroke of the Pen, a collection of “lost” short stories written by Sir Terry for local newspapers in the 70s and 80s and recently rediscovered. Clearly, while there are no more books coming from Pratchett – a hard drive containing all drafts and unpublished work was crushed by a vintage steamroller shortly after the author’s death, as per his specific wishes – people still want to visit his vivid and addictive worlds in new ways.

Good Omens 2 will be the first test of how this can work. The original book started life as a 5,000-word short story by Gaiman, titled William the Antichrist and envisioned as a bit of a mashup of Richmal Crompton’s Just William books and the 70s horror classic The Omen. What would happen, Gaiman had mused, if the spawn of Satan had been raised, not by a powerful American diplomat, but by an extremely normal couple in an idyllic English village, far from the influence of hellish forces? He’d sent the first draft to bestselling fantasy author Pratchett, a friend of many years, and then forgotten about it as he busied himself with continuing to write his massively popular comic books, including Violent Cases, Black Orchid and The Sandman, which became a Netflix series last year.

Pratchett loved the idea, offering to either buy the concept from Gaiman or co-write it. It was, as Gaiman later said, “like Michelangelo phoning and asking if you want to paint a ceiling” The pair worked on the book together from that point on, rewriting each other as they went and communicating via long phone calls and mailed floppy discs. “The actual mechanics worked like this: I would do a bit, then Neil would take it away and do a bit more and give it back to me,” Pratchett told Locus magazine in 1991. “We’d mess about with each other’s bits and pieces.”

Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch – to give it its full title –was published in 1990 to huge acclaim. It was one of, astonishingly, five Terry Pratchett novels to be published that year (he averaged two a year, including 41 Discworld novels and many other standalone works and collaborations).

It was also, clearly, extremely filmable, and studios came knocking — though getting it made took a while. rnvo decades on from its writing, four years after Pratchett's death from Alzheimer's disease aged 66, and after several doomed attempts to get a movie version off the ground, Good Omens finally made it to TV screens in 2019, scripted and show-run by Gaiman himself. "Terry was egging me on to make it into television. He knew he was dying, and he knew that I wouldn't start it without him," Gaiman revealed in a 2019 Radio Times interview. Amazon and the BBC co-produced with Pratchett's company Narrativia and Gaiman's Blank Corporation production studios, with Michael Sheen and David Tennant cast in the central roles of Aziraphale the angel and Crowley the demon. The show was a hit, not just with fans of its two creators, but with a whole new young audience, many of whom had no interest in Discworld or Sandman. Social media networks like Tumblr and TikTok were soon awash with cosplay, artwork and fan fiction. The original novel became, for the first time, a New York Times bestseller.

A follow up was, on one level, a no-brainer. The world Pratchett and Gaiman had created was vivid, funny and accessible, and Tennant and Sheen had found an intriguing romantic spark in their chemistry not present in the novel.

There was, however, a huge problem. There wasn't a second Good Omens book to base it on. But there was the ghost of an idea.

In 1989, after the book had been sold but before it had come out, the two authors had laid on fivin beds in a hotel room at a convention in Seattle and, jet-lagged and unable to sleep, plotted out, in some detail, what would happen in a sequel, provisionally titled 668, The II Neighbour of the Beast.

"It was a good one, too" Gaiman wrote in a 2021 blog. "We fully intended to write it, whenever we next had three or four months free. Only I went to live in America and Terry stayed in the UK, and after Good Omens was published, Sandman became SANDMAN and Discworld became DISCWORLD(TM) and there wasn't a good time."

Back in 1991, Pratchett elaborated, "We even know some of the main characters in it. But there's a huge difference between sitting there chatting away, saying, 'Hey, we could do this, we could do that,' and actually physically getting down and doing it all again." In 2019, Gaiman pillaged some of those ideas for Good Omens series one (for example, its final episode wasn't in the book at all), and had left enough threads dangling to give him an opening for a sequel. This is the well he's returned to for Good Omens 2, co-writing with comic John Finnemore - drafted in, presumably, to plug the gap left Pratchett's unparalleled comedic mind. No small task.

Projects like Good Omens 2 are an important proving ground for Pratchett's legacy: can the universes he conjured endure without their creator? And can they stay true to his spirit? Sir Terry was famously protective of his creations, and there have been remarkably few adaptations of his work considering how prolific he was. "What would be in it for me?" he asked in 2003. "Money? I've got money."

He wanted his work treated reverently and not butchered for the screen. It's why Good Omens and projects like Tiffany Aching's Guide to Being a Witch are made with trusted members of the inner circle like Neil Gaiman and Rhianna Pratchett at the helm. It's also why the author's estate, run by Pratchett's former assistant and business manager Rob Wilkins, keeps a tight rein on any licensed Pratchett material — it's a multi-million dollar media empire still run like a cottage industry.

And that's heartening. Anyone who saw BBC America's panned 2021 Pratchett adaptation The Watch will know how badly these things can go when a studio is allowed to run amok with the material without oversight. These stories deserve to be told, and these worlds deserve to be explored — properly. And there are, apparently, many plans afoot for more Pratchett on the screen. You can only hope that, somewhere, he'll be proud of the results.

After all, as he wrote himself, "No one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away, until the clock wound up winds down, until the wine she made has finished its ferment, until the crop they planted is harvested. The span of someone's life is only the core of their actual existence."

While those ripples continue to spread, Sir Terry Pratchett remains very much alive. MARC BURROWS

DIVINE DUO

An angel and a demon walk into a pub... Michael Sheen and David Tennant on family, friendship and Morecambe & Wise

Outside it's cold winter's day and we're in a Scottish studio, somewhere between Edinburgh and Glasgow. But inside it's lunchtime in The Dirty Donkey pub in the heart of London, with both Michael Sheen and David Tennant surveying the scene appreciatively. "This is a great pub," says Sheen eagerly, while Tennant calls it "the best Soho there can be. A slightly heightened, immaculate, perfect, dreamy Soho."

Here, a painting of the absent landlord — the late Terry Pratchett, co-creator, with Neil Gaiman, of the series' source novel — looms over punters. Around the corner is AZ Fell and Co Antiquarian and Unusual Books. It's the bookshop owned by Sheen's character, the angel Aziraphale, and the place to where Tennant's demon Crowley is inevitably drawn.

It's day 74 of an 80-day shoot for a series that no one, least of all the leading actors, ever thought would happen, due to the fact that Pratchett and Gaiman hadn't ever published any sequel to their 1990 fantasy satire. Tennant explains, "What we didn't know was that Neil and Terry had had plots and plans..."

Still, lots of good things are in Good Omens 2, which expands on the millennia-spanning multiverse of the first series. These include a surprisingly naked side of John Hamm, and roles for both Tennant's father-in-law (Peter Davison) and 21-year-old son Ty. At its heart, though, remains the brilliant banter between the two leading men — as Sheen puts it, "very Eric and Ernie !" — whose chemistry on the first series led to one of the more surprising saviours of lockdown telly.

Good Omens is back — but you've worked together a lot in the meantime. Was there a connective tissue between series one of Good Omens and Staged, your lockdown sitcom?

David: Only in as much as the first series went out, then a few months later, we were all locked in our houses. And because of the work we'd done on Good Omens, it occurred that we might do something else. I mean, Neil Gaiman takes full responsibility for Staged. Which, to some extent, he's probably right to do!

Michael: We've got to know each other through doing this. Our lives have gotten more entwined in all kinds of ways — we have children who've now become friends, and our families know each other.

There have been hints of a romantic storyline between the two characters. How much of an undercurrent is that in this series.

David: Nothing's explicit.

Michael: I felt from the very beginning that part of what would be interesting to explore is that Aziraphale is a character, a being, who just loves. How does that manifest itself in a very specific relationship with another being? Inevitably, as there is with everything in this story, there's a grey area. The fact that people see potentially a "romantic relationship", I thought that was interesting and something to explore.

There was a petition to have the first series banned because of its irreverent take on Christian tropes. Series two digs even more deeply into the Bible with the story of Job. How much of a badge of honour is it that the show riles the people who like to ban things?

David: It's not an irreligious show at all. It's actually very respectful of the structure of that sort of religious belief. The idea that it promotes Satanism [is nonsense]. None of the characters from hell are to be aspired to at all! They're a dreadful bunch of non-entities. People are very keen to be offended, aren't they? They're often looking for something to glom on to without possibly really examining what they think they're complaining about.

Michael, you're known as an activist, and you're in the middle of Making BBC drama The Way, which "taps into the social and political chaos of today's world". Is it important for you to use your plaform to discuss causes you believe in?

Michael: The Way is not a political tract, it's just set in the area that I come from. But it has to matter to you, doesn't it? More and more as I get older, [I find] it can be a real slog doing this stuff. You've got to enjoy it. And if it doesn't matter to you, then it's just going to be depressing.

David, Michael has declared himself a "not-for-profit" actor. Has he tried to persuade you to give up all your money too?

David: What an extraordinary question! One is always aware that one has a certain responsibility if one is fortunate and gets to do a job that often doesn't feel like a job. You want to do your bit whenever you can. But at the same time, I'm an actor. I'm not about to give that up to go into politics or anything. But I'll do what I can from where I live.

Well, your son and your father-in-law are also starring in this series. How about that, jobs for the boys!

David: I know! It was a delight to get to be on set with them. And certainly an unexpected one for me. Neil, on two occasions, got to bowl up to me and say, "Guess who we've cast?!"

How do you feel about your US peers going on strike?

David: It's happening because there are issues that need to be addressed. Nobody's doing this lightly. These are important issues, and they've got to be sorted out for the future of our industry. There's this idea that writers and actors are all living high on the hog. For huge swathes of our industry, that's just not the case. These people have got to be protected.

Michael: We have to be really careful that things don't slide back to the way they were pre the 1950s, when the stories that we told were all coming from one point of view and the stories of certain people, or communities within our society, weren't represented. There's a sense that now that's changed for ever and it'll never go back. But you worry when people can't afford to have the opportunities that other people have. We don't want the story that we tell about ourselves to be myopic. You want it to be as inclusive as possible

Staged series 3 recently broadcast. It felt like the show's last hurrah — or is there more mileage? Sheen and Tennant go on holiday?

David: That's the Christmas special! One Foot in the Algarve! On the Buses Go to Spain!

Michael: I don't think we were thinking beyond three, were we?

So is it time for a conscious uncoupling for you two — Eric and Ernie say goodbye?

David: Oh, never say never, will we?

Michael: And it's more Hinge and Bracket.

David: Maybe that's what we do next — The Hinge and Bracket Story. CRAIG McLEAN

[thealogie]

this review panning the way for being mean to English people is so funny. Michael Sheen don’t worry king I have also been roasted on the internet for being mean to the English

[saglaophonos]

listen michael sheen. i just want to have a conversation about this

[thegoodmorningman]

YOU CAN BE SO IMPRESSIVE!!!