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freudensteins-monster · 5 years

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His Heart’s Desire (the beginnings of a Good Omens/Stardust crossover)

WARNING: This is unfinished and will probably remain unfinished. It was only meant to be a short crossover synopsis like always but it got away from me, then it made me fight for every last word for about a week until I could get it to the point where I felt I could leave it.

The idea popped into my head while scrolling through Ao3 and seeing the tag “angels used to be stars”.

Also posted on Ao3.

There was once a young man who wished to gain his Heart’s Desire.

And while that is, as beginnings go, not entirely novel (for every tale about every young man there ever was or will be could start in a similar manner) there was much about this young man and what happened to him that was unusual, although even he never knew the whole of it. - Stardust, Neil Gaiman

Ezra Fell, for all the gentlemanly qualities he possessed, had always been treated as something of an outcast by the townsfolk of Tadfield. For all he was kind, and well-read, and taught the children of the village their letters with such patience and enthusiasm, they could never forget what he was: a foundling from beyond the ancient stone wall that marked the eastern border of the village, the ancient stone wall that protected them from all manner of strange and terrible creatures that surely dwelled in the forests beyond. Not that they ever mentioned it. No well-bred person spoke of such unbecoming things, but they always managed to say a lot without speaking when it came to Ezra Fell.

Their poor treatment of him had only gotten worse after the death of the local vicar, the only father figure Ezra had ever known, culminating in R.P. Tyler, his snobbish landlord, drastically increasing the rent on Ezra’s beloved childhood home-turned-library in an effort to force him out. Ezra had worried over the notice for the better part of the day before getting up the nerve to confront his landlord as he and his yappy little terror of a terrier made their way home from the only pub in the village. It was a personal attack Ezra had tried to argue as delicately as possible, tugging nervously at the hem of his brown hand-me-down waistcoat - after all he’d never raised the rent as much as a penny for as long as the old vicar had been alive. When that failed Ezra practically begged his landlord to consider some sort of arrangement which would allow Ezra to purchase his home from him. Tyler was never going to sell, and told Ezra as much, but then a flash of fiery golden light shot across the night sky catching their attention and a cruel thought began to take shape.

“The only way I’d sell to a man of your background, Mr Fell, is if you brought me back that fallen star,” he most assuredly did not slur.

“The star?”

“Aye. You present that star to me by weeks end and I’ll gladly hand over the keys to you. But if you don’t, and if you’re so much as a day late with your rent, I’ll toss you and that absurd collection of tinder you call a library into the gutter.”

An idea once planted is a hard thing to kill, and as R.P. Tyler stumbled home Ezra’s gaze turned eastwards, trying to recall the path of the fallen star and wondering just how deep into the forest beyond the wall it had landed.

Several minutes earlier in the kingdom of Etherium, many leagues beyond the wall, in the largest bedchamber in the highest tower of the Palace of Light a queen lay dying. She is surrounded by her remaining children. There had been eight of them once but one by one they had perished – accidents, she was told – until only four remained; Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon, and…

“Aziraphale?” she called, her eyes struggling with the dwindling light.

“No, mother. It’s Gabriel,” the youngest of her remaining children huffed impatiently. “Aziraphale died as a babe. Raphael lost him in the forest when his camp was attacked by bandits. Remember?”

“And poor Raphael took an arrow through his righteous heart,” Michael feigned a sigh.

“Such a shame,” Uriel added, herself an excellent shot with a bow.

“Little Aziraphale was claimed by wolves, one can only assume,” Sandalphon grinned.

The queen feels the loss of her other children keenly and laments that she must leave her throne to such ill-suited heirs. Unable to choose one over the other, for they are no good choices, she gathers the last of her strength and walks to the window, looking out over her kingdom for the final time. She pours the last of her light into the pendant that had hung about her neck; a translucent crystal on a gold chain. It glows brightly for but a moment then turns cold and opaque as the queen hurls it into the night sky. It seems to hit something at its apex before careening back to earth. Her children watch on curiously, wondering if the old girl had finally lost all her marbles. She turns to face them, her skin now ashen making her look every one of her considerable years, and addresses her children.

“Whoever of royal blood can return the Light to the palace shall claim the throne of Etherium.”

Her children step over her cold body, shoving each other out of the way to get a better look at the pendants final resting place. Sandalphon accidentally falls out the window in his eagerness, or so the official report will say, and his three remaining siblings do not so much as even glance at his mangled corpse at the foot of the tower as they take their leave of their ancestral home to hunt down the pendant.

Hidden in the darkest depths of the darkest forest, someone else sees the star fall, and to them a fallen star means far more than a home or a throne. To them, a being who was old when the foundation stones of the Palace of Light were still hot and gooey, a fallen star is a means to restore her and her siblings to health and vitality and power beyond imagining. She hobbles back inside to share the joyous news with her siblings.

“A star has fallen!”

Her voice echoes through their cavernous and cluttered home but she gets no reply. She rushes about the place with a sense of urgency and a hunger she hasn’t felt in centuries. She retrieves a prized metal box from its hiding place, clicking her tongue in irritation at the three sets of bindings - one red, one black, one white - and seeks out her siblings. She finds them slumped together on a fetid sofa in what could be assumed to be the sitting room.

“A star has fallen!” she almost weeps with happiness. “One of us must seek it out.”

Her siblings rouse then, slowly. Her brother is dark and frail, and every bit of exposed skin puts his bones on display. He smiles the sharp smile of a predator, his mouth already watering. Their sibling is pale and weak, every movement disturbing the thick layers of dust that have accumulated on their hair and clothes, and when they speak the air becomes more putrid.

“A star? It has been so long,” they sigh.

“So hungry,” their brother echoes.

She shoves the metal box onto their laps and presses their hands to the knots of their respective bindings. A small spark of magic from each of and the bindings undo themselves.

“I will bring it back for us,” she declares as she pulls the box back towards herself.

Her siblings are too tired to fight her for the right, and though relieved she despises them for their weakness; they once fought all out wars to decide petty arguments, but that was so long ago now. She reaches into the box, her fingers tingling as they wrap around a glimmering scrap of the last star they found. She drops it into her mouth and almost faints in sheer ecstasy. As the power courses through her she stumbles drunkenly about the room and until she spies the silhouette of a large gilded mirror. She rips away the cloth that covers it and promptly does the same with her brittle once-red wig and the rags that covered her thin frame. She watches her reflection in awe, never tiring of the transformation, finding it just as magical as it had been the last time over four hundred years before. Her skin becomes radiant and smooth, her hair regrows cascading down past her shoulders like rivers of blood, her body fills out and she feels strong again for the first time in an age.

She runs – runs! – to their shared bedroom and digs out her favourite outfit and armour, preserved with care at the bottom of a solid oak chest. She dresses with haste but savours the feel of the blood-tanned leather on her skin, the weight of the armour, the familiarity of the sword at her hip. Her siblings have found the energy to leave the sitting room and are waiting for her by the front door. Their eyes rove over her restored form with unabashed hunger and envy, and it’s almost as heady as the star’s light coursing through her veins.

“The star lies 1000 miles to the north,” her brother tells her, handing her a leather pouch of runes stones carved from the bones of his first kill. “You must make haste for others seek it out.”

“Bring it back so we may all be young again, sister,” their sibling begs her, handing over a blade of darkest obsidian.

She takes their gifts reverently and secures them to her person. “I will find the star and cut out its heart,” she swears. “And when we are all of us restored to our full power the world will know fear once more.”

When we return to the other side of the wall, where magic and murder are not so commonplace, we will find Ezra Fells rather impulsively packing for a journey that will surely be more perilous than taking a carriage to Ipswich, or even all the way to London. Both of which he’s done precisely once.

He was second guessing himself for the hundredth time in less than an hour when there was a sharp rapping at his front door. As he went to answer it he tried not to think about how it may not be his front door for much longer.

“Anathema, my dear. What are you doing here so late?” he asked of his one and only friend, ushering her inside.

Anathema Device was considered something of an outcast herself and would tell anyone who asked (not that they dared) that she was a witch. She lived on the outskirts of town in a small cottage that had been in her family for generations and her oddness was tolerated by the townsfolk more so than Ezra’s for this very fact: there had always been a witch in Jasmine Cottage. It was downright traditional, and as long as Anathema kept curing their ailments without gossiping about them to their neighbours, and brewing her grandmother’s particularly potent spiced cider at Christmas, the townsfolk let her be.

“It’s Agnes,” Anathema groused, as though that explained anything. The woman had been dead and buried fifteen years now. “She left me something in her will with strict instructions on when to deliver it to you.”

“That time is now, I take it?”

“Right…” Anathema paused until the grandfather clock in the sitting room struck 10. “Now.”

She pulled a small parcel wrapped in waxed paper from her pocket and passed it over to Ezra. He took it gingerly wondering what on earth could be so important that Agnes would put such a plan in place. She had always claimed to have been able to see the future and doled out predictions to any who would listen. Ezra had been respectful of her claims, even helping her get a book of her prophecies published, but had never truly believed her because for all the years Ezra had known her she had never once offered him advice on his own future. At least not until this night.

At Anathema’s urging he took a seat and began to unwrap the small parcel only to find a smaller parcel inside of it with letter in between the layers.

“It’s from Agnes,” Ezra remarked before reading her missive aloud.

Dear Mr Fell,

I must get right to the pointe, for time is of the essensse: it was I who first found thee as a babe, crying in the night by the broken section of the Wall. I Saw thou were in need and sought thee out. I Saw who would love thou best in this smallminded village and left thee on the doorstep of the church for deare Reverend Andrews to find.

In the basket with thee was the enclosed parcel. I Saw that thou would be in need of it this night after thou talk with that bunch-backed toad, Tyeler, and Anathema and I have kept it safe for thee alle these yeares.

And though I’m sure thou would rather I just tell thee what to do to keep thy home, truste me when I tell thee that it will alle work out in the end, and that halfe the joye is in the journey. Now, be a dear and put on the kettle before thou opens the next parcel. Thou won’t get to drink it but the routine should steady thy nerves.

Sincerelee,

Agnes Nutter, Witch.

P.S. You tell R P Tielerr from me that if he keeps harassing thou or that poor Young boy his precious apple trees will never fruit again! Theyr going to be struck downe with a fungus come Spring regardless, but it would be a great lark if he thought I was haunting him from beyond the grave.

“What did you talk to Tyler about?” Anathema asked after allowing Ezra a moment to digest the truths Agnes had laid out in her letter.

“Hmm?”

“R.P. Tyler. Agnes said you talked to him.”

“Oh, yes. He increased my rent – almost doubled it, in point of fact. I had been trying to reason with him, or perhaps strike a deal that would allow me to purchase my home from him.”

“Let me guess: he wasn’t interested.”

“No, he seems quite eager to see me destitute,” Ezra lamented. “But while we were talking we saw a shooting star land beyond the wall and he said that the only way he was going to sell to me was if I could bring him that star.”

“What rot,” Anathema spat. “Ezra, please don’t tell me you’re even entertaining such nonsense; he wasn’t being sincere.”

“Of that I had no doubt,” Ezra huffed. “But surely some man of science somewhere would have interest in a rock fallen from the heavens? I could sell it, and if I can’t buy my childhood home from Tyler perhaps I could buy another. Somewhere as far away as London, or even Paris. Some place where no one whispers about what I am.”

“What you are,” Anathema recited patiently, “is my friend. And I want to see you happy, I do, but not by putting your life at risk. No one travels beyond the wall outside Market Day. Not even Agnes.” She waited another moment for her words to sink in before gently prodding him. “Do you want me to stay, for when you open that one?”

Ezra broke himself out of his muddled thoughts to offer her a small smile. “I think I’d like a moment to myself, dear.”

“Of course. But I’ll be back first thing tomorrow with a warm loaf of bread to break our fast, and we can talk about that,” she said, gesturing at the unopened parcel. “And find you somewhere else to live that isn’t under R. P. Tyler’s thumb,” she added as though he didn’t play landlord to half the village.

Alone in his home-for-the-moment, Ezra read Agnes’ letter once more for good measure before following her instructions and putting on the kettle.

A few minutes later, with warm but still trembling hands, he unwrapped the second parcel. Inside was a solitary white candle peppered with gold flecks and another letter. From the moment his eyes caught the first sentence they began to tear up…

My dearest brother,

Leaving you here is the hardest thing I have ever had to do, and though you and mother may never forgive me for my actions, please believe me when I say it is for the best. It is not safe for you here. Every day our siblings jealously of your light and the attention mother gives you grows. They will do anything to gain her favour, even eliminate the competition, and I cannot hope to both protect myself and be there to stop every attempt made on your own cherished life.

I realise this cannot be easy to read but it is my greatest wish that my decision has allowed you to live a life free of pain and fear and the greed that has poisoned our siblings souls. I hope you have found a home and a family who loves you like you deserve, but selfishly it is my deepest wish that we may meet again once you are a man capable of defending yourself. To that end I have enclosed a gift.

The fastest way to travel is by candlelight. To use it, think of me and only me.

All my love,

Raphael

It took Ezra several moments to get past the realisation that he had a brother, and a mother, and an unknown number of fratricidal siblings, to acknowledge the gift mentioned. The candle must be magical in origin, he reasoned, and thus it would make sense to wait for Anathema’s return to study it further… but if it meant finding a way to return to his brother’s side – his brother! - who was no doubt beyond the wall that she would still be hesitant to let him take such a risk. He fidgeted with the candle while his tea grew cold, all the while turning words like “brother” and “mother” and “home” over in his mind.

How does it work, he wondered. The fastest way to travel is by candlelight, his brother’s letter had said, so Ezra had to assume that one had to light it, thus creating candle light, and… just think of his desired destination. Simple enough really, he mused, gathering up his half-packed leather satchel (a gift from the late vicar), adding some rations (half a block of cheese, the last of his bread, a few apples, and a canteen of water) just in case, and seeking out a match before he realised what he was doing.

He should probably leave a note for Anathema for she was sure to be cross with him in the morning when she found him gone. But perhaps, if the magic candle worked as he imagined it would, she need never know. Perhaps the candle would take him straight to his brother and perhaps there was enough magic within it to allow a return trip?

“Perhaps, perhaps…” Ezra muttered anxiously. He quickly found a pencil and wrote “Anathema – Back soon – Regards, Ezra” in his patently elegant script on the brown paper wrapping, then pulled the long strap of his satchel over his head, fussing with it until he was comfortable. With a deep breath he lit the match and took up the candle in his other hand. He counted to three and with a trembling hand brought the flame to the wick.

“Home,” he implored the universe.

A roar like a wildest thunderstorm assaulted his ears as the world rushed by in a dizzying blur and just when Ezra thought he might be sick it all stopped rather suddenly and Ezra found himself tumbling to the ground atop of some poor bystander.

“Oh! Oh, Raphael!” Ezra exclaimed, jumping to his shaky feet and reaching out to the man he assumed must be his brother. “I’m so… I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

“No, I’m not! And I’m not bloody Raphael, so get off me!” hissed the body on the ground.

“You’re… You’re not my brother?”

“Do I Iook Iike I’m your brother?”

Ezra properly took stock of the man he had crashed into. He was tall and lean and wore strange robes of midnight. He was fair of face, his naturally sharp features were verging on knifelike in his irritation, with long red hair that seemed to shine without a light source, like each strand possessed within itself a flickering flame, and his eyes were an unnatural shade of yellow that burned with the ruthlessness of a midsummer sun. Ezra with his stocky frame, mousy, untidy hair, and too snug second-hand suit could not imagine a man more his opposite.

“No. Sorry. I was mistaken.” Ezra glanced nervously around the strange clearing he found himself in and seeing no one else, let alone a possible long lost brother around, turned his attentions back to the man who had still not made an attempt to get up off the ground. “Well, are you all right? Do you want some help?”

“You can help by Ieaving me alone!” the man snapped, slapping away Ezra’s outstretched hands.

“Very well then,” Ezra bristled, leaving the strange man to his misery to focus on his own problems. "Light the candle and think of me,” he muttered staring down at the candle still in his hands that was now half its original length. “I was. I was thinking of Raphael… But then the star just popped into…” Ezra spun in a circle, his eyes growing wide with the realisation that he was not in a man-made clearing but an impact site. He turned back to the strange man. “Oh, excuse me, sir. Sorry to bother you again. This may seem strange, but have you seen a fallen star anywhere?”

“You’re funny,” the man huffed, though his glare said Ezra was anything but.

“No, really, we’re in a crater,” Ezra pressed on. “This must be where it fell.”

“Yeah, this is where it fell. Or if you want to be really specific,” the man drawled, jabbing a finger towards the night sky. “Up there is where this weird bloody necklace came out of nowhere and knocked it out of the heavens when it was minding its own business. And over there is where it Ianded,” he said, pointing towards the deepest part of the impact site. “And right here,” he growled, pointing to the ground on which he sat. “This is where it got hit by a magical flying moron!”

Ezra faltered as his brain was forced to make several adjustments rather quickly about its understanding of the universe.

“You’re the star! You’re the star? Really?” Ezra babbled, the colour draining from his face as this new reality came crashing down around him.

The star was human, or at least human shaped, and he could not sell off said star to secure his childhood home (though he was not naïve enough to think there weren’t men who would desire to buy such a creature).

The candle had not taken him to his brother, though he had initially wished it. Perhaps stray thoughts of the star had derailed the candles route, or perhaps his brother was no longer living and it was not possible for the candle to take Ezra to his side. What proof did he have either way?

And the candle only had one journey left in it – how best to use it? Should he return to Tadfield and his uncertain future, or try to go to his brother again, which was filled nothing but uncertainties, or did Ezra do what the voice in his head that sounded a great deal like the vicar said and offer the candle to the star so he could return to his home in the sky?

Ezra patted his coat pockets in an increasingly erratic pattern before sinking to the ground opposite the star. In the end it wouldn’t really matter which he chose because he had forgotten to pack a second bloody match to light the damn thing with.

“Oh, fuck.”

#his heart's desire #good omens/stardust crossover idea #ineffable fic ideas #aziraphale and crowley #aziraphale/crowley #aziraphale is tristan #crowley is yvaine #the angel's are aziraphale's siblings #the horsemen excluding death are the witches #aziraphale #crowley #good omens #stardust #freudensteins-fics #fic ideas i'll never finish

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goodomenscontentdump · 5 years

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Coraline crossover idea

- American Gods, Anansi Boys, Stardust (Neil Gaiman)

Imagine, Coraline growing up, keeping the incident with the Beldam in mind. The incident haunts her, and thus she grows more cautious, always on the lookout for any sign that the Beldam might come back. She grows to detest rats with a fiery passion, and keeps the cat close at hand. The cat shows no opinion on this, but continues to tag along. Eventually, to calm the child’s worries, he begins to give her tips in order to feel safer.

Planting marigolds in the garden, somewhere in between the tulips, the radishes, and the bleeding hearts. Primroses and daisies in vases at the center of the dinner table. A saucer of milk on the windowsill for the cat to lap up at night. A pouch of clovers around her neck while exploring. Instructions not to correct a person if they pronounce her name wrong (she is indignant at first, but names hold power, and to give her name to a stranger was dangerous. “Is that why you never tell me you name?” she would ask, but the cat does not reply).

Overall however, Coraline wasn’t quite fond of gimmicks, not unless they served a purpose. So she would be sure to pester the cat as often as possible, on why it was important to sprinkle a bit of salt on her bedroom window each night, why one must be careful when brandishing iron things at people, why to leave out some bread crisps on particularly strange nights. Why, why, why?

And so the cat tells her. He tells her about the Fae and the world beyond the mushroom rings, of the piskies and leprechauns and spirits who haunt the bows and orchards. He tells her of the secret world of magic, and how dangerous and tricky the Fae could be. He tells her all this, and soon exhausts her questions.

Except one.

“If the Beldam was a Fae, and if you’re a Fae*, then does that mean that there might be more of you?”

*An assumption on her part, but entirely true. The cat was actually what one would recognize as Cait Sith, a shapeshifter who took the form of a large black cat with a white spot on its chest.

The cat nods, because that was the point of all this, in case any others decide to take interest. But the girl presses on.

“D'you think we might be able to go out and look for them?”

And this is where the cat frowns. No, absolutely not. It is too dangerous, and there were forces at hand that would bring her a fate worse than death if they ever crossed paths.

“But I’m older now!” she stamps. “I can be more careful! And if we found them, then we can stop any more of this from happening! No more disappearances, no more people dying! And I got you, don’t I? We could do it together! We could stop this all!”

Despite not having a human face, the cat can feel his brows furrowing. Indeed, he has been growing in power since the Beldam incident, drawing strength from the offerings and practices the child has given him, but it is too much. It is too risky. He was only barely hanging by a thread before, and to risk her dying and letting the last dregs of his being wither away without her? Inconceivable.

And yet...

He has never truly liked the Beldam much, nor others of her ilk. In spite of who he is, he has always thought that stealing way lives like this was just a touch bit cruel. The only lives he had ever claimed were the miscreants, the troublemakers, even in spite of their inferiority to the pure of heart. He had a conscience, and it was telling him that what was happening wasn’t right.

So he accepts. At this time, Coraline has grown much older, and together they set out from the Pink Palace across America, crossing paths with divine beings and making friends and foes alike. She learns more of the realm of the Fae, visits it a few times maybe, and eventually she learns about the world just beyond that, and how everything is tied into it.

She learns about the world of gods.

Things get a bit more muddled after that, as Coraline begins to learn just where and how the different pantheons overlap, and how she falls into danger and out of it through trial and error. She learns about the Ash tree in Virginia. She learns about the funeral home in Cairo. She learns about a boy and his brother and their search for their father. She learns about the New Gods, the Old, and the Storm, and everything else that comes with it.

But overall, she is not afraid. For she is Coraline, and she is nothing if not careful and tricky. And even so, the cat is always by her side, protecting her and supporting her althroughout.

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leftandwrite · 4 years

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FAQ:

The fandoms I write for:

Newsies

Madam Secretary

Les Miserables

Doctor Who

BBC Sherlock

Bridgerton

Hamilton

Downton Abbey

Morganville Vampires

Fringe

Bones

Harry Potter*

Lord of the Rings

The Hobbit

Night at the Museum

Kingsman

Knives Out

Boardwalk Empire

The Godfather

The Hunger Games

Star Wars

Star Trek (yes Galaxy Quest counts)

Marvel

Narnia

Phantom of the Opera

His Dark Materials

The Golden Compass

Good Omens

Stardust

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Pirates of the Caribbean

Twin Peaks

The Terror (season 1)

As well as a bunch of random movies and obscure books/tv shows, including practically every period drama, so if your fandom isn’t listed just ask!

What I write:

canon ships

non-canon ships

reader inserts

oneshots

headcanons

alphabets

NSFW

AUs

crossovers

song ficlets

Although if you have anything else you’d like me to write, I’m open to new ideas/suggestions!

What else you can ask for:

your newsie nickname

your HDM dæmon

character I ship you with

your patronus/animagus form*

your Hogwarts/Ilvermorny house*

literally anything, seriously

If there’s something you’d like to say or ask for, feel free to drop by my inbox! Even just to say hi or tell me about your day!

What I do not write:

ships involving real people

NSFW involving minors

any kind of non-con

I may still decline requests that don’t contain any of that, but only if I have good reason, and if that does happen I will absolutely tell you why. On the flip side, if you feel like I should make an exception to write a request you have, just ask. I’m pretty open minded, so who knows, you could convince me!

What else you should know:

This is a safe space. Don’t ever feel afraid to interact or make a request. I’m never gonna judge you or give you shit for requesting something, whether I’ll write for it or not.

I tag everything. Asks, anons, requests, fandoms, characters, type of work, genre, you name it. I’ll tag NSFW and the trigger warnings that may apply, but if I miss anything you’d like me to tag, just let me know!

I have no schedule or queue, but I’m always here. Requests are always open. I might not post quickly, but I’m gonna damn well try.

I’ll update this post regularly, if I start or stop writing a particular thing or for a particular fandom. Just search for FAQ if you need to double check anything on this post.

*I do not agree with or support the author of the Harry Potter series or her views in any way. Whilst many believe that it is possible to separate the work from the creator, I recognise that her prejudices are an intrinsic part of her characters and stories. Even so, those stories and their characters have brought comfort to many, including a large number of LGBT+ individuals, and it isn’t my place to further exclude anyone from a community they may have grown up or felt safe with. Therefore, I have not removed Harry Potter from my writing list yet, but I will be carefully reviewing any requests I may receive before deciding whether or not to write them. My love and apologies to anyone harmed by her and her opinions and supporters.

#FAQ #writing #fandoms #requests #character imagines #character headcanons #fandom imagines #fanfiction #fanfics

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thisblogisalsoboundforglory · 4 years

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WHAT I HAVE BEEN READING LATELY

Kage Baker’s Company Series

In the Garden of Iden

Sky Coyote

Mendoza in Hollywood

The Graveyard Game

The Life of the World to Come

The Children of the Company

The Machine's Child

The Sons of Heaven

The Empress of Mars

Not Less than Gods

Nell Gwynne's On Land and At Sea

Black Projects, White Knights: The Company Dossiers

Gods and Pawns

In the Company of Thieves

Ø Science Fiction written by a woman with Asperger’s. Wildly uneven. Main protagonist is female, but there are lots of POV characters, male and female.

Ø Big ideas.

Ø Lots of adventure, some action.

Ø Small doses of humor.

Neil Gaiman

Good Omens (with Sir Terry Pratchett)

Neverwhere

Stardust

American Gods

Anansi Boys

The Graveyard Book

The Ocean at the End of the Lane

Ø Neil’s books are a road trip with Carl Jung, Joseph Campbell and a baggie full of sativa.

Ø Ideas are incidental. The Milieu’s in charge.

Ø Adventure happens whether you like it or not.

Ø Cosmic humor. The joke’s on us.

Connie Willis’s Oxford Time Travel Series

Firewatch

Doomsday Book

To Say Nothing of the Dog (and the novel that inspired it – Jerome K. Jerome’s Three Men in a Boat)

Blackout/All Clear

Assorted:

The Last of the Winnebagos

Ø Connie loves her historical research. Blackout/All Clear actually lasts as long as the Blitz, but anything in the Oxford Time Travel series is worth reading. Doomsday Book reads like prophecy in retrospect.

Ø One idea: Hi! This is the human condition! How fucking amazing is that?!?

Ø Gut-punch adventure with extra consequences. Background action.

Ø I’d have to say that Doomsday Book is the funniest book about the black death I’ve ever read, which isn’t saying much. To Say Nothing of the Dog is classic farce, though. Girl’s got range.

Neal Stephenson

Snow Crash (After the apocalypse, the world will be ruled by Home-Owners Associations. Be afraid.)

Cryptonomicon

Anathem

Seveneves

Ø Neal writes big, undisciplined, unfocused books that keep unfolding in your mind for months after you’ve read them. He’s a very guy-type writer, in spite of a female protagonist or two. Seveneves, be warned, starts out brilliant and devolves into extreme meh.

Ø Big. Fucking. Ideas.

Ø Battles, crashes, fistfights, parachute jumps, nuclear powered motorcycles and extreme gardening action. Is there an MPAA acronym for that?

Ø Humor dry enough to be garnished with two green olives on a stick.

Christopher Moore

Pine Cove Series:

Practical Demonkeeping

The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove

The Stupidest Angel: A Heartwarming Tale of Christmas Terror (Okay, yeah, Christmas. But Christmas with zombies, so that’s all right.)

Fluke (Not strictly Pine Cove, but in the same universe. Ever wonder why whales sing? They’re ordering Pastrami sandwiches. I’m not kidding.)

Death Merchant Chronicles:

A Dirty Job

Secondhand Souls (Best literary dogs this side of Jack London)

Coyote Blue (Kind of an outlier. Overlapping characters)

Shakespeare Series:

Fool

The Serpent of Venice

Shakespeare for Squirrels

Assorted:

Island of the Sequined Love Nun (Cargo cults with Pine Cove crossovers. I have a theory that the characters in this book are direct descendants of certain characters in Stephenson’s Cryptonomicon.)

Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal (So I have a favorite first-century wonder rabbi. Who doesn’t?)

Sacre Bleu

Noir

Ø Not for the squeamish, the easily offended, or those who can’t lovingly embrace the fact that the human species is pretty much a bunch of idiots snatching at moments of grace.

Ø No big ideas whatever. Barely any half-baked notions.

Ø Enthusiastic geek adventure. Action as a last resort.

Ø Nonstop funny from beginning to end.

Ben Aaronovitch’s Rivers of London Series

Rivers of London

Moon Over Soho

Whispers Under Ground

Broken Homes

Foxglove Summer

The Hanging Tree

The Furthest Station

Lies Sleeping

The October Man

False Value

Tales From the Folly

Ø Lean, self-deprecating police procedurals disguised as fantasy novels. Excellent writing.

Ø These will not expand your mind. They might expand your Latin vocabulary.

Ø Crisply described action, judiciously used. Whodunnit adventure. It’s all about good storytelling.

Ø Generous servings of sly humor. Aaronovitch is a geek culture blueblood who drops so many inside jokes, there are websites devoted to indexing them.

John Scalzi

Old Man’s War Series:

Old Man’s War

Questions for a Soldier

The Ghost Brigades

The Sagan Diary

The Last Colony

Zoe’s Tale

After the Coup

The Human Division

The End of All Things

Ø Star Trek with realpolitik instead of optimism.

Ø The Big Idea is that there’s nothing new under the sun. Nor over it.

Ø Action-adventure final frontier saga with high stakes.

Ø It’s funny when the characters are being funny, and precisely to the same degree that the character is funny.

Assorted:

The Dispatcher

Murder by Other Means

Redshirts (Star Trek, sideways, with occasional optimism)

Ø Scalzi abandons (or skewers) his space-opera tendencies with these three little gems of speculative fiction. Scalzi’s gift is patience. He lets the scenario unfold like a striptease.

Ø What-if thought experiments that jolt the brain like espresso shots.

Ø Action/misadventure as necessary to accomplish the psychological special effects.

Ø Redshirts is satire, so the humor is built-in, but it’s buried in the mix.

David Wong/Jason Pargin

John Dies at the End

This Book is Full of Spiders: Seriously, Dude, Don’t Touch It

What the Hell Did I Just Read?

Ø Pargin clearly starts his novels with a handful of arresting scenes and images, then looses the characters on an unsuspecting world to wander wither they will.

Ø Ideas aren’t as big or obvious as Heinlein, but they are there to challenge all your assumptions in the same way that Heinlein’s were.

Ø Classic action/adventure for anyone raised on Scooby-Doo.

Ø Occasional gusts of humor in a climate that’s predominantly tongue-in-cheek.

Jodi Taylor’s Chronicles of St. Mary’s Series

Just One Damned Thing After Another

The Very First Damned Thing

A Symphony of Echoes

When a Child is Born*

A Second Chance

Roman Holiday*

A Trail Through Time

Christmas Present*

No Time Like the Past

What Could Possible Go Wrong?

Ships and Stings and Wedding Rings*

Lies, Damned Lies and History

The Great St Mary’s Day Out*

My Name is Markham*

And the Rest is History

A Perfect Storm*

Christmas Past*

An Argumentation of Historians

The Battersea Barricades*

The Steam Pump Jump*

And Now for Something Completely Different*

Hope for the Best

When Did You Last See Your Father?*

Why Is Nothing Ever Simple*

Plan For The Worst

The Ordeal of the Haunted Room

Ø The * denotes a short story or novella. Okay, try to imagine Indiana Jones as a smartassed redheaded woman with a time machine and a merry band of full contact historians. I love history, and I especially love history narrated by a woman who can kick T. Rex ass.

Ø The ideas are toys, not themes. Soapy in spots.

Ø Action! Adventure! More action! More adventure! Tea break. Action again!

Ø Big, squishy dollops of snort-worthy stuff.

Laurie R. King’s Mary Russell Series

The Beekeeper's Apprentice

A Monstrous Regiment of Women

A Letter of Mary

The Moor

Jerusalem

Justice Hall

The Game

Locked Rooms

The Language of Bees

The God of the Hive

Beekeeping for Beginners

Pirate King

Garment of Shadows

Dreaming Spies

The Marriage of Mary Russell

The Murder of Mary Russell

Mary Russell's War And Other Stories of Suspense

Island of the Mad

Riviera Gold

The Art of Detection (Strictly speaking, this is in the action!lesbian Detective Kate Martinelli series, but it crosses over to the Sherlock Holmes genre. If you’ve ever wondered how Holmes would deal with the transgendered, this is the book.)

Ø Sherlock Holmes retires to Sussex, keeps bees, marries a nice Jewish girl who is smarter than he is and less than half his age and he’s mentored since she was fifteen in an extremely problematic power dynamic relationship that should repulse me but doesn’t, somehow, because this is the best Sherlock Holmes pastiche out there. Mary should have been a rabbi, but it is 1920, so she learns martial arts and becomes an international detective instead. Guest appearances by Conan Doyle, Kimball O’Hara, T.E. Lawrence, Cole Porter, and the Oxford Comma.

Ø Nothing mind-expanding here, unless the levels of meta present in a fictional world that is about how the fictional world might not be as fictional as you thought come as a surprise to anyone in the era of tie-in books, films, tv, interactive social media and RPGs.

Ø If these two geniuses can’t catch the bad guys with their dazzling brilliance, they will happily kick some ass. Adventure takes center stage and the action sequences are especially creative.

Ø Amusement is afoot.

Jasper Fforde’s Thursday Next Series

The Eyre Affair

Lost in a Good Book

The Well of Lost Plots

Something Rotten

First Among Sequels

One of Our Thursdays is Missing

The Woman Who Died a Lot

Ø In a world where Librarians are revered and Shakespeare is more popular than the Beatles, someone has to facilitate the weekly anger-management sessions for the characters of Wuthering Heights, if only to keep them from killing each other before the novel actually ends. That someone is Thursday Next – Literature Cop.

Ø Mind-bending enough to give Noam Chomsky material for another hundred years.

Ø Adventure aplenty. Action? Even the punctuation will try to kill you.

Ø This is a frolicsome look at humorous situations filled with funny people. Pretty much a full house in the laugh department.

Sir Terry Pratchett’s Discworld Series/City Watch Arc

Guards! Guards!

Men at Arms

Feet of Clay

Jingo

The Fifth Elephant

Night Watch

Thud!

Snuff

Raising Steam

Ø If this were a game of CLUE, the answer would be Niccolo Machiavelli in Narnia with a Monty Python. Everything you think you know about books with dragons and trolls and dwarves and wizards is expertly ripped to shreds and reassembled as social satire that can save your soul, even if it turns out you don’t really have one. Do not be fooled by the Tolkien chassis – there’s a Vonnegut-class engine at work.

Ø Caution: Ideas in the Mirror Universe May be Larger Than They Appear

Ø The City Watch arc has plenty of thrilling action sequences. Some other of the fifty-million Discworld novels have less. Every one of them is nonstop adventure. Most of the adventure, however, takes the form of characters desperately trying to avoid thrilling action sequences.

Ø Funny? Even though I’ve read every book in the series at least ten times, I still have to make sure I have cold packs on hand in case I laugh so hard I rupture something.

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thenightling · 5 years

Text

LGBT+ Neil Gaiman characters

All right. Let’s begin. This is a long list so I’m bound to accidentally leave a few out. Feel free to correct me if you think of one or two I may have forgotten to list.

April Spink and Miriam Forcible from Coraline (couple.)

Angela (Lesbian).

The character Neil Gaiman created for Spawn is Angela. Angela is now owned by Marvel. Angela is a lesbian in a loving relationship with a transwoman named Sera.

Salim and The Jinn from American Gods (Couple).

This relationship got nominated for a GLAAD award.

Sam Black Crow in American Gods (Bisexual)

Snow White (Lesbian) Snow White (Yes, the fairy tale character) is the lesbian protagonist of The Sleeper and the Spindle, which is a sort of crossover fanfiction of Snow White and Sleeping Beauty that Neil Gaiman wrote as a short story.

Captain Shakespeare in the film adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s Stardust (Gender nonconforming.)

His sexual preference is ambiguous but he loves feminine, soft, and pink things including womens clothing, hairdressing, and theatre. He also leads a band of cutthroat pirates who follow him loyally so there is that.

Loki (Loki)

There’s Loki in Neil’s book on Norse Mythology. Loki also appears in American Gods and The Sandman.

There’s also quite a few LGBT+ characters in Neil Gaiman’s Sandman, which include (but are not necessarily limited to):

Paul and Alexander Burgess (male couple).

It should be noted that Alexander and Paul were clearly in an open relationship (Polyamorous?) in the 1960s (With Alexander Burgess likely being panasexual) and they are now exclusive to each other by the end of Sandman: The Wake.

Judy (lesbian).

Judy was, unfortunately, phyiscally violent with Donna and it cost her the relationship. Judy died along with several other character at a diner when John Dee (Doctor Destiny) got a hold of Morpheus’ dream stone.

Donna AKA Foxglove (lesbian).

Donna is Judy’s ex-girlfriend but she ultimately found happiness with Hazel.

Hazel (lesbian).

Hazel had a one night stand with a man that resulted in pregnancy. She did not really enjoy it and now she and Donna (Foxglove) raise the baby together after having overcome many relationship issues. The baby was named after Wanda (the transwoman character). Since the baby was a boy they named him with Wanda’s deadname to remember her (Personally I think Wanda should have just been his middle name. Wanda hated the name Alvin). It should be noted that Donna and Hazel’s love story (which starts in Sandman: A Game of you) got a spin-off comic called Death: The Time of your Life and that comic won a GLAAD award for representation in the mid-90s.

Cluracan (Bisexual. Possibly panasexual by modern standards.),

Wanda (Transwoman).

Desire (Genderfluid and panasexual). Desire is the living embodiment of desires, good and bad desires. One moment they might want your death, the next they’re helping save the universe. Desire can be male, female, both, or neither at will.

The Corinthian (gay),

John Constantine (Bisexual.) Though not originally created by Neil Gaiman he was written by Neil Gaiman in a few stories. Including his appearance in Sandman.

Lucifer Morningstar. (Complicated.) Lucifer Morningstar (like all of Neil Gaiman’s angels) is depicted as having no true biological gender in both The Sandman comics and in Lucifer’s own solo comics. Lucifer presents as male and uses male pronouns. He self-identifies as male but many other angels don’t really consider themselves as male or female despite how they present themselves.

In the TV adaptation of Lucifer he is portrayed as having male and female lovers. It should also be noted that in the comics Lucifer was physically modeled after biseuxal rock star, David Bowie.

Mazikeen (Female identifying. Bisexual) Mazikeen is a female-identifying demon portrayed as bisexual in both the TV show Lucifer and in Lucifer’s spin-off comics. In Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman she was Lucifer’s lover.

Eve (Bisexual)

Eve appeared in Neil Gaiman’s Sandman and in Lucifer as well as American Gods. In the Lucifer TV series she is portrayed as bisexual.

Note: Eve can change her age and appearance at will. Sometimes she’s young, sometimes she’s old. Sometimes she’s middle aged. And though she’s often appeared as white (such as in Sandman), she is black in the newer Sandman Universe comics, and in Good Omens.

Various angels. (Diverse)

This one is a little complex. Many of Neil Gaiman depictions of Angels do not actually identify as male or female though many of them present as male.

Anatomically they are without gender unless they will it to be otherwise. Many of them have taken male and female Earthly lovers. You can see Lucifer depicted without physical gender in Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman, and other angels depicted similarly in the Lucifer solo comics that spin-off from Sandman.

Pollution from Good Omens (Non-Binary)

Aziraphale and Crowley in Good Omens (Couple. Demi panromantic celestial?)

Neil Gaiman does not personally view Aziraphale and Crowley in Good Omens as gay because they only present as male but aren’t truly male or female by nature. He has also said he does not view a male and female presenting angel couple as straight either for the same reason. He has said “I never said they are not queer.” just that he wouldn’t use the word gay for them.

I know that’s not all of them but there you go. A list of LGBT+ characters created by Neil Gaiman.

And before I get a stupid hate-DM about how Wanda is “transmisogynist” because you read a Mary Sue article by someone who doesn’t understand context, understand this. There was no Trans representation when Wanda was created. She can’t follow a stereotype. The stereotype didn’t exist yet. She had not medically transitioned and ask yourself if you find her problematic just because she isn’t the conventional idea of feminine in her bone structure and height (Something even cis women have to struggle with). Yes, Wanda died but it was to show the cishet readers of 1992 that her soul was always that of a woman. There are still people today (even some Trans people) who don’t think you really count unless you fully medically transition. Wanda was scared of surgery but that shouldn’t matter. She was always a woman and that was the point Neil was trying to make.

Yes, Wanda’s family was transphobic. They were supposed to be seen as transphobic. Also Thessaly AKA Larissa and George are NOT supposed to be seen as good people. They are supposed to be seen as Transphobic. Thessaly is a pretty horrible person in The Sandman comics. She’s selfish and kind of homicidal. She represents the cold, self-absorbed immortal Morpheus used to be like. And before you try to argue “Just because Transphobia is real doesn’t mean Neil has to depict it!” (and yes, I’ve been given that argument while defending Neil Gaiman) ... Before you argue that, I want you to know something.

A Transman friend of mine was deeply moved by Wanda’s story because he went through similar. His parents still deadname him and misgender him on birthday and holiday cards and gifts. They never disowned him but they want to pressure him to “realize” he’s a woman. When he saw that Wanda went through similar, especially at her own funeral, he no longer felt so alone. Wanda may well have saved his life. So yes, I will defend that “problematic” character who died nobility and who was used in the early 90s to teach cishet readers that Transwoman (medically transitioned or not) are still women. Also, Neil is NOT accountable for how the story was drawn. He’s not the illustrator. So stop using the artwork to claim he’s homophobic. A comic book writer essentially writes a script and then it is up to the illustrator to draw it as best they can. By the way, the illustrator of Sandman: A Game of You (Where Wanda came from) was Colleen Doran, who was nominated for a Gaytastic Spectrum award in 2001.

Stop looking for reasons to hate one of the only men who has been trying to give the LGBT+ community representation since the 1980s.

#Neil Gaiman #LGBT+ characters #Gay characters #Gay representation #The Sandman #Lucifer Morningstar #Good Omens #American Gods

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