#;;that damned elusive pimpernel | {sir percy blakeney}

[youryurigoddess]

The stuff dreams are made of, or the interesting case of Anthony J. Crowley

We’ve talked a bit about Crowley’s trauma and his way of reclaiming the narrative in the past, but it’s time for some deep dive into the story he’s trying to tell. A story that meanders through the fabric of time and space, slightly changing with the human fashion trends, but slowly and surely bringing the demon closer to a certain angel like the red thread of fate.

1793

Some stories start in a garden, some even Before the Beginning, but this one starts with an Arrangement. Or, to be precise, a little bit after that.

See, most of the iterations of Crowley we saw throughout the history until then didn’t delve too deep into human cultural tropes. If anything, they were the inspirations behind more or less prominent biblical figures, maybe some nameless villains matching his demonic provenance and role assigned to him by his employers.

But in the hustle and bustle of the revolutionary Paris, Crowley emerges as a prototype of the Scarlet Pimpernel — a chivalrous Englishman who rescues aristocrats before they are sent to the guillotine. Stan Lee famously called him “the first character who could be called a superhero”.

Sir Percy Blakeney, the main character of the novel and the West End play under the same title, leads a double life. Appearing as nothing more than a wealthy fop, in reality he’s a formidable swordsman, a quick-thinking master of disguise and an escape artist. Even his own wife, Marguerite, has no idea.

Unfortunately Marguerite is being blackmailed with her brother’s life to find and expose the wanted Pimpernel. She regrets betraying her husband the moment she's forced to do it and spends the rest of the plot working to save him. She does, they make up, and return together to England.

In Aziraphale and Crowley’s case there was just a short stop for crêpes. But what seems to be an inspiration of a specific scene might as well come up later in the wider perspective of the show, so keep in mind those fragments of the musical’s libretto:

We all are caught in the middle

of one long treacherous riddle.

Can I trust you?

Should you trust me too?...

We shamble on through this hell

taking on more secrets to sell

'til there comes a day

when we sell our souls away.

We seek him here, we seek him there,

Those Frenchies seek him everywhere!

Is he in heaven? Is he in hell?

Where is that damn elusive Pimpernel!

1941

The London Blitz is when we see a full-fledged iteration of the superhero Crowley performing dashing and heroic deeds under the literal cover of darkness and air bomb smoke. In a bespoke double-breasted suit and a fedora — still free from the unfortunate modern connotations from the internet culture — he’s clearly channeling Humphrey Bogart as a private investigator Sam Spade in The Maltese Falcon (1941) now.

It all starts with a woman and a simple plan gone wrong: Spade’s partner is shot dead, just like the man he was supposed to be tailing upon the request of a mysterious Miss Wonderly. And when a very soft-looking, sweet-scented man named Joel Cairo appears in his office willing to pay a hefty price for a "black figure of a bird", Spade starts not only a new job, but also his own quest for truth.

On the surface, The Maltese Falcon ends happily: the killer gets caught, and the hero winds up with the Falcon. But Spade's victory is completely hollow. The Falcon itself, originally meant as a symbol of loyalty, transforms into a symbol of a corrupting, futile, and self-destructive greed that makes people betray their own loyalties.

The treasure is just a worthless forgery and he’s fallen in love with the criminal — one of the first femmes fatales on screen. Despite his feelings for her and a kiss, Spade gives her up and submits the statuette as evidence, describing it as "the stuff that dreams are made of".

Remember the eagle lectern? The eagle was believed to be flying highest in the sky and therefore closest to heaven, symbolizing the carrying of the word of God to the four corners of the world. Aziraphale in the 1941 church scene is the closest to Heaven we’ve seen him on Earth. Just look at him: dressed in a smart, well-fitted coat with peaked lapels, symbolizing his Heavenly allegiance, and doing good this time not as a work assignment, but of his own accord. Being the closest to Heaven means the furthest and most unattainable for a demon like Crowley.

The Maltese Falcon is a metaphor for unattainability — things out of reach to desire and fight for, although never truly possess. It’s “the stuff that dreams are made of”. But Crowley secured the original — made of gold and encrusted with jewels, but hiding its real value under black enamel — eerily reminiscent of the demon himself and the unending kindness behind his inappropriately tight black clothing.

Quoting Michael Ralph — the production mastermind behind Good Omens — from the S01E04 “Saturday Morning Funtime” DVD commentary, “We wanted to tip our hat to the Maltese Falcon as being a precious object that no-one thought really exists but it does”. So we can safely assume that Crowley can and will achieve his dream in the future.

1967

Do you know what else happens in 1941 in Scotland? Ian Fleming, a British naval intelligence agent, meets with the famous occultist Aleister Crowley and asks him to lead the interrogation of newly imprisoned Rudolf Hess — a leading member of the Nazi Party in Nazi Germany appointed Deputy Führer — given the two men’s shared enthusiasm for the occult.

This meeting has a significant impact on Fleming’s work as a writer; Aleister Crowley becomes the inspiration for his first villain Le Chiffre and creates a blueprint for most of the James Bond’s franchise ever since 1953, the publication date of the novel Casino Royale.

Meanwhile our Anthony J. Crowley believes in himself not being the villain he’s usually and sometimes forcefully painted as, but a superhero in disguise. The character of James Bond in particular inspires him so much that he buys petrol to get the limited You Only Live Twice (1967) window decals for his Bentley, dons his own tactical turtleneck, and sets off to organize a heist like no other. Sean Connery style.

Like a typical superhero, Crowley’s once again both saved and betrayed by his love interest. Aziraphale leaves him with a thermos of Holy Water, a faint smile, and a hope that they’ll soon match their speeds to meet halfway at the Ritz. The cancelled heist is not an ending, but a promise of a new beginning. And the fact that UK decriminalizes homosexual acts in the very same year is more than telling in this regard.

2019

An exceptional situation calls for exceptional solutions, and what’s more important than the impending Apocalypse? Demon Crowley does his best to put the arsenal of his 20th century film inspirations to good use.

"Ask yourself, do you feel lucky?" Crowley drawls, clearly imitating (although slightly misquoting) the titular Dirty Harry (1971). He’s hoping to be menacing and making the point of being the one on the right side of the law and history.

Some situations require more than quoting action heroes is not everything though. He knows what to do:

A jeep was heading purposefully towards the gate, and it looked as though it was crowded with people who were about to shout questions and fire guns and not worry about which order they did this in.

[Crowley] brightened up. This was more what you might call his area of competence.

He took his hands out of his pockets and he raised them like Bruce Lee and then he smiled like Lee Van Cleef.

'Ah,' he said, 'here comes transport.'

When in doubt, Crowley acts. He transforms into a combination of a stoic martial arts phenomenon and a sardonic, menacing character. His smile alone — even on Aziraphale’s angelic face, as seen in one of the final cut scenes — seems to be enough to ward off evil spirits, angels, and humans alike.

But we all know that even as breathtaking performances as those can’t protect anyone from the cogs of the Heavenly machine and its plans.

2023

No wonder that Crowley’s tactical turtleneck comes back in style after mere four years of retirement with a self-introduction “Former Demon, hated by Heaven, loathed by Hell. How will our hero cope?”. Something has changed during this time; he’s more mature now, not playing pretend by hiding behind the usual veneer of sarcasm and movie quotes anymore. Finally comfortable with the fact that this is his own story and there’s no need to become anyone else than himself.

The bookshop fire and the Heavenly trial still seem to haunt the demon in a way that makes him realize what all humans know: that every hero is his own biggest enemy. His ultimate dream might effortlessly change into his greatest nightmare any moment now, and the only thing he can do about it is hover in a two-minute distance from the epicenter of his feelings. But Crowley has no time to work on it when a new mission appears, to protect his angel from Gabriel and the combined powers of Heaven and Hell. Even if this — rather ostentatiously — is the last thing he wants to think about at the moment.

Crowley tries to plan ahead, while his story slowly warps into a different genre due to Aziraphale’s interruptions. He eventually changes back into his usual Henley shirt after agreeing to swap places and guarding the bookshop while the angel is off to Edinburgh, collecting more clues. Did he finish his personal quest off-screen? Did he just give up on it in the whirlwind of matchmaking shenanigans? Remains to be seen.

In the S2 finale our master of disguise in yet another turtleneck proves that he can successfully infiltrate even the universe’s back office. We don’t know where he drives off in the end, but one thing is certain — he’s got a plan. And a world (and his dream) to save, like a superhero he is.

[walkingshcdow-a]

@noblehcart | Starter Call | “Your Ex-Lover Is Dead” by Stars

“When there’s nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire,” Percy says sadly. He thinks of the burns he’s inflicted upon himself over the years to pay debts to the Courts - the taxes as the weather shifted, his duties to the mortal world which they shirked - but he thinks, too, of what little will be left of Liesel in time. Now she is beautiful and in the bloom of life. The Courts will sap her one day until there truly is nothing left to burn. Will she give them that satisfaction or will she understand that the world has moved on without her, but there is a place for her there? Can she possibly know that if she were to leave tomorrow, she would fall under his jurisdiction and Percy has learned lessons about kindness - or at least he thinks he has - that his cousin knows nothing of. 

[happycabbage]

In honor of Bastille Day, I am reminded of one Sir Percy Blakeney, Baronet. 

They seek him here. They seek him there. Those Frenchies seek him everywhere. Is he in Heaven? Or is he in Hell? That damned, elusive, pimpernel.

[vieforvivid]

This post does not have anything to do with work, and everything to do with my affinity and (slight) infatuation of The Scarlet Pimpernel 😁🎩🐎🌺

Taking a break to send a chuckling nod to our original action hero - one of my favorite fictional characters of all time, Sir Percy Blakeney. The plot unfolds during the French Revolution. It’s an infamous tale of the “elusive” Scarlet Pimpernel and his league of gentlemen, who vow to rescue people from the guillotine, overthrow the government, and restore the throne.

It’s an enthralling parable of the chivalrous master of disguise, who endeavors on a task of almost insurmountable odds. Sir Percy, a wealthy Englishman, portrays himself as a witless fop, and taunts his enemies by leaving behind a single signature of a scarlet pimpernel flower, after every conquest.

The novel is worth the read, and the movie is a must. Anthony Andrew’s plays his character hilariously! - “Sink me, your Highness. It was this damned cravat. Simply refused to tie...” - “This revolution of yours is monstrous intolerable.”

🎩 #TheScarletPimpernel by #BaronessOrczy (at London, United Kingdom)

[walkingshcdow-a]

@writedisaster | liked for a starter | Percy | I forgot the assignment a little bit. | “Moderation” by Florence + The Machhine

From the front row, he watches the Fae-touched woman consume things, disgusting things, for the amusement of circus patrons, and Percy thinks, not for the first time how glad he is to have unshackled himself from the Courts. 

He wonders if she can feel his silver eyes on her as she performs, burning through his human disguise. He wonders if she can sense it - smell it, perhaps? - the stash of honeyed cakes he’s tucked into his jacket.

He’s come for her, to help her in the same way any dealer might, any enabler might. 

It’s that time of year - the spirit of giving. 

He finds her in the ramshackle dressing room after the show and he smiles like sunlight on this blustery, autumn day. He offers her wine from his flask and the cakes from his pocket and does not eat, but watches her quietly, a little sadly.

“You wouldn’t want it if you knew what it was,” he tells her as she asks where he came across such things. She is of his domain now. The Leader of the Wild Hunt cares for those who have fallen between the cracks of the Fae Realm and the Mortal Plane and Janet is just one of many Percy must visit this time of year. Unlike his cousins at Court, he does not ask payment. He’s come to understand something of mercy in all his years. 

He wishes it was enough. 

[walkingshcdow-a]

“Did they just forget to heat the dance hall, or were they expecting us to wear our coats all night?” (liese @ faepercy)

"They don't feel the cold," Percy said, gazing at the revelers. "The Fair Folk are nothing if not a part of nature. Neither chill nor heat disturbs them."

He still wore his fur cloak and, in fact, tugged it closer. He'd once been a cold gem like his cousin. Sometimes, you traded a little power for a little freedom.

"Come with me, m'dear," Percy said, offering his hand to her. "I shall make you a dancefloor of midafternoon sun. We won't be missed."

[walkingshcdow-a]

"What happens depends on what you do." Polly to Percy

"Well, sink me, isn't that clever!" he says proudly, admiring Polly's handiwork with the new, interactive mall maps. "Why, you could keep a mortal trapped in a loop for centuries! You're truly growing into such a clever lady. I trust you've put appropriate temptations for them along the way... I noticed that new cinnamon-scented kiosk on my way in. Did you have anything to do with that?"

He doesn't generally condone tormenting mortals - at least not for more than a joke. Somehow, he thinks Polly is after his own heart. The leader of the Wild Hunt looks at his niece curiously and wonders what it is that she will decide to become on this mortal plane. So much human lore about their people is wrapped in good and evil, but Percy has always firmly believed they were capable of so much more than either. He looked from the neon colors and moving images to Polly with a little half-smile.

[walkingshcdow-a]

@noblehcart

for the first time in what seemed like weeks- she laughed.

for the first time she startled at the sound, almost glancing around to be sure it actually came from her before focusing again on the leader of the League. fingers pressed to her lips for a moment to hide the smile that seemed to have lingered longer than she had intended. she always tried to remain poised and collected around the other court members, but somehow he managed to draw it out.

"i wouldn't define wine as an unusual pleasure, your highness. " her tone light and amused as she glanced away for a moment to look over the ball of mingling courts and dancers. soft dark eyes lifted to look back up to the fae company beside her and she felt ever so out of place. fingers brushed over her bracelet trying to find some means of controlling her nervousness. the fear of saying something wrong. doing the wrong thing.

or worse wanting the wrong things.

the wine glass in his hand looked refreshing. the food left out sent her stomach into knots in protest of the simple berries she had managed to find on her own. the fae were a complex race with complex rules and unfair play. and as much as she wanted to join in on the revelry she felt all the more aware of her humanness even though she saw across the room how naturally stefan seemed to fit beside the unseelie king.

"but i suppose it depends on what you'd define as unusual." she offered shyly before looking down to her bracelet once more before adding in a quiet laugh. "nevertheless, i think you're forgiven."

He hadn’t meant the wine. Instead, eyeing her lips, Percy wondered what might happen if he kissed her. His own wine lingered sweetly in his mouth, though, and he thought that if he kissed Liesel, he might accidentally bind her to something - to himself, if he was lucky; to the Unseelie Court if he was not. He shook his head. 

“Let me be more frank,” Percy said, voice quiet. “You’ve neither eaten nor drank since the banquet began and I’d wager you’re not eating or drinking much, the way that bracelet is hanging off your wrist. I’d hate to see you languish here as your brother thrives. The Unseelie Court is devilishly good at wasting its inhabitants away.”

He’d been king once. He’d left before it could eat at his soul. Swishing his wine around, he looked contemplative in a way he didn’t often look, but then the look vanished. Liesel didn’t need to know about that. He smiled at her, cocking his head. 

“I thought it was frightfully rude in human culture to eat while another is starving. Do correct me if I’m wrong.”

[walkingshcdow-a]

Finnegan and Percy

Incorrect Quotes | Accepting

Finnegan: Where are you going? Percy: To get ice cream or commit a felony, I’ll decide on the way there

[walkingshcdow-a]

💋 percyliese?

SEND 💋 FOR A SURPRISE KISS FROM MY MUSE

He kisses her hand on a crowded ballroom floor, bending at the waist in a way no respectable fae would bow to a human girl. He smiles and then without preamble, sweeps her into the night's dark waltz. This is is how it is at the Unseelie galas. Sir Percy is there with a kiss for her hand and an offer to dance her around the ballroom floor, grand as any Fae lady and lord.

He kisses her forehead the night he spirits her away from the Unseelie Court and she falls asleep against his shoulder as he spurs his carriage on into the night wind. It feels like a night breeze against her skin and perhaps she does not notice it.

He kisses her on the lips, though, as he rushes across a battlefield towards her, weapon gleaming at his side with silver and blood and he barely sheaths it before sweeping Liesel into his arms and kissing her hard, deeply, passionately, the way she has been promised by the Fae, the way she thought no one ever might. He tastes of blood and sweat and magic, the way a hero should.

It's not a surprise kiss if she has been watching but when they pull apart, it's clear that somehow, it has surprised Percy, who has said before that he never planned to fall in love again.

Maybe he has after all.

[walkingshcdow-a]

"What is the skill in this particular situation that you think I could bring to help you with this predicament?" @ Percy, please?

Percy is silent for a long moment. Between them, the supernatural rifle lays on the table and Percy's hands are behind his back. He pulls a face and then unfurls his hands before her. They blister with burns and even the air touching them makes him want to cry out in agony.

"Take the gun, Miss Beckam," he says. The cheerful affect is sapped from his voice. He does not sound unfriendly, not at all, only tired and pained and like Atlas offering a small ocean for someone else to hold. "That sort of innovation deserves to be studied but I very clearly cannot do it."

He very clearly also needs a doctor, but that is beside the point. Even now, he's trying not to owe Jane Beckam any favors; he knows she will call them in too wisely.

[walkingshcdow-a]

It’s Pastel Rogue Day! Mutuals like this for a Percy starter - especially things dealing with my “Fae-U” or D&D!

[walkingshcdow-a]

Do you like spies? How about revolutions? Adventure? A sharp dressed man?

Look no further!

Just click the heart for a starter with Sir Percy Blakeney! I can do canon (1790s) or modern easily and am willing to plot for other eras! Lmk what era works for you! Cheers!

[walkingshcdow-a]

Permanent Starter Call: Sir Percy Blakeney

MUTUALS LIKE OR REBLOG this post if you are always down to plot or to receive a starter or ask from Sir Percy Blakeney (aka The Scarlet Pimpernel) from “The Scarlet Pimpernel”. All my muses are flexible enough to have myriad AUs.

This is a permanent starter/plotting call. The purpose of this post is to gauge interest for the future. Non-Mutuals and Non-RPers do not interact!

[walkingshcdow-a]

And then there’s the crack I promised @personnages & @professor-of-predators. 

[walkingshcdow-a]

Me: Orczy calls Percy "soft" to describe his character shift-

Marty: Idk, man, maybe he just moisturizes.