It Happened One Night, In 1941.

It happened one night, in 1941.

(aka how to get away with an insane amount of romantic tropes and innuendos) Part one.

A close-up of Crowley's hands. He is taking from an envelope the polaroid of him and Aziraphale at the magic show.

I have to split this post into two parts - the second one is already written - because Tumblr clearly doesn't understand the absolute necessity to analyze in excruciating details every single frame of the 1941 flashback or they wouldn't have put a ridiculous 10 images limit.

Now buckle up, because these two did more things in one night than me in my entire life.

Let's set the scene. London. The Blitz. Aziraphale enters a church, pretending to deliver a bag full of precious books to a couple of moronic n*zi spies. He ends up to be doublecrossed by a third n*zi spy.

We already know from the Bastille flashback how much Crowley loves to play the role of the knight in shining clothes to his angel in distress. And sure enough, right on time, Crowley makes his appearance, with a brand new suit and a brand new name, casually hopping on the consecrated ground. You know, the consecrated ground that could literally burn his feet. Right next to a holy water font. Only for Aziraphale. Sometimes we forget how much he’s brave.

Crowley (on the left, leaning on one foot) and Aziraphale (on the right) are in the center of the church nave.

Let's ignore the fact that they’re literally standing in the middle of a church’s nave and in the middle of the only beam of light in a scene otherwise dark.

But, as every romance book/movie/show teaches us, engaging in a playful banter is always a must.

“What are you doing here?”

“Stopping you getting into trouble.”

“I should have known. Of course. These people are working for you.”

“No.[…]I just didn't want to see you embarrassed.”

Listen, Anthony, I can see the appeal of the grumpy x sunshine trope, but we know that rescuing Aziraphale makes you happy. You’re risking to be discorporated or worse - the holy water is still right there - just for helping him. We know it, Aziraphale knows it (and he loves it).

And now some casual flirting in front of the n*azis’ salad.

“Anthony?”

“You don't like it?” (Don’t you like my new name, Angel? I can take yours, if you want…)

“No, no, I didn't say that. I'll get used to it.”

It’s funny how the n*zis insist on continuing with their threats, because Azi’s ass is not listening.

“What does the "J" stand for?”

This is comedy gold, of course. However, from the moment Crowley has hopped into the church, Aziraphale’s attention didn’t stray from him not even for a moment.

With a quick exchange, they come up with a plan. Playing the savior, Crowley performs a demonic intervention to blow up the church. Azi performs a miracle to save himself and Crowley. This whole shenanigan is noteworthy, not only because they’re working together, but also because we can see how quickly they decide to trust each other. Keep this in mind, because the whole concept of “trust” will be a recurring theme in this flashback.

Furthermore - I’m probably reading too much into this - let’s think about the symbolism. Aziraphale and Crowley, together, destroy both the church - heaven - and the n*zis - evil. They’re already on their own side. Also, foreshadowing? Heaven and Hell dismantled once and for all and Crowley and Aziraphale alive, together? We can dream.

Could Aziraphale have miracled his way out of the situation all by himself? Maybe. Probably. But this is so much better for their relationship. Aziraphale trusted Crowley and undoubtedly enjoyed, once again, the role of the damsel in distress. Crowley trusted that Aziraphale would save them both with a real miracle. And it’s not over yet.

The image is dimly lit, but we can see Crowley's smirk. He is about to give Aziraphale the book bag.

Look at Crowley’s cheeky smirk. It’s time to shine!

Crowley (on the right) is giving to Aziraphale (on the left) the bag with the books. They're staring straight into each other's eyes.

The image is dimly lit, but they are eyefucking staring straight into each other's eyes. How many tropes can you find in this image? Forbidden romance, slow burn, mutual pining, belligerent sexual tension… you name it. And in a minute we’ll have one huge love epiphany.

But, before that, we have THIS.

A close-up of their hands during the same scene of the previous picture. Aziraphale’s finger brush Crowley’s hand.

Oh, this is the period drama kind of romance! The casual touching hands, just for a moment, in a way that has no right to be SO. DAMN. SENSUAL. The Jane Austen-esque fantasies Aziraphale must been having for more than a century by now are finally happening! And 64 years before the iconic P&P's cinematic hand flex™ no less.

See? Aziraphale’s finger brush Crowley’s hand. I know, the whole thing lasts less than a second. But if I stare at this gif for too long I start to feel touch-starved.

I'm also thinking about the parallelism between Crowley saving Aziraphale's books in a period drama kind of way and the fact that Aziraphale will be willing to give away some books to throw the Jane Austen ball (just to touch Crowley’s hand). These two… I can’t.

And now the epiphany.

Aziraphale's staring at Crowley who has just rescued his books. He looks... smitten?

Crowley has rescued the books, Aziraphale's most valued possession. Aziraphale didn't ask him to do it, he hadn't even remember about the books until after the explosion. But Crowley knew how important they were to him. Crowley's gesture has nothing to do with the agreement or the greater good or the paperwork: it’s personal. It’s intimate. He has saved something dear to his angel’s heart. Azi loves the books -> Crowley rescues the books -> Aziraphale realizes that… oh. Look at his smile of amazement: he is literally paralyzed by what he is experiencing.

This is the definition of the love epiphany trope:

“When a character realizes they are in love with another character. This is not when the character confesses this love to that other character or anyone else, but when the character realizes it themselves. Often this can be when a character had feelings already and realized this has blossomed into love, or when a character has been in denial about these feelings until this moment.”

We are witnessing a textbook example. The music emphasizes it. In that single moment, Aziraphale not only acknowledges his feelings, but also everything that just happened. What Crowley just did for him. The level of mutual trust. Aziraphale’s feelings are not one-sided.

Aziraphale (on the right) is looking at Crowley (on the left). They're in the Bentley, outside there are fire and explosions. Aziraphale's expression is… desire?

“You know... that was a very nice thing… you did for me. […] There must be something I can do for you… in return.”

Yes, I KNOW what you’re thinking, but let’s pretend to be oblivious as Crowley and let’s focusing on the imagery instead. They are literally driving through an inferno of explosions and who knows what else, but inside the Bentley they are safe. Somehow the scene manages to create a feeling of intimacy, so we, as well as them, can forget about whatever is happening outside. The Bentley is a shelter, just for the two of them. And there’s more. As the car moves forward, they’re lit by fire, literally the most common symbol of passion, desire and very un-angelic lust. If this seems unlikely to you, take a look at Aziraphale's eyes and smile in the picture above. Whatever he's thinking, it's not in the bible.

Fast forward to the ♪ The West End ♪

Mrs. H. gives Crowley a scolding for breaking the bottles with the smuggled liquor, earning in return this disdainful look from a protective Aziraphale.

Aziraphale is staring disdainfully in Mrs. H's direction.

Who, in the nine circles of heaven, gave you the nerve and the right to talk to my Antony Janthony like that?

Despite having rescued Azi’s books, Crowley had totally forgotten about the liquor he was supposed to deliver. Now it’s Aziraphale’s time to shine: it’s his turn to play the savior. This angelic mastermind decides to offer his services as an… expert… of the art of prestidigitation. And, doing so, Aziraphale:

1. Gets a chance to realize his magician fantasies.

2. Gets a chance to do something for Crowley.

3. Gets a chance to spend more time with Crowley.

Clever angel.

A wide shot. In the foreground we have the wooden frames of a bookshop window, through which we can see Crowley (from behind, on the left) and Aziraphale (on the right). The scene is lit by a soft, warm light.

It may be trivial, but I love this shot. The warm light, the window frame: it's as if we’re peeking into their domestic life. The aesthetic is exactly the opposite of the heaven’s one - cold and aseptic - and the hell’s one - cold and crowded. Presumably, this is the first time that Aziraphale invites Crowley into the bookshop, his favorite place, destined to become their safe place. The atmosphere is welcoming, intimate and homely.

A picture split in two. Crowley is on the left, Aziraphale on the right. They seem sad, disappointed.

“Cheers for getting me off the hook.”

“Oh, there's no need to thank me, that's what... friends are for.”

I know everyone on this site has already pointed this out, but i have to mention the friends’ line. And how they look after that line. Yes, yes, they’re an angel and a demon, they’re not supposed to be friends, so admitting it out loud is a huge step. BUT they don’t look surprised or afraid that someone could hear them or anything like that: they’re looking disappointed, even miserable. Azi seems sad, Crowley’s looking as he’s about to discorporate inside. I haven't seen such a reaction since Michael Sheen had to call Aziraphale and Crowley “best buddies”. And this is the only moment in an otherwise funny scene in which they seem so unhappy.

My explanation is that the word friends left a bad taste in their mouths, destabilizing them both. Although they wouldn't talk about their feelings out loud, deep down they know that "friends" isn't right. Come on, Aziraphale just had his big revelation moment! I'm not saying that they're ready to plan a little cottagecore wedding - even though that wouldn’t be a bad idea - but friends isn’t the word to describe 6000 years of… whatever you wish to call it.

Now, I have so much more to say, but the tumblr app warned me that I had exceeded the image limit, just as I was about to include the gif of Crowley unbuttoning his jacket and stroking the tie… you know which gif I'm talking about. Apparently tumblr can’t handle it 🤷‍♀️

So see you in part two!

Julian to Magnus

Hi Magnus,

So I know you told me only to get in touch for a “real emergency,” and I think you might have already left for vacation. But we’ve got some ghost trouble here at Chiswick House and we could use a little advice. Just in writing! No need to interrupt your time away! Unless, um, you think it really is an emergency.

Chiswick House is in awful shape in general, so it’s hard to know what’s a real problem and what’s just a hundred years of neglect. Other than one small area nobody’s touched the place since, it seems, the time of Tatiana Blackthorn.

We have some garden gnomes here doing the structural repairs and the big stuff, masonry and framing and so on. I mean, they’re not actually garden gnomes, I think they’re brownies, but they have the big pointy hats and the beards and everything. They’ve been moving pretty slowly, but recently Kieran was here and he had a talk with the foreman (this guy named Round Tom who is not even all that round) and since then things have sped up a lot. And there is a lot less complaining about the work conditions, and a lot less disappearing for the day if the tea runs out for more than five minutes. On the other hand, they’ve started leaving little offerings around intended for “the Un-Seel Laird,” which I gather is Kieran. Not anything Kieran would want, I don’t think. A lot of acorns and pretty rocks, mostly? And the occasional portrait of Kieran in chalk, which let me tell you, it’s a good thing they’re competent at construction because their portraiture could use some work. We’ve been keeping all the stuff in a box for him just in case.

I’m rambling, sorry. It’s just us rattling around in this giant ruin and all we want is for someone to listen to our dull stories about home renovation. But what I actually want to tell you about is the ghost.

I’m sure there are dozens of random spirits going back centuries that have some kind of faint presence in the house—Round Tom hinted as much to me—but there’s definitely some specific one that is actively haunting the place. We’ve had some poltergeist-y stuff. Mostly harmless pranks: vases overturned, drinks spilled, music faintly playing in the distance but originating from nowhere, weird hot spots, weird cold spots, doors slamming, doors closing very slowly on their own. To clarify, I do NOT mean poltergeist as in the movie Dru made me watch. No one has been sucked into evil dimensions or levitated (yet!). Still, it seems like we ought to try to get out ahead of this, so Emma and I have been trying to communicate with the presence directly. Whoever it is, they haven’t responded to us speaking to them, and it’s starting to feel silly to constantly talk in a friendly voice to nobody, like we have an imaginary friend. All that happens is the next morning someone has stacked all the gnomes’ hats into a hat tower and we have to convince the gnomes it wasn’t us.

Lest you think we haven’t tried smarter things than just yelling “Here ghostie ghostie ghostie,” Tiberius sent us a device he’s been working on, like a Sensor for ghosts. I spent some time walking the halls and eventually found a spot along some random corridor where the Sensor went crazy. I busted the wall open with a sledgehammer—somehow I feel like you would approve, although the gnomes did not—and behind the plaster, wedged between two of the beams, was a Ouija board that must go back to at least Tatiana’s time, if not before. There was no planchette, so we made our own out of scrap wood and furniture tacks. Maybe there was something bad about using that instead of something that went with the Ouija board, I don’t know how it works, but in any event, we tried the board and it went really badly.

We tried to do things officially—Emma and I waited until midnight, we got dressed up nicely, and we went down into the cellar. (There are a bunch of rooms down there that are highly spooky and look like they’ve been used for ghost-ish business in the past.) We extinguished witchlights (no electricity down there any more than it’s anywhere else), lit lots of candles. Ghosts love candles, right? We had a bolt of black silk to sit on that Emma found in a trunk somewhere, and we sat on either side of the board and both put our hands on the planchette.

Us: HELLO

Nothing.

Us: WEMEANNOHARM

The candles guttered, but most of the windows in the room are smashed, so with the usual draft from outside I’m not sure we can count that as a response.

Us: WHATISYOURNAME

We heard a scratching sound coming from one of the walls, and we opened up that wall in great excitement, but it turned out to be a badger. Actually, it was a mother badgers and some badger cubs, which was very cute until the mother starting trying to kill us. So we had to interrupt and go get the gnomes to help us and they relocated the badger family to a glade of some kind. (They also issued us a bill for “badger decampment.”)

This was all very disappointing. Emma said that maybe it was rude to ask for the ghost’s name before introducing ourselves.

Emma: MYNAMEISEMMACARSTAIRS

Me: ANDMYNAMEISJULIANBLACKTHORN

Well, that got a reaction. As soon as I finished the last “N” the board leapt off the ground and twisted violently around. The planchette went flying and Emma went to go retrieve it from the other end of the room, but then when she came back the board went flying around in the air and, I am sorry to say, we chased it around for probably two full minutes without catching it. Eventually the ghost got bored, I guess, and the Ouija board stopped in midair and shattered into pieces, which fell to the ground. And all the candles went out. (There were sixteen pieces, if that means anything. Emma says no, I said we should mention it anyway just in case.)

So…any advice? Too much ghostly energy for an old Ouija board? Defective board in the first place? Does the ghost want to be left alone? (If so, why does it keep knocking things over?) Did we offend it? There hasn’t been anything like that since, but exploding Ouija board seemed sufficiently threatening that I wanted to get in touch. What do you think is our next step?

Again, I’m really sorry to bother you, but your help would mean a lot to me. I really want to make Blackthorn Hall a place that the Blackthorns can use again, a place that will feel like a second home for all of us. And it would be nice if people in London associated the Blackthorns with a grand manor house rather than an infamous wreck. Which is not going to happen if visitors wake up with their hair tied to the bedposts, or have their suitcases upended on the staircase. In payment, we promise you as much babysitting as you like, whenever you need. Although maybe once we’re no longer living in a collapsing death-trap.

Much obliged—

Julian

Tags

sobh secrets of blackthorn hall

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iacuor

2 years ago

This explains why I can never explain the plot to anyone who hasn’t read the books…

Literally all of The Shadowhunter Chronicle romances are completely unhinged it’s not even funny (I lied, it’s very funny). Here’s just some examples:

William “Will” Herondale/James “Jem” Carstairs + Theresa “Tessa” Gray: It totally would have been a vee type polyamorous situation if it wasn’t for all the death and 1800s London society going on.

Henry Branwell + Charlotte Fairchild: How dare this misogynistic society put us together, I mean, we wanted to get together anyway, but not for those reasons. Welp, time to be as unconventional as possible.

Gabriel Lightwood + Cecily Herondale: Look, you made fun of my sister, it’s only fair that I marry your sister; that’s the rules.

Gideon Lightwood + Sophia “Sophie” Collins: Dad, I have a perfectly valid reason to betray you and go to the other side. What your doing is wrong and – nO tHiS haS nOThiNG to do wiTh tHeIR mAid wHy wOUlD yoU eVEn sAy tHat?

Jesse Blackthorn + Lucie Herondale: Your request to not be brought back to life has been denied, deal with it.

James “Jamie” Herondale + Cordelia Carstairs: He didn’t commit arson we were just having sex – why are you all looking at me like that’s worse?

Anna Lightwood + Ariadne Bridgestock: Listen, there’s a lot of society going on right now, so we’re going to have to get together in secret. Oh, you don’t want to? Okay, never mind, fuck society, let me win you back real quick.

Christopher Lightwood + Grace Cartwright: Oh good, you broke into my house, now we can talk about science.

Thomas Lightwood + Alastair Carstairs: I’d really like to hate you, but I think the biggest problem with that is that I love you. Once I get over that hurdle, I think we’ll be in the clear.

Lucian “Luke” Graymark + Jocelyn Fairchild: Good job on us for breaking away from the genocidal cult run by our best friend/husband; we should hook up, you know, as a reward.

Jonathan “Jace” Herondale + Clarissa “Clary” Fairchild: Ayo the same guy conducted experiments on our blood, that’s crazy; btw so glad we’re not actually siblings.

Alexander “Alec” Lightwood + Magnus Bane: Marrying each other is against the law? Okay, fine, I’m a law biding citizen. Oh oops, I made it legal. I am the law now, and I want a wedding on the beach.

Simon Lovelace + Isabelle Lightwood: It makes sense to have our engagement party on the day of my brother’s death, that’s when we really started bonding.

Helen “Alessa” Blackthorn + Aline Penhallow: Well, I guess we’re going to go in exile together. Yes, I said together; your exile is my exile, what’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine, that’s how relationships work.

Julian Blackthorn + Emma Carstairs: Yes, it’s a technical war crime to love each other, but the law itself is not really our main concern about it.

Kieran Hunter + Mark “Miach” Blackthorn + Cristina Rosales: We’re really living that cottage core aesthetic, and all we had to do to get here was do a small war and some amnesia. Worth it.

Gwyn ap Nudd + Diana Wrayburn: I’m going to stand by just in case something happens, but it probably won’t, she knows what she’s doing – WHY IS SHE JUMPING OUT THE TENTH STORY WINDOW OH MY GOD WAIT

Tiberius “Ty” Blackthorn + Christopher “Kit” Herondale: We take cosplaying Sherlock and Watson VERY seriously, so of course we needed to go to all the most illegal places, it’s only natural.

Ash Morgenstern + Drusilla “Dru” Blackthorn: So anyway I saw them in a sort of fever dream like state this one time and they’ve still been on my mind for years.

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iacuor

3 months ago

what is your eye color. what is your favorite color. what is the color that appears most frequently in your wardrobe. what color is your favorite blanket. what color is your water bottle.

Tags

blue purple Clear dark blue checkered in the colours of the lesbian flag

162K notes View Post

iacuor

3 years ago