Crowley (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
integrity) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sirenspull2012-12-06 12:54 am
integrity) wrote in sirenspull2012-12-06 12:54 am
29 [Video] | Forward dated to the 7th.
[Crowley is alive.
This is a shocking fact, seeing as he fully expected to die. He even set up his so-called last will and testament, to set aside his funds and business transactions and all other sorts of things, in preparation for his death. However meaningless this universe is, Crowley is nothing but pragmatic. And as he sits in his chair, in his office, nothing seems out of the ordinary, save for a few things.
Once, he is holding a glass of liquor, which is hardly unusual. What is unusual is that his fingers grip it unusually tightly, almost as if he is convinced he is going to drop it. His eyes are lacking some of the spark that they usually hold, resigned and weary and ready to quit, though Crowley does not quit. He holds himself as someone who has lost a great deal but is far too stubborn to actually roll over and take it -- and as Crowley takes a sip of scotch, he clears his throat and speaks, his words slurring only slightly. He has great practice in speaking while intoxicated.]
I saw God yesterday, while I was stabbing my friend to death.
[Crowley considers that for a moment before he decides 'screw it' and finishes off his glass.]
I suppose I should get an attorney for that incriminating statement, but I'm having difficulty caring, as God is the one who put him out of his misery. The same one who allowed our world to dissolve into chaos and misery and let's not forget what He allowed His own poor stupid useless children to do to it, they killed one another because Daddy never hugged them. And you know what the best part was?
[Crowley huffs a soft laugh as he puts the glass back down. His fingers twitch to themselves and, perhaps in a delayed reaction, the demon swipes his hand across the table to let the glass hit the ground and shatter. It was only crystal. He can just buy another.]
He was right in front of our faces the entire time, God, the witless wonder that thought it would be funny to create an entire dimension dedicated to souls shredding each other for punishment and thought it would be hilarious to let Lucifer break out of his Cage and thought it would be hysterical for Castiel to --
[But Crowley stops himself, because that is getting into something of a deep and personal moment for him, and one can't have that. Instead, his tone lowers to something soft as he pushes himself up, hands keeping himself steady at his desk.]
If you want to speak with the useless twat, our Savior, His name is Chuck Shurley. Pray to Him if you want to know why Castiel lost his mind and the Leviathan ate your friends. I'm certain He has all the answers in the world for why they existed in the first place.
[And Crowley shuts off his feed by knocking his NV off of his desk.]
This is a shocking fact, seeing as he fully expected to die. He even set up his so-called last will and testament, to set aside his funds and business transactions and all other sorts of things, in preparation for his death. However meaningless this universe is, Crowley is nothing but pragmatic. And as he sits in his chair, in his office, nothing seems out of the ordinary, save for a few things.
Once, he is holding a glass of liquor, which is hardly unusual. What is unusual is that his fingers grip it unusually tightly, almost as if he is convinced he is going to drop it. His eyes are lacking some of the spark that they usually hold, resigned and weary and ready to quit, though Crowley does not quit. He holds himself as someone who has lost a great deal but is far too stubborn to actually roll over and take it -- and as Crowley takes a sip of scotch, he clears his throat and speaks, his words slurring only slightly. He has great practice in speaking while intoxicated.]
I saw God yesterday, while I was stabbing my friend to death.
[Crowley considers that for a moment before he decides 'screw it' and finishes off his glass.]
I suppose I should get an attorney for that incriminating statement, but I'm having difficulty caring, as God is the one who put him out of his misery. The same one who allowed our world to dissolve into chaos and misery and let's not forget what He allowed His own poor stupid useless children to do to it, they killed one another because Daddy never hugged them. And you know what the best part was?
[Crowley huffs a soft laugh as he puts the glass back down. His fingers twitch to themselves and, perhaps in a delayed reaction, the demon swipes his hand across the table to let the glass hit the ground and shatter. It was only crystal. He can just buy another.]
He was right in front of our faces the entire time, God, the witless wonder that thought it would be funny to create an entire dimension dedicated to souls shredding each other for punishment and thought it would be hilarious to let Lucifer break out of his Cage and thought it would be hysterical for Castiel to --
[But Crowley stops himself, because that is getting into something of a deep and personal moment for him, and one can't have that. Instead, his tone lowers to something soft as he pushes himself up, hands keeping himself steady at his desk.]
If you want to speak with the useless twat, our Savior, His name is Chuck Shurley. Pray to Him if you want to know why Castiel lost his mind and the Leviathan ate your friends. I'm certain He has all the answers in the world for why they existed in the first place.
[And Crowley shuts off his feed by knocking his NV off of his desk.]
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But for real, fuck that. Fuck it. He's done and he has to keep being done or it's all meaningless.]
Just for the record, he's not lying.
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dont kill the joke man
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[It's not a hiss or a demand, but a cold tone of superiority, steeped in authority and anger.
Just because this is God does not make Crowley any less the ruler of Hell.]
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I'll show my face when we're both sober.
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The only favor I want you to do is to never speak to me again.
[It's a snarl as he shoves himself back up to his feet, fingers digging into the mahogany of his desk to keep himself standing up straight.]
And should Castiel return, with or without his memories -- should I discover that you've been speaking to him, associating with him, breathing on him, I am going to tear to shreds every single thing you love in this city and burn it to the ground, are we understood?
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[He leans forward, tone vicious, words slurred just a bit, but each question is punctuated with such a vile hatred that Crowley's fingers begin to shake as he curls them still tighter around the arms of his chair.]
Why aren't you coming home? Why won't you help me? Why do I have to die, over and over again? Why won't you just let me die? Why is it that I have to be the one to fix what everyone else broke, why do I have to fix the world, why won't you answer me when I've given everything to you?
[He sucks in a breath, the air rattling in his chest.]
Continue ignoring him as you always have, because you aren't going to get his hopes up that you care when everyone but Castiel is intelligent enough to know otherwise, because even without power, even if I have a snowball's chance in Hades of harming God Himself, I will make you suffer for putting one feather out of place.
I hope we are clear.
[And the way Crowley says it, the way his accent rolls over the 'r', the demon means every single word.]
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did you really create all the dinosaurs?[ Look, a kid's gotta know. ]
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Most of them.
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were they on noah's ark?text/private;
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that's not what my sunday school told me.[ So Jesse guess his daydream of Jesus riding a Brontosaurus will never happen. ]
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is there anything in the bible that's real?text/private;
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not here
"Maybe I can be saved," he'd said, once. He didn't believe that anymore. That God was with them all along and couldn't save the people who deserved it most (not Sam, you understand-- he'd long since stopped believing that he deserved saving)... it brought him to the corner of his bed, where he's sitting now, his face in his hands.
Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. So much for anyone's salvation. ]
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[A pause for a second]
Cool beans.
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private/voice; the 8th
It means a lot of things. Mostly the thing Crowley said.
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[A day and a half has not given Blaine enough time to know how to process this.]
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How can you be God? I mean, I know you. In person. People aren't supposed to have lived with God as their roommate.
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-Okay, you know what, never mind. [That was an unbelievably stupid reply and he feels stupid for saying it.] It's like this.
I went undercover- I mean, thousands of years ago. I'm me and I'm- that. I really was born, I have real parents, I went through puberty. But I'm- this, too.
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