#neilhimself

„C‘mere, silly angel!“ Crowley grumbled and pulled Aziraphale in a hug that included arms and legs fully wrapped around Aziraphale‘s body, so there was no chance of escape. The joy over the tiny squealing noise the angel gave off should be illegal. No one, especially not a vicious demon like Crowley, should be so pleased with a noise like this. But he was. He indulged it. As his face snuggled into the soft curve of the angel‘s neck, he heard a sigh of defeat and he grinned devilishly.

Oh, what a good demon he was.

„Are you gonna hold on like this for long, my dearest?“

‚My dearest‘. It still felt off to be adressed like this. It shouldn’t feel so good, but it did. The demon hummed in satisfaction as the angel gave in into the touch and leaned his head against Crowley's temple.

"That's quite nice of you to-"

"'m not nice. Don't even know what this word means"

Aziraphale huffed in amusement, wriggled on of his arms free and put his hand on the side of Crowley's face, directly over the tiny snake tattoo that started to tickle in excitement.

"As you say so, darling"

Another pet name. If he had less control over his body, he'd probably blush.

"Grm"

"If you don't mind, I put some water on the boil for a nice cup of tea. So if you let go, this would be very demonic of you", the angel squirmed after some moments of embracing in silence. A little grumble escaped the demon's throat as he lifted his head. Oh, the smug idiot. Aziraphale looked at him like the hundreds of times he tried to politely send the demon away if he got one of 'the really good ones'-book he wanted to read.

Instead of letting go, Crowley rolled his eyes and pressed his lips against the angels soft cheek, lingered in the motion as long as possible, listening to his angel’s silly giggle about the sudden affection. He was happy. He really was.

Everything was like it always had to be.

🌈Happy Pride Month, my fellow Queerdos 🌈

To celebrate this occasion, I had to draw our ineffable Idiots, obviously 😂

— “ I didn’t mean to fall. I just hung around with the wrong people. ”

🤣🤣🤣

@neil-gaiman

This is quite possible for in next several months I'll stay in Europe. F**k you distorting that true master piece season one into a totally shit like this for money!!!!!!! YOU THUG！

Season 1 inspired me to left many pictures a bunch of new characters and helped me to start the most important story in my life, now look at what season 2 could offer!!! Only anger and sadness and rage!

Shame on you!!!!! All of you!!! All you staffs who even promote it!!!

@neil-gaiman

Dear Mr. Gaiman,

Today, I handed my husband the printed book version of your speech, "Make Good Art". As I stated previously (in a letter that's now the about page of this blog), I believe my husband is a spectacularly talented artist. He can play a dozen instruments, has recorded multiple albums by himself, he sings, draws, designs and photographs as easily as breathing it seems.

Last night, we had an explosive argument. Last night ended with him emailing relationship therapists. This morning, after a bit of the kind of communication you are only capable of once you have exhausted every bit of emotion and energy in your entire body, we started to be really honest with each other.

One of the things that my husband told me, is that he is jealous of my ability to connect and communicate with people. Another thing that he has told me during all this, is that he struggles with reading. Not that he can't read, but the comprehension of a plot is hard for him, relating to characters is hard for him.

I sincerely believe that reading was the first step to me being able to connect "so easily" to people. By pure design, reading is stepping into another's shoes, seeing through different eyes, processing through a different mind. I feel it's impossible to not learn empathy when you read enough. When I was little I read to escape a place I didn't feel heard or understood, so naturally, I read to listen and to understand.

So, this morning, after my husband said he failed to connect to stories that he tried to read (and after a couple questions about what he had tried to read), I handed him, "Make Good Art" and asked him to read it aloud to me. He did and he cried three times while reading it. I knew at that point, it wasn't an inability to connect, it was that he hadn't found the right things to read yet, and I knew how we could connect with each other.