sauntereddownward | (no subject)

(no subject)

Crowley had been busy. He'd had a rather dastardly idea and with a bit of proper nudging of 'influencers' (whatever those were) and a quick trip to Reddit, he had a new viral sensation. It was sort of like the ice bucket challenge, except it didn't benefit any charities and instead involved putting hot sauce up the nose. It worried parents, caused a bit of harmless mayhem, and most of all...it tarnished the souls of all those who laughed at idiots' misfortunes.

Sure, it wasn't tempting a priest, but it was a laugh.

He sat in the autumn sun outside an interesting little tea shop. He had a steaming cup of a lapsang suchong blend that made the air smell like a campfire. A subtle scent under the cigarette smoke. Crowley was watching his mobile and chuckling along as another bloody idiot put hot sauce on a cotton tip and stuffed it up his nose and began to wail.

"People will do anything to be famous," he said to himself.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Oh, please," Crowley scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You're not going to win a BAFTA performing for me."

The part faded away, and Fin laughed. "You don't like it? Some people like when I play a part. They want a fantasy."

"Fantasy is overrated," the demon said. "I don't even need to work anymore with all the lies and facades...oh! And filters! Instagram, Snapchat! The filters are going to be the end of me, I swear."

"Your angel might be into it," Fin shrugged. "You know, playing a part might coax them out of their shell."

Crowley scratched his jaw and considered it for a moment.

"No," he said. "I haven't lied to him yet. Better not start now."

"Right," Fin replied, before falling silent.

"You say people like it when you pretend?" the demon asked then. His brow dropped in consideration. "Pretend what, exactly?"

"All sorts," Fin shrugged. "Scared, repentent- Unrepentent. That I'm a virgin, or a complete whore. Whatever tickles their fantasy."

"Do you...do you enjoy doing that?" he asked, tilting his head curiously.

"Sure, sometimes. It can be freeing being someone or something else for a while," Fin said honestly.

"How very interesting," Crowley mused. "And it comes easy to you? Just putting things on and taking them off? You don't lose yourself?"

"I don't think so," Fin shrugged. "It's like wearing a costume."

"Who are you really?" the demon asked. "Deep down. In your core? The piece of you you don't like to look at...who are you?"

He had no reason to answer honestly, no real incentive. However, he also had no real reason to lie. The fae was silent for a beat, then wet his lips with a flick of his tongue before speaking.

"Selfish, scared and weak," he said honestly. "That's all I am."

"You have more in common with humans than you think, little fae," he replied.

"Not the humans I know," Fin assured him, reaching for his cigarettes.

"Tell me about the humans you know, then," Crowley pushed.

"They're kind, and their patient, full of love and selflessness," Fin said softly. "Not like me."

"All of them? Every single one? I don't believe it," Crowley said. "I've known too many humans. That's simply not possible."

"It's not something I'd fib about," Fin shrugged.

"Bah," the demon huffed. "I'm going to need to meet these saintly people you know. Take them down a peg."

"I wont be introducing you," Fin snorted, shaking his head.

"How very rude."

Crowley smirked a little and shook his head.

"A demon can try, though, can't he?"

"I suppose," Fin shrugged, chuckling softly.

"I'm very good at what I do, but for the past few decades I've relied on quantity over quality. Who has time to corrupt a priest over twenty years when you can smear a patina of awfulness across an entire country with minor inconveniences. They add up, you know. Little bits of wrath building up, poisoning everyone. I take Pride in my work."