themalhambird

[themalhambird]

#fortunatley he will not survive to the next parliament

[themalhambird]

I'm gonna sound very old person yells at cloud but I don't care, I feel like I need to say this. We all (well most of us) know that messaging Neil with any headcanons/theories/wishes/hopes/dreams to do with the show is a no-go because it could potentially compromise the story he wants to tell or ends up telling. And yes, he is a grown up who chooses what to respond to etc and I think it's wonderful he engages with fans and answers a lot of lovely and interesting questions about his process, writing and journey etc.

However, there is another reason not to send theories and ideas about how the show should go to the show creator in the hope of a response: it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter whether a theory is correct, or a speculation may or may not play out. That is why fandom exists.

Online fandom is where we all come together to yell and cry and throw around weird-ass ideas and theories and look at art and read fanfic and unite in our love of characters and a show. A huge part of being in fandom, is the way fandom theories become like an understood little bit of fanon lore that some people attach to, others disregard. But it doesn't matter. And part of the fun of fandom, is when a new season or a new episode of the show comes out, you have this collective catalogue of ideas and theories and headcanons and you get to yell and scream, "omg it happened1" or "lol that that thing was ever talked about" or "thank god that theory didn't come to pass".

Wanting to know now (not that we ever will) and not wanting to wait until the next season to find out the answers diminishes the fandom experience. I cannot stress enough how much we are in the absolute peak of the fandom experience right now. The between seasons time is the ultimate time to be a part of a fandom (as I'm sure many people are well aware), knowing there's another season coming energises everyone to create and connect and speculate and it's glorious! I know it feels like it'll be like this forever, but it won't. Next season is the last and yes, there will be a flurry and uptick of all the energy and excitement once again, and I absolutely believe Good Omens fandom will live on and remain active and thrumming. But there won't be theories and what ifs and hunting for clues for the next season, and over time it will dwindle a little and plateau and some people will fall into other fandoms, and while it will probably bubble away, there won't be the anticipation that sits with us now.

My point is, fandom is where we get to throw around ideas and flail and be ridiculous and also serious sometimes, but it's all for us. For the fans. Showing Neil theories or getting in a flap about a particular speculation and asking if x, y, or z might happen isn't just about putting the creator in an awkward spot, it takes away what fandom is about. Just let this time be ours. If you haven't been in fandom before, enjoy it! Don't be in a hurry to seek definitive answers or know things either way.

It doesn't matter if any or none or all of the things that float around end up being correct or incorrect. Fandom isn't about being right. It's about being a part of a community and being able to share ideas and it's about it being FUN.

So TL;DR Stop sending Neil fan ideas because that is for fandom, not for the creator.

[themalhambird]

I've seen several sites mention this, it's real.

Do not make the MISTAKE of thinking you need to put your side forward. The Guardian is transphobic as fuck, and will twist your words. DO NOT ENGAGE.

By the way, this is in the aftermath of the Cass Report, and the goal will be to make Trans DIY something that needs to be regulated or stamped out. DO NOT ENGAGE.

#trans issues #uk #heads up and here we go... #(continue to go)

[themalhambird]

Shout out to all the spare humans

#LOOK AT THE TEEFIES! #catte

[themalhambird]

a[t/r]rest : escape velocity missing scene

RAVEN HITS THE WATER AND THE THAMES rushes, like a kraken that’s half starved, to swallow her whole. The murky brown water engulfs her, and then settles: she is gone, and might never have been there at all. She fell (and all evil above, there are days Max curses how well he can eyeball a distance) 63.7 metres. She was shot before she fell. 

The black choppers are converging on the pod. At the speed they’re going, Max gives it three, maybe four minutes before those soldiers on the ropes are swarming through the escape hatch. That gives him just enough time for—

—what? He’s too far away from any allies for the commlink in his cufflinks to be of use. He isn’t armed. He didn’t come armed to a meeting with a friend who he had known was in some kind of trouble. Because he trusted Gregori, and because he was with Raven; because it was London and he had thought he had An Understanding with the anti-G.L.O.V.E forces that operated in London- an understanding that should have rendered this trap unspringable…

So much for that. His shoulder hurts. Why does his shoulder hurt? Gregori had been running from Number One himself. He would have had the foresight to arm himself. Two minutes and closing. Even if Gregori was carrying a weapon, Max isn’t going to be able to fight his way out of a glass pod suspended above the Thames. 

He kneels by his friend’s body anyway, uncaring that his suit starts lapping up the pool of blood spreading out across the see-through floor. What are they making of this below, all those tourists scurrying about the Southbank, like so many worker ants? Gregori’s grey, blank eyes are fixed looking up at the endless expanse of sky. 

“Proshchay moy drug,” Max says quietly, reaching out and gently closing those eyes. He bends down and kisses, first, his old friend’s forehead- then his lips. There’s an old, familiar anger warming up again in his chest- long dormant, but never fully extinguished and now grown just that little bit hotter- like the flame of a bunsen burner with a vent just cracked open. 

The choppers move to block all four sides of the pod. There’s a loud thud as boots land on the roof. Max removes the signet ring from Gregori’s little finger and slips it on to his own. He takes the gold band from Gregori’s ring finger and slips it on to his own. They’re loose, of course. Gregori Leonov has made many cracks, over the years, about both the slenderness of Max’s fingers and the thickness of his own. But they’ll stay on Max’s hand unless they’re deliberately taken, and whilst Nero has little doubt that they will be taken, Max refuses not to try. When and if he gets out of this mess, he’ll find out what became of Madame Leonov’s corpse and if it’s possible, he’ll return her husband’s wedding ring to her. 

A rush of cold air enters the pod, and the noise from the helicopters’ blades increases exponentially. Max stands slowly, and as he does so he feels, rather than hears, the thud of feet landing behind him. Six men- Max can see their vague, distorted reflections in the glass. They spread out,  then close in riffles all trained on him and- ah, off course. One end of a rope ladder thuds down after them. 

There, Max thinks distantly. Right down there. That’s where Natalya hit the water when she fell. She’d fallen further in her time, surely? And with worse injuries than a bullet-graze. Hell’s sake, why was his shoulder throbbing so—-

His gaze falls on spider-webbed glass. The bullet hole at the centre of it. Drops briefly to the tunnel bored through Gregori Leonov’s heart and…oh. Of course. He’d already been moving when the bullet broke the wall, his shoulder colliding with Gregori’s chest too late to pull him down out of the way, just quickly enough to support the already lifeless corpse and…

He reaches underneath the lapel of his jacket, probing at the shoulder giving him the problem. His fingers graze a wetness and recoil. When he pulls his hand back, his fingertips are stained with red. 

“I SAID, TURN AROUND WITH YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!”

Faint Gascony accent. The too-irritated tone of a soldier who knows he’s not allowed to shoot whatever it is he’s pointing his gun at, and really wants an excuse to do it anyway. Nero half turns, craning his neck round to look at him. “Terribly sorry, I wasn’t paying the smallest bit of attention,” he says, with all the cool, arch-politeness of a gentleman somebody else just barrelled into. He’s just about completed the one-eighty and is halfway through raising his hands when his vision fades to black for a moment. It fades back in just as quickly, but it’s not a promising sign. 

“You are being taken into the custody of the Hostile Operative Prosecution Executive-”

“The what?” Nero’s never heard of such a group, which means that nobody in G.L.O.V.E has come across it before either, which means that somehow, an organisation with the authority to run a mission in Central London, in broad daylight, has sprung into being without anybody in Nero’s world noticing. How— no. No, if Number One was behind this, somehow, he wouldn’t need a front- and he wouldn’t be so foolish as to play at secret services in the M.I sandpit, not when it would have been just as convenient if not more so to simply target Nero’s shroud over open waters as he returned to the school. 

If Max is lucky. If he’s very, very lucky. His credit is still good enough with Number One that even if G.L.O.V.E’s esteemed leader learns that Nero was captured whilst meeting a traitor, the man will assume that- had Leonov not been shot and Nero not been captured mid meeting- his longest standing, most faithful vassal would have dealt with Leonov for him. After all, Number One hadn’t alerted the rest of ruling council (why?) to Leonov’s supposed treason (what the hell had he found out?) and when Diabolus—

We don’t think about how it ended with Darkdoom, Nero’s dilapidated and long-atrophied conscience reminds him. That’s right,  Nero’s sanity agrees: the line of thinking is, therefore,  concordantly switched off and Nero re-focuses on the soldier, who is repeating, angrily: “The Hostile Operative Prosecution Executive-” and oh. Oh. It’s childish, but Nero simply can’t resist- he’s been shot through the shoulder and one of his best, last friends is dead on the floor, he’ll blame it on blood loss and shock if he ever has to. He smiles, broadly, and says:

“I suppose you’re hoping I’ll come quietly.”

The soldier growls- raises his rifle like a club and- honestly, Nero can see it coming, but why bother trying to block it? He’s not the one who’ll have to get his unconscious body up a rope ladder after, and with that joke he’s probably earned it—

Captain Denbas slams the butt of his rifle into the side of the prisoner’s skull. The prize malefactor crumples to the ground- felled like a sapling stood before a tsunami, though his head is spared a second blow. The corpse cushions it. This “Doctor Nero” character lands slumped across his dead confederate’s chest, instead of directly slamming into the cubicle's hard floor. 

Pity. 

“Jackson, pick him up,” he orders, glancing at  the private on his far left. Jackson’s not the tallest man of the squad, but he’s got the broadest shoulders. Their prisoner’s easily more than six foot, but he’s thin. Jackson nods, moving to comply. “Alright let’s move it, go,” Denbas says, grasping for the ladder himself. “There’s a team down on the ground waiting to take care of the rest of this mess. 90 minutes,” (pulling himself up towards the eager, waiting maw of the chopper) “90 minutes, and we throw that son of a bitch in a cell, where he belongs…”

(Meanwhile Max is drifting, lost in a spinning world of cold, rational calculation and frantic prayer. Natalya fell. 63.7 metres. Natalya fell. Into water- into the Thames, and all associated muck. She was shot before she fell. An open wound, and such a very long fall, and so very vile a stretch of water. But she’s strong, she’s strong, she’s strong: she knows how to swim, and she’s survived greater falls, and far worse injuries, and dealt with similarly unsanitary conditions and oh! how swiftly flies the raven/ swooping ‘fore the jaws of death:/Thou fears her wings are stop’d from beating/but soars she still on Aura’s breath…)

#self reblog #h.i.v.e #doctor nero #raven

[themalhambird]

this is need a win Worf, the Worf for when you need just one gd thing to go right. Reblog for a win

[themalhambird]

Bram Stoker, Mary Shelley and Robert Louis Stevenson reading like that Edgar Allan Poe meme

[themalhambird]

[themalhambird]

OH ! Bited

#I NEED #ARE THESE REAL CAN I BUY THEM??

[themalhambird]

[themalhambird]

So I just saw a post by a random personal blog that said “don’t follow me if we never even had a conversation before” and?????? Not to be rude but literally what the fuck??????????

I’ve had people (non-pornbots) try to strike conversation out of nowhere in my DMs recently, and now I’m wondering if they were doing that because they wanted to follow me and thought they needed to interact first. I feel compelled to say, just in case, that it’s totally okay to follow this blog (or my side blog, for that matter) even if we’ve never talked before.

Also, I’m legit confused. Is this how follow culture works right now? It was worded like it’s common sense but is that really a thing?

[themalhambird]

are you fr saying the spanish inquisition wasn’t that bad 😭 so many jews and muslims were forced to convert to catholicism and then couldn’t escape conviction anyways

Let's establish what we are talking about, shall we?

What was the Spanish inquisition? It was a religious tribunal in charge of keeping the behavior of the Christian subjects of the crowns of Castile and Aragon strictly within the Catholic doctrine.

Which was a big deal, because the same monarchs that established the tribunal, made it illegal to be their subject if you weren't Catholic.

Which was a very big deal, because by the time they issued that law, about 1/6th of the current Spain and Portugal were Jewish. So this led to the infamous expulsion of the Jews and Muslims from Iberia and the creation of the Sephardic diaspora.

So how much did the inquisition have to do with such expulsion? Very little hands on intervention, besides an advisory role of its chief inquisitor. In contrast, They had A LOT to do with those who stayed.

And again, that's a big deal, because they were A LOT of people.

Unlike other pogroms against Jew people in the history of Europe, the Iberic expulsion didn't have an ethnic base: it was purely a religious matter. Basically, Jews, first, and Muslim , later, were issued an ultimatum: convert and assimilate or leave forever. And well, only 1/4th of the Jew population left the country and become the Sephardim. The majority decided to convert and stay.

And that's where the inquisition comes into play. Because they started hunting for those who could have converted just for the looks. So technically, they never were supposed to deal with Jews or Muslim, but with "Christians" who were not following the doctrine properly. So when they processed someone for being suspicious of practicing Jewish rites or whatever they were being accused of, the accused usually could get out of trouble with just some admission of guilt, some public humiliation and a bow of being a perfect Christian from that point on. It was only a few dozen cases per year where they got as far as executing someone.

And now let me be super clear: everyone involved in what I've been talking about was terrible. People being forcefully converted or facing exile was a particular low point in Spanish history. Everything was terrible and fuck the inquisition a thousand times.

But that being said, all this needs to be framed within the European religious wars of the XVI-XVII centuries. And within that framework, the Spanish inquisition numbers are almost nothing compared with the fresh hell that was going on in other countries during the time. Shit, the French killed twice more people for religious issues in a single day than the Spanish inquisition in their entire run.

So I guess my point is that yeah, the inquisition was terrible, but the fact they are the ones who get mentioned when someone talks about religion extremism nowadays, instead of the french killing hugenots, the English burning Ireland and Scotland, or whatever the hell was going on in the German states during those years, is 100% because of the English being very good at propaganda and having an axe to grind against the Spanish empire.

#...the English have an axe to grind against the Spanish Empire? #anyway this is an interesting and informative post

[themalhambird]

the way aragorn runs is so chaotic

[themalhambird]

Had a debate with a friend and now I gotta know

please reblog for larger sample size, my friend bet me no one would say Gimli and I wanna prove her wrong

#...i had a crush on Ents as a concept #looking back I should have figured out i was ace much sooner #OH WAIT MAYBE I COULD HAVE IF THAT HAD EVER BEEN ACKNOWLEDGED AS A THING--- #that being said Gimli is very cool and now I am older absolutely the one of those characters on that list I would marry #if for some reason I had to marry one of them

[themalhambird]

@nathanwpyle

I literally love this.

I couldn't stop laughing for 20 minutes.

No joke.

[themalhambird]

never let anyone tell you that trawling through mediocre victorian poetry isn't worth it. we just happened upon an absolute BANGER of a worm poem. go read it or else 🪱🪱🪱

#poetry #worms!

[themalhambird]

#collies and cats my two favourite domesticated animals! #that colllie is so pure and precious! #look at his play-bows and then respecting the fact that kitten doesnt do them back so as far as he knows right now The Very Small Dog doesnt #wanna play! #such a gentle bb! #and lookit the kitten getting more and more confident and snuggling up to pupper!