On Brûlera

"Nah, he's not monstrous, that's utterly ridiculous. He always puts other people's happiness before his own. He doesn't even permit himself to dance with me unless he plans a Jane Austen ball (she has balls) for other people's happiness first.

No, he never was abusive. He was supportive whenever he could and sometimes even, when it would have been the smarter thing to keep his mouth shut.

But, yes, he's a prick. Throwing away everything we could've had, just because he thinks, he can do goody-good in heaven.

They'll roast him alive.

Which they tried to do before."

Fandom acting like Aziraphale is the Bad Guy for asking Crowley to become an angel again is something else. I'm not arguing that offering to turn him into an angel again was the right thing to do, but CONTEXT MATTERS!!

Things Crowley has canonically said about his fall:

"I never asked to be a demon. I was just minding my own business one day and then… Oh, lookie here, it’s Lucifer and the guys. Oh, hey, the food hadn’t been that good lately. I didn’t have anything on for the rest of that afternoon. Next thing, I’m doing a million-light-year freestyle dive into a pool of boiling sulphur." (Aziraphale appeared to Crowley right after he said this so it's not outside of the realm of possibility that he found Crowley by following his voice in the first place.)

"I didn't mean to fall. I just hung around the wrong people."

"I didn't really fall. I just, you know, sauntered vaguely downwards." (Crowley says this to Aziraphale in the same scene he asks for holy water.)

Crowley was turned into a demon against his will.

Crowley hates being a demon too. It makes sense that Aziraphale would mistakenly believe that Crowley might accept the idea of becoming an angel again if what we were witnessing was Aziraphale being honest with Crowley in the final fifteen.

Again, I'm not saying he was right to ask that of Crowley, but let's not just decide that Aziraphale is a Bad Person for asking when he's witnessed ways in which Crowley has suffered as a demon.

There is indeed a lesson to be learned here, but why bring a little more context into the situation when it's just easier to villainize Aziraphale, am I right?

Yes, he was wrong to ask Crowley to become an angel again because it's not what Crowley wants. No, he's not a monster for offering. This is seriously all because of their stunning inability to communicate what it is they actually want.

Aziraphale has to break free from whatever hold Heaven still has on him, but he doesn't deserve to be treated like the Bad Guy.

It is entirely possible to criticize Aziraphale's actions without painting him as a monstrous abusive prick.

I don't know what's worse...

That he doesn't lo... doesn't want to be with me or that he would want to be with me if I was an angel.

~ * ~

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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.

Cat Booped Me Awake Today

Seems like I slept through another week. If it weren't for the cat, I would probably be sleeping still. Shouldn't leave the window open.

Things I Did Today:

Ate the rest of Shax' chocolates, simply because I'm booored. They were not poisoned.

Drove around for a bit.

Drove by the bookshop

Made another attempt at telling Muriel (or Maggie) I don't want be their friend. The attempt consisted of me sitting in the car in front of the bookshop

Drove away again

Drove by the University where they gave away old books today. They do that from time to time because they get lots of books from private collections, but they don't have room to store them all.

Took a few boxes of books and stored them in the bentley.

The plants were not pleased

Drove back to the bookshop

Placed the boxes by the door

Wrote a note to Muriel

~*~

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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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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.

"Back in 1941 when we were in the bookshop, there was this song playing on the radio that Aziraphale liked so much. Something about angels dining at the Ritz and a nightingale.

He still refused to dance with me, though, because well, angels don't dance.

A few days later, though, when I drove by the bookshop, I saw him dancing in there all alone by himself. His eyes were closed and he had this dreamy far-off expression on his face that he sometimes gets when he reads one of his favourite books or smells some very delicious food. I've also seen this expression when he listens to his favourite composers, but never before with a modern song.

So, angels do dance, they just do it when no one's looking. I suppose, the cat's not dead as long as no one opens the box.

The very same song was playing on the radio again. Of course, I couldn't hear it through the windows of the bookshop, but I had the radio turned on in the car.

Some time after the war, when the song stopped being famous and wasn't played on the radio anymore, I sent Aziraphale a record of it. He never mentioned it, but he must have known it was from me because he said something about dining at the Ritz in a conversation we had a few years later.

Actually, the song isn't even about angels dining at the Ritz, that's just a figure of speech. It's about two lovers who spend one magical night with each other, but for some reason, they can't stay together and have to say goodbye in the morning.

I have the head canon that at some point, I like to think 1941, Crowley tried to slow dance with Aziraphale. He just got caught up in the moment and the music, extended their hand and said something like ‘may I have this dance’ or something like that. In response Aziraphale, even though he wanted to with every fibre of his celestial being, only sat up straight,cleared his throat and said ‘ Crowley, you know quite well that angels don’t dance’ and Crowley sat down again.

That’s why Crowley says‘you don’t dance’ at the ball.

To have known your love and lost it - it feels like Falling a second time.

"You do not know me."

(But oh, how he wishes you did.)

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

(Video created by @user-cc4yz2ox5k)

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"!