Latest Posts by secretdiaryofcrowley - Page 2

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. :)

Where we left off: Nina scolded me for being mean to Maggie...

Now she actually WANTS me to be mean to Maggie and even meaner to Muriel. People! Will you ever make sense?

But let's rewind and start... right here.

"For once in your life, trust somebody."

No, no, wait, that's too far back. A little further along.

"Fine", Nina says, although it's not. "You've made your point, Mr. Crowley."

Did I? And is my point pointy enough for you to go away, never come back and leave me to my misery?

It certainly seems so, because Nina backs away. "We can offer you our friendship, we cannot, however, make you accept it. I still think you're making a mistake, but the choice is yours, and you're old enough to take responsibility for your own actions."

She falls silent for a moment. The sun's setting with the buildings casting long shadows over the road.

"I'll leave you alone from now on." Nina half turns, looks back over her shoulder. Her features seem calmer than before, but there's still some anger in her eyes. "And Maggie will too, once you explain to her that you don't need or value her friendship. I trust, you will do this soon and won't leave her worrying about you any longer."

What? "Explain to her... what?"

"This. Do you think, ghosting is an appropriate behaviour?"

"I'm not a ghost, 'm a demon."

"Don't take it literal." She sighs. "Ghosting means not answering people's messages and pretending you aren't there. It's very hurtful to others because it leaves people worrying and they never get any closure. That's what you've been doing to Maggie and me and I haven't even started to talk about Muriel."

I didn't know there was a word for it, but I never meant to do anything. How can I do anything by doing nothing? It doesn’t make any sense.

And yet, I know she’s right. Doing nothing sometimes hurts people most of all. Simply standing by and just allowing things to happen.

“What’s that with Muriel? There’s a croak in my voice I can’t supress right now. “I don’t understand, what do they have to do with it?”

“She… wait, Muriel uses “they”? Nina seems surprised. “I assumed since you and Mr. Fell both look like guys and she… they chose to look like a woman... you can all choose what to look like, can’t you?”

Great. Humans are not supposed to know about any of these things. I hope no one tries to erase her memory or turns her into a pillar of salt.  

“Yes, we can, but Aziraphale and I have been to Earth for such a long time that we understand the concept of gender. We use the ‘he’ pronoun when we present male and the ‘she’ pronoun when we present female. Most angels don’t know or don’t worry about these things, so they go by “they” unless it feels right for them to go by something else. Muriel has only been to Earth for a couple of months and it’s their first time here, so they wouldn’t worry about gender or pronouns yet. “They” simply makes most sense in their case because it’s neutral and doesn’t assume anything. And before you ask, no, we don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

“Procreate. I thought that would probably be your next question.”

She tilts her head to the side, giving me a long apprehensive look. “So, you’ve had this kind of conversation with humans before.”

“Well... occasionally.” It’s not that I never had closer bonds with humans before. I just try to avoid it because it’s trouble.

Fortunately for me, Nina does not press the point.

Instead, she takes a deep breath and starts talking about Muriel.

~*~

More Diary Parts

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21

Smiles I will miss for the rest of my days on Earth.

Should've talked to him sooner, I guess. Before Heaven came and stole him away.

Why did it have to be so complicated to figure it all out?

Why is it always too late?

Just some wonderful smiles ❤️

Light So Heavenly

There is a GO project I wanted to share with you: This February, there was a very cool Good Omens Talent Show on @sendarya's Youtube channel.

There were lots of different categories, for example artwork, original songs, creatives and many many more. My Aziraphale @aziraphalesdiaries submitted a sonnet, which can be found on his youtube channel.

Another one of the categories was song parodies.

We wrote an entry for this one as well. Lyrics are mostly by me, edited by him. He did the recording and mixing of the song, I created the lyric video. Aziraphale's lines are sung by him, Crowley's by me.

The song contains our thoughts about the Final Fifteen, so be prepared for a bit of heartbreak.

As you might guess, "Light So Heavenly" is based on "Defying Gravity" from the musical Wicked.

Watch Light So Heavenly on Youtube.

Your thoughts and comments are greatly appreciated, on our blogs as well as on the video itself. Enjoy the song and leave us some love. Thank you.

Nope, no silly cards under my wipers. But apparently someone left me a Swiss chocolate Easter Bunny.

Two questions, people: 1. Which one of you was it? and 2. Is it poisoned?

Lucky for me, it doesn't even remotely look like Harry the Rabbit.

~ * ~

More Diary Parts

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21

I usually sleep through Easter. It's not as bad as Christmas, but still too many people rambling on about 'the-lord-our-saviour' before being cheerfully and positively nasty to each other.

I can only hope, no one puts any Easter cards with "Harry, the rabbit" under my Bentley's wipers.

~ * ~

More Diary Parts

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13

Well, I don't know about the Crowleys of other people's headcanons, but as for me, I'm never setting foot in that bookshop again.

What should I do in a place where he isn't, but everything reminds me of him? Torture myself on purpose? Get Muriel into even more trouble with Heaven so their superiors kick them out and he looses the bookshop for good?

And besides... walking back into a place where I just made a very dramatic exit from - nah, not really my style. So, no bookshop for me.

I've been hanging out in my car ever since the shop was entrusted to Muriel, and Hell still refuses to give me back my flat.

And my Bentley doesn't even remotely look like a beach. It's not gonna start being yellow again.

Fascinating that the fandom has basically torn itself apart about Aziraphale…what are his intentions? his motivations? did he do the right thing in going back? what’s he planning? …but everyone just somehow agreed that Crowley’s one job in s3 is to hang out in the bookshop until Aziraphale gets back…basically his s3 job is Beach.

Just a little bit of out-of-character meta

In the first scene, Aziraphale tries very hard to convince the other angels that Crowley is an enemy. It doesn't work for all of them because Michael grows suspicious, but the others seem fairly convinced, he's telling the truth.

In the second scene, Aziraphale tries to convince Crowley that the Metatron is a good guy. The phrasing he uses is similar as in the first scene, and so is his tone of voice.

I think it's possible that at this point of the story Aziraphale already feels or even understands that the Metatron is not a good guy, but he either tries to convince himself that this feeling is wrong or he tries to keep up appearances.

Of course, it's entirely possible that the similarity between both scenes is a coincidence, but in GO there are so many hidden clues between the lines that there might be some significance to it.

Yup, my thoughts exactly.

I'm still waiting for it to work, though. So far, the nasty bugger is still there and shows no signs of going away.

Heartbreak. That's what it is. I always thought it's just a figure of speech, when humans call that way. But it's true. My heart aches as if it was smashed to smithereens.

I wonder if it feels the same way for him...

crowley starts a journal to deal with the grief.

Where we left off:

Nina, purveyor of coffee, whirling into the scene like a thunderstorm, woke our hero from his precious sleep (and a weird dream) to give him - me - another telling-off.

She's quite scary when she's angry. Not demon scary, but most definitely human scary.

"Do you even understand how all of this affects Maggie?" I'm not surprised at the burst of emotion in her voice as she says the name.

"She's been worried sick about you! Trying to write to you, trying to call you, and some days even waiting by your car for you to wake up, so she could make sure you're all right."

"I'm not." How does she even find me? I drive around and park the Bentley in different places every couple of days.

"We KNOW. Do you think none of us has gone through breakup before?"

Well, maybe you have. I certainly haven't. I don't do relationships and I have no idea how to process this. Except for drinking, sleeping and curling up in a little snake ball of pain.

"Of course it's bad. It hurts like hell..."

Worse. Speaking from experience here.

"... and you have every right to be sad and mopey and angry, but stop shutting out your friends. Talk to us! At least let us know where you are and what's going on."

"I don't have friends. Never wanted friends. Completely friendless person, me."

She sighs. "Yes, you're a devil and you're evil, blah blah blah, real man solves his problems on his own. Heard all of that before, except maybe the devil part. But you've got to realize that your actions have consequences for others. You're not alone in this world."

But I am.

I've always been alone. For 6000 years on this godforsaken planet, doing the bidding of my ridiculous headoffice and trying not to go completely insane. Using every excuse to be close to my angel and every excuse not to get too close, so we wouldn't be in trouble. Missing him after every encounter, every meeting, every conversation. Sometimes positively yearning for his presence, but never ever being able to act on it.

Because that's just the way things are.

I was alone the last time I hit rock bottom. Healing one step at a time, slowly piecing myself together after my 33 years of torture. Because I allowed myself to save one human soul and got caught at it. One. Single. Human. Soul.

No good deed goes unpunished.

I never had anyone to talk to because angels are my enemies, demons are my rivals and humans wouldn't be able to shoulder all this bullshit that's been going on with me. And God doesn’t answer to any of us.

And yet, Nina has the nerve to come here, shake me awake and tell me that I'm not alone? That I’m supposed to 'talk about it'? Throw overboard all my harshly earned survival skills because now apparently, I have friends?

No, absolutely not. I don't make 'friends' with other people. It's not something demons - the word is demon, not devil - do. You can stop pretending to care now and walk away.

She doesn’t.

Instead, she throws my very own words back at me. “For once in your life trust somebody!”

~ * ~

More Diary Parts

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21

I'm not a native speaker of Spanish, but a friend of mine offers the following translations:

"me diste un golpecito en la nariz" (you poked me on the nose)

"me has hecho 'boop'" (you booped me)

In German, boop means "tatzeln".

"I boop you" means "Ich tatzel dich".

How do you say boop in your language?

Please reblog and add yours, let's see, how many languages we can get together.

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?

~ * ~

More Diary Parts

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21

Didn't you have a booping paw?

This. *points at picture with a shaky hand*

I want my angel back so bad. 😭

Screw Heaven! Again.

I just want them to be happy again 😭

Another print choice for my Acid Rain tier in Patreon (extended into April since this was finished late)

Anonymous asked:

"How do you know that 'Sorrows of Satan' is a better book than 'Faust' if you don't even read books?"

1. Lovely, clever human people inventing cars, and motorways... and audiobooks. 

2. Actually met Marie Corelli because downstairs was very interested in her soul. Needless to say, she thwarted me pretty much the same way her character Mavis did with Lucio/Satan. Also, needless to say, Satan in the book took the rejection much better than sulky old me. Never met Goethe though, his soul was always too sure a thing.

3. An angel I used to know got the book recommended by some Irish bloke we both used to know - Oscar - I believe. Wrote books, too, and they threw him in prison for no other reason than having a boyfriend... People, *shakes head* I will never get the hang of you.

Anyhow, said angel was head over heels for the book and went on for hours how the heroine is a clever, free-spirited, and creative author while Goethe's Gretchen is the typical two-dimensional saint-harlot that male authors used to write back in the days.

4. 'm a Demon! *snorts* I might have lied.

I usually sleep through Easter. It's not as bad as Christmas, but still too many people rambling on about 'the-lord-our-saviour' before being cheerfully and positively nasty to each other.

I can only hope, no one puts any Easter cards with "Harry, the rabbit" under my Bentley's wipers.

~ * ~

More Diary Parts

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19

All ways lead to you.

All ways, always.

Especially during those times when we couldn't be together, I knew deep inside that I would find my way back to you. Or you to me.

I could feel you, even when you were away. I might feel empty, lonely at times, but there was always this warm golden glow of your presence. Sometimes very close, sometimes further away, but it was always there.

One time I couldn't feel it, was during those decades down in Hell. But I had the memory of it and that was enough to keep me fighting. Keep me from giving up. I needed to survive to find you again. And I did.

One time I couldn't feel it, was when your bookshop burned down and you were discorporated. But then, it was you who found your way back to me.

And now you're gone. That beautiful golden glow has vanished. Where there used to be light, only darkness remains. Where there used to be bright colours, everything is damp and gloomy and hollow.

I lost my way because there's no you my way can lead to,

I can't come back because there's no you to come back to.

Earth is empty without your presence.

And so is my heart.

lost my way and i can't come back

Things To Do Today

Drive.

Just drive

Nothing else.

Waking up this morning, I knew instantly that today is a driving day. I've sobered up to get rid of the hangover, but my headache's still there and it's persistent. Should've sobered up yesterday night, but I kinda like the fuzzy head. Keeps me from thinking.

If there's enough pain in my head, I suppose, I won't worry too much about the pain in my heart.

I don't want to go anywhere near the bookshop. I don't, but I need to return the CD to Muriel before it looses its song. Still, I drive around all day to work up the courage.

The song starts five or six times while I'm driving back to Soho. I try to listen, but in the end I always turn it off. My car turns it back on. I turn it back off.

At the horizon, far beyond the end of the road, the sun's going down in a blaze of red and orange. Like the whole world was about to end in fire.

The street lanterns at Whickber Street flicker on as I pass through. The stores are closed at this hour, but there's still light in most of the restaurants and, of course, the pub.

I could go there, have a whiskey. Or I could have a bottle of wine at Marguerite's or a bottle of Tsingtao at Mr & Mrs Chen's place.

No, I can't. It would never be just one glass or one bottle. Wasting yourself on your own is fine, but not in front of people you used know. Not front of people he used to know.

If I was human, I'd probably be dead in a ditch somewhere three times over. Being who I am, I know how far I can take this. This may be the worst time, but it is certainly not the first.

It's not even the first time I got my heart ripped out, but last time happened to be a bit more literal.

Do mine eyes deceive me? There's light in the bookshop. No, not in the shop itself, but up in the flat, in the very guest room that Gabriel used to live in when he was Jim.

For a brief moment I allow myself to imagine what it would be like if Aziraphale was still in there. He'd notice I was on my way and open the door for me. And then we'd sit inside and talk about something or other, have a drink or two, and maybe talk some more. He would have a snack and I would watch him eat. He would get excited about something and bounce around and I would listen to the ridiclous sounds coming out of his mouth.

And watch his smile. That beautiful beautiful smile. And everything would just be fine for a few hours.

A familiar silhouette at the window. Muriel is sitting there, probably on the inside sill, their head bent over a book they're holding. They're a fast reader, turning the pages at a quick and steady pace.

I wonder why Muriel didn't take Aziraphale's room. It's bigger than the guest room and it's not like he'll be back anytime soon.

Angels and their faith...

I drop the CD in the letterbox inside the door, trying to avoid any noises. Back on the road, I look up to the window again.

Muriel still seems busy with their book. I hope, they read all the brilliant ones first, then the good ones before moving on to the trash that they inevitably will find.

But then, these humans never can tell the difference. Goethe's Faust was a good book. Marie Corelli's Sorrows of Satan was a brilliant one.

I cross the road and signal for my car to come pick me up. Nina is still inside her closed-for-the-night-coffee shop sitting at a table across Maggie. They're talking to each other and they both look worried.

Time to get out of here. Just as the Bentley speeds around the corner, Maggie spots me and starts waving frantically. Nina looks up, too, her expression a mix and match between a sigh of relief and a death glare.

No. No talk. I don't want to talk to any of you. I did what I came for and now I'm leaving.

Just leave me alone, all of you!

~ * ~

More Diary Parts:

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21

No, not really falling. More like... sauntering vaguely towards him.

But yes, ending up in another pool of burning lava. 🌋🐍😭

You know what I was just thinking about? That feeling when you fall hard for someone you can't have.

And every time you see them your heart jumps. You drop EVERYTHING for a chance to spend time with them. Hearing from them lights you up, and your life can be divided between the time you get to spend with them and the time spent waiting to be with them again.

That agonising, heartbreaking, soul-crushing feeling of having fallen so deep that you can't see a way out, and you don't even want to.

Now imagine that going on for hundreds of years.

And then, when it finally looks like there might be a way out, together, it gets ripped away.

I was just thinking about that.

Some people's minds are actually able to express what I'm feeling right now. That's a lot of talent and skill to say "backstabbed" is it not?

I wonder if he feels the same way because I turned down his offer to join him in heaven.

But he couldn't actually have believed I'd ever go back there, could he?

Smitten

There's yet another note from Muriel under my wipers. I was going to burn this one as well, but there was a CD with it. And while you can burn CDs as well, they actually smell. Smell bad.

So no burning today.

I can't however keep the CD. I don't have a flat anymore where I could keep it. And if it's inside the Bentley for too long it will just turn into another Queen album. That would - kind of - be the same as burning it, just without the smell.

However, I can't decide whether this song makes things better or worse.

Probably both.

I think, today is one of those driving around days.

I will drop the CD into the letter box at the bookstore tonight. The polite thing to do would be to leave a note with it. Something like: 'Thanks for lending this to me.'

The only problem is, I don't know how closely Heaven observes the bookshop. If they find notes from a demon in there, Muriel could get into big trouble. Can't have that. I'm somewhat relieved they didn't get into trouble for helping me uncover the truth about Gabriel.

Without a note, the CD will just be a CD. Nothing to get into trouble for.

Muriel will probably think me rude, but that's okay. Demons are supposed to be rude. I'd rather the little bee thinks me the rudest person on Earth, but doesn't get punished by Heaven for "fraternizing with the enemy" as angels call it.

@muriel-not-the-dim-one

Mr. Crowley 💔✨🪽

~Muriel looks outside the bookshop window, the Bentley parked in front of Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death. They didn’t think it was going to be this easy to give something to Mr. Crowley.~

The sun not yet coming up over Soho. The moonlight and fog causing the evening dew to glitter like diamonds on the Bentley in the soft street lamp glow.

They had found this a few days ago, only it was an LP, as Mr. Fell and Maggie called them. They were glad they hadn’t traded, but managed to order a CD from Maggie.

Wrapping it tightly in their meticulously handwritten note, they bravely walked out the front door, headed towards the Bentley.

The sunshine just cresting above the rooftops, cast thin rays of sunshine that colliding with the window of the car, caught the scarlet, carmine, and vermillion hues of Crowley’s hair as he slept. How could anything so beautiful ever be considered evil?

Quietly Muriel slipped the cd and note under the wiper of the Bentley, turned and hurried back into the bookshop.

A soft smile on their face, content they had done the right thing.

**Goodnight my angel, time to close your eyes

And save these questions for another day

I think I know what you've been asking me

I think you know what I've been trying to say

I promised I would never leave you

Then you should always know

Wherever you may go, no matter where you are

I never will be far away

Goodnight my angel, now it's time to sleep

And still so many things I want to say

Remember all the songs you sang for me

When we went sailing on an emerald bay

And like a boat out on the ocean

I'm rocking you to sleep

The water's dark and deep, inside this ancient heart

You'll always be a part of me

Goodnight my angel, now it's time to dream

And dream how wonderful your life will be

Someday your child may cry, and if you sing this lullaby

Then in your heart there will always be a part of me

Someday we'll all be gone

But lullabies go on and on

They never die

That's how you and I will be**

**Transcribed by Muriel, 37th Scrivener**

Mr. Crowley, I found these wrapped within Mr. Fells journals. I thought you should have them. ✨🤍

Faithfully Yours,

AJC

@secretdiaryofcrowley

@aziraphalesdiaries

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."

~*~

More Diary Parts:

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21

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

One last day to go at Leipzig bookfair.

Until I continue the diary, I'll leave you some very cute pics of Crowley and Aziraphale cosplayers whom I saw walking by our booth.

There even was a big cosplay meetup of about fourty to fifty people, which I unfortunately couldn't attend 'cause I was working. Well, maybe next time. 😁

This diary is going on a short break 'til next week.

The person behind this blog is on a bookfair working very long hours and until I'm back, I'll let Crowley sleep in his beloved Bentley.

Let's all take a moment to savour the irony of a Crowley-coded person selling his books on a bookfair.

Not even at gunpoint and such. 👍😂

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"!

Oh, Angel... please don't let them break you.

𝘖𝘩 𝘈𝘻𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘦…

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?"

~*~

More Diary Parts:

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21

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

Things to Do Tonight

Drink

Get drunk.

Get very very drunk

Don't want to sit in a pub. Pub's full of people and if I miracle-shoo them all out, I will just draw attention to myself. Don't need that now. I draw enough attention as it is. I'm taking out the bottle, walk over the bridge and look at the Thames.

Pretty little stars in the water. Not the real thing, but still pretty. Glittering like anything.

Why does everyone always seem to know where my car is? I keep driving the Bentley around, don't want to stay in one place for too long. Other demons can spot me, of course. But these little notes and letters from Maggie and Nina and Muriel keep finding me, too.

Bla bla bla coffee. Bla bla bla talk. Bla bla bla we're here for you bla bla bla you don't have to go through this alone.

Go away. Just go away.

I've been on my own for 6000 years, I don't plan on changing that now. And least of all with humans who shouldn't be dragged into this. Friendship with humans never ends well, someone always gets turned into pillars of salt.

Or killed. One minute Kain's a baby pulling my hair and puking all over my robes, next thing, you know, he's an angry teenager smacking his brother with a stone. Broke Eve's heart. Should've stayed away.

And Muriel keeps writing about all the books they've been reading and keeps asking stuff about customers and taxes and stockkeeping and why would I know any of this? Nina and Maggie run shops, too, they're far better with these things.

Do you actually want to get in trouble with heaven, little bee? Can you even imagine what they could do to you for hanging out with a demon?

'M not stupid, you know, I know it's you trying to reach me from the bookshop's number. I can only hope Shax was too stupid to read any of your little notes, when she put my mail under the wipers. I don't think she has back channels to rat you out to heaven, but you never know.

Did the real stars look as glittery as their reflection in the water?

Whatever. You don't miss what you can't remember, right? If I wanted to see stars, I could just go watch a Disney movie.

Now where did I park the Bentley? Why does everyone always seem to know where my car is, except for me, myself and I?

"Hello Crowley."

No no no no no no, not you. Not you, too.

Why can't you just all go away and let me wallow in my misery?

~ * ~

More Diary Parts:

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21

Things to Do Today

Slee.. oh, wait!

There's a missed call from Aziraphale on my phone.

Yes, that's his name on the display. Did they finally insist on giving him a mobile phone in heaven? Even if they did, how would my phone know that it's him? Wouldn't it just be Unknown Number?

The number connected to his name in my phone is the number of the bookshop. He no longer is in the bookshop. If he was in the bookshop, I would feel that he's on Earth. I no longer feel him on Earth, so he can't be on Earth and in the bookshop.

Phone, delete missed call.

Phone, delete contact Aziraphale.

Phone, block this number!

~ * ~

More Diary Parts:

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17

"How many decent writers do you lot even have up there? Because Neil Gaiman's one of ours. 😎

Terry Pratchett? One of ours. Oscar Wilde? Definitly ours. Shakespeare, Goethe, Hesse, Virginia Woolf and Mary Shelly? So very definitely ours. 😈

Have yourselves a merry little eternity with C.S. Lewis and Stephenie Meyer! 😇"

You’ll pay for this, Neil. Writers’ Hell awaits