Absolutely.

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!

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.

Things To Do Today

Sleep

Yell at plants

Get some more drink - I'm down to the last bottle. Again.

Another note under the wipers. This one's from Maggie. She wants to meet up for coffee in Nina's coffee shop. Also it seems, this is not the first time she's wanting this.

No, no, no, no, no. No coffee for me.

I worry too much that I'm gonna ask for death.

~ * ~

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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.

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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.

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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.

Exactly. I would give anything for this right now.

What is the key to enjoying life? (x)

Good. So, there's at least one universe that has a happily-ever-after in store for us. Congrats to you, other me!

I will read your entries, while I drive around in my Bentley missing my angel who has gone up to Heaven and whom I probably will never see again.

Wait... reading and driving at the same time might not be the best of ideas...

I’d like to announce that after many, many years of courtship, I have participated in the very human (and quite romantic) act of marriage.

It was even better than Jane Austen presented.

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.

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Trying to talk to Maggie and to Muriel – Attempt Nr.2

Hi Maggie, please tell Muriel to come over to the record shop, so that I need to say this only once: Stop trying to talk to me, the both of you. Stop sending me notes, stop trying to call me, just stop doing anything about me. I am not your friend and never will be.

There, you have it. Nice and short.

The only problem is, if I put it like that, Maggie will probably cry and Nina will give me her angry face again. And Muriel will look at me with those big brown eyes and think it’s their fault. And perhaps cry, too.

Enough! No more crying. I’m sick of blowing my nose all the time. It gets all red and blotchy. Why do noses always have to run when you cry! Major design flaw if you ask me. But I forgot, you are not asking, @the-almighty-god. You’re just playing your ineffable game. Next time, please play Dungeons & Dragons with us. At least that one has uhm…. dungeons and dragons and elves and Bags of Holding in it. I would quite like a Bag of Holding, then I could’ve kept all of my plants when Hell kicked me out of my flat.

Okay, next try: Hi Maggie and Muriel. I can’t be your friend because I don’t do friendships. Bye.

That one’s so short, I could actually write it on a card. Maybe I should, then I don’t have to talk to them. But Nina was very specific about this one. If you don’t want friends, you have to tell people to go away and you have to do it in person. Writing will not do, texting will not do, and simply going away until they forget about you will not do either. That one least of all.

Nina says, the truth is painful, but at least they’ll have a clean cut and they can start to heal. They can’t when I just leave them hanging. No closure.

Hi Maggie and Muriel. I don’t want to be your friend because I’m scared. Scared that I’ll get hurt when I open up to someone. Scared that you’ll get hurt, when Heaven and Hell start doing their thing again and we all get caught in the crossfire.

No, by ‘the truth’ I didn’t mean ‘that much truth’.

Just the clean cut. The one we never got to have. First, I walked out, then he walked away. We never sorted anything out. Did he leave because he chose Heaven over me? Did he leave because he chose Heaven for me? Did we break up? How can we break up if we aren’t even together? Are we still friends, or is everything over for good?

What does he want with Heaven? Does he truly believe, he can make a difference? Was it just an excuse to get away? Why did he kiss me back and then told me, he forgives me? Did he even listen to anything I said?

Why suddenly dance with me at the ball when he refused to dance with me back in 1941 when I asked him to? Why does he want me to be an angel again? Am I not okay for him the way I am? Does he even want to be “an us”, or did he at least want it before everything went down the drain? Does he still think about me as he is up there, doing God knows what?

Is he thinking of me right now? Perhaps this very moment?

I slam on the brakes and let the Bentley spin to the right, so the car behind me passes by without hitting me. The driver yells something rude, but I’m not listening to him. My mind is full of questions and I can’t answer a single one of them.  

No closure. No clean cut. Just pain.

I can’t heal because I’m left hanging. I can’t move on with my life because I don’t know what’s there to move on to and what there isn't. Is he still a part of this life or is he gone for good?

I’m on hold. I’m on hold like a human on a phone who doesn’t know if they should hang up or if they should wait for the conversation to continue. When Beelzebub came to talk to me about Gabriel, I understood immediately what was going on with them. Why can I not understand what is going on with us?

Again Nina’s words: “But then, other people’s love lives always seem so much more straightforward than our own.”

I start the Bentley’s engine again, but before I can bring my foot down, I freeze.

“Hello, traitor.”

 No literal freezing. Just a jumpscare.

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

~*~

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@aziraphalesdiaries @muriel-not-the-dim-one

Diary Entries on AO3

Since a few people asked me to post the diary entries to AO3, I started to put them together and post them there:

Aziraphales Diaries and the Secret (not so Secret) Diary of Crowley

I can't promise you, however, that everything is going to make sense in the end.

I'm basically a heartbroken demon living in a Bentley, who lost the love of his life (me, not the Bentley). I'm drunk half of the time, I'm asleep the other half, I'm driving around and ranting when I'm neither drunk nor asleep, and I just want to be left alone by all those people constantly wanting something of me.

Yup, that's my life in a nutshell.

(Luckily, the person behind my diary is neither an alcoholic nor a demon, just a regular human, but still very very heartbroken from watching a certain series called 'Good Omens' and especially something called 'The Final Fifteen'. (Whatever that is.)

But I do believe, somehow, that particular person wishes me to be reunited with my angel in the end.)