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ddd_news2010-08-03 08:27 pm
tripled_mods) wrote in ddd_news2010-08-03 08:27 pmAPPLICATIONS -- 2010; 001
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tripled_mods) wrote in ddd_news2010-08-03 08:27 pm
Aziraphale 1/tl;dr
Player LJ: [Bad username or site: ”unseenberry” @ livejournal.com]
Way to contact you:
Email: boxofgrenades@gmail.com
AIM: insovietme
Other: plurk: likeabox
Are you at least 15?: Yes!
Current Characters: none!
Character: Aziraphale
Fandom: Good Omens
Character Notes:
History: It was a lovely day in October when the whole Forbidden Fruit fiasco occurred. In the aftermath, three very important things happened. One: Aziraphale, a principality, lent his flaming sword to Adam and Eve because they might catch a cold without it. And lo, when the Lord asked him where his sword went, he said: I Must Have Laid It Down Here Somewhere. Forget Me Own Head Next. And the Lord did not ask. Two: said angel spent a few moments discussing Things with a demon named Crawly, who didn’t like his name very much at all. But, if nothing else, at least it was descriptive. Three: It started to rain.
Time passed. About 6,000 years worth of it, as a matter of fact. Aziraphale spent an awful lot of time on Earth, and started to like humans as a result of this. The books didn’t hurt. Crawly changed his name to Crowley, and he spent an awful lot of time on Earth, too. He started to pick up a few tricks from humans as a result of this. The alcohol didn’t hurt. Somewhere in between trying to smite each other, they came to the conclusion that they should probably stop doing that and start getting along instead. Mainly because it turned out they had more in common with each other than with their respective Superiors. And lo, the Arrangement was drafted, sometime around the 1000 AD mark. Really, it wasn’t even that important, but it was old enough to earn the capital letter. Sort of like the Magna Carta. All it meant was that Aziraphale would let Crowley do some tempting if it meant he got to do some proper thwarting, and if they occasionally switched jobs, well, it’d all get done anyhow. At the very least, it saved up enough time to go drinking.
Aziraphale 2/tl;dr
It might’ve worked, too, if the kid they were watching turned out to actually be the anti-christ. Unfortunately, a game of three card monty played with babies went awry, the anti-christ went AWOL, and the expected hell hound went to an entirely different house. To put it in layman’s terms, shit got real. Crowley and Aziraphale journeyed to Lower Tadfield in a desperate attempt to figure out what happened and where the actual apocalypse bringing kid went off to. Their search was waylaid by people playing silly buggers with paintballs, along with accidentally striking a pedestrian with a Bentley. Don’t worry, she lived, and besides, Aziraphale healed the injured bike.
The pedestrian’s name was Anathema Device. At the time she got hit by the Bentley, she was carrying the Nice And Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. After that incident, however, Aziraphale ended up borrowing it for some time, which is the polite way of saying he stole it. Aziraphale loved books, but he specialized in misprinted bibles and, more importantly, books of prophecy. And there was not a single book of prophecy better in the world than the Nice and Accurate Prophecies. People’d sell their soul for it, if they could.
With the search put on hold and the apocalypse impending, Aziraphale did what any sensible person would do: read the book. For hours and hours and hours. Occasionally, he’d take notes, too. Very important ones, pertaining to the location of the anti-christ. Once he found out this extremely vital information, he proceeded to round up the witchfinder army, which consisted of two people at present. Then he dithered for twelve hours, because he wanted to tell Crowley about all this, but he really ought to tell heaven first.
Aziraphale went with ought. The conversation did not go very well. It didn’t get any better when he tried to call Crowley and got the answering machine. It got even worse when the current head of the witchfinder army burst in and interrupted, leading directly to Aziraphale being discorporated. The good news was that at least he wasn’t around when his bookstore burned to the ground.
Instead, he hopped around the world, unfortunately forced to spend a little time in Australia and thwarting a televangelist along the way, found a body in a relatively decent condition in England, and made his way to Tadfield via scooter and Madam Tracy. He made it there just in time for the climax. It was a very good climax, especially the part where Adam, aka the anti-christ, averted the apocalypse after all. Aziraphale even got his flaming sword back. All in all, a good time was had by all, except for the devil, the angels (not named Aziraphale), and the demons (not named Crowley), who all had to go home without getting to do any proper destroying at all.
The bookshop returned to it’s previous non-ash state, albeit with a few picture books that Aziraphale couldn’t remember purchasing. And, like any sensible people who just survived the end of the world, Crowley and Aziraphale went out to lunch.
Aziraphale’s being taken from a spot in between, after he and Crowley decide to stop the apocalypse, but before they realize they have the wrong anti-christ.
i'm sorry i didn't copypaste the personality sorry 3/5
Aziraphale is the very model of a modern major angel, albeit one stuck some time in the last century. At least, if you weren’t paying very close attention. He’s polite. He’s efficient. He’s been not swearing so long that he can make “oh, dear” sound like one. He’s kind. He’s decent. He’s softhearted. He acts as if he’s been practicing being British before there even was an England. But, while he is generally kind and upstanding and soft and suchlike, that doesn’t mean he has to be stupid.
If there was one word, just one, in the entire English language that could describe him, it would be “Intelligent”. Often, this word would also be proceeded by the word “very”. It’s true, too. Aziraphale took to the written word like a duck takes to water, and his bookshop is more of a place to store books than to actually attempt to sell them. He is stuck up and petty about his likes and dislikes, particularly concerning the state of music and restaurants and other such things, and he isn’t at all fond of Australia or televangelists. It isn’t as if heaven is a bad place, necessarily. Just that it doesn’t have any good books, the only composers up there are Elgar and Liszt, and they don’t have a single sushi restaurant. Anyone would go native, given the alternatives.
Aziraphale’s no exception. He’s picked up other things from humans besides their book collections, too. Namely: Free Will. This, of course, comes with a side order of dithering. And Lord, does Aziraphale ever dither. Aziraphale’s disobedience requires alcohol, persuasion, and/or an awful lot of indecision before any choices get made. He doesn’t much get along with other angels, and he doesn’t like thinking about the Ineffable Plan that often, because that means a lot of questions he can’t really answer would come up. He’s much more cynical about things than Crowley, particularly about heaven. Because, unless you’ve been very properly trained, it’s very hard to tell the difference between angels and demons.
Aziraphale’s learned things from them, too. Crowley, in particular. But, to be honest, it isn’t anything he couldn’t have learned from people, either. He’s got a brutal, practical streak to him. His first suggestion to the Anti-Christ dilemma is straight up murder, he’s implied to kill (or worse) the fine men in black suits who come by his book shop and remark about how flammable it is, he steals, he lies, and all in all, he’s just enough of a bastard to be worth liking. He’s not as naturally heroic as Crowley, and needs a bit of pushing to be goaded into action. But once he acts, well, it’s like riding a bike. You never really forget how.
Oh, and he’s the only person in the entire book to say fuck.
Other: Aziraphale has a few extremely broken powers that I’ll probably end up putting a permissions post about. He can create minor miracles, such as healing broken bikes or turning real guns into their harmless water versions. He has an ability that works like Detect Evil, but it’s more like Detect The Feelings in the Area, because when he tries it in Tadfield, all he detects is love. If he’s ever killed, he can get his body back after dealing with a lot of red tape. He can make himself sober. He doesn’t need to breathe. Or eat. Or sleep. He’s an angel. What did you expect?
He’s an over 6,000 year old book worm. He most probably speaks every language in the book, and quite a few that aren’t.
His bookshop is located next to one that sells porn. It’s rather more popular, for fairly obvious reasons.
Additional Links:
4/5
There’s been an awful lot of carollers at the door lately. Which is to be expected, given the time of year, and they do appear to have updated their repertoire this year. The problem is that I’ve run out of ways to make them go away. Politely, at least. At least when the charities come ‘round, there’s always a few pounds to spare, and besides, it’s for a very good cause, so it’s not... well, troublesome. But there seems to be no good way to get the carollers to stop showing up here. If I hear We Wish You A Merry Christmas one more time, I might have to write them a very sternly worded letter. Have they ever even had figgy pudding? I have. It’s not worth singing about, that much I know.
Besides. If they keep coming by the door, some people might notice there’s another book shop here. We can’t be having that now, can we?
5/5
Aziraphale rather liked people. They wrote books, for one very important thing. And Aziraphale could not live without books. If someone cut him open, there’d be a fifty-fifty chance he’d start bleeding ink instead of the angelic substitute for blood. His home is stacked to the rafters with books and scrolls and parchment to the point that someone who didn’t know any better would claim he owned a bookshop. Books were humanity put to paper, wonderful, horrible humanity summed up in skritches of ink.
Nobody Up There understood. He’d tried, on the occasions he’d been around. But they all had smiting to do. Aziraphale never much liked smiting. It tended to leave things rather messy, and took the books away with it. He’d been to Gomorrah. Afterwards. He’d been to Egypt. Afterwards. He’d seen what the Ineffable Plan tended to mean for the people who were scribbled in on the wrong side of it. And it wasn’t as if humanity didn’t do worse things. He’d seen what happened to Baghdad, when the Mongols came and turned the rivers to ink. He’d wanted to sleep for a very long time after that, but he never took to sleeping the way Crowley did.
The problem with people was that they were so temporary. They were just tiny, fragile things. They never lasted very long, individually. Either they’d burn themselves out creating or they’d burn others in destroying. And sooner or later, everyone he knew and all the books he loved would be forgotten or changed or brushed aside by the people who held the pens, Up There or Down Below or on Earth. Ideas were dangerous. Give people ideas and well, who knows what could happen? And any book worth reading gave people ideas.
Up There never much liked books. Or people. Or him, come to think of it.
Sometimes it was lonely, being the only angel on Earth. But a heaven without books was a heaven not worth having. Here, there were books to read, and ducks to feed, and people to meet, and Crowley to talk to. That more than made up for it.
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