fav trope is little kids finding out that MB is a SecUnit and immediately asking to see its guns with 0 fear, just pure fascination. WHOLESOME
rezel-art asked:
Hey Neil, I'm starting to have success with my art, and sometimes some really cruel people show up to say bad things about my job. It's just a few of them, but it hurts anyway. What do you do to deal with this kind of stuff? With affection, Replai
The dogs bark, as they say, but the caravan moves on. You keep making art. If people say mean things just resolve to make art that’s so cool they can’t hate it, or make art for the people who like what you do and ignore the rest of them.
wackiejackie1092 asked:
Hi Mr. Gaiman!
I'm a 6th grade World History teacher in Central Florida and my middle school is having a hallway decorating contest. My hallway is recreating the Epcot World Showcase and my part of the hall is the UK pavilion. I'm really proud of their creations!
One student is very artistic, but a bit shy about most of their work except for one thing: ducks. They can make a duck out of anything, and I have many of their ducks on my desk. They contributed to our hallway decorations with their ducks, making some knights in battle (because peace was never an option) and two of them star-crossed lovers.
Since you started filming Good Omens 2, I decided to relisten to the book. You have been talking about filming the duck feeding scenes on here, and thinking about that along with my students' attempts at recreating English/Disney pop culture made me think of you. I promised my student that I would send you their ducks and they were quite excited. I hope they bring you as much joy as my students bring me.
That brought joy to my day!
darkhologramblaze asked:
who do you think likes queen more?? crowley or aziraphale??
Crowley.
startrekshenanigans
thisisstarfleet
this video of the tng cast singing and dancing to their own theme song is the only thing keeping me going this week
Every time I see that post that’s something like “weird, but technically not a sin,” I think about being seven or eight years old and bawling to the priest that I had scaled the walls of the pantry in my home like a spider monkey in order to eat all of the cookies that my parents had naïvely hidden on the top shelf to keep me from getting into them and wailing that I was a hopeless criminal and hearing just dead silence on the other side of the little wall.
combat-secunit
notacatblog



prose-n-scripts
lizziedoesvetpath



