#apparently they were really adamant about being a Proper Book Club at the beginning like they even had rules and stuff but | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

qfantasydragon · 5 years

Text

That Blessed Arrangment

Fair warning, this one is a bit long and a continuation of another post you can find here. I’ve also just gotten an AO3 account and have posted everything have so far (x).

Part Three

A quick miracle slipped the certificate past the clerk who otherwise might've objected to a witness signature that read "I am." Crowley tried to argue Aziraphale into keeping it and hanging it on a wall, but the angel was firm that the whole business be done properly.

"I, for one, do not want to run the risk that the whole thing fails to work because we didn't do one last step."

Crowley hissed but satisfied himself with a copy. More than once Aziraphale walked in on him holding it, staring at the signatures. The angel was never sure if it was God's or theirs that he was focusing on, but decided to leave the demon to his thoughts.

Miraculously, (Aziraphale protested that he had nothing to do with it. Crowley may have, but refused to admit to anything) both sides seemed to have missed that they had gotten married. Or at least, neither one was saying anything about it.

Crowley took hanging around the bookshop, Bentley parked haphazardly in the front. (The fact that it never received a ticket was, in fact, a demonic miracle, but neither of them thought much of it.) Plants began to take up residence in the windows and corners. The grad students who wandered in and out began to carry with them stories of a giant snake curled up in sunny spots, slithering along bookshelves, and more and more frequently, draped around the owner like a feather boa. The most famous of these stories was one in which two students were holding a conversation with the strange white-haired owner and the snake began to slide off the top of one of the shelves. Right on to the owner's shoulders. Who merely adjusted his stance to take the weight and kept talking.

Both swear they have no idea what was actually said as they watched in wide-eyed horror as the snake lazily coiled around his shoulders and gave the students an unblinking look with golden eyes before, for all intents and purposes, appearing to go to sleep. (Allegations that one of the students was attempting to flirt the owner out of a book have been furiously denied.)

Aziraphale and Crowley began to make plans to add another two floors to the store—the first would be a proper living space, with a bedroom, kitchen, and all the other rooms the average human had. The second would be a soundproofed greenhouse for Crowley to grow his plants in.

They both still caught glimpses of angels and demons out of the corner of their eyes, but as months passed and nothing happened, they both slowly relaxed. This was their normal now; easy going conversations, the gentle bickering that was a habit after six millennia, and a million new discoveries about each other now that they no longer had to pretend to be enemies. A beautiful normal.

Right up until it wasn't, of course.

The trouble started innocently enough. Anathema came by to chat and peruse the books, convincing Aziraphale to sell her one on the grounds that he had run off with The Prophecies of Agnes Nutter and returned it...toasted. As she was paying, she mentioned this nice little bakery Newt had taken her to for a date.

Apparently, it had amazing crepes.

Aziraphale barely had to turn to give Crowley his practically patented pleading look before the demon was asking if he'd like to go out tonight.

There wasn't a lot Crowley wouldn't do to make his angel smile like that. A drive of an hour to watch him eat was nothing.

So that evening they went out and got crepes, Aziraphale only slightly too dignified to bounce around excitedly as the server brought out plate after plate of thin pastries.

"Might as well make an evening of it," Crowly pointed out, so they spent the rest of the night cheerfully sampling the quality of alcohol the nearby restaurants and pubs had to offer. As the night wore down they washed up in a club where a group of drunk teens spotted their rings and cornered them into going on the floor for the couples dance, ignoring Aziraphale's protests of two left feet.

The place was slowly emptying as people trickled home, but the lights still flashed dimly and the music still played as Crowley and Aziraphale swayed gently on the floor, arms wrapped around each other. (If Anathema had been there at that moment, she would have seen two sets wings, one black, one white, wrapping around each other, shutting out the world.)

The song ended and they slowed to a stop.

"Ready to go home, my dear?" Aziraphale murmured to his husband. Crowley's arms tightened in a brief hug before releasing.

"Let's sober up first. Be silly to stop the apocalypse only to get discorporated in a crash."

Restaurants the next day wondered where the extra bottles of wine and brandy and whiskey had come from, but most of them shrugged and accepted it. A couple of the more enterprising employees decided that if the bottle were supposed to be gone, why, then it was their duty to make them gone.

It was with easy chatter about an exotic plant Crowley was considering, ah, acquiring, that they wandered back to the Bentley and worked their way down the deserted rural roads, the clock inching closer to dawn.

Something was on the road that had not been there a second earlier.

Crowley swerved wildly, sending the car into the ditch by the side of the road with the sound of cracking glass and screeching metal.

Firm hands dragged Crowley out and suddenly he was soaked with something made him tingle in a vague, unpleasant way. This what humans are talking about when they say pins and needles? he wondered blearily, ears ringing from the crash.

Aziraphale blinked and realized he was flat on his back on the road and—that was Michael staring down at him with a critical look on her face. He scrambled back and onto his feet in a rather undignified way.

"Michael! What are--"

"Holy water doesn't work. Even looking at it I still have trouble believing it." Aziraphale jerked his head around to see Sandalphon and Uriel gripping Crowley's arms as he staggered in place, disorientated. In front of him was Gabriel, sharply dressed as always, examining Crowley in the manner of a curious child studying an interesting bug.

"Aziraphale!" Gabriel glanced over at the angel with a grin that made him tense, "Didn't think we would leave you two alone forever did you?" His purple eyes caught on something, and he frowned. "What's that on your finger?"

"Looks like a wedding ring," Sandalphon provided, "Like humans get."

"I know that," Gabriel snapped, turning back, "But why--" he caught sight of Crowley's left hand.

"Well," Michael commented in the sudden silence, "I would like to say how unexpected, but it's really not."

"Do you really think," Gabriel snarled, "That the Almighty would recognize a union between a demon and an angel? How dare you profane matrimony like this!" Crowley laughed, sounding a little drunk.

"Oh, She recognized it mate. Her signature's on the paper and everything." He grinned wickedly at the archangel. "Believe me, I wasn't expecting it either."

"Gabriel," Aziraphale tried to cut in, Michael holding him back.

"That's it," the archangel bit out--

"I really don't think--"

"Holy water may not work--"

"Leave him--"

"So I guess we'll have to try other methods." Crowley's grin flickered and went out.

"Uhh. Today's not really a good day for me. Maybe next week?" Gabriel pulled a flaming sword into existence and Uriel and Sandalaphon took a step back to give him room to swing.

"First," he said tightly, "let's get rid of the body."

He swung.

There was a loud clang.

The world went perfectly, unbearably still.

To the east, the sky lightened.

It had been a long, long, time since two angelic swords crossed, but neither the earth nor the stars had ever forgotten. They were frozen, waiting to see what would happen.

Aziraphale stood in front of Crowley, his own sword blocking Gabriel's downswing, holding it effortlessly in midair. His head was bowed.

"Do you know," mused Aziraphale in a tone that Crowley didn't think he'd ever heard from the angel before, "That I gave my sword to Adam? The Adam from the Garden, I mean."

"What--" Gabriel started in an angry tone.

"He needed it, of course, just have been cast out and all, but that was only part of the reason," Aziraphale continued speaking in that soft, thoughtful voice that had everyone standing perfectly still. There was a pressure in the air, like a storm beginning to form.

"I hated the War you know. The first one. The demons had been our friends, our family, and yes they were arguing with Her, yes they were doubting. But are we not supposed to forgive? Are we not supposed to show mercy? Instead, there was blood and death and pain and then a third of us were simply gone, and the rest of us couldn't even remember their names. Their faces."

"Angelic swords," Aziraphale raised his head now, and his eyes were glowing and behind him wings were spreading and they had eyes of their own that were staring staring staring-- "Are made from the essence of the one who owns them. They are a part of our being. That part of me—that part of me that had fought, had led, had warred—I couldn't stand it. Couldn't stand the sight of it. So I took the first opportunity I had to give it away."

"Through all the centuries, through all the millennia, I couldn't have called it back to me if you asked. I didn't want it. After the first time, I never wanted to fight again." Aziraphale stepped closer to Gabriel and forced their swords higher.

There were six wings spread behind Aziraphale now, each feather with an eye that stared at one of the angels. The two set in his face where white and burning with fires that spilled over the edges like tears, but Aziraphale's face had never been so still. Around him reality was groaning as a shape, a form, an entity that was never meant to exist in this dimension churned around him.

There was a reason angel's first words were do not be afraid.

"I suppose I should congratulate you," Aziraphale breathed, "You've given me a reason to pick my sword back up. Isn't that what you wanted? For me to fight?" There was panic peeking around Gabriel's eyes, and it looked as though it was taking every inch of his power not to step back, to disengage, to run.

Dawn was breaking.

"Did you forget," Aziraphale breathed, "that I am the Principality of the Eastern Gate you fucking piece of shit?"

"I. Outrank. You."

Gabriel's own wings were out now, spread and fluffed out, a panic response as his arm trembled. At some point, their swords had switched positions so that he was blocking, trying desperately to keep Aziraphale's sword from slicing through him.

The shape that was never meant to exist in this plane of existence did the equivalent of baring its teeth and pretending it was a smile.

"Aziraphale," Crowley called from behind him. The Principality didn't turn around, but their attention shifted. Crowley's glasses had been damaged in the crash, and at some point they had fallen off. The demon was soaked, normally lively hair pressed flat against his head. Gently, he extended a hand, extended a piece of his own true nature, and pressed against his angel's back, where all the wings came out, in this dimension and in as many of the others as he could reach.

If Aziraphale was the heart of the sun rising in the east, Crowley was drifting nebulae in the emptiness of space, black holes singing the loss of all they had been.

"He's not worth it," he sighed to his spouse, "None of them are."

(Latef he would snort about it to himself. A demon counseling peace.)

Some of the tension went out of Aziraphale, and they refocused on Gabriel.

"And the Lord said to forgive seventy times seven," they told him quietly. "I have forgiven much of you Gabriel." Everyone's ears popped and suddenly it was just Aziraphale again. A little pudgy, a little short, a bookkeeper in London Soho.

But still he stared evenly at Gabriel and leaned in.

"If you ever try to interfere with us again, if you ever dare hurt him, I will rip your name from the Book of Truth myself and grind whatever remains of you after into dust. Do you understand?"

Gabriel nodded frantically, and Aziraphale disengaged with a slither of steel and a crackle-pop of fire.

Immediately Gabriel stumbled backward and there was a series of whoomphs as all the angels retreated back towards Heaven.

Aziraphale watched them go, face closed off. Crowley left him to his thoughts for a few minutes while he miracled the Bentley back onto the road and functional again. Then he meandered back, his sunrise shadow tangling with Aziraphale's.

"Ready to go home, angel?" Aziraphale blinked, long and slow and tired before nodding. Crowley gently guided him back into the car before clambering and driving off as the sun climbed into the sky.

They were silent the whole way back. A couple of times Crowley glanced worriedly over at Aziraphale who was staring quietly out the window. The sword was sheathed and leaning against his leg while he absent-mindedly traced designs on the pommel.

When they reached the bookshop Crowley parked with more care than usual. Aziraphale still seemed to be wrapped up in his own thoughts, moving slowly to get out of the car and unlock the door. The angel stood in the center of the room and looked so unbearably lost, sword clutched in one hand.

"What are you thinking?" Crowley asked softly, tilting Aziraphale's head up so that their eyes met. He hadn't put on another pair of sunglasses yet.

"I don't...I don't know." The angel forced a hand through his hair. "I'm thinking that it was nice to stretch my wings. I'm thinking that I picked up my sword and it felt good in my hands. I'm thinking that I'm horrified by how much I wanted to hurt Gabriel. I'm thinking that I would do it all again, do everything I threatened in a heartbeat if it meant...if it meant keeping you safe. I'm thinking that that should worry me, but it doesn't." Aziraphale looked back up at Crowley, and he looked so helpless that Crowley reached out and hugged him hard, chin resting on the top of his angel's head.

"Don't be horrified angel. You defended us. All the other angels—they're meant to be soldiers. Meant to start fights and end them. Meant for war. You though—well you said it. You're the guardian of the eastern gate. You're meant to defend what's already there, to protect new beginnings and fresh starts. That's what we are, isn't it? A new beginning."

"Besides, did you see the look on that wanker's face? I'm going to treasure that memory for the next century at least."

Aziraphale choked out a laugh against Crowley's chest and the demon smiled as the last of the angel's tension melted away.

"Thank you, my dear," he smiled as he stepped back. "You think that will keep them away for good?" Crowley snorted.

"Well we proved your marriage idea worked—I'm officially immune to holy water, and I'd guess the same goes for you and hellfire. So they're not sure how to kill us, and I'm pretty sure you scared them enough that they're not going to keep trying."

"Yes, I suppose you're right." Aziraphale seemed to be regaining his normal good cheer, even if there were still bags under his eyes.

"C'mon angel. Let's get you some sleep."

"But the bookshop..."

"I'll run it for you." His angel didn't like selling books, Crowley knew, but he also understood that right now Aziraphale wanted the anchor of his faux humanity, wanted to worry about mundane things like who would take care of his shop while he was resting. The angel gave him a grateful smile.

"That is very much appreciated, dear." Aziraphale turned to go off into the back rooms where he kept a bed when Crowley stopped him.

"Oh and angel?" Aziraphale looked back. Crowley grinned, wicked and delighted, "'Fucking piece of shit?’ Didn't know you had it in you." The angel blushed and stuttered.

"Well it seemed appropriate at the time--" Crowley laughed, open and free as the city woke up around them and sunlight poured like a blessing through the windows.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #Aziraphale swearing #aziraphale fighting #that blessed arrangment #aziraphale #aziracrow #crowley #crowley x aziraphale #archangels #principalities #post-apocalypse

428 notes · View notes

douxreviews · 5 years

Text

Legends of Tomorrow - ‘Egg MacGuffin’ Review

"I’m sorry that our first date got ruined by Nazis."

The Legends of Tomorrow episode title game is really on point this year.

Forgive me in advance if this is overexplaining, but I'm not entirely sure how well known the terms are and it's going to become relevant in a minute. If you already know the terminology better than I do, and I'm sure many of you do, I beg your indulgence.

A 'MacGuffin' is the term for a plot device that exists solely to provide motivation to the characters in a story. The example that's most often cited at this point is the titular Maltese falcon statue in The Maltese Falcon. This is a subtly different thing than 'phlebotinum,' which we discussed a few episodes back. Generally speaking, phlebotinum is a made up thing that facilitates the character's journey, for example, polyjuice potion. A MacGuffin is a made up thing that motivates the character to make the journey, for example the sorcerer's stone. Or philosopher's stone if you live in a country where the publisher wasn't afraid of accidentally teaching children the word 'philosopher.'

The real takeaway is that Legends of Tomorrow has now given me an excuse to explain both of those terms, and regularly allows me pretentiously discuss semiotics, and is therefore the best thing ever broadcast. But I digress.

The genius of this week's episode title is that the golden egg that Nate and Zari are looking for at the Adventurers Club is unequivocally a MacGuffin with no significance of its own beyond that (at least this week). In fact, part of the plot of that storyline explicitly involves Nate and Zari questioning exactly that point, and they come to the conclusion that it is a MacGuffin that Sara planted just to give them an exciting first date. Which is clever because it isn't a MacGuffin within the story we're watching, but it absolutely is a MacGuffin from the outside perspective, and you know it might actually be possible to be too clever about these things. Whatever your personal tolerance for post-modern narrative gameplaying, I really enjoyed it.

Now, in the past I've complained a bit here and there about the fact that the Legends' reduced number of episodes in a season often makes them condense what could be two or three episodes worth of plot into one. I'm not sure if I've just gotten used to it or if they're getting better at it, but I've really begun to enjoy the fast, breezy clip at which these episodes move. Nate and Zari are really just doing an extended Raiders of the Lost Ark homage, and a nice zippy pace is essential for that kind of romantic adventure fiction. The Ark of the Covenant itself, while we're speaking, is another classic example of a MacGuffin. I'm certain that was not coincidental.

In any case, I think I'm pretty well sold on the Zari and Nate romance, and I think it's down to one particular moment in this episode. When they realize that Sara has set them up on a romantic mission, Zari offers to call it a night and return to the ship, and Nate says, 'Or we could see where this mission takes us.' What he's clearly really saying is, 'Hey, I'm open to exploring whatever this is going on between us if you are, but there's no pressure.' I don't seem to go a week without mentioning how refreshingly adult the characters on this show are.

In fact, part of why the aforementioned fast and breezy pace felt so appropriate this week all around is because the show has romance stories on its mind. We have Sara and Ava, thankfully post-argument, making an effort for one another in the little ways. We have Mick and Charlie at Romanticon, attempting to cash in on Mick's authorial alter ego, Rebecca Silver, without actually having to reveal himself to his fans. Which is so completely on brand for both of them that I loved every second of it. God bless Mick, both for actually caring about his fans and for being willing to admit the fact when pressed.

Then finally we have my current relationship on the show, Ray and Nate. I realize I went on a bit about this last week, but I just can't say enough about how great their friendship is. Thank you, whoever on the writing team made the decision that Ray would give up his soul to Neron in order to save Nate's life, as opposed to Nora's. Neron said he would make Ray kill someone he loved in order to break him, and the show went with Nate as that person. Is it possible to platonically 'ship a couple? Because I am totally team Palmwood.

That was an unfortunate first attempt at a couple name. Please leave alternate suggestions in the comments.

Which leads me to the painful part. There were a number of little clues as to what was coming for Gary, but I really only noticed them in hindsight. When Sara is discussing who the murderer could be in book club, she mentions that it must be the dogwalker because of his pent up frustration and being treated like a doormat. The shot transitions from her to the next scene halfway through the line, which means we're hearing her but looking at Gary. The subplot about Vincent the Adventurer's assistant is basically a mirror of Gary's position. And Gary is clearly crying in the bathroom – a thing that he had just told us he often did – when Ray calls him and he drops everything to go help.

Gary Green, on paper, should not work as a character. He should come across as a caricatured doofus, occasionally good for a comic relief moment. But Adam Tsekhman invests him with something undefinable and real, and he just fundamentally works as a tragic figure despite all the reasons that he shouldn't.

Also, whoever planned out that Gary's nipple returning from Hell would be the final temptation that makes him give in to Neron is a mad genius and should be our leader now.

Everybody remember where we parked:

The Waverider did some proper time travel for the first time in what feels like ages and took most of the team to the Adventurers Club, 1933, in order to retrieve that golden egg. Mick and Charlie, meanwhile, take the jump ship to Romanticon, 2019. Gary uses his time courier to flit between 2019 and the Waverider, and Neron and minion-Gary appear to lift Damien Darhk's old time travel stone from Constantine and use it to leave for destinations unknown.

Remember when time travel seemed like an exclusive and exotic thing?

Quotes:

Sara: "Honestly, with Neron gone, catching fugitives has never been easier. I thought it was gonna take all week."

Zari: "It was that awkward, huh?" Sara: "Even the mummy thought it was awkward."

Nate: "Excuse me, my good man, could you point me to the nearest facilities? I have an urgent need to… uh... relieve my bowel."

Nate: "Wait. Trip wires. This is going to require one of us to squeeze through these trip wires, maneuvering our bodies in unexpected ways." Zari: "Are you asking me to do that?" Nate: "No, I’m asking you to hold my coat."

Ava: "Honestly, I usually just drink rose and let Mona go on and on."

Gary: "I may not be a master of the dark arts, but I am an intern of the dark arts."

Ava: "Were you guys about to hook up?" Zari: "No. no, no, no, no." Nate: "It was definitely on the table."

Bits and Pieces:

-- This show just doesn't do misunderstandings for dramatic effect. Nora immediately told John that Ray was possessed as soon as she woke up. Neron repeatedly goes out of his way to clarify that he's the one doing evil things, not Ray, even when it would really be in Neron's best interest to let the Legends think otherwise, thus driving them apart. That might be the thing I appreciate most about the writing.

-- It seemed odd at first that Mona didn't already know about Mick being Rebecca Silver, but on reflection it makes sense.

-- Loved the Garima cosplay at Romanticon.

-- How many books has Mick had time to write by this point? I mean, I suppose time travel would help with that, but I lost track of how many different titles they mentioned. I particularly liked Raw Hides.

-- Mick's final speech to the con about how all anybody really wants is to feel a connection was a lovely piece of writing, well performed. And a hell of a good underscoring to what was happening to Gary at that moment.

-- I get why they didn't do it, but it would have been smarter for Charlie to have shape shifted into a neutral third party to portray Rebecca. That said, I adored the Rita Skeeter vibe she had going on with her outfit.

-- Outside of the Rita Skeeter vibe, we also had phoenix feathers and a dragon egg. I'm sure there were a few other Harry Potter nods that I missed beside those. Anyone?

-- And speaking of the egg, it's a neat bit of long term plotting that what was just a MacGuffin this week is clearly set up at the end to be relevant to a different plotline later.

-- It's entirely in character for John Constantine to be rude and speak to Gary like that in a moment of stress, but the whole sequence of events felt sadder to me when I thought about the considerate way that he sheltered Gary's feelings last week.

-- I've noticed that they've gotten into the habit lately of consistently leaving someone on the Waverider to 'Quarterback' the mission. That's not only hugely useful for splitting up the characters and facilitating different schedules, it's also a really sound battle tactic.

-- Note added after the writing of this review. Apparently 'Egg MacGuffin' is the official name of this sort of thing as cited on tvtropes, and not an original pun coined by the writers here. Ah, well. Still a clever title for how it was used here.

I loved this episode from beginning to end. How can we only have three more left?

Three and a half out of four, and the only reason it's not higher is I suspect I'm going to need a higher number to go to in the next few episodes.

Feel free to mention your favorite MacGuffin in the comments.

Mikey Heinrich is, among other things, a freelance writer, volunteer firefighter, and roughly 78% water.

#Legends of Tomorrow #Sara Lance #Zari Tomaz #Nate Haywood #John Constantine #Ray Palmer #DC Comics #Arrowverse #Legends of Tomorrow Reviews #Doux Reviews #TV Reviews

16 notes · View notes