[Crowley isn't really the type for menial labor; there's a reason he avoided Hell as much as possible, since it really does involve a lot of boring, menial work. But he didn't have much choice in the matter, since a yeti sort of just sat him down in front of a stack of presents that need to be wrapped and he'd feel like a dick if he just wandered off.
Surprisingly, or maybe unsurprisingly, he's actually very good at neatly wrapping presents. It probably helps that he's using a miracle to tape each edge down, rather than bothering to do it by hand.
If anyone wanders by or sits down to help, he'll give them a flat look.]
If you laugh, you'll end up wrapped and in Santa's bloody sack along with all of these damned things.
[Normal threats to make.]
when, what to my wondering eyes did appear
[In the spirit of the season, or more accurately, in the spirit of committing to the bit, Crowley has swapped the color palette of his suit, from black with red accents, to red with black accents, so that he looks a tiny bit Santa-esque as he sneaks into various houses to drop off presents.
It's sort of fun, a little bit of mischief in breaking and entering, a little bit of a challenge in trying to stay undetected, and he just has to pretend that he isn't doing something Nice and Kind and Good. It's a very Jack Skellington vibe and despite having actually met the Pumpkin King himself, Crowley does not recognize the irony.
Maybe the delivery goes smoothly, maybe they get caught by some kids, maybe there's an argument over who has to eat the cookies, or maybe you're a new myth who's going to get the world's worst introduction spiel to the situation at hand.]
let your heart be light
[If there's anything worse than being caught wrapping presents and delivering presents, it's doing straight up charity work. It's not like he hasn't done this sort of thing before, he's done assignments for Aziraphale after all, and those frequently involved blessings and charity and spreading kindness in the world. But there was a level of distance, when he was just doing an angel's job.
But there's a fucking little match girl, and Crowley remembers that story, and he remembers Wee Morag who died too bloody young just because she was born into the wrong family, the wrong area, the wrong life. He groans, and taps the person beside him to catch their attention.]
Bring the sleigh down. If we don't help she'll freeze to death in the next hour.
[Even as he talks, it doesn't take much effort to shift appearances, pulling on the familiar Nanny Ashtoreth look, in the hope that an older woman will be more comforting than a strange man. It doesn't occur to him that his might be a little startling to the other myth, he's already thinking about the best way to approach this situation to make sure the girl survives this night and hopefully plenty more.
It doesn't matter that she's from a story. All stories have some truth in them, and he knows from experience just how much truth this one holds.]
there goes mr. asshole, there goes mr. bitch - closed to Jaskier
[This particular task is perfectly suited to Crowley. He's had plenty of practice manipulating people, especially the rich and powerful, and the only difference now is that he's going to convince them to do something good rather than something selfish and shitty.
The thing is, though, after the sharp reminder of how fucking cruel humans can be, hoarding wealth while others starve or freeze to death in the streets, he doesn't feel like being especially subtle in his manipulation.
It helps that he's got Jaskier for company this time; the man knows how to perform, and Crowley isn't too worried about scaring the shit out of him while he does what he wants to do. It's clear on the sleigh ride over that he's deep in thought, pouring over the document they were given and stewing on this whole shitty situation. It isn't until they touch down on the rooftop that he turns his attention to Jaskier.]
You've seen plenty of monsters when out with your Witcher, right?
[He needs to figure out what Jaskier's tolerance is, because it'll change how horrifying he chooses to look.]
merry christmas to all
[Demons don't really get tired just from basic activity, but Crowley isn't as tapped into Hell's power as he used to be, and he's been burning miracles left and right throughout the night, for his own convenience and to help with the whole… Christmas situation, so he's knackered, to put it bluntly.
When they return to the Pole, he drops onto one of the benches, shoving unused wrapping paper aside, and summons himself a glass of whiskey.
This is the chill and cozy prompt. He's just vibing, he'll talk to anyone who approaches if he hasn't already fallen asleep. It's kind of hard to tell with the sunglasses.]
crowley | good omens| all prompts ota unless marked otherwise
[Crowley isn't really the type for menial labor; there's a reason he avoided Hell as much as possible, since it really does involve a lot of boring, menial work. But he didn't have much choice in the matter, since a yeti sort of just sat him down in front of a stack of presents that need to be wrapped and he'd feel like a dick if he just wandered off.
Surprisingly, or maybe unsurprisingly, he's actually very good at neatly wrapping presents. It probably helps that he's using a miracle to tape each edge down, rather than bothering to do it by hand.
If anyone wanders by or sits down to help, he'll give them a flat look.]
If you laugh, you'll end up wrapped and in Santa's bloody sack along with all of these damned things.
[Normal threats to make.]
when, what to my wondering eyes did appear
[In the spirit of the season, or more accurately, in the spirit of committing to the bit, Crowley has swapped the color palette of his suit, from black with red accents, to red with black accents, so that he looks a tiny bit Santa-esque as he sneaks into various houses to drop off presents.
It's sort of fun, a little bit of mischief in breaking and entering, a little bit of a challenge in trying to stay undetected, and he just has to pretend that he isn't doing something Nice and Kind and Good. It's a very Jack Skellington vibe and despite having actually met the Pumpkin King himself, Crowley does not recognize the irony.
Maybe the delivery goes smoothly, maybe they get caught by some kids, maybe there's an argument over who has to eat the cookies, or maybe you're a new myth who's going to get the world's worst introduction spiel to the situation at hand.]
let your heart be light
[If there's anything worse than being caught wrapping presents and delivering presents, it's doing straight up charity work. It's not like he hasn't done this sort of thing before, he's done assignments for Aziraphale after all, and those frequently involved blessings and charity and spreading kindness in the world. But there was a level of distance, when he was just doing an angel's job.
But there's a fucking little match girl, and Crowley remembers that story, and he remembers Wee Morag who died too bloody young just because she was born into the wrong family, the wrong area, the wrong life. He groans, and taps the person beside him to catch their attention.]
Bring the sleigh down. If we don't help she'll freeze to death in the next hour.
[Even as he talks, it doesn't take much effort to shift appearances, pulling on the familiar Nanny Ashtoreth look, in the hope that an older woman will be more comforting than a strange man. It doesn't occur to him that his might be a little startling to the other myth, he's already thinking about the best way to approach this situation to make sure the girl survives this night and hopefully plenty more.
It doesn't matter that she's from a story. All stories have some truth in them, and he knows from experience just how much truth this one holds.]
there goes mr. asshole, there goes mr. bitch - closed to Jaskier
[This particular task is perfectly suited to Crowley. He's had plenty of practice manipulating people, especially the rich and powerful, and the only difference now is that he's going to convince them to do something good rather than something selfish and shitty.
The thing is, though, after the sharp reminder of how fucking cruel humans can be, hoarding wealth while others starve or freeze to death in the streets, he doesn't feel like being especially subtle in his manipulation.
It helps that he's got Jaskier for company this time; the man knows how to perform, and Crowley isn't too worried about scaring the shit out of him while he does what he wants to do. It's clear on the sleigh ride over that he's deep in thought, pouring over the document they were given and stewing on this whole shitty situation. It isn't until they touch down on the rooftop that he turns his attention to Jaskier.]
You've seen plenty of monsters when out with your Witcher, right?
[He needs to figure out what Jaskier's tolerance is, because it'll change how horrifying he chooses to look.]
merry christmas to all
[Demons don't really get tired just from basic activity, but Crowley isn't as tapped into Hell's power as he used to be, and he's been burning miracles left and right throughout the night, for his own convenience and to help with the whole… Christmas situation, so he's knackered, to put it bluntly.
When they return to the Pole, he drops onto one of the benches, shoving unused wrapping paper aside, and summons himself a glass of whiskey.
This is the chill and cozy prompt. He's just vibing, he'll talk to anyone who approaches if he hasn't already fallen asleep. It's kind of hard to tell with the sunglasses.]