Diary Entries On AO3 - Chapter 3 Online

Things to Do Today

1. Sleep

2. Not get booped awake by weird people

3. Stop dreaming ridiculous things.

The duck still doesn't want the peas...

It gazes at me with one beady eye, its head bending sideways while the rapping and tapping quickens its pace.

"Wait", I protest, "you can't be a duck, you're supposed to be a raven. A duck wouldn't be rapping and tapping at my chamber door."

"Right you are", says the duck and with a flap of its wings knocks over the bowl. The peas roll all over the place while a bespectacled friar in a black frock frantically chases after them and yells something in German about dominant allele, whatever that is. My poor head can't make sense of it because the rapping and tapping rings too loudly in my ears.

The duck on the other hand doesn't worry about any of this. It flaps its wings again and takes off. Landing on the shoulder of the Metatron, it croaks a long last 'Nevermore' in my direction. The Metatron glares at me and I notice, he has a pair of black buttons sewn over his eyes. Still, doesn't make the glare any less creepy. 'Nevermore' still rings in my ears when the rapping and tapping finally saves me from drowning in seas of peas.

Ouch.

My head hurts.

Again.

Oh, come on, Nina! Seriously?

I scramble for the handle to roll down the window before her angry fist starts breaking glass. My poor, poor car. "What. Do. You. Want?"

"I want you to come out of your little booze fortress, Mr. Six-Shots-of-Espresso and listen to me."

"I don't want to talk."

"You won't! I'm going to talk and you're going to listen. And if you're too drunk to listen, you will use these devilish powers of yours to make yourself sober and listen anyway."

"Big words from the woman who wanted to drink herself senseless after Annie Wilkes dumped her."

What? I'm not a nice person and I want her to go away.

"First, you have absolutely no right to insult my ex-partner. Second, that would've been one night. One. You've been going at it for several months now. Are you trying to drink yourself to death?"

I swing my long legs out the door, jump up and start pacing around her. Slowly. Menacingly. She doesn't even flinch.

"So? And whatever do you think," I spit out, "makes this any of your business?"

Her death glare is no less deathy than mine. Maybe even a little more so.

"I made it my business. Because with your shitty behaviour you're hurting people I care about."

"What?"

Why?

I don't understand. Why is it anyone's business what I do? Even if I wanted to drink myself to death - which I don't - why would that be anyone's business but my own?

The only person I love is gone.

He doesn't care, so why should I?

~ * ~

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GO unites people of different ages, genders, cultures, countries... There aren't many things that have such a universal language. Terry and Neil wrote a masterpiece, Michael and David made it real. I will never be grateful enough. In the midst of the rubbish of life and the world, it's so nice to find common ground with other people, beyond all barriers. Because this is what GO teaches: there should be no sides, we should simply try to be at peace with ourselves and others. I don't think it's a trivial message, I think it's powerful.

Sixteen reasons to miss you... as if I needed any more of those.

#just aziraphale things (crowley)

Phone, delete contact "Aziraphale"!

~*~

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Where we left off: Shax, newly anointed Duchess of Hell, jumpscared our hero in his bentley….

…. and apparently, she wants to bribe me with liquor-filled chocolates to come back to Hell. I’m not going back, but first I puncture the chocolates with a pen to drink all the liquor. Oh, and did I mention I’m small? (the puncturing and drinking thingie wouldn’t work too well if I was my usual size).

“Stop deluding yourself, Crowley. Deep inside, you already know that Aziraphale left for one reason only. You are a demon and you will never be good enough for him.” Shax tilts her head to the side in one of those familiar bird-demon gestures and watches me intently with one eye.  “How does that make you feel, Crowley? Hurt? Angry? Will you let an angel treat you this way? Break you and cast you away like a used toy?”

I clench the pen and ram into the next piece of chocolate like a tiny lance. This is ridiculous. She doesn’t know the least thing about my angel. However delusional Aziraphale may be for believing he can make a difference in Heaven, deep down his intentions are good. He never wanted to hurt me.

“You gave up everything just to be with him, and you’ve risked everything, even your own destruction. And at the first grasp of power – he’s gone!”

No. No, no, no, no! This isn’t about power. Aziraphale doesn’t care about power at all. He wants to change the system from within. He wants to turn Heaven into the place of light, he always believed it’s meant to be.

But in this belief, there’s no place for a demon. There would have been a place for the angel I was, but I can no longer be that angel.

Shax’ eyes glitter. “I’m not offering you a job, Crowley, I’m offering you a chance at revenge. Rise from the ashes and use that burning fury inside you against the one who wronged you. Unite with me and strike him down on the battlefield in the Great War to come.”

Revenge? Burning fury? I almost choke on the burning whiskey running down my throat. Course, I understand where this is going, she wants to me to direct my anger against Aziraphale. She wants me to become the big bad demon in shiny black armour raining fire and destruction in his unquenchable thirst for vengeance.

Bloody Heaven, I can almost picture this. Aziraphale and me having a face-off in the midst of battle. He’s probably wearing something silvery-white and carrying – I don’t know – some flaming sword or lancea-longini-spear-of-destiny-thingie. And then we’d look into each other’s eyes and stab each other very dramatically with Heaven and Hell watching. And maybe, just maybe, we’d die even more dramatically in each other’s arms with white and black wings entwined.

There’s only one little mistake in this scenario, we did this whole silver knight - dark knight scenario a thousand years ago in King Arthur’s Court and it hasn’t become any less pathetic since then. And second – a crank handle isn’t really made for stabbing. Or fighting in wars for that matter.

“Sorry, Shax.” I’m back to normal size now, sitting in my usual seat behind the wheel. “Nice career option, just not seeing myself there. Anyway, thanks for the booze and tell Hastur, I said ‘hi’”.

She looks at me incredulously. “This choice will have consequences. If you stand aside like a coward, you will be crushed like one.”

“There are always consequences.” I shrug. “But it’s not cowardice, although you probably don’t believe me.”

“What is it, then?” She eyes me suspiciously.

“I just don’t feel it, Shax. All this silly power play for rank and influence and who-get’s-the-biggest-throne-and-the-shiniest-medal. I know, we demons are supposed to live for this, but I just don’t care.  And, you know, that eternal-fiend-thing with the angels? Don’t feel that either.”

“Earth has made you weak.” She shakes her head. “All of us will assemble and take our positions in the last stand. Like on a chess board. If you don’t take yours, you will be totally insignificant in the game to come. And my offer was better than anything you could've hoped to achieve. You could’ve been my Second-in-Command, once I sit on Beelzebub’s old throne.”

She can’t know that she’s already the second person to offer me a position like that. The third, actually, if you count “The United States of Beelzebub”.

No.

No Heaven for me. No Hell for me. I’m done.

“I’m perfectly fine with being insignificant.” I want to add more, but she’s already vanished.

Anyway, I’m keeping the coffee. Or in my case, the liquor.

~*~

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I know that everyone is waiting to find out who met surprised poor drunk Crowley on the bridge - and you will soon - but I want to answer this one quickly, before I forget.

I, too, choose five things that go for me in real life and also go for me as Crowley.

I am very creative and I love what I create.

I enjoy rock music (possibly a bit more metaly than Crowley)

I love to dance and I absolutely don't care how it looks

I am nonbinary at heart. I enjoy presenting male most of the time and I enjoy presenting female when I'm in the right mood for it.

I am very inquisitive. I collect knowledge and new skills, I want to dig through all the layers to get to the bottom of things. And I often got in trouble for "asking too many fool questions" especially as a child and teenager. I didn't get chucked out of heaven like Crowley did, but I did get thrown out of religious class at school once.

I nominate: @crowazira @taraiha @goodomensfanbase @gayforanthonyjcrowley @dagonmasteroftorments @somebebop @draemorah @caterhoades1971 @starfruitsomething

once you get this, you have to say five things you like about yourself, publicly. then you have to send this to ten of your favourite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool~)🌈🌈

Ah, I love this! Thanks @hell-hath-no-fury-like-love (love the handle, by the way!)

I’m creative

I like trying new things

I have a deep connection with nature and animals (or so I tell myself)

I’m a good listener

I think I have a good singing voice

@greenthena @greeneyed-thestral @tangerine-ginger @dee-morris @sayuri-of-the-valley @godfrey-the-chaos-duck @godihatethisfreakingcat @lookingatacupoftea @phoen1xr0se @takemetotheworld

Where we left off: Our hero was nursing his wounded heart, that had been so callously broken, with a bottle of whiskey and a lamentation to the stars. (Mind the commas in the last sentence or it will mean something entirely different... I think. My spelling's "tickety boo" for a demon, but don't hold me accountable for commas, or as Aziraphale used to call them: commata.)

Anyhow, as our hero was lamenting and minding his own business, he was suddenly ambushed by an old enemy. With even more whiskey.

I know, I'm gonna regret this. I'm gonna regret this big time.

"So", I ask, turning to Beelzebub. "What exactly happened?"

"At first, nothing bad. We went to the pub as usual. And then we went to lots of different places. More pubs, shops, the sea, some restaurants, a waterfall, Paris, the moon...."

Why did we never do things like that? We could've had ages to go to places. Literally ages!

Nice one, us!

"And then? Then what?"

Well, we did go to the Ritz. And Paris, too. And some graveyard in Edinburgh. Still, to most of these places we haven't been on purpose. They just happened.

We've wasted our time. We’ve wasted so much time.

"At first, everything was like...like..." Beelzebub is at a loss for words.

"Maple syrup?", I cut in, "Raspberry vinegar? Baklava drowned in honey?"

Being stuck in their office, Beelzebub used to be quite unfamiliar with earth, but they do have a taste for sweet and sticky stuff. Even more so if it's drowned in even more sweet and sticky stuff.

They pause for a moment, trying to hide the goofy grin spreading on their face. It's a very unbeelzebublike grin. "Even better. It didn't really matter where we went and what we did, as long as we could spend time together."

"So, what changed?", I ask. No reason to dwell on memories of things you can no longer have.

"I don't know. It got boring. No, not boring. And not all of the things."

"More like annoying?"

I'm taking a wild guess here, but the expression on their face tells me I struck gold. "Yes. Exactly."

Beelzebub sets down the bottle to be able to move their hands more freely as they talk. "Wherever we go, he always wants to go shopping. This watch and these bags and those shoes. And then he parades around in them and wants me to tell which ones make him look better. And if I pick the wrong ones, he gets all sulky and curls his lip in this really weird way."

Their words get a bit fuzzy, as they try to demonstrate it with their own mouth, but that may be the alcohol's fault.

"And the tailors - oh, these endless hours at the tailors! I can't stand it. This suit and that coat, and - bloody heaven - how am I supposed to know if a tie is supposed to match the shirt or the jacket?"

"It used to be the jacket, now it's the shirt." I marvel in silence at the amount of words tumbling out of their mouth. Beelzebub can be quite a chatterfly, but this is unusual even for them.

"Oh and if it wasn't bad enough, then that whole napkin thing started. We ate at this nice little restaurant in Florence - and he managed to get a stain of tomato sauce on one of his oh-so-precious suits."

I snigger. Imagine that, Mr. ‘I-don't-sullen-my-celestial-body’ eating Pasta in Florence and getting tomato sauce on his clothes. Oh, Angel, how I wish, I could tell you this! We could sit in the bookshop, have a laugh together and imagine Michael or Uriel sending Gabriel a strongly worded note...

"I thought, how can one little stain be such a big deal? We can just miracle it away, but he was devastated. And then he started stuffing a napkin into his collar whenever we had something to eat, so it wouldn't happen again."

Florence. Aziraphale and I met in Florence once or twice during the Renaissance. We were watching the horse races with a young Spanish seminarian - César, I believe - me trying to tempt him away from priesthood and Aziraphale trying to cancel me out. I had already struck a deal with the boy's father in Rome to make him Pope, but I suppose that's a story for another time. Anyway, napkins. Right. Napkins.

Is Beelzebub about to tell me how they broke up with Gabriel over napkins?

"You know, some humans actually do wear napkins in their collars. Or put them on their lap while they eat. It's considered an acceptable behaviour in most restaurants."

"It's a ridiculous behaviour." Beelzebub doesn't seem to be happy about me trying to share my earthly wisdom. "Human children wear them. Adults look absolutely ludicrous in them. Anyway, I told Gabriel, I will not stand for it. If he puts one more napkin in his collar, I will turn on my heel and leave. And yet he did, and then I left and now I am here. End of story."

They grab the bottle again and gulp down the rest of it.

Okay, how do I put this. "Look, Beelzebub, 'breakup' may be a bit of a strong word here."

"Whaddoyoumean, strong?"

"I'm saying, you two got in a fight, but it's not that bad. Aziraphale and I used to have them all the time. You see, he has far more annoying habits than wearing napkins in his collar and parading around in new clothes."

"More annoying than napkins?" Their eyes narrow in disbelief.

"Tartan. That bloody tartan! Yes, I know, Angels wear tartan, but he wears it in places where you wouldn't believe it even existed and I'm not telling you because it really is none of your bisss... business. And he practisesss weird phrasesss about auntsss and their gardenersss because he insistsss on French, the hard way."

"French the hard way?"

"No, not that kind of French!"

"What French?"

"Oh, just forget about the French! He turned my car yellow. He uses weird words like 'commata' and 'tickety-boo' and half of the time, I don't understand what he's talking about anyway. He insists on doing human style magic shows without any miracles and doesn't care that he's bad at it. All of his drawing pencils have to be put in their little boxes in the right order and they all need to be the same size. And when he gets all excited, he pronounces capital letters."

I mean, really pronounces them. And he waves his hands around and bobs on his feet and singsongs along to his music records and I can't... I don't... grrrm... and where the heaven did I put my blinds? Where the f*** are they?

"Here." Beelzebub grabs them off the street and hands them back to me without looking at my face. Their eyes are set firmly on the flow of the river.

Humans may offer each other hugs and hot cocoa. Demons usually mock other demons for weakness. Pretending not to notice it, is a rare thing, and I appreciate the sentiment.

"I have a plan." Luckily, my instincts are back in place, for Beelzebub is about to tell me the real reason why they came to me in the first place. "Look, Crowley, why don't we just start our own thing?"

"What thing?"

"I mean, Hell was started originally because angels rebelled against Heaven, right? And now we - sort of - rebelled against Hell."

They can't be serious. "You mean, we create Hell Point Two? Oh, I bet, good old Lucifer is going to love this."

"He can't thwart us if we're strong enough. Not if we get enough demons to join our side."

They start to pace to dwell on their train of thought. "We could offer better rations or even some nice extras. Like stronger firecoffee or bugs in the office."

I take a step back. "Look, I don't know if 'Hell Point Two' is going to cut it..."

"You're right, we need a better name. One that's more appealing. How about: "The United States of Beelzebub?'"

"Bit long for demons, don't you think? They couldn't spell it. 'Hell' is such a nice short word."

"Don't be such a spoilsport!", they snap. "We could shorten it."

Right. I can clearly picture legions and legions of demons pumping their fists, fins, hoofs and claws up into the air while shouting: USB! USB! USB!

Scary thought. "Oh, come on! Think of all the paperwork. It'll be far worse than a few napkins."

"So, whaddoyousay, Crowley?" Beelzebub extends their hand. "I'll run it, you can be my second-in-command?"

Now, where have I heard THESE words before?

"Well, yes, USB. I can definitely see a career option here. Bees are great. Wahoo for Plan B. Just don't forget, before Plan B is set into motion, there's Plan A as in: Talk to Gabriel!"

Their hand sinks as they stare at me incredulously. "Talk to Gabriel... what about?"

"Pacts. Pacts are a thing. I know, they teach us in hell that we can only strike proper pacts with humans, but they actually function with angels, too. Quite well, to be honest. Aziraphale and I have had lots of pacts over the centuries."

Oodles of pacts. Once he had understood that it actually worked, it was pact-city-Aziraphale.

"For example: You could try something like: 'First, I go shopping with you for two hours, but then you go to my favourite pub with me.' Or: "First, you tell me which pair of shoes feels better on your feet, then I tell you which one looks better.'"

I see the frown on their face, but this time, I definitely sparked their interest. "There are many ways this could work, all you have to do, is bargain for good terms. Negotiate. Find things to bribe him with. You won't believe me now, but this can be quite fun."

"Fun?"

"Fun. Trust me on this. And don't let fights discourage you, they are just a thing. After our first fights, we didn't speak for centuries, then it became decades, then years. Nowadays we are down to mere days or even hours."

"Fine." Beelzebub still looks grumpy as usual, but also relieved somehow. "I'll do that, then."

"You know how to find him again?" I'm curious.

"Yes. I can sense where he is... sort of. I know it sounds weird, I can't really explain, how it works. It's just a feeling."

A feeling? Right. How would I have even the slightest idea how this feeling feels like? It's only been ... what? A few hundred years? A few thousand?

Why can't I pinpoint the moment when it started. I actually can't. It's always been the two of us. Always. Except for the brief times when he went up or I went down, I could always feel an earth with an Aziraphale in it.

Now it's empty. Hollow. I've never not felt him for such a long time.

I'm empty. Incomplete. Ripped to pieces at my very core.

"And, Crowley?"

"No, don't thank me.” Just go, be happy lovebirds or whatever. This has gone far enough already and I hope, I'm just too drunk to remember this entire conversation tomorrow."

~*~

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Things to Do Today

1. Sober up and get rid of hangover

2. Ponder on how ridiculous this is

3. Get drunk again because I can't deal with this sober

I thought they were off to Alpha Centauri. Living that sweet life we will never have...

Well, it seems things don't always work out for other people, too.

Obviously. But let's rewind to last night and try to sort this all out.

"I was going to mysteriously appear in your car", Beelzebub said, "but somehow I can't get in anymore."

Oh.

"Also, when I tried to miracle myself in, the car suddenly turned yellow. Like some kind of defense mechanism."

OH!

"Things have changed, Beelzebub. You have to be invited in. And I'm certainly not go... gonna do that."

"Well, that's all right." They take a step closer. "We can just talk here."

"And I certainly don't want to talk."

"I brought booze."

My eyes shift between the empty bottle I'm holding and the full bottle in their hands.

Sigh.

I throw the empty bottle into the Thames (Yes, I should litter, I'm a demon after all. And maybe some hermit crab can build a home in it. Or some little fish family. Oh, lookey here, it's Nemo and the guys.)

Beelzebub passes the full bottle to me. It's obviously not miracled out of Hell, it's good old Earth stuff.

Mhm. Smells like it, too. And I just remembered that Nemo is a saltwater fish.

And so are hermit crabs.

I take a deep sip. Well, obviously not fish, but well.. you know.

"I heard about Aziraphale," Beelzebub looks at me with a sympathetic gaze and suddenly I feel the need to throw up. "I'm sorry, things didn't work out."

Bloody Heaven! I'm not going to talk to them about Aziraphale. It's bad enough with Maggie and Nina trying to get me to talk about Aziraphale, but Beelzebub? Really?

This is one of the few times I'm actually speechless, but being a fellow demon, Beelzebub should fully well be able to read my death glare.

They do. "Well, that's all right. Gabriel and I broke up, too, and I don't want to talk about it either."

They WHAT? They thwarted both Heaven and Hell for their love and now they fall out of it after barely three months?

Lucky for the both of us, Beelzebub freezes the bottle in mid air before it smashes on the ground. They grab it, take a big sip and pass it back to me.

We stand in silence, staring at the river. All is quiet, except for the city noises in the background, the sound of the water and the occasional burp from one of us as we devour the alcohol.

I know, I'm gonna regret this. I'm gonna regret this big time.

"So", I ask, turning to Beelzebub. "What exactly happened?"

~*~

Older Diary Parts minus the Reblogs:

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8

Ngk. You've been a very very bad phone. I consider myself disappointed.

Be grateful that you are not a plant.

Phone, delete contact "Aziraphale"!

Hello! Big fan here.

Just a teeny little question.

Since you're somewhat a snake, do you enjoy things snakes enjoy as a humanoid? Heat lamps, nice rocks to scratch itches on, etc.?

Love your work, especially the M25. Wahoo!

🖤❤️🧡

Well, hello there, big fan.

No, I really prefer the cold.... naaaah! I enjoy warmth both as a snake and as a humanoid. Would use a heat lamp if there was no sun around. And no more angel to put a blanket over me when I'm cold.

As for rocks, no, I can scratch my own itches while in human form. I have hands for that.

And, no, I absolutely do not eat mice. Not even as a snake.

I'm no longer in the business of hellish road construction, so if you happen to have any trouble with bad traffic or crazy madmen drivers, it's not on me. Anyhow, wahoo to you, too!

This is beautiful. The memories hurt like worse than Hell, but I just want to look at my angel right now and have myself a good cry.

Somehow, I don't want to believe that something that lasted this long can simply be over in a heartbeat. It just can't be.

He can't be gone for good...

New Good Omens Fanvid!

This song was requested by the very kind and lovely @celestialcrowley, and I really hope I did their vision justice. Since it was meant to be a surprise edit, well, surprise! Here it is. (lol/yikes)

The song and artist are not familiar to me, but I had a good time working with what felt like a good edit to fit it. I even made two versions: this one, which I prefer, and a sadder one which might show up later. Anyway, it was an incredible honor to have someone ask for a song so I guess this is me saying have at it, if you want.

And I hope you enjoy this. :)