#just tickety boo

[ineffable-suffering]

I fully agree with you on that being Crowley‘s very valid point of view and him having all the right in the world to feel hurt and betrayed by how he witnessed the Final Fifteen from his side.

I do however want to chuck in that I think the very same goes for Aziraphale too. I love both characters so very dearly and I feel for both of them so much my silly heart aches with it – and that’s why I just want to point out that Aziraphale‘s POV in this is just as heartbreaking as Crowley‘s is.

Ever since S2 dropped, I‘ve heard a lot of things said along the lines of:

„How could Aziraphale say he forgives Crowley? When he‘s the one who said such horrible and deluded things in the Final Fifteen and wanted to change Crowley back into an angel and force him to join the abusive institution again that chucked him out like a piece of mouldy bread for only asking questions. How could he be so blind and ruthless after Crowley just poured his heart out to him! If anything, Crowley is the one who deserves to dish out forgiveness, not Aziraphale!“

To this I say, imagine: you reading my insanely long meta on how Aziraphale did none of this voluntarily and had no choice whatsoever but to do exactly what he did during the Final Fifteen (and yet meant none of it, which makes it all the more fucking painful).

And to this I also say, imagine:

Your story on Earth starts in Eden, just and holy as any Principality should be, and approximately one and a half minutes into your new job assignment, you go directly against the will of the Almighty Herself and ensure that the punishment of humanity instead spirals downwards upwards? into their survival — oh, deary — to which the serpent of Eden who (accidentally? who knowsssss for ssssure) started this all and witnessed your little swordy survival give-away, only shoots you a captial-L Look, doesn’t rat you out and instead lovingly teases you for it and whoopsie, would you look at the time! Because of this silly encounter, you go ahead to circle each other for 6000 years over ox ribs and wine, over oysters and house brown, in damp places and during revolutions, at Shakespeare plays when offered an Arrangement, in bombed churches with saved books, in a century long silence and suicide-pill deliveries, during trying and succeeding to prevent the inevitable end of the literal World.

He saves you. Over and over again. He asks you to run away with him. Over and over again. And you know roughly three things:

1. You love Her because that‘s the only thing you were ever meant to do. (1a. You don‘t love them, though. They treat you awfully. They treat everyone awfully. But you have to go along with them, as far as you can.)

2. You love him, too, because there was never any way that you wouldn’t. (2a. He loves you too.)

3. And if you ever let that second knowledge slip to anyone, any single one other being in Heaven or Hell or the universe, they would make sure he’s destroyed for good. It‘s not a worry or fear. It‘s a fact. Without any subpoints.

A fact that, like a stone, sits in your stomach with every forkful of secret dinners shared. Burns on your tongue with every sip of nightcap whiskey drunk in shared silence. Chains up your unbeating heart with every look into those yellow eyes, hidden behind yet another ridiculous pair of sunglasses.

He saves your books and you love him. Desperately, wholly, so much so that you don’t know where the — excuse the French — fuck to put it. You try to repay him for once in your life, try to get him out of a predicament for once, try to thank him for once, tell him to trust you, and it almost gets you both killed. (Not by a bullet. But by your third fear knowledge come true).

You manage to swerve the car just in time to avoid the most collateral damage of your life but it‘s a searing reminder of what‘s at stake. Him. He‘s at stake. If you slip up, either of you, if you let down your guard, they will punish you and they will destroy him.

Hell doesn‘t send rude notes.

The end of the world comes and he begs you to come with him. To be with him. But you can’t.

Knowledge #3: Loving him would mean loosing him. Running away with him would mean putting a target on his back.

You danced the dance that both of you have learnt so carefully for over 6000 years. You got him the god damned suicide pill in case things went pear shaped. You told him he was going too fast when really all you wanted was to floor that pedal yourself. But if you had, if you do, it would have and will cost you his life. He wants to take you away, hide you, keep you, protect you. You know that letting him do so will be his death.

So, you turn him down. You try so hard to. „I don‘t even like you!“ He knows it‘s a lie. He knows you too well but you can‘t. You can‘t. Instead, you save the World. With him. Against all odds. It‘s the one chance you get. And you get it right. You saved it. You saved each other.

You saved him.

You hold hands all the way back to your home. Tentatively, so carefully, like picking a stray eyelash off someone‘s cheek, you let yourself think: „Our side.“ You ask for a rubber duck, a miracled bath towel. You tell them to stay. The Fuck. Away from him.

Our side, our side, our side.

You love him, oh, you love him so terribly, so fiercely, that it‘s all going to be okay now. He says you‘re still in danger but you know you‘re not — how could you be, when you look at him. When you can finally capital-L Look at him the way he looked at you back on that wall in Eden.

Our side, our car, our bookshop. Our ball, our dance. And you‘re going to tell him. Finally, finally you are. You see how it‘s all possible, you see both your ex-bosses doing what you always wanted to do and you‘re finally ready to take it without fearing for his life.

You are offered given a coffee.

You get no choice in denying it.

You are told: „Go tell your friend the good news.“ The eyelash on your finger gets blown away but no wish comes true. „It would certainly be within your jurisdiction to re-instate your friend to full angelic status.“

Knowledge #3, the update: If I say no, they are going to kill us both. If I tell Crowley I don‘t want to go to Heaven — which I don‘t — they are going to kill us both. If we run away, they are going to kill us both.

The car is about to crash again. Your foot has been glued to the pedal by someone else. Desperately, you try to pull off another magic trick. Making a picture disappear is easy. Making the love of your life realise that you cannot say no to Heaven and also cannot tell him the truth and also cannot risk his life and also cannot say any of this openly because your every move is being watched again? Not so easy.

You try with your old code, the old dance, the secret language you both have spoken for millenia („I don’t even like you!“) but it fails you because he doesn’t know what you know, his information is different from yours, he‘s not understanding what you are trying to do.

It‘s just a trick, you try to tell him. We‘re not safe, you try to make him see. „Nothing lasts forever“ because if I had to leave it all behind to save you, I would, without a second of doubt. „Come with me“ or they will separate us, hunt us, kill us. They won‘t let us go like they let them go. „I need you“ to trust me. Please, please, please. This bullet isn‘t the real threat, this gun is just a trick. I‘m not trying to shoot you, betray you, I‘m trying to save you. („I knew you’d come through for me.“ — „You said trust me.“ — „And you did.“)

He doesn’t trust you.

Not this time.

For reasons that are entirely his own, entirely valid, entirely understandable to us (fourth wall break, pff) and him. Not to you, though. You thought you could make him understand by speaking your code, dancing your dance, sounding the silent alarm bells, doing another trick.

But the curtain falls. And there‘s no prestige.

The end of the world comes around a second time, bringing you a coffee, and you beg him to come with you. To be with you. But he can’t.

He poured out your heart to you, a moment you‘d been feverishly waiting for forever now, in the one moment you could give nothing but a guarded and false reaction because both of you were in danger again.

You love him. You want to be with him. You want only him, only only only. But you can’t tell him right now, not here, not like this, not when his life is suddenly on the line again and he doesn’t even hear that that’s what you’re trying to tell him. You need to bring him someplace safe first. Need him by your side so they won’t kill him in front of your eyes. But he won’t listen. He won’t trust you. He doesn’t understand the reason behind your begging and pleading. He thinks you‘re actually trying to change him. Thinks you actually take him to be the ‚bad guy’. Thinks you’re leaving him.

He kisses you and it hurts so much and feels so good that you shatter like a glass of Châteauneuf-du-Pape on a old bookshop floor.

„You idiot. We could have been us.“

Yes, we could have. If you had listened, really listened to me. If you had remembered our code, if you had paid attention. After all this time, you think I would carelessly and easily break your heart like this? You think I could be so cruel? To want to actually change you when for the past years I‘ve been trying nothing but to love you and make us our own side? You said it yourself, my dear: „We spent our existence pretending that we aren’t— well, the last few years not really...“ Didn’t I say it so many times? Our car, our bookshop, our side. I danced with you, was ready to overcome all our miscommunications and finally confess to you. I chose you. I want you. But he won‘t let me have you. He won‘t let us leave. He was never going to let us leave. So, I have to find a way for us. I have to fix it. For our side. For you. We cannot run, they will always be right behind us. Alpha Centauri won‘t be far enough. I cannot let them hurt you. I won‘t. I need you. With me. Not to change you, never to change you, my darling, but to save you. But you didn‘t hear me. I didn’t pull the trick off this time, old boy. I’m sorry I couldn’t. I’m sorry I failed. But I have to do this either way, because I‘m not being given another choice. I love you, you idiot. We could have been us.

„I forgive you.“

***

(Addendum: This got a bit more dramatic than I thought and I might have worked through something there, but I guess I just wanted to show what I think Aziraphale‘s equally very painful and hurt point of view was in getting a) no choice about being Supreme Archangel b) no choice in telling Crowley what he had really wanted (which is Crowley, obviously) and c) failing to make Crowley realize this and now having to live with the fact that Crowley really thinks he broke his heart on a whim like this to cash in his promotion. I want to hug both of them and tell them it‘s gonna be ok. It will be, it will. Just wait and see.)

i think it's hard to understand the level of betrayal crowley must have felt, which leads to a lot of assumptions around him easily forgiving aziraphale or not being angry; so let's put ourselves into his position.

imagine: your partner, your best friend, the one person in the world that you love more than anyone else, asks you to change how you look, how you talk, who you are—so you can follow them back to an abusive household that threw you out and told you to never come back.

and they tell you that happy and excited and it's not even a question, it's a "by the way, we're doing that, isn't that great?"

you try to tell them no, it's not, i don't want to go back there, i like who i am now. they hurt me and scarred me for life, and they will do it again.

the person you loves, the person you thought loves you, looks at you and says "but you're bad. don't you want to be good? they can make you good."

come with me, you say. that house doesn't want us, we can have our own, we can build our own home. just the two of us, we don't need them, we're fine the way we are.

"i can change them" they say, as if you didn't try. as if you didn't try to change them first. as if that wasn't the reason they threw you to the wolves.

fuck it, you say. you confess your love anyway because they must know, right? they need to know. "don't leave me" you beg, plead, pray.

"oh," they respond, smiling. "nothing lasts forever."

you try to walk away, they stop you, they make it worse, make it clear they don't understand you like you thought. do they love you or the version of you they created in their head? you can't tell anymore.

"we could have been us," you say. we could have been happy.

you kiss them because you have to, because you will be damned twice over if you lose them without kissing them, because your patience snaps and you think you might die if you don't kiss them right now.

it doesn't change anything. "i forgive you"—for being me? for loving you? for refusing to tear myself apart? for kissing you? it's not like it matters. they're gone. you watch them leave.

would you immediately forgive them if they showed up on your doorstep? or would you be heartbroken and angry? you miss them, you still love them, but FUCK YOU. fuck you for demanding that of me. fuck you for everything you said. FUCK YOU FOR LEAVING.

six thousand years. six thousand years.

it would already be hard to forgive a person you have loved for two years or ten, and it gets worse the longer you know them. six thousand fucking years and aziraphale did that. we know why he did. we know how their story will end, but crowley doesn't.

all crowley has is aziraphale's speech and his face disappearing behind elevator doors. all crowley has is you're the bad guys and come with me and nothing lasts forever and i need you and i forgive you.

love alone does not and cannot fix that. aziraphale took six thousand years of trust and set them on fire with a smile on his face, and i understand the urge to try and find an explanation where he doesn't do that. where everything is secretly fine.

but there isn't.

aziraphale needs to rebuild that trust, he needs to earn it again. and mot importantly, he needs to understand why his words and actions broke it in the first place. but even then—even if crowley is the kindest possible version of himself and aziraphale does everything right—even then crowley would have every single right to say i don't forgive you. i love you and i understand you, we can be together, but i cannot forgive you for that and we both have to live with that now.

they will get their happy ending, i do truly believe that, but it might not be the fairy tale happily ever after you imagine and that's okay. it still counts. it's still good.

let crowley be angry and let them find their way back to each other, even if that path does not include forgiveness.

[nutoka]

If Rimmer had an Ionian accent, what would it sound like?

This thought came to my head after reading the fanfic: ‘Fall in Love with Frankenstein’ (which is AMAZING by the way) and it was just a small snippet of someone pointing out his accent and I was wondering what it would actually sound like.

In my head, it comes out as some sort of posh over-pronunciation of everything when he’s trying to impress someone. Like showing off his heritage and prestige like what he tries to do in Legion or in Twentica. Just any time he goes over the top posh British accent.

Course the accent maybe dulled over the years after being outside of Io for so long or maybe he just doesn’t like it sometimes and it just comes out when he’s trying to be all highty toity.

It’s just a thought and I want to know what other people’s views are on this.

[babygirltangerine]

i love that tangerine is incredibly cringe. "tickety-boo"... "hold your horses"... unironically calling someone a geezer. walking into doors. never knowing whats going on. he's tattoed "dad" (inside a ribbon) on his arm as well as the logo of his favorite football team, which he also wears on his socks and on his phone. and so on and so forth

[delioncourtes]

stuck on the kate bush of it all

david jenkins needs to be locked up

[humanplaypretend]

The way Tabitha was Barbara's entire world

The way she stuck with her throughout all, good and bad, even when the times were rough and they got separated, she always came back, because they need each other. Because a part of one's soul has been ingrained into the others heart like a hot iron branding.

It's the way they matured together, the way they explored life together.

Tabitha came from a life where she was but a weapon for her brother to use. She wasn't a human, she was merely a hitman. Living in the shadows of a pathetic man, being denied the humanity and respect she deserves.

And Barbara could relate to her. She was brought up to become a cliché housewife. A blonde, rich little girl that was gonna become married to a good policeman. Her life had been planned out for her even before she could talk.

They met each other in a moment of chaos, and found peace within the others embrace.

A peace that was disrupted many times, yes, but that persisted throughout it all. The candle's fire dimmed, but never went off.

Barbara saw the intelligent, caring and loving human that was behind the war machine that Tabitha was made to be, and Tabby fell in love with the woman that understood her.

Barbara helped Tabby regain the humanity she was denied, and Tabby helped Barb to realise that she didn't need a man or anyone else for herself to be worthy. Worthy of love, of respect, worthy of a nice life.

Barbara had not only found someone that understood her, but also someone that loved her for who she was. Not like Jim, who loved the "sane version" of her, who wishes for her to change and go back to who she wasn't. Tabitha saw the true Barbs and she decided to stick with her, be with and for her. She was her pillar of support, of unconditional love (although sometimes rough). And she was taken away from her in front of her eyes.

The love of her life, the only one that saw her for who she was and loved the true version of her, was ripped away from her. Her reason to strive and get better, her will to live, gone.

The fact that Barbara not only went behind Tabitha in what was essentially a suicide mission, she PUT HERSELF in the middle of the gunfire in a last attempt to get revenge, heartbroken and desperate. Something she would NEVER do for anyone else. If she had to go, it might as well be avenging the only person that truly ever loved her, die by her side, asking for forgiveness for all the ways she erred Tabitha.

The scream she let out when she saw Tabitha's eyes lose the beautiful glimpse they once had was HEARTWRENCHING. Never once has she acted this way about anyone else because never has she cared so deeply about anyone else

And Tabitha's last words being "Barbara, don't", meaning to not do anything that could get her killed or harmed out of revenge, just adds even MORE to the heartbreak because even in her dying moments, even in the agonising pain that is getting stabbed through the heart, she cares about Barbara. Even when the world is getting blurry, and the tiredness is scarily taking over, even then, the safety and health of Barbara are her priorities.

I am sobbing.

[elasgottoomuchfreetime]

not feeling very tickety-boo at the moment

[just-an-enby-lemon]

I was going to make a joke about Jon using southern slang. Except as a non american I had no idea what southern slang was and after a short research I'm impressed. It goes between really passive agresssive to brutal to just plain weird to what on earth it's that supposed to mean?

Also hoedown being a type of tradicional dance is sending me.

[ineffableaddiction]

Their divergent thought bubbles 😂

Canonical facts that made me question the mental process that Aziraphale’s mind did in exactly 5 seconds from “I don’t think my side would like it” to “I will grab your hand!!!!!!Fast as fuck boiiiiii”

[rookie-prodigy]

This shitty fucking day with its shitty fucking morning and its shitty fucking afternoon and shitty fucking night

The shitty fucking coffee i drank and the shitty fucking meal i had

The shitty fucking time spent with my shitty fucking family in this shitty fucking house missing people who probably dont give a shit abt me

Shit.

Everything. Is. SHIT.

[neil-gaiman]

No ask, just my take on the S3 "ending" controversy...

We know DT doesn't really do the interwebs, but MS (apparently) does enjoy perusing the fandom's musings. I imagine Michael telling David about all his favorites-the fics, the art, AUs. I can see them laughing & loving every take on their beloved characters: the myriad ways in which Aziracrow find each other, lose or keep each other, endings happy & bittersweet. The inclusion/reimagining of cast mates, locales, prized possessions.

I think this is what David was referring to-the Good Omens multiverse that exists in our collective consciousness. No ending will satisfy every one, but I have faith in you & your love for Sir Terry that everything will be OK.

Tickety-boo even.

That's so sweet. Michael has been off doing his play and hasn't yet had a chance to even catch up with the Good Omens Season 3 scripts yet, let alone spend downtime on the web reading fan theories. David has no interest in fan theories of any kind -- he loves fans, loves meeting fans, but that's not how his brain works. (He just thought he was talking to a single fan at an autograph session and didn't realize that people would think he was formally addressing them all as Fandom United.)

But I still love that idea. It's really sweet.

[servantserah]

Crêpes part 3

Previous | First | Next

This was supposed to be the final part but I hate unresolved angst so I think I wanna continue it a little longer. Would you be interested in a few more parts? 👀

Anyway, Crowley blames himself because of course he does and Azi is having a wonderful time in Heaven masking 24/7 and surrounded by his toxic peers 👍🏻 Everything's just tickety-boo.

ℹ️ You can find a guide with all my Good Omens AUs and comics >>here<<!

[supersonic-rocket-ship]

My favorite thing about this post is seeing the reblogs when something bad happens in the news

I cannot tickety boo under these conditions

[beattlecub]

What I think each LiB doll would be and it’s gimmick!!!!! (This is for my au!!!)

Pokey:

Name: Sing-a-long Pokey!

Scent: Blueberry Vanilla

Gimmick: Press Pokey’s hand and he will play a song! Also, if you look at the back of the doll there is a aux cable hole under a flap where you can plug him into a karaoke machine.

Nibbly:

Name: Snack Time Nibbly!

Scent: Apple Honey

Gimmick: Nibbly comes with toy food that you can feed him through his mouth that can open and close! You can access the food through a plate in his back.

Tinky:

Name: Tickety Tock Tinky!

Scent: Banana Mango

Gimmick: Comes with a special clock and box piece that you can use to play games with Tinky. Tinky has 3 pre-made games for each item.

Blinky:

Name: Peek-a-boo Blinky!

Scent: Grape Orange

Gimmick: You can open and close Blinky’s eye and he will play peek-a-boo with you! Just don’t close his eye for too long or he will get mad!

+ bonus!!!!!

Webby:

Name: Weave with Webby!

Scent: Fresh Laundry

Gimmick: Webby is weighted plush and is specifically designed for people with anxiety, sensory issues, and need touch therapy. Webby comes with a blanket that can help soothe anyone who lays on it.

[bwlkins]

People really need to stop depreciating Aziraphale's anxiety.

Nothing to worry about, Aziraphale. Stop imagining the dangers. Your anxiety is unreasonable. Everything is Tip-top. Absolutely tickety-boo.

Just how dare you. Even if he doesn't know exactly what kind of problems might arise, he has every right to worry about it.

Who are you to tell Aziraphale how to love Crowley? To tell he loves him in the wrong way. His love has always saved Crowley. You think Aziraphale is rejecting him, but he's keeping him safe at the same time.

Crowley understands this and takes no offense. He realizes his impulsiveness and his need for an angel to slow him down.

[missmisfitchronicles]

NO FUCKIN WAY! THIS IS THE BEST EARLY BIRTHDAY PRESENT!!!

WAHOOOOOOO!

GOOD OMENS. SEASON 3. CONFIRMED!

Can we hear a wahoo?

[simperius]

When you just want to have a day but things are NOT tickety-boo