#crowley is a good demon

[rcreveal]

The Trouble with a Keen Manager-Ch 11

Crowley needs some help from a "Bespoke Tailoring" type of seamstress since he lost most of his powers to a keen manager with an accountability kick. In this chapter Crowley and Madame take a trip to the bank for a little grifting to give Crowley a new start.

Walking down the alley behind “Whicker Street Intimate Massage and Correction” Crowley carried his hand crank and hope that the Bentley would cooperate.  Opening the car door for Madame and handing her into the recently cleaned passenger’s seat, he slipped into the driver’s side.  With a prayer to… well a prayer, anyways, he put the key in the ignition, made sure the parking brake was on, put the car in neutral and let out the choke.

“I’ll just step up front to give her a crank start,” he told Madame who was looking around the immaculate interior appreciatively.

With the bonnet up both to start the car and to obscure Madame’s view, he explained to the Bentley, “Look, I need it to seem like I’m driving, but you’ll be driving, ok?” he fitted the hand crank and gave it only a physical crank, not all the crank he was capable of.  The Bentley turned over, and he took that for assent. “Just follow Madame’s directions, please?” he murmured to the car.

Slipping back into the driver’s seat, Crowley took a deep breath and lightly placed his hands at 10 and 2 on the wheel.

The Bentley kept running.

“Where to, Madame?” Crowley said with a grin.

Navigating through London by Madame’s directions and the whims of his own car meant that Crowley was reliant on the car’s good will towards his benefactor.  Fortunately, they seemed to have taken to each other immediately.  

“Oh! Travel sweets!” Madame exclaimed, as Crowley swiveled his eyes to the silver dish that had miraculously appeared.  Just another reason to believe the Bentley carried her own type of glamor as she smoothly slipped into a legal parking place right in front of a venerable banking institution just as another car pulled out.

Crowley strolled stiffly around the car, which was positively basking in the admiring glances of passersby, to help Madame out of the passenger’s seat.  Tucking her hand in the crook of his elbow, Crowley affected a pleasant and carefree countenance, as Madame pointed out the highlights of the bank’s architecture and told him why this was the best bank in London for him to open an account.

Stepping into the marble entry hall, their heels clicked and echoed in the grand room, designed, Crowley knew, to awe and impress.  Madame sailed in like she owned the place and walked right up to a sharply turned out young man at a teller’s counter.

“Ah, Jeffrey, I have a deposit for the foundation today,” she opened her valaise and passed over several thick envelopes.  Crowley admired the architecture, hands in pockets, freshly minted documents in the new wallet resting in his inner breast pocket, looking pleasantly bored of his “aunt’s” business.

“I brought my dear friend’s nephew, Anthony, here today to open a bank account!  I told him this is the only place to bank in London, I don’t care where he’s got his other accounts.  And I insist  he get a safety deposit box.  I just don’t trust those roommates of his!” she stage whispered.  Crowley rolled his eyes and acted amused, but acquiescent. 

“Whatever she says, of course,” he drawled.

Jeffrey said, “Certainly, I’d be happy to assist you today.  You brought your documents?” 

Madame pulled another sheaf of paperwork from her valaise and handed it to Jeffrey.

“I didn’t want to spend too much time on this errand, today, so I took the liberty of helping Anthony fill out the paperwork at home.”

Jeffrey took the paperwork and flipped through it, only asking to see the pertinent identifying documents referenced in the account applications.  

In less time than it usually took Crowley to inveigle a good scam with miracles, he was handed a cheque book, bankcard, and a safety deposit box key, after a quick trip to the vault to lock up his important documents, minus the drivers’ license, accompanied all the way by his “aunt’s” remonstrances and advice.

They swept out again, Crowley handed Madame back into the Bentley and started the car up with a murmured, “You look really lovely today, wonderful job!” to the Bentley’s open engine, which purred for the rest of the afternoon. 

Several blocks after they’d pulled away from the bank, Crowley asked Madame the burning question, “So is Jeffrey in on the grift or not?”

“There’s no grift, you do indeed have a bank account,” Madame said serenely, 

“Fine, document fraud.  Fake documents, real account.  But does he know the IDs are forgeries?” Crowley persisted.

“Let’s just say that Jeffrey is paying forward a similar service I did for him,” Madame replied, then directed them on a few other errands best done by a high class woman and her nephew before finally turning them towards Whickber street.  “I have to get changed before the after-work crowd comes in,” Madame said as the Bentley neatly parked itself beside Madame’s business.  

Laying a hand lightly on Crowley's forearm, Madame turned to him, “Anthony, I expect you to stay with us until you have secure lodgings again,” her tone was no nonsense and he speculated that none of her personas brooked disagreement with her decrees.  Not bothering to hide his appreciation, Crowley let his mouth drop open in surprise.  Madame expected him to be savvy enough to recognize his continued luck at being in her good graces, (plus, he rather thought she'd decided to make a project of him, he got that from time to time) he said, smooth as the sharp youth she expected, “I would welcome the opportunity to reside at your fine establishment.  Of course, I would help out around the place.  I am pretty handy,” he tried to radiate keen.  Really, he couldn't have found better lodgings.  Living in a brothel would go down a treat in his reports, especially if he was ‘helping’ it along.

Looking satisfied with his response, Madame patted his cheek, “Excellent!” and he thought she approved his act as well as his acquiesce.

Ever the attentive ‘nephew’, Crowley repeated the civility of handing Madame out of the low slung Bentley.  Anything less would have been unutterably rude to both his benefactors, the lady and the car, and he certainly wasn't going to get in the way of such a perfect moment.  With Madame’s hand nestled back in the crook of his arm, he walked her to the back door and waited while she unlocked it.

Standing in the open doorway, Madame turned back,

“What will you do with your evening, Anthony?” He raised his eyebrows in polite inquiry, sure that she had a suggestion.  

“If you would continue to take my advice, I would recommend a quiet one,” 

“Oh, I’ll pop over the road to the bookshop.  See if I can’t pick up some reading material for an evening in,” he said casually, coming towards her proffered cheek.

“Delightful!  Give my regards to Mr Fell,” Madame said, slipping a key into his pocket as he kissed her cheek.  

And a pickpocket! Would this woman’s skills never cease?

Hand tapping on the key, he nodded to her, hauled out a casual smile, and strolled out of the alley directly to A.Z.Fell and Co.

[sweetlemondream]

the angel and demon on the shoulder symbolism oh im sick

[diavalkitty]

Oo-oh

I am the sand in bottom half of the hourglass...

[onioneyez]

He's very easily peer pressured

(Edit: I meant by the goats)

Prints!

[hansoeii]

crowley!

[yourangle-yuordevil]

Local goth cryptid goes through a tough breakup 😔

[mizgnomer]

Hippity-Hoppity Crowley

[linnytheseagull]

WAIT I I DON'T THINK I EVER POSTED THIS HERE

Here's a very fashionable Crowley for yall!!

[armageddidnt]

Best of Neil's stage directions/commentary in the good omens s1 script book

I went back and read this to help me cope after s2, as one does

[dimity-lawn]

[gleafer]

ZOOMIES

[dragonmouth]

Arise from the ashes

[diavalkitty]

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Pt I good omens but i've never watched it

i've never seen good omens but it's all over my tumblr dash so this is what I've gathered can someone please confirm if i've got it right

there's a demon named crowley

there's a biblically inaccurate angel named aziraphale but like it's very sexy when the demon calls him 'angel'

the demon and angel have been married for 6000 years and they still keep looking at each other all sappily

Neil Gaiman is somehow involved, I think he's the writer but also he's on tumblr (uh, @neil-gaiman) and people keep questioning if he's real

is neil gaiman like a fandom inside joke why is everyone asking if he's real

there actors are called michael and david and amazon prime thought they were the same

there is a bookstore and crowley is sad

they kiss and it is very nice and desperate and crowley says we could have been us. i have no context for this. someone is going to heaven i think.

there is a god, i'm not sure if they're good or evil though

the demon wears sunglasses

it's a comedy but for some reason everyone's crying after whatever the last season was, are you guys okay

things are on fire

they are very gay

there was a book and at one point they switch bodies

more fire and crowley screaming

they are called ineffable husbands i dont know what that means

they fight crime or they do crime or they fight crime by doing crime i really cannot remember which

gay

[vavoom-sorted-art]

Happy Pride!

I promised a big pride artwork earlier this month, here it is! (Ideas lovingly submitted by my dear Patreons!)

[astrhae]

crowley used the metal tool in season 1 to start time, and we learn that he's used it first to start space. to create the stars -- he still remembers how. he still remembers all of heaven's passwords: in the book crowley is described as an optimist because he has the "utter surety... that the universe would look after him". not god, but the universe. and of course he does: he helped create it and he's looking after it, too.

think about it: aziraphale had a sword, but crowley is about to face satan who wants to destroy the world, and crowley's only weapon is a tool of creation