meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat

[meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat]

Crowley should try to play guitar!!

Today Crowley tried to learn guitar, but after a few hours he lost the pick inside the soundhole, which seemed to lead to some kind of pocket dimension where it was impossible to retrieve.

He sighed and miracled the guitar to play Queen by itself and idly watched the strings move as he drank.

[meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat]

Today Crowley used up the last of his brand new stationary in a big crumpled heap of attempts at letter writing.

[meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat]

Today Crowley miracles up fancy stationary that says "Duke of Hell," just in case he'd like to send a letter.

[meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat]

Today Shax laughed when presented with the contract, and immediately tried to burn it, but it wouldn't burn. She ordered Dagon to go over it with a shark-toothed comb, but after hours of scrutiny the contract was found to be infernally binding.

Both Dagon and Shax curtsied to Crowley and mumbled "My Duke" as he sauntered away.

[meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat]

Today Crowley drew up a contract, claiming the right to "whatever his little heart desires" as offered by the previous Prince of Hell, giving him the title of Duke of Hell, with all of the privileges and none of the responsibilities. It solidified the flat in his name and guaranteed he and Aziraphale the right to continue living on Earth unimpeded.

It wasn't much different from his previous agreement, except he wanted to be addressed as Duke with a curtsy.

[meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat]

Today Crowley spends some time imagining the look on Aziraphale's face if he did decide to become a Duke of Hell.

[meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat]

Today Crowley holds his phone in his hand, wondering idly since he found Gabriel if the offer from Beelzebub still stands.

[meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat]

Today one of Crowley's plants trembled so hard it fell off the table and broke. Crowley crossed to it, fully intending to carry it to the garbage disposal, but instead stared at the broken pieces in his hand.

It didn't mean to fall.

Eventually Crowley got up and repotted the plant.

[meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat]

Today Crowley watches Dancing with the Birds on repeat.

[meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat]

Today Crowley went on a picnic alone, but for some reason, on this bright May afternoon, he didn't feel alone.

[meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat]

Today as Crowley crawled out from under the desk, he realized to his horror that a bookshop was the worst place for a rift in reality. Muriel could be lost inside any of the books, right now...

He rubbed his brow. This could get annoying. Or it could be fun. Well, he decided, it's not like he was doing anything else right now. He wrote "check under the bookshop desk" on his arm, since he seemed to quickly forget going inside the rift each time he did.

Crowley walked across the street for a coffee. Caffeine was desperately needed before trying that vortex again.

He vaguely wondered what Aziraphale was up to.

@meanwhile-at-the-bookshop

@meanwhile-in-heaven

[meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat]

Today Crowley was a pirate at sea. He looked out at the stormy waves of the ocean, and it reminded him of his merangel's eyes. Their love was forbidden, and so they loved each other at a distance to keep each other safe. He yelled to the crew, "All hands on deck!" as the clouds turned darker and the winds became stronger. And yet, even now, with their future uncertain and a maelstrom on the horizon, all he could think about was Aziraphale's twinkling hazel eyes...

[meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat]

Today Crowley crawled under Aziraphale's public desk and found it - a tiny, infinitely small tear in the fabric of reality. These things happened from time to time, and could easily explain why Muriel was missing, and why he kept losing memories. He leaned in, and got a little too close...

[meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat]

Today Crowley was back in his flat. Last thing he knew, he was in the bookshop, crawling under Aziraphale's public desk, and time slipped. He couldn't remember what happened after, something vague about helping prevent a cat paw invasion. It didn't make sense, unless it was some kind of alternate reality he was remembering. He decided he needed to investigate again, and jumped in the Bentley to head back to the bookshop.

[meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat]

Today Crowley felt something strange in the bookshop he hadn't noticed before - he crawled under Aziraphale's public desk and found it - a tiny, infinitely small tear in the fabric of reality. These things happened from time to time, and could easily explain why Muriel was missing, and why he kept losing memories. He sighed. Last time this happened, he'd ended up in the American old west with Aziraphale and had barely escaped a brawl. He carefully leaned in, and was startled to notice a giant cat paw, just on the other side.

Oh no. Not again....

[meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat]

Today Crowley woke up in his flat. He thought he was just in the bookshop, trying to find clues for why Muriel was missing, but then next thing he knew he was in his flat. He checked his calendar, and it was Sunday. He'd somehow lost an entire day. He had a bad feeling he knew exactly what this meant, and headed back to the bookshop.

[meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat]

Today Crowley decides to investigate more thoroughly inside the bookshop, and see if he can find any capital "C" Clues left on where Muriel might have gone.

He looks in every corner, but instead of clues all he finds are memories from years spent in the bookshop with his angel, gathered in a giant heap under the desk.

@meanwhile-at-the-bookshop