Nope, No Silly Cards Under My Wipers. But Apparently Someone Left Me A Swiss Chocolate Easter Bunny.

Mhm... Ermmm... chrchrchr... glll... mmm... Ngk!

(Video created by @user-cc4yz2ox5k)

Yours truly in a nutshell. 😈

#just crowley things (aziraphale)

Absolutely.

I will rise like Phoenix from the ashes... (though not in the way, Shax intended me to.) chrchrchrm....

Despite everything...

Didn't you have a booping paw?

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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“Hello, Traitor.”

How?

How, how, how? How can she be in here?

I just got used to the fact that my Bentley has angelic protection now. And that protection didn't fade away when my angel left for Heaven. Demons can't be in here; they’d have to be invited in.

Shax obviously can. “I was going to pull you down to my new office, as it seems befitting for my new position. But you’re so miserable already, I didn’t want to drag you out of your safe space."

No, you just wanna throw it right into my face that you can be in said safe space without any consequences. Don't think I don't recognize your tactics.

"Besides, Hell doesn’t need to know about our little talk, do they?”

"Oh, are we having a talk?" Slouching in my seat I lean back, giving her my cheekiest smirk. Oh, I can feel her new powers emanating from her and I don't know what she's capable of, but there's no way in Hell, I'll show her any fear. Two can play this game.

"We are. I brought chocolates."

"Chocolates?" My face freezes again, this time with astonishment. "You honestly think, I can be won over with chocolates?"

She eyes me from the side. "Well, my first intent was using death threats, but after watching you cry and whine and sob all these last months, I didn't think you would mind discorporation or even destruction so much. If I threatened you, you'd probably respond with something like: 'I don't want to live without my angel!' or 'Please kill me already.' So, I decided not to do you that favour.”

All these last months watching Crowley TV? “Oh, so glad, I could contribute to your amusement with my misery.”

“You couldn’t. Although my associate quite enjoyed seeing you like this... Oh, that was sarcasm, wasn’t it? I’m getting very good at spotting it.”

“Oh, are you? My sincerest congratulations on making Duchess of Hell, then.”

“Thank you.” Shax looks very pleased with herself. “Finally, the next step in my career. Beelzebub was right about their departure offering chances. It won’t stop at this stage, though. I have great plans for my future.”

“Lemme guess.” I take a closer look at the box of chocolates lying on the dashboard. “Grand Duchess of Hell, Princess of Hell, Mother of Demons…”

She brought schnapspralinen. What am I gonna be, a kangaroo? Oh, but there’s whiskey and rum and vodka and ouzo and eau de vie and sake... oh, my! Pity, they aren’t full bottles, just tiny sips covered in chocolate.

“You’ve been out of Hell for a while.” Shax frowns, her giant face hovering over me. “But you do remember that demons don’t have… Crowley, what are you doing?”

“Right.” It’s all just a question of size, isn’t it? I’ll think, I’ll start with that round piece of cherry brandy. Ngk… why does that stupid pen have to be so heavy? And… bam! Nice little holey hole! Keep the good stuff flowing.

“Crowley! Will you stop this nonsense?”

She reaches for me, but I’m quicker, jumping down on the steering wheel to evade her hand. “What? A gift is a gift!”

“I want you to work for me, Crowley. You’ll get to be Duke of Hell, once I’m Grand Duchess. And you can have your flat back.”

“The Bentley’s fine. Lots and lots and lots of space for me to enjoy.” I slide down on one side of the steering wheel (hey, this is fun) and start to climb over the radio to get back on the dashboard.

This time, she’s quicker. Her hand comes down on me and she grabs me between her gloved fingers. “I could just squash you like a bug.”

“Right.” Tiny little tears spurt from my eyes. “My angel has left me for Heaven, please be merciful and end my suffering.”

“No. Stop being so pathetic.” She sets me down and I reach for the pen again. Your vodka’s mine, you pear-shaped piece of brittle chocolate. Hand it over right now!

There’s simply no way in Heaven or Hell I’m having the rest of this conversation sober.

~*~

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Exactly. I would give anything for this right now.

What is the key to enjoying life? (x)

Well as the Lily quoted the Will....

"Aziraphael, Aziraphael, wherefore art thou Aziraphael. For a book in any other cover would read so well.."

Besides, whyever would I need a potion to sleep? And, believe me, if Aziraphale tried to stab himself, he would most likely miss.

NEIL GAIMAN I AM SO SCARED THAT GOOD OMENS WON'T END HAPPILY☹️

It won't. It will have a very tragic ending. Crowley takes a sleeping potion, but Aziraphale thinks Crowley is dead and plunges a dagger deeply into his fair breast. Crowley wakes and, finding Aziraphale dead, becomes, in his heartbreak, a furniture delivery person and is crushed to death by a falling wardrobe. Then everybody cries.

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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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.