The 15th of December last year 2023, was the moment when I finally succumbed to watching Good Omens for the first time. I had deliberately avoided watching it... as I was very over Angels and Fallen Angels and deep in a mire of depression. I also didn't have prime. I went dog sitting overnight for some neighbours around the corner. I decided to finally watch it as they had all channels. I watched both seasons in the 18 hours I was there..very little sleep. I knew it would be a dangerous slippery slope being Angel based. Of course it was even better than I could of imagined.
I went home and started watching the YouTube clips the fandom had compiled. I bought the book, I am not a big reader... Dyslexic. So I listened to the audio and read along with it.... this kept me going for nearly 2 weeks.
Then 2 days after Christmas, I lost a long term friend suddenly from a cardiac arrest . He was one of my Lindsay Kemp Company family, and I was so upset.. I was in a Fuck it mood and decided I needed to sign up to prime... I needed Good Omens...I needed David and Michael to lift my spirit. Then, a week later, we lost another Kemp Company member to cancer, which was expected...2 in a week. It felt like the late 80s and early 90s when we lost 5 Company members to the dreadful disease Aids... Needless to say Good Omens became my safe place . Maybe it's my religion now it seems far more logical to me.
And now, exactly 4 months later, I have just finished watching them for the 10th time...is that normal or too many times?
I cried again at end of season 2... it's happened everytime I have watched it. I think it won't happen again, I know it's coming, then that tear in Crowley's eye gets me every fucking time. I AM such a bloody softy.....and the floodgates open.
As silly as it seems, this silly story of 2 fictional daft winged creatures has got me through some very dark moments in the last few months.
It has kicked started my creativity again, which was null and void in the depression. I am glad I decided to watch it 4 months ago as it the show,has become almost my best friend.
David and Michael are the soothing voices in my head now. Mind you, their prose, also known as Gaiman's English, is my current fluent language.....along with sarcasm.
Just say I know how Crowley feels right now.
Off to finish crying....😭 maybe by the 20th watch of both seasons, I won't cry anymore.
Yeah right! 🤣
So thank you @neil-gaiman for the restoration of some sanity during this bumpy time... instead of being a Sanity Assassin ... and for being the genius to put DT and MS together.... ❤ but I would not expect anything else from someone brought up in the South Downs area of Sussex like me.😉
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"You could have changed."
"Not with the chaos in my room right now."
"Would you rather feel hot?" Aziraphale looks at him puzzled, then sighs and turns his whole body towards the artist, without getting up from the chair. His hands go to the buttons of his cardigan. "May I see what's so obscene?"
Anthony remains silent for a moment, his eyes on the Lord's fingers, waiting for permission to release the buttonholes. "All right," he concedes, "but if you feel uncomfortable -"
"Anthony dear," Aziraphale calls him back, hinting a small smile. "I would like to point out that it would not be the first time I have seen you in an unseemly condition." With his fingers he begins to slowly unbutton the cardigan, from the bottom upwards.
"Yes, but they were different situations and safe environments."
"Let me decide if something makes me uncomfortable or not, hmm?"
You would tell me too late, though.
"Whatever." Anthony shrugs his shoulders.
When the cardigan opens to reveal the artist's half-naked chest, Aziraphale stares unblinkingly. His hands leave the edges of the fabric to brush his hips through the semi-transparent tank top, tilting his face. Anthony places the coffee cup, now empty, on the coffee table.
"Sometimes I really don't know where you find such things," he comments distractedly. "It barely feels like fabric on your skin." A pause. "You went around the house looking like that?" Aziraphale looks up, searching Anthony's eyes. "Did the servants see you half-naked?" He frowns, and there it is, between the creases of his forehead: a hint of annoyance and disappointment, accentuated by the way the Lord wrinkles his nose. "What were your intentions when you decided to dress like this?"
Anthony gasps. He lowers his gaze to his own indecency and swallows. His fingers twitch and quickly reach for the lower flaps of his cardigan, twisting them between his knuckles nervously. The weight shifts from one leg to the other.
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Part 2!
Beginning || Previous || Next
I'm so glad you all are as hyped about this idea as I am!! ^_^ So you know, I've been reading every Other Idea, every reblog, and I am going to use your input to inform my choices going forward. This is OUR fic, after all :)
***************
That FREAKING coffee. Your eyes narrow. Everyone is still in shock, no one has spoken yet. You use the hesitation to grab the coffee out of the Metatron's hands and chug it back all in one go. It's the perfect temperature for drinking. Because of course it is. You're vaguely aware of some sounds of protest from Metatron and Aziraphale, but they're monosyllabic, and don't need a response. That can wait till after you finish.
You pull the cup from your lips and exhale in an overly-dramatic fashion, and look at the Metatron. It tasted exactly like almond-flavoured coffee, and you still hate him. YUP. Good.
"I beg your pardon!" The Metatron gasps, his face glaring at you with fury behind his eyes. But, oh, you couldn't care less if you tried.
"Get. Out. Now," You say to him. Your eyes have figurative fire behind them, the rush of caffeine and adrenaline making you braver than you otherwise would be.
"Young person, have you any idea who you are ordering about? I think you'll find that you're of no authority to be making demands and that you would do best to see yourself out. Before you make any foolish mistakes," the Metatron's voice is cool like a spring creek, but you can hear the malice just below the surface; barely contained.
But here is the thing, my dear Reader, this is a self-insert fanfiction. And in this work of fiction you are brave and clever, and you have been grieving for everything this monster put our beloved Ineffable Husbands through for too long not to be very, very angry now that you have come face to face. And you are not about to let this go. Crowley and Aziraphale have spent so much time trying to defend the world, defend humans, defend those they don't even like! You'll be damned before you let them go undefended when you, yes you, with all your love for them and all your knowledge are standing right there. So defend them you shall. Someone has to. And right now no one else will.
"Do you," you begin after a moment, "have any idea who you are speaking to?"
For a moment, the Metatron looks taken aback. But only a moment, before his eyes grow cold again.
"I mean," you continue, "I just fell through the ceiling, and landed in front of you just as you were about to hand over that coffee. I don't know about you, but I can only think of one reason why that would have happened, and it has three letters."
In your peripheral vision you notice Muriel, counting on their fingers. Aziraphale chokes back a gasp. You can't see it right now, but you can FEEL Crowley's eyebrow from here. Metatron holds your gaze, not ready to give up just yet.
"If I were you, Metatron, I would pop on back to Heaven, and double-check a few things. Because, I mean, there must be a reason why I've been dropped here to interrupt you. Seems like your plan hasn't been...approved. Otherwise it would go forward as planned, yes?" Matching his arrogance is key here, and if you mess up, the consequences could be dire. You glance at your cuticles with an air of nonchalance. "Unless, of course, you presume to know better?" And to seal the deal, you raise your eyes in a sideways look that screams smug.
You've spent months reading meta analysis, character analysis, everything you can get your hands on about the final fifteen. You're pretty sure you have a solid enough grasp of the Metatron's character to pull this off. The main thing is to pretend you know what's actually going on, convince him that he doesn't, and buy some time.
Suddenly, your phone in your pocket buzzes four times, and your mouth tastes like salt. But, actually really pleasant salt. Like you just ate McDonald's french fries, or theatre popcorn. Something clicks into place in your mind.
"....Did you...just try to turn me into salt?"
Having spent months learning to read Michael Sheen's facial expressions, you see the Metatron's eyes shift through Surprise, then Curiosity, before landing on what you can only call Calculating.
So YUP for the salt. But apparently he can't touch you. Later, you tell yourself, we'll figure this out later. Get him out, and get him out now.
You take a step forward, herding him towards the door.
"It seems," you say to him, "That you have some things to clarify."
The Metatron huffs, and straightens his tie. "Indeed it does," he says, knives beneath the calm once again. "I shall return, Aziraphale, and when I do, I do hope we will have a chance to chat."
And so the Metatron leaves, as though it was his own idea. You follow him to the door. Oh, you shouldn't, but you just can't help yourself. And honestly, I don't think you should. You call to him as he walks away.
"And be careful with those questions, Metatron! We all know how THAT ONE goes, don't we?" And with that you slam the door.
While you're apologizing (very quietly and lovingly) to the bookshop door, you hear Crowley behind you.
"Nnnyeah, I have no idea what's going on, but I like this one."
You pull out your phone. There are five heart icons. Four that are full, and one that is just an outline. Oh. OH.
"FUCK," you say to yourself.
Now you look up. You're shaking like a leaf, but lucky for you, there's still a metric ton of adrenaline running through your system, allowing you to realize that you need to figure out what comes next.
Vote on This One too please (I'm only able to do one poll per post, so bear with me).
❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤
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