#obligatory good omens mentions

[koifishanonymous]

hi sorry if im bothering u lmao but what are ur opinions on ofmd2 so far?? also what do u think will happen in ep8?? ik i already asked u a couple weeks ago but sm stuff happened in the season after that + i'm procrastinating a bunch of work i have to do:)

don’t worry youre not a bother! i love talking about shows i like so feel free to ask anytime :) plus this is an excuse for me to procrastinate as well lmaooo

i’m really enjoying this season, to see a show be so unabashedly and explicitly be queer, i ESPECIALLY loved calypso’s birthday for the izzy development and the drag and STEDE KILLING NEDLOW FOR INSULTING ED??? and seeing stede slam ed onto the wall is giving me MAJOR good omens s3 visions (leave it to me to make everything about good omens but…. aziraphale slamming crowley into a wall?? telling him to stop being so passive aggressive and then subtly asking if he can go for the kiss?? and then he does?? i see it so clearly)

AND ZHENG AND OLU !!!! episode 8 was great and seeing stede really be happy as a pirate in his infamy was great, but ngl i saw the miscommunication conflict coming a mile away (again, good omens has taught me well) though i do not doubt that they will be together by the end of the season. curious to see how they will wrap it all in only one episode though, i do think they’re aiming for a third season.

i love love love love the speech anachronisms they’re going for this season, it’s artistic liberty done right. usually people try to hide or mask the more inaccurate parts of their works, so seeing a show embrace them is so fun and it works SO WELL (i did i for the lolz + izzy singing a 1940s song are my favourites)

in any case, pretending ofmd is good omens au is my coping mechanism. i swear i’m still sane. what do you think?

[mbat]

i checked back in on dan and phil because people said they were uploading to their gaming channel again and i havent watched them in years really and i still have good omens brainrot going on so you can imagine that im just mixing old and new fixations and making the obvious connection here

that connection being crowley dan and aziraphale phil. i just had to say that

[wispcherry]

that was the most beautiful thing i could have witnessed. i will now lie down on the floor and feel empty for two years

[bluberryfields]

"David is very easy to fall in love with." - Michael Sheen

Hi. How are you? Good, I hope. Okay, so can we talk about just how fucking beautiful David Tennant is? And by “we” I mean “I” and by “talk” I mean “babble incoherently into the void”? Great! I’ll attempt to impose a bit of organization on this just to satisfy my pathological need to inflict structure on words (thanks college/job/brain), but I can’t promise much. Also, there will be A LOT of pictures and gifs. (you’re welcome?)

And this isn’t just because I am deep in the bottomless well of Good Omens fandom and that Crowley is basically the most breathtaking creature that has ever existed. Well, not just because of that.

*cue Aziraphale's "good lord" from 1793*

ANYWAY, like a lot of people, I became a fan of (i.e., fell deeply and irrevocably in love with) DT during his run as the 10th Doctor. He was young and bright and full of just about everything – joy, sorrow, wit – making him incredibly watchable. His look was also so charming: big bouncy rooster comb of hair, absurdly cheeky smile, expressive-as-fuck eyes and eyebrows, and a tall, lanky form that seemed to be made of rubber and the kind of granulated sugar that could only be found in candy from the 90s that are now banned in all first- and second-world countries.

So yeah, I was super into him and his Doctor’s adventures. And I continued to watch him in other projects and still swoon (looking at you, slutty Hamlet)

even at characters where that was not the desired reaction (fuck you, Kilgrave, you delicious monster).

I would also always become a bit (a lot) weak in the knees at his voice regardless of which accent he took on, though always preferring him doing any Scottish brogue because of fucking course.

Roll that tongue, you sexy beast.

But what I want to get into today is just how incredible he looks in the year of 2023.

He’s 52 years old and I am somehow even more attracted to him. Maybe it’s because I am myself older, and my tastes have matured alongside? I certainly do enjoy gray hair way more than I did 10 years ago.

He’s aged incredibly well, probably a combination of good genes and good health, and he’s clearly not clinging to the Hollywood idea of “youth”.

(insert obligatory grumble about the double standards of men being praised for aging and women being demonized…the potentially problematic nature of the term “aging well” in general…acknowledge this with my enlightened brain but ignore this with my slutty heart…fuck the patriarchy, etc. etc.)

He’s still tall and skinny, even gangly at times, all long arms and legs that can move in impossible directions with unfathomable grace.

His face is leaner, that incredible bone structure creating sharper edges that draw the eye. Speaking of the face, he’s got these creases on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes and mouth that are evidence of time spent well: smiling, laughing, living. Makes you want to trace your fingertips along each one.

Oh god that smile? Good lord. It’s weapons grade charm that can also be quite intimidating. Sweet, humble, silly, scary…full spectrum of options here! His shark smile is the definition of “irresistible” in my Dictionary of Delicious Dudes.

I am both proud of and grossed out by my own word choice.

Continuing with that face...the hawkish nose, the dimples you want to drown in, the big eyes, those motherfucking eyebrows...

I could seriously write a whole essay about those eyebrows, but I already give my therapist enough to worry about.

Oh those eyes. “Piercing” is a term usually reserved for blue eyes, but I would argue it applies to DT’s bottomless chocolate pools in that they slice through my heart every damn time.

Honorable mention does go to those Crowley snake eyes because they could have been distracting and diminishing to his overall look, but they absolutely are not.

Such a pretty shade of yellow.

Random tangent to swoon about his hands. For whatever reason, I like checking out a man’s hands, and DT’s got a set that drives me wild. I can’t even really explain why, but I just really like the way he articulates with them. Crowley is a perfect example, what with the miracle snaps, caressing globes, and holding whisky glasses. Yum.

Delicious demon digits

Fresh tangent: How does this fucker look good clean shaven, with stubble, and a goddamn beard? How is that allowed?

He's got a face that makes me wanna take up sculpting

Further, how is his fucking neck so hot? Like, seriously, show me the math. I can’t stop staring at it. And when it’s cloaked in a turtleneck? Please, sir, may I have some more?

Fuuuuuuuck

With no segue whatsoever, I am absolutely obsessed with his hair, across all contexts. Big, bold, blood-red Crowley coifs (especially in Season 2)? Check.

Proper gentleman side part? Check.

Side shave with cartoonishy springy 14th Doctor shock? Check.

Lockdown locks with and without headband? Check!

It’s a goddamn buffet of delicious options.

Oh damn speaking of that 14th Doctor look? Good fucking Christ on a buttery Ritz cracker. The whole DT collection is on display: the hair, the eyes, the bone structure, the smile, the clothes, and even the glasses!

To quote Pam on Archer, “I swear to god, you could drown a toddler in my panties right now! I mean, not that you would.”

Now that you (I) mention the clothes, I never cease to marvel at how he can wear pretty much anything and look amazing. Stripes, patterns, wild colors, etc. He just always looks…not exactly comfortable, but sort of at ease like the clothes were created with him in mind. And this goes across the spectrum of Casual to Costume to Promotional (e.g., interviews and premieres).

They are almost illegally cute together

We all know by now how ridiculously tight those Crowley pants are and how it influenced his signature serpentine swagger (thank you, Costume department, you’re the real heroes). That said, he and those slinky hips still looks so incredibly natural in them like they came from his actual closet.

Stupid sexy snek

And he pulls off the look of more ridiculous stuff like full Shakespearean costumes or that sad gray-hoodie-black-shorts-and-Wellington-boots combo from the first season of Staged. He somehow gives off the air of “whatever, they’re just clothes, man” while also looking like a damn model.

Georgia is a very lucky woman

Final thoughts: I know DT dislikes talking about how people think he’s so attractive because I’m sure it feels a bit icky if you just want to live your life and do your job. But my guy also clearly understands that he’s not some ghoul who has succeeded on incredible personality and acting chops alone. So, that said, maybe he'll forgive me for posting such a long, rambling, ode to him?

[ilovedthestars]

and also just. the way ambiguity in relationships is assumed to be romantic, too. see, i wrote that whole post a while back about how I loved ambiguous fictional relationships, with deep devotion but no clear label as to the type of relationship. i called it love as in significance--that's where my tag comes from. love as in being important to someone, in whatever form that takes.

and what I said then about how this applies to romance still applies--when I'm reading about a fictional romance, I'll be much more engaged with one that feels built on that foundation of significance than one that isn't. flirting, the trappings of modern courtship, those feel empty to me without the feeling that these characters already matter to each other. (this is why in real life I'm so perplexed by things like dating apps, or people who actively seek out romance with strangers--I just personally can't fathom the idea of wanting that kind of closeness with someone you don't already know and care for.)

but in regards to ambiguity....I feel like I've been burned a little. I loved ambiguity because it meant you could take many things away from it. other people could see romance, but I could see the kind of deeply devoted platonic relationship that, let's be honest, is incredibly rare in fiction. but I'm starting to feel frustrated by the way ambiguity is assumed to be romance, without an explicit statement that it's not. (I've joked about the obligatory "no hetero" moments that have to be inserted into the start of a piece of media that has a male and a female protagonist with any kind of relationship other than romance--the "not with those lips" moment in the D&D movie, for example. It's funny, and i appreciate it being made very clear, but it's kind of sad that it has to be.)

and...okay, there's an elephant in the room that i really should acknowledge. I was talking about it in that first post, but I made a point of never mentioning it, although i'm sure plenty of people guessed.

I haven't watched Good Omens season two. I'm not sure if I'm ever going to. When I first wrote about my love for ambiguous relationships back in February of 2023, Aziraphale and Crowley were at the top of my list. When I wrote about how ambiguity left room for anyone to see themselves represented, and how i wished that a little more space was left for aro voices, I was talking about them. I was frustrated by people who saw that ambiguity as "queerbaiting"--didn't they see that the story was already queer, that Aziraphale and Crowley cared so deeply for each other, and whether they kissed or not wouldn't change anything?

But they did kiss. And it did change something. I don't feel like there's a place left for me anymore. And there's social pressure to celebrate, to be happy for another canon queer love story on TV, and god I'd love to celebrate that, but I can't help but feel a little betrayed by a story that I thought would leave space for me.

(and yes, a kiss doesn't have to mean romance--but in this, in hollywood, it's assumed to. the creators and the audience both understand it as such, unless someone stops to say no, we're friends who kiss each other the mouth, we're subverting your expectations. because the expectations are inescapable.)

I've been trying to give myself the space to feel upset about this. To remember that aro stories are queer stories too. And I think I'm raising my standards. I'll take ambiguity--I'll take any carved-out space I can find. But I'm not sure I trust it anymore. I want explicitly platonic relationships with the level of love and devotion and care usually reserved for romance. I want to read and watch and listen to stories about people who are significant to each other without romance even being in the picture. I want love that isn't synonymous with romance. I'm going to stop feeling like I have to settle for anything less.

[fearandhatred]

@knifeforkspooncup wanted angst fics so here's a rec list from the very few fanfics i have had time to read lmaoo. some of these are in my other rec list but that was a shorter and more general one so i'll put them here again

mourning doves by sleepyimpulse (22k words, 7 chapters)

“I’m sorry,” he registered himself saying between heaving sobs. “I’m so sorry, Crowley, I’m so sorry. Forgive me, please, please forgive me.” He hadn’t meant to say it like that, he knew the words were all wrong (he would never find the right ones). But the pain was coming at him in every direction and something, something had to give, and so he clung to Crowley like a life preserver. Crowley bent his body over Aziraphale’s and slowly, surely, pressed a kiss to his bloodied forehead. “I can’t,” he whispered, and Aziraphale went unconscious. (Aziraphale falls, post season 2)

i've recced this before and i'll do it again! this is my very first bookmarked gomens fic and it's so delicious. perfect amount of angst and such a thoughtful exploration of forgiveness

Ouroboros by midnightdragons (7k words, 1 chapter)

“Oh.” Muriel had frowned again, their voice confused. “Then . . . if they were special, why did he leave them?” Crowley thought that his expression must have spoken louder than any words ever could have, because Muriel had rushed to change the subject, and they hadn’t mentioned Aziraphale after that. An obligatory ‘Crowley coping terribly and Aziraphale coming to his senses’ fic because I finally watched s2 and I have a lot of Feelings (ft. Crowley being a sort-of parent to Muriel, sort-of friends with Nina and Maggie, and drinking enough alcohol to kill at least an entire civilization)

it is not a good omens angst rec list without a crowley breaking down post-season 2 fic :) and this is that fic. she is that girl

Zmija by Himitsu_no (3k words, 4 chapters)

Aziraphale would laugh and his fingers find their way into the red locks with practiced ease, and he'd bend to kiss the top of his head. "Did they do that, though? The evil deeds." Crowley would smile despite himself, eyes closed and leaning into the caress. "About a dozen, maybe. The rest were just... ordinary humans doing ordinary stuff." There'd be a long pause in which the angel would take it all in, and the demon would replay many of it in his mind with unease. Then Aziraphale would speak again, voice barely a whisper, "How long were you in Mesopotamia after the flood, my love?"

if u asked me to talk about this fic i would say 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 bc oh this hurt. idk if it's just me though because characters with kids is my sore spot lmao i have read this fic once and never again. gorgeous beautiful poetic heartbreaking don't even talk to me

Diffusing Lights, Confusing Times by snek_of_eden (15k words, 3 chapters)

Aziraphale pulled the door open slowly and stood in the entranceway. He wore an old-fashioned nightgown that was creamy in colour, and his eyes were cloudy with sleep. “Crowley…” He inhaled sharply when a drop of blood dripped on his bare foot, and Crowley winced. “Are you alright? Oh Heavens, are you bleeding?” Crowley mustered up a smile. He took a step forward, and his head began to spin. “Hey, Angel.” Then he stumbled into Aziraphale’s arms and everything started to turn fuzzy. *** Hell is terrible and Crowley turns to Aziraphale when he has nowhere left to go

basically what it says in the summary! hurt crowley and aziraphale comforts him. crowley is sad but aziraphale is also sad. angst and communication!! i don't usually read a lot of physical hurt/comfort but this is so good

when i knew love’s perfect ache by sugarskulled (1.8k words, 1 chapter)

A demon can't touch that which has been made holy by God. Crowley knows this well as anyone. And Aziraphale? Aziraphale is so holy it burns.

this is quite possibly my favourite good omens fic of all time i think about it so often bro. i love when problems don't just resolve themselves but they make it work. the angst is so good in both the fic itself and in the future implications of it (why does this sound like i'm writing a research paper)

something sweet and blue by perilit (7.2k words, 4 chapters)

Crowley’s not breathing. They don’t technically need to, but the lack of it is so jarring that for a minute, Aziraphale just stands there and trembles, overwhelmed. Lord, what have I done? Aziraphale returns from Heaven after a year away, and discovers Crowley has all but given up. Before he can put things to rights, he’ll have to coax Crowley back to living.

what? you want another post-season 2 crowley breakdown? fantastic. this is that but dialed up to 11. this is the kind of self-indulgent fic i search for because we will never see it in canon and it hurts so good

Haunted By Something Still Alive by WaitingToBeBroken (4k words, 1 chapter)

Aziraphale needs Crowley's help with raising the reincarnation of Jesus. Problem is, Crowley won't even look at him.

what's that? you want ANOTHER- ok no this isn't a crowley breakdown but it's him having to deal with aziraphale being back and the journey they take together. ft. nanny crowley!!!!!!! so many gorgeous moments in this

that concludes the angst recs for now. thank u for coming

[just-nd-queer-things]

When you no longer practice the Xtian faith, but talking with your equally agnostic partner about the finer points of the Xtian bible scratch that former special interest itch in a satisfying way anyway

And every now and then you read a paragraph and you go “ok it is kind of cool, not for me anymore but still kind of cool”

It also helps you understand many different tropes in fiction and you love having plot points hit a little more in the heart when it’s Something You Recognise (obligatory Good Omens mention)

And you look back and you’re like, how much of loving worship music and reading the Bible was just a subsection of our music and reading special interest?

I think being able to look back at All That in this neutralish positive-ish manner is a little evidence to that I successfully processed some of That Shit I guess and that’s always nice

[semiramis-audron]

When your team is fucking weirdos, hated by the fandoms, with half of them involved in gay drama and you're just trying to stay in your lane...

Aka my collection of problematic Metafaves

I thought about actually drawing them all, but i dont think i would ever manage...

Legend under the Cut (links to character pages provided, open at own risk for spoilers)

Enoch (Metatron) from El Shaddai Ascencion of the Metatron (both video game and tie in Mangas, the game is fucking underappreciated!)

Metatron from Dogma (he is sarcastic baby)

Metatron from Good Omens (TV Series) (innocent until proven guilty, the book one looked kinda like #15)

Metatron from Supernatural (unfortunately proven guilty, because they copied #9's homework)

Metatron from 7 Heavenly Virtues Anime ("Nanatsu no Bitoku" kinda NSFW, big tiddy anime )

Metatron from Shin Megami Tensei video game series (obligatory, cause first mayor video game appearance)

Metatron (Enoch, Sean Christian) from Devils and Realists Manga ( "Makai Ouji" sad little meow meow, reminder to always read job descriptions )

Metatron from Omniscient Readers Viewpoint Webnovel (I have not collected enough spoons to read all of it)

Metatron (Enoch) from His Dark Materials Novels (+TV) (If you think his ego is big, you should see his dick. He's thinking with it. )

Metatron from Dear Door Webtoon Manhwa (Yeah... I'm not gonna link this one. The story and art is amazing, but there is also so much gore and even more hardcore gay sex in like every single chapter. Google it and read it yourself, but... Dead Dove, do not eat - unless you're into that or are a fast scroller )

Metatron from Spawn Comic Series (She's so pretty, and the Spawn comics are just visually cool)

Metatron (one of several forms) from the Puzzle&Dragon Games (They are so pretty... acursed Gatcha games!)

Metatron from Angel Sanctuary (nostalgia, he did nothing wrong, baby with evil twin)

Metatron from Dating Game Miraclr (He has red hair and his Storyline is... just Metatron, just Metatron...)

Metatron ( Eternity (Earth-TRN781) ) from the Marvel Comics (Obligatory cause marvel is everywhere and I put the Spawn one)

Im aware there's some more in various other gatcha games but those usually dont have any story to them... and the other animes, im not yet familar with (or role is too minor)...

Collection is still open if anyone has some Metatron's to drop off...

Honorary Mention:

[bonefall]

hows the dotc read goin. got any small ideas just from how far you've gotten?

Here's a thought jumble, fresh and hot for you like delicious spaghetti

I am more committed than ever to ShadowClan being the second Clan to form.

Tall Shadow needs a leadership buff; she is really not a well characterized leader.

I like her traits being "slow to trust" and "set in her ways". She needs to be more assertive and have a stronger role in group arguments.

I want people to occasionally call her a tyrant and display this as something she is sensitive about.

Gray Wing should not be this oblivious

Bumble and Turtle are going to be canonical mates; Turtle has a harder time joining because of this.

Obligatory mention that Jagged Peak dies in book 1

Hate how Wind and Gorse have to beg to be let into this stupid clan. Let Wind be the angry Moorlord she deserves to be.

I think I will have Bright Storm survive long enough for Thunder Storm to remember her.

Lightning Tail and Acorn Fur need name updates... Lightning Cry is a gnarly name. Acorn Swoop? My brain keeps going "ACORN SWEEP" lmao

I kinda like the idea of putting Shattered Ice and Jackdaw's Cry together though, as more than friends. Family or perhaps mates.

Maybe I'll actually make Shatter into Jackdaw's dad or even a cousin. A cousin is a pretty unique role.

Might woman beam Shatter to have a grumpy girl in ShadowClan. I like the idea of a very large, argumentative, stinky badger woman lmao

Thunder Storm sees Gray as his dad. He is encouraged to be curious about SkyClan by wanting to know more about his biodad and to see what he can learn from him

What he learns is that SkyClan is Not Good.

He should come back just after Tall Shadow exiles Bumble when Turtle dies

"You threw out the mother of three kits?? Because her wife died??? Gray Wing you let this happen?"

"...she doesn't hunt, Thunder Storm... Tall Shadow did what she thought was best--"

"Her best is TRASH. I didn't think I'd come home to a second CLEAR SKY"

Goes to find Bumble, accompanied by his young allies that waited for him. Cue a fight in SkyClan's forest as they rush in to intercept Bumble's mauling, causing a huge skirmish between Shadow's Clan cats and Sky's Clan cats.

Gray Wing jumps in to show a character moment, having a small realization that he was wrong and Bumble needs protecting

This moment either is the second they split from Shadow, or the step before it.

I'm thinking it would be cool if a storm rolled in at this exact moment, sent a tree tumbling, and it made a line between Gray and Thunder vs Clear Sky.

Some kinda prophecy or omen; "Only a storm can move the border."

Descisive ThunderClan victory; this patch of forest is now theirs

Ideas. Fragments. Still working on it all.

[herhighness-thequeenofhearts]

Obligatory spoiler warning for Good Omens S2.

Let’s have a chat about The Coffee Theory.

(don’t leave yet, it’s not what you think)

I actually have a little mini “coffee theory” of my own, but instead of Angel Brainwash Juice, The Metatron is serving up some Grade A manipulation.

Another person on TikTok and I briefly touched on the coffee possibly being kind of a “cult recruitment thing”, like getting someone to hold your pen. Get them saying “yes” to small things, so they’re primed to say “yes” to big things. And while I definitely think that’s part of it, I actually want to take that one step further, because I think it’s very notable that the Metatron chooses to serve Aziraphale coffee.

Now, I could be forgetting a scene (in which case this theory kinda crumbles 😅); I’ll need to go back and check. But I can’t recall a single instance of Aziraphale choosing to drink coffee on his own. Aziraphale (an angel after my own heart) is a tea and cocoa enjoyer. The only time he arguably comes close to getting coffee for himself is when Crowley orders his 6 shots of espresso, and Aziraphale expresses interest.

But, he doesn’t end up going with coffee. He gets the eccles cakes because they “calm people down” (probably also because he has a sweet tooth). He wanted something soothing, cozy, and sweet. And what else is considered soothing, cozy, and sweet? Tea and cocoa. That’s what Aziraphale likes, that’s what brings him comfort in a difficult moment, something soothing, cozy, and sweet.

So let’s circle back to the coffee. Something I find worth noting is that Metatron doesn’t just order plain black coffee, or even coffee with cream. He orders an oat milk latte with almond syrup. Something with a bit of sweetness to it (which Aziraphale likes), but something that is most definitely coffee, and therefore wrong. Not what Aziraphale likes.

Now, we could give Metatron the benefit of the doubt, he probably just didn’t know what Aziraphale likes to eat and drink. Except that not five minutes later, he mentions “observing” Aziraphale and Crowley’s history together. He’s seen all of the restaurant dates, the nightcaps, everything. So he almost definitely knows what Aziraphale likes.

There’s also the weird behavior from both Aziraphale and The Metatron in “the coffee scene”. Aziraphale is visibly unenthusiastic about the coffee, but Metatron is still insistent that he drinks it anyway (which is probably how a lot of people landed on “there’s something in the coffee”).

So, let me finally arrive at the point: I don’t think that the coffee was full of Angel Brainwash Juice, but the coffee is an important detail, considering how much attention they put on it. I think that the coffee is partially a “recruitment tactic” as I mentioned earlier, and partially meant to put Aziraphale in his place. He likes tea and cocoa, and he was served coffee by someone who definitely has the knowledge that coffee isn’t what Aziraphale prefers. I think that the coffee was essentially The Metatron looking Aziraphale dead in the eyes and saying, “you’ll take what I give you, you’ll shut up, and you’ll like it”.

And, well; Aziraphale does shut up and take it (both the coffee, and Heaven’s manipulation) even if he doesn’t like it. So by the time he and Crowley are finally poised to have their moment, Aziraphale has lost a lot of the progress we’ve seen him make and is right back under Let-Heaven-Walk-All-Over-Me-Mode. Right back to the same angel who let Gabriel, Micheal, Uriel, Sandalphon, and Metatron push him around in Season 1.

I think I like this theory better than the Coffee Theory because it doesn’t remove Aziraphale’s agency and responsibility for his own actions via Angel Brainwashing, but it also takes into account Heaven’s manipulation and Aziraphale’s trauma.

[stupidusernamepolicy]

tv tag game

— list 8 shows for your followers to get to know you better. tagged by beloved mootie @michaelmandog

1.Good Omens

This is such a feel-good show for me and cleaning out my drafts made me remember how much I love it. Also a reminder that I need to finish Staged. The friendship between the authors and the ways it impacted the book and show is so important to me...

2. Breaking Bad / Better Call Saul

"oh watch it it's the best show ever" "yeah yeah sure" and then... Meth show for middle aged dads sent me on a *checks calendar* FIVE MONTH FIXATION? I need to be euthanized. Also Michael Mando. That's all.

3.Final Space

SHINED SO BRIGHT AND GONE TOO SOON. This was THE underdog adult animation and though I've separated myself from it a lot it's still one of the best out there. Space fantasy dramedy about a convict out in space that is a testament to all that adult animation can be, but often isn't. If you can stand a bit of exec-meddling awkward humor, this one is the hardest WATCH NOW on this list. Also, catboy above voiced by Steven Yeun and he goes so hard.

4.Invincible

Continuing on the thread of amazing adult animation with a much more popular entry, this is an adaptation that is so far so much better than the source material. I stayed up til 5 am binging this. It has 4 things I love: great animation, (comic) trope subversion, GORE, and Steven Yeun (again!)

5.Futurama

This show is older than me, and I never watched it growing up, yet it still feels like home whenever I watch it. If I need to cheer up and have my TV on, this is the clear choice. It's so nostalgic and has so much heart while also being really, really fucking funny.

7.Gravity Falls

Similar to Futurama: another comfort show!! It brings back so many memories, even though I watched it after its original run. One of the rare things I own official merch of (I loved it enough to pay for shipping from the US)

7.Mob Psycho 100

Obligatory singular Anime entry. This is the one anime I'd recommend to non anime watchers, as it subverts a lot of typically annoying anime tropes and is a rare entry where the adaptation is as good if not better than the source material, and yet it's AMAZING because it OOZES with love of the source material! I'm definitely biased because it's the kind of story my middle school self needed, and that my current young-adult self... also needed. It's about growing up, about how people need other people, and it rewired my brain.

8.Rise Of The TMNT

JUST LIKE FINAL SPACE, SHINED TOO BRIGHT AND GONE ENTIRELY TOO SOON!! I was a HUGE fan of 2003 series when I was a kid and this one completely reignited my love for TMNT. The animation is poppy and dynamic and tastefully stylized, the story goes from monster of the week to the absolute insanity that is the netflix movie, and it has the kind of personality that a reboot of such an old series needs and benefits from (partially also ended up being its undoing because people hate fun). Like Final Space, if you're not averse to a little cringe humor aimed at a younger generation, I have 2 words for you: MUST! WATCH!!

HONORABLE MENTIONS BECAUSE ITS HARD TO PICK

Arcane! because all that can be said about it has already been said about it. But it is fantastic and if you have not watched it yet because "its league of legends ew" and "its a cartoon" quit being a boob and go watch it.

Mrkomir Prvi! Because it's a really funny sitcom set in medieval Croatia, and it's only here because it's incredibly obscure on a global level, but it's really the kind of original TV I love to see and rarely do. They did a pandemic episode in which they called the diseased "influenzers", enough said.

Tagging! @its-me-ej, @djcranberry, @hellomingo, @lemonykleonella, @mediasploshion and @bamsara(long time no talk!! i hope this isnt a jumpscare)

No pressure, and happy reminiscing >:)

[maplesunflowers]

🍇

🍇 - Would feed ducks by the lake with you

Obligatory Good Omens reference because feeding ducks has been mentioned 😂

[marsupials-of-mars]

Things that are going to have to be in Good Omens S3

There's no way we don't see Crowley's fall and/or the immediate aftermath. We know he was an angel, we know he doesn't seem to like to talk about it, that he's a bit unclear on why the fuck it seemed like a fair thing for mom (our Lord in heaven) to do. And now we've seen that Aziraphale knew him as an angel, if briefly, but maybe doesn't remember? Since he doesn't mention it and seems to see Crowley as just some demon when he meets him in Eden. and yes the fall will definitely hurt to watch. And it might be the opening, since their first meeting was the opening of S2.

Every animatic has the obligatory Crowley binge drinking and being sad. I feel like he will not be fully sober for a large part of the season. Or at least the first episode.

Lots of people have made things about Crowley being taken in by Nina and Maggie to some extent. I feel like this will happen out of guilt, pity, and likely that non-sober depressed Crowley will play a part in this pity. I imagine it will be quite hard to watch, for the audience and for the two women. Maybe Maggie will be more doting and lenient while Nina will try to get him to move on, get him on his feet and moving. They would be an easy subplot, Nina being too unsympathetic and Maggie being too much so. That's classic.

Anyway I just needed to ramble.

[generation-x-men]

Left and Right

Somewhere on here is a post about Aziraphale and Crowley mostly occupying the same on-screen position relative to one another (unfortunately I didn’t save it).

This also seems to hold true when Professor X and Magneto play chess.

A trope emerges:

‘Good but tortured by circumstance and occasionally gets it wrong’ - place character on the left.

‘Bad but has a point, with a flair for the ridiculously over-dramatic’ - place character on the right.

Then real life intervenes and mixes up the good-or-bad moral compass to the point where the only option is to run away to a cottage in Sussex or an eco-friendly island-based commune.

In the end, only one of these pairs really switches places:

The other one kind of does but only because of spoiler-alert type plot twist...

[loverhymeswith]

Call It What You Want | Rick Flag x F!Reader

Pairing: Rick Flag x F!Reader

Summary: Thank you Anon for this awesome prompt. I've put a bit of a twist on this request and I've purposely redacted part of the prompt to keep the element of surprise!

Warnings: +18 only. Smut, language, drinking.

Word Count: 5,692 words

A/N: Thank you to @a-reader-and-a-writer for beta reading and for helping me with the meet-cutes along with @babblydrabbly <3 Also thank you to @yespolkadotkitty for indulging me as I worked on the smut!

Monday August 5th

Sunlight creeps through the small gap in the curtains and bathes the room in a warm orange glow. Beneath the sheets you stretch indulgently. There’s something to be said for waking up in your own bed. Especially considering you’ve been parted from it for the last three months.

Even without the buzz of an alarm, years of habit see you rising before seven am. It might not be the lie-in you were hoping for, but it’s nice to know that you can go about your business today at a leisurely pace.

Although this is your last day of leave before starting your new job, it also happens to be the first day off you’ve had entirely to yourself in a very long time. The past two weeks you’ve been away visiting family. Stressful though that might have been, it was also a rare opportunity to see them after all the time you’ve spent overseas recently.

By the time you’ve showered and dressed, your obligatory caffeine fix is well overdue, but having been away for so long, your cupboards are shamefully bare. It looks like you're heading out for the morning. Not only can you stock up on supplies, but maybe you can treat yourself to a coffee along the way.

It’s a beautiful summer morning, so you leave the car at home and take the short journey into town by foot. It gives you the chance to appreciate the feeling of the ground beneath your feet and the warm sun kissing your skin. Such is the nature of your work that you never really know where you’re going to be from one day to the next, so it's important to grab moments of normality like this whenever you can get them.

When you reach the high street, your go-to coffee shop is packed with an unexpected mid-morning rush. While you’re in no particular hurry, you don’t feel inclined to wait in line behind the gaggle of harried office workers. Besides, there’s another place you’ve spotted a block away that never seems busy and it seems like a good day to try something new.

Despite the bright sunshine outside, the unassuming café is unexpectedly dark when you enter, illuminated only by the warm glow of antique looking lamps fixed haphazardly to the walls. It feels very much like you’ve wandered onto the set of a creepy horror film. Not to mention, the place is deserted.

A weathered old woman wearing a yellowing apron and a permanent scowl stands behind the counter, rapping her fingernails against the wood. Behind her, a handwritten sign declares ‘No Refills. No Refunds.’

A promising omen, you think. Perhaps you should have been a little more discerning.

“What do you want?” She barks out impatiently, and you realise you’ve been daydreaming.

“Just a flat white to go, please.” You doubt there’s any chance of a skimmed hazelnut latte and you’d like to get out of here sooner rather than later.

The woman huffs out an indignant sigh, as if she can’t quite believe the audacity of a customer actually wanting to place an order. Only after swiping your card far more viciously than is necessary does she turn around and begin preparing your drink.

No wonder this place is empty.

As you wait, wondering if you should have just sucked it up and queued for Starbucks, the shop door chimes open. Surprised that someone else has been brave enough to enter, you spare a glance over your shoulder. You’re not sure what you’re expecting to find – Gollum, perhaps?- but it certainly isn’t the tall, broad man in the navy windbreaker and faded jeans.

Adjusting the khaki ball cap that covers most of his dark blonde hair, the man comes to stand beside you, towering over you by almost a foot. The barista - although you are loathed to give her such a title – returns to the counter and addresses him in the same brittle manner. At least it’s not just you she’s taken such a disliking to.

If the man is taken aback by her rudeness, he doesn’t let it show, simply placing his order in a pleasantly deep and rumbling southern drawl.

“Kinda wish I’d queued for Starbucks now,” he mutters once the woman is out of earshot, precisely echoing your own thoughts. It takes a beat for you to realise that by default he must be talking to you. The shop is otherwise vacant, after all.

Raising your head to get a better look at your fellow customer, your eyes land on a handsome face, clean-shaven but for the faintest shadow of stubble across a strong, angular jawline. A pair of intense hazel eyes gaze down upon you and his inviting looking mouth quirks up into a faint smile.

“Sorry, rude of me to assume you don’t come here every day." A fleeting glimmer of panic passes over his features. “You don’t, do you?”

“No,” you assure him with an amused smile. “It’s a first for me, too.”

He nods, looking relieved not to have offended you. Before the conversation can continue, an angry buzzing sounds from his general direction. He digs a large hand into the pocket of his well-fitting jeans and pulls out his cell phone. Frowning at whatever he finds on the screen, he swipes to reject the call and stuffs it back in his pocket.

Realising that you’ve been staring, you quickly avert your attention back to the counter. While you’re single and most definitely not looking to mingle for the time being, you can certainly still appreciate the appeal of an attractive man, and you have to admit that this guy is good looking. Strikingly so, in fact.

There's no chance to lose yourself to fantasies though, because a plain white take-out cup is soon thrust unceremoniously on the counter before you. You thank the woman far more politely than she deserves and make your way out of the shop, leaving the man to face the wrath of the barista alone.

You’ve barely made it out the door when you bring the cup to your lips, ready for that sweet, sweet hit of caffeine, only to realise something is wrong. You can tell from the scent alone, strong and bitter, that this is not what you ordered. Sure enough, when you peel off the plastic lid you are greeted by the sight of a black coffee. Not a hint of cream to be seen.

In the past you might have just made do, anything to avoid confrontation. But you are no longer the pushover that your ex so charmingly proclaimed you to be, not to mention the fact that you can't stand black coffee, so you square your shoulders and march straight back inside.

Unfortunately, just as you are entering, the other customer is attempting to exit and you narrowly avoid spilling hot coffee all over his broad chest.

“Woah, easy there darlin’. Didn’t think you’d be in such a rush to return.”

It only takes a fleeting glimpse of his soft smile for you to feel a flutter stirring in your chest. Damn it, he really is very good looking.

Offering an awkward smile of your own, you tap the offending item in your hand. “She gave me the wrong order.”

He opens the lid of his cup and peers inside, a grimace rapidly marring his handsome features. “Guess that makes two of us. Gonna go out on limb here and assume this is yours.” He holds out his cup to you and sure enough, he appears to have your flat white.

“Don’t know how you can drink it with all that milk and sugar crap,” he remarks, calloused fingers brushing against your skin as you exchange cups.

“Guess it’s lucky for you I noticed then. Did you see the sign-”

“No refills or refunds,” he recites, shaking his head. “Yeah, let’s never do that again. Not gonna lie, I was worried after you left that she might try lockin’ me up in her basement or somethin’.”

“I’m sure you could have handled it.” Your eyes subtly rake over his impressive frame again. “But yes, Starbucks or nothing in future,” you agree.

With a final chuckle, the two of you part ways.

Keen to make the most of the sunlight and fresh air after the dark and dreary coffee shop, you take a leisurely stroll through the park while you sip your flat white and make a mental list of what you need to buy from the store.

If Starbucks was busy, the grocery store is the stark opposite. Not only is it seemingly empty of customers, but there is a noticeable absence of staff too. It wouldn't be a problem, were it not for the fact that the last carton of toothpaste is tucked away on the top shelf, well out of your reach. You used the last of yours this morning and there’s simply no way you're turning up on your first day of work without fresh breath.

Cursing your small stature, you try looking for someone to help, but aside from a frail old man by the confectionary stand, the aisles are abandoned. You dump your basket on the floor. Perhaps if you just put your foot on the bottom shelf you can climb up and…

"Never understood why they put these things so high up. Need a hand?"

The deep voice catches you by surprise, fortunately just in time to prevent you from actually using the shelves as a climbing frame.

"Please." You return your foot to solid ground and point out the item you've been trying to reach. As you begin to turn around, you find yourself face to face with a solid expanse of male chest.

The tall stranger easily grabs the last carton without so much as a stretch. "There ya go. Wouldn't wanna see you get hurt. Pretty sure these places have no-liability clauses."

Stepping back to properly appraise your saviour, you have to blink twice. Because you recognise that windbreaker and ball-cap combination.

It's coffee-shop guy.

He offers you the carton and for the second time today his fingers brush yours. It's only when you withdraw your hand that he looks at you - really looks at you.

A flicker of recognition flickers across his own face and the corners of his eyes crease as he smiles back at you. And what a smile it is.

"Well, thank you for saving me from breaking my neck in the name of fresh breath." You cringe at the words even as they leave your mouth.

"Just returnin' the favour. You saved me from drinkin' your shitty coffee." He's grinning now. It lights up his face and you wonder why you haven't seen him on the giant billboards on the way into town. You're confident this man could sell water to the ocean.

"Hey, speak for yourself."

He flashes you a sexy smirk before loping off.

As you leave the store, you briefly wonder about the strange coincidence. But by the time you get home and unpack your shopping, both the thought and the man have vanished from your mind.

With your schedule now clear for the rest of the day, you decide to hit the gym, hoping it will help release some of the nervous tension that's been building as your first day draws closer. You've never really been able to make the most of your membership, but hopefully now with a more regular shift pattern and less travel, you can start to enjoy the benefits.

You work out for the best part of an hour, hitting the treadmill and some of the free weights, before calling it a day. Jumping into the elevator, a sweaty mess, you press the button for the basement parking lot. The doors are just beginning to shut when a big hand, followed by a muscular forearm reaches through the gap, halting the closure.

You jam your finger against the door-open button and the latecomer slips inside, flashing you a grateful smile. One hand holds a phone to his ear, while the other carries a gym bag. Preoccupied by his phone call, he nods his thanks in your general direction.

It's only when the now familiar pair of hazel eyes land on you, that it hits you.

It's coffee-shop guy.

Again.

You almost didn't recognise him without the ball-cap; his dark blonde hair is damp and swept to one side. This time he’s dressed in a tight black tee and loose-fitting work-out shorts. Tattoos peek out from beneath his sleeves, wrapping around each corded bicep and you can't help but marvel that he's been hiding such an impressive body all this time.

He definitely notices you, too, because the pinch of annoyance between his brows softens and the side of his mouth ticks up. Is he thinking the same thing?

You again.

You've never considered yourself to be an eavesdropper, but as the lift begins it's slow descent, you can't help overhearing his conversation. After all, it's a very small space and there's just the two of you in here.

"Goddammit, John. She can't keep changin' the plan like this. Anyone would think she wants us to fail."

His gruff voice sends a forbidden thrill along your spine. You try to avert your gaze, but with the mirrored walls it seems that everywhere you look there's a glimpse of his body.

"I'm just tellin' you, I don't like this." You watch via the mirror's reflection as he runs his thick fingers through his hair, sweeping back the lengths that have fallen across his damp brow.

"Do you think it's what I said about her blouse?"

He's still on the phone when the elevator doors reopen at your destination. You sneak a final peak at his deliciously toned calves before making your way through the parking lot.

After a few seconds, you're conscious that he seems to be following you. For the briefest moment you wonder if he could be stalking you. It would certainly explain these strange coincidences. But then the big black Jeep next to your car illuminates with the click of a button and you realise that he's simply parked next to you.

Releasing a soft sigh, you chastise yourself for jumping to conclusions. Not every man is a predator. You cast a final, rather wistful look in his direction before climbing into your car.

You don’t make a habit of drinking by yourself, especially not on a work night, but a new bar has opened a few blocks from your apartment and when you walk past it later that evening, you find yourself enticed inside.

Promising yourself it's just going to be the one drink, you head to the crowded bar. It’s busy for a Monday night, but you eventually make your way towards the front of the queue.

As you wait to be served, someone jostles you from behind, pushing you into the customer in front of you. Your hand darts out to prevent yourself from face planting his back.

“Shit, I'm sorry.” You apologise profusely, quickly removing your hand from his t-shirt. The last thing you want is for some random guy to think you're feeling him up.

The customer glances over his shoulder and as his eyes travel over you, you realise with a start that he’s not such a stranger after all.

Come on.

Again?

What are the chances?

It's quite easy to spot the exact moment that he recognises you. A flash of surprise leaps across his fine features and a wry grin forms on his lips. He shuffles over to make room for you to join him at the bar.

“OK. I gotta ask, darlin’. Are you followin’ me? Cos this must be the third time I’ve ran into you today.”

“Fourth actually.” You can’t help but correct him. “Grocery store, remember?”

“Right.” He's still grinning down at you. “How is it I've never seen you round before? You just move here or somethin'?"

You shrug, thinking the same thing. “It's a big town. I've never seen you, either.”

Pretty sure I'd remember...

“Touché,” He laughs. With the bartender now waiting to take his order, he pauses to look at you. “What are you drinkin'?”

You hesitate for a split second, before thinking why the hell not. What's the worst that could happen? You've been bumping into him all day, you may as well let him buy you a drink.

Once you both have a beer in hand, your legs seem to be carrying you of their own accord and you wordlessly follow him away from the bar and into a quiet corner.

“I’m Rick, by the way. Figure by now we should swap names, right? Or should I keep callin' you 'coffee-shop girl'?"

With heat blooming beneath your cheeks, you give him your own name. When he repeats it back to you there's no denying the thrill that comes from hearing it on his lips.

"To happy coincidences and drinkin' on a school night." He clinks his bottle against yours before bringing it to his mouth.

You raise the bottle to your own lips and take a long refreshing swig, feeling Rick’s eyes on you.

"You here alone?" He asks, before hurriedly adding, "Shit, that sounded creepy. Didn't mean it like that. Just didn't want to steal you away from anyone…"

You can't help but chuckle at such an endearing display of awkwardness. "Yeah, it's just me. Don't really know what I'm doing here, if I'm honest. Seemed like a good idea at the time but now it feels a little… sad."

"I hear ya. Just came to grab a beer before I ship out for work tomorrow. Maybe we can be sad together?" He gestures towards an empty booth.

Nodding your agreement, you allow him to guide you into the booth. To your surprise he slips in beside you.

"So, what do you do?" You ask. "For work, I mean." It's been so long since you've made small talk with someone, and even longer since you've been on a date. Not that this is a date.

You might be imagining it, but you think you see a twinge of regret slip across his face before he answers. "Oh, just some government bullshit. You?"

You know it's a non-answer, but it doesn't faze you. You've always been reluctant to reveal your own career to men. Past experience has shown they tend to find it intimidating, although you can't shake the feeling that Rick might be different. It's a totally baseless feeling though, so you reply with the same answer as usual. "Transport."

"Sounds thrillin'," he teases. "Let's agree to no more work talk."

You are more than happy to oblige and the two of you fall into an easy conversation that seems to span everything and yet nothing.

Two beers later, with your wits still about you, you regretfully realise it's time to call it a night. It would be so easy to stay here, captivated by this mysterious man, but you simply cannot afford not to be at your best tomorrow.

“I really should get going. Early start tomorrow.”

“C’mon then. Lemme walk you home.”

Although you've only really known him for the last two hours, you find yourself agreeing. Rick's presence feels warm and reassuring and he's already shared so much of himself with you. By now you know he likes to golf, has a very sweet tooth despite taking his coffee black, and one day he'd love to adopt a Golden Retriever. Instinct tells you he can be trusted.

The temperature has dropped when you exit the bar, but the heat from Rick’s presence keeps you warm. He’s had you laughing all evening and your face aches from smiling so much.

By the time you reach your front door, you’ve adamantly decided that you're not yet ready to say goodbye to this handsome stranger. You’ll be heading to who knows where in the morning and there’s a very real possibility that you’ll never see Rick again.

“You umm... you wanna -”

Before you can finish the sentence, his lips cut you off with a tentative kiss. Your heart leaps at the unexpected contact, but he pulls away just as abruptly. “Sorry. Really didn't plan on doin' that. Hope I didn’t-”

But it’s your turn to interrupt, fingers clutching the soft cotton of his t-shirt as you drag him down to meet your mouth again.

Seconds later, Rick’s large body is pinning you against the door and he's kissing you again, fervently this time. His calloused fingers dip beneath your shirt, branding you with the heat of his touch and you let out a small moan of pleasure when his tongue sweeps over your lips.

While you have no idea what's come over you, you equally know that you don't want this to end. “Let’s go inside,” you pant, reluctantly breaking away to fish for your keys.

The weight of his gaze follows you inside and you've barely closed the door when you feel his hands slipping around your waist, drawing you back until your spine is flush against his chest, a solid wall of muscle.

His head dips down, nose grazing the side of your face and as he murmurs into your ear, the tickle of his warm breath sends heat pooling to your core. "Don't usually do this kinda thing." There's a hint of nervousness to his voice, which only makes you want him more.

"Me neither," You rasp, although you're not exactly sure which part he's referring to. Picking up strangers in bars? It feels like so much more than that. It feels inevitable. Like fate has been pushing the two of you together all day and there was only ever one way this was going to end.

When he nips at your earlobe, you're ready to combust. His hands slide beneath your shirt again, creeping up, up, up, until they reach the swell of your breasts. You arch back into his touch, feeling the hard length of him digging into your ass.

His lips travel down to the sensitive spot below your jaw, while his hands softly cup your breasts over the thin material of your bra.

"This ok?"

"Yes." It's more than ok.

Deft fingers pull the shirt over your head before spinning you around to face him. He walks you backwards until your bare skin hits the cold wall. His hands continue to explore your body, trailing a path of desire along your skin.

You reach for Rick’s shirt and tug it up, exposing the taut muscles of his stomach and chest. Your mouth waters at the sight of the V- shaped dip leading into the waistband of his jeans. He helps you remove his shirt in one swift movement, allowing you a few seconds to savour the sight, before his lips are on you again.

Rick kisses you like he’s starving, but despite the desperate way he touches you, there's a gentleness behind every movement. He doesn't rush you. In fact, you're the one reaching for his belt buckle, impatient to get your hands on him, to feel him inside you.

Through an unspoken agreement, you both shed the remainder of your clothes, until it's just the two of you, skin on skin, as he crowds you against the wall.

Your hands rise to the nape of his neck, fingers running through the soft lengths of his hair as you pull him back down to kiss you again. God, you hope he never stops kissing you.

His own hand slides down to your thigh and he hooks your leg around his hip. You can feel the press of him, hard against your stomach and you don't want to wait another moment. A needy whimper escapes your lips.

"Rick."

He pulls back to study you, lust-blown hazel eyes meeting your own. "You sure, darlin'?"

"I'm sure."

Dropping your leg for a second, he retrieves a condom from somewhere amongst the discarded clothes and rolls it over his thick, hard length.

Resuming his position, broad hands cup your ass and Rick lifts you up with ease. Supported by his strong arms and the wall at your back, you wrap your legs around his slim hips and feel the insistent push of him against your centre. With a steady grip he brings you back down again gently and a wild sound tears from your mouth as you feel your walls stretch to accommodate him.

"Oh God, Rick."

His head dips between your breasts, covering your skin with wet kisses. Unable to decide whether his name is a prayer or a curse, you pant it repeatedly as he drives into you again and again and again.

If this is what happens when you stray from routine, perhaps you should do it more often.

Tuesday August 6th

It barely feels like five minutes have passed since you tumbled into bed, when the angry buzz of your alarm has you blearily batting your eyes open. You attempt to roll over and grab your phone, but a heavy, muscled arm anchors you beneath the sheets.

Right.

You're not alone.

You manage to squirm out of Rick’s grip and after fumbling with the keypad, you successfully silence the alarm. Allowing yourself a brief moment to appraise your situation and the naked man beside you, a rush of heat spreads throughout your body as memories of the previous evening come crashing back to you.

You slip out of bed, ignoring the pang of embarrassment that comes from finding yourself equally as naked beneath the sheets. No small part of you wishes you could fall back into Rick's arms, but as tempting as a second round might be, if you don’t get a move on, you’re going to be late for work.

After pulling on a tank top and underwear, you proceed to sweep the house for his discarded clothes, a miniature trail of evidence pointing to your late-night activities.

When you return to the bedroom, Rick hasn’t yet stirred. He looks so peaceful, fast asleep in your bed, that you are almost reluctant to wake him. You try shaking him gently at first, but to no avail. Time for a change of tactic. “Wake up,” you grouse, dropping the articles on the bed beside him. “Rick." You raise your voice a little louder. "You need to leave. I have to get to work.”

His eyes finally flutter open and he looks around, momentarily confused. “Shit, what time is it?”

“Time for you to leave,” you emphasise, careful to hide the disappointment in your voice. Last night was a dream, but in the cold light of day you're starting to realise that's all it's likely to ever be. A brief reprieve from your normal life, courtesy of a strange chance of fate.

He glances at his watch. “Oh fuck. I really need to get goin’.”

Resisting the temptation to sneak a final glance at his marvellous body, you avert your gaze as he pulls back the sheets and dresses quickly.

“I wish I could offer you breakfast, but I can't be late today."

“Maybe some other time,” Rick concedes with a wry smile.

“Maybe.” Despite your resolve, a small smile tugs at your own lips.

He allows you to hustle him out of the apartment without complaint and a deep inner voice asks why you feel so disappointed. What exactly are you expecting? A kiss goodbye? You've already decided this doesn't mean anything.

"Guess I'll see you around."

Will you ever see him again? You almost consider asking for his number, but he hasn’t asked for yours. Watching him walk away, you decide that perhaps you will just leave it up to fate.

When you finally make it through security and onto the tarmac, supply pack haphazardly slung over one shoulder, you're panting heavily. Even this early in the morning, the August sun is unrelenting. Your eyes immediately land on a young man dressed in a tac vest and pants that look two sizes too big for his slight body. The anxious expression on his face relaxes slightly when he spots you approaching.

"You're here." The relief is evident in his voice and you can't help but wonder if they've stuck you with a rookie on your first day.

“Sorry. Got lost.” The lie slips out effortlessly. He doesn’t need to know the reason for your tardiness. "You the co-pilot?"

"Rogers," he introduces himself with a salute.

"No need for that, we're not in the army anymore."

He nods in confirmation, handing you what appears to be the flight plan. You can only hope he's a steady hand in the cockpit.

You scan the details, already familiar with the basics. “Have the assets arrived yet?"

He shakes his head.

"OK, let's begin pre-flight checks.” You lead the way onto the helicopter without waiting to check if he’s following. After dumping your gear, you sink into the pilot seat and slip on your headset.

“She’s a beauty,” you remark, glancing around the cockpit.

Rogers agrees, but there’s still a nervousness to his movements. You want to ask him if everything is ok, when a truck pulls into view. A host of armed guards jump down onto the tarmac and usher out a brightly clad group of individuals.

"These the assets?" You cock an eyebrow at Rogers, but he's practically shaking with fear at the sight of your potential passengers.

You don't know why. You're pretty sure at least one of them is wearing lycra.

"Th- that's the Suicide Squad," Rogers stammers.

"The what-now?"

Admittedly, the job spec had been brief, but considering you were personally headhunted for the position and it paid a hell of a lot better than your military position, you were only too happy to make the transition over to the private sector. The way you see it, this was a rare opportunity that you would have been stupid to turn down.

But no one had said anything about a 'suicide squad'.

"Haven't you heard of them?" Rogers sounds shocked. "Harley Quinn? Captain Boomerang?"

You shake your head and return to the flight plans, hoping they might shed further light on your co-pilot's comments.

"Transportation of eight high-risk prisoners, including three meta-humans…"

Ok. So maybe you can understand why Rogers might be so nervous. Perhaps you should have read the fine print.

The guards begin to hustle the prisoners on board and you can’t help but crane your neck to get a closer look at your passengers. “What the hell is that thing?” You whisper to Rogers, horrified.

“I heard it’s a weasel. It killed 27 children...”

“Are they OK back there unattended?" You realise you're starting to sound as worried as your co-pilot. "They’re not gonna try hijacking the helo are they?”

Before Rogers can answer, a second truck pulls up. This time only two men emerge. One with startlingly long blonde hair. The other...

You have to pick your jaw up off the floor.

“Who-who’s that?” You stammer, even though the two of you are already pretty damn well acquainted.

“That’s Colonel Flag.”

The universe is surely conspiring against you right now. As if bumping into him all day yesterday wasn’t enough, he’s here about to board your helo, of all places. When he cited his work as government shit, he really wasn’t kidding. You sink further into the seat and pray for the ground to swallow you up. Maybe he won’t recognise you with your cap pulled low and your tac suit on. Maybe if you keep your attention ahead of you and don’t speak…

Thoroughly distracted by Rick’s presence on board the chopper, you fly through the pre-flight checks relying solely on Rogers' surprising competence. You can hear Rick moving around back there, talking to the others. His voice is loud, commanding.

With your pulse ringing in your ears, you wait anxiously for the signal to begin take off. Maybe he won’t even come up here. Maybe he doesn’t have to know. But when you sense movement behind you, your traitorous body turns around, only to find yourself staring straight at Rick.

He starts to introduce himself, but it doesn't take long for the penny to drop, those familiar hazel eyes quickly landing on your face. You have to give the man credit, he barely falters, but there’s still no hiding the shock in his expression. "Uhh, take off whenever you're ready. We're good to go."

"No problem, Colonel." You're amazed your own voice sounds so steady. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?

Rick disappears into the back of the chopper and despite your racing mind, you successfully complete the take off.

The next couple of hours pass by uneventfully, except for the few times Rick pops his head upfront to check on your progress. He seems distracted, and not by you. Remembering the phone call you overheard in the elevator, you wonder if that could have anything to do with it. Pushing the worry to the back of your mind, you concentrate on the task at hand. Getting the chopper to Corto Maltese. There’ll be time for you to talk about this later.

When you finally reach your destination, hovering over the small island, you call to Rick through the headset. “Colonel, we’ve arrived.”

You can hear him instructing the rest of his team to jump and for a moment you think that he’s gone too, but then his voice calls over the radio and your heart skips a beat.

“See you on the other side.”

[ao3feed-ineffablehusbandz]

Beloved

Beloved

by Ack_Emma

Aziraphale has his own near-Armageddon when the birth of his and Crowley’s third child goes very badly.

Crowley and the baby are eventually fine but Aziraphale is not.

Here’s what happens when his personal almost-Apocalypse keeps living on inside of him.

Words: 1879, Chapters: 2/14, Language: English

Series: Part 6 of Wool You Be Mine (Medieval Arranged Marriage AU)

Fandoms: Good Omens (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens), Madame Tracy (Good Omens), Anathema Device, Newton Pulsifer, Gabriel (Good Omens), Sandalphon (Good Omens), Michael (Good Omens), Dagon (Good Omens), Original Child(ren) of Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens), Maria Verbose

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Elizabethan Era, 16th Century CE, Historical Accuracy, Historical Inaccuracy, I mean there's a witches guild, Female Crowley (Good Omens), Male Aziraphale (Good Omens), Childbirth, Caregiving, Recovery, Medieval Medicine, Happy Ending, But realistic, Hopeful Ending, Crowley is a Little Shit (Good Omens), that's how you know she's feeling okay, Hand Jobs, Cunnilingus, Penis In Vagina Sex, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), here come the content warnings (includes spoilers), Blood, Psychological Trauma, Mental Health Issues, Acute stress disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Anxiety, Denial, Separation Anxiety, Psychological Numbness, Nightmares, Flashbacks, Intrusive Thoughts, Avoidance, Lochiorrhea, Vomiting, hiding your fear and trauma from your partner, if you're always busy giving oral you never have to talk about your feelings, yes that's Aziraphale's strategy, Aziraphale is Good at Cunnilingus (Good Omens), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Alcohol Misuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Birth Control, thoughts about widowerhood, thoughts about forced remarriage, thoughts about obligatory but unwanted touching and sex, Gabriel and Sandalphon being assholes, Sexism, no one dies, but the following life-threatening topics are depicted in some manner, childbirth complications, Infection, deceased infant, (as an intrusive thought), the following topics are discussed or mentioned, maternal death, birthing parent death, Infant Death

From https://ift.tt/3JU6L7N https://archiveofourown.org/works/40111710