App for Underworld Wars
|| Player Information ||
Name: Jamie
Personal Journal: hellblazing
Time zone: Central
Contact: parting_wings [at] hotmail [dot] com; AIM is elysianreality
Current Characters: Varric Tethras
|| Character Information ||
Fandom: Good Omens
Name: Anthony J. Crowley
Canon Point: The New Years Resolutions, 2006, so roughly 16 years after the book
Is this character dead? Nope!
History:
In the beginning Crowley started off as an angel (as most demons did). When the great schism in Heaven occurred he was one of the ones that went Down Below--not because he intended to, but simply because he hung out with the wrong people. He didn't so much Fall as Saunter Vaguely Downward.
The next time Crowley pops up is during the whole Garden of Eden affair, when he was told by his superiors to "get up there and make some trouble." Back then he was known not as Crowley but as Crawly, the snake who tempted Eve to eat the apple. Afterward he had a talk with Aziraphale, the angel at the gate with the flaming sword, who had in fact just given away said flaming sword to the exiled humans.
According to one of his colleagues, Crowley's been on Earth since the very start. Over the millennia he's done various things including meeting Leonardo daVinci (and giving him the idea for helicopters) and sleeping through the entire nineteenth century (except for that one time he had to get up to use the lavatory). He received a commendation from Down There for the Spanish Inquisition, even though at the time he'd merely been hanging about in Spanish cantinas and knew nothing about the Inquisition. After doing a bit of investigation into the matter he drank for a week straight.
He absolutely hated the fourteenth century. Most boring century ever.
Back in the year 1020 Crowley and Aziraphale began what is now known as the Arrangement. One of the side-effects of spending so much time on Earth and around humans has been a dramatic increase in both the angel and the demon of something quite a bit like Free Will--though of course they can't actually have Free Will so it must be something else. Yes.
Er, anyway. The Arrangement is simply an agreement between Crowley and the angel to sort of support each other in their endeavors, or in some instances to not interfere in the affairs of the other. This leaves them free to develop their own projects and in certain cases actually help the other, because it was going to get done anyway. The Arrangement has been working well for the both of them ever since. A funny side effect of this little agreement (as well as being pretty much the only ones around consistently for six thousand years) has been a sort of friendship between the angel and the demon. Occasionally they'll do the Ritz together, and they rather enjoy feeding the ducks at St. James Park while they discuss business (though Aziraphale often has to remind Crowley not to drown the ducks). Crowley also has a habit of hanging around Aziraphale's bookshop and pestering the angel.
Lately the Apocalypse happened--or at least, tried to happen. On one Not-So-Dark and Not-So-Stormy night Crowley was entrusted with the delivery of the Antichrist, the cute little bundle of joy set to kick off the end of the world as we know it. Crowley, in a panic, did as he was told (what other choice did he have?) and then promptly ran to Aziraphale to get sloshed. Neither of them wanted the end of the world! What about all the sushi restaurants? The two of them decided to try and influence the child in each of their respective "directions," so that hopefully the good and evil upbringings would cancel each other out and the Apocalypse wouldn't turn out after all.
Several years later it became apparent that something had gone terribly awry. The child that Crowley and Aziraphale had been doing their level best to influence for the last decade or so...wasn't the Antichrist.
So there they were, impending Apocalypse and all, and no Antichrist.
Hell, as one might expect, was furious.
They blamed it on Crowley--he'd been the one entrusted with the delivery of the child. Hastur and Ligur, his old friends from that fateful night all those years ago, were dispatched to take care of him. One of them Crowley "took care of" via holy water (an awful way to go) and the other he tricked into an answering machine (long story).
In order to get to where the Antichrist actually was, Crowley had to take his poor, beloved Bentley through the M25--the Odegra--which thanks to the oncoming Apocalypse had turned into one long highway of flaming death. Good thing he's fireproof. The Bentley, sadly, wasn't quite so lucky.
Long story short, Armageddon was averted through absolutely no fault of Crowley's. The Antichrist turned out to be a pretty decent kid, and Crowley got his Bentley back good as new. Maybe even better than new.
((I'm also including the 2006 New Years' Resolutions as canon--and yes, they were actually written by the authors. There's not a whole lot of extra information in them, other than hints about what the angel and the demon have been up to for the last decade and a half. To read the resolutions please see the link above.))
Almost twenty years have passed since the almost-Apocalypse, and for the most part things are right back to how they used to be. Crowley's superiors have been quieter than usual since that incident, which Crowley is thoroughly grateful for (and completely chalks up to them being scared shitless of Adam). He and Aziraphale still meet regularly and still go through the motions of their jobs. Crowley's rather put-out that he didn't get any sort of award for "googling yourself" or for iPods, but that's life for you.
Personality:
Crowley is Hell's most approachable demon. Sure he's an evil, sarcastic bastard, and sure he'd just as soon tempt you into a life of sin as anything else, but he's no monster. Crowley likes his temptation with a serious helping of style--and unlike the rest of Hell, Crowley's style is modern.
Game shows? Yeah, he came up with those. Value-added tax? Manchester? Googling yourself? That's all Crowley. He's been around Earth since the beginning of things ("gone native" in the words of another demon) and unlike most of the infernal henchmen you see running around these days, Crowley thinks. A lot. Too much, some might say. It's his thinking that earned him a commendation for rerouting the M25 motorway in England into the infernal symbol Odegra, though, and how many people travel that route every day?
Welsh language television. Need I say more?
Crowley enjoys his work, but not with the zeal of someone like Hastur or Ligur. He's actually pretty jaded when it comes to the metaphysical--which is saying a lot, considering he's in on the whole thing. He'll tell you flat out, though, that good and evil are just sides; they don't really mean anything in great big cosmic terms. Though he'll rarely do it aloud, he'll often wax philosophic to himself about the nature of things, ineffability and all that. A lot of times this Deep Thinking centers around humanity.
Crowley's rather enamored with humans (hence why he and Aziraphale were so intent on averting Armageddon). He figures Hell's got a lot to learn from them, too. Whereas demons are sort of like the tax collectors of the universe (just doing their jobs, no matter how unpopular), humans have the potential for evil that demons couldn't even dream of. Hell could never hope to compete with someone like Hitler and Crowley knows it, but it's often the little, annoying, infernally frustrating things about humanity that he picks up on and uses to his advantage. He frequently sends little memos or packages to the guys Down Below, once with a note attached to a bundle of warranty paperwork that simply said "Learn, guys."
Just because he enjoys his work doesn't mean that he's fond of the system, however. In Hell's bureaucracy he's pretty much on the bottom of the food chain. The higher-ups can boss him around however they like, and Crowley doesn't really have any say in the matter. The easiest way to see just how frustrating he finds this? Look at his plants. He terrorizes the poor things simply because he can, because in the grand scheme of things the plants are just as far below him--and just as helpless--as Crowley is to the rest of Hell. The fact that Crowley taking his frustrations out on his houseplants happens to make them the greenest houseplants in all of London is just a happy coincidence.
Appearances are big, for Crowley, and he definitely enjoys the best in life. His flat is in one of the most expensive areas in London (and actually the world--I looked it up). His car is a 1926 Bentley one owner from new (that owner happening to be Crowley himself). All of the furnishings in his apartment are new, trendy, and very expensive--including his computer, which is sort of like a Porsche with a screen. Rather ironic that the demon who tries to tempt humans with earthly delights is so often dazzled by them himself, isn't it?
(The Bentley, it should be stated, is Crowley's prize possession. He tells Aziraphale at one point in the novel that it's a sort of "whole-body glove.")
Even though he's a demon, Crowley's not all bad. Just...don't say it to his face. Whether it's something that's rubbed off from spending too much time around Aziraphale, something to do with the fact that he hadn't even really meant to Fall, or maybe just because he thinks more than your average demon (or possibly a combination of all three), Crowley's really not such a bad guy to have around. He once breathed life into a dove carelessly left to die by Aziraphale, though he tried to do it without making a big deal of it. Usually he'll do the "right" thing, but he'll do his damndest to cover it up. And when Crowley's not quite up to doing the "right" thing? Aziraphale's usually there to prod him into it anyway (annoying angel).
Don't get me wrong though. You'll hardly ever catch him driving anything under 90 miles per hour, no matter the original speed limit. He's fully willing to take something away from someone else if he wants it. He flagrantly disobeys the rules (reservations at the Ritz? pfft, reservations are something that happens to other people). Despite his flair for the insidious and devious types of evil, he's also silly and petty enough to let out the tires on a car for a bit of demonic fun.
Skills | Powers:
Crowley's demonic powers include several forms of minor reality manipulation. He can conjure small objects from nothing (typically this involves making a new set of clothes for himself, rather than have to deal with doing laundry), change the properties of objects (wishing away the dents on his car), and force objects into being simply by assuming that they exist. He can hold things together with his mind when by all rights they should be falling apart, as well as make things work in a way that they wouldn't ordinarily. He can even change events to some degree so that they work in his favor, such as arranging for no one to get in the way of his car so that he can safely drive like a maniac. His conjuration abilities also extend to things such as drumming up hurricanes and using complex demonic hand signs to turn an object into something unspeakable.
As a demon he is also fireproof, can see in the dark, and can change his size/shape to pretty much anything he wants. Physics don't really hold demons to the same standards as humans. He has control over his body to the extent that he can purge toxins from it with just a thought. Demons don't need to eat, sleep or breathe, though Crowley prefers to do all three. Technically he's also immortal, though his physical body isn't death-proof. If he is killed in the Underworld he'd die just like anyone else, given that he has no way of going to his own version of Hell to retrieve a new body. He has black wings that he can make appear for flight or intimidation purposes, though typically they're winched in and out of sight.
Because his specific job is temptation, Crowley is able to sense a person's innermost desires. He can also hypnotize humans and fiddle with their memories just by snapping his fingers.
It's also stated that Crowley sometimes fills in for Aziraphale as a professional courtesy, and as part of the Arrangement, so he's able to do typically angelic types of things if he has to; this means he's able to do most of what Aziraphale can do, such as healing, producing light, and possessing those with an occult inclination.
His biggest weakness is holy water. Holy water, in the Good Omens universe, makes demons fizzle out of existence rather painfully. Even so much as a drop would be fatal.
It's also implied that a gunshot, or some other kind of wound that would be fatal to humans, would kill off Crowley's body--both he and Aziraphale assume for a few moments after being shot that they've died, only to realize a bit later that they were only shot with paintballs. Again, because he has no way of travelling to his version of Hell, he would have no way of getting a new body. If he sees a threat coming it's pretty easy for him to use his powers to circumvent the danger; the easiest way to "kill" him is to catch him by surprise.
He's also not very good with animals.
First Person Sample:
[As the video feed begins there is Crowley, perpetually in his sunglasses, fiddling with the tablet in the manner of a child with a shiny new toy. He does so love technology, and his reality is still a year away from the first iPhone.]
Is it--Right, it's on. Hallo.
Ah... I'm looking for someone. An ang- er, a man. Blond, glasses, looks a bit like a grammar school librarian? Probably wandering around in an argyle sweater--and not ironically, either. I've already tried the library... and I'm fairly positive the Underworld isn't exactly brimming with sushi restaurants or antique shops, which means I'm at a loss.
And no, before anyone asks, I can't simply phone him up and ask him where he's gone to. Unless I miss my mark, his tablet is likely serving as a coaster for a cup of hot chocolate at the moment. He gets on with technology like a fish in motor oil.
[He sighs] At any rate, if anyone hears from a Zira or a Mr. Fell, give me a ring.
I don't suppose there are any duck ponds down here...
Third Person Sample:
If the situation weren't so bloody ridiculous he'd be almost appalled at the domesticity of it.
His suit jacket comes off just inside the front door, tossed with carefully measured carelessness across the arm of the sofa as he makes his way toward the kitchen. The sunglasses stay on, as always, though he slips a finger under the knot of his tie to loosen it. The lights in the flat wink on seemingly of their own accord, one by one, as he passes through each room.
"Yes, yes, I'm back," the demon drawls as he crosses into the suddenly illuminated kitchen. He opens the door to the refrigerator and leans in, one arm hanging on the door. "I don't suppose you've missed me?"
The blob in the crisper doesn't reply. Crowley finds this discretion to be a large part of its charm.
It was a tool for therapy, once. Roughly the size of Crowley's fist, it looks a bit like a rather large dollop of hair gel that no one's bothered to clean up. It also moves, albeit extraordinarily slowly, and enjoys lettuce a great deal. Crowley's taken to leaving it in the crisper of the refrigerator--the blob gets to enjoy lettuce to its dubiously-existent heart's content, and Crowley keeps from stepping on the thing and making a mess of the carpet. All in all, it's probably the most sensible and hassle-free pet arrangement he could've asked for...had he been inclined to ask for a pet in the first place.
An hour later he's lounging on the sofa, watching an old episode of House. The titular character has just spiked Wilson's coffee with amphetamines, and Crowley is vaguely wondering how long it would take Aziraphale to realise what was going on before dumping any sort of foreign substance from his system-and more importantly, what he might be able to con the angel into doing before said angel figured things out.
From the other half of the sofa, down on the seat cushion, there is a soft chiming sound.
"Oh go on," Crowley replies, flipping channels with a quick motion of his hand toward the flatscreen. "It isn't as if I would actually do it, is it? I'm certain he'd know, anyway...at least, I think he'd know.
"...or would he?"
From the next seat cushion over, the blob remains motionless disapprovingly.
It's nearly as good as having the angel around to chastise him, Crowley reflects, except this version doesn't steal his desserts.