we're not kids anymore.
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
cherry valley forever
dirt enthusiast
AnasAbdin

Origami Around

#extradirty
🪼
noise dept.
KIROKAZE
tumblr dot com
Cosmic Funnies

oozey mess
DEAR READER

if i look back, i am lost
Keni

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
trying on a metaphor
No title available
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

seen from Palestinian Territories

seen from Belgium
seen from Uzbekistan
seen from South Africa

seen from Argentina

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Italy
@fuzzywunkle
So, You've Just Finished Good Omens Season 2...
You might be asking yourself:
Why?
Is this what dying feels like?
Will the crying ever stop?
How do I go on?
WTF was that?
Will there be a season 3?
These are all normal reactions.
Season 3 has been reduced from 6 episodes to a 90 minute feature length finale due to the allegations against Neil Gaiman. It is currently in production, and he is no longer involved.
Here are some common steps to take to help cope with what you have just endured:
Find the right fanfic for you in @aziraphales-library or write some yourself!
Consume and create fanart (You can start at the @good-omens-gallery. don't forget to reblog, like, and comment!)
Make a sad playlist about it.
Read meta analyses (get started at the @ineffable-detective-agency )
Read and contribute poetry in the Good Omens Poetry Community - Join link here -
Interact with all the nice people in the fandom and block anyone who acts like a twat.
Yep, all of this!
Jim Henson and some of the Dark Crystal Characters
Brave warriors, we have a calling!!
Spread the word!! Let @amazonprime @primevideo @primevideouk @goodomensonprime know that the Good Omens have a loyal and amazing fandom that will fight for our beloved demon and angel!!
Yes! Keep spreading the word!
Largest Henson character of all time
Humongous from Labyrinth
Sometimes Aziraphale feels old. Or, he feels weary and achy and tired. He is old, that’s for certain, but angels don’t really get old. He’d been wearing this face since the dawn of time, and sometimes his cheeks were plumper or thinner, and sometimes there were bags under his eyes, but it hadn’t aged a day. Sometimes he remembers the inquisitions, the revolutions, the crusades, the war and the horror of it all, and he laments how much his years have let him see.
And then Crowley will do something like start humming. He’s wandering around the bookshop, idly rearranging things. Aziraphale doesn’t have his books arranged by the alphabet or Dewey Decimal–no silly human classification. He’s not an animal, he has a system, it’s just that only he knows what it is. And Crowley, maybe. He seems to have figured it out, or otherwise is using his demonic instincts, because he’s putting the books he plucks from the shelves in exactly the worst place he could put them. Aziraphale would be mad, but it gives him something to look busy doing when customers come in asking questions.
He can’t place the tune. It’s familiar, so familiar, but he can’t place it. He doesn’t realize at first that he’s been following Crowley around the shop, brows furrowed, following the sound like a bee tracking pollen.
Crowley finally notices him, but doesn’t stop, making contact through his glasses as he reshelves a book. The humming gets a little louder, a little more pointed and teasing.
“What is that tune?” Aziraphale finally asks. “It’s driving me mad.”
Crowley quirks a grin, taking a moment before he stops to respond. “Willard Bourke. Pianist. We saw him play in the 70s, in that little tavern, you remember. You thought he was handsome.”
Aziraphale blushes, but, yes, he does remember now. They’d been there for a drink, and Aziraphale had been mesmerized by the man’s deft fingers. “Ah.” Aziraphale clears his throat. Crowley says the 70s, like there’d been only one of them, but it had in fact been the 1770s when they’d heard him play. “I do remember, yes. I thought he’d be famous. Pity no one remembers.”
“We do,” Crowley says, and goes back to humming.
Or that time he stops by Crowley’s flat, just for some tea, just for a chat. He finds Crowley in the middle of cooking, cursing quietly to himself. The demon looks frustrated. He’s positively glowering when Aziraphale enters.
Aziraphale surveys his ingredients, face screwing in confusion. “Whatever are you cooking?”
“Stew,” Crowley responds glumly. “Or, at least, I’m trying to. I can’t get it right.”
“Part of the joy of stew is that you don’t have to get it right.” He waves his hands. “The pot does most of the work.”
Crowley hisses, raising his fingers to rub against his eyes. “No, it’s … It’s a specific stew. I’ve been craving it for ages, but no one makes it anymore. It came with these little roasted dill seed bread balls and …” He cuts himself off.
“Crowley–” Aziraphale squints suspiciously. “How old is this recipe, exactly?”
Crowley sighs, already defeated. “Mesopotamia?” he ekes out, abashed.
Aziraphale laughs. “Oh, good! It’ll be a challenge, then.” He pulls the spoon from Crowley’s hand, taking a sip. “Juniper berries,” he decides. “You need juniper berries.”
Or when Warlock is young, maybe 6, not more than 7, though Aziraphale finds it so hard to keep track. He and Nanny Ashtoreth are sitting in the garden, drawing. It’s one of the rare moments when they’re both calm, worn out from a long day of chasing and yelling and plotting.
Aziraphale pretends to mind his rosebushes, but he’s been watching them for some time. Finally, he breaks and walks over.
“Ah, young master Warlock,” he says, peering over their shoulders. “What a wonderful drawing you’ve done. You like dinosaurs, hmm?”
Warlock looks up, colored pencil held tight in his fist. “Nanny is teaching me about extinct animals. Like dinosaurs and thylacines and unicorns.”
Aziraphale shoots Nanny Ashtoreth a look. She doesn’t look back.
Warlock pipes up again. “Nanny invented dinosaurs, did you know?”
“Did she now?” Aziraphale asks. It’s hard to keep his voice straight, because he knows this to be a fact. Crowley had been quite drunk at the time, but he thought it would be hilarious. “Big ‘ol lizards,” he’d said, “just huge, you know. Like a dragon, but they’ll think they’re real, see. Biggest things ever. ‘ould barely fit in the garden, them. Big buggers.”
Warlock nods. “My favorite is the T-Rex. Nanny says it would eat you in one bite.”
Aziraphale hums, discontented, as Nanny Ashtoreth quirks a grin. He spares a glance at what she’s drawing, and stops. It’s the most beautiful drawing of a passenger pigeon he’s ever seen. The reds and blues of it, every detail in its feathers. They’d seen them together, before, before they’d all gotten hunted out.
“It’s a lovely drawing, Nanny,” he says, voice a little more earnest than he means it to be.
The pencil stops, then keeps going.
Warlock looks up at him again. “Nanny says she ate the last one.”
“I did,” Nanny Ashtoreth responds. “And don’t you forget it.”
It’s the little things, the things that, by himself, Aziraphale might not remember. It’s the feel of the earliest silk, the thrill of his first moving picture, the clamor of a Roman marketplace on a hot day. Aziraphale is good at the experiencing, but Crowley has always been one for the remembering. Things stick with him. Things that, otherwise, would have been lost to time.
They’re curled up in bed, two commas together, and it’s been one of those days. Every shine is the glint of a sword, every wayward noise a battle cry, and Aziraphale can’t seem to stop remembering. He remembers the mess and the horror of it, he remembers the loss. All six-thousand years of loss.
Aziraphale swallows, and he hates how thick his throat feels. “Tell me good things,” he asks, meek, tired, and Crowley hums and presses a kiss into his shoulder.
Do you remember? Crowley asks, and keeps going. Do you remember, do you remember?
Yes, Aziraphale responds. Yes, yes, I do now.
They lay there, and remember together, six-thousand years of good and light, and fun and joy, and it’s easier. It doesn’t take away all the bad that he’s seen, but it’s easier. He remembers the food and the smells and the heavy cotton, and the music and the laughter and his first taste of wine. The bad isn’t gone, but there’s good, too, pushing it’s way in to make room.
Do you remember when we met? Crowley whispers, their hands linking.
Aziraphale pulls them up to place a kiss against his knuckles. It was so long ago, a lifetime, but yes, he does.
I remember, he says.
There’s a reason stories like these are still being passed around after 5 years…
This is so utterly beautiful, I’m so glad I got to read it
Oh I needed this today!
the way sesame street, a pbs puppet show for literal babies, is pressing on with pride content despite vitriolic monsters descending on every post to insinuate they're pedophiles or demons while some of the biggest companies on the planet who could swim in olympic swimming pools of money like scrooge mcduck on steroids buckle and cave just emphasizes how completely and utterly pathetic these corporations are. they'd butcher a baby if it meant saving a penny.
where Starbucks and Target and Budweiser will be bullied into submission with the slightest push, puppets and people in your neighborhood stand tall
Sesame Workshop has been doing pride stuff since 2017. The Muppet Wiki has a nice list of stuff they've done:
LGBT culture describes the social paradigm by which lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer (LGBTQ) individuals sometimes identify. C
Jim Henson supported his openly queer colleagues in the 1970s! The Muppet performer Richard Hunt was majorly influential on Sesame Street, the Muppet Show, and Fraggle Rock.
They also dumped Chick-fil-A in 2012 when CFA made their stance on gay marriage known.
It would be a dishonor to their memories for the Jim Henson Company to kowtow to queerphobic demands when their namesake always stood for diversity and acceptance of everyone, and it makes me proud to be a Muppet fan to see that insisted upon 💖🌈
We know many of you have seen NaNoWriMo's recent statements on generative AI...
Well, we have too—and that's why we've made the decision to retract our sponsorship of NaNo.
Your support and belief in human creativity, transparency and collaboration mean everything to us, and we're committed to staying true to that. Thank you all! 💙
You can read our full statement here.
The Ellipsus team xo
You. I like you.
Hello Good Omens fandom - I'm reaching out to you in a plea of fandom solidarity! Please help us!!!
I'm writing on behalf of The Dead Boy Detectives fandom: our show was canceled in its first season, cut off without a care for its dedicated fandom or its insane amount of potential. Yet another queer, diverse, supernatural show suffers an unfair fate and we're bloody sick of it! We believe Netflix and Warner Bros. are making a huge mistake!
Could you guys please sign our petition and help spread it by reblogging?
Renew Dead Boy Detectives on Netflix
We're not just trying to get a season 2: we're trying to get justice for the cast, crew, and writers behind this unapologetically queer show. They had the writers write a season 2 just to cancel the show and, frankly, that's objectively a slimy thing to do. I believe Dead Boy Detectives is a casualty of its time, that shows cult-clasic, niche shows like Buffy or Supernatural for instance would suffer the same fate today if held to Netflix's callous and cruel standards and their blatant disregard for creatives.
Lastly, our shows are actually quite similar, and I think if you enjoy Good Omens you would enjoy Dead Boy Detectives as well! Please don't let the cancellation deter you, it really it a phenomenal show that will have you laughing one moment and crying the next. It has so much heart! Please help us save our boys who defy heaven and hell with their love! 💜
Thank you in advance to any of you who sign. Netflix has gotten far too comfortable nuking shows, especially those with queer themes and diverse leading chacters, in their prime. If you sign and share our petition in an act of fandom solidarity please know it means the world to our detective agency and we appreciate you so much!!!💀🔎💜
Last thing I promise this post is not intended to clog your tag in any way: this will be the only post I make in your tag! I wouldn't want our fandom to bleed into your space! We're just desperate for help and there's so much overlap in our fandoms and shows that it made sense to reach out to you all - I figure the least I can do for the show I love so much is to try. Thank you again 🖤
Let’s go guys. We can do this. I’m a ball of anxiety and nerves, but I believe in us. We just need to keep trucking, keep trying, keep being noticed.
#save dead boy detectives
Without him, the galaxy would be a lot less Welsh🏴
The photos of Michael Sheen from his recent coverage in The Guardian were calling to me. So I made some more wallpaper. Let me know if you use them! 😊😇🌌
Being poor is very stressful. US Social Services suck.
I will genuinely never forgive anyone involved in making The Imitation Game for their absolute travesty of Alan Turing’s story.
He was intensely autistic, and gay, and *kind*.
He mentored people below him in the programme - including women, who pretty much everyone else was crappy to.
He had terrible allergies and went cycling in a gas mask in the country to avoid then, and when he got overstimulated at parties he pulled incredibly daft elaborate “walking into a cupboard” leaving gags to handle them that left everyone screaming on the floor despite the silliness.
He got on really well with kids and never talked down to them. He gave his neighbours his sugar rations on their kids’ birthdays so she could always make them birthday cakes - even when he was being persecuted after the war, even when he was suffering horrible side effects from the tortures they put him through.
He was such an utterly, genuinely lovely human being, and he deserved so much damn better, and at the very *least* he deserved to be portrayed as who he was in the 21st fucking century instead of falling into a whole slew of horrifically harmful stereotypes that erased the fucking gift he was to us all over again.
Welp, I was overdue to cry about how unfair the world was to Alan Turing, anyway...
tumblr users love reading. you literally stopped for this post just because it has words in it
this is one of my favorite bits about tumblr
the users seem to actually prefer text posts to anything else, and treat it as a chore to play a video especially with sound
Destroy the myth that libraries are no longer relevant. If you use your library, please reblog.
Destroy the enemies of your local library. If you will send fiery ravens into their home or trap them in an endless labyrinth of shelves, also reblog.
The fact that people are getting mad at Amir Talai or ANY voice actor for disavowing AI mimicking their voices and threatening legal action towards people who make money off of stealing their voices is actually insane to me
AI has no place in art. Voice acting is art. To use AI in order to mimic someone’s voice and make money is THEFT. AI in art does not suddenly become okay when it’s used in a way you enjoy. I don’t care how funny you think it is, I don’t care that you finally got a cover of Joel Perez singing Meant to be Yours from Heathers because you didn’t. You are supporting theft. AI has no place in art
Kamala Harris' career is a perfect guide for how to infiltrate a corrupt system and slowly change it from within.
She played the long game and made strategic compromises. She followed the rules, even the ones she didn't agree with, knowing that doing so would enable her to rise in the ranks and secure a position of power. And then whenever she managed to achieve a greater position power, she used her new power to change the rules for the better.
And I think it bothers certain leftists that Kamala Harris exists, because she challenges the story they've been telling themselves and everyone who will listen to them, that it is impossible to change the system from within, and the only solution is violent revolution.
Kamala Harris is living proof that there is a more humane, more deliberate, and more effective way to improve a broken system than simply waiting for it to destroy itself and hoping something better replaces it.
Her existence challenges the worldview of certain extreme leftists who would rather punish the system for its sins than try to improve it. They have become so resistant to having this worldview challenged that they are participating in a smear campaign against Kamala Harris. They are now promoting a false narrative that she's totally corrupt and morally bankrupt and she hasn't accomplished anything, just so they can continue evangelizing their false doctrine that corrupt systems are irredeemable, and the only solution is violent revolution.
I don't know what it will take to de-radicalize the leftists who've fallen into this ideological pit where they value ideological purity over actual real-world progress.
Kamala Harris is not perfect, and that's actually a point in her favor.
Because perfect is the enemy of good.
We don't need our political leaders to be perfect. We need them to do good.