#temptress!crowley

[funnyifwebothgotitwrong]

I love her 🔥😍💙

That's it. That's the post.

[khayoszz]

[Gaze of a Temptress]

[elnotwoods]

temptation accomplished

<someone pls check on Aziraphale>

inspired by this post

[bluberryfields]

Supernatural Style Icon

crowley + outfits

[suzypfonne]

Identifying Ethereal, Occult, and Celestial Beings - Field Notes:

Name: [redacted], Crawley, Crowley

Alias(es): Bildad the Shuite, Anthony J Crowley, Nanny Ashtoreth, David Tennant

Species: Angel Serpent of Eden Demon

Date of Creation: Before the Beginning

Date of Destruction: 2019 cancelled

Occupation: tempter temptress retired

Height: 6' 1" unless snake

Hair color: autumn-leaf-red, cherry-cordial-red unless snake

Eye color: pretty

Physical Description: angel snake humanoid flexible

Identifying Features: sunglasses; black exterior, with red accents; freckles, unless snake; refuses to obey gravity mavity

Relationship Status: single smitten divorced it's complicated

Diet: espresso and quite extraordinary amounts of alcohol

Gender: whatever is most inconvenient for the greatest number of people

Pronouns: any

Sexuality: Azisexual

Religion: Aziraphalean he doesn't have faith in much, but he has faith in his angel

[quona]

i have brought her laughing (to my quietly dreaming garden) ------------------------------ The scene: A smoky, velvet-lined speakeasy smudged carelessly somewhere in the pocket of a roaring, glittered New York City, 1924, nighttime. Prohibition is on, but the law books never really dissuade anyone from getting a drink, not if they know where to go. It sure as Hell doesn't stop Crowley from taking her Angel out for a drink, because Aziraphale wanted one. And hey, it's the jazz age, Crowley knows where to get weed again.

This painting is one half of a collaboration I did with my dear friend @thescholarlystrumpet, who wrote a fantastic companion piece on AO3 (Rated M, mind the drug use tag).

“I got something else to liven up your final night in town. If you’re feeling a little… daring.” Crowley looked sidelong at Aziraphale and arched one penciled-on brow. Aziraphale wiggled happily and slid off the stool to sidle closer, until her head was practically on the Demon’s bare shoulder. “Do tell.”  Crowley tried not to shiver as she could feel the Angel’s breath against her heated skin, smell the heady potpourri of perfume, wine, and a pinch of ethereal sweat, taste it on her (currently unforked) tongue. She held up the expertly rolled joint between two fingers accented by red painted talons. “It’s been a very long time, I think, since we really… indulged.” Turning her head just so, nearly nose to nose with her friend. “Don’t you think we’ve earned it?” “Why, you wicked temptress,” Aziraphale murmured, her voice low and slightly breathless, sly smile belying any hint of admonishment. 

full size and detail shots after the jump

[bluberryfields]

The results are in! Got pretty close at the end there.

#1 - Temptress of Golgotha (aka Jesus' Ex-Girlfriend)

#2 - Objector to the Flood (aka Unicorn Rangler)

#3 - Scottish Bodysnatcher (Herring Deliveryman)

I knew my beloved Roman look wasn't going to win but I'm happy with 6th place. It deserves more screen time!

Reposting because I somehow forgot Edinburgh (I'll never forgive myself)

I really wanted to get all of them in one poll, but the delicious demon does love to switch things up. I'll probably do one for the 20th and 21st century looks, too, because yummm

[ivejustbeenthinking]

Crowley as THE temptress. Not just tempting in their physical beauty and any worldy/carnal desires they can offer, but they are THE ORIGINAL temptress.

Aziraphale characterized as the most indulgent and gluttonous person (angel) that could exist as he enjoys human pleasures and is looked down upon by heaven for this.

Crowley serving as the partner who spoils and serves and is utterly enthralled by giving their angel any and everything to please them. Crowley has never tempted anyone and been so pleased by the results. Whether or be tempting with food or tempting with their physical beauty. Crowley loves to tempt and serve to Aziraphale on a platter.

[extraaa-30]

Why soft dom Aziraphale + bratty sub Crowley appeals to me

(be serious though they're both switches)*

Soft Dom Aziraphale

1. heaven

An angel is supposed to be the pure one, undefiled, meek, following orders without question, the girl to be got, the prize to be sought after, the white to be soiled. Subvert it! Aziraphale shouldn't be confined to an eternity of zero agency, naivety, and bland pastels. The idea of Aziraphale getting to really own his "bastard" side, getting to be "selfish," be demanding, be in control--delightful.

And, Aziraphale has guilt complexes on his guilt complexes. Because, unlike most of humanity, he is intimately aware of the righteous, pitiless violence that heaven is capable of. And he's made an art of subtly and ceaselessly defying it by being gentle, by demonstrating enormous restraint. He is a warrior who gave away his holy sword. He swerves severely in the direction of being reserved, harmless, feels clear guilt about any strong desires or direct asks. He has an obvious anxiety about excess (the mental acrobatics he does to justify his book collection, for example, are an entire circus). Free him from the fear of going too far!

2. the effeminate gay man

Thee Southern Pansy, "gay as a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide," with the fancy clothes and prim and proper aesthetic, ever the damsel in distress, flamboyant and limp-wristed, the one who is called slurs by children, the one who is sunshine and sweetness, "the nice one."

Except we know he is secretly a bastard! We know this bitch has preferences! Let him own that! The fact that he is effeminate should not automatically make him more submissive I literally hate that. On the inside Aziraphale is cunty and commanding and he should get to be!

3. with Crowley

Let him say what he craves directly so help me god! No double-speak, no games, no lustfully looking but then looking away immediately. Let him consume. Let him indulge in the gluttony he endlessly flirts with yet denies himself out of guilt and fear. The idea of Aziraphale as a gentle dom just seems so healing, like a puzzle piece that finally gets to click into place without shame.

-------------

Bratty Sub Crowley

1. hell

A demon is supposed to be the impure one, the defiler, the temptress, the seducer, the villain who takes, the black that soils. Subvert it! Crowley shouldn't be confined to the tropes of his demonic nature. He does not just take, just ruin. He is not inherently the one with experience while Aziraphale is the naive, pure little virgin. The idea of him being submissive to an angel (well...to this angel) is a delicious way to challenge that narrative.

And oh my god my girl has trust issues. As a demon his mentality is severely no allies, watch your back, the one who was cast out, rejected for a first offense, shaky ground, always in danger. He's not supposed to trust others, and he has legit biblically valid reasons to be wary and paranoid. Free him from the fear of trusting someone else to take control!

2. Mr. Cool

Mr. Bond, suave, smooth, stoic, sharp angles, stylish and slick, so very dangerous and criminal, the one with the car, the rebel, the snake. Compared with Aziraphale, he's supposed to be Mr. Hardass, "not nice."

Except we know he is secretly a disaster twink, 110% a soft sad little loser under that facade (and not buried that deep either)! He is a romantic who, in spite of hell, wants to give his angel chocolates! Let him own that!

3. with Aziraphale

Let him be unequivocally, unambiguously wanted oh my god! No guessing games! No trying to decipher what the fuck Aziraphale is really saying to him! Free him from the fear of always being "too fast" or "too late." All this bitch wants is for Aziraphale to be pleased by him, by Anthony J-acts-of-service Crowley! The idea of finally allowing him that...another puzzle piece. So satisfying and healing and safe.

-------------

*They're switches your honor

1. "our side"

Not heaven, not hell. Not angels or demons. Not all black or all white. If you think they don't switch, you're wrong.

2. weight & gender

Aziraphale is bigger and keeps his hair short and has a steadiness to him and all those things are perceived as more masculine by some and therefore stronger and more dominant. Fuck that! His size also is too often viewed as something unattractive, which--extremely fuck that. My boy is a treat and a catch. He should get to feel pretty and soft in a totally uncomplicated way as often as he goddamn wants.

Crowley is skinny, often has longer hair, has an absolute treasure hoard of gender, and there's a flightiness to him that's perceived as more feminine by some and therefore weaker and more submissive. Again I say fuck that! His slimness likewise is too often viewed as more desirable, more malleable and able to be cowed; to which I say: die! He is no dainty flower. He actually can often be commanding and capable. Take him seriously.

Furthermore: Aside from the obvious fact that weight, gender, and d/s all have jack shit to do with each other, subverting these tropes remains as important as subverting the other ones. Aziraphale should get to feel delicate and wanted just as much as Crowley. And Crowley should get to feel powerful and in control just as much as Aziraphale. To deny either of them those experiences...bad! Shut up!

3. Crowley & Aziraphale

Their dynamic is already basically gentle dom Aziraphale & bratty sub Crowley. Like literally inches below the surface lmao it's not that hard to spot (see: Az pouts about paint on his jacket, Crowley instantly rushes to fix it but in a cunty way; Crowley pins Az to a wall and Az isn't even slightly intimidated or out of control).

The problem is, they're not talking (see: Az can't ask directly; Crowley has to act tough). Which is why I personally feel that a more honest d/s dynamic, with all that unspoken ritual out in the open, would be an enormous relief for them.

That said, it's not fair to confine them to that familiar dynamic! Crowley isn't a sad wet rat all the time-- let him plan things and have them work out for once. Let him be (on purpose lol) successfully seductive! Likewise Aziraphale deserves to let his fucking hair down. Let my girl not have to do everything in this goddamn house! He deserves to not have to be the one in control all the time. He has trust issues just as deep as Crowley's, and equally deserves to feel safe and wanted.

Also Aziraphale is too much of a hedonist to not want to try everything. If you think he's sticking with one dynamic you are a fool. A clown. As my French-speaking 6,000 year old middle aged babygirl would say: an imbécile.

-------------

I wrote this for me, but if you read this far I hope you enjoyed it lol peace & love on planet earth

[vavoom-sorted-art]

i just randomly remembered a fic i thought youd reblogged, but i scrolled pretty far down your good omens and fic recs tags, but i couldnt find it! i was hoping either you remembered what it was, or if someone following you does

there was an art piece to go alongside it (i dont remember much of it - i think crowley was on the floor but im not sure? perhaps there were ropes? my memory is so bad), and the fic itself was basically crowley and aziraphale roleplaying as aziraphale being a holy angel and crowley being a temptress demon, with aziraphale having defeated him - in sort of a consensual dubcon situation? im probably explaining this so poorly but i just remembered how good the fic was and it's not in my ao3 history 💔

Ohh I'm afraid I have no idea which one you mean 🥲 it doesn't sound like something I would read... The only one remotely close (which I don't think I rb'ed either) is show me how ruin makes a home out of hip bones by NaroMoreau which includes some pretty epic Aziraphale True Form fuckery, but I don't think it's the one you're looking for.

Can anyone here help?

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

The Albatross by Swift is an Ineffable Husbands song.

LISTEN. OKAY. I KNOW Y'ALL ARE THE HOZIERY FOLKS, GOOD OMENS FANDOM. AND THAT'S FINE. BUT I'M STILL YOUR OFFICIAL MASCOT SO SIT DOWN AND LISTEN TO FOR A MINUTE. YOU CAN HAVE YOUR OPINIONS ABOUT TAYLOR SWIFT OF COURSE, BUT LOOK. THE ALBATROSS FROM TTPD. IT'S THEM. IT'S SO FUCKING THEM.

Wise men once said "Wild winds are death to the candle" A rose by any other name is a scandal

The angels all describing Crowley as evil, you can think of the candle as the light of God or divinity, and Crowley's a demon, and for Aziraphale and Crowley to love each other would be, to put it lightly, a scandal.

Cautions issued, he stood Shooting the messengers They tried to warn him about her

Aziraphale ignores their warnings about Crowley at least to the extent that he still spends time with her, he still falls in love with her. How can he not?

Cross your thoughtless heart Only liquor anoints you She's the albatross She is here to destroy you

Cross your heart, hope to die. They warn him that he's not thinking this through. Only liquor, the wine that they drink together, that's the only holy liquid that anoints Aziraphale when he's with Crowley (anoint is to pour on someone as part of a religious ceremony). Crowley is the albatross, the demon, and they say she's here to destroy him, to make him fall.

Wise men once said "One bad seed kills the garden" "One less temptress One less dagger to sharpen"

One bad seed kills the garden. Crowley is the bad seed. She's the reason for the Garden of Eden being killed, for Adam and Eve having to exit it. They want to get rid of her. She is the temptress, the original temptress, the first one.

(Continuing after the cut coz i have a LOT to say and there are more stanzas)

Locked me up in towers But I'd visit in your dreams And they tried to warn you about me

Crowley is locked up in Hell, thrown out from Heaven, but she still haunts Aziraphale's dreams, he still yearns for her, she still circles him. The angels continue to vilify her.

Devils that you know Raise worse hell than a stranger She's the death you chose You're in terrible danger

Crowley's the devil, the demon, that Aziraphale knows. And the angels, and Metatron, warn him that she's far more dangerous than everyone else from Hell. And that if he chooses her, he chooses death (a threat by the Metatron). And all demons are evil, but she's the one he's choosing.

And when that sky rains fire on you And you're persona non grata I'll tell you how I've been there too And that none of it matters

The sky raining fire, the M-15 on fire, the apocalypse day. Aziraphale is in trouble with Heaven because he defied them to stop the apocalypse. And Crowley's saying that she's been there too, she's been called evil by Heaven, she's been cast out, and that none of it matters, what's the point?

Wise men once read fake news And they believed it Jackals raised their hackles

The angels, even the better ones, following the Metatron and the 'Great Plan' blindly, believing everything. Jackals in the Bible apparently signify desolation and they wait, silently, indifferent to the perils of those around them, just wanting to survive. Like the angels, indifferent to the world and to Aziraphale and Crowley--or Crowley, indifferent to Heaven and Hell, caring only about Aziraphale and her world, wanting to just escape, to survive.

You couldn't conceive it You were sleeping soundly When they dragged you from your bed And I tried to warn you about them

Aziraphale still holding on to the hope that he can change things, struggling to let go of his trauma and realise that Heaven is not all good (he couldn't conceive it). And how he was just trying to do good, to be good, and was believing the best of them when they dragged him (Crowley, technically, but they thought it was him) to burn in hellfire. And how Crowley always warned him about Heaven.

So I crossed my thoughtless heart Spread my wings like a parachute I'm the albatross I swept in at the rescue

Crowley, ride or die with Aziraphale. Spreading her wings to protect Aziraphale from the stardust coalescing into stars. Sweeping in to rescue him, at the church, at the Bastille.

The devil that you know Looks now more like an angel I'm the life you chose And all this terrible danger

The devil that Aziraphale knows, Crowley, is beginning to seem more angelic than the angels themselves. Because it's her. And she's flawed but kind and loving. And she's the life that he chose, even with all the danger that it entails. In the end, he will choose her.

So. Yeah. Good Omens Mascot, doing fine, not brainrotted at all.

--I lie, like a lying liar who is lying.

[angie-words]

Putting this here for accountability maybe? To whom, I'm not sure. Anyway, I've got three four fics I'm planning/writing at the moment:

Side story for my Write A Way AU (Crowley in lingerie because why not, explicit)

Another side story for Write A Way (silly, humourous fluff)

Priest!Crowley falling in love with a certain blonde-haired non-parishioner (inevitably eventually explicit)

Femme Aziraphale being the most unsubtle, heavy-handed temptress, but getting frustrated with a very oblivious Crowley (explicit as hell)

It's been quite something to complete a long-form fic, yet even more exciting to realise I have so many more ideas and the actual desire, energy and ability to write them

[depraveddame]

Ineffable Kinktober, Day 3: Authority ⚓️✨

Very loosely inspired by The Terror 💫

CW: Captain/steward relationship, D/s, boot worship, oral sex, come swallowing, mention of/referenced consensual flogging, wax play and human furniture

*

The polished glide of leather under his tongue is a more generous provision than Crowley ever might have allowed himself to hope for, and his captain’s tender, murmuring praise is another impossible gift entirely.

“Such a meticulous and fastidious mouth you have, Crowley,” Captain Aziraphale Fell whispers so affectionately that Crowley has to close his eyes, needing to scrawl that exact adoring tone into the walls of his heart along with the rest of the entries inspired by the man he serves with all of its beating strength.

There had been nothing particularly moving in regards to being a steward until Crowley came into the service of Captain Fell, who had greeted him with a smile and a handshake, the haughty countenance commonly adhered to great men nowhere to be found on his person. He’s since come to know that Captain Fell is indeed a great man, one that makes Crowley feel like he’s a precious thing, more treasured than any rare cargo or that insidious temptress known as glory, the one that seduces droves of men into her false promise.

Crowley has always had a talent for serving, and it had never been acknowledged as much more than a job he’s meant to do, but that changed as the steward of Captain Fell, who expressed such unfettered delight in him that Crowley could scarcely withhold himself from begging to drop to his knees in his presence.

Luckily for him, he didn’t have to resort to pleading, and now he’s exactly where he longs to be; on his knees, the planks of the ship cutting into them sweetly as he cleans his captain’s boots, which he keeps spotless anyway, but that he aches to burnish with his tongue nonetheless.

It’s a merciful largesse, as are the many excess acts of service Captain Fell grants Crowley along with his typical duties— to function as his footstool at the end of a tiring day, to splay across his lap, his naked back a writing desk or a stand for whatever book Fell buries himself in, offering a bare wrist to test the viscosity of the scalding wax used to seal letters, the pinkened skin they leave behind kissed and soothed by a comforting tongue that journeys upward to leave behind its own signature on territory easily concealed by a high collar.

Crowley shivers as a draft catches him, wearing naught but a long linen shirt, exposed feet and legs bearing most of the chill as he gazes up into eyes more fair than a clear autumn morning, the cold not registering beyond the haze of warmth surrounding him as he dutifully favors the obsidian leather encasing the feet he worships.

“You’re cold, dear boy,” Captain Fell extends a hand down to thread his fingers through Crowley’s hair, massaging his scalp and delicately scratching, causing Crowley to swallow his possibly impertinent protest of ‘no sir, not at all; I’m on fire, as I always am at your feet’, “and I cannot in good conscience abide such a thing.”

The hand in his hair retreats only to offer itself to him, palm up, a gentlemanly invitation Crowley takes with a trembling hand, getting to his feet and standing before Fell, who leans forward, pressing his cheek to Crowley’s stomach and slipping his fingers beneath the thin garment ending at his thighs, palming at his hips and lower back with gently insistent desire.

“S-sir,” Crowley breathes when Captain Fell nuzzles against his erection; he’s been hard since he’d begun his endeavor, his body responding to the position of being on its knees and his tongue servicing as it’s meant to do, “let me— please, allow me to—”

He’s trying to beg for the privilege to take Fell in his mouth, to implore him not to bother with Crowley’s pleasure, it’s not important and it’s beneath his dignity to even consider such a thing despite how divine it would feel, but he’s cut off by a warm palm taking him in hand, by a practiced thumb spreading the welling evidence of his desire over the length of his cock before fully stroking him from root to head, and Crowley shoves a fist in his mouth to stifle his nearly pained moan.

“I know you’d not deny your captain, hm?” Fell whispers as his hand easily slips and slides over Crowley’s cock, working him exactly as he likes, with just the right amount of pressure and a twist towards the head that has him whimpering helplessly into his hand, “you’ll permit me to savor my steward just as I like, I daresay.”

Crowley nods, hesitantly rocking his hips in pursuit of the friction of the hand pumping him that Fell briefly withdraws in order to lavish with his tongue, wetting it in a gesture that has Crowley fearing he may faint before it returns to its previous, gloriously expert rhythm.

“It ought to be a sin, assigning someone so beguiling and beautifully obedient to a selfish man such as me,” Fell looks up at Crowley before licking the head of his cock languidly, luxuriously lapping at the slit and making it impossible to breathe; Crowley reaches out to brace himself against a wool clad shoulder, gripping the fabric and trying to mumble out an automatic apology for doing so until his captain nods, murmuring, “yes, my darling, that’s it; lean on me,” he returns to sucking Crowley with a passion that’s dizzying, as if he’s relishing in a delicacy he’s not had in years, and it still feels wrong, being the one to receive such ardent attentions instead of giving them, but Fell is right— who is Crowley to deny his captain?

“Sir, I-I’m—” Crowley does as he’s told and sinks his weight into Fell, whose legs are spread and bracketing Crowley’s bare ones, protectively framing his shaking form; the hand not playing with his cock kneads all over Crowley’s lower body, and when its fingers trace over the healing, sensitive welts adorning his upper thighs that he’d pleaded his captain to bestow on him— the ones that when given made him come all over the cabin floor untouched— that’s when he loses the weakening control over himself.

“Please,” Crowley scrambles to grab Fell’s other shoulder, his fingernails digging into the navy wool so harshly it hurts, his jaw smarting with the effort to keep quiet, his voice quivering, “m-may I, sir, p-please, may I come—”

Fell nods before pulling back just enough to murmur, “come, my sweet siren,” his one hand not diverting from its course over his cock, wet and slick and lovely, his other still teasing along the tender wheals of what was a skillfully administered, devastatingly loving flogging, “grant me the pleasure of having you, just like this,” he takes Crowley back inside his mouth, the suction and glide of his tongue shattering the last of Crowley’s resolve, who returns a fist to his mouth, hoping it muffles his cry enough as he comes. He spills into his captain’s mouth and throat, collapsing against him in a boneless heap, pulled into his arms like a tide pulling the sea back into its heart once it wanders too far, just as his captain always draws Crowley into his strong, steady embrace.

@quefish77

[beebopboom]

Ok so i couldn’t stop thinking about the cut dream scene and this is what happened (not to be takin that serious i mean it was cut for a reason - just putting it out there)

One - it was Gabriel's. He was the one throughout this season that gave us the prophecies and after both of them he goes to lay down - Aziraphale tells him to the first time and then Crowley mentions that he heard him sleeping after the second - it could have been after both of them (but I’m leaning more towards the temptress one that only Crowley sees) and it wouldn't be surprising if they had triggered some sort of nightmare - and he would have more information if this sequence was supposed to hint at stuff for the next season

Or

Two - it was Crowley’s. And it happened the night Aziraphale got back from Edinburgh. It's late when he gets back and we know at some point Crowley leaves after they both head back to the bookshop because the next morning (and episode!) Crowley arrives back at the bookshop - at which point we get Crowley following Aziraphale around after asking and then we get the line “i spent last night worrying if he’s going to wake up. what if he remembers who he is, what if he’s faking it” -so it's crowley’s first night back in his Bentley after being awake the entire time in the bookshop so he nods off a little and has a nightmare that leaves him rattled to the point of wanting to constantly be around Aziraphale the next day and he is back to being aggressive/threatening to Gabriel (this would mean next season is crowley’s worst nightmare - which tracks)

also just gonna leave this here…. where’d you come from hmmm?

[vintage-bentley]

It drives me crazy that the popular fanon for Crowley is that he’s a “slutty” scantily-clad incubus type demon who tempts via seduction. Because he’s very much the opposite.

It’s canon that Crowley’s style of temptation is so successful and inventive because he deals with the masses. So maybe he’d invent a hookup app, but he wouldn’t seduce a singular human. That’s literally the whole point of why so many demons Don’t Get Him. They believe that temptation is picking away at one singular human for 10 years. Crowley believes that it’s doing something to cause a mass amount of people to sin, which then trickles down and affects a whole other bunch of people (example, the telephone lines. People are pissed off, which causes them to lash out at others, which causes those people to lash out at others, and the cycle continues).

Crowley, at heart, is an engineer. He’s all about creating the most efficient way to get as much done as possible. Just look at how excited he was about the idea of a “star factory”. Individual seductions are simply not his style.

Yet the fandom is obsessed with the idea of him as a “temptress”. I’m sure it has to do with how they’re also obsessed with feminising him. They see him as “womanly”, and of course all women are good for is being seductive vixens. And of course, many of these people are very attracted to Crowley, and want to imagine him being “sexy”. I guess they’d rather fantasise about him half naked and seducing somebody, than him snickering behind a computer as he fucks with the code for Christian Mingle.

And I understand that a large part of fandom is to create what you want to see. But what I don’t understand, is why what people want to see is so far removed from who this character is. What is even the point of continuing to use this character as your muse, if what you want to see is so far removed from who he is? Why not just create an OC loosely based on him? I miss when fandom was about exploring the actual characters, and not just twisting them beyond recognition.

[a-zira-fell]

The Coffee Manipulation

The tactics of heaven are so simple but soo effective. That's why Aziraphale goes back to them so easily. He was out, but still so adjacent (in his morals and views and thought processes) that all he needed was one Strategically Reassuring Hand (Humble Offer of Coffee) from an Authority Figure (wow the Metatron himself) on his shoulder, to signal that a symptom of what Aziraphale himself had always considered to set him apart from other 'purer' (paraphrased from Gabriel s1) angels (consuming food and drink), was not something that should keep him from Heaven (Institution).

That Crowley (The One Who Introduced Aziraphale To Food) (the temptress) (Aziraphale Knowing About Crowley Tempting Eve) and this ''''lifestyle'''' (with all that entails) they are creating for themselves, was not something that should keep him out of Heaven (Institution).

And what's more, Crowley could join him there.

It's like dangling a carrot (Aziraphale in a heaven he has always hoped he'd be good enough for despite being so much better, with Crowley at his side, restored to the form that Aziraphale deems appropriate with how good he perceives Crowley to be) in front of a Minecraft Hog (Aziraphale, eager to Eat A Carrot and have hearts evaporate from him).