This makes total sense because it feels a lot more like a Prachett book than a Gaiman.
Terry wrote 75% of Good Omens <3 video link <3
'you still listen to music from 10 years ago �' bitch if prehistoric humans had audio recording technology id be sat up here listening to grog and unga bunga's greatest hits don't play with me
Dying right now
itâs a beautiful day⌠paget wore a jemily t-shirt to the season 19 table read
I genuinely love anthropologists so much
At the start of one of my many attempts at uni (we're no joke on number seven) I took an anthropology class because it seemed cool. This was at the absolute height of the popularity of Bones so the first lecture was literally standing room only, fire hazard levels of packed.
So the professor comes in and I cannot express enough how much this man was actually round, not tall, greying, balding, and literally wearing a three-piece tweed suit with a little red bow tie. He was the most perfect human being I've ever met.
Anyway the look on his face when he saw an actually packed lecture theatre was one of sheer unbridled glee. Natural, right? His dinky little subject is suddenly unbelievably popular.
Which gave him the perfect opportunity to talk about pissing for a solid hour. Because that was his specialist subject. Comparative urination etiquette.
This man who was the Platonic ideal of a humanities professor stood there and talked enthusiastically about piss to a packed to the rafters lecture theatre full of bright-eyed first years, and as this was a Monday morning it was almost certainly many people's first ever university lecture of their whole life. His eyes were glittering with joy the whole hour. He was having the time of his life.
There were absolutely no questions at the end of the lecture. He, apparently having fully understood what he was doing, clearly expected this and instructed us to have a lovely day and wished us good luck on our higher education journey.
You could sit anywhere you wanted in the lecture theatre the next week and the lecture was intro to methods in anthropology.
I don't think I could ever love a man more than I still love him.
once i beat the depression and the burnout and the anxiety and the loneliness and the exhaustion and the guilt and the awkwardness and the apathy and the low income and the chronic illness and the impatience and the vulnerability and the creative block and the capitalism and the cruelty THEN you'll see
This is so cute â¤ď¸
Hereâs my comic about Crowleyâs bender in Spain
featuring medieval spanish literature, lyrics from the musical candide, and headcanons about cocoa
đ đŻ The X-Files âGender Benderâ S1E14
Itâs all fun and games being a neurodivergent introvert watching Criminals Minds until the profile starts to hit a little too close to homeâŚ
Your gender is now the first randomized wikipedia article you get. No rerolls.
when mulder comes back from his abduction and sees scully pregnant, his first instinctive reaction is to feel betrayed and hurt because goddamnit they were finally ready, finally so open to explore all that they could be. they were so close to having it allâŚ
but then he understood: he had died! he had died and she hadnât and she had moved on, she had to. she was right to do so, of course. he always knew he held her back and maybe she had finally learned that too. and now he was back and already sucking her back in, making her spend all the hours at the hospital by his side, not eating not sleeping. and all because she pitied him, pitied the story the scars on his body told and nothing more. he saw it in her eyes.
so he pulled back, he pushed her away the best he could (which was never much but oh gosh he tried). he was cold to her and as confused and conflicted as he felt he thought it was for the best, it was for her.
and scully tried to understand him. after all he had died! he had died and she hadnât and she knew better than anyone what trauma like that can do to your mind, right?
she thought he didnât want to hurt her feelings by asking for space to process it all and so she tried to not suffocate him. she gave him time and space. she checked in with him but didnât press when he didnât answer. she shielded him from most things from the office. she brushed off his apathy like it didnât hurt like a motherfucker if she was being honest. she thought it was for the best, it was for him.
but theres just so much a girl can take and a disaster was just around the corner waiting to happen. the breakdown was inevitable.
it happens in one of the many nights she went to his place to check on him and got hit with his usual âiâm fineâ crap. she finally snapped.
âmulder stop! just stop! you have no right to do this to me and you know why? because you know exactly how i felt when you were gone, donât you? when every second feels like an hour and every hour feels like a year. when another day passes and all you can feel when you lay your head in your pillow at night is fear and anguish and failureâ
her storm takes him by surprise and he just stands there, sunken stomach and aghast. of course he knew what it felt like. he knew he could never forget the pain of the days she wasnât with him.
âbut you know what you didnât have to see? my dead body dumped in a field. I had to see that. Did you even consider this for a second?â the rage and hurt in her eyes pierces him, her voice growing louder as she went on âI had to cry over you and beg for it to be a lie. I had to make all the arrangements for your funeral because I needed the closure of a final goodbye. I held your hand for hours till I tricked my mind it was warm again and Skinner had to physically drag me away from you. I dumped the dirt over your casket. I got anxious to go to sleep in hopes i could see you in my dreams only to have recurring nightmares about your body turning into a hard corpse crushing me. I had to go to work every damn day just to keep my mind occupied when i didnât even know if someone really had my back because i was only ever certain with you. I had to think like you and see things only you ever saw just to make your absence a little less painful"
at this point she was shouting, angrily wiping the tears from her eyes. he made no effort to do the same to his own, eyes fixed on hers. the truth hit him like daggers. she was right, he hadnât thought about any of that because it was unbearable and he knew if the roles were reversed he wouldnât have taken half of what she did - he would have ended up committed somewhere or lying next to her seven feet underground.
âI had to curse God over and over asking how could he be so cruel and I had to beg for forgiveness when He showed me all of his mercy and He gave you back to me. I have to swallow the urge to spend every second by your side because iâm scared that when i close the door you will disappear again. Goddamnit Mulder! You have no right to shut me out now! Not after everything!â
His legs finally decided to work again and he crossed the room in a stride, picking her up in the first real, raw, embrace since he returned. she buried her face completely into his chest, craving her nails on his back, bringing him impossibly close. he wallowed his sorrows and begged for forgiveness in her ear. he held her face gently with both his hands, lifting her chin up to urgently kiss her forehead, her eye lids, her cheeks, her tears, the tip of her nose. her lips. and he promised he would never leave again.
they both knew it was a promise he wasnât sure he could keep, but, for now, it was enough. in that moment, the true mulder, her mulder, was back to her.
Here for the gay little vibes: Criminal Minds, X-Files, Good Omens, Doctor Who, etc.
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