it’s both a blessing and a curse to be re-viewing all this old stuff because I think damn, that kind of looks awful, but hey - wow - I do be improving

The Key

it's 1981 and Crowley has decided to purchase a flat, but the snobby agent won't approve their application without a character reference. Who else can they call on but Aziraphale? (Inspired by a writing prompt on @fenrir-kin 's twitch stream. 3666 words, full fic on AO3)

1981...

Mr Rust looked up from the almost unreadable scribble on the forms and narrowed his eyes as he looked over the person slouched in the right-hand chair that had been arranged just so in front of his desk. The interloper was wearing dark clothes of a popular mode that Mr Rust found abhorrent; a frilly shirt offset by a jacket with padded shoulders and wide-leg trousers that were nothing like the suits a proper man would wear. And the clothes weren’t even the worst part. And more offensive still were the large sunglasses impudently perched on the interloper’s nose and the pointed glance they gave the flashy digital watch on their wrist when the silence dragged on too long.

Mr Rust cleared their throat. “Mr Anthony J Crowley?”

“Yep, that’s me,” Crowley grinned, tossing their long curly hair over their shoulder.

Mr Rust sniffed disapprovingly and glared down at the document again. “We have been having some difficulty with your paperwork. I’m not sure that Sanctuary Realty Group can help you.”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed at that. A well applied miracle or two usually solved all those pesky little problems that came with being an unemployed immortal long before this stage of the game. “And why isss that?” Crowley asked with cool politeness.

Mr Rust sniffed again. “Well, for one, it says here that you’re not currently employed-”

“And it says there that I have a private trust which will pay for upkeep and whatnot,” Crowley pointed out, glaring from behind their sunglasses. “Can’t work, got a problem with my eyes. Bright light gives me migraines, trouble reading and the like.” Crowley leaned forward, lips curled up in a challenging smirk. “But it’s not really my lack of employment that’s the issue, is it?”

“I’m sure that I don’t know what you mean,” Mr Rust protested, his disdain clear in his expression. “We simply have certain... expectations of our clients-”

“I should imagine the number of zeros on that report are more than enough for that,” Crowley said smugly.

“Well, no.” Mr Rust smiled with grim satisfaction. “We need to know more than what you’ve disclosed about your finances, Mr Crowley. We need to know what kind of man you are.”

Crowley blinked, taken aback by the hostility in the man’s tone. “You wot?”

“You will need references Mr Crowley. Someone of good standing to vouch for your moral stature.” Mr Rust’s smile grew when Crowley frowned. “You left that spot blank you see. If you can’t find anyone, we will regretfully have to decline-”

Crowley wanted to just magic the man into compliance, but that only worked in the short term. It was playing with fire to depend on mind magics to get cooperation for longer than a few hours at most. Never had this sort of problem in the old days, Crowley thought bitterly. Then again, this wasn’t just a matter of renting, they were trying to buy a flat, and they’d never bothered with that before, well, aside from the shop for Aziraphale, but that didn’t really count, being so long ago. But the thought gave them an idea.

“Did I? Just a bit of oversight on my part. My eyes, you know.” Crowley reached into their fashionably oversized and shoulder-padded jacket and miracled up a card. It was a gamble, relying on the angel for this, but there wasn’t any other option. This flat felt right, and Crowley knew when to trust their instincts. “This should do. Call them, him,” Crowley hastily corrected, setting the card on the desk. “Mr Fell can vouch for me. Good upstanding citizen, business owner. Known me forever.”

Mr Rust barely glanced at the card and set it on his blotter. “Well, I’m sure you have important things to see to, Mr Crowley. I’ll see to this-”

“Now,” Crowley said, unwilling to be put off yet again. ��No need to drag this out on my account Mr Rust. I mean, this is the only issue keeping you from approving my purchase application, isn’t it?” Crowley’s smile was all teeth. “I’m willing to wait however long it takes to get this done today. And this chair is so comfortable,” Crowley said, dragging the chair closer to the desk with a terrible screech.

Mr Rust scowled and quickly pulled his desk phone closer and slowly dialled the number on the card, frowning at Crowley in a most disapproving manner for leaning their elbow on the desk.

Crowley ignored the glare, holding their breath when they heard Aziraphale’s perky greeting once the call went through. “A Z Fell and Co, A Z Fell, proprietor, speaking.”

Mr Rust’s spirits lifted. Who in their right mind would give a so-called ‘business’ in Soho run by a man with a clearly fake name as a reference? “Ah, hello Mr Fell, I am calling about an acquaintance of yours, a Mr Anthony J Crowley?”

“Oh, Crowley... Yes, I know the fiend.”

Crowley closed their eyes at hearing that, and sat back into their chair, pressing their fingers to their eyes in dismay. Too late, Crowley recalled that Aziraphale had been a little annoyed with them the last time they’d parted. They’d prodded a little too hard during their most recent round of trying to convince the angel to make the bookshop into an actual shop with books that could be bought.But that had been weeks ago and Crowley had assumed, hoped, they’d be over that by now. Shit.But what option did they have? It’s not like they could have the man call Sergeant Shadwell or any of Crowley’s other, equally criminal, associates.

read the rest on AO3...

Untitled Stardew Omens Fic (7)

I’m sort of vaguely doing one of these a day (mini nano? apparently?) but I missed yesterday and was Inspired today so here we have two in one day...

(Index)

Spring 24

"What are you wearing?" Crowley demands, before he realises that the question is potentially both rude and over-familiar. Fortunately, Aziraphale just laughs.

"It's traditional," he says, tugging at the slightly-too-tight embroidered blue jacket. "For the dance, you know."

Crowley looks around and sees that, indeed, a number of other people are wearing a similar get-up. It suits precisely none of them. Sebastian's scowling at his own shoes and Shane looks like he's considering crawling under a bush. Crowley can't fault either of them. The girls are also sporting frilly white dresses, and the only one who can really pull it off is Haley. Everyone else looks like a disconsolate meringue, except Emily, who gives more of a vibe of hyperactive whipped cream.

"Dance?" Crowley queries.

"The flower dance. It's part of the festivities. You don't have to wear the costumes, but Emily does work so hard on them..."

"So anyone can join in?"

"Well, you need a partner. And to know the steps, but honestly, it's not difficult, at least if you've a little more natural rhythm than me. Most people seem to find it easy enough to pick up as they go along."

Crowley doesn't dance. Not this kind of dancing, anyway. He's all for grooving on the nightclub floor, but all this prancing about with flower crowns, no, definitely not his thing, not a part of his image. But Aziraphale looks so excited and anticipatory, a sparkle in his smile, and yes, the jacket is the wrong cut on him, but the colour does bring out the blue of his eyes, and Crowley opens his mouth, about half a second away from saying something very, very foolish.

Fortunately, Aziraphale glances out at the assembled townsfolk, and says, "I've promised to dance with Maru, she's always a bit nervous, so I told her we could partner up, since she's bound to look good in comparison to me and my two left feet."

Crowley's mouth snaps shut with a click that rattles his skull. He shoves his hands in his pockets and makes a non-committal noise.

"What about you?" Aziraphale asks. "I'm sure Robin or Gus would be happy to step in, they've always enjoyed—"

"I don't dance," Crowley says, and he doesn't mean it to come out like that, like Aziraphale's an idiot for even asking, like Crowley's looking down on the whole thing, it's just that some habits are hard to break, even when you don't need them anymore.

"Oh, of course." Aziraphale becomes very interested in adjusting his cuffs. "Well, that's all right. Try not to laugh too much as I make a fool of myself then. I'd better, ah— see you in a bit."

He hurries over to where the dancers are assembling. Crowley looks down at his own feet, considering which one would fit better in his mouth, since that's clearly where it belongs.

He watches the dance in a grumpy haze, initially exacerbated by how much fun Aziraphale appears to be having. If he's got two left feet, Crowley can't see it. He moves in time with everyone else and he seems to know all the steps and after a while his sheer beaming joy in it drags Crowley reluctantly out of his sulk.

He loses sight of Aziraphale after the dance, as everyone mills around, but just as he's thinking it might be time to slip off back home, something softly touches the top of his head, and he jumps and spins around.

Aziraphale is beaming at him, still a bit out of breath and flushed, yanking his hands back innocently. Crowley puts a hand up and feels - yes, a flower crown, set neatly on top of his head with no regard for the integrity of his hairstyle or his personal aesthetic.

"Didn't want you to feel left out," Aziraphale says brightly. "It rather suits you, you know."

It was almost 6 o’clock on Halloween night and Crowley had just pulled up in front of A. Z. Fell and Co. bookshop with a young Warlock Dowling in the passenger seat, as both of his parents were too busy to take him trick-or-treating, so Nanny and Brother Francis agreed to take him out for them, along with keeping him with them over the weekend. Stepping into the bookshop Warlock immediately ran upstairs so he could change into his Pharaoh costume and since it had been a few decades since either of them had dressed up for Samhain the angel and demon had decided that they would also join in on the festivities and dress up as well; Crowley wearing a bit more elaborate and flashy version of his nanny Ashtoreth outfit while Aziraphale had decided to also pull out one of his old outfits, one that he knew was the demon’s favorite. It was the aristocratic garb that had nearly gotten his head chopped off back during the reign of terror. “The others should be arriving any minute now” Aziraphale said, adjusting his frilly sleeve cuffs, looking at a nearby clock “are you two ready yet?” “Almost, angle” Crowley said, as he knelt in front of Warlock, putting the finishing touches on his eye makeup “there!” “How do I look, nanny?” Warlock asked, opening his eyes “Perfect” Crowley said when there was a knock on the door “I’ll get it” Aziraphale said, walking to the front door of his shop Opening the door Aziraphale was greeted by the Them, Anathema, and Newt standing on his front stoop. Adam was standing at the front of the group dressed up as a pirate, to his right was Pepper dressed as a witch, to the left was Wensleydale as a robot, and at the back was Brian as an alien as Dog sat obediently at the antichrists feet wearing a snake costume. Bringing up the rear of the group of children were Newt and Anathema, having been the ones to give the children a ride after they’d spent weeks convincing their parents to let them go trick-or-treating in London instead of Tadfield on the condition that either Anathema and Newt or Mr. Cowley and Mr. Fell accompanied them. “Goddamnit!” Anathema exclaimed, annoyed when she saw Crowley dressed in his costume “first you hit me with your car and now you look better than I ever have” “Well” Newt said, after he felt the children's eyes on him, waiting for him to say something “I mean she’s not wrong” “We’ll come pick them up tomorrow morning” Anathema said, side eyeing her boyfriend “We can go out and get a nice breakfast before you go back” Aziraphale suggested, allowing the children to run inside his shop “Sounds great” Anathema said, as she and Newt walked back to Dick Trupin “Nice costume, Warlock” Adam said as he and the rest of the them absorbed the dark haired child into their ranks “Thanks” Warlock said “I like your guy’s costumes too” “Come along children” Crowley said “gab your bags. We’re heading out” Stepping out of the shop Aziraphale left a bowl of candy on the front stoop and gave it a small miracle to keep it filled with candy until the night was over so if any children happened to come to his door they wouldn’t be leaving empty handed. “Wait” Brian said, stopping everyone as they were about to cross the street “we have to hold hands when we cross” “Why?” Pepper asked with a look of confusion on her face “Because my mum’ll be upset if she finds out we didn’t” Brian said, grabbing Wensleydales hand Before any of the other children had a moment to react Warlock grabbed a hold of both Crowley and Aziraphales hands as he stood between the two celestial beings, leaving Adam to take the angles free hand, Pepper his, and Brian hers; none of them letting go until they got safely to the other side of the street. The longer they were out the more the demon noticed that there were always a handful of people were staring at him, probably trying to figure out if he was or wasn’t wearing a costume since he wasn’t using his Nanny Ashtoreth voice, but no one ever approached them; so he decided to have a bit of fun with them playing up his nanny persona a bit with the kids while keeping an arm wrapped securely around his angel’s waist. Despite the many curious looks everything went smoothly with all of the kids wanting to hit as many houses as they could before they had to go back to the flat. It wasn’t until they got to Madam Tracy’s house did they hit a bit of a snag, and by snag I mean that once the older woman saw all of the children on her doorstep dressed in their costumes she was insistent that everyone step inside so she could get pictures of them (I mean how could you not picture her as a grandma type) only letting them leave once she had gotten more than enough pictures as Shadwell sat on the couch watching them, probably wondering what was going on. Of course she made up for the ten or so odd minutes of trick-or-treating time she’d used up by dividing an un-open bag of candy she had, dividing it equally amongst the children, while Crowley used the opportunity to swipe one of the candy apples she had sitting in a bowl on the coffee table. “Here, angle” Crowley said, holding up the apple once the children had run to the front door of the next house “Did you steal that?” Aziraphale asked, eyeing down the apple “She saw me take it” Crowley shrugged, both of them knowing that Madam Tracy would have done something if she had a problem with what the demon had done “come on, angle” “Oh, alright” Aziraphale said, taking the apple, happily taking a bit out of it “this is quite scrumptious. Tracy did a wonderful job” he rested his free hand in the crook of Crowley’s bent arm Once the children’s bags were almost full the angel began ushering them back towards his bookshop, where the Bentley was parked, so he could take them back to the demon’s flat. All of them piling inside, the bench seats miraculously stretching and growing to fit all five children. The first thing the Them and Warlock did when they stepped inside the flat was run into the kitchen, all of them taking a seat at the island, laying out their candy so they could all get a good look at the piles of candy searching for anything worth trading. At some point during the trading process Adam and Warlock had snuck away from the group and into the bathroom so they could do something stupid, turning off all of the lights, save for a single t-light candle, granted it was an electric one but it would work just as well. “You ready?” Adam asked, looking at Warlock “Yeah” Warlock said, nodding his head “Bloody Mary” Adam started “Bloody Mary” Warlock said, he and Adam leaning closer and closer to the mirror “Bloody Ma…” “You tryna bring spooks into my house?” Crowley yelled, bursting through the bathroom door, causing both boys to scream at the top of their lungs as they tripped over each other in their attempt to scramble out of the small-ish room. Adam having run back to his friends while Warlock ran over to Aziraphale, clinging to him as the angle gently rubbed his back, in an attempt to soothe him, while giving the demon a very annoyed look. “Oh, don’t give me that look, angle” Crowley said, sauntering over to Aziraphale “they were trying to invite in a demon” “It couldn’t have been much worse than the one that’s already here” Aziraphale said, walking back into the living room with his godson In an attempt to lighten the mood a bit Aziraphale miricaled up a small fire, his magic making sure that not only would it not spread, but also so that it wouldn’t burn anyone if they were to accidentally touch it, for the children to roast marshmallows over and tell spooky stories around. The fire didn’t last long as not even an hour later it was out and the children were rearranging the furniture so they could use it and some blankets to make an indoor tent so they could camp out in the living room and watch scary movies until they passed out. “Well that was a fun night” Crowley said, taking out his earrings “It was quite nice pulling out one of my old outfits” Aziraphale said, carefully taking off his jacket and setting it on its holder “and Warlock seems to have become good friends with Adam” “Do you need help, angle?” Crowley asked, slipping out of his heels as he walked over to Aziraphale “Thank you, dear” Aziraphale said, allowing Crowley to undo the buttons on his waist coat and undershirt “do you need assistance as well?” “Nope” Crowley said, snapping his fingers so he was left in nothing but his underwear Sighing at the serpents decision of not wanting to put on a pair of sleep pants the angle got to work removing the lower half of his outfit, allowing Crowley to once again assist him in the removal of his shoes and stockings, but unlike the demon Aziraphale slipped into a tartan nightgown once he was down to his skivvies. Miricalling up a face wipe, Aziraphale walked up to Crowley and used it to gently wipe the makeup off of the demons face before placing a quick kiss on the end of his nose. “Should we check in on them later?” Aziraphale asked as he slipped underneath the bed covers “Nah” Crowley said, getting in next to the angle “we can hear them if something happens as long as we keep the door open. Good night, dove” he leaned over to give Aziraphale a quick peck on the lips “Good night, dear boy” Aziraphale said, grabbing his night time book as Crowley closed his eyes and the faint noise from the T.V. filtered into the room