Who's hyped for season 2?
Reblogged
“Facts don’t care about your feelings?
Wrong.
Tales and dreams are the shadow-truths, that will endure when mere facts are dust and ashes, and forgot.
And in my realm, her tale had been written.”
The AO3 sharing feature drives me absolutely insane.
Basically, Morpheus says trans rights in this one.
Tw: Suicide, gender dysphoria, child death
Source: archiveofourown.org
Reblogged
Ineffable Infinity - Good Omens oneshot
Aziraphale was done.
Done with the Metatron, done with archangels. The Apocalypse, Armageddon, the Second Coming, the struggle, the abyss between him and Crowley, the hellfire burning right in front of him. Inexistence. The end. He didn't want to think about it. wanted it all to stop.
And in that moment, right about to be burned for his final act of treason, he realized that he did not need to want. He could stop. If not the hellfire, or time itself, then his time. He could stop. With a simple miracle. Who would notice? And he did.
He closed his eyes. The fire disappeared. Everything stopped.
He was in a dark and timeless space, behind his eyes, within. But he was not alone. He wished there to be light.
-Welcome, Aziraphale. -Said the familiar voice, in perfect synchrony with the light's arrival. It was good. -My clever, clever angel. You found me.
-...God?
-The one and all.
-I'm...gonna die now, won't I? The hellfire... or... am I dead already?!
-You are, -Said the Lord, - and you are not. Both at the same time. You are out of time, and out of space. Only here, and now, can one meet me.
-Was... this in your plan?
-Well, yes, of course.
-All of it? The Second Coming? And me thwarting it? Armageddon too?
-All of it.
-Why?
For a moment, there was silence.
-If only I could make you understand...but if you could, you would become...
Aziraphale felt, for a moment, that he might have had this conversation before. It lasted a single instant, and God's voice returned.
-No matter. You can't really understand.
-Inneffable. -Sighed Aziraphale. -I know.
-Inneffable...-God hesitated. -Perhaps... But I will give you another word.
-Another... word?
-Endless.
-Endless?
-Yes. Completely endless, Aziraphale. The possibilities are, have always been, endless. I can see it right now. As I talk to you.
-And... what do you see?
The angel was becoming less and less afraid of asking questions to the voice he once feared. Here, now, he understood why mortals called The Lord "father", or "mother. It was familiar. Giant, but welcoming. He knew it. Not entirely, but a tiny, infinitely tiny bit of it, he knew. His mind conjured the image of a drop of water, in conversation with the ocean. It was enough for him not to fear.
-I see -Responded God,- your first breath. I see you gain consciousness, in darkness, no Earth, no light, before everything. Do you remember it?
-Yes. - Said Aziraphale. The feeling was welcoming, all over him. He did remember his birth.
-And I see the end of the world. -Said God. - I see it end with Adam, as the nuclear bombs explode and the war between heaven and hell begins.
Aziraphale, puzzled, looked up. As if God was up. Was God up? Could She be down? Or around him? Or everywhere? He never questioned it before.
-Fantastic. You begin to grasp it! -Said God. -Though you never will finish to grasp it, of course. But you are right. I am everywhere. And everywhen.
Indeed, you cannot see that ending to the world. You and Crowley, and Adam himself, and many others chose to miss it when you averted the apocalipse. But there is another universe, many other universes in which you did not avert it, and I can see them right now.
Do you understand? Just as I see you and Crowley arise from divine matter, in what you call the past; I see you and Crowley dissappear forever, him in holy water and you in hellfire, in a moment you call "never". Because you both avoided it as well. But I can see the world where you didn't.
And I see your eyes shine in a fiery red as you join Crowley, both falling from heaven as one. And I can see Crowley's white wings soar in heaven, a heaven that he rules, with you. Oh, I see you and Crowley living a human life. Falling in human love. Dying a human death.
You don't understand it, do you? I see pain. I see joy. I see grief. I see love. I see death and birth. I see the future, the past, the present, and the multiple versions of "never". And it's all in front of me, really, at this very moment. I suppose I could look at it through every existing eye, feel it with every existing soul, all at once, in this moment.
But even for me, Aziraphale, that would be too much.
That is why I choose to focus. Here. With you. Right now. Both of us, blissfully unaware of infinity.
None of this multiverse, this endless infinity, is a plan, Aziraphale. It is my existence. I simply am. The creator, the creature. The observer, the observed. Above, below. As I opened my eyes so did the cosmos. As I once gained consciousness, so it all began.
Do you understand now? Even a fraction of it?
-I'm trying. -He smiled.
-Yes. And you are doing perfectly well.
Then you may begin to comprehend, Aziraphale. I could promise you, that you will leave this conversation and fall not towards death, but into Crowley's arms. I can see it happen, in endless moments, endless universes. But the worlds in which you die will always exist.
Understand it. For every world in which you live, there is one in which you die. For every world ended, there is a world being born. For every moment of love, there is another moment of grief. For every smile in your face, there is another face covered in tears. And it's all in front of me. I see it all, I am it all, always. So it's my turn to ask you: why? Why would I interfere with any of it?
-But why must there be tears at all?
-How could you love someone you've never longed for?
Aziraphale was quiet.
-The choice is yours, Aziraphale. You are perfect as you are, as you have always been, to make that choice. What do you long for? Which world will you travel to? Which ending will you see?
If you want Crowley, my dear, run to him. Do not ask me for permission. Your possibilities are endless, and I am merely all of them. I have no single plan. But you do. You have chosen your path, now follow it.
Aziraphale's angelic head spun in attempt to understand. But he could not. Yet, he knew, felt what he needed to do.
For once in his life, he would follow his plan.
And as with that thought, he felt his entire body burn.
He knew he had crossed the hellfire. He was now lying on the cold ground, beyond the pyre. He felt a pair of arms embracing him. He felt tears, heard sobs. When he opened his eyes, he saw Crowley.
The Sandman fanart. Text from the first issue of the comics.
With this artwork I wanted to explore the concept of incorporeality, and for that I chose the moment in which Dream escapes from captivity.
Dream, an incorporeal being who represents the opposite of reality, was caged in the physical plane. Confined to a single, physical human form. A single naked body being watched by guards who never sleep, constantly seen, constantly in flesh. No distractions, no dreams, no way of escaping the matter, the endless staring at the wall, the unforgiving, relentless reality. And he doesn't move, doesn't speak. Because he won't? Or because he can't? This place rejects, twists, disturbs his very essence. Severed from his kingdom, confined in pure physicality, could Dream speak? If he were to speak, would he not be surrendering the last part of himself that remained unheard and untouched? Wouldn't that mean filling up the physical space, stepping fully into the matter, letting it entrap and consume him? Would that not be death to a dream? No, he can't speak. He waits.
And then, freedom. Dignity once more. He clothes himself in black, the color of the unconscious, the color of shadows, his color, his dream-like form covered in darkness once more. His body unseen, his rightful place in the cosmos reclaimed. With a flow of black fabric, the king is back.
Friendly reminder that during the beginning of the pandemic, museus shared "virtual tours", people shared pdf books, livestreamed music concerts, certain TV channels were available for free. For a short period of time, we realized that art is a basic necessary service. And then we forgot again.
But remember. The reason artists get exploited. The reason people struggle to pay for art. The reason they want it *for free*. Our work is craved, needed, absolutely crucial.
Remember that when you are forced to confront pure reality. Standing in line, no activities to distract you. And you need to think, daydream, do *anything*. Remember when you drive or walk without listening to music. When you wear clothes that don't fit your style. When you've been so busy you don't have time for a book, an movie, a song, nothing. Remember sitting in a room, staring at the walls. Doing nothing. Remember the moments when you close your eyes in bed but dreams have not yet arrived. Darkness. The nightmare people imagine when they think of death, no less. No pain, just pure reality, with no dreams in it. This is life without art.