#it was all worth it!! crowley tempting eve and teaching humans that they could be evil was worth it!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

omniishambles · 3 years

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AZIRAPHALE

MEDIA: Good Omens. FACECLAIM: Michael Sheen. AGE: 6000 +. GENDER: Male. OCCUPATION: Book collector. SPECIES: Angel. SEXUALITY: Asexual. NATIONALITY: British. EYE COLOUR: Blue. HAIR: Short, white blonde. HEIGHT: 5”10. SCARS: None. LANGUAGES: English, a smattering of others like French and German. ZODIAC: Libra, October 21st.

NOTABLE RELATIONSHIPS

Anthony J Crowley, best friend and beloved, as written by @collidingxworlds.

IMPORTANT NOTE

I’m open to writing platonic relationships with other versions of Crowley, but will be romantically exclusive with Crowley as written by Scotty.

BIOGRAPHY

Aziraphale is an angel, sent from Heaven to observe humans on Earth and to encourage them towards the path of heaven with a light touch. His job is to try and counteract and undermine the work of the opposing side, specifically the work of the demon Crowley, with the odd miracle here and there. However, being on Earth for such a long time (going on 6000 years) has shaped and changed his opinion of humans, and he has grown fond of many of the things they’ve invented throughout the centuries, particularly their food.

He poses as a rare bookseller based in London, though he does absolutely everything he possibly can to discourage any books from actually being sold. He can be fussy and particular, especially about clothes and manners. Aziraphale does struggle to get his mind caught up with modern times, however, and tends to dress and speak in a fashion long outdated but which he has grown quite comfortable with.

His biggest Earthly vice, though most angels don’t ‘taint’ themselves with such things, is food.

For an extraordinarily long time, ever since they were in the Garden of Eden, Aziraphale has interacted with the demon Crowley, once an angel himself but fallen with Lucifer and his followers. At first their interactions were merely civil talk, a means to an end, but gradually as they kept running into each other while they tried to do their work they became something like friends. They realised that their respective supervisors didn’t actually care about the specifics of their work, as long as the work was getting done (Aziraphale spreading good, Crowley spreading evil) and even began to do each other the odd favour here and there, a miracle and a tempting performed in the same place to save a little time and keep up appearances.

Gradually Aziraphale began to care for Crowley and was glad for his company, even if he was a demon. This friendship grew much stronger than Aziraphale had anticipated, and he found that he couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. There have been multiple occasions where Crowley has stepped in to help the angel out of a spot of bother that could have seen him discorporated and sent back to heaven.

More about the plot of Good Omens and stopping Armageddon here!

Aziraphale has his flaws, but at his core he’s a being of great love and light, and tries to see the goodness in everyone. In the first days he willingly gave up his flaming sword to Adam and Eve when they were cast out of the garden, worrying for their safety in the world outside. But he’s just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing.

VERSES

Main

Set during the events of Good Omens, all the way from the beginning in the Garden of Eden.

Post Armageddon

Set after the events of Good Omens.

Harry Potter AU

Professor Azra Fell has taken over the teaching of Charms at Hogwarts after the retirement of Professor Flitwick. Set after the 2nd Wizarding War and Voldemort’s death.

#info #muse : aziraphale

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alas-pancakes · 5 years

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human // good omens

Crowley didn’t particularly want to be a father. He had no experience being a father. He was far from the fatherly type, if anyone was to be completely honest with him. Yet he drew kids to him the way a magnet attracted- what’s it called? Right, iron fillings. He attracted kids like a muddy puddle on a hot day. Yes, he did.

The first time he found a kid, he was lost, completely clueless. A little boy clung to him, wailing loudly in Ancient Greek. He turned a slow circle around the market place, perhaps looking for someone he could dump the kid on. “They took my daddy!” The boy cried out, clinging on to Crowley much tighter than he liked. He knew, somehow, that that boy had nowhere to go. He was lost, homeless and alone. Crowley rested a gentle hand on the little boy’s shoulder, sifting through the boy’s memories. Flashes of color in the dark, a naive childhood where his father was on top of the world and his mother a supposed goddess of sorts. He had been running through the market place, his father trailing at his heels. Amongst the shouts, the was sound of a scuffle behind him. When he turned, his father, oh his beloved father, was being dragged away by soldiers. It hadn’t taken much for his innocence to break, for his eyes to take in the true cruelty of people being fundamentally people. Crowley sighed, removing his hand to tilt the little boy’s head up. Scared, angry, broken glass eyes met shaded ones. Without a doubt, Crowley saw a little boy who had fallen from his childish heaven into the brutal world, shaking with anger at it all.

Crowley, himself, had no idea how to raise a human child. He didn’t want to raise a human child, lest the child turn out evil and demonic. Yet, he couldn’t quite let the little boy go and of into the world alone. Crowley, himself, had been scared and angry and full of broken glass when he had fallen. He would hate for this boy to turn out the same way. He glanced around him before deciding a small miracle wouldn’t hurt. He couldn’t raise a child alone but perhaps Aziraphale could help. You know, balance out the good and the bad so the child could grow up all normal? A pop of light and the boy, with his face pressed against Crowley’s flowing clothes, had experienced his first miracle. There would be many more to come.

It had taken much persuading and reasoning and a promise of years worth of lunches and a look into the boy’s eyes before Aziraphale finally caved. He had starkly refused at first, unable to imagine either him or Crowley raising a child. “No. Just no. What’s there to say? You know how this will end, Crawly.”

“Crowley.” He had corrected, rolling his eyes behind the shades. “Please, angel, I’m actually begging you.”

“Can’t we drop him at some temple or something? I’m sure they’ll take care of such a little popper as him.”

“Angel, he has nowhere to go. Absolutely nowhere.” Crowley’s tone dropped, soft and pleading and desperate. He had only used this tone once before, just before he fell. “Michael, please, I have nowhere to go.” He had cried out as angels looked on, no longer seeing him as one of their own. Aziraphale softened, swallowing hard before nodding. Crowley hurriedly detached himself from the little boy, throwing himself into the angel’s arms. “I owe you.” The boy looked on, his eyes red but otherwise dry.

Apollon grew to be a normal boy. His fathers living in two separate houses but moving into one to care for him. One taught him of kindness, books, and philosophy. The other spoke of being yourself and not letting the world judge you, teaching him games and pranks and how to survive on the streets. Apollon loved his fathers more than anything, yet nothing made him forget the one that had been stolen from him, screaming and kicking.

The first night raising Apollon was hard. It had taken the angel and the demon forever to come to an agreement and even then, they were not parents, much less experienced ones. After the boy finally fell asleep, he still cried out in his dreams for his father, waking up in cold sweats when he could no longer take it. In hopes of some peace and quiet, Aziraphale relented to Crowley’s request and miracled away the boy’s nightmares, delivering dreams of security. “I can’t possibly do it, ‘m a demon! I mess up everything I touch, angel!” Crowley protested when Aziraphale asked that he do it.

After Apollon fell into a gentle sleep and Aziraphale settle into a chair to read his scrolls and books, Crowley snuck out to outside the house. It was early morning and not a person in sight, too dark for any eyes that weren’t adapted to the dark to see. Sitting on a ledge, Crowley spread out his magnificent dark wings. They would have been magnificent anyway. Having been uncomfortably hidden the whole day, clumps of feathers stuck out oddly and one of his wings itched. He sat there, silent, preening his wings as the city was laid out before him to see. At times like this, Crowley could almost pretend he was back in heaven again. He tugged gently at the itching feather and nearly screamed when it drifted to the ground. Was this a punishment for fallen angels? Was he going to lose his wings? Steeling himself to look at the wing again, he inspected it carefully, running his fingers over the smooth feathers. Nestled like an egg in a well-constructed, snug nest was a small white feather, like a bright star glittering in the early morning sky. His thin fingers traced it, almost in awe, before folding his wings back and hiding it. No one need know about this feather, no one need know what it meant. Crowley smiled, a small satisfied smile before he hid his wings and walked back inside.

Apollon grew fast, by immortal standards and soon Crowley found himself kneeling by the old man’s side. It had taken many small miracles to keep him alive this long but this time, both he and the angel knew it was time to let go. “I suppose you want to know the truth, my boy,” Aziraphale said, as his old-man features melted away. “I suppose you wish to know why we aren’t dead yet.” Aziraphale touched a hand to the side of the man’s head, blue eyes meeting strong, aged, wise, brown ones. “You know everything you need to know.”

This was the second time that Crowley cried.

Time and time again, Crowley found himself saddled with children he could not raise alone. Time and time again, he found himself turning to Aziraphale with a baby in hand, a child at his waist, a teen beating his chest with tired fists. “Crowley, again?” Aziraphale groaned the first few times. After a while, it became like a habit to them both.

Crowley and Aziraphale were far from the best fathers. The child they raised often ended up with the usual quirks you’d expect from one raised by an immortal angel and an immortal demon. Yet, they strived to be the best parents they could be, giving the children a better childhood than the one they hoped for. In their lost and tired eyes and broken souls, Crowley saw a little of himself reflected in there. In their painfully thin, bruised and battered and scarred and scared bodies, Aziraphale saw shadows of the one he couldn’t save.

Slowly, feather by feather, white crept into Crowley’s life. His black feathers still far outnumbered his white ones but they were there and Crowley slept easily in that knowledge. He didn’t care so much about unfalling anymore but he could count the feathers in the secret of night and remember how many of his lost children he had saved from a fate like his. He could count the number of children he had given hope and the chance at a proper life. Crowley would smile and shed tears that burned when they touched him and he would remember.

11 years before the world was supposed to end, he turned up at the A. Z. Fell bookstore with a basket in hand, knocking at the door. He had never knocked before. Usually, he just teleported in. “Angel,” He called out until Aziraphale opened the door. He slid into the closed bookstore without invitation and set the basket down on the table. “Angel, I need help.”

“Crowley, my dear, what the heavens have you done this time?” Aziraphale replied, vaguely concerned. “The Almighty Herself knows you never knock.”

Crowley sighed. “It’s the Antichrist.”

Aziraphale quirked his eyebrows in suspicion. “Are you sure it’s the Antichrist himself?”

“Yes.”

“And you want to keep him?”

“Angel, he didn’t ask to be the Antichrist! He’s a child that needs a home and if we raise him right, we could stop Armaggedon!” Crowley cried out. He was exhausted and in no mood to argue with the angel.

Now, the prospect of preventing Armageddon was a tempting one to the angel. He had always been one for peace and he had become rather fondly attached to Crowley after all these years. It would be a pity to wage war against his friend, business partner, whatever they were.

“Very well, we’re raising the Antichrist. We can’t possibly keep calling him that, can we?” Aziraphale began stiffly, trying not to betray how pleased he was to raise another child with Crowley.

“What do you think he shoulda be named?”

“How about Damien? I hear it’s quite popular these days.”

“We want him to have a normal name, my dear angel,” Crowley grumbled.

“Well, there’s always Adam,” Aziraphale replied tentatively.

“Adam. Like Adam and Eve sort of Adam?” Crowley asked skeptically.

“No, not that sort.” What Aziraphale really meant was, “Of course, my darling, what else did you think?”

Adam was going to grow up to be the face of humanity, just you wait. He wasn’t going to fundamentally bad or fundamentally good, like the rest of Crowley and Aziraphale’s children. He was going to turn out to be fundamentally human.

(1709 words)

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