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eastendblinds · 3 months ago

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Smart Blinds: The Future of Window Treatments for Southampton Homes and Offices

As technology continues to evolve, it’s reshaping every aspect of our lives, including how we manage our homes and offices. One of the most exciting innovations in this space is the advent of smart blinds. These automated, high-tech window treatments are quickly becoming a popular choice for Southampton residents who want to combine convenience, energy efficiency, and modern style. In this blog post, we'll explore how smart blinds are transforming the landscape of window treatments and why they represent the future for both residential and commercial spaces.

What Are Smart Blinds?

Smart blinds are window treatments that can be controlled remotely or automatically through a smartphone app, voice commands, or a home automation system. Unlike traditional blinds, which require manual operation, smart blinds offer a seamless and intuitive way to manage natural light, privacy, and even energy usage in your home or office.

These blinds can be scheduled to open and close at specific times of the day, react to changing light conditions, or integrate with other smart home devices for a fully automated experience. The ability to control your window treatments from anywhere, at any time, makes smart blinds a revolutionary option for modern living and working environments.

The Advantages of Smart Blinds

Smart blinds offer numerous benefits that make them a worthwhile investment for both homes and offices in Southampton. Here are some of the key advantages:

1. Convenience and Ease of Use

One of the most significant benefits of smart blinds is the convenience they offer. With just a tap on your smartphone or a simple voice command, you can adjust your blinds without having to leave your seat. This is particularly useful for hard-to-reach windows or for controlling multiple blinds simultaneously. For homeowners and businesses in Southampton, where time is often a valuable commodity, this convenience can greatly enhance daily life.

2. Energy Efficiency

Smart blinds can be programmed to optimize energy usage by automatically adjusting based on the time of day, sunlight intensity, or even the temperature inside the room. For instance, during hot summer days, your blinds can close automatically to block out the sun and reduce cooling costs. In the winter, they can open during the day to let in sunlight and help warm up your space.

This level of control can lead to significant energy savings, making smart blinds an eco-friendly choice. Southampton homes and offices that prioritize sustainability will find smart blinds an excellent addition to their energy-saving strategies.

3. Enhanced Security

Smart blinds can also enhance the security of your home or office. By programming your blinds to open and close at different times of the day, you can create the illusion that someone is always home, even when you’re away. This can deter potential intruders who might be watching for signs of an empty house or office.

Additionally, when integrated with a full home automation system, smart blinds can work alongside security cameras, alarms, and smart lights to provide a comprehensive security solution. For Southampton residents who travel frequently or spend long hours away from home, this added layer of security can provide peace of mind.

4. Improved Aesthetics and Comfort

Smart blinds come in a wide range of styles, materials, and colors, allowing you to choose window treatments that perfectly complement your décor. Whether you prefer the sleek look of roller blinds, the classic appeal of wooden blinds, or the modern elegance of fabric shades, smart blinds can be customized to match your aesthetic preferences.

In addition to looking great, smart blinds can also enhance comfort by allowing you to control natural light and glare with precision. This is particularly beneficial in office settings, where managing light can reduce eye strain and improve productivity.

5. Integration with Smart Home Systems

For those who have already embraced smart home technology, smart blinds are a natural extension of your existing setup. They can be easily integrated with popular smart home platforms like Amazon Alexa, Google Home, and Apple HomeKit, allowing you to control them using the same system that manages your lights, thermostat, and security devices.

This integration makes it easy to create custom scenes and routines. For example, you can set your blinds to open gradually in the morning as your alarm goes off, or to close automatically when you start a movie for a more immersive experience. The possibilities are endless, and the ability to control all aspects of your home from a single interface is incredibly appealing.

Why Southampton Homes and Offices Should Consider Smart Blinds

Southampton is a place where modern living meets timeless elegance. The homes and offices in this area often feature beautiful architecture and high-end design, making smart blinds a perfect fit for those who want to enhance their spaces with the latest technology. Here’s why Southampton residents should consider upgrading to smart blinds:

1. Tailored Solutions for Every Space

Every home and office in Southampton is unique, and smart blinds offer the customization needed to match this individuality. By working with a local blinds shop, you can choose from a wide range of materials, colors, and styles to create window treatments that are perfectly tailored to your space. Whether you need blinds for a large bay window in a historic home or for a modern office building, smart blinds provide a bespoke solution.

2. Professional Blind Installation

For optimal performance and longevity, professional installation is key. Blinds installers in Southampton have the expertise to ensure your smart blinds are installed correctly and integrated seamlessly with your smart home system. Proper installation also guarantees that your blinds will function smoothly and efficiently, providing the full range of benefits they’re designed to offer.

3. Future-Proofing Your Property

Investing in smart blinds is a way to future-proof your home or office. As smart technology continues to advance, having smart blinds already in place makes it easier to integrate new devices and systems down the road. This not only enhances your property’s value but also ensures that your space remains at the cutting edge of convenience and innovation.

How to Get Started with Smart Blinds in Southampton

If you’re ready to explore the benefits of smart blinds, the first step is to visit a local blinds shop that specializes in custom window treatments. A consultation with a professional can help you determine the best type of smart blinds for your needs, taking into account factors like window size, room function, and aesthetic preferences.

Once you’ve selected your blinds, professional installers will handle the setup, ensuring everything is configured correctly and ready for use. From there, you can start enjoying the many advantages of smart blinds, from increased convenience and energy savings to enhanced security and comfort.

Commercial & Residential Blinds - East End Blinds

Smart blinds represent the future of window treatments, offering a level of convenience, efficiency, and style that traditional blinds simply can’t match. For Southampton homes and offices, investing in smart blinds is a way to embrace modern technology while enhancing the beauty and functionality of your space. With the help of a trusted blinds shop and professional installers, you can transform your windows into smart, stylish features that make everyday life easier and more enjoyable.

Commercial & Residential Blinds - East End Blinds

251 Majors Path, Southampton, NY 11968, United States

Phone Number: 1-631-869-7033

https://eastendblinds.com/southampton-ny/

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venkat3681 · 4 months ago

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23739606 · 5 months ago

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Start of week 3

Today was off to a slow start, but I learned a lot and got a lot done!

But first -- last week, Beth, Matthew, and I went to the Fab Cafe Bar in town for a celebratory drink as they have finished their placements! I'm counting this as part of my placement because we talked about personal, fun things as well as subjects related to the library, our course, and our placement. Matthew reminded me that we briefly talked about e-space during our course, but we agree that there should be a much bigger focus on our university's institutional repository, especially in the Library and Information Management MA course. Beth said she would give me her thoughts on e-space as a visually impaired individual, or as she puts it, "just f*ing blind." Hopefully (most definitely) she can praise or criticise some elements of the site that I had not considered as a mostly able-bodied person.

I started making my Powerpoint for my presentation next week. I've got all my slides laid out and organised, and now I am filling them in with content. I'm honestly so excited to do this presentation because it will be about something I'm passionate about and not just something for a grade. I've definitely developed a passion for Open Research and an eye for spotting accessibility issues with help from my WAVE evaluation tool. I know I will be helping the library and possibly make a difference to e-space users that have found difficulty with the site in the ways I have previously mentioned.

I want to provide the OR team with realistic suggestions for changing the site in small ways that will make the research outputs of MMU truly available to everyone. I am going to split up my suggestions by what I think are the most critically necessary updates, then what changes I think would be easy to implement, then additional changes that might be more difficult to put into place but would still greatly improve the site's accessibility.

I'm also going to highlight aspects of the site that improve its accessibility that I've noticed some other IRs are lacking. I will also outline how the OR team supports the research lifecycle and research data lifecycle using links from the Uni of Southampton.

I also went to Georgina and Andrew's Open Access presentation on Teams and learned more about the repository from a researcher point of view, which was very interesting. I just think it's wonderful that the uni and so many other institutions are working on making all this publicly-funded research available to everyone, truly, because that's how it should have always been! I got some good links to other IRs that I might check out when I am doing my literature review for my dissertation. I also learned about the different types of Creative Commons license, which I never knew about. This meeting also gave me more to talk about for my presentation when I go over all the ways the OR team supports researchers.

That's all for now. I've got a busy week up ahead, but I don't think my presentation will take that much longer, so I can really enjoy the shadowing and tours and conversations with people from different departments.

#week 3

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back-and-totheleft · 1 year ago

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“Come on, that’s such a canard, you know that,” Oliver Stone said. “ ‘The Greatest Generation?’ That was the biggest publishing hoax of all. It’s to sell books.” This seemingly sacrosanct term was coined by Tom Brokaw for his 1998 book of the same title, in which he recounted the lives of ordinary, World War II-era Americans. “I was in Vietnam with the Greatest Generation. They were master sergeants, generals, colonels. They had arrogance beyond belief. The hubris that allowed Henry Kissinger to say North Vietnam is a fourth-rate power we will break. The hubris of that!”

We were discussing Stone’s latest project, a 10-part Showtime series and a 750-page companion volume called “The Untold History of the United States,” which begins with World War I and ends with the first Obama administration. It’s an Oliver Stone version of a History Channel documentary, one guaranteed to raise the ires of both left and right and where all roads lead to Vietnam. From where Stone sits, World War II begot the cold war, which landed us in Vietnam, a manifestation of American imperialism, which led inexorably to our current battle in Afghanistan. We have, Stone says, been sold a fairy tale masquerading as history, and it is so blinding it may ultimately undo us. “You have to understand what it was like to be a Roman empire and to find some barbarian tribe riding into Rome in 476 A.D.,” Stone said. “It’s quite a shock. And that’s what will happen to us unless we change our attitude about what our role in the world is. Every story out of most newspapers is ‘the Americans think this, the administration thinks this.’ It’s always about our controlling the pieces on the chessboard. I think what the Arabs have shown us is that we don’t control the chess pieces. And this is a shock to many people. But it’s definitely in ‘The Greatest Generation.’ And it’s in Spielberg’s World War II film, and it’s in Ridley Scott’s ‘Black Hawk Down.’ These are wonderful-looking films, but the message is perverted.”

It was a late September morning, and Stone was sitting on the terrace of his hotel suite in San Sebastián, Spain, where his latest film, “Savages,” was being screened as part of the city’s 60-year-old film festival. The sun was peeking through some late-morning clouds, glinting off the river below, and Stone shielded his eyes with a pair of sunglasses that could have been part of Kevin Costner’s wardrobe in “JFK.” At a news conference he gave the day before, he suggested that the former Spanish president José María Aznar should be tried at The Hague on war-crimes charges for his participation in Bush’s Coalition of the Willing during the Iraq War. The remark presumably only enhanced his status in San Sebastián, where he was presented with the Donostia, the festival’s lifetime achievement award. Before the premiere of “Savages,” Stone walked the red carpet with John Travolta and Benicio Del Toro, waiting, a bit impatiently, as Travolta, Bill Clinton-like, shook the hand of every fan reaching out to him from behind the barriers, kissed old ladies and posed for innumerable cellphone pictures; Stone shook some hands, too, but demurred when asked to kiss a small dog. “Allergies,” he explained, pointing to his nose.

“Savages,” based on a popular 2010 novel by Don Winslow about a couple of boutique marijuana growers who are drawn into battle with a brutal Mexican drug cartel, covers terrain that is near to Stone’s heart. To promote the film, he appeared on the cover of High Times, puffing on a thick joint. I mentioned to Stone that the reporter who interviewed him for Playboy in 1987 later wrote that the drunkest he’d ever gotten was with Stone, in Southampton, where Stone was filming the beach house scene in “Wall Street.” The reporter remembers several bottles of bourbon, and then little else until he woke the next morning, soaking wet. He’d passed out on the hotel lawn and was roused when the sprinklers started up. Stone chuckled. “That is funny,” he said. “Because we’ve all had moments on lawns where we passed out. One time I was in the Bel-Air Hotel. I woke up in the bushes, and I couldn’t find my way back. And my new wife was waiting. It was kind of a honeymoon. I remember stumbling in and her face when she saw me.” Was the look on her face one of horror? I asked. “Well, it was like she was in for something with the marriage here,” he said. This was his first wife, Najwa Sarkis, he clarified (he has been married to Sun-jung Jung, his third wife, since 1996).

But Stone isn’t a kid anymore. He’s 66, sometimes wears hearing aids and can’t shake off hangovers the way he used to. (“Two vodkas or two tequilas and a few glasses of wine, that’s the edge for me,” he said.) It has been more than 25 years since his greatest critical and commercial success, “Platoon,” an autobiographical retelling of his Vietnam experience, which won best director and best picture and harvested almost $150 million at the domestic box office. And now he’s at the age where he’s considering his legacy. “A lot of people when they get older they write autobiographies or memoirs,” he said. “But my priority would be to ask, What did the times I lived through mean? And did I understand them?”

Stone modeled his new series on the landmark 1973-74 ITV series “The World at War,” which, at 26 episodes, is considered as exhaustive and authoritative a study of World War II as could be offered on television. Stone’s “Untold History” jams almost 75 years of American history into just 10 hours, so that may kill the exhaustive angle, but Stone is certainly hoping for the authoritative bit. “This,” he pronounced, “is truly the meaning of these events.”

Spend any time with Stone, and you’ll soon discover that he lacks what you might call the deliberation gene, whatever prevents us from saying things that will get us in trouble, lose us friendships, even jobs. Years ago, a producer on “Nixon” related that when he first introduced Stone to his mother, Stone declared, “You look Chinese.” (She was not.) At dinner, I watched Stone jokingly tell two female Spanish film executives that he missed the days when attractive Spanish women, with little economic opportunity at home, served as maids in wealthy French households. The day we met, I mentioned that my family would be leaving Brooklyn for Connecticut, where we don’t know a soul. “But, really, what’s the worst thing that could happen?” I said, offering the kind of throwaway phrase used to move from one topic to the next. Well, Stone postulated, quite earnestly, you could end up going through an acrimonious divorce and then be forced to wage an expensive battle over custody of your children.

Stone often comes to understand, too late, the consequences of his words. In Spain, he talked openly about the furor that ensued when, in 2010, a British journalist asked him why people were so fixated on memorializing the Holocaust, considering, as he told her, that “Hitler did far more damage to the Russians” than he did to the Jews and that the Russians lost “25, 30 million” in the war. It was, Stone claimed, because of what he called “the Jewish domination of the media” and Israel’s “powerful lobby in Washington.” As TheWrap.com reported, this did not go over well with some in Hollywood, notably with the entertainment magnate Haim Saban, a prominent supporter of the American Israel Public Affairs Committee, who personally lobbied the president of CBS, Leslie Moonves, to kill the series on Showtime (owned by CBS). Soon after, Stone apologized to the Anti-Defamation League, retracting his claim that Israel and the pro-Israel lobby were to blame for America’s “flawed foreign policy.” “Of course that’s not true, and I apologize that my inappropriately glib remark has played into that negative stereotype,” his statement read. In Spain, I asked if he stood by this abject apology. “I don’t know about the word ‘abject,’ ” he said. “I did use the wrong word, and I had to apologize because I should not have used the word ‘Jewish.’ That was the only thing that’s frankly wrong in that statement. I was upset at the time about Israel and their control, their seeming control over American foreign policy. It’s clear that Jews do not dominate the media. Rupert Murdoch, Clear Channel, Christians dominate much of the right wing. But certainly Aipac has an undue influence. They were very much militating for the war in Iraq. They got it.”

A few days after returning from Europe, Stone sent me a long e-mail, clarifying a few of the more inflammatory things he’d said. He also requested that I not call CBS to inquire about the seeming retraction of his retraction, concerned that Showtime might flinch and pull his as-yet unbroadcast “Untold History” series. “Feel free to write about it, but why go now and wave a red flag in front of bulls?” he wrote. It had happened before. In 2003, HBO was set to broadcast his first Fidel Castro documentary, “Comandante,” in which Stone showed the Cuban leader speed-walking around his office, mooning over Brigitte Bardot and basking in the love of ebullient Cubans. When Castro executed three hijackers of a ferry to the United States and imprisoned more than 70 political dissidents, HBO pulled the program two weeks before airtime. “I was heartbroken,” Stone said.

Considering his occasional disregard of others’ feelings, Stone is surprisingly sensitive about his work. “He’s always experienced self-doubt because he’s so often trying to break the rules,” says Edward R. Pressman, who produced four of Stone’s movies, including “Wall Street.” In Spain, Stone mentioned “Heaven and Earth” (1993), his third film about Vietnam, which, I admitted, I hadn’t seen. “No one has seen it,” he lamented. “It was my biggest financial failure. But I don’t regret it. It was an amazingly beautiful movie, and I hope you see it one day.” Sure I would, I told him. “Will you?” he said.

When I returned home, I received a package from Stone’s Ixtlan production company that, in addition to “Heaven and Earth,” included his three Castro documentaries, as well as a 3-hour-34-minute version of his epic “Alexander.” He can’t stand the 2-hour-55-minute theatrical edit he made for Warner Brothers. “It was really a two-part roadshow movie,” he said. “If I had had the confidence I would have made it that.”

A few weeks later, he looked genuinely pained when I needled him about the Connecticut divorce comment he made in Spain. When he met my wife, he took her hands in his and told her, apologetically, “I love Connecticut.”

Last month, on the afternoon before the premiere of three episodes of “Untold History” at the New York Film Festival, Stone and Peter Kuznick were bickering in a conference room at Stone’s publicity firm. Kuznick is the history professor at the American University in Washington who helped write the Showtime series and, even Stone admits, most of the book. At 64, Kuznick is Stone’s contemporary, and the two men in their identical outfits of black jackets and pressed blue oxford shirts might suggest some sort of cosmic parity if their personal backgrounds weren’t so dissimilar. Whereas Kuznick was raised by left-leaning, politically active Jews and joined the N.A.A.C.P. at age 12, Stone’s political evolution has been a gradual but radical departure from his upbringing in the Upper East Side household of Louis Stone, a stockbroker and Eisenhower Republican, who instilled in his son an almost-paralyzing fear of Russia’s global military and economic ascendancy. “I remember crying, practically, and saying why aren’t we doing anything?” Stone said. He infuriated his father by dropping out of Yale after his first year (George W. Bush was in his freshman class) and later joined the Army and served in the infantry in Vietnam. Not long before enlisting, he tried, unsuccessfully, to sell a novel, an event he has said left him in a suicidal mood. He wanted to make his military experience as difficult as possible. “I insisted on the infantry, and I insisted on Vietnam because I didn’t want to end up going to Germany,” he said. “And I got that, which was good for me, because it woke me up.”

In a very small way, the challenges of objectively documenting history are made manifest when you ask Stone and Kuznick how they came to work together on “Untold History.” Kuznick was a huge Oliver Stone fan, so much so that in 1996, he started teaching a course called Oliver Stone’s America, which attracted, in its very first year, a visit from the only guy he considered an indispensable guest lecturer. Over dinner that evening, Kuznick regaled him with his take on Henry Wallace, vice president during F.D.R.’s third term, whom Kuznick considers a brilliant progressive and an unsung hero. During the 1944 Democratic convention, thanks to some conservative power players, Wallace, instead of being renominated for vice president, was at the last moment tossed aside for Harry Truman, a senator of limited experience who was only briefed that the United States was building the atomic bomb after Roosevelt died. If Wallace rather than Truman had become president, Kuznick told Stone, the United States might not have dropped atomic bombs on Japan, and the cold war might never have started.

Stone commissioned Kuznick to write a treatment. Kuznick, convinced that he’d been ushered into the movie business, got himself a William Morris agent, who lobbied for Kuznick to write the script. But the screenplay suffered the same fate as several of Stone’s pet projects — the C.I.A.-hunting-Bin-Laden project, the Manuel Noriega project, the My Lai project. That is, it died. And this is where Kuznick and Stone’s versions of history diverge.

Stone: “It was a great idea. I’d never heard the story, and I wanted to do a ’40s kind of movie. It was perfect. And he [expletive] up the screenplay.”

Kuznick: “Don’t believe that, because Oliver told a mutual friend of ours who told me, ‘Oliver said it’s a work of genius, I’m dying to make it.’ ” Stone: “Nooo!”

Kuznick: “Well, you did. You forgot.”

A decade later, Stone told Kuznick he wanted his help on a 90-minute documentary about Wallace, Truman and the birth of the atom bomb. Soon after, the 90-minute documentary morphed, Kuznick was never sure how, into a 10-hour Showtime series that he was on the hook to write and research. Both men make the four years it took to put together the series sound about as much fun as the siege of Leningrad. Stone missed his deadline by two full years, and his foreign distributor almost ditched the project. It was one of the many bumps that didn’t go unfelt by Kuznick. “Oliver is always good about sharing the pressure,” Kuznick told me. “Whatever pressure Oliver is feeling, I would get a double dose of.” As we talked, Kuznick’s cellphone rang. It was Stone, who was about to be interviewed for the Carson Daly show and needed stats on how much the United States committed to pay the U.S.S.R. in reparations after World War II, and how much, per year, the United States spends in Afghanistan per Al Qaeda member who actually resides in Afghanistan.

Kuznick is not the first expert Stone has relied on in making his films. “JFK” was based on “On the Trail of the Assassins,” by Jim Garrison, a former Orleans Parish district attorney who, in 1969, unsuccessfully prosecuted Clay Shaw, a New Orleans businessman, for conspiring to kill the president. Kevin Costner played Garrison as an Atticus Finch type fighting an ingrained power structure, though Garrison is dismissed by many mainstream historians as a con man. In researching “JFK,” Stone also relied on L. Fletcher Prouty, a former Air Force colonel who, before becoming disillusioned with government, was chief of special operations for the Joint Chiefs of Staff during the Kennedy administration. Prouty never actually met Garrison except in Stone’s film, where he is Donald Sutherland’s Colonel X, who lays it all out for the D.A. in the shadow of the Washington Monument — how the military deliberately underprotected the president in Dallas, how defense contractors, big oil and bankers conspired with the military to make sure the president died because he didn’t intend to go to war in Vietnam. Costner is a kind of stand-in for Stone, soberly shaking his head as X says: “Does that sound like a bunch of coincidences to you, Mr. Garrison? Not for one moment.”

In advance of the film’s release, Stone pronounced “JFK” “a history lesson.” Prouty, however, who died in 2001, turned out to be extremely problematic. He had many theories in addition to his theories on Kennedy, including that the Joint Chiefs of Staff had foreknowledge of the Jonestown Massacre and that greedy oil barons invented the fiction that oil is made of decomposed fossils. And it was Prouty, Stone said, who turned him on to “The Report From Iron Mountain,” a 1967 document ostensibly written by a secret panel of military planners. The document is a favorite among conspiracy theorists, who, like Prouty, seem unaware that in 1972 the satirist Leonard Lewin admitted he wrote it. “I’ve acknowledged when I’ve made mistakes,” Stone said of the movie now. “There were a few mistakes, but nothing that changes the big story.”

It has been more than 20 years since Stone made “JFK,” a film that he now says should be looked at not as history but as a dramatized version of it — “the spirit of the truth.” “It’s called dramatic license,” Stone said about his approach in “JFK.” “It’s a noble tradition. The Greeks did it, Homer did it, Shakespeare did it.” Increased historical rigor may explain why his portrayal of Nixon’s life was deemed judicious by comparison, and even why, to the great chagrin of his liberal fans, “W.” was judged a sympathetic portrayal of Bush. (“It’s empathy,” he said, clearly irritated by that take. “It’s not sympathy. I repeat, I did not like George Bush, nor did I like Richard Nixon.”) This time, perhaps, having a bona fide tenured professor on his side will silence his many critics.

The screening of “Untold History” during the New York Film Festival early last month suggested that he might have a hit. At the end of the third hour, the crowd roared its approval. The cheers got only louder when Stone sauntered onstage for a postscreening panel discussion. “So much of what I saw today is what we try to do at The Nation,” said Katrina vanden Heuvel, the publisher and editor of the left’s beloved 147-year-old weekly. “To challenge the orthodoxy, challenge the conformity of our history and to speak truth to power.” Jonathan Schell, a journalist who also writes for The Nation, concurred.

Stone didn’t seem particularly riveted by the conversation at first, leaning back in his chair, gripping the bridge of his nose as if he had a sinus headache and sometimes closing his eyes so that, owing to his bushy Brezhnev eyebrows, he looked like a Russian premier lying in state. Just when the panel started to feel like a wonky meeting of Park Slope Food Coop members, the historian Douglas Brinkley stirred things up. Even though Brinkley provided the authors a nice blurb, calling the book “a brave revisionist study which shatters many foreign policy myths,” he had a few bones to pick with the project. Brinkley, who has written several notable histories, said he thought the series had gone too far in demonizing Truman. “Truman is one of the most popular presidents in American history, and he’s popular for doing a bunch of things,” he said. Brinkley mentioned how Truman presided over the end of World War II, racially integrated American troops, helped create the state of Israel and airlifted supplies into Soviet-blockaded West Berlin. “The only opening you’re giving him is that he was a naïf,” Brinkley said. This perked Stone right up. He shook his head. “If he’d done something noble, believe me, we’re not looking to cut it out,” Stone said, earning him a round of applause. “I just don’t see any nobleness.”

But Brinkley has a point. If the only thing you ever learned about Truman was from “Untold History,” you might conclude he was a virulent racist, mentally unfit for office and suffering from a gender confusion that led to mass murder. “He was bullied by other boys who called him ‘Four Eyes’ and ‘sissy’ and chased him home after school,” Stone narrates. “When he arrived home, trembling, his mother would comfort him by telling him not to worry because he was meant to be a girl anyway.” This, the series implies, might explain why Truman dropped atomic bombs on Japan — not to end the war but to flex his muscles and intimidate Stalin, as he himself had been intimidated as a boy.

While Stone glancingly acknowledges Stalin’s mass murder of his own people, Stalin, compared with Truman, still comes off as heroic, as an honest negotiator who, following F.D.R.’s death, was faced at every turn with Truman’s diplomatic perfidy. (Stalin promised that after he defeated Germany, he’d invade Japan, but Truman dropped the bomb anyway.) Stone also sees America’s role in the war as exaggerated. “The Soviets were regularly battling more than 200 German divisions. . . . The Americans and the British fighting in the Mediterranean rarely confronted more than 10,” Stone narrates.

If Truman represents the black hat of “The Untold History,” the white hats belong to those whose promise was unfulfilled — F.D.R., who died before he could make peace in Europe and Asia humanely, and Kennedy, cut down before he could stem aggression toward Communist elements in Southeast Asia. (The cold war, the series posits, was mostly a product of American paranoia and imperialist ambitions. Stalin was essentially pulled onto the dance floor by the United States, and Russia’s continued domination of Eastern Europe mainly a defensive response to our nuclear program and the establishment of American military bases throughout Europe.) The biggest hero of all, though, is the man who inspired the whole project: Henry Wallace. In the series, Wallace is treated to reverent orchestral music when his face appears on-screen, intercut at times with clips from “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.” “Wallace stuck out like a sore thumb on Capitol Hill,” Stone narrates. “He studied Buddhism and Zoroastrianism. . . . He liked to spend evenings reading or throwing boomerangs on the Potomac.”

Onstage, Kuznick said that he and Stone wanted to highlight pivotal moments in history when better decisions could have been made. “We actually came very close to having a very different kind of history,” he said. “We want to give people the ability to think in a utopian fashion again.” I asked Stone what would have happened had Wallace, not Truman, become president. “There would not have been this cold war,” he said. “There would have been the continuation of the Roosevelt-Stalin working out of things. Vietnam wouldn’t have happened.”

While to his fans Stone’s alternate histories are provocative, his detractors see them as grossly irresponsible cherry-picking. The conservative historian and CUNY emeritus professor Ronald Radosh said he found himself wanting to do harm to his television while watching the first four episodes, which he reviewed for the right-wing Weekly Standard. Radosh had been blogging skeptically about the Stone project since its announcement in 2010, but now that he’d actually seen it, he said, it was the historian rather than the conservative in him who was most offended. “Historians can have different interpretations, but based on evidence,” he said. “What these other guys do is manipulate evidence and ignore evidence that does not fit their predetermined thesis, and that’s why they’re wrong.” According to Radosh, Stone and Kuznick’s take on the United States’ role in the cold war mirrors the argument in “We Can Be Friends,” a book published in 1952 by Carl Marzani, who was convicted of concealing his affiliation to the Communist Party when he joined the O.S.S., the precursor to the C.I.A. “This Stone-Kuznick film could have been put out in 1955 as Soviet propaganda,” Radosh said. “They use all the old stuff.”

Radosh, who grew up as a Red Diaper baby in Washington Heights and only later turned to the right, thinks of himself as intimately familiar with the “old stuff.” But fearing he might be dismissed as partisan, he insisted I reach out to Sean Wilentz, a Princeton historian who, owing to his strident defense of Bill Clinton during his impeachment hearings and to his 2006 Rolling Stone cover article on George W. Bush, “The Worst President in History?” is regarded as decidedly left-leaning. When I spoke to him, Wilentz said: “You can’t get two historians more unlike each other than me and Ronnie Radosh. But we can agree about this. It’s ridiculous.” Wilentz was in the middle of writing a review of Stone’s book. “Always beware of books that describe themselves as the untold history of anything, because it’s usually been told before,” he said. “It sets up this thing that there is some sort of mysterious force suppressing the true facts, right? Glenn Beck does this all the time. It’s the same thing here, except this is basically a very standard left-wing, C.P., fellow traveler, Wallace-ite vision of what happened in 1945-46.” It’s not, Wilentz continued, that the questions raised aren’t worth raising. “Is there a legitimate argument to be made about the origins of our nuclear diplomacy or the decision to build the H-bomb?” he said. “Of course there is. But it’s so overloaded with ideological distortion that this question doesn’t get raised in an intelligent way. And once a question gets raised in an unintelligent way, then you are off in cloud-cuckoo land.”

But for some, Stone’s work, though flawed, does succeed in reorienting our perspective. “What Stone makes you rethink, which is very valuable, is why later in life did Truman have to take on such a macho posture?” Brinkley said after the screening. “I would think you’d be a little bit concerned about wiping out a civilian population and being the only president to use nuclear weapons.” Brinkley was referring to a clip Stone included from a 1958 interview Truman did with Edward R. Murrow, in which he was asked if the bomb was really necessary. Truman answered, chillingly: “We had this powerful new weapon. I had no qualms about using it.”

“Untold History” wants to present itself as the whole truth and nothing but. Yet Stone has always fared best as a provocateur. “JFK” may not be particularly good history, but so many people believed his film to be a document of the actual conspiracy, and so many others dismissed it as hooey, that Congress passed the President John F. Kennedy Assassination Records Collection Act in 1992, which precipitated the release of millions of pages of documents. We would never discover that L.B.J. had a hand in the killing — as Colonel X’s monologue in the movie would have us believe — but we did find out that L.B.J. thought preposterous the Warren Commission’s “magic bullet” explanation for how one bullet could have passed through the bodies of Kennedy and John Connally only to emerge pristine. And all the talk of forged autopsy records, which to many seemed like cloud-cuckoo land, didn’t seem so crazy after documents revealed that the pathologist who performed the J.F.K. autopsy had burned his original notes and replaced them with an edited version. This is unimpeachably good history that is directly attributable to Oliver Stone’s not being a great historian.

On Nov. 10, two days before the premiere of “Untold History” on Showtime, Kuznick was onstage at the 92nd Street Y, crowing a bit about the project’s reception. (He hadn’t yet heard the excoriating opinions of Wilentz and others.) “It’s interesting to see the early reviews,” Kuznick said. “They’re all glowing, really. I mean, nobody’s challenging anything we’re saying, either our facts or our interpretations.” Stone, sitting next to him, gestured with his hands, as if to calm him down. “Well, it’s early,” Stone said.

-Andrew Goldman, "Oliver Stone Rewrites History...Again," The New York Times, Nov. 25 2012

#oliver stone #the new york times #andrew goldman #the untold history of the united states

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soccerdailyuk · 1 year ago

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Jurrien Timber to Arsenal transfer sees player 'refuse to train' after £34.2m deal announced

Jurrien Timber to Arsenal transfer sees player 'refuse to train' after £34.2m deal announced Jurrien Timber's move to Arsenal has been highly successful at the Emirates Stadium, but the situation is quite the opposite at Ajax. The Gunners officially announced Timber as their second signing of the summer on Friday, with an initial transfer fee of £34.2 million, which could potentially increase to £38.5 million with additional bonuses. In his first full interview after sealing a move to Emirates Stadium, he said: "I really had a sense that it to be a team that plays in the right way. A club that has the right values. That develops young talent and has an unbreakable bond with its supporters. Now that I'm here I feel at home already. Something special is happening here and I want to be a part of it." “For me it doesn't really matter, I think that I'm lucky to say that I can play as a central defender, as a right full-back, sometimes even on the midfield. So I think that's a good thing and I need to keep that," he told Arsenal's club media. "He (Arteta) said the same thing so we are on the same page. "I spoke to him a couple of times before I came here obviously and we had some good conversations." Conversely, there seems to be a lack of positive discussions at Timber's previous club, Ajax, regarding their star player Dusan Tadic. According to Dutch newspaper AD, there are reports that Dusan Tadic is refusing to attend training as a consequence of Timber's departure. While Ajax has attributed the 34-year-old's absence to "private reasons," he has had discussions with technical director Sven Mislintat after returning from international duty. Tadic, the former Southampton player, is allegedly particularly disappointed with Ajax's choice to sell several defenders in recent years. Noussair Mazraoui, Daley Blind, and Lisandro Martínez have all left in the past few transfer windows, and now Timber has joined the Premier League, following in the footsteps of Martínez. Jurrien Timber to Arsenal transfer sees player 'refuse to train' after £34.2m deal announced Read the full article

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localbuzz · 1 year ago

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Based in Southampton, at Solent Blinds & Curtains we supply and fit made-to-measure blinds, curtains and shutters across the South Coast including Hampshire, Dorset & West Sussex in both the domestic and commercial sector.

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jemmabrown · 2 years ago

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#RailSafe #Southampton update RNIB #Blind #RailTransport #AccessibilityForRail #Accessibility

via IFTTT

youtube

View On WordPress

#autopost #blind #chronicIllness #disability #Low vision #Tiktok #Youtube

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babygirlbenji · 3 years ago

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Winning For You - Ben Chilwell

A/N: this was literally so much fun to write, i love writing for ben SO much!! i hope u enjoy this hehe happy bday king ily

You knew how challenging Ben’s season had been. From not getting as many starts in the England team as he wanted to being sidelined from Chelsea games, his motivation to even go to training was at an all time low. You had never seen him this demoralised. All you could do was support him and assure him that he had you, no matter what.

The day of the Southampton game dawned with weak October sunlight seeping in through the blinds of you and Ben’s shared bedroom. You rolled over to Ben’s side of the bed, groaning when you saw him already out of bed and getting into his training kit.

‘Babe, five more minutes?’ you grumbled, your voice croaky with sleep. He leant on the bed, smiling at how adorable you looked, all snuggled up in the duvet. Even with messy hair, bleary eyes and pouty lips protesting his absence from the bed, you were still the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

‘You know I’d rather be there with you, angel. I’ll see you at the Bridge?’ He stroked your hair back from your face and kissed your forehead as you nodded, but the pout remained on your lips.

‘I’ll be sitting by the goal for when you score.’ He scoffed. He couldn’t help it; it came out too quickly. Your shoulders sagged as you realised just how much his confidence had dipped. ‘You will score! I am speaking it into existence!’ He just laughed, shaking his head.

‘I’ll see you later, honey.’ He kissed you quickly before hurrying out of the room. A few moments later, you heard the front door open and close.

You sat nervously in your seat, twiddling the zip on your jacket. Kick off was imminent, and your heart had burst with proud when Ben was announced on the starting sheet.

As the players walked out to tumultuous applause at Stamford Bridge, Ben subtly glanced over to see where you were. He spotted you at the far end of the stadium, at what was away goal for the first half and home goal for the second half. You made eye contact and grinned at him, mouthing ‘I love you’. He winked back at you, suddenly feeling an extra sense of confidence coursing through him as the starting whistle screeched out across the stadium.

It was a frenetic match. Southampton were surprisingly competitive against the Champions of Europe, making it one of the most exciting matches you’d seen.

The Blues were one up at the break. Despite efforts from both sides, that was all they could achieve in the first 45 minutes, and you knew Tuchel would be giving them extra encouragement in the stadium.

As you waited for the second half to begin, someone tapped your shoulder.

You turned to see a girl around 11 years old looking up at you with curious blue eyes.

‘Excuse me?’ she asked.

‘Yes?’

‘Are you Ben Chilwell’s girlfriend?’ You smiled fondly. Your sister was around the same age as the girl, and she reminded you of her.

‘I am, yes! Do you want me to send him a message?’ She nodded shyly.

‘Please can you tell him that he’s my favourite player? And I hope he scores soon?’ You crouched down so you were at her eye level.

‘Of course I can, sweetheart, I’ll personally make sure he gets the message.’ She grinned, before waving goodbye and bounding back up the stairs towards her seat a few rows back from you.

You turned back to face the pitch, as the announcer came over the loudspeaker, proclaiming the start of the second half and encouraging people to go back to their seats. ‘I’ll see you soon, sweetheart!’ She waved goodbye, before bounding up the stairs back to her seat a couple rows above you.

The boys came back out onto the pitch, all with gritted teeth and equal looks of determination on their faces.

If the first half was frenetic, the second half was even more so. 15 minutes into the second bout, Southampton was awarded a penalty, causing frustrated sighs to erupt from the home end when the Southampton player scored.

20 minutes later, Timo sent the ball flying into the net to double Chelsea’s lead. Your doubts were looking ever more pointless; Chelsea were looking stronger than they’d seemed all match, especially in their defence.

Little did you know, your highlight of the game was yet to come.

A minute to go, and there was an absolute melee at the home goal, with two Chelsea players trying to score but the goalkeeper was having none of it.

You saw Ben take control of the ball and volley it towards the goal, and before you’d had a chance to encourage him, he’d lobbed it towards the net. There was a slight delay as VAR and the goal decision system decided whether it was a goal, but you knew it was a goal. You knew it had passed the line.

The second Ben knew it was confirmed, he came sprinting straight to your blinding smile lighting up his entire face with his dimples on show. Cheers and shouts were deafening your ears as he bundled you into a hug, you returning the hug as tight as you could.

‘I told you! I told you!’ you kept saying, trying to keep the delighted tears back. You broke apart to hold his face. His blue eyes were shining with tears, causing your own tears to leak onto your cheeks. ‘You just scored!’ He just grinned, too overwhelmed with emotion to talk, before kissing you hard. The cheers were almost as loud as when he scored, making you giggle against lips.

‘Winning for you is all I’ve ever wanted,’ he murmured to you, resting his forehead against yours.

‘You did it, babe, you proved them all wrong and I am so proud of you.’ You could see he wanted to celebrate with you more, but he was being dragged away by his teammates. ‘I’ll see you at home,’ you said, pressing your lips to his once more.

‘I love you, baby, thank you for being here.’

‘I love you too.’

You watched, heart burning with pride and love for Ben, as he celebrated the goal and win with his teammates, who had quickly become his family after his move. With all the doubt and confidence issues and worries he’d had in the break, you would not have dreamed of being anywhere else.

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socceradvice · 4 years ago

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Famous Footballers Who Had a Crucial Spell at Groningen in Their Career

#Ajax #Arjen Robben #Bayern München #Champions League #Chelsea #Daley Blind #Dusan Tadic #FC Barcelona #Groningen #Liverpool #Luis Suárez #Manchester United #Netherlands #Premier League #Real Madrid #Ronald Koeman #Southampton #Virgil van Dijk

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scitechman · 5 years ago

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Southampton Scientists Make Breakthrough in Search for Future Drugs for Age-Related Blindness University of Southampton researchers have developed an innovative solution to treating sight loss in old age.

#age-related blindness #University of Southampton

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dis--parity · 4 years ago

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Correspondence #4

Directory: PC-2742/External device (D:)/Audio/Reminder-1.mp3 Date of Recording: ████ of █████, 20██ Title: Secret Recording between Dr. Kerata Paterson & Capt. Liam Raynes

“Doc. I’ve made up my mind. It’s gotta be him, and it’s gotta be soon.” “... well then. You definitely didn’t take long coming to terms with that, did you?”

[ Liam pulls up a chair, allowing it to gracelessly scrape across the hardwood floor as he takes a seat. Kerata is quick to follow suit, sat in the plush amaranth silk of her own chair. ]

“Might I ask what spurred this on? You seemed rather hesitant, especially after that deal the major offered you as an out. You don’t have to–”

“The fuckin’ prick- if you saw the way he spoke about- no, treated Garis in and out of the interrogation room, you’d agree. This shit’s all business as usual to him. His method of questioning is not only ineffective, it’s just giving him an excuse to be an asshole.”

“You sound... vindictive, Liam. Don’t tell me this is just down to a personal vendetta. You’ve thought this out, haven’t you?”

[ Liam pauses - the chair still creaking as he adjusts his position, shifting simply from his weight alone. Someone needs to work on his posture - but why do that, he thinks, when it would sacrifice so much of his presence? ]

“Listen. He’s the one who started the Malmo bust in the first place. He’s the one who’s been writing half the files since we’ve been recovering documents from the compound, and the others in New York. MI5 sent over what they found in the Southampton site, and he’s managed all of it. If it gets out, if there’s a leak... all the eyes will be on him.”

“Are you certain? You’re walking out, and leaving a national security panic in your wake, and you’re certain that everybody is just going to turn a blind eye?”

“The families that the Kimuras are good with have got me there. Steve’s got my admission of confidentiality when I leave, and that’s good enough for him. He knows I’m an honest man - and the yakuza will tie up any loose ends, burn any paper trails that might lead back to me. All eyes on Brewer.”

[ Kerata shifts in her seat - a heavy sigh breezes through, the very exasperation in the breath picked up with perfect clarity by the recorder. ]

“Don’t gimme that, doc. You’ve got a hand in this too, remember? I’m sending that message you want me to. Brewer’s gonna chide me for getting too ‘personal’ during an interrogation, I can tell you that much already - but I’ll make it happen. But, again... no guarantees your boy will hear it, or do anything with it. I don’t really see the point, but... fuck, I’m doing this anyway, and I owe you a favour. I’ll give you that lead. Keep tabs on it.”

“And what about Garis? What about... after you’re done with the interrogations? They’re coming back with you, I know, but... it won’t be them, will it? That’s... that’s what worries me. Whoever they were, whoever they’ll become, they might not understand what they’re going through, what your CIA is putting them through.”

“Who said anything about the CIA? It’s not like there’s only one hypnotherapist in the whole world, Kerata.“

“Yakuza again?”

“Bingo. They’ll be safe - and the late Kimura-san’s debt to me will be repaid. Then... we start anew. This... Yeong-Hui Han. Who they were before. As for Garis... who knows what’ll happen to them? Could be erased completely. Could be a well-remembered chapter in the new person’s life, could be forgotten. We’ll just have to see.”

“Liam...”

“Doc.” [ Liam reaches over, and shakes the good doctor gently by the shoulder. ] “They’re safe with me. They will be for as long as they need to be, and I’ll let them know that. As for you... I suggest you give your search a little wait, too. At the very least until the heat dies down, or ‘til this ‘A’ of yours is a little more well-adjusted in life. Who knows what your little puppet show of their lives might do to ‘em?”

“... one more interrogation. Then, all of that. Everything falls into place... and perhaps I can sleep fine at night once again. You can promise me that... captain?”

“... I’m your guy, doctor. You’ll rest easy when you see the news a week from now.

Promise.”

#[REDACTED] The Haemolife Files #{ here's a lil correspondence i was meaning to write! }#{ just to clarify and contextualise something i think i left a tad bit vague }#{ and also just to solidify characters and whatnot }#{ but! i wanted to get this out bc i have work the next couple days and that might stem progress on interrogation 3 }#{ but i'll do my best to get the lead out on that babes }

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pengychan · 4 years ago

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[Good Omens] Winging It - Luke 1:19

Summary: Shockingly, attempting to destroy an angel without consulting God first comes with consequences. There is more than one way to fall, and a thousand more ways to inconvenience an angel and a demon who just wanted to be left in peace. Characters: Gabriel, Crowley, Aziraphale, Beelzebub, Michael, Uriel, Sandalphon Rating: T

Prologue and all chapters are tagged as ‘winging it’ on my blog.

A/N: Almost done! It's not quite wrapped up - an epilogue is coming - but we're almost there!

***

“I say you should let me destroy him.”

“It was not his fault. One of yours was controlling him.”

“Demons cannot create darkness from nothing. They always work on what’s already there, to make it grow and take hold. Hastur will be punished once I get my hands on him, but this human is not innocent either.”

“No one is innocent, that can hardly be held against him. Without the heavy-handed intervention of a Duke of Hell, any dark thoughts he may have had would have remained thoughts, never acted upon. Not the way things played out, at any rate.”

“Does it make any difference?”

“It does, and you know it. All the difference in the world,” was the reply. Beelzebub scoffed, but did not argue further. They just crossed their arms and stayed behind as Gabriel stepped right in front of the man who had stabbed him, who stood still with a horrified expression on his face.

Gabriel picked up the knife that had been dropped on the ground, pocketed it, and pressed a hand on the man’s forehead. The horrified expression melted into a distant, blank gaze.

“Now, if you please,” he said. Several steps away, with the expression of someone who’d rather be quite literally anywhere else in creation - except, perhaps, in the presence of Satan himself - Crowley lifted a hand and snapped his fingers, undoing the time-stopping miracle he’d conjured.

Right away, the stillness was broken. People who’d stopped mid-stride began moving again, cries of alarm that had been cut short rang out once again, and the man - Noah, was it? - staggered back, blinking at Gabriel as though he had no idea how he’d even come to be there.

From his part, Gabriel gave him a wide, stupid smile. Blood had been miracled away almost as soon as the two of them had broken apart - which did, admittedly, take a minute or two - but the front of his suit was red regardless. To be entirely honest, when he’d asked Aziraphale for some red ink and then proceeded to splash it on the front of his suit, they all had looked at him like he had lost his mind. Beelzebub had thought God had taken his brain in exchange for the wings, but now they could at least see what the archangel had been planning.

“Noah!” said archangel was exclaiming, face lighting up. “Long time no see! How are you?”

The man blinked another couple of times, reaching up to rub his head. “What am I doing-- where-- wait, I… I remember you, don’t I? You gave me your coat. But what just… my head...”

“Sir! Are you all right! What is-- oh.”

A man - one of several humans who’d quickly approached to see what was happening, or at least had begun to before Crowley so conveniently stopped time - stopped in his tracks. Gabriel grinned. “Ah, I’m fine, I’m fine! I didn’t watch where I was going and the gentleman here knocked me over, that is all. Entirely by accident.”

“Oh. It... it looked like--” a few pairs of eyes paused on the red stain on Gabriel’s clothing.

"An unfortunate end for an ink cartridge, I am afraid, but no harm done other than that."

“Ah.” A long sigh, while Noah kept looking around in obvious confusion. “Ah, thank God. For a moment we thought you were wounded.”

“Thank God indeed, I am not wounded,” Gabriel replied, voice smooth, and reached to put an arm around Noah’s shoulders. “But forget the ink, I think we should catch up…”

The young man - who would soon leave Soho with a dulling headache, still unsure of what had happened, and with a winning lottery ticket in the back pocket of his jeans - followed, and the crowd dispersed, the incident closed as far as humanity was concerned.

Well. Most of humanity, at any rate.

***

“More tea, Warlock?”

“You gave me three cups already.”

“Right. Right. It is cold by now, isn’t it? I will make more.”

“... Brother Francis. You do realize I am not going to stop asking what the hell happened just because you keep giving me tea, right?”

Ah. Well. Perhaps it had been a slightly foolish hope, that. Tea did have a tendency to smooth over a lot of trouble, but that was probably a little beyond its scope. “Well,” he said, putting up a smile. “I for one would very much appreciate it if you could

“That bloke had wings.”

“Yes, well--”

“And he was stabbed, but then he was fine.”

“You see--”

“And that was not normal lighting.”

“Actually, I was just reading about this interesting phenomena calling ball lighting--”

“And you had wings,” Warlock cut him off once again, glancing over where Aziraphale’s wings would be if he hadn’t temporarily tucked them away on another plane of existence. “Where did you put them?”

“That is… quite the handful of questions.”

“A lot of weird shit happened.”

“Language, young man.”

“You tell me what happened, and I’ll start talking like a duke.”

“Not like the duke who caused this mess, I should hope,” Crowley spoke up, walking - more like sauntering, he never walked like that when he was his nanny - back into the bookstore. Brother Francis, whom Warlock was beginning to suspect was not called Brother Francis at all, finally set down the tea pot to look back at him.

“Is everything sorted?”

“Yes. Nothing of consequence happened, happily ever after, and most importantly Beelzebub and the Archangel Fucking Gabriel have left.”

“Actually, I am still here.”

“Gah!” Crowley yelped, actually leaping a couple of feet up in the air before turning. The bloke-who’d-been-stabbed-and-then-suddenly-had-wings was standing in the doorway, the splatters of red ink gone from his suit and wings no longer visible. He looked… rather pleased with himself for the reaction he’d solicited. “Why are you still here? Wait, is Beelzebub--?”

“They are off to find the runaway, luckily for you. Your forked tongue keeps slipping far too often, Crowley. Keep that up and you may end up giving your little rouse away, sunshine.”

“Sunshine, me? Have you hit your--” Crowley began, only to trail off as though struck in the face. “Ah. Fuck,” he muttered, the annoyance giving way to something a lot more similar to fear. Behind Warlock, Brother Francis cleared his throat, passing the tea pot from one hand to the other and then back again.

“When… when did you figure it out?” he asked. That bunch of weirdos was making less and less sense with each passing moment.

“The third or fourth time he added that expletive between my title and my name in my presence, I suppose.” The man grinned, more than a touch smug, before shrugging. “You need not worry. I will make no mention of it with anyone.”

“We’d be… grateful if you didn’t,” Brother Francis said.

“Speak for yourself,” Crowley muttered, clearly mightily annoyed.

“I owe you too much to do such a thing.” The man made a gesture as though to zip his mouth shut. “My lips are sealed. Ah, and I am glad to see the young man is all right, of course.” The man nodded towards Warlock. “I’m relieved you were unharmed.”

“Huh. I… yeah. That’s gonna be a fun story to tell a therapist one day. Thanks for pulling me out of the way, I guess.”

“You are quite welcome. I am here to thank you as well, Aziraphale,” the man added, turning to Brother Francis, whose name definitely wasn’t Brother Francis after all. “For all your help.”

“Oh. It was nothing.”

“It was far more than I had any right to ask of you.”

“To be fair, you didn’t ask.”

“And you took me in anyway. You do have a lot to teach about the greater good after all, but I assume you’d prefer not to be further involved in the workings upstairs. Am I correct?”

A nod. “Quite correct, as a matter of fact.”

“Well then, I will leave you be. Time to see if I learned the lesson I was meant to learn, I suppose.”

“... Back to your hold position, then?”

“I suppose. I will have to see what Metatron will tell me once I return to Heaven. If I am indeed to return to my duties, I will need to serve notice at the warehouse back in Southampton.”

Ah, great. So everyone here is going insane. Cool, cool.

As Warlock sipped lukewarm tea just to keep himself from laughing a little hysterically, the man he’d known as Brother Francis and who probably was neither thing nodded, and held out a hand. “Best of luck, then,” he smiled. “And thank you for saving Warlock. Crowley and I are quite fond of the boy. You have more than repaid any debt you may have had.”

Behind the man Crowley opened his mouth as though to protest, paused a moment, and then begrudgingly closed it. Warlock was not entirely sure why that made him grin into the cup, but it did. Not that it kept him from yelping and dropping said cup to shatter on the floor with a loud ‘fuck’ when a bolt of lighting suddenly struck inside the bookshop, blinding him for a moment.

When he opened his eyes again, blinking a few times, the man was gone and the bolt of lightning seemed to have caused no damage. Well, aside from the shattered cup he had dropped, which now Brother Francis was picking up and… magically putting back in one piece.

Okay. Okay. Okay.

“What the--”

“Language if you please.” The man who had once been his family’s gardener cleared his throat, and put the mended cup on the table before glancing at Crowley. “Well, I suppose we do owe him an explanation.”

“He’s just a kid.”

“So are Adam’s friends, and they clearly could handle it.”

A sigh. “Fair,” Crowley muttered, and sat down as well before he reached up to take off his glasses. Warlock had never seen him without glasses, even when he was his nanny… and as he took a look at his eyes, he suddenly knew why. He stared, mouth hanging open, as Crowley scratched the back of his head. “All right, it’s a long story,” he began. “So, in the beginning - which is to say, the Beginning with a capital B…”

***

“Archangel Gabriel. It is good to see you again.”

“Metatron. It’s good to see you as well. Am I really meant to return to my old position?”

“That is the will of God. With immediate effect.”

“Ah, I am afraid I need some time.”

“Oh?”

“I need to hand in my notice at my current workplace. It would be unprofessional of me to simply walk away on them.”

“Ah, I see. I am certain that can be arranged - would it help if they happened to find a perfect fit for the job right after you notice is handed in?”

“It would be much appreciated.”

“Consider it done. Anything else?”

“... Does God have any instructions as to what plan I am meant to follow now?”

“You know the answer, Gabriel. You need to forget there was ever a plan, and do what you think is right. You, and everybody else.”

“We may get it wrong.”

“That’s part of the package, is it not?’

“Hah. Fair enough.”

“Rest assured, however, that any mistakes made in good faith will not be dealt with as… severely as your previous crime.”

“That is a relief. However, I ought to disclose that I have grown quite... close... to Lord Beelzebub in my time on Earth. Certainly, God must be aware.”

“God knows all, including your most questionable taste.”

“... Are those God’s own words, or…?”

“My own. But I am here to speak for God, so my apologies for the lapse.”

“Right. And… the Lord does not believe this impedes my return to duty?”

“Clearly not, if you’re standing here before me.”

“... I am not going to renounce Beelzebub. I told them as much and I will repeat it before the Lord.”

“God is aware of that as well. They have been following your eventful stay on Earth very closely. It will be interesting to see how Heaven and Hell are both going from here. Change is the only certainty going forward. That, and the fact you were never forsaken. No one ever is.”

“I understand.”

“Good. Now, Archangel Gabriel - do you wish me to announce your return?”

“No, no, no need. I believe I will drop by to see my colleagues myself.”

***

“Hastur is nowhere to be found in Hell, Lord Beelzebub.”

“Hmph, of course he’s not so dumb he’d try to return. I want everyone to know that when found, he must be captured and brought to me.”

“As you wish. On what charge?”

“He disobeyed my direct order by approaching the traitor. Now go spread the word.”

“Of course, Lord Beelzebub.”

With Dagon gone, the Prince of Hell and Lord of the Flies sat back heavily on their throne and rubbed their forehead, trying to quell a growing headache and make some sense out of the event of what was supposed to be an uneventful day, at least according to the original plan.

Plans really cannot be trusted anymore, it seems.

With a grunt, Beelzebub turned their gaze on the small table right by, where - among a few mugs of dubious taste - sat a folder. Last they had laid their eyes on it, the name Gabriel F. Archer had been written on it in blood, or rather in red ink that was purposely meant to look like blood. Now, however, the folder was blank - as were the papers in it, no doubt. There no longer was any human by that name whose sins they had to keep track of.

There was only the Archangel Gabriel.

By all logic, that ought to be the end of everything that there may have been between them. Except that the idiot had grasped their hands before they returned to Hell, looked at them in the eye and said, “I will not deny you”.

“Even your precious concierge upstairs denied Yeshua when push came to shove. Three times.”

“I will never.”

“What if it leads to another fall?”

“I survived the first. I can take another.”

“You’re a fool.”

“I am aware.”

Beelzebub scoffed, but a smile was curling their lips as they reached to take the blank, useless folder. It burst into flames the next moment, igniting a few of the flies buzzing around their head before they let it fall on the round - there it crumbled quietly, into ash.

***

“Ugh, where’s the folder…”

Michael rubbed her forehead with a groan, coming to the realization she was really not really meant for record-keeping. Truth be told, that was a conclusion she had come to on almost a weekly basis since Gabriel had been dismissed. She’d take on fourteen wars to end all wars rather than having to keep grappling with what had been the bulk of Gabriel’s job, but alas--

“Any particular folder you’re looking for?”

Ah, speak of the devil. Or rather, speak of the archangel.

“The one concerning renovations of the third sphere,” Michael muttered, looking up at the wall full of… nothing but folders. Paper copies were kept even after everything had been digitized, and Michael had figured finding the physical copy would be quicker than trying her luck with the password she had written down and then misplaced a week earlier.

Gabriel chuckled. “It’s just a little on your left, fifth shelf from bottom, about midway.”

Ah, yes, there it was. “Thanks,” Michael said, and reached to take it out.

Then she froze. And blinked. And then she slowly, slowly turned.

Standing in the doorway of his office, impeccable in a light grey suit and pink tie, Gabriel grinned. “Security has gone downhill since I left,” he said. “Just letting a mortal wander right in.”

Michael opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She worked her jaw a few moments, trying and failing to find words. “You’re not a mortal,” she finally managed. He clearly was not, giving off the kind of power only a celestial being could give.

Gabriel’s grin widened. “No longer,” he said, and suddenly unfolded his wings, causing Michael to recoil in surprise. Not his old wings, the ones she cut and tore away herself; it was something different. The golden brown of the feathers was at odds with the immaculate white of their surroundings, but it was wings nonetheless and not the scorched black that set demons apart. The being before her was the same being she had known since almost the beginning of time.

I am Gabriel, who stands in the presence of God.

For a long moment, Michael could only stare. Gabriel’s grin faded a little before he cleared his throat and folded his wings, maybe somewhat embarrassed by the display. “My apologies for startling you, I figured I’d--” he began, but Michael crossed the distance between them in a couple of strides, and pulled him in a tight embrace before he could add anything else.

Not something Michael was usually keen on doing, that, but she felt the situation warranted it - and as he returned it after only a moment of confusion, she knew he thought the same. “No one will take your wings ever again,” Michael heard herself saying, and Gabriel chuckled.

“Not even if God orders so?”

“Especially not if God orders so.”

Until little less than a year earlier - the blink of an eye, really, in the context of his existence - Gabriel would have been both horrified and stunned to hear such words from Michael of all people, and would have hardly believed she meant it. Now he clearly did know she meant it, and he seemed neither horrified nor stunned. He pulled back with a smile.

“It’s good to be back.”

“Good to have you back.” Michael cleared her throat and straightened herself, deciding she had shown enough unguarded emotion for the decade. “But… how did this occur?”

“Ah, it is a long story.” A pause. “Actually, not all that long. It happened fairly quickly, but there is some background you... rather need to hear.”

“Of course. There have been developments in Hell, too - it seems they may be harboring thoughts of--”

“I know. Beelzebub told me.”

Michael blinked. “Beelzebub… told you?”

“Yes. They brought it up during the train ride to London.”

“A train ride to London,” Michael repeated, faintly wondering if Gabriel was feeling well. Angels did not get fever and much less have fever dreams, but mortals did - a detail Michael had learned after the eleventh time her appearance had been mistaken for a such episode - and perhaps Gabriel was suffering from some… drawbacks, after almost a year spent as a mortal.

But then again, back when he had still been scared of them, the scars on his back still fresh, he did hide from Sandalphon… and behind the Lord of the Flies of all beings.

But he’s here. God willed him back. Surely he did not fraternize… did he?

Michael opened her mouth to ask, but Gabriel lifted a hand with a sigh. “I know, I know. There is… quite a lot I have not told you about. I’ll explain everything, I promise - at least the parts of everything I understand myself. But first, I would like to visit--”

“Michael, I think I found the password!” Sandalphon’s voice rang out, causing Gabriel to trail off and turn back towards the door. Sandalphon was walking in with some papers under his arm. “You had misplaced--” he began, looking up, and trailed off.

Gabriel grinned. “Hey,” he said, and all the papers Sandalphon had been carrying fluttered to the floor. If Michael had gone for an embrace, Sandalphon - ever devoid of sense of measures - went for a full-on tackle. Gabriel didn’t seem to mind, though, and Michael opted to push aside all worries and questions for a few minutes, especially as Uriel came to see what the mess was all about. It was rare to see her smile so openly, and Michael decided to leave it at that. After all, they just got Gabriel back.

Everything else could be sorted out later.

***

“You son of a bitch!”

“You know, given the circumstances of who is personally and directly responsible for my existence, what you just said is about a dozen different kinds of blasph-- oof!”

Of course Gabriel couldn’t really be out of breath anymore, but if he could, Daniel’s bear hug would have knocked all air out of his lungs. He laughed, patting his back. “Nice to see you too.”

“Archangel Gabriel-- look at you, I can’t believe it,” he barked out a laugh and dropped Gabriel back on the floor. “Jesus Christ, I thought you were drunk!”

“Well, I was. Too drunk to know better than telling the truth. I’d never had alcohol before, let alone in a mortal vessel.”

“Hah! I did wonder how come a can of beer got you rambling like that. So what, I passed some sort of divine test?”

“It was no test, but if it were you’d have passed it with flying colors.” Gabriel smiled, and nodded politely towards the woman in the room with Daniel. “Liv, I presume?” he asked, but of course he already knew the answer. Daniel had a photo of his wife in his wallet, taken before the cancer diagnosis was ever uttered.

“It was probably already eating away at her, but you’d have never known looking at her,” Daniel had once said in a rare moment of talkativeness about the subject. Gabriel had agreed that the woman in the photo did indeed look radiant, and that was precisely how she looked now. Of course, most souls that make it to Heaven do.

“That would be me. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.”

“What are you doing here?” Daniel was asking. “I mean, you were cast out - they decided to hire you again?”

“In a manner of speaking. I’ll have to hand in my notice back in Southampton, I am afraid, but I do plan to keep in touch with our colleagues. Hopefully they will all come here when their time is up. Although I must say, Łukasz is on thin ice if he keeps on putting cream in carbonara.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can put in a good word for him if needed, no?”

“Me? Ah, I don’t know. Maybe,” Gabriel replied, all fake innocence, and Daniel laughed.

“Never had a friend in a high place before. This is a nice change of pace,” he said, dropping a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder before his expression turned… a little more serious. “I’ve got to thank you for all your help. Finding my brother.”

Ah, that. “It is all right. I am only regretful he was not found on time for you to meet in person.”

A pained expression crossed Daniel’s features, there one moment and gone the next. “... Well, I do hope… he will come here? Eventually?”

“Oh, yes. He and his wife are well on track to gain access to Heaven.” Unlike your parents, Gabriel thought, but Daniel had not asked once about them and he chose not to bring them up. “Actually, they want me over for lunch next weekend. I figure I ought to go.”

“Ah, of course.” Daniel seemed to hesitate. “Tell him I said hi. I mean, I know you can’t say that, but if you could just-- try and-- let him know. You know what I mean?”

Yes, he did know. “Of course. And one day they will probably both want to smack me for not coming clean,” Gabriel said. “Ah, before I forget - would you like to have Lawrence’s old dog?”

Daniel blinked and looked over at Liv. She shrugged, at a loss. “Lawrence’s… what?”

“His old dog. It has passed away, and as all dogs find their way to Heaven, it is only a matter of finding out its name…”

***

“He’ll keep calling you Brother Francis for a while before he gets used to your name, isn’t he?”

“Most likely. I cannot blame him, it was a lot to take in. I certainly do not mind, when it came to choosing a name I picked that of someone I do admire a great deal.”

“That weird hippy who talked to birds? Should have known when you kept welcoming pests into the garden.”

“Heh. Maybe you should have been the gardener after all, as long as you promised not to terrify the Dowlings’ poor plants too much.”

“And leave the role of nanny to you?”

“Well, why not?”

“You wouldn’t have looked half as good in that dress, angel.”

Leaning next to him on the huge bed in their cottage - Crowley had not expected Aziraphale to join him on it, truth be told, but he had no complaints; maybe the day had just been that draining - Aziraphale chuckled. “Well, I would say we did a decent job with the boy. He took it better than I expected he would, all things considered.”

“We did keep out some parts of the story.” Namely, the fact they had briefly talked about… getting rid of him, when they believed him to be the Antichrist. Not that either of them had followed through, or even wished to.

“True. But all things considered, he was more excited than anything else.”

“He’s still eleven, of course he was excited. He’ll be back with even more questions.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Maybe we could have him over here next time. At the cottage.”

“Can’t see why not.”

“... We could have wiped his memories off. Do you think he will really keep all this to himself?”

“He’ll be thrown in the madhouse if he tells, to use his own words. He’s a smart kid. Takes after me.” Crowley grinned. “He’ll keep it under wraps like Adam and his friends did. More smart kids. I wonder how they’re doing.”

“Well, I am reasonably certain we’ll find out in September. I would be very surprised if they didn’t receive a wedding invitation themselves.”

“Wedding invitation?”

“Ah, yes, it came in the mail. I forgot to bring it up - remember that dear Anathema and… Newton, I think the name is? They kindly invited us to their wedding.”

“Did they? How nice. I will need to find a good dress.”

“Don’t you upstage the bride now, you know it’s not nice.”

“I am not nice.” Crowley hissed, and Aziraphale just chuckled before he stretched. Crowley considered asking once again if he was sure Gabriel would indeed keep their secret, but decided not to. Aziraphale seemed certain, and he was… willing to trust his judgment, this time.

“Ah, perhaps this is a good occasion to find out if sleep is indeed all that you make it out to be,” Aziraphale was saying. “You’ll ensure I wake up in the morning, won’t you?”

Crowley blinked a moment, taken aback. Then Azirapahle raised an eyebrow, clearly confused by his sudden silence, and he cleared his throat with a quick nod. “Of course,” he said, having absolutely no intention to rouse Aziraphale any earlier than necessary.

With complete control over his human form, Aziraphale was of course able to will himself to sleep within moments, his expression absolutely peaceful. Crowley could have done the same, but he… didn’t. Not yet.

A good night’s sleep was indeed all it was made out to be and then some more, but at the moment he didn’t mind staying awake just a little longer.

***

“So you were re-hired for your job? That sounds exciting. You must be happy to go back. Have more cake.”

“Ah, thank you. It did feel a lot like coming home, but it will be keeping dreadfully busy. I believe the entire business is long overdue for some rather radical changes.”

“Hmph. From what you have said before, it sounds as though you were fired without just cause.” Lawrence sipped some tea, leaning back against his seat. “I certainly hope they will not pull the same stunt again.”

“Ah, to be completely fair, there was due cause. I was simply in denial over it. Hardly anyone likes admitting to being wrong.” Gabriel took a spoonful of the block of carrot cake Berenice had just dropped on his plate, going his best to pretend he didn’t notice Doyle peering up at him from under the table, drooling copiously and trying with very little success to play the part of the starving stray. “And I have learned much in my time away. I believe management thinks that’s what makes me qualified for the work ahead.”

Lawrence shrugged. “Well then, if this is what you feel works best, I can only wish you the best of luck. Should you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to let me know,” he added.

Gabriel smiled. “Thank you,” he said, glazing over to the framed photo of Lawrence and Berenice’s wedding day - namely Doyle’s predecessor, the huge Newfoundland who’d been their ringbearer on the day,. “... If I may ask, what was that dog’s name?”

Please don’t be Fido. I cannot bear thinking about how many dogs called Fido are in Heaven.

“Huh?” Berenice followed his gaze to the photo. “Oh, that was Chewbarka. A very good boy. Slobbered an awful lot, but he was still the gentlest boy.”

Well, that was going to make the search easier. Gabriel promised himself he’d make sure Chewbarka was found and taken to Daniel as soon as he returned, ate more of the cake, made more small talk, and shook his head with a smile when Lawrence asked him if he’d like to stay for dinner.

“No, thank you. I really do need to go back.”

A laugh. “Ah, of course. You’re a busy man now.”

Gabriel grinned back. “That too, but as of this evening, I just have a date.”

***

“You told the other archangels about me?”

“Yes. There was no reason to keep hiding--”

“How dare you!”

“They would have found out eventually--”

“You denied me the pleasure of seeing their faces as you told them,” Beelzebub muttered, causing Gabriel to trail off, stare a moment, and laugh.

“Hah! My apologies. It did not occur to me you’d have appreciated being present.”

“Hmph. And how did they take it?”

“I think ‘shell-shock’ best describes their reaction, but they’ll get used to it. I think. I mean, I am not leaving them much of a choice.”

I won’t deny you, Gabriel had said, and kept his word. Beelzebub snorted, but did not protest when Gabriel’s arm rested across their shoulders. They glanced up at the setting sun instead.

“... Everything from here is uncharted territory,” they said. No plan, no guarantees, no nothing.

“Yes.” Gabriel grinned. He was doing that an awful lot lately, with childish glee. It was annoying and it made him look stupid, but Beelzebub found they didn’t mind. “Isn’t it exciting?”

***

And the angel answered and said to him, “I am Gabriel, who stands in the presence of God, and was sent to speak to you and bring you these glad tidings." -- Luke 1:19

***

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