#Yes I changed the sheep

[ampresandian]

My (unofficial) PJO season 2 episode 5 script part 3/4 (part 1 | part 2)

I think towards the end of this section my lack of screenwriting experience becomes more apparent but I had a vision and tried to paint the picture probably a little too much so sorry if you're an actor/screenwriter and it looks/reads weird.

Images of script and copied text (bc I'm lazy and don't want to write out alt text) under the cut, just in case I didn't tag enough spoiler warning or people aren't interested <3

Annabeth Tries to Swim Home

MATCH CUT TO: INT. DARK VICTORIAN HOUSE – NIGHT. 

Continuation of first scene/flashback. YOUNG ANNABETH is still running down the hallway, but seems more determined. 

Thunder shakes the windows as she runs down a staircase. She turns a corner into a sitting room. The chairs are upturned, feathers coming out of the pillows all over the floor. A draft comes in from the dark fireplace, whistling with the storm. 

Annabeth stops in the middle of the room, facing the three doors that she has to choose from. They look the same. 

Hearing heavy footsteps, she opens the leftmost door, closing it quickly behind her. Breathing heavily, she presses her back to the door. 

Looking around the room, Annabeth finds herself in an orangery, the glass pelted by rain. Two of the large windows were cracked, spiderwebs expanding from old sites of impact. A few dead fruit trees sit in one corner. 

Through the cracks and the rain, Annabeth can see a light coming from a window several rooms down on the first floor of the house. Creeping closer, she presses her hand to the glass as she watches the light. 

In another room, Annabeth can see the CYCLOPS, but not much of the room. He lifts his arm, raising THALIA into view from the window. She struggles, and he looks to be laughing. He sets her back down, bending down himself as well (to tie her up, off screen). 

Turning from the window, Annabeth looks determined. 

YOUNG ANNABETH: (quietly) Hang on, Thalia. I’m coming.

She leaves the orangery from the second door, leading to a less Victorian hallway, one that would have been a servants’ corridor a few centuries ago. The walls look to be made of clay, and the floor is uneven in places. She nearly trips. 

Annabeth creeps through an open door, entering a dark room with a long table and walls lined with cupboards. China is smashed on the floor, half the cupboard doors open and hanging by hinges all along the room. Ahead, there’s an open door, light spilling through. 

Annabeth approaches, looking through to see a large room that used to be a kitchen, a large broken stove and Victorian era cookware off to one side. In the middle of the room is a raging fire. There are bones all over the floor. 

Near the stove sit THALIA, LUKE, and GROVER, tied up. Luke has a large gash at his hairline, but they seem mostly unharmed. Annabeth follows their eyes to see the large Cyclops in the middle of the room, near the fire. He is already looking at her, grinning. 

CUT TO: EXT. QUEEN ANNE’S REVENGE – DAY

PERCY is on deck, steering the ship through the sea. ANNABETH appears behind him, coming up from the cabin below. 

PERCY: (turning to look at her) Hey. How did you sleep?

ANNABETH: Fine. I-- (pointing) Percy. Look. 

In the distance, a lush island can be seen, meadows and forest on one side, cliffs and beach on the other. 

ANNABETH (CONT): Are we...?

PERCY: (nodding) 30, 31, 75, 12. That’s it. 

They look out at the island, closer now. Annabeth points towards a large tree. 

ANNABETH: The Fleece. 

PERCY: What’s protecting it? There’s no way it’s as easy as just going up there and taking it. 

ANNABETH: There should be... Jason had to fight a dragon in the story. It should have a guardian of some sort. 

As they watch, one of the large sheep visible on the island breathes fire, setting the grass in front of it aflame. The fire quickly dies, leaving brown grass that turns back to green and vibrant as they watch. 

ANNABETH (CONT): The Fleece must keep the island unburned. 

PERCY: So when we take it, it’ll just burn?

ANNABETH: (gasping) Percy, look!

On the beach is a small boat, just like the one they escaped the CSS Birmingham on. 

PERCY: That’s the other lifeboat. You don’t think... 

ANNABETH: (grim) We’ll never be able to get through those sheep. Sail around to the cliffs. 

CUT TO: EXT. POLYPHEMUS’ ISLAND – DAY. 

Cliffs and sea sparkle in frame. The Queen Anne’s Revenge sails into view around the cliffs, stopping at the base of them. Percy and Annabeth are on deck looking up at the cliffs, a little apprehensive. 

ANNABETH: Come on. It’ll be just like the climbing wall back at camp. 

PERCY: That’s what I’m worried about. 

Annabeth glares at him. Percy readies himself. 

PERCY (CONT): Okay. Let’s go.

Percy moves towards the cliffs, as if to start climbing. 

ANNABETH: I’m going first. 

PERCY: What? Why?

Annabeth rolls her eyes and begins climbing. Percy makes a sarcastic gesture and follows. 

Percy and Annabeth climb the cliffs, steadily making their way up. Percy mostly follows the path Annabeth takes. 

ANNABETH: Watch out here. 

Percy chooses a slightly different path at her warning. 

Suddenly, Percy’s hand slips. He dangles from the cliff by one hand. With the sideways motion, RIPTIDE falls out of his pocket, landing in the sea below. Percy looks down before refocusing on the cliff, finding another handhold. 

ANNABETH (CONT): Are you okay?

PERCY: (looking down) Yeah. Let’s go. 

ANNABETH: What was that?

PERCY: Nothing. It’ll come back. (turning back to the cliff) Let’s go. 

They continue climbing, starting back up a little slower than they were before. 

Nearly at the top, Annabeth’s foot slips. 

ANNABETH: Oh! 

She flounders before finding a foothold on Percy’s head. She rebalances. 

PERCY: Ah!

Percy tries to remain still, supporting her in spite of his surprise. Annabeth moves her foot back to the cliff. 

ANNABETH: Sorry. 

PERCY: It’s okay.

ANNABETH: Sorry. 

Annabeth reaches the top of the cliff, pulling herself over. She turns back and helps Percy up too. Percy goes to speak, but Annabeth puts her hand over his mouth to stop him. 

They move to the edge of the ledge they are on, peering down into a cavern below. Through the crack, they can see POLYPHEMUS, GROVER in his wedding dress, a large fire in the middle of the floor, and CLARISSE, tied up. 

CLARISSE: (struggling) Give me back my sword and I’ll fight you!

POLYPHEMUS: Well, bride? Should we eat her now, or save her for wedding feast tonight?

Grover flounders, nearly tripping over his dress.

CLARISSE: Bride? Do you mean Grover?

ANNABETH: (whisper) Shut up, Clarisse.

POLYPHEMUS: What is a ‘Grover?’

CLARISSE: The satyr? He’s right there.

GROVER: Oh, dear, her poor brain is boiling, you have to--

CLARISSE: In the wedding dress!

Polyphemus turns to Grover and pulls off the wedding veil, revealing his horns. Grover exclaims.

POLYPHEMUS: I don’t see so well. Not since Nobody stabbed me in eye. But you. Are no lady Cyclops!

Grover cries out as Polyphemus swipes at him. 

GROVER: Oh, stop! Don’t eat me raw!

POLYPHEMUS: (pausing, holding up a boulder) Eat you raw?

GROVER: Oh, no, I’ll taste awful! I have a recipe! I’ll taste much better grilled, with mango chutney! 

POLYPHEMUS: Mango chutney?

GROVER: Yes, yes. You have mangos right out there, in the forest. I’ll just wait here. You go gather them. 

Polyphemus considers, before turning to Clarisse. 

POLYPHEMUS: Grilled satyr. You are one too?

CLARISSE: No, you overgrown pile of dung! I am the daughter of Ares! Untie me so I can rip your arms off!

POLYPHEMUS: Rip my arms off.

CLARISSE: And stuff them down your throat! Let me down!

POLYPHEMUS: You got spunk. Have to graze sheepies now. Wedding after, with grilled satyr for the feast!

GROVER: You’re... Still getting married? 

Polyphemus looks at Clarisse. 

PERCY: (quietly, from above) Ew. 

Polyphemus gathers his sheep, throwing the door to the cave open as Clarisse understands. 

CLARISSE: Oh, no, you cannot be serious. Absolutely--

POLYPHEMUS: I come back at sundown for the big event!

He seals the cave, mumbling about mangos as he walks down the mountain with his sheep. 

ANNABETH: (exchanging a glance with Percy) Come on. I have a plan. 

(PART 4)

[sodacanbones]

CHIBI CHUUYA BEHGING SO LOUDLY

did you order a *checks paper* unspecified chibi(er) chuuya

[clara-maybe-ontheroad]

The impact of toxic family dynamics in Till the End of the Moon (长月烬明)

A bit random and I have never done character analysis posts so it might not be as good as some other posts on here but bear with me.

I'm watching Till the End of the Moon (ep 25) and the recent development of Ye Bingchang's character into a full blown villain has made me hate her, but also empathize with her in ways I didn't expect.

To contextualise, Ye Bingchang 叶冰裳 is the second child and first daughter of the Ye family, and she is basically the perfect daughter of a noble Chinese family. She's sweet and kind, beautiful but not attention seeking, smart but not a smart ass, dutiful and filial, delicate and thoughtful. She shares a beautiful love story with Prince Xiao Lin 萧凛, the 6th son of the Emperor, so she's going to marry in the Imperial Family and no doubt bring honor to the Ye Clan. She seems to be doing everything exactly right.

And yet she's a second class citizen in her own family, who openly favours her younger sister Ye Xiwu 叶夕雾.

Now there are two levels to this.

1) They're openly and unabashedly favouring one child over the 3 others, but then still ranking the other kids, and somehow Ye Bingchang ranks lower than her brother who is a lazy and stupid gambler. Her family simply doesn't see her, she's completely forgettable to them, like her existence only matters because sure, she's their blood, but she's a complete afterthought.

2) The daughter they favour over her is Ye Xiwu, and Ye Xiwu is a monster of a golden child. She's completely selfish and narcissistic, she explicitly abuses her husband, she schemes again and again to seduce and try to rape Prince Xiao Lin, her sister's one true love and fiancé, and when this doesn't work she becomes physically violent towards Ye Bingchang as well.

Ye Xiwu is an extremely abusive and horrible person, straight up. And her family continuously makes excuses for her violent behaviour, dotes on her, spoils her, and barely has a look for Ye Bingchang, expecting her to forgive and turn the other cheek. The golden child / black sheep dynamic is at its peak.

I find it quite rare that in this type of situation, a show will have the golden child as our hero ; almost always, if there are complicated family relationships, the main character is the one who's rejected, underestimated, and who has to rise through those challenges (which applies to our main male character Tantai Jin 澹台烬 btw, and I think we could say a lot of the parallels between Tantai Jin and Ye Bingchang).

I can think of other cases where the child who was favoured is the main character over the child who is rejected (Jiang Cheng 江澄 in The Untamed 陈情令, Feng Chang 丰苌 in Who Rules the World 且试天下) but they're not as clear cut as this (Jiang Cheng being his mom's favorite and the only actual son of the family while Wei Wuxian 魏无羡 is also a black sheep on many levels, Feng Chang's more favoured brother Feng Lanxi 丰兰息 being fairly rejected as well and having to fight not to be poisoned).

The golden child as a main character works here because it isn't actually Ye Xiwu : we discover her character and the situation when the spirit of Li Susu 黎苏苏 travels back in time and takes possession of Ye Xiwu's body. Our main character is really Li Susu, and like the audience she's horrified to learn everything Ye Xiwu has been doing, disgusted by her abusive behaviour towards her sister and her husband, and at first disapproves of how much the Ye family favours her over Ye Bingchang. But she also comes to love the Ye family as her own, and the fact that they would neglect one of their daughters so much doesn't impact her affection for them.

We only learn about Ye Xiwu's abuse through flashbacks, so it doesn't have the same emotional impact for us as an audience, and we only brief moments of those memories so we don't have to confront the full magnitude of how horrible she was, including to Ye Bingchang. Again, Ye Xiwu tried to rape her sister's one true love and fiancé, and even after getting married herself she continued to throw herself at him, and when it didn't work she turned to actual physical violence on Ye Bingchang.

And throughout this, the Ye family excuses it all away, and even Ye Bingchang excuses it away. She forgives before Ye Xiwu even apologizes, because she knows that's what's expected of her, and she just tries her best to be a kind soul still defending her sister from people spreading rumors about her. In a way, she's a victim of domestic violence who forgives an abuser and thinks she just needs to be softer, sweeter, weaker, so maybe they don't feel like bullying her anymore.

So when Ye Bingchang tries to use the affection of men to get protection, to feel love and be sheltered from her condition, it's very understandable and to me resembles a lot of things I've seen in real life. And when she turns to resentment over her condition and decides she needs to gain control over her situation through getting some amount of power so she can protect herself, it's an arc we could expect from a main character.

She only becomes a villain after the arc of Bo're Life, in which our four main characters Tantai Jin, Ye Xiwu/Li Susu, Xiao Lin and Ye Bingchang are absorbed into a dragon's dreams of its past as a War God centuries ago. Ye Bingchang is "reincarnated" in this dream as a powerful immortal, a scorned lover but who has the power to actually be vengeful over the woman who steals the man she loves. The object of her ire being Ye Xiwu, reincarnated in a very sweet clam spirit woman, Ye Bingchang gets a taste of what power feels like, of what manipulation feels like, and of what revenge over Ye Xiwu would feel like. And when even in this dream life, Ye Xiwu is preferred over her and she ends up dying, she comes back to herself determined to change and not let others control her life anymore.

Every character (except Xiao Lin really) seems deeply influenced by what they lived in Bo're Life, having identity crises of sorts over who they actually are now. As an aside, it works as a pretty good plot device to suddenly get Tantai Jin a lot more open to Ye Xiwu/Li Susu and move their romance along, it almost feels like cheating but I'll allow it.

Anyway, Ye Bingchang has now slowly become as manipulative and cruel as her counterpart in Bo're Life, and it's easy to just see it as that counterpart taking over her body in a way.

But this manipulative and cruel streak is born out of the profound reality that she can not count on her family to protect her, and that the people who were supposed to love her unconditionally preferred her literal abuser over her.

She did everything right and it was never enough, so now it's time for her to claim her life back.

And again, in another show (like the Story of Yanxi Palace 延禧攻略 for example), this urge to climb to power so no one can hurt you anymore and take revenge on the people who ruined your life along the way, it would make you the hero.

But here, Ye Bingchang still can't win, and she actually turns into a villain.

[sluttish-armchair]

Ok but thinking back to how I was in elementary and middle school: I had such disdain for other kids who broke the rules, that I irrationally hated a whole bunch of kids — kids I would have made good friends with — all because I couldn’t stand the fact that they engaged in conflicts with, and affronts to authority figures or standards.

It even went as far as internally mocking a kid my age — calling him “Mama’s Boy” in my head — over the fact that his mother whispered comments into his ear, which he mumbled unintelligibly into the mic, and then would fall asleep as if dead on her arm. I perceived his inability to give comments on his own, and his sleeping, as moral failings of both mother and child; because I wasn’t raised like that. And maybe, those feelings also came from jealousy. I was expected to fight off sleep all the time because I could read at a college level in third grade, and could theoretically understand the material presented at the meetings despite it still being inappropriate for my age group.

I was so far deep into the “bad associations spoil useful habits” mindset that it made me hate my fellow neurodivergents — kids I would have been friends with — who maybe couldn’t hide it as well as I could. That is beyond fucked up. Now, I work with those very kids I disliked so much as a child, and guess what? They are my absolute favorite people to be around; and many of them remind me of myself.

[cynthrey]

“That night was quite a sight to behold. For years at the annual masquerade, the Ruler of Rivendell had only picked the Codfather to dance. Yet, this year despite their previous animosities, as soon as the King of Mythland walked into the room they were both drawn to each other as if under a spell.”

“What could have possibly changed this year that drew these rulers so close?”

[sabraeal]

The Vagrant's Season, Part 2

[Read on AO3]

Written for @onedivinemisfit for her birthday! This is part of Annie's Shapeshifter AU; a prequel to this piece, filling in the weeks from when Obi arrived in The Valley to the start of mating season. There are a half dozen version of the song I adapt for Shirayuki in this, but I referred to two specific ones to cobble together this one: Marianne Lihannah's and Pernille Anker's. There is also one line from this folk song in the last scene!

“You’re a shy little one, aren’t you?” The vixen doesn’t stoop or sing-song, not like how the menfolk would when they saw him like this, just a shadow and a snout hidden amongst their shrubbery. A good thing too; if she shrilled the way the goodwives would, calling him a sweet pup and lille vennen and gutten min, he’d have skittered away faster than mice in a pantry.

Instead her voice is soft, riding the same rise and lull as her song, and her hands never pause in their picking. A practiced motion— reach, pinch, twist; reach, pinch, twist— that never falters, even when she slants him her curious glance. “I mean you no harm. There’s more than enough for the both of us here, if we only take for the needing.”

Ah, now that stings him, just a little. He’d seen her sorting out her tubers and berries that first time, plucking the bounty he’d meant to have all to himself until spring, and well— he’d scampered off, sure, half-scared of even a wilder’s shadow, but he’d come back too. Gave himself two good hands to pillage with and glutted himself on what she’d left behind, sure he’d find some other hole to weather out the last of winter.

Even with no stars yet in the sky he knew the footfalls that would take him toward Yuris, toward Tanbar, toward any place but that little glade and the vixen whose scent lingered on every leaf. And yet honey and bitter greens never quite left his nose, turning his paws in circles, spiraling him back to this very clearing, over and over. Spirit-blind he may be, but let it never be said Obi couldn't take a hint from one, when it was given.

“It’s warmer here in the sun.” Her tone is conversational rather than cajoling, and Obi’s tempted to take the invitation. Spread out his shorter legs, cramped from where he’s been camped in the bushes, waiting for her to finish her picking and sorting. Maybe even see if she might feed him from her hands, the way the young girls did at the village outskirts, too young to know the difference between a fox and a pup. “I know fur so fine as yours must keep you warm even in the snows, but it’s quite nice to have the light on you.”

She breathes in, misting the air with her exhale. “You can almost believe it’s spring.”

It will come soon enough; he smells it on the air even now, the promise of plenty enough to make his belly tremble. A few more weeks and he could eat his fill, strengthen up for whatever journey still laid ahead. Nice as it might be to survive on the outskirts of the Valley, growing fat on their game and forage, that sour scent in the north will mosey its way down here sometime this summer. Unpleasant as that dog smells, he’ll be needing to deal with the Keeper, trade with the other wilder in his pack. Maybe even mate, if he could find a vixen to stand him.

This vixen sits back on her heels, sigh as sweet as her scent wafting up from her lips. “Well, that’s that then. Guess we won’t meet today, little one.”

Toes curl beneath her, and with the sort of limber grace village girls lacked but wilder women possessed in spades, she bounces up to her feet, basket teetering on her hip like a smile does on her lips. “Maybe next time, then. Be a pity for neighbors not to get along with each other.”

When he steps out of the brush, it’s on two legs, one hand scratching at the nape of his neck.

“Get along,” he mutters, shoving a berry into his mouth. It breaks sour over his tongue. “See how long that lasts.”

*

There’s no convenient cave to make his camp, no abandoned lean-to left by a less wary vagrant passing through to warmer climes, but Obi does find a hollow not far from the vixen’s glade. An old yew, wider than two of him together could wrap around, beginning to rot from the inside. The sort of thing the volva would have clucked their collective tongues over, proclaiming that its spirit was sick and frail, a terrible portents for the future of their community.

But for him it’s only a tight squeeze on two legs and a cozy hideaway on four. Keeps him dry at least, and warm when the winds blow, though even as he drifts asleep, he hears the wood creaking like their voices, stay too long as a little one and you’ll be wild in truth.

It becomes habit to watch the vixen about her business; mostly small, letting his dark fur hide him among the shadows even as she tries to call him out from cover, her sweet smile more tempting than even the berries she offers. As it warms he sheds that skin more often, letting his legs stretch until he smells herbs on the wind and hears the first strains of her honeyed songs.

It’s inevitable that at some point, he forgets.

*

The dawn breaks warm that morning; the first tease of true spring before the spirits unfurl their sleeping tendrils and wake in truth. At least, so the volva say; Obi’s never seen a lick of them as long as he’s lived. Blind, they called him, but if it’s the price he pays to walk comfortably among the townsfolk each winter, he’ll pay it gladly.

There’s a tree at the edge of the vixen’s glade, an old birch so piebald it’s half shadow itself, its spiny little leaves coming in strong with the first hint of winter’s breaking. They don’t grow like this near the menfolk— there it’s straight little stands of bone-white trunks, but here, it’s a gnarled, knotted mess of a grandmother, so thick and bent from reaching out toward the light the glade promises that a body could get lost trying to find their way through its branches.

He sprawls his across one so thick it could be its own tree, legs dangling as wild as tangled ivy. Dappled in the sun’s light, it’s a cozy enough spot to let his blood warm up to the promise of the day. His head tips back, eyes fluttering closed, and ah, if he lets his mind drift enough, he can fool himself into thinking the volva are shuffling after him still, looking for that lazy boy, more scent than sense—

“The kit is placed in her cradle, sometimes crying, sometimes laughing.” Breath tumbles out of him in a snort, rousing him in shorter order than the vixen’s song, so close each word comes as a caress instead of a whisper on the wind. “Her mother cares for her, trouble, trouble, trouble.”

Already he reaches for his smaller body, eager to put fur over flesh and scamper into cover, but—

“Sleep now, sleep now” —copper flickers over bush tops, like a bullfinch buzzing over the brush— “in the arms of the mother tree, keep watch, o spirits, and hold this kit safe.”

For as many times as he has seen her, it’s always been with a little one’s eyes, limited to the muted grays and dunny browns they can create. Enough to get the idea of most wilders on whom he’s let his gaze linger, but this vixen— her hair alone is red and gold together, an autumn forest ablaze and yet tame beneath her hands. And when she lets her eyes skim over the brushline, looking for him…

Green. The same as the leaves that flutter between them, hiding him from sight. He hunkers down, belly to branch, and bides his time.

*

The vixen lingers longer as the weather warms, shedding her heavy cloak before she settles in to work, spreading it beneath her knees. There’s more for her to do now; with the snow near half melted, more greens unfurl between her visits, and the thin stopgap of winter berries turning into a bounty of sweet spring fruit. She sorts them as she works, each kind going into their own cloth before she rolls them up and tucks them into her basket, humming with satisfaction.

Most days he keeps her company as a little one; it delights her to coax him out step by step, creeping closer and closer to sharing sunlight. But more and more often, he lingers, watching her with wilder eyes as she goes about her business. Wonders, sometimes, if her pelt is just as bright as her hair when she trots about in her smaller form, if the gold would shine the way it does in the morning sun.

When she settles herself today— I shall give to my sister my seven gold rings, all under the linden so green— it’s with two baskets, one set in front and the other just behind. No difference between them that Obi can see, no reason one berry goes in one and not the either, just one plump little fruit, one after the other. Each one leaves juice smeared across her fingertips, so ripe his mouth salivates just thinking of how they’ll taste on his tongue, of how they’ll burst beneath his teeth.

“You know,” she calls out, her mouth hooked in the wryest of her smiles. “It’s polite to announce yourself if you’re going to linger in a vixen's territory. Especially a dog like yourself.”

Obi blinks between his branches, glancing from left to right, but there’s no dog for her to be talking to, not unless—

He glances down, right to where she stands, staring square at him through the branches. “You might introduce yourself at least. Now that I know you haven’t gone wild.”

His arms fold and his chin tilts, the way that makes most dogs shy from his company, let alone the wiser vixens. “I’m not the sort a vixen like you would want to know.”

Her jaw sets, even as that smiles pulls sweeter. “I think that’s up to me, isn’t it?”

Obi has to admit, she has a point there.

“This is my territory you’ve been lingering in, after all.” Her shrug is a soft bounce of her shoulders, but her scent presses heavily around him. Her territory. Unmated female she may be, but he is an unmated male, living on her sufferance. “I should know who I have the pleasure of sharing my patch with.”

“No point,” he sniffs, tilting his chin higher. “I’m just passing through.”

“For three weeks?” Her mouth twitches, not from fear. “I think that’s a little more than passing through.”

Ah, he hadn’t realized she’d be counting. “Just until there’s forage elsewhere.”

By the cock of her hip, he knows his excuse is as thin as tissue, ready to be torn under her able paws. “A name might be nice. I can’t just call you vagrant this whole time.”

“I have lots of names.” One for each year he’s wintered over among the menfolk. But they’ve always slipped off him like his fur does his skin, never sticking the whole season. Eirik had been the one he gave Goody, a smile on his lips, but she shook her head the way the menfolk always do, as if they already knew it doesn’t fit. “Which one do you want?”

The smile he gives her is all teeth, but she doesn’t flinch like she’s supposed to. No, she just furrows that brow at him, concerned. “The one you want to give me.”

His shoulder burns even beneath his hand. “I already said I wouldn’t be around long.”

“Fine, Vagrant it is then,” the vixen sighs, tucking her plants against her waist, tying them to the space under her belt. “I hope you have a nice day, Vagrant.”

It’s not until she’s gone that he realizes she left one of her baskets behind, but when he goes to call out—

Well, it seems he never got a name either.

[crystallllines]

my god churro is the lone woman performing amid a bunch of men saturday night

what a brave girl! ugh i’m so proud of her and also fuckin terrified that i’ll hate the set. it’s supposed to be edgy humor, so i’ll just brace myself to expect what i hear from josh on the regular, i guess. but churro also said she was doing a couple jokes about our grandfather (the bad one), and frankly THAT makes me worried about how i’ll respond to someone making jokes about… about what? what he did? the trial? my god, charity was just a little baby when all of that happened.

i want tomorrow night to be about her, though, not about how i feel about someone making light of an ordeal that tore our family apart and hurt so many people i love— including churro— you know? so, like, while i was definitely encouraged to only ever look upon that issue with the utmost seriousness (you have to be serious if you’re testifying in a criminal trial, uh, helloooo), i will do my best to have a sense of humor about it

[smallmightsfantastictwink]

Like father like son

[bioswear]

Idk hot take for a Saturday morning, but maybe people shouldn’t be SO quick to switch to a mentality of: “well I’m not voting at all” about American politics in regards to the Israeli/Palestinian conflict/genocide just bc America has had its dick in those affairs LONG BEFORE fucking Biden Presidecy and people are seemingly just NOW feeling publically vocally outraged about it bc it’s in the forefront news (as you should be), but maybe also let’s use our fucking brains for a moment if you are American:

we should, and can easily, also still focus on that which is in our own backyard, if you don’t vote fucking blue, because green/third parties are not actually viable in the deeply established two party system we have had for CENTURIES, we get fucking DeSantis or some other horrible Fascist Republican and then America is going to have its own genocide against LGBTQ+ people, fascism goes up, continued attacks against drag/immigrants/etc.

You also know damn well that any Republican, If one were president, would be doing the same fucking thing of providing aid to Israel, so I guess personally I’m just confused as to why everyone is surprised biden is doing the same.

You can and should support a free Palestine, and hold contempt for Israel and condemn their actions, AND also know that voting blue is Americas literal only chancE RIGHT CURRENTLY NOW this upcoming year, to remain somewhat of a democracy instead of a ChristoFascist regime, especially with Biden being one of the ONLY blue candidates like… our hands are TIED

Like YEAH it’s gonna fucking suck to vote for Biden but like you also gotta fucking Buck up sometimes and do things you don’t particularly WANT to do. It’s called duality and compromising in life and sometimes it’s fucking unavoidable.

But idk what the fuck do I know 🤪 I’m just a girl who thinks maybe you shouldn’t just fucking give up one of your only recognized rights in America just because some actions you can’t control from a crusty old moderate blue white man in a country whose affairs are more complicated than your messiest situationship is upsetting (rightfully so, I might add) you

[orcelito]

No one likes my posable black spider that I have hanging off the rungs under my bed :(

I named her Periwinkle <3

[aka-thesheepgirl]

Hi, how have you been?

So I stopped using Tumblr because I was feeling very overwhelmed by personal life and my own dumb brain making all sort of chemicals (none of which were beneficial!), but here I am! WHY?! BECAUSE I'VE BEEN

OBSESSED

With an variety of different interests and hyperfixations that I NEED TO EXPRESS WITHOUT FILTER-

Like seriously, I've been using Instagram ever since because I wanted to make cute art and maybe get a nice portfolio going on but I want to draw CRINGE!! I want to BE CRINGE!!

But that's about it, because I don't want to talk about the time I was out. I mean it was a nice reset from Tumblr but from life?? I NEED REST FROM LIFE RIGHT NOW-

[aemondtargaryenonlyfans]

DRAGON DREAMS.

Aemond Targaryen x wife!Reader

Monthly nightmares have already plagued you way before your wedding, even though your grandfather has always addressed them as dragon dreams rather than nightmares. But you and your husband both know you’re not gifted with such abilities.

WARNINGS: canon typical incest/targcest (uncle/niece), nightmares, slight angst, fluff

WORDS: 625

NOTES: this was requested by @marthawrites. Hope you still like it! 💕

It’s impossible for you to run.

Your feet are firmly planted on the ground, not moving regardless of you tugging and pulling at them to lift them and escape the brown dragon in front of you. Even your voice catches in your throat, unable to scream when the large mouth of Sheepstealer snaps towards you, the sharp teeth appearing even more intimidating with the light of the moon reflecting from them.

You stir awake, beads of sweat forming along your hairline and in the valley between your breasts. A hand on your mouth is meant to stifle your screams and sobs, not wanting to wake up your husband. Your breathing is heavy, and it takes you a few moments to adjust to the darkness of your chambers as you prop yourself up on your elbows.

Still half asleep, Aemond rolls onto his side and snakes his arm around your waist to pull you into his embrace, your head resting against his chest as his nose nuzzles into your hair.

“Bad dream?” It’s more a statement than a question, because your husband knows the answer. Monthly nightmares have already plagued you way before your wedding, even though your grandfather has always addressed them as dragon dreams rather than nightmares.

But you and Aemond know you’re not gifted with such abilities, it’s just that your mind has a lot to process with the rising tension between both sides of your family.

His presence always works wonders, the warmth radiating off his body and his scent slowing your panicked breathing and the turmoil inside of your mind, allowing you to melt into him.

While Aemond’s hand cups the back of your neck, his fingers apply just a bit of pressure to your stiff muscles in order to release the pent up tension, and you find yourself being able to speak again.

“I—It‘s…,” you stammer, your breathing still causing you to stutter through a sentence. “Sheep…Sheepstealer,” you sigh, “he… he...”

A gentle nod reassures you to continue as you crane your neck to look up at him.

“We wanted to fly to Dragonstone,” you sniff, panic settling in your bones again at just remembering what has happened. “Vhagar was already high up in the sky, when… and when I wanted to mount him, h… he…”

Aemond brings his hand to the back of your head and holds you against his body to calm you down. “He ate you?” he finishes the sentence for you, and you just nod hurriedly, mumbling a ‘yes‘ against his chest.

Most people, including your parents, perceive Aemond as cold and ignorant, and the gods know he can be like that. You have thought that too for the longest time, or rather from the moment he has lost his eye to the moment your courtship has been made official, but you have learned to see the genuine intent behind the things he does, hear the subtle changes in his voice, and suddenly he was just as attentive as any other man around, if not even a bit more.

Aemond kisses the crown of your head before speaking, “Your bond is strong, my love, and you know he would never do that.” And he is right. Even before you’ve bonded with Sheepstealer, the dragon never showed any ill-will toward you. He always was curious, despite the many failed attempts of claiming him other people had tried before.

“Avy jorrāelan,” you mumble. I love you.

“Avy jorrāelan,” comes the reply.

That Aemond’s grip doesn’t loosen around you makes it easier to find sleep again, and while your soft snores already fill his ears, he nuzzles his nose into your hair to take in your scent, thinking about a way to put this misery to an end.

Aemond taglist: @persephonerinyes @dr-aegon @schniiipsel @thekinslayed @baizzhu @legitalicat @eponaartemisa @peachysunrize @blackswxnn @odairtrqsh @mfedits

[lovelybee666]

SMILING CRITTERS X SHEEP READER

DOGDAY

• He loves how soft you are, when you're lying down he sometimes puts his face in your fur.

• He thinks you are very adorable and likes to touch your ears.

• He likes to call you "little sheep"

CATNAP

• When he is alone with you he likes to knead your wool, he usually doesn't do it in public as he is especially embarrassed by Dogday, Kickin and Bobby.

• Sometimes he sleeps on top of you (if you are smaller than him, you will have to hold on because he won't stop insisting until he is lying on top of you)

✨ B O N U S ✨

"Catnap, please...get off..you weigh...too much....😫"

*Ignoring you completely while purring😽*

KICKINCHIKEN

• He doesn't admit it but he really likes your wool, there is something about that he thinks is very cute.

• He finds it funny when you make sheep sounds and sometimes he imitates you or makes fun of you a little.

• When he is sad he likes to put his head in your wool

BOBBY BEARHUG

• Hugs you 24/7

• she loves how soft you are and she likes to play with your wool

• If she hears the slightest sheep sound coming out of your mouth, she looks at you for a few seconds with adoration.

HOPPY HOPSCOTCH

• she thinks you are very adorable, sometimes she touches your ears

• Sometimes she imagine yourself without wool and you are looking at her confused while she laughs.

• For Christmas, she decorates you like a Christmas tree (and yes, she put a star on top of you).

CRAFTYCORN

• she likes to paint your wool for some reason (with non-permanent paint)

• she likes to rest her head on your wool when she is tired.

• For Valentine's Day she wraps your wool with red ribbon (NOT IN A WEIRD WAY👺 I KNOW ENOUGH THE PEOPLE FROM THE INTERNET)

PICKYPIGGY

• she doesn't care much, as long as she eats😽

• She likes to snuggle into your wool while she eats.

• Very indifferent about it.

BUBBA BUBAPHANT

• Just like Pickypiggy, he doesn't care much.

• When it's summer he forces you to cut your wool.

• Kickin and Hoppy are in the background dying of laughter and Bubba tells them not to laugh while you are sitting in the background like "why do I still exist..." without your wool.

I couldn't think of much to be honest, there aren't many changes no matter what animal you are😿 I MEAN, YES THERE ARE BUT NOT THAT MANY TO MAKE THIS MORE LONG.

[sky-scribbles]

When I think about Gale and Mystra, I'm reminded of the Greek myth of the moon goddess who fell in love with a shepherd and asked Zeus to place him in an enchanted sleep, so that he would never change. So he would be beautiful and hers forever.

There are different versions of the myth, but this is the one I knew as a kid - and it always made me so fucking sad. And now I see why, because Selene loves Endymion - and her love takes his life from him. A god could not love Endymion as a mortal loves a mortal; she wants his presence to gaze on, to soak in, his body to hold. Perhaps he's a balm to her immortal existence; perhaps his beauty is an inspiration to her - but she does not want him, not all of him, not really. She doesn't want his sheep flock, the evenings where his fingers burn from the cold. She doesn't want his voice, or the lines and experience he'll gather as he ages. She doesn't want to live a life alongisde his.

Selene would say she loves Endymion, and perhaps, yes, Mystra would say she loved Gale. But how can a god love a mortal in a way that a mortal can recognise as love? You soak up his company, you laugh with him, you value his mind and his talent and his deftness with words. His presence is a spot of bright difference in your endless existence. But will you change with him? Will you be vulnerable with him? Will you look him in the eye, as an equal? Will you stroke his cat and put a blanket over his shoulder when he falls asleep reading, make soup for him when he's sick? Would you love him as a person, not a treasure? You can't.

Gale wanted to be loved with a devotion to match his own. Mystra wanted him to live in the enchanted sleep of being hers, something to smile at and hold but never, never to live beside. And she knew - she must have known - how unequal their desires were. She kept him anyway, until she didn't. Until he woke up.

A god's love ruins mortals.

[zephyrchama]

Writing prompt: If MC had been a sheep since they came to the Devildom and then suddenly became human again, would the brothers recognize them? (Under the cut, all 7 brothers, SFW, written in second person.)

Others might have written about this before, it's a fun concept. In the beginning of the manga it's explained that MC appears to be a sheep for reasons. I like to think that they gradually change back and their sheep characteristics slowly become more human, while maintaining sheep-like qualities for a while, but it's more fun to write about if they just. suddenly. change back all at once, ta-da.

Humans sometimes face adverse effects when traversing realms. The unnatural spatial movement has equally unnatural consequences for human bodies, which is why you found yourself in the body of a small pink sheep when meeting the brothers for the first time.

Solomon and Diavolo say it will wear off in time, as you adjust to the Devildom. Your body will return to normal eventually, but they don’t know exactly how long. Its been quite some time now and everyone just accepts that this is how things are. You are a small pink sheep, and you are family.

You expected a gradual transformation - to slowly regain human features over time as you got used to life in the Devildom. That didn’t happen. Day by day nothing changed, until the transformation happened all at once.

Lucifer

Lucifer had seen your photo on the exchange student paperwork months ago. A generic little square image stapled to the application, hardly better than a driver’s license photo. He might have taken your paperwork out of the student council room and put it in his private office desk for safekeeping, or to look from time to time to remind himself you really were human.

He was the first one you thought to tell. A big change like this was surely worth a visit to his room, even if he was busy. You knocked your usual knock. Now that you were human-sized, you could reach the middle of the door, but the lack of hooves meant your knock was quieter. There were several seconds of silence. Maybe he didn’t hear you. You went to knock again, but a familiar gruff voice called out “come in,” from the other side so you reached for the handle.

There were piles of record book and stacks of forms upon the desk, but the eldest brother was still visible from the doorway. As if sensing something was different, he paused mid-writing and looked up. Lucifer was taken aback for a moment but quickly regained his usual composed poker face. You tried to hide a smile. Seeing him surprised like that was a rare occasion.

“I see you’ve finally gotten used to it here. Congratulations.” Maybe it was the soft light inside the House of Lamentation, but Lucifer thought you looked far better in person than in that photo. He put down his pen and crossed his hands under his chin. It almost masked the way he leaned slightly forward to get a better look at you over the large desk. “Do you feel alright?”

You nodded, it was strange to adjust to your old height again but you were glad to be back in your body. “You’re sure you feel fine? Come here,” he commanded.

Sitting next to him as a sheep while he worked had become so natural, yet doing so now as a human made you feel so self conscious. Your eyes wandered around the room, avoiding his gaze until he grabbed your shoulder and said “look at me.”

To you, he was just being overprotective. A routine check up on the exchange student to make sure they’re healthy after a sudden transformation. Maybe being close enough to feel his breath each time he exhaled was also necessary. To Lucifer, it was the time he’d been waiting months for. To see your glossy hair, not just a ball of wool, and study the contours of your face. How smooth your cheeks were and the way you politely kept up an embarrassed smile. Yes, the real deal was much nicer than a photograph.

Mammon

Mammon had no idea who you were, at first. You were sitting on the couch, wasting time while waiting for the next family meal. The front door slammed open loudly and closed with a bang. Mammon finally strolled into the living room after a long evening of make-up lessons at school.

“When’s dinner ready? I’m starvin’!” His boisterous voice made the house a little livelier. “And hey, where’s--”

He stammered when his eyes met yours and his voice faltered back down to a normal indoor volume. “Didn’ know we had someone vistin’. Hmph.”

Your jaw dropped. Was he really this dense? He couldn’t recognize you despite all the time you spend together? You turned around to watch over the back of the couch as Mammon walked to the dining room, then left to go down the hallway that led to your room. Several moments later he was in the kitchen. You could hear voices, but not what was said.

After some time he came meandering back to the living room. With one hand on his hip, he remained standing and leaned against the other couch. He was agitated and impatient, and with no one else around he turned to you.

It must have been five seconds, max, but it felt like you stared at each other for an hour. You pouted, glaring at the idiot who thought you seemed like an oddly familiar and comforting presence. “Who’re ya here to see? If it’s The Great Mammon, I’m a busy guy. I can’t just stand around. WIthout compensation, I’m leavin’.”

“Mammon,” you said. Just one word. You sounded hurt. It made his heart skip a beat, he’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Huh? What’d you say?” He heard you loud and clear. He just wanted you to speak again, to hear your voice once more and confirm he wasn’t imagining things.

Of all the ways you imagined showing off your human body to him, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Maybe you were wrong for expecting him to recognize you no matter what, but just like him you would never admit that.

“Oh my gosh, you’re a fool! Here’s your ‘compensation!’” Swiftly, you launched a decorative cushion square at his stomach. Your strike is nothing to him, but you landed an emotional blow when you went to storm off.

He grabbed your wrist before you got out of arm’s reach. Forcefully at first, but quickly realized he had to loosen up to avoid hurting you. “Wh- huh? Is that you? Why didn’t you say anything!? When did this happen?”

Walking away was futile as Mammon was rooted to the spot. “That’s really you, right? This ain’t a joke?”

He pulled you in towards him and spun you around to look at your face. You were mad and upset and relieved that he stopped you and embarrassed at having so many emotions at once. He finally knew, you're his human, alright.

Leviathan

It took a while for things to click for Leviathan.

He first saw you from afar on campus. He wanted to steer clear from you., like with every other student. Though he did do a double-take and stare.

He’d never seen you (well, proper human you) around before, and you looked just like the customizable characters you always created in his games. Same hair style, same eyes, same sense of style. His P2 was real. It was uncanny and he couldn’t wait to tell you all about seeing your player character wandering around campus.

That’s when he realized he hadn’t seen you all day. The sheep you. You were always easy to find due to being bogarted by his flashy brothers. You were one of the few to casually greet him every day as assurance he was welcome at RAD. You were human, and humans weren’t sheep. Didn’t Lucifer say something about that when you first arrived? Oh.

When Leviathan didn’t show up to classes after lunch you went looking for him. It was a tough quest. He wasn’t in any of the usual hiding places and wasn’t answering his DDD. He really didn’t want to see you. Or, well, he really did, but clearly wasn’t prepared to. You finally found him on a bench, shrouded by overgrown tree branches and isolated far on the outskirts of RAD’s campus.

Low muttering gave away his hiding space, unintelligible as he was biting down hard on his thumbnail while he raved. His hair was a tousled mess and from time to time he’d jump up to flail or shake his head.

“Lev-”

You tried to greet him and got met with a glorious, high-pitched shriek. You pushed on anyway.

“Levi! I’ve been looking for you. Notice anything different today?”

“You! Y-y-y-youuu!!” He could not look you in the eye, or look at you at all, but your familiar voice made everything clear. It took some time for him to speak again.

”You sat in my bed! You sat in my lap!” He referenced all the times you’d stay up late gaming with him. He never objected to that before. “You! You did all that! How could you?”


”I… thought we were friends?”
”Well I didn’t know you looked like that!”

All the wholesome memories Levi had of you two bonding, demon and sheep, suddenly changed. No longer were you a cute fuzzball sitting on his legs or snug against him like a plush while he slept. You were a cute human, with human features, sitting between his legs and being held against him in bed. Overnight you went from essentially a security plush to a real person, and he was having trouble adjusting.

“You lied to me! Aagh!” He kicked his legs and pulled at his hair in anxious frustration, his thoughts branching in dozens of conflicting paths at once, so you did the only thing you knew to calm him. A big hug.

He froze right up. You stubbornly told him “I’m still me, you know.”

“But you look…” For the first time he tried looking right at you, but all you noticed was the intense blush across his face. It made you smile.

Satan

Great Detective Satan picked up on your change quickly. It wasn’t hard to deduce for anyone who paid close attention to mysteries, like he did.

You hadn’t asked for any help that morning reaching for things high up. You didn’t ask anyone to carry your heavy school books. Most obviously, you were sitting in the dining room enjoying a hearty piece of toast when he also sat down to eat breakfast. Even though he didn’t physically recognize you, who else would be fearlessly sitting at the House of Lamentation’s breakfast table and happily greeting the Avatar of Wrath?

Rather than the scrambled eggs, Satan was most interested in you. He didn’t hide the way he stared. “You look different.” Slowly, eyes never wavering, he took the chair beside you.

”Oh yeah! Check it out, I changed back!” You went to stand up and show off, but first needed to wipe the crumbs off your face. Too bad the napkin just slid off your lap and onto the floor. “Ah, hold on, I’ll show you in a sec. It’ll be worth it.” You didn’t want to look sloppy on your first day as a human again, and although hands were easier to eat with than hooves, you had prioritized munching on delicious breakfast food over eating cleanly. Without another clean napkin in arm’s reach, you went to pick up what had fallen.

“Allow me.” Napkin unfolded, Satan leaned in close. Before you could acknowledge his offer he had a hand wrapped around your chin. The heat of his fingers could be felt on your lips through the cloth. He spent an unnecessarily long time tracing the contours around your mouth. A cleaning this thorough would surely ward crumbs off your face for at least a week.

A full minute later, Satan was satisfied and leaned back in his own chair. He didn’t stop staring though. You gave a heartfelt, “thanks! Now let me show you,” and stood up to twirl.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus recognized you right away. He was the only one not taken aback, and was thrilled to see you returned to full glory. “You look just like your socials!”

Not one to miss out on trends, Asmodeus had signed up for a few human realm social media sites. He considered it to be the cultural exchange aspect of your exchange program. On particularly slow evenings he’d even scroll through several years of your image posts and save the cutest ones. Asmodeus was very well acquainted with both your human and sheep looks.

“Do you have anything to wear other than your uniform? We really should trim your hair, too. That didn’t stop growing while you were a sheep, huh?” He was immediately all over you, twirling your hair in his long fingers while circling like a predator locked on to its prey.

“Oh really?” You hadn’t noticed your hair being overly long. You were just happy to be back to normal. “Yeah I’ve got plenty of clothes, but my hair? Are there, like, demon barbers around here? Can you help?”

“Leave it to me! And your nails!” His hand found yours and soon your fingers were entwined. He lifted them up, cheerily exclaiming “how about matching with me?” as he pulled you towards his room. It was hard to keep up with him, but at least you stood a chance now unlike before in that small body. He noticed, and with a cheeky grin turned to ask “you're not still having trouble? I’ll carry you, you know. And when you need another trim, you come to me first.”

Beelzebub

Beelzebub lucked out. He came into the dining hall for the most important meal of the day, just in time to see you twirl for Satan, proclaiming “I’m back!”

Your voice was the same, and you smelled the same as ever. He let out an astonished “woah” while taking the seat across from you. This new form was much better than the sheep one. His fears of accidentally hurting you with too much strength somewhat abated. Though, in his eyes you were still tiny.

“Morning!” you greeted. “Notice anything new?”
”Boy, do I.” Through a mouthful of food, he asked “how did this happen?”


“Dunno, it must have happened overnight. I just woke up and bam.” You flashed a pair of finger guns at Beel and he laughed.

After breakfast, you two became alone in the dining room. You piled up the dirty dishes and Beelzebub carried them into the kitchen as you followed behind, saying “we better hurry, I didn’t realize it was this late already.”

“Yeah.” He placed everything in the sink, then turned to face you. He held out his arms. “Ready to go?”

Carrying you to school appears to have become a habit. Beel didn’t even hesitate to gently lift you up like you were weightless. It was an everyday occurrence when you were a sheep. But back in your old body with longer legs, having his arm wrap around your waist without a layer of thick wool to cushion you, things felt different. “Y’know, I might be able to walk to school today.”

“Hm?” Beelzebub took a moment to process this. Like he had completely forgotten you got your body back in that short span of time. “Oh! Sorry. Force of habit.” Almost dejectedly, he crouched to set you back on the ground. You reached around to grab his shoulders anyway.

“Well, I never said you had to let go.”

Belphegor

Belphegor thought he was still sleeping. Your human figure was a familiar sight he had seen multiple times. It was how you manifested in your dreams, after all. Sometimes when you napped together he would pick up glimpses of your dreams. On this day he had made it to RAD with time to spare and was dozing off in his seat when you arrived.

Unreservedly, he dragged himself several feet over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, head on your shoulder right next to your ear. “Hey.” This was a dream anyway, might as well enjoy it.

“Belphie, are you still asleep?” you asked. Physical contact wasn’t so bad, but it got embarrassing in public like this. With a futile shake you tried to rouse him. “Look! Did you notice? I’m not a sheep anymore!”

“Mm, yeah. You’re you.” Avoiding the lights, he buried his eyes in your neck, wishing it was a little darker. He liked you like this. But if this was a dream, why did the light bother him? Why was he still so tired? “Is it… Hm? What time is it?”

“Time for class to start soon. If you fall asleep again Lucifer is gonna kick your butt. Wake up.” You roughly ruffled his hair, causing him to groan and cling to your waist tighter. It did succeed in getting him to raise his head, at least.

After a sleepy pause, Belphegor seemed to grasp his surroundings. He squinted and leaned back, sizing you up. You couldn't tell if he was waking up or preparing to slouch down again until he spoke. “You really changed back? For real?”

“Yep!”

“Heh, good for you.” He pat your sides and let go. It tickled a little. Now, while you were distracted, was his turn to ruffle your hair. Payback disguised as playful praise.

[neil-gaiman]

Hi, Neil! You've mentioned that Brian May was initially reluctant to give you permission to use Queen's music in the miniseries (because of competition with the Bohemian Rhapsody film, I think?) but I don't remember you ever telling us why he finally relented. Unless it involves a secret phrase not unlike why the sheep finally obeyed Babe the pig, how did you get him to change his mind?

He wouldn't let us use Queen when we did the BBC Radio 4 adaptation. He was concerned that people might think that Queen was being made fun of, or that Queen was being seen as something old-fashioned or something. For Good Omens the TV show I wrote him a letter, which said...

Dear Brian

Terry Pratchett and I had a private joke, back in the 80s, that any cassette in your car would eventually turn into Queen's Greatest Hits. We put the joke into our cowritten novel GOOD OMENS, and wove a certain amount of Queen magic through the book. Done because, pretty obviously, we love Queen. The book went on to sell enormous numbers over the years, and whenever two Good Omens fans got together, they would talk about Queen.

I know that when Dirk Maggs approached you when he did the Radio 4 adaptation of GOOD OMENS, you were wary about getting involved, due to concerns about, well cassettes, and the possibility of it positioning Queen in people's minds as something old fashioned or silly.

Which, I thought, when Dirk told me about it, was fair enough.

I've now spent the better part of the last four years writing scripts for, and shooting, a TV adaptation of GOOD OMENS. It stars Michael Sheen, David Tennant, Miranda Richardson, Adria Arjana, Michael McKean, Derek Jacobi, Jon Hamm, Nick Offerman, and lots of other amazing people, and it will be narrated by Frances McDormand. It is directed by Emmy-award-winning Douglas Mackinnon. 

Douglas loves Queen. I love Queen. David Arnold loves Queen.

And the millions upon millions of Good Omens fans around the world love Queen too. So we have put various moments in there just for them (including a brass band playing "Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon"). We want Queen music to comment on the action.

The show will come out from Amazon, and then from the BBC, next year. This year we are in post-production.

We'd love to show you some of what we've got. We'd love to pick your brains and to get your take on what we're doing. To find out if there's a way we can include you, or just brief you on what we've planned so far.

And Brian cheerfully apologised for having said no before, and said yes.

(Queen didn't want us to use the song Bohemian Rhapsody initially, because of concerns about the movie, but after a while they were happy even with that.)