thisbentleyplaysqueen

[thisbentleyplaysqueen]

I wasn’t going to make anything but that doodle related to today’s season 2 announcement but you know what? It needs a wakey comic.

#this made me cackle on instagram

[thisbentleyplaysqueen]

[id: the bugs bunny meme with the text I wish all good omens fan artists a very pleasant drawing Aziraphale and Crowley under an umbrella]

[thisbentleyplaysqueen]

[thisbentleyplaysqueen]

I don’t think I ever got around to posting this, but here’s a piece I commissioned of Beck from mine and @askbeckandpaige’s King Au!

@lethendralis-paints

#ooo very nice!

[thisbentleyplaysqueen]

REALLY BLOODY EXCELLENT OMENS...

Many, many years ago (it was Hallowe'en 1989, for the curious, the year before Good Omens was published) Terry Pratchett and I were sharing a room at the World Fantasy Convention in Seattle, to keep the costs down, because we were both young authors, and taking ourselves to America and conventions were expensive. It was a wonderful convention. I remember a huge Seattle second-hand bookstore in which I found a dozen or so green-bound Storisende Edition James Branch Cabell books, each signed so neatly by the author that the bookshop people assured me that the signatures were printed, and really ten dollars a book was the correct price.

I could afford books. Good Omens had just been sold to UK publishers and then to US publishers for more money than Terry or I had ever received for anything. (Terry had been incredibly worried about this, certain that receiving a healthy advance would mean the end of his career. When his career didn't end, Terry suggested to his agent that perhaps he ought to be getting that kind of advance for every book from now on, and his life changed, and he stopped having to share a hotel room to save money. But I digress.) Advance reading copies of Good Omens had not yet gone out, but a few editors had read it (ones who had bid for it but failed to buy it) and they all seemed very excited about it, and thrilled for us.

On the Saturday evening Terry left the bar quite early and headed off to bed. I stayed up talking to people and having a marvelous time, hung in there until the small hours of the morning when they closed the hotel bar and all the people went away, and then headed up to the hotel room room.

I opened the door as quietly as I could and tiptoed in the dark across the room to where my bed was located.

I'd just reached the bed when, from the far side of the room, a voice said, “What time of the night do you call this then? Your mother and I have been worried sick about you.”

Terry was wide awake. Jet lag had taken its toll.

And I was wide awake too. So we lay in our respective beds and having nothing else to do, we plotted the sequel to Good Omens. It was a good one, too. We fully intended to write it, whenever we next had three or four months free. Only I went to live in America and Terry stayed in the UK, and after Good Omens was published Sandman became SANDMAN and Discworld became DISCWORLD™ and there wasn't ever a good time.

But we never forgot it.

It's been thirty-one years since Good Omens was published, which means it's thirty-two years since Terry Pratchett and I lay in our respective beds in a Seattle hotel room at a World Fantasy Convention, and plotted the sequel. (I got to use bits of the sequel in the TV series version of Good Omens -- that's where our angels came from.)

Terry and I, in Cardiff in 2010, on the night we decided that Good Omens should become a television series.

Terry was clear on what he wanted from Good Omens on the telly. He wanted the story told, and if that worked, he wanted the rest of the story told.

So in September 2017 I sat down in St James' Park, beside the director, Douglas Mackinnon, on a chair with my name on it, as Showrunner of Good Omens. The chair slowly and elegantly lowered itself to the ground underneath me and fell apart, and I thought, that's not really a good omen. Fortunately, under Douglas's leadership, that chair was the only thing that collapsed.

The crumbled chair.

So, once Good Omens the TV series had been released by Amazon and the BBC, to global acclaim, many awards and joy, Rob Wilkins (Terry's representative on Earth) and I had the conversation with the BBC and Amazon about doing some more. And they got very excited. We talked to Michael Sheen and David Tennant about doing some more. They also got very excited. We told them a little about the plot. They got even more excited.

Rob Wilkins and David Tennant on the second day of shooting.

Me and Michael and Ash aged nearly 2.

What it was mostly like shooting Good Omens: peering into screens while something happened round the corner.

I'd been a fan of John Finnemore's for years, and had had the joy of working with him on a radio show called With Great Pleasure, where I picked passages I loved, had amazing readers read them aloud and talked about them.

(Here's a clip from that show of me talking about working with Terry Pratchett, and reading a poem by Terry: https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/p06x3syv. Here's the whole show from YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j7OsS_JWbzQ with John Finnemore's bits too.)

L to R: With Great Pleasure. John Finnemore, me all beardy, Nina Sosanya (Sister Mary in Good Omens) Peter Capaldi (he played Islington in the original BBC series of Neverwhere).

I asked John if he'd be willing to work with me on writing the next round of Good Omens, and was overjoyed when he said yes. We have some surprise guest collaborators too. And Douglas Mackinnon is returning to oversee the whole thing with me.

So that's the plan. We've been keeping it secret for a long time (mostly because otherwise my mail and Twitter feeds would have turned into gushing torrents of What Can You Tell Us About It? long ago) but we are now at the point where sets are being built in Scotland (which is where we're shooting, and more about filming things in Scotland soon), and we can't really keep it secret any longer.

There are so many questions people have asked about what happened next (and also, what happened before) to our favourite Angel and Demon. Here are, perhaps, some of the answers you've been hoping for.

As Good Omens continues, we will be back in Soho, and all through time and space, solving a mystery which starts with one of the angels wandering through a Soho street market with no memory of who they might be, on their way to Aziraphale's bookshop.

(Although our story actually begins about five minutes before anyone had got around to saying “Let there be Light”.)

from https://journal.neilgaiman.com/2021/06/really-bloody-excellent-omens.html

[thisbentleyplaysqueen]

Anybody else got like,, rlly random connections to famous ppl?? Like my older brothers were friends w Jennifer Lawrence when they were like 12 and I just found out I’m friends w the cousin of the girl who voiced honey lemon in big hero six like, idk what I’m supposed to do with either of these tid bits I feel like I was supposed to live my life in ignorance of them

#i went to junior high with the guy who played the chikd version of the bad guy in spy kids 4

[thisbentleyplaysqueen]

ROCKETMAN (2019)

Dir. Dexter Fletcher

#this scene hurt more than it probably shpuld have

[thisbentleyplaysqueen]

just wondering.. why are broadway fans so afraid to admit that broadway is racist

#yeah Broadway is extremely racist #and it needs some major change

[thisbentleyplaysqueen]

That is almost literally the story of the founder of my university ajdjsjjs

The guy traveled the United States with his duck, donated a bunch a land for the college and now the duck is a major symbol of school spirit for the university.

Headcannon that, at some point, Zuko gets a pet turtle duck.

He names it Dragon, and calls it his favorite advisor (Sokka is absolutely mortified, he’s losing to a bird).

Dragon follows Zuko to every single meeting and will bite anyone who is rude to him, causing meetings to be a lot more civil from then on.

Occasionally, when somebody’s being especially stupid, he’ll consult with Dragon.

Zuko: What do you think?

Dragon: *quack*

Zuko: Right. Well, the duck thinks that’s stupid so we’re not going to do that.

(Also, he sometimes refers to it as The Dragon of the West, and Iroh is delighted)

[thisbentleyplaysqueen]

really wish nothing bad would happen to children ever 

[thisbentleyplaysqueen]

i felt left out! so, I made a quiz. ‘Which Zuko Are You’ quiz. it says unpublished, but you can totally still take the quiz. uquiz is just a lil bitch rn 

#me!!!! #me!

[thisbentleyplaysqueen]

When the world doesn’t end and Aziraphale suggests they go on holiday, Crowley almost bursts a vessel in his eyes trying not to say yes too emphatically.

It takes them some time to decide on an itinerary, of course, and a little longer still to be really sure they’re safe enough. If sentimentality is what leads Crowley to suggest the south of France—after all Aziraphale is so fond of crepes and good wine—there’s no one on earth who can prove it. Which is practically the same as it not being true.

However, it must be said that there are a few aspects of this vacation Crowley failed to adequately consider. To whit: even Aziraphale knows a full suit with bow tie, shirt, waistcoat, and jacket is inappropriate attire for someone on holiday in the south of France, and now Crowley has to cope with the sight of his angel in light trousers and—and Crowley cannot emphasize enough how completely this destroys him—a fuchsia linen shirt, with the sleeves rolled up. Jesus wept. At least he’s wearing socks with his loafers; if Crowley had to go straight from layered in triplicate to flashes of bare ankle he’d probably set the whole country on fire. He just helped stop the apocalypse; he’d like to enjoy the world he saved, not discorporate immediately.

They spend two days tasting all the local delicacies (Aziraphale), getting lazily drunk on the best vintages France has to offer (both of them), and gradually becoming used to the fact that Aziraphale’s forearms are extremely shapely, perhaps even bitable (Crowley) before Aziraphale suggests something moderately terrifying.

“Well, it’s what you do on holiday, isn’t it?” he says, indicating the upscale boutique. “And the weather is lovely…. It would be a shame not to take advantage.”

Crowley should have suggested a holiday in Antarctica. “All right,” he agrees, folding like a card table. “Whatever you like, angel.”

Unfortunately for Crowley, not even the most upscale boutique carries the sort of 1920s swim costume Crowley suspects Aziraphale would favor given the chance. He could maybe, nearly, almost live with that. Nor does Aziraphale seem particularly inclined to go for the wetsuit option, not that that would be any better. But no, Aziraphale’s insistence on purchasing real clothes that will last and also manage to suit his modesty requirements means Crowley has to endure him in knee-length white-and-coral striped shorts, with a white rash guard top that clings everywhere and leaves nothing to Crowley’s imagination, which works double-time regardless.

He probably shouldn’t be surprised. It’s always Crowley’s grand ideas that cause him the most trouble in the end.

Crowley miracles up his own swim costume to satisfy Aziraphale, but like Heaven he’ll actually let anyone see him wear it. It’s just the principle of the thing. Instead he lies on a large tartan beach towel the sand is too afraid to infringe upon, procures a cocktail with a little black umbrella, and presents Aziraphale with a swim ring shaped like a unicorn. “Go on, then. Have fun, angel.”

The beach is crowded, but beachgoers who venture too close to Crowley’s towel soon find themselves remembering they left their valuables unattended, or realize they desperately need a wee, or discover they’ve had too much sun and need to go back to their hotel for a nap. Apart from keeping them away, Crowley pays them no mind, focused on Aziraphale in the water, bobbing up and down in his unicorn float ring, beaming so widely Crowley has no problem discerning it from the beach despite his poor day vision. He’s obviously fine. No agents of Heaven or Hell here. Just the two of them, retired and on holiday, doing whatever they like.

Eventually even with the glasses the brightness begins to hurt his eyes, so he leans back and closes them, pulls the edge of the towel over his face for extra protection, conjures a very long straw for his cocktail, which he wedges into the sand. This isn’t so bad, really. The sun feels nice. He should sun himself more. Maybe he can convince his apartment it needs a skylight or two.

Everything is vaguely wonderful: rhythmic waves crashing on the beach, warm sun, excellent frivolous beverage. If he has to do this again tomorrow he’ll get bored, but, well, he can always summon a few jellyfish. No one’ll get stung, but avoiding the beach due to jellyfish will spoil their holiday all the same. Yes, that’s a good idea. And perhaps he can find Aziraphale an appropriate swim costume online. They do have overnight shipping these days—Crowley’s proud of that one. And—

A bone-chilling scream interrupts his idle daydream. Crowley has never heard it before, but he would know it anywhere. Aziraphale.

Before he can think about it, he’s discarded his glasses, leaving his drink and towel in the sand as he sprints to the water. The minute his bare foot touches ocean he sheds his skin, sheds it and sheds it and keeps shedding as he plunges into the water, a vast dimension unfolding from inside him, unraveling, uncoiling, until Crowley is sixty feet long and as thick around as a bodybuilder, made of teeth and menace and destruction.

Whatever hurt his angel is going to pay.

Dimly he registers the panicked screams of frantic beachgoers abandoning their earthly possessions and running for higher ground, but he doesn’t spare them a thought. He is hunting. What monster dared to threaten Aziraphale?

In the water, Crowley’s senses are more acute. He can sense Aziraphale just a few meters ahead. A few rapidly departing fish. One moray thinking oh shit merde putain fuck!! very loudly as it beelines for safer waters. An octopus that wishes it had stayed home today.

None of them are anywhere near Aziraphale, who is bobbing in an area populated only by some unusually old and therefore large Posidonia.

Crowley breaks the surface indignantly, treading water in human shape. At least, the part of him that is above the surface. “For fuck’s sake, Aziraphale, it’s just a little sea grass! The way you shrieked, I thought you were being murdered.”

Aziraphale goes pink-cheeked and sheepish. “Nonsense! I was merely startled.” He looks around the beach pointedly and then adds, pointing those eyebrows and his insinuation at Crowley, “Though I think my actions may have inadvertently led to something of a larger sensation.”

The beach was deserted, the remains of blankets and backpacks and lunches and sand toys lying abandoned in ruin. On the plus side, this would sour far more vacations than a simple jellyfish scare.

Before he can deflect, though, Aziraphale presses on. “I should have known, of course,” he says, and oh no, that’s the tone he uses when he’s about to pay Crowley a compliment. “You always come to my rescue, you old serpent.”

Crowley’s blood suddenly gets very warm and rushes to his face. “No, I—that’s—you’re—” Aziraphale smiles indulgently and Crowley stops trying to be cool and tries to change the subject instead. “Angel. I saw a little gelato shop up the strand a ways. Can I tempt you?”

“Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale says, so fond and sincere Crowley nearly burns with it, “I don’t think you’ve ever stopped.”

Then he pauses, and while Crowley is still frantically trying to stop his brain from turning into a snake again so it can have a blessed emotion without having to think about it, he shakes his head and adds, “Titanoboa, really, Crowley. You can be so dramatic.”

And he turns and paddles toward the shore, leaving Crowley sputtering and speechless in his wake.

(Inspiration post)

[thisbentleyplaysqueen]

‘tiz my birthday, and as is birthday tradition, i drew something indulgent~ 

a couple days ago, an entire comic plot fell into my lap and @fireflysummers  has been so kindly helping me flesh it out. it’s going to be a Canon Divergent AU, so yeah, look forward to that once D+D is finished! :D

(maybe this is a bit too indulgent, since i shouldn’t be talking about it while i’m in the middle of a comic already. but hey, that’s what bdays are for)

Tip Jar: Kofi / Paypal :)

#oh im intrigued

[thisbentleyplaysqueen]

The Angel, the Demon, and the Not-so Friendly Ghost- Chapter 3

Previous

Wow, y’all. I owe you BIG time! I know I said that I would update weekly. Then I had finals and basically slept for two weeks straight. I hope to catch up and get back on schedule. For now, enjoy!

“And you’re absolutely certain this will work?”

“ ‘Course it will.” Crowley waves down a carriage. It slows to a stop, and he hikes up his cane in order to reach up and open the carriage door. Aziraphale barely glances at him before climbing in. Once Aziraphale is comfortable, Crowley follows, and shuts the door with a shout of directions, and the angel looks down to the newspaper Crowley had slid to him on the ferry. The photograph that had been given alongside it was carefully slid into one of his bags, allowing him to focus on the newspaper. 

His French was a bit out of practice, but he had read the article Crowley had circled enough times to practically remember each detail. 

“Why would two junk men buy an opera house?”

“Scrap metal, angel.” Crowley says, turning back to Aziraphale as the carriage takes off at a steady canter. “They call it a scrap metal business, and they seem to have hit a bit of a fortune in the line of work. Humans love money, consider it the foundation of their happiness. You know that.” He looks out the window, leaning against his cane. “They can never get enough…”

“But why an opera house? Why not a mansion, or something extravagant like that?”

“I’ve had tabs kept on these two for a while.” Crowley admits. “And I had heard a rumor that the current owner was looking to retire, so I might have caused it to...catch their eye. Made them think they had to buy.”

“And...how do we know that they won’t arrive at the opera house at the same time?”

He waves it off. “Don’t worry about it, angel. I’ve taken care of it.”

Aziraphale frowns at that, and shakes the paper. He glares down at it as the silence hangs between them. Across from him, Crowley huffs, but says nothing. 

He will admit, Crowley planned ahead, as if he expected Aziraphale to be placed on the same mission. He must have been given his mission much sooner than he. Surely he didn’t expect Aziraphale to search him out, did he? 

No, he thinks as his frown grows. After what happened last time, Crowley wouldn’t expect that. As thick-headed as he can be, the demon is too clever to anticipate such a reaction.

“This is your stop.” Crowley’s voice breaks Aziraphale from his thoughts. He looks up as the carriage slows through a grand neighborhood. As they come to a stop, his eyes travel up the building with the ornate architecture and rich oak door. “This house is under the ownership of Monsieur Gilles Andre.” Crowley’s glasses slide down his nose, allowing Aziraphale to see his eyes as he raises his eyebrows and continues. “Remember, he has a meeting tomorrow with his business partner Monsieur Richard Firmin and the current owner of the opera house. A carriage will first pick up Monsieur Firmin, before coming for Monsieur Andre tomorrow at one o’clock sharp. Got it?”

Aziraphale nods, and Crowley opens the carriage door. Surprisingly, the demon climbs out, but the angel realizes he merely holds onto the door and stares up at him. Aziraphale can’t help but nervously clear his throat and redirect his attention to his bags. He hikes them up before slipping out of the carriage without a word. He refuses to meet Crowley’s gaze, and instead crosses to the front door. There’s a snap behind him, and before he can knock, the door opens with ease. He pauses, knowing the cause. Perhaps he should turn back, say something…

No. It is rather pointless. As soon as this mission is completed, and the spirit is sent away, the two can go their separate ways and never see each other again. 

Aziraphale supposes this thought is supposed to bring him comfort, but tries not to dwell on the growing pit in his stomach as he instead hurries inside, slamming the door behind him. 

He sighs, and leans back against the door, letting his bags barely hang from limp hands. After a moment, his eyes rove upwards, taking in the ornate staircase and the surprising emptiness.

“...Hello?” He calls. His voice echoes, and he pauses as it fades into stillness. But no one appears, and nothing moves. 

Hm. Perhaps Monsieur Andre does not have servants. 

“Well, no matter.” He mutters to himself as he makes his way up the stairs, bags in tow. He’s panting when he finally finds the master bedroom down the upper hallway. He dumps his bags just inside the doorway, before quietly shutting the door behind him. His mouth gapes in awe. 

Though Aziraphale is an angel and could summon whatever he wished, he lived relatively...simple, compared to many humans. He enjoyed his cozy bookshop with its antique armchair and rusted (but still useful) kettle. This, he realizes as he slowly turns in a circle to take in the sparse room, is nothing like his bookshop. Everything had its own sphere of space, gleaming and new. The bed seems plush (in Aziraphale’s sparse experience with beds), but everything else is simply a decoration. 

It seems Monsieur Andre really did make a fortune from scrap metal. 

No matter, he reminds himself as he shakes his head and closes his eyes, he has a job to do. He crosses to the simple desk, and begins to dig. 

-

By the time the sun set, rose, and was high in the air the next day, Aziraphale had committed every detail of Gilles Andre to memory. 

His mother lived in the countryside. According to their letters, he had moved her out there following his wealth and when her health began to fail. He’s due to visit her when he returns from his trip. 

    He had a folly of female admirers, most notably after he came into wealth. However, from the lack of personal attention paid to the organization of their letters and photos, he had little interest. Rather, the only photos set with clear premeditation were the ones of his mother, and ones of himself and Monsieur Firmin. 

He was an avid fan of the opera. That was an easy thing to mimic, since Aziraphale fancied the opera himself. Perhaps that’s how Crowley was able to convince them to…

Damn! He stands sharply, blinking in the afternoon light. At the clattering beneath, he peeks out the window to see a carriage slow to a stop outside. Gasping to himself, he hurries to the wardrobe and pulls out a simple outfit, and positions himself in the full length. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and snaps his fingers. 

Though Aziraphale is an angel and quite capable of taking any mortal shape if needed, he still grimaces at the discomfort as his form grows and thins. He can imagine his curls straightening and darkening to a grey, quite fashionable, hairstyle. He opens his eyes but refuses to look at the mirror as he hurriedly switches from the now oddly fitting tartan suit to the grey suit and dark shoes. He finally spares himself one glance in the mirror to ensure everything was in order, before hurrying out of the room. 

The knock echoes through the corridor. “Just a moment!” He calls as he takes the steps two at a time, attempting not to trip over his much longer legs. He spots his overcoat near the door. He takes it in one hand, and opens the door with the other. He pauses from where he had begun to slip on his coat at the sight of the man at the door. 

He was short, and stocky. His hair was balding enough to where the top of his head shined in the sunlight. His suit consists of browns, burgundy, and slight gold on the lapels, matching a perfect description of Monsieur Richard Firmin, his faithful business companion. It was so unlike Aziraphale’s companion, that the only way he recognized him was the dark glasses covering his eyes. 

“Crowley.” Aziraphale manages to catch his breath again, and resumes pulling on his coat, and grabs the cane near the door. “You…” he licks his lips nervously, “You’re wearing your glasses.”

Crowley grunts at that, and pushes them further up his nose. “Damn disguise can’t hide my eyes. I’ll tell them it’s a condition.”

“Fair enough.” Aziraphale responds softly. He grips his cane tightly, before slipping out and shutting the door behind him with a decisive click. 

“All settled then?” When Aziraphale nods, Crowley returns it curtly. “Good. Let’s get rid of this ghost.”

#good omens #Good Omens fanwork #Good Omens fanfiction #Phantom of the Opera AU #Angel Demon and Ghost AU #Aziraphale #Crowley

[thisbentleyplaysqueen]

Good omens and the Forbidden book chap 12

The exams are near and so is Halloween. And the cauldron is bubbling. Some where in a house of green, and angel and a demon sleep soundly

Chap 11

#awwww

[thisbentleyplaysqueen]

Aight so none of you asked but here’s my Percy Jackson series fan cast

This is the first one I’ve ever done so I have no idea how this works. Also, I like the idea that the children be unknown actors so I only did the adults! Let’s get started!

Sally Jackson

Jennifer Hudson!!! The absolute queen! I think she would make an awesome Sally Jackson mainly because I love her acting and she deserves better after Cats.

Gabe Ugliano

David Cross. Honestly I’m not sure why I thought he would be a good Gabe...I think it’s because he was the bad guy in Alvin and the Chipmunks and that kinda stuck with me. I think he could pull off “jerk face step-dad”.

Chiron

Michael Sheen! Honestly the beard gives me ‘mentor that has been around for thousands of years and is honestly trying to keep this sixth grader from being killed by a “kindly one” on a field trip’ vibes. Also, he can do American accents (Prodigal Son is a great example). Not sure how he’d look as a centaur because my brain will not allow me to view that, so we’re just flying blind here.

Mr. D

So I’ve been a big advocate that Danny Devito should play Mr. D because if you listen to “Another Terrible Day” from the musical, to me that just screams Danny Devito. He could so pull it off!

Hades

Keanu Reeves just seems like he would be an awesome king of the underworld. He would threaten to trap Percy and his friends and I would clap just because it’s Keanu. Gah, I love him.

Poseidon

I don’t know if this is because I associate him with Aquaman or what, but honestly I want to see Jason Momoa as God of the Sea! Also, he could wear a Hawaiian shirt, chill and vibe, and wouldn’t have to go through the dangerous process of having abs on screen, so it would be great for him!

Zeus

GAH! Just... let me see Jeff Bridges as the King of the Gods! Look at him! I may know him as the Dude, the mentor from the Giver, and Kevin Flynn, but I would love to see him as an uber serious god who’s pissed because some kid stole his lightning bolt (we kinda saw that in the Giver and when Kevin Flynn Saw Some Things in Tron: Legacy, but I would like to see more).

Athena

I love Stephanie Beatriz, and it would be really cool to see her as the Goddess of Wisdom who does not approve of Percy, especially when it comes to her daughter. If not her, then I definitely would recommend Adria Arjona. In fact, now that I think about it, I would love to see her as Athena over Stephanie (but I love them both).

Hermes

I really think Tyler James Williams would be a cool Hermes. Also his ending in Whiskey Cavalier (where he presumably died or was kidnapped but we don’t know because it got cancelled) shows he deserves better. I would love to see him in this role!

Apollo

Will Smith would be an awesome Apollo! That scene from “The Titan’s Curse” where Apollo is driving his car across the horizon? I just see Will Smith. He would be so much fun!

Artemis

I just remember that in most scenes Artemis is portrayed as a young girl, about the same age as her Hunters. When I thought of that, all I saw was Erin Kellyman from her role as Enfys Nest in Solo. I would love to see her as Artemis!

Hera

I love Octavia Spencer and she serves “Queen of the gods” vibes at all times. I’m here for it!

Ares

Gonna be honest, this was my brother’s suggestion but I think Terry Crews would be a pretty cool Ares. I’m just curious about how he would pull of the biker vibe...

Aphrodite

I know in the book it says her appearance is always changing and I honestly do not have the strength to assign what actors would make a good Aphrodite so we’re just gonna skip this one.

Hephaestus

I love The Rock, and I would be happy to see him in any role in this series, but my brother suggested Hephaestus and I think it’s a pretty cool idea.

Aunty Em/Medusa

Honestly every time I thought about Medusa, I just thought of the White Witch lady from Narnia, so Tilda Swinton it is.

Mrs. Dodds

I honestly have no idea. For some reason, I can’t think of an actress that can pull off a southern accent that matches my image of Mrs. Dodds. So.....we’ll just move on.

Crusty

Ned Dennehy played Hastur in “Good Omens”, and he did such a good job of making my skin crawl. Those vibes are needed for Crusty the bed seller/ apparent child torturer.

Charon

This is another pull from “Good Omens” but Brian Cox did such an amazing job as Death! His voice just mixed with how I thought the ferryman of the Underworld, so bring him back for another death-related role!

And finally...

Kronos

Okay, so my brother made a suggestion of Andy Serkis as Kronos (since he is mainly just a voice character and ends up taking Luke’s form in the books if I remember right), and I could definitely see that! He voiced Snoke in Star Wars, and was the crazy white villain in Black Panther, but also (because I’m a total nostalgic) I just thought of someone who I could see voicing Kronos that I love so much....

BRUCE BOXLEITNER! For those who don’t know him, he’s mainly known as the voice of Tron in literally ANYTHING in the Tron franchise. He’s got this deep voice that would work so well for Kronos. Also, I miss seeing him in things that I deeply enjoy. Miss you king.

And that’s about it! Thanks for joining my excited rant. 

#percy jackson and the olympians #pjo fancast #most of these are also self indulgent lol but that's the point of fancast #I should probably sleep because I am now reaching silly tired

[thisbentleyplaysqueen]

Okay so I’m trying to write two chapter for the The Angel, The Demon and the Not-So-Friendly Ghost but all I can think of is Percy Jackson so...does anyone want to hear about my fan cast for the Disney + series?

#really only did the adults because i dont lnow any kids but... #let me know