I Got Peckish

Photographer Lloyd Meudell captures surrealistic images of breaking sea foam. Interestingly, the sea foam is essentially a three-phase fluid made up of air, water, and sand. Yet despite the surrealism of its forms, the foam bears strong resemblance to other flows. The shapes the foam forms are reminiscent of vibrated non-Newtonian fluids like paint or oobleck. Momentum deforms the foam into sheets and ligaments smoothed and held together by surface tension until droplets snap free. You can find more of Meudell’s work at his site. (Image credits: L. Meudell; via freakingmindblowing; submitted by molecular-freedom)

David Tennant reads the bookshop scene from Good Omens during Playing in the Dark: Neil Gaiman and the BBC Symphony Orchestra.

Posting here to memorialise this even after the BBC takes it down from their website. Originally performed 12th Nov 2019 at the Barbican, London. 

…his Aziraphale voice is so delicate oh my word, I’m ready to offer my life savings and possibly a kidney in exchange for a full-length audiobook

I get lost thinking about the journey Crowley makes from Eden to the Apocalypse. I completely adore pre-Flood Crawly, the way that he’s still gleeful and curious about the world. He’s such a wily mischief fluff.

In praise of terrific and deliberate costume design: I can’t believe it took me this long to notice the way he gradually covers up his eyes more and more. After the Flood, she has her head covered. The next time we see him, post-Crucifixion, the sunglasses have arrived. And the specs get progressively larger over time, hiding more and more.

(I particularly love the L-shaped lenses in 1862.)

By the time we reach the Apocalypse, the glasses are opaque and completely closed off. Solid, armored protection on all sides.

(I know I didn’t catch every era, don’t @ me, tumblr gif search is the worst and the general progression seems fairly obvious, especially because of where it ends.)

You can see the progression on Crowley’s face too, of course. Watching Humans being Humans for so long starts to get to a demon. The glasses have to be impenetrable when this is where time and the Ineffable Plan have brought you.

(Got to be careful who gets to see you with the glasses off.)

(Got to have a whole glove box filled with extras so as never to be caught without them.)

There is something carefree about Crowley’s very first park bench scene with Aziraphale, in ep1. But it’s such a different kind of carefree than we used to see before the Flood. It’s world-weary, resigned, cool. He’s seen it all and he knows how the game is played.

This contrast, to me, is so perfect: he’s still Crowley. He’s just been around the block a few times by now.

And even after all of this, he wants to save the world.

“But if you forget to reblog Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity.”

want runs deep in you, heavy and thick, and the dam is creaking under its weight.

want is like dust, thousands of years worth of dust on your heavy shoulders and you dare not move. if you stay very still and keep to yourself maybe no one will notice.

want is like grief, love left unclaimed. want is like hunger and you are famished.

wanting is dangerous, so you smother it.

aziraphale + text posts bonus:

torn (apart and between)

✦ this was inspired by Gustav Klimt’s “The Kiss“ painting.

I wish that ao3 had an option to filter warnings (and tbh certain authors) out like I will never ever want to read it and just seeing it puts me off so much that often I end up closing my browser because that content upsets me so much lmao

Behold! Nice and Accurate Piano Adaptaion of Good Omens opening theme courtesy of my brilliant music theory teacher and dear friend Sergey Bogomolov. The version generally found online is obviously incorrect so l am incredibly greatfull for this edit. Also - can I hear a wahoo?

"Stop, Aziraphale, stop," Crowley whispered above him. The voice that was always so sharp, so sure, trembled as Aziraphale dropped to his knees, hands on the demon's sinewy thighs.

The angel pulled back, ceasing the gentle kisses he'd been peppering down the demon's front. Immediately he was hit by the waves of deep shame rolling off Crowley; his demon, his best friend, the being he cared more for than first editions, delicately iced tennis cakes, Veuve Clicquot at the Ritz.

"My dearest one," Aziraphale startled, "what is it? I'm so sorry, have I done something wrong?"

"We have to stop, if we don't-" Crowley sobbed, "... We can't do this- you can't be with me- you'll fall. You can't fall for me. Please, angel."

In an instant Aziraphale knew. Those were not Crowley’s words, they were his own. Not expressed directly, but implied through years of his righteous prejudice. Reminders that he was not an angel, he was not holy, he was not the same as Aziraphale.  

The angel also knew that if they were to be together he needed to tear at their shared wound. He would reach in and pull at his own weakness and cowardice until it was torn from its warm resting place above Aziraphale’s heart where it slept, leaking the thick toxic doubt that they were drowning in.

Crowley had been strong, hanging in by his polished black nails to the thought that maybe he could be loved. And now that his unattainable hope was within reach he was willing to choke the breath from the poor creature because the thought of his dream bearing its sharpened teeth and hurting his angel was too much.

Aziraphale rose and tugged the demon closer, encouraging him to open his soul to the angel, just for a moment. Only long enough to get to the ledge together.

“It is not a sin to love, my darling,” he stated, but his voice trembled. “I’ve been falling for you since the moment I opened my wings, and furthermore-...”

Aziraphale took a deep breath as he neared the edge where Crowley was already standing. He had been standing there since the beginning, waiting patiently for Aziraphale.

“... I am so sorry that I've made you feel as if you weren’t worth falling for.”

Crowley let out a desperate broken sob of relief and they stepped off together.