#from the trenches of the english majors

[aachria]

The long awaited (maybe? Idk how many of you were waiting for this) SSSBMTY College AU!

Majors in bold

Headcanons in regular text

Notes about the art indented in orange

Luffy — Undeclared

Was forced into school by his gramps. (The university dean. The fucking dorm building all the Strawhats but Jimbei live in is named after him.)(it was this or join the navy.) Takes the most random classes he can. Some of them are advanced and require perquisites and no one knows how he keeps getting into them. Wears shorts and sandals in winter & will run any errand or do any odd job for food. He has a very nice bike he got for free from a garage sale that Franky fixed up. There's a campus wide bet on when and what he'll choose as his major. His bucket hat was a gift from Shanks, the universities World Economics prof. Has a million friendship bracelets on his ankles because Ed makes them when they're stressed. Never has a bag on him. Fights Canadian geese on the way to class, like a fucking maniac. Protected species who?

When I tell you that this drawing of Luffy is the first time I've ever drawn actual feet with toes that don't look fucking ridiculous I need to cheer for me. Why is he a different flavour of boy every time I draw him please. His ass isn't rubber in this universe, of course he's scuffed to shit. Chopper ran out of Spiderman bandaids, sorry bud. Advocate for the Single Piercing Luffy™ agenda, he went and got it done with Ed when they got their helix.

Ed — English major Psychology minor

Took History of Piracy for easy grades & a story idea. Known around campus as that asshole who'll tell you exactly which of your roommates ate your leftovers for $5. Is roommates with Luffy because of a system mix-up when they got distributed. Always wears a Burberry trench coat Nami thrifted for $3 and gave them as a bday gift. Carries everything in a ratty falling apart messenger bag. Them and Luffy filled out marriage papers on a dare, Zoro (who got legally ordained on a dare minutes before) oversaw that, Zoro and Ed filed the papers when they were drunk. So Ed and Luffy are legally married. And they don't even notice until tax season and Jonah, Ed's accounting friend, asks about it.

I need you to ignore the inconsistence with the hands in these ok? Some of them get very nice and normal hands, and others get weird shaped blobs. Sorry Ed, them's the breaks kid.

Zoro — Health and Fitness major Mathematics minor

Literally no one knows why he has a Mathematics minor, least of all him. P sure he walked into the wrong class on the first day and just stuck with it. The most terrifying captain of the kendo team the university has ever had. He's won more championships and trophies in his tenure than the school has in its history, the revenue he brings in from sponsorships and such make them turn a blind eye to his... eccentricities (three sword style. Nobody has stopped him yet, anyone who says it's illegal gets penalized). Has had campus security called on him so often from being creepy when walking home from the gym in the dark there's a poster of him in the security office that says 'NOT ACTUALLY A THREAT. JUST WEIRD AND WALKS WITH PURPOSE.'

Zoro's sword patch on his jacket was designed by Usopp, embroidered by Luffy for a class (shittily) and fixed up and sewn on by Ed. Those docs have seen war. He has put them through hell. He has walked through a fucking river with those things, he superglues them back together every time they break. Franky had to strongarm him into getting the soles professionally replaced.

Nami — Meteorology major Finance minor

All of her clothes are thrifted designer things. Regularly terrorizes Value Village employees. Anything she has that isn't thrifted she gets from the many estate sales she plagues, snatching grandma's entire Chanel collection and all her nicest jewelry. She has absolutely everything anyone could ever need in her purse. Tampons and pads? She gotchu. Extra pens? It'll cost you, but yeah. A curling iron? Sure, why the hell not. She runs the betting pool on Luffy's major with Ed. She also writes a gossip column for the school newspaper and has a podcast she uploads a new episode to every few months. Shows up to every class looking like a supermodel no matter the time. 7am? Perfect. 10pm? Fabulous. Your go-to if you get locked out of your dorm. Has a moped but barely uses it.

Nami's bag is a large Prada Gallaria Saffiano bag, which I painstaking drew to accuracy down to the colour even though it still looks ever so slightly different, because Nami is a big purse girl. The compass rose necklace was a going away gift from Nojiko when she left for uni. I think her haircut is so cute I love her sm. Don't pay any mind to how fucking disheveled half of their lineart looks next to her pls.

Usopp — Graphic Design major

Not a member of the archery club, but shows up enough he’s in all the team photos. Was originally the designated driver, had a pretty little mini van they called the Merry, had one of those fucking fuzzy dice hanging mirror things in the shape of a sheep’s head. Got in a bad car accident and she got totaled by some jackass in a red Honda Civic. Dating Kaya, who’s a nursing student. They barely see each other because she’s so fucking busy and half the students are convinced the girlfriend Usopp is always talking about and calling is fake. The Strawhats have a dnd campaign that they run every other week, Usopp DM's. On weekends he works at an axe throwing range and holds the record for most bullseyes in a row. They have his picture mounted on the wall.

Usopp's necklace is the old key to the Merry, and he engraved his belt buckle for a project. I cursed his ass with the giant fuck off portfolio bag because those things are so big and unwieldy. The people in his program's studio never clean their paint up properly, that's why he's covered in it. Advocate for the Usopp With Gages™ agenda. God he is such a cutie patootie.

Sanji — Business degree

Literally grew up working in a restaurant, he’s only going to school to get the degree so he can open his own and also because Zeff threated to castrate him if he didn't get a higher education. Cooks basically every single meal for the dorm, since it’s just the Strawhats (it's a new (old it's old and was refurbished. Everyone assumed it was haunted.) building that they just dedicated to Garp. Has no other residents yet). Him and Zoro fight so much in their shared room half the time he ends up kicking him out and making him sleep in the community room lmao. He just shows up in half the culinary classes because he hates the business ones so much, the one time someone tried to tell him to leave he cussed them out for a full ten minutes while gesticulating wildly with a knife in hand. They never tried that again. Saw one of the profs berate a young lady for wearing a dress shirt to class because it’s impractical and proceeded to take that personally. Yeah he wears three piece suits to all his classes, he could still kick you ass in ‘em. Shut up. Volunteers to show around foreign exchange students because he can speak at least 4 foreign languages fluently. Is it to woo pretty French girls with his charm? Wouldn't you like to know.

I could not draw Sanji in a decent pose for the life of me, his ass was just not having it. He's got one of them really nice leather messenger bags with the lined pockets and filigree, he's very proud of it.

Chopper — PreMed

One of the few Strawhats who regularly sees Usopp’s reclusive girlfriend, and is very confused as to why people think she isn’t real. Still a literal child (is 15 still a child? Yeah that's like barely a teenager), a goddamn prodigy and got in with an incredibly good recommendation from the best doctor in the country, who just so happens to be his adoptive mother. He’s literally too cute for anyone to question that, plus he’s the sharpest tack in the damn class. He knocked his front tooth out ages ago (it was an adult tooth) but he's too fucking busy to get an appointment to get it fixed, just adds another layer to his babyface. Nice girls keep asking him if he's here to go see his parents or older siblings, he's endlessly infuriated by it and Sanji is endlessly jealous. Saved Ed from choking to death in a Domino's parking lot the first time they met, he dropped his pizza doing it so they bought him another. The rest is history. Does not feel cold, wears chunky boots year round. Got them reflective ass eyes like a deer, no one has ever taken a good picture of this child. He looks fucking possessed in his school ID.

TELL ME WHY I ALMOST FORGOT TO DRAW CHOPPER. I finished drawing Franky and was like "gee, only Brook and Jimbei to go! Good for me," and then I had to pause while looking as the picture of the group I was semi-referencing for heights n shit and was like "OH FUCK THE CHILD—" He's so cute tho. He's giving lil baby Goro Akechi. The argyle sweater vest and Timbs were a must, so was his hockey boy haircut. Matching backpack and tie for the win. Oh and the freckles, Chopper with freckles is everything to me.

Robin — Has a million hyper specific degrees. Currently earning her third doctorate.

Very mysterious and sexy. Mature student who occasionally gives lectures in the archeology program when she has free time. Owns a motorcycle but barely rides it. How is she not in debt after so much schooling? Don't fucking ask if you want to live. Is that why she lives in the dorm building? Do. Not. Ask. She and Luffy attend the same Theology class, no one knows how Luffy is passing with such good grades, but Robin is adamant that he doesn't take notes or borrow hers, and takes to having the same scores as him with grace. Child actor on one of those show like Barney (but not Barney dear lord) or Reading Rainbow and people only knew her as 'that kid with the creepy fuckin stare.' She was a meme a few years back, they called her the devil child. Every time someone asks her about it she just says she has no idea what they're talking about while giving them the creepy stare.

Women with Big Bags truther, right here. Robin deserves to be put in a suit. Goddamnit, get that woman in a suit!

Franky — Has a bachelors of Engineering, a bachelors of Architecture, and is earning his (water specific) Architecture degree

Currently the groups designated driver (after the tragic death of the poor Merry) with his supped up SUV, the Sunny. How do all the Strawhats fit inside? The power of love, obviously. That car will NOT fucking move if even one of the seatbelts is undone. Made Ed and Luffy wedding rings after he found out they accidentally got married. (Only after laughing for a half our straight, almost passing out, and laughing again. Then he cried for another hour about how beautiful it was.) He sometimes works as a nude model for life drawing classes on campus. Half of the the Strawhats have, in one way or another, seen him in the buck. Has knee braces from an... incident... with a train when he was younger. Now he volunteers at KidsAbility and has a shift on the campus crisis/suicide hotline. Huge advocate for mental health services at the school. He lives in the dorms for the ✨experience✨. Even worse than Luffy, mf wears booty shorts in the dead of winter. He's constantly dressed like It's laundry day. One of those guys from a famous Vine when he was younger that just gets stopped while he's walking so people can go "TRAMPOLINE VASE GUY??" (Iceberg was recording. I love Iceberg.)

Yes Franky is wearing an I ♥ MILFs shirt, what of it? It was a gift. Drawing him was an exercise in struggling with the pompadour and getting uncomfortably close to drawing Syndrome. Yes, he's cold all the time. No, he will not stop.

Brook — Literally no one knows. Something music related probably.

Fucker has been around forever, there’s old ass profs who swear to god they went to school with him and he hasn’t aged a day. Regularly plays local bars and cafes. Doesn't own a cellphone, he can literally only operate rotary phones. Computers confuse the shit out of him. Knows nothing about pop culture or recent events, but is up to date on everything in the music industry. He sometimes helps organize the old library archives because he's somehow the only person who understands the system they're organized in. Sometimes he'll just namedrop a famous singer/band he's either played with, done karaoke with, or done background vocals/instrumentals for and you have to guess whether he's telling the truth or just saying shit. There's a campus wide betting pool (run by Nami and Ed, go figure) on whether he's a vampire, ghost, time traveler, or Dorian Gray in disguise. Prepares the questions for 70s night pub trivia. Every time the Strawhats plan a ghost hunt he's busy, then at the end they find out that all the paranormal shit they've been experiencing is just him running his errands. It's happened at least four times.

Is Brook off-putting enough? I was trying to make him off-putting. He swears up and down the neck tattoo was gotten on a dare by Elton John, what, you gonna question a man who looks like he stepped out of Coraline? The skeleton gloves were a gift from Ed.

Jimbei — Has already graduated as a Marine Biology major Political Science minor and is taking both a Gender Studies course and a Peace and Conflict Studies course years later.

Teaches martial arts at a local dojo on weekends and volunteers with the martial arts team on campus. Robin helps him organize protests on weekends. He's good buds with a lot of the faculty and gets invited to after work drinks regularly. He helped establish a program that walks people who stay late at the library to their dorms when he was first a student that's still going strong to this day. Lives off campus and has the Strawhats over for BBQ on long weekends. Literally the only time the Strawhats eat food not made by Sanji. The Grill Master™. Somehow holds some kind of record or high score at every single bar/pub in town. Knows every single mailman and janitor by name. MVP of the catch and release fishing club, helps plan all of their trips.

I struggled with him. I struggled hard. That's a man who went his whole childhood with a horrendous underbite and only got it fixed once he was an adult. Ed gave him the fishing lure earrings out of guilt after he brought them on one of his fishing trips and they fell in and nearly capsized their boat. IT'S A REUSED PLASTIC BAG JIMBEI IS RESPONSIBLE ABOUT THE ENVIRONMENT—

[gremlingottoosilly]

A bomb threat (And how it got you a boyfriend) special forces!Konig x fem!college!Reader

Konig saves you from a bomb threat when you get stuck at your Uni. Based on his bio - presumably, Konig was a part of the Austrian Special Forces before joining KorTac. He is also a bit of a dork and we have a bit of an obsessive episode.

Tags: Fluff, Reader is a cringefailure, Konig is overstepping his authority, hurt(not really)/comfort Warnings: Bomb threats, mentions of terrorism Word count: 2450

Someone called a bomb threat in your college. 

Well, at least, this is what the automatic email is telling you. The email that was sent to you, about especially avoiding the library on the second floor because the anonymous(not for long, since they have a knack for exposing who the hell is calling those threats each time) caller said that there is a huge chance of the bomb being placed here. 

You know, the same library that you were sitting in, right now, reading this exact email on your laptop. You thought no one was around because it wasn’t a busy day, just after the major finals, with most people staying on campus only if they failed first tests or just wanted to get extra credits for some extra curriculum. Even if you were staying here just because you wanted to work on campus’s newspaper – the library is a good place to scoop for some rumors about the dean of the uni being three raccoons in a trench coat, or the lunch staff posing as Polish mafia. 

The thing is – it seemed like you were the last fucking person to receive the email. The thing is, there are only a few weeks left before summer break, and the campus already started to turn off major announcement equipment since no sports or other events are planned. Are you going to die? Probably, there is a huge chance of you dying, as you can feel directly in your bones – god, there are probably some terrorists or uni shooters or that weird Christian suprematist who are going hysterical at the mere sight of religion other than theirs. You are going to die, you are going to die, you are going to…

— Scheisse! There is a civilian! 

You were never particularly religious, maybe only at the time of finals and work submissions – and in situations like this, where you are already mentally preparing yourself to get blown up with unfinished articles and forgotten hopes and dreams and everything and…

You were never particularly religious – so you have no idea why your pre-death auditory hallucinations suddenly included an angel’s voice with devil's timbre and some huge, tree-trunk-like hands wrapping around your waist, checking you for possible injuries or explosive device. 

These hands are really huge – and muscular, you can see how tense they are even through your black uniform, and they are roaming over your body in a way that would make you scream bloody murder and file sexual harassment if it didn’t belong to an obvious angel. Angelm in special forces uniform, an angel with a really nice boyish voice and warm hands that are sliding to your thighs, groping and checking for every possible outcome – for weapons, probably, because you are literally the only person in the room that was deemed as a bomb threat, and if you were this guy, you’d also think that you were the culprit. 

His fingers linger on your hips perhaps a bit too long – you can him patting you down like you were heading to a club – and then he lets you go reluctantly, not finding anything except for your phone which he also checked for possible timers. The interaction lasted…a minute or so, but you are already hot and bothered, getting off the strong hands holding you, even though he already let you go. 

— Are you alright? 

He must have noticed your worried face and international student badge – his English is a bit accented but nonetheless confident. You never thought that small traces of German in a speech can sound so fucking hot but, perhaps, you are just traumatized and high on adrenaline and weren't getting laid for too fucking long. 

He wears a badge – something something long German words, huge design construction that made you think he must be pretty high-rank – knowledge that you only had because of the movies and games you were playing, trying not to get off the military kink too much. Something in the situation told you that you’d spend the whole evening searching for porn with guys dressed in all black today. Maybe, a touch of cargo. 

— Y…yeah. Fuck, sorry. I’m fine, fine. Yeah. 

You are rambling and he tilts his head to the side. This large, looming hand goes to your face – you wait for either a harsh slap to return you back to reality, or a passionate and deep kiss from your fantasies and dirty novels. He slowly traces his fingers on your face, getting up, in the hairline, searching for something – perhaps, a nasty head parasite that got you acting so weird around this random guy. Random guy who is just doing his job, securing that you’re safe, sound, and not going to explode in the next few minutes. 

— No head injuries. Gut. 

You want him to touch your face some more. You want him to check for mouth injuries, to evaluate the status of your lips. Maybe do some chemical tests with that gloss you were using today. Check the reaction with his tongue. 

He twirls you in place and you almost want him to press you against the wall. Search you some more, maybe get his hands a bit deeper, pass the oh-so-modest pants that made you look like a little bitch boy – his hand goes to cup your waist again, checking for anything that might catch his interest. Nothing – and you were never this sad about Hot wearing a concealed weapon that might force him to pin you down or get you into a chokehold with those massive biceps of his. 

— What were you doing here, ma’am? 

Studying in Vienna, you never found an Austrian accent this sexy. Never knew that you might like being handled like this before – it’s not romantic, not even in the slightest, but you smile a bit shyly, a bit awkwardly, and look at him from under your lashes, trying to look as innocent as possible. You are innocent – you weren’t doing anything, you were just trying to study and write in the last few weeks. Concentrated enough, so you never even noticed a fucking bomb threat. Didn’t hear soldiers running through the building, securing each room. 

— I…study here? 

You gulp loudly, taking a few steps away from the soldier. Allowing him to examine the room, deem it safe – the bomb threat called on your university was probably fake. Maybe a call from a paranoid individual, maybe someone with nothing better to do than pranking colleges. You seriously doubt anyone would try to blow up this place while almost none of the students are actually inside – especially the library during the low season. Even you almost decided to ditch the traditional writing atmosphere and just do something in the cafeteria. 

— Oh. 

His voice actually sounds…nice. Funny even, that small remark also makes him cough and look at you more seriously. He has a mask concealing his face, some weird hood or net on top of it – you try to see his eyes, but you can only occasionally catch glimpses of ice staring at you. Mysterious, you like it. Too mysterious, that little journalist club member inside of you is itching to get a look at his face better – you tilt your head to the side, contemplating just yanking it upwards and praying that he won’t kill you. 

Although you wouldn’t mind being crushed in his hold. 

— Let’s get you out of here, ja? 

You don’t question him when he suddenly picks you up – when the world starts to spin and you are pressed against his chest, his hands are supporting you under your knees and back. Securing you in place, making sure you are nice and comfy in his hold. You don’t ask questions when he slightly adjusts your hold so he can touch more of your thighs – you think he is just getting you comfortable, and you appreciate just how thoughtful he is. 

You don’t ask questions when he holds you almost like a bridal carry, even though you are certain you aren’t injured, and someone like him probably has more interesting things to do than saving poor college students who decided to ignore bomb threats. 

His hands are warm, his chest is even warmer, and his muscles aren’t even slightly trembling. You don’t know what sort of training those guys are coming through, but it must work – his steps are light and decided even when he can’t press you firmly against him, vest standing in the way. You don’t know what to do with your hands and you don’t want to mess with the government property – you think there is a law against fidgeting with special forces soldiers on duty – so you just get them on your knees. Like a good girl. Polite girl. Girl who isn't drooling over the guy who is just doing his job. 

— Thank you. For saving me. 

You whisper it in his headset – you are worried about someone else also hearing you, but there is something intimate about tilting your head upwards and getting right into his face, your lips millimeters away from the edge of his mask. You don’t want to sound suggestive, so you sound weak instead. You don’t to sound ungrateful, so you sound pleading instead. 

His hold on your thighs gets stronger. You lick your lips nervously, chuckling to ease the atmosphere a little bit. 

Your leg brushes above his waist – and you swear that you can hear his breath hitching. It’s impossible, you think, he must be a tough and content little soldier, perfect to save damsels in distress just like you – but something in his posture, in the way his fingers twitch slightly at the edges of your body, makes you think otherwise. Maybe, you’re just dreaming. Maybe, you know nothing. 

Someone slams into the room. Another man – shorter than the one who holds you, by a large margin, but none less intimidating. Burly, muscular, dressed up in full uniform which is expected – and with his face covered up by a similar veil or mask or whatever this is – which is unexpected. You thought that special forces would have something less eye-obscuring, but what do you know? You would be dead if the bomb threat was real. 

— Other sectors secured. No bomb in sight. Commander. 

He almost hisses, the similar accent in his voice makes your cheeks heat up even more. You feel weird, dirty even, thinking of those two large, intimidating men in such an intimate setting while they are just trying to save your life – but you try to silence that little annoying voice, to convince yourself that this is probably just adrenaline, ovulation and sudden urge to procreate before you would die. 

You feel your entire body stir when the man takes a step closer, looking at you. You can’t see his face, not even the outline of it – but you feel the burning gaze on your scared expression and obediently folded hands. 

— Gut. Other civillians? — 20 civilians in the building in total. University workers, some students. Already evacuated. — Any casualties? You hear a cruel chuckle from a shorter man. — If they were, you’d hear about it, sir. No, the sector is clear. — Gut. Dismissed – we’re finishing here. — What are you doing with the civi…

— Kruger, dismissed. 

The man who holds you is surprisingly stern when he isn’t talking to you. He used a much softer, quieter tone when he was talking to you, observing if you were hurt or in danger – and he is much, much different now. A cold voice, serious tone, the image of the ruthless commander flying in your head – well, at least you were right about his patches meaning something important. 

A shorter man leaves, and the door behind him swings open. To your surprise, the man who holds you – a mysterious stranger, you can’t even seem to find a name on his uniform – doesn’t let you go. His touches feel like you’re burning alive, he is igniting and brilliant and fucking perfect and…

He lets you down to the care of the local police department and some of the uni workers. His hand brushes over your face again – you think he was checking for the injuries but, then again, why would he touch your hair ever so gently only to move it out of your face to take a good look at your lips before letting you go? You’re imagining things, you probably must be – the man is just doing his job, he isn’t trying to fuck you in the nearest hallway even if you wanted him to. 

— Sir. I…thank you, really. For the help. 

— I didn’t do anything, Schatz. Someone must been playing a joke on everyone. 

You are going to find the guy – or a girl, or someone else, you don’t discriminate, everyone is equally capable of calling on the false bomb threats – who informed the special forces about the bomb in the building, and then you are going to kiss them. 

— What kind of joke is this? 

— A dumb one. 

He looks over to his unit – a group of tall, burly men, with weapons and uniforms and everything a girl could ask for – already packing in the vehicles to move out. You brace yourself to ask for his number – for his contact, anything, everything, maybe the favorite tree in the park under which you could meet again. You know that those guys aren’t supposed to reveal their identities, that he is probably out of town anyway, special forces aren’t usually called off to false threats, you know that your attempts are futile and yet, you lick your lips for added confidence and…

— Goodbye, Scahtzen. Stay safe, ja? Don’t want to save you from a real bomb one day. 

— I…I…um, you mean you wouldn’t save me from a real bomb? 

He was already halfway to the armored car before you could say anything. You aren’t nearly confident enough to yell across the whole fucking campus territory to get a number of this hot special forces guy, and something in his hunched shoulders, twitching fingers, and slightly less social and more abrasive manners tells you that he would hate the gesture as much as you would. 

Just like this, your first even real-life military crush is driving away, leaving you bombless, hoeless, and, most certainly, more depressed than ever. Summer is going to be great, right?

*** — What do you mean calling a fucking bomb threat?! 

Your friend wasn’t happy about the pick-up strategy you wanted to use.

*** — Of course, sir, let’s raid a fucking college dorm room. 

Sergeant Sebastian Josed Krueger wasn’t happy about his commander’s newfound love for college girls. 

Mostly because König refused to fucking share. 

[panther-os]

beating my head against the walls in Latine

here's eight things that atp will have me immediately closing out of any fic, AleRudy edition:

1.

❌ "the los vaqueros"

ah yes the famed and feared las almas battalion of Mexican special forces. the the cowboys

✅ "los vaqueros"

✅ "the vaqueros"

2.

❌ "the los vaqueros base"

✅ "los vaqueros' base"

✅ "the vaqueros' base"

3.

❌ "corporal alejandro vargas and sergeant rodolfo parra/major rodolfo parra"

look, fuck the military as an institution and also fuck the devs for using American rank structure for members of the Mexican army but

it takes roughly 2 years in the army to advance to Corporal. the equivalent in the Mexican army is Cabo, and Google will not give me the requirements for it no matter how I ask

it takes 3-6 years to advance to Sergeant. From what I can tell, the Mexican equivalent is also Cabo (where Sargento Segundo is closer to Staff Sergeant)

it takes 10-12 years to advance to Major, the equivalent is Mayor (not the English word mayor like of a city, don't be like those white people)

it takes 22-24 years, a bachelor's degree, and officer school to become a Colonel and it takes 18-20 years and a whole mess of leadership courses nearly equivalent to a degree to become a Sergeant Major

put some goddamn respect on their names

✅ Colonel Alejandro Vargas and Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra

✅ Coronel Alejandro Vargas and Sargento Primero Rodolfo Parra

4.

❌ Fuerza Especiales

❌ Fuerzas Especiale

this is just not understanding Spanish grammar

✅ Fuerzas Especiales ("Special Forces")

❎ Fuerza Especial ("special force")

5.

❌ Sin Nombre ("without name")

Alejandro literally corrects Soap on this one in the game

✅ El Sin Nombre ("The Nameless")

6.

❌ "Alejandro Vargas, leader of Mexican Special Forces"

the leader of Mexican Special Forces is the Secretaría de la Defensa Nacional - the Secretary of Defense - and Fuerzas Especiales is composed of three brigades, 74 independent battalions (like Los Vaqueros), 36 amphibious special operations groups. Colonels command single brigades at most.

Alejandro is capable of leading Mexican Special Forces, but it would require him to retire from the field and get more of a desk job, with far more politics than I think he'd have patience for

✅ "Alejandro Vargas, leader of Los Vaqueros - a battalion of Fuerzas Especiales stationed in Las Almas"

7.

❎ "our ancestors, the Aztecs"

look, indigenous identity is weird sometimes and I don't know enough specifics about the culture around it in Mexico to have a solid opinion, but I'm also very fucking tired of people thinking the only indigenous groups in Mexico are the Nahua (Aztecs) and Maya. if they're on the Texas border and their families have always lived there, their heritage is most likely seven different Apache nations/language groups in a trench coat with some Spanish conquistador on the side. they're most likely not related to any famous indigenous chiefs or other figures, but it's very possible they can trace their Spanish ancestry back directly to nobility

for example, I am related to absolutely none well-known Tsalagi or Kwikipa people as far as I'm aware, but I am a direct descendant of the brother of King Ferdinand the Catholic, which also means I'm a direct descendant of the guy who started the Inquisition (and now I'm Jewish (and pro-Palestine for those who want to know) so take that, colonizer)

also while Bayardo is Mexicano, Alain is Cubano, please be respectful when talking about the actors or when in their instagram lives and just. don't make assumptions y'all

8.

❎ "Los Vaqueros" is a nickname from the people of Las Almas, the battalion's actual name that is on all the paperwork and dog tags is more likely numerical or describing their role/location - like "11th Battalion" or "The Borderline Battalion" or something like that. maybe even both, like "The 11th Border Battalion"

[whencyclopedia]

Discovery of Troy

In his epic poems, the Iliad and the Odyssey, the Greek poet Homer (c. 750 BCE) told the story of the Trojan War, a ten-year siege of the city of Troy by an alliance of Greek city-states. Troy was also known by its Latinised name of Ilium and was located on the northwest coast of Anatolia (modern-day Turkey).

The city was continuously inhabited from the Early Bronze Age (c. 3000-2200 BCE) for around 4,000 years until two major earthquakes destroyed Troy in 1300 CE, and it fell into decline. Archaeological finds suggest that a small Byzantine community lived at Troy in the 12th century CE, but the powerful kingdom of Homer's epics was lost to history, although it remained in the popular imagination.

In the 19th century, Hisarlik was widely believed to be the site of ancient Troy. Its location on a hill near Tevfikiye in the Dardanelles, which connects the Aegean to the Black Sea, was a strategically important position because it commanded a major trading route. Archaeologists started to excavate the strata or layers of the different settlements, which, over time, had formed a mound or tell 20 m (65 ft) in height, and these layers are labelled Troy I to Troy IX. To date, nine cities and 46 levels of occupation have been unearthed, showing that there was no single Troy but a succession of civilisations that occupied the area.

Whether the Trojan War was a Late Bronze Age (c. 1700-1000 BCE) historical event or merely Greek mythology remains the subject of scholarly debate, but the city of Homer's Iliad is generally accepted to have been found and is associated with three famous archaeologists: Heinrich Schliemann, Wilhelm Dörpfeld, and Carl Blegen.

Heinrich Schliemann: Finding & Almost Losing Troy

Johann Ludwig Heinrich Julius Schliemann (1822-1890) achieved worldwide fame in 1873 when he claimed to have discovered Troy. Schliemann was a German businessman and a pioneer archaeologist (although untrained) who was fascinated by the idea of Troy after seeing a picture of the city burning in a book entitled Weltgeschichte für Kinder ("World History for Children") when he was seven years old.

The son of an impoverished Lutheran pastor and the fifth of seven children, Schliemann was an extraordinarily gifted linguist who spoke more than 15 languages and started travelling at an early age. He wanted to emigrate to South America and took a position as a cabin boy on board a vessel bound for La Guajira, Colombia, that was wrecked off the Dutch coast in 1841. He stayed in Amsterdam and worked as a bookkeeper for a city merchant, learning French, Dutch, and English – the main trading languages.

In 1846, Heinrich Schliemann became an agent for the German trading house B. H. Schröder & Co. and was sent to Saint Petersburg because he was the only Russian-speaking employee. This was the start of Schliemann's accumulation of his fortune, trading in indigo dye and saltpetre before arriving in California in 1851 and turning a multimillion-dollar profit during the Gold Rush.

Heinrich Schliemann retired in 1858 at the age of 36, having returned to Europe and marrying his first wife, Russian-born Ekaterina Petrovna Lyschin (1826-1896). He spent his time touring classical archaeology sites, and in 1868, Schliemann met Frank Calvert (1828-1908), a British expatriate diplomat whose Levantine English family owned land in Hisarlik, which included the eastern half of the Hisarlik mound (the western half belonged to the Turkish government).

Calvert studied the site, excavated trenches, and was convinced he had found Homeric Troy, but he lacked the finances to conduct further digging seasons. Calvert invited Schliemann to dinner, recognising that the German businessman was backed by an enormous fortune and a fierce determination to find Troy. The two men embarked on a partnership, and Heinrich Schliemann began excavations in 1870, bringing along his much younger second wife, Greek-born Sophia Engastromenou (1852-1932), whom he married in 1869 after divorcing Ekaterina.

Schliemann's excavation methods have been called into question. Employing 80 to 160 unskilled workers daily, Schliemann and his team dug a 14 m (45 ft) trench through the centre of the tell, tossing aside earth and building rubble from layers he considered too late in time to be Troy. Schliemann assumed the lowest layer (Troy 1) was the city of Troy, so destroying the 'real Troy' that was later identified in the upper layers. Pickaxes, shovels, and dynamite were used, and the site was very nearly destroyed, leading many professional scholars to accuse Heinrich Schliemann of being more a treasure hunter than an archaeologist. Kenneth Harl, a classical scholar, said in his Asia Minor lecture series that Schliemann did what the Greeks could not: razed the city walls.

In May 1873, Schliemann claimed to have discovered "Priam's treasure," a hoard of gold, valuable artefacts, and jewellery, including the famed golden diadem (royal headdress) worn by his wife, Sophia, in a photograph taken in 1874. Schliemann equated Priam's Treasure with the riches mentioned in Book 24 of the Iliad. Priam's Treasure was found in Troy II – a layer showing evidence of fire – but Priam would have been the king of Troy during the time of Troy VI (1750-1300 BCE) or Troy VIIa (c. 1300-1180 BCE).

Controversy focused on Schliemann's diaries of the dig, which were incomplete. He also misidentified artefacts, and the dates when some of his discoveries were unearthed are vague. This led to accusations, among them being that Heinrich Schliemann did not tell the truth and combined his findings with artefacts found elsewhere on the site. Schliemann habitually drew any object he found, but Priam's Treasure was photographed instead, and not one of the artefacts was mentioned in early documentation. Did Schliemann's single-minded pursuit of legendary Troy lead him to falsify his discoveries? This is a question that has been asked ever since, and it was not helped by Schliemann later admitting that he had sensationalised the account of his wife, Sophia, being present when Priam's Treasure was found. She was, in fact, in Athens with her family following the death of her father.

Schliemann then smuggled Priam's Treasure (around 8,000 objects) out of Turkey. Most of the collection went to the Neues Museum in Berlin, and during World War II (1939-1945), it was hidden beneath the Berlin Zoo. Soviet soldiers discovered the bounty, and it was taken to Moscow and displayed at the Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts, where the majority of the artefacts are still held. Priam's Treasure has been dated to 2200 BCE or earlier, and this is 1,000 years older than Homeric Troy. Schliemann also crated up pottery, gold jewellery, bronze kettles, and figurines and shipped them to Europe or sold artefacts to private collectors.

In 1876, the Turkish government brought a lawsuit against Schliemann, who promptly left the country and headed to Greece, where he began excavations at Mycenae. Here he discovered the Greek Bronze Age "Mask of Agamemnon," the gold leaf funeral mask of the famous king of ancient Mycenae who led the Greek army in the Trojan War of Homer's Iliad. This find has also met with controversy, with some critics accusing Schliemann of having the mask forged. Modern archaeological research suggests that the separated eyebrows of the mythological king of Mycenae are stylistically different from other death masks found at the site.

Nevertheless, Heinrich Schliemann became an international celebrity, spending over 20 years and seven digging seasons at Troy, deepening and widening what is known as Schliemann's Trench and destroying valuable material in the process. He never credited Frank Calvert, who perhaps may be considered the true discoverer of Homeric Troy.

Although Schliemann's archaeological methods were often brutal, he is considered the founder of modern field archaeology, but it took the work of another archaeologist, one who pioneered stratigraphic excavation, to shift Schliemann's focus from the lower to the upper layers of Troy.

Continue reading...

[antimony-medusa]

God, I need to not just dump all of it into atthebell's comments and make my own post, but like, the idea that people mischaracterize for the purposes of shipping is true and a feature of every fandom I've seen, but the idea that that is unique to shipping and gen is somehow protected from it is ludicrously untrue.

I have been in the TRENCHES looking for stuff of my guys that's even reasonably close to character, and at this point it's noteworthy when I run across gen stuff that lets Phil swear. Philza. Mr. "sorry if You're learning english from me I fuckin' swear a fuckton" minecraft. They don't even write Techno as funny. They don't even write Techno as sarcastic. You think platonic beeduo "bee boy" Tubbo on the verge of tears because someone was mean to Ranboo is somehow the peak of characterization?

There are five hundred and thirteen fics in the "baby tommyinnit" tag. There are two hundred and eleven platonic fics tagged both "Philza" and "Daddy Issues". You think gen fics are better at characterization and sticking to canon? Twelve thousand nine hundred and eighty fics in "sleepy boys inc as family", a dynamic that Technoblade actively didn't like and decanonized. LOOK AT ME STANDING HERE IN HELL AND TELL ME AGAIN THAT GEN DOES A BETTER JOB OF RESPECTING THE CHARACTERS.

deep breath

The gen characterization of the majority of DSMP fics is so so far from canon, like— it can still be fun, I can still be having a good time, but it is noteworthy when I hit someone who is characterizing in a way that's true to canon. If you rely on Gen to characterize properly just innately, you simply have only been reading the good stuff. Do you know how many fics are in the tag? Do you know? Do you think they're all the good stuff? Do you think everybody writing "[x] as found family" is paying close attention to character? Are they, perhaps, just writing the stuff that makes them feel happy and the cubitos are just vessels for that? This happens in gen fics and this happens in ship stuff. I feel like my brain is on fire here.

And I've read ship stuff that's really good character studies! The interaction of people's relationships and what that does to their charcter is not like, magically repelled by the presence of kissing. The problem is not "shipping", the problem is "bad writing", or simply just writing that isn't interested in characterization, and that shows up any time you get a mass of writers writing.

[e-rated-beardo]

2024 fic roundup

@cheeseplants created this ask/tag game, and I've been tagged by @addledmongoose and @harlotofupdog, here we gooo

What fandoms do you write in?

200% Good Omens. First proper fandom experience. First thing that forced (aye, forced) me to write a fanfic. Huge obsession.

If I were to write for anything else, it might be Our Flag Means Death, or Doctor Who, or perhaps House M.D. or some flavour of Star Trek. Or a crossover between one of those and GO. I'm a completely normal amount of obsessed with Aziraphale and Crowley.

How many words have you published in 2024?

*goes to ao3 stats page*

*hits "2024"*

...220,232 words

What the whole entire fuck!?

And there's another three chapters left on Scorn to go before New Year's, so we'll comfortably surpass 231k. How in the actual fuck is that possible.

What is your greatest achievement this year?

Getting this comment:

What are your favourite top three fics you wrote this year?

Not Single Spies (the third part of Nice And Ominous, which can be read on its own or with the two preceding parts); The Co-pilot; and I'm going to say Scorn and the Saint-Maker, although that's far from finished, because it's been the entirety of my past half-year.

Not Single Spies (part III of Nice And Ominous: a reluctant eschatology of the Second Attempt) Rated E; 61k words Second Coming/post-S2 fic; plot-driven

A man with pale hair turns up in Saint Peter's Square, naked and without memory, and Crowley's old sense of Aziraphale's location snaps like a twig. Heaven is down another Supreme Archangel—but the new Christ is already on Earth (in France, to be precise) and the Second Coming is well underway. And Crowley works for Hell now, but really, he works for the good of humanity; pulling on every friend he has to stop the end of the world.

There is some smut in this, but it's only three sections and they're all skippable. The rest of the story is rated T with no major warnings.

The Co-pilot Rated E; 4k words Human-ish AU; shameless smut

An un-English heatwave, a few open shirt buttons and the demonic entity possessing an innocent Londoner conspire to make long-time friends Az and Tony finally get over themselves and bone.

Scorn and the Saint-Maker Rated E; 97k words so far (WIP) Human not-actually-AU; sorta-post-S2; plot-driven, smutty, mathsy; four plots in a trench coat

Doctor Crowley has turned truancy into an art form, lecturing only under sufferance. Doctor Fell has signed up for his undergraduate course and has no plans to let him slack off. When a faculty member is found dead, our heroes start forming uneasy suspicions. What was the occult symbol drawn next to the body? Why does it feel like they’ve known each other forever? How is Crowley supposed to tell police that he thinks the murderer is a demon he summoned 35 years ago? And what about that statue that’s the spitting image of the victim?

They've been turned human. Now they're academics in Scotland. Romance, weirdness and (skippable!) smut ensue. The fic has some warnings, so check the tags.

What was your biggest pit of despair moment?

I had a nasty week in August, when I got depressive symptoms as a side effect of a necessary medication and spent ~10 days convinced everything I did was shit.

I'm also kind of in one at the moment, but without the pharmaceutical explanation/excuse. I'm just... urgh. Things are stuck. It's. It's a thing. Idk.

What have you learned?

You're expecting me to list everything I've learnt related to writing and fandom and fandom writing in less than an entire academic essay? Are you out of your entire mind!? (❤️)

Big things: I've learnt that I do have the capacity to finish big stories; that things I write are good enough that people want to read them and look forward to reading them and give me all these amazing compliments on them and go slightly feral sometimes; and that if I'm enthusiastic enough about maths, I can trick some folks who didn't even like maths into sort of liking maths.

Smaller things: A smattering of fancy vocabulary. How to paint with watercolour. How to draw Michael Sheen's nose and David Tennant's lower lip. The fact that I have a massive praise kink. More than I knew there was to know about em-dashes and en-rules. Heaps of random facts about the Bible, angels, demonology, poetry, Scotland Yard, Shakespeare, wine, dicks, queer identities I don't have, and queer identities I do have. And a bunch about how to watch/read/consume media with my eyes open and my brain switched on.

What fic did you want to do but never made it off the ground?

I still low-key want to continue The Co-pilot into... something. And That Berry Ice Cream from last December has been sort of asking for a follow-up, which just hasn't happened.

I had this idea, shortly after that week in November that the Americans don't like to think about, for something short, snappy, and a little cathartic; a fuck the system-type deal, both to that political shitshow and to all the sad crap fucking over the GO fandom lately, and I started to write it but got stuck not even a thousand words in. Maybe it just wasn't that good of an idea.

Did you beta any fics? Any favs you want to shout out?

I did my first toe-dipping of a beta read just the other month, for Easy Access by @ModernDayKlutz. I've not dared to jump into beta:ing properly for fear that my old flakiness will resurface and make me disappoint a person I've made a promise to, but this one seemed contained enough that I felt I could contribute. Especially with Kilt Knowledge���️.

What three fics have you read this year that you love?

THREE!??!?

All right, so I'm looking through my bookmarks, and, as it turns out, That Fic I Keep Recommending Basically All The Time was one I only read - or at least, finished reading - early this year!

Mint Tea by @copperplatebeech - 31.5k words; rated E - is one of those fics that half the fandom have heard about, right? I don't know if it happened to hit me at a formative point in my fandom life or if it's simply That Good, which is also very likely, but thirsty-well-hung-Dom!Crowley lives in my head for free and will not move out, it seems. It's scorching and funny and sweet, and when I say it gave me the idea to try some... things... which I hadn't tried before, in... certain parts of my life... 🔥🫠

Fanfic, uh... changes lives, y'all! Ahem, well then, onwards:

Come as you are by hiya_angel - 4k words, rated E - this gave me some of the experience reflected in that gorgeous comment above. The angst is minimal and the smut is gorgeous and wonderfully sweet and I adore this fandom for making me feel hope again and again for all this trans stuff that's still comparatively new to me.

Submitted for Your Consideration by @zehwulf - 19k words, rated E - contains possibly the most spectacular description of subspace I've read in... ever? And when it comes to bowling me over with porn, I could probably just pick anything by ZehWulf because whatever story I pick up it ends with me sitting there absolutely sweating. And feeling fuzzy inside. And maybe also crying for joy.

HERE'S A FOURTH ACTUALLY, YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME:

Lucid by @twilightcitysky - 35k words, rated E. It's unfinished and I barely even care at this point, because something about this fic changed me. It's So. Fucking. Good. It's one of those (rare? Not in this fandom! But a little rare, probably) stories where the smut is absolutely plot-crucial. It's also excruciatingly clever and angstier than I thought I would like (I was wrong! I LIKE IT) and the characters are great. And it's written just beautifully.

What ideas are percolating for next year?

More Scorn. (Don't trust the projected chapter count. Knowing myself, there'll be more of them. Or I might be done with less. It's a completely unqualified approximation.)

More Co-pilot, maybe? (I have Ideas.)

A slightly more fantastical fic that goes into a smut genre I haven't really explored at all before. And which has made me research goats' pupils.

Plus, I want to look into making podfics more. Maybe get better at it. Maybe even try out doing voice work for money? (I'm talking to a guy, it's completely wild, but damn it might be a thing I could do)

Who do you want to thank?

@addledmongoose (quite unintentionally) brought me to Tumblr. (She wrote a review of Nice And Ominous, and it was so lovely, I wanted to go there and like it and respond to it properly, so I just had to create an account, you know? No other options.) I'm so glad I'm here.

@bakingcat made excitable comments about my linguistics-nerdery-snuck-into-sex-scene and made me realise you can actually make friends in fandom.

@klikandtuna wrote the fic which I was a completely normal amount of obsessed with this summer, and which led to (via an instance of fanwork of the fanwork) me being flooded with love from strangers one random Friday and getting put in contact with that voice work guy. We also had the most wonderfully grown-up conversation about a tricky thing, for which I am so very proud and grateful.

@harlotofupdog came straight over to read Scorn almost right when I started posting it - I can't quite remember now, but the timing isn't the important bit - and wrote some absolutely glorious comments. D'you know you're the first writer whose work I'd already been painfully obsessed with, who's also expressed obsession with mine? D'you know how bloody cool that is??

And finally the unhinged smutgoblins of The Beta Fishes The Big Fucks server - idk who to thank anymore because I can't recall who invited me (it was past 3am and I'd just watched Michael Sheen shirtless for an hour, you'll have to forgive a guy) but all of y'all are weirdos and I love to hang out with yous and draw dicks and discuss writing and scream about Rivals and definitely not put mustaches on anyone.

No-pressure tags (in addition to everyone tagged above - please feel free to consider yourselves tagged-tagged if you like) without checking who's already been tagged in this before, because that's A Lot of Work that I don't want to do:

@wiblywoblytimeywimey754 @brenna @majnoonathelibrarian annnnd @kiratastic, pretty sure this could be modified to work for an art perspective too? Right? (If you want)

[afantasyoffiction]

a lil intro :)

hi hello to anyone who's checking this out!

i’m caitlin, an aspiring fantasy writer and maybe poet, english literature nerd and general fandom weirdo who likes to talk a lot about all my many many obsessions :)

i'm new to actively participating on this site as opposed to watching thru the window of pinterest...but now that i write more and 9-1-1 in particular doesn't post on pinterest so much, i'm on here too rip

i talk about: writing, procrastinating writing, reading writing and characters in writing who drive me insane!

my writing: i write poetry which i will post on here occasionally! but my main writing that is intended for other ppl to read is fanfic, and my fantasy wip:

my fics that you can go read literally right now if you want:

just to sit outside your door - buddie post-hiatus wip

if I glued myself shut (you would find your way in) - buck's pov during the 'are his concerns your concerns', feeling realisation

you've haunted me so stunningly - eddie pov during the post -lightning convo w buck, based on that amazing edit making the rounds rn

just to sit outside of your (ipad screen) light - eddie post-hiatus mini fic, feelings realisation

the witches wip: a ya fantasy book (one day trilogy i hope!) about a world where witches are gone, but persecution of them isn't. trying to save her innocent sister from execution, my fmc gets dragged into a storm of political plotting, conflicting agendas and strange powers beyond her comprehension. a book about family, and realising that what you thought was a bedtime story might still be around to haunt you... tagged with #the witches wip

my ao3: a_fantasy_2 - all the good stuff is copied above! tags are #shameless fanfic plug and #caitlin's original writing

main fandoms: i have been in a ridiculous number of fandoms so this is not all of them but these are my main ones - bold are ones im currently in the trenches abt :)

9-1-1 (pls no ship war content tho i just cannot)

marauders (my og loml one true fandom its a canon event i fear)

good omens (book and tv show changed my life)

anything leigh bardugo but SoC and RoW especially

supernatural (its been a while but then again i'm fandom posting on this site so its kinda a given)

anything by chloe gong....(message me PLEASE. best ya fantasy writer and my literal writing idol)

EPIC the musical - i love this so freaking much, if you don't know what this is go find out u won't regret it

hamilton (i am in fact hamiltrash, unfortunately)

aftg (im not writing that out. if you know what that acronym is thats on you.)

tagging system: i got one of those creepy teeth 'frequent poster badges', so i think it might be time for me to get one of these. ahem. on an incoherent blog, i declare order:

#caitlin writes and yaps abt it - writblr content (these will almost always have the 'writblr' and 'writers on tumblr' tag as well)

#caitlin's homebrew hallucinations - any writing or OC content from my wips or poetry i share

#the witches wip - specific wip content!

#caitlin the english major - literature posts

#caitlin reblogs from even cooler blogs and/or #caitlin's moot besties - reblogging my moots or other cool ppl!

#caitlin does ask games / #caitlin does reblog games - making a separate tag bc i LOVE these

#shameless fanfic plug - fics that i write on ao3 and want to share here

#caitlin rambles miscellaneous - anything else thats incoherent

fandom posts will all be tagged with their fandom and with #caitlin a fandom nerd

sound good? let me know if this actually makes this blog make any more sense mk team

please send me: asks/posts/comments about these fandoms, short fic writing prompts within these fandoms, writblr content, writing questions, or literature thoughts :)

(pls don’t send me requests for money or ai content. i will block and delete, here’s why. )

basically reach out if you just want to ramble about any of these things because what else is tumblr dot com for ... seriously what. actually what was this site made for it beats me

[rassberrylips]

hey! i just found your acct today and I LOVE YOU :)

if you're still doing the matchmaking thing, please could i get a match from hayden's characters?

here are some pointers about me :)

girlboss in stem geeky queen 👩‍🔬: i have ADHD but i'm still into maths, physics, and chem, but i’ve got a soft spot for psychology, photography and creative writing too!! i'm an engineering major at an ivy league now :)

cultural chameleom: i've lived all over the world, and i can speak 10 languages :) english, tamil, telugu, spanish, french, portuguese, italian, german, hindi—like, how do u even keep track?

creative baddie 🎨: been drawing for 14 years, my niche is pencils sketches and intricate artwork!! i'm getting into painting as well now and i've always been into tons of different art styles and crafting too <3

preppy princess: if it was not obvious by the tag i am your full on old-money preppy aesthetic. you know, ralph lauren jumpers, sleeved shirts, trench coats, pleated skirts all that stuff?

future ceo vibes: the dream NYC glamour + making six/seven figures in aerospace or finance while still having time for pilates and cooking!

other than that, im 5'7, sort of a hopeless romantic too and super extroverted and get along with everyone! i like some sports, like martial arts, swimming and volleyball, and i fence as well! i LOVE animals and my dream pet is a gorgeous golden retriever and im crying just thinking about it!!

i saw someone else say this, but my favourite seasons are spring and early summer :)

your match is ... aj (from takers) !!

♡ very old money very mob wife

♡ you are very important to the team

♡ he loves to be around you and you love to be around him

♡ you speak tons of languages which helps if they're scheming something international, your amazing at drawing so you draw up all these maps

♡ your also super smart so you can really help with anything

♡ love a good late night walk while everyone is at the drive in so its super quiet

♡ hanging out at the club/bar every night

♡ aj plays piano while you sit pretty and drink a martini

a glimpse into your relationship ...

a/n: sorry its so short and for the wait 💋 hope you enjoy xo

[httpsoftbunni]

The Friendship of C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien: From the Trenches of WWI to the Publication of The Lord of the Rings

Few friendships in literary history have been as influential as that between C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. Their shared experiences as soldiers in World War I, their scholarly careers at Oxford, and their mutual love for myth and storytelling helped shape two of the most iconic works of fantasy literature: The Chronicles of Narnia and The Lord of the Rings. Let’s explore the journey of their friendship, from the trenches of war to the creation of Middle-earth and Narnia.

Aftermath of WWI

Both Lewis and Tolkien’s experiences in World War I profoundly impacted their view of life, death, and, ultimately, faith. For J.R.R. Tolkien, faith was a lifelong anchor, and his Catholicism only deepened during the war. He saw the horrors of the battlefield as part of a greater cosmic struggle between good and evil—a theme that permeates The Lord of the Rings. For him, Middle-earth was a deeply Catholic work, though not in a preachy sense. Instead, his belief in providence, free will, sacrifice, and the corrupting nature of power is embedded in the story's fabric.

C.S. Lewis had a very different trajectory. As a young man, Lewis was an atheist, largely due to the suffering he witnessed in the war. He couldn’t reconcile a loving God with the violence and death around him. His loss of faith was intensified by the death of his mother at a young age. Lewis emerged from World War I skeptical of religion and consumed by philosophical and existential questions. Unlike Tolkien, who was more rooted in his belief system, Lewis’s spiritual journey took much longer and was fraught with doubt.

Meeting at Oxford

When Lewis and Tolkien first met at Oxford in the mid-1920s, faith wasn’t a major topic of conversation. Instead, their bond formed around a shared love of literature, mythology, and language. Both men were professors—Tolkien of Anglo-Saxon and Lewis of English literature—and they quickly found common ground in discussing ancient myths, Norse legends, and linguistic intricacies.

However, it wasn’t long before Tolkien’s faith became a crucial aspect of their friendship. Tolkien was dismayed by Lewis’s atheism and saw it as an intellectual and spiritual challenge. As their friendship deepened, Tolkien became instrumental in Lewis’s return to Christianity, though the road was long and complex.

A Conversation Changed Everything

One of the pivotal moments in both Lewis and Tolkien’s lives came in September 1931, during a late-night conversation that would later become legendary. Along with their friend Hugo Dyson, the three men took a long walk around Oxford’s Addison’s Walk, discussing mythology, literature, and theology.

Tolkien, passionate about the power of myth, argued that Christianity was the true myth. He suggested that, just as myths and legends conveyed profound truths through symbolic stories, Christianity was the ��myth become fact.” The story of Christ, he argued, had all the narrative power and beauty of ancient myths, but unlike them, it had actually happened in history. This idea struck a chord with Lewis, who had long admired the power of myth but had been skeptical of Christianity’s claims.

This conversation was a turning point for Lewis. Shortly after, he experienced a profound spiritual awakening and accepted the Christian faith, though he chose Anglicanism over Tolkien’s Roman Catholicism. This conversion would shape the rest of Lewis’s life and work, particularly in his writings on Christian apologetics like Mere Christianity and in The Chronicles of Narnia, where Christian themes are unmistakable.

Faith and Story-Telling

Faith became a deeply embedded aspect of both men’s creative work, though in very different ways. Tolkien, ever the subtle storyteller, wove his Catholic faith into The Lord of the Rings through its themes rather than through explicit symbolism. He once said that The Lord of the Rings is “a fundamentally religious and Catholic work, unconsciously so at first, but consciously in the revision.” Themes of redemption, grace, the power of free will, and the ultimate triumph of good over evil are central to the story. Characters like Frodo and Aragorn embody Christ-like self-sacrifice, while the corrupting influence of the One Ring echoes the concept of sin.

Tolkien’s depiction of evil is also rooted in his faith. Sauron, the Dark Lord, and the Ring itself represent more than just physical threats—they embody the corrupting nature of absolute power and the spiritual danger of succumbing to evil, much like the Christian concept of original sin.

Lewis, on the other hand, was more overt with his Christian allegory, especially in The Chronicles of Narnia. Aslan, the great lion, is an unmistakable Christ figure, sacrificing himself for Edmund’s betrayal and rising again to save Narnia. While Tolkien disliked allegory, preferring to let the underlying truths speak through the narrative, Lewis embraced it, using the magical land of Narnia to explore themes of resurrection, salvation, and the battle between good and evil in a way that was accessible to both children and adults.

Faith and Friendship

Faith, while it deepened their friendship in some respects, also introduced some strain. Tolkien was never entirely comfortable with Lewis’s Anglicanism and found his friend’s theological writings—particularly Mere Christianity—too simplistic and reductive. He also disliked the overt allegory in The Chronicles of Narnia, feeling that Lewis’s mixing of mythological figures (fauns, centaurs, and Santa Claus, for example) alongside Christian themes was too jarring.

For his part, Lewis always remained appreciative of Tolkien’s role in his conversion, acknowledging that without Tolkien’s influence, he might never have come to faith. However, Lewis’s rising fame as a Christian apologist and his more public embrace of faith through radio talks and theological books made Tolkien uneasy. Tolkien, a more private man, valued faith as something personal and profound, while Lewis became a public figure in the Christian world.

Their differences in how they expressed their faith and their literary styles led to some distancing in later years, but the bond they shared over decades of friendship remained strong, especially in their mutual respect for one another’s intellect and creative genius.

The Lasting Impact

Faith was an essential pillar of both Tolkien and Lewis’s lives, deeply informing their works, their friendship, and their worldview. Without Tolkien’s steadfast Catholicism, The Lord of the Rings would lack much of its depth and moral complexity. Without Lewis’s eventual embrace of Christianity, The Chronicles of Narnia would never have been written, and the world would be without some of the most compelling Christian apologetic works of the 20th century.

Though their spiritual journeys took different paths—Tolkien’s steady and lifelong, Lewis’s dramatic and intellectual—their faith shaped not only their writings but also the nature of their friendship. Together, they built worlds that reflected their belief in the eternal struggle between good and evil, the power of redemption, and the hope that lies at the heart of the Christian narrative.

Their works continue to inspire readers today, offering not only escapism into fantastical worlds but also deep spiritual truths that resonate across generations. And at the heart of these stories lies the enduring friendship of two men whose faith was central to their lives and legacies.

[tragedyposting]

PRINCE ANDREI FOR THE BLORBO BINGO

As a former English major, I had to annotate this. Here are the footnotes:

I wouldn’t push him down the stairs out of hate, but the text tells us that being grievously wounded is good for his character development.

This one is a big one bc having been in the trenches on 2017 great comet tumblr I was constantly having to defend his honor from people who hate him in the context of great comet wherein I genuinely believe he did nothing wrong but also like in the context of earlier in the book. he knows what he did!!

Why do you think I’ve read War and Peace so much?

I’ve already forgotten why I put a footnote for this. Possibly see also footnote 2?

I had to google what this meant 💕 out of touch Friday

My initial thought was to say no but then I remembered that every time I reread certain portions of his early-book characterization my gut reaction is verbatim “I want to kick this guy’s teeth in” so I guess I do kind of want to do violent things to him. I get over it though. He gets better.

Verdict: bingo!

send me characters for blorbo bingo

[vyingeyes]

I believe in my heart of hearts that there are five clones per squad in Star Wars. Yes, I am using Domino Squad as my lone supporting evidence. They are arguably the most definitive example of a standard CT squad we get (at least in the TCW show).

According to Wookieepedia, though, this does not add up. The wiki claims that each corps had 36,864 troopers to be led. This, notably, does not divide by 5. It does divide by 4, but why would Domino Squad be the outlier? I find it much easier to justify why the canonical 4-trooper squads (specifically the Bad Batch and Delta Squad) would have 4 members rather than a "standard" 5. And contrary to all of this, the wiki purports the idea of each squad having nine members. Which... Yes, that adds up, but the idea of ALL THREE OF THE AFOREMENTIONED SQUADS being outliers somehow drives me up the wall.

Instead, I propose a corps of 40,960 troopers. Each corps has 16 regiments (each being 2,560 troopers). Each regiment has 4 battalions (of 640 troopers), and each battalion has 4 companies (individually 160 troopers). This is where we get into the units that we're more familiar with—such as Ghost Company and Torrent Company. Breaking the companies up gives us 4 platoons, such as the one headed by Waxer. Here is where I step out again from the trenches of division and multiplication.

I want a division between Platoons and Squads. This is where my "Units" come in. A unit is two squads squished together. Unlike a squad or a platoon, which are static, a unit might be a combination of clones best suited for the assignment at hand. Units would be referred to as their squad names combined (ie "Green-Crown Unit", "Orbit-Nexu Unit") and the mix-and-match nature would allow skills to be better distributed for the needs of the clones within. You could pair a squad with a medic with a squad that's going to be under heavy fire, or a squad with a heavy gunner can be put with a squad that needs to be covered while they try to help retrieve the wounded from the field.

There would be two "heads" of a unit, since each squad would have a single squad lead. Rather than pick between the two, they would be expected to work together and coordinate their squad members together.

A platoon would be 4 units, or 40 troopers in total.

EDIT 8/27: This just got reblogged again and for anyone interested I have made a few tiny changes based on some reblogs (which I did not see soon enough to reply to meaningfully). For one thing, I agreed with the comment that it's stupid to not have something between Corps and Regiments. In come Divisions. As far as I can tell (from Wookieepedia and memory, because I'm not going through every episode to fact check for a niche military unit type) Divisions were Not really used consistently in TCW era. For my worldbuilding purposes, a division is 1/4 of a corps and composed of 4 regiments. Every day George Lucas makes me do more work. Someone needs to pay me for doing math in my free time.

Also, I think there's been a good bit of critique on my idea of units having two leaders. I use the term "leader" very loosely. In terms of actual power, they have none. They're in charge of keeping their squads on task and coordinating with each other; some squads will naturally have chemistry with others, especially if they've worked together before, but for squads that don't get along, think of them as supervisors connecting two different work branches. Their only special job is to make sure the ACTUAL jobs (determined by higher ups [Lieutenants, Captains, Commanders, etc etc]) is done.

I liked the bit of commentary on backend workers (In TCW, this would include the troopers we see on the bridge of the Venators or in the security rooms in prison, etc) but I do think they're just specialized squads/platoons/etc. I do not have the willpower to give them any sort of special category in my already incredibly twisting Obsidian vault.

Also, the question of "how long did this take?": I am an English major :') Math is hard. Many hours. Many separate days. I am still changing it when it seems unrealistic. I have no actual military experience so a lot of research is involved. I THINK my numbers are approximately comparable to Life but I may be wrong. Sometimes I'll be writing and go "wow, this is bad" and then have to clarify ANOTHER section of unexplored worldbuilding. Why did you do this to me, George? Save me Dave Filoni.

[ao3feed-piltovers-finest]

Death couldn't stop me from loving you

by JadedRivers

Being in the Military was always a risk. Especially as a marine. There was always the danger of deployment lurking around the corner. And sadly.. Vi was one of many other marines who got shoved into the warzone. Death was now the new danger that loomed above her head at all times. Every day that passed never was a silent one. Gunshots, explosions, living in tight spaces of the trenches. Days turn into weeks and weeks into months. Comrades, friends, privates who joined the war days ago all slowly pile up as lifeless corpses around the trenches. And when Vi thought the end really was there for her, she was saved by what was her guardian angel in her moment of need. This guardian angel was none other than Caitlyn Kiramman. A field medic who just risked her life for someone who would change the entire course of her own. Will war destroy everything their future has to offer? Or will love conquer all?

Words: 2004, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Major Character Death

Categories: F/F, Other

Characters: Caitlyn (League of Legends), Vi (League of Legends), Jinx (League of Legends), Mel Medarda, Ambessa Medarda, Sevika (Arcane: League of Legends), Cassandra Kiramman

Relationships: Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends), Mel Medarda/Sevika, Cassandra Kiramman/Ambessa Medarda

Additional Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depressing, Dark, Slow Romance, Gun Violence, Blood and Violence, Fluff and Humor, Heavy Angst, Dialogue Heavy, Military, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Lesbian Character, Useless Lesbians

Read on A03. from AO3 works tagged ‘Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends)’

[rpfofficial]

ethan. i chose whatever music asks you haven’t done yet.

hi kieren im kind of obsessed with u. there are a lot that i havent done but some of them i cant be bothered to answer/genuinely cannot answer or the answer is just no so here's the ones i like <3

Do you listen to more oldies or more current stuff? A mix of both but leaning more to oldies, the majority of my favourite songs and artists are either from the 60s & 70s era, or the 90s & 00s era <3 

Would you wear a t-shirt of a band you're not into? Probably not, even if the design is cool i only wear band tshirts if i care abt the band. But if someone gave me an artist tshirt as a gift, i’d wear it AND listen to the artist it depicts 👍

Is there an artist or song that you like, despite being of a genre you don't usually like? I like all genres i don't discriminate. i’m bisexual 

A song or album from the 50s or earlier: this compilation album of old japanese pop 1950-1951… discovered through mash playlists

A song or album from the 60s: 1-800-are-you-experienced by jimi hendrix 1967 :) 

A song or album from the 70s: Born to run by BRUCIE 1975 raaaagghhhhhh 

A song or album from the 80s: King of rock by run-dmc 1985 💪💥

A song or album from the 90s Call the doctor by sleater-kinney 1996

A song or album from the 2000s: Cheap pop for the elite by kore. ydro., 2006

 A song or album from the 2010s: TRANSANGELIC EXODUS BY EZRA FURMAN 2018. GOAT

Do you and your partner/best friend share a special song? One you’d call “our song”? unfortunately for my boyfriend and i it is the predatory wasp of the palisades is out to get us by sufjan stevens which is indicative of how normal we both are 

Do you play any instruments? I’ve been “learning” the bass for about 2 years but havent made much progress but i can do basic riffs and improvise a little 

Who’s your favorite fictional band or artist? Marceline The Vampire 

When was the last time you cried when listening to a song, if ever? I couldn’t tell you the last time a song made me properly cry but i sort of cried listening to come on in yesterday because i was having a category 5 peter tork moment 

Your favorite artist from your city/state/country? At the moment its marina spanou and based on her lyrics i think she is literally from the same area of athens as me <3

A song you like in a language you don’t speak:

A song you like with lyrics in two or more languages:

songs that are symbolic of a time when i was literally and without exaggeration in the trenches. korean & english

Do you enjoy musicals? If so, what’s your favorite? Top 5: fiddler on the roof, jesus christ superstar, newsies, les miserables, hadestown.

Have you watched any musician’s biopics? Do you have a favorite? I’M NOT THERE DIRECTED BY TODD HAYNES MY NUMBER 1 ☝️ even if i am not the biggest bob dylan girl out there i fucking love that movie so much 

Do you listen to music when it's raining or do you stop to hear the sound of the rain? Im answerin this question cos i like it. If its raining really hard i take out my headphones and turn my music up so i can hear it out loud blended with the sound of the rain <3

Do you prefer live recordings or studio recordings? LIVE RECORDINGS ARE MY BEST FRIENDS. I dont know if i prefer them but theres something so comcorting and beautiful of hearing live stuff so yeah <3

Okay these were the questions i cared about. thank you i love you . heheheheh

[abmediumaevum]

(BL Egerton MS 2781; The "Neville of Hornby Hours"; 14th c. f.76v)

Today (Nov. 30th) is Andermas, the feast day of Saint Andrew: apostle, martyr, and patron saint of Scotland (amongst many other patronages). Traditionally, Saint Andrew's Day marks the beginning of Advent (starting the Sunday closest to November 30th) in both the Eastern and Western Christian liturgical calendar.

Saint Andrew has been the patron saint of Scotland for some 700 years, beginning in 1320 with the Declaration of Arbroath addressed to Pope John XXII. Written and sealed by fifty-one Scottish barons and magnates in the reign of King Robert I - popularly known as 'the Bruce' - (r.1306-1329) the Declaration was part of a broader diplomatic effort to assert Scotland's position as an independent kingdom during the First War of Scottish Independence (1296-1328) in spite of the Pope's recognising of King Edward I of England's claim to overlordship of Scotland in 1305 and his excommunication of Robert from the Church in 1306.

(National Records of Scotland; The Declaration of Arbroath [Online], URL: https://www.nrscotland.gov.uk/Declaration)

Elsewhere in the United Kingdom, such as in Bedfordshire, Buckinghamshire, Hertfordshire and Northamptonshire, 'Tandrew' or 'Tandry' - as St. Andrew's Day was colloquially known - was traditionally once a major festival in many rural villages. Thomas Sternberg, describing popular customs in mid-19th-century Northamptonshire writes that "the day is one of unbridled license [...] drinking and feasting prevail to a notorious extent. Towards evening the villagers walk about and masquerade, the women wearing men's dress and the men wearing female attire, visiting one another's cottages and drinking hot elderberry wine, the chief beverage of the season." (Sternberg, 1851: pp.183-85).

--

As the nights grow longer, Christmas steadily begins to come into our view, be sure to think upon this old folk-rhyme on this chilly night.

(Northfall, G.F. (1892), "English Folk Rhymes: A collection of traditional verses relating to places and persons, customs, superstitions, etc.", (London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trübner & Co. Ltd.), p.455)

[doueverwonder]

Heam is enabling me; (i lied i can't remember Sam's part 😭)

warning now long post

WELL SAM it's 400 AD and that right there is Britain! and here comes the king! in a bedsheet! Haha no really that's the roman emperor because Britain is under Roman rule as it has been for over 350 years! But all that is about to change because in 410 the unthinkable happens!

so unthinkable I can't think of it now what was it hmmmmmmmm OH

THE ROMAN EMPIRE CRUMBLES! And the romans leave Britain with the immortal line

"don't forget to put out the cat"

or something like that

and that's when the problems really start! with the Romans gone the picts from up in Scotland invade england, so Vortigern king of the Britons hires a load of warriors from Germany & Denmark--places over there--and with them come two chaps named Hengist and Horsa, and they like Britain so much they'd quite like to keep a piece of it. Luckily for them Hengist has a beautiful daughter and in the weirdest deals in the whole of history he gives Vortigern his daughters hand in marriage for Kent!

yep Kent.

And that's just the start of it. Soon seeing how easy it is to get your hands on English lands there are Danes and Germans everywhere! German invaders from the district of Angle take over the east and the midlands while invaders from Saxony take over large chunks of the south, yes that's right England is now overrun with ANGLES and SAXONS making it officially ANGLO-SAXON.

and u thought we just made that term up

And there you have it that's it

end of the story

end of the line

end of the pier

last dance

last chance

lights off

cats out

done.

BUT NOT FOR LONG

under anglo-saxon rule Britain changes shape entirely, though obviously not around the edges. Inside though it's all different as the invaders shape their new lands into seven major kingdoms; places like

Essex

Wessex

Sussex

and so on

But it's not all playing fairly for the Anglo-Saxons because they can't conquer Scotland for toffee!

which is a shame because Scotland's got great toffee

Meanwhile on the other side they aren't too happy about the new neighbors, so much so that king arthur of Mercia

an Anglo-Saxon kingdom shown here in puce whatever color that is

digs a trench separating the west of Britain from the rest of Britain, creating the border for what we now call Wales! Sounds fair! we now have Scotland, Wales, Anglo-Saxon England all living in perfect harmony bar a little name calling and the odd local war.

BUT NOT FOR LONG

YES FOLKS IT'S 865 AND LOCK UP YOUR MONOSTARY BECAUSE

HERE COME THE VIKINGS

In no time at all they take over every major anglo-saxon kingdom except for this one, Wessex, home of Alfred the great

who clearly has a high opinion of himself

And for good reason, because Alfie and his family manage to hold off the vikings!

BUT NOT FOR LONG--well, actually it's for quite awhile but that's not the point. No Eventually Æthelred the unready becomes king and gets so sick of the constant viking attacks

that he's presumably never ready for

that he decides to kill every viking in England, including the king of Norway's sister; which unsurprisingly doesn't go down too well with the king of Norway. Who prompltly Invades England, takes Æthelred's crown and is the first in the line of viking kings!

There's Cnut!

There's Harthacnut!

There's a quarter of a Cnut!

Though not that last one!

and this goes on until 1042 when an englishman gets the crown again

WHOO it's

Edward the Confessor

and then he goes and dies BOO

and three differnt people try to claim the thrown, an Englishman, a Norman, and a Viking

which sounds like the beginning of a joke but really isnt.

Especially when the englishman, Harald Godwinson, takes the throne and is immediatly set upon by the other two! While holding off the viking one up here, the norman one--a certain William the bastard conqueror invades down here

yes folks it's 1066 and the battle of hastings! Which signals not only the end of Harald but also the end of the Anglo-Saxon Era all together

THE END OF THE PIER

THE END OF THE LINE

THE END OF THE ROAD

THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT

and unless i calm down soon it might as well be

THE END OF DEAR OLD BOB HALE

OH IT'S TOO LATE IT'S HAPPENED

It's just heartburn, false alarm, it's just heartburn.

back to you Sam.

[melpomeneprose]

Yorktown, 1781

Yorktown, 1781

Read here originally written as part of this much longer work.

Now or never 

September 20th, 1781. 

The British had trapped themselves, at Yorktown. General Cornwallis had barricaded himself in a Virginian swamp, the Marquis de Lafayette had explained. What’s more the French fleet was more than happy to aid in the destruction of their mutual enemy, Great Britain. Still more, a double agent, a black man by the name of James Armistead Lafayette was feeding English intelligence false information. It was now or never, now that Cornwallis had sent for reinforcements and a fleet from New York.

 “We must take Cornwallis, lest we lose all morale and the people,” Washington said. Tallmadge merely nodded, silent but never not observant holding his Dragoon helmet close. 

“It is now or never,” Lafayette said.   

These are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. - Thomas Paine

The trenches 

October 11th, 1781. 

Several sleepless nights for Major Benjamin Tallmadge as the patriot and allied militias dig trenches surrounding the English enemy. The English put up a fight, of course they do, amidst the darkness sounds of cannons being fired shake the ground and would burst any unaccustomed to war’s eardrums. The smoke from the English muskets fills the air, making it more than a little difficult to breathe, great plumes of white billowing into the air made worse by the southern heat and swampy ground of Virginia and every once in awhile a great booming noise just overhead and something were it less brutal one could half deceive themselves into thinking it a blazing red comet falling to earth. 

By morning the trenches are dug, and remarkably, no American casualties, not yet Tallmadge only prayed for the least amount of life taken, and a steady and swift end to this conflict. There are a few casualties on their allies, the French side, but not enough to be noted in any war as substantive. Morale is still high, they need only push Cornwallis til he breaks. With the right poison, even a snake can take down a lion. 

Firestorm 

October 15th, 1781.

Across the York River, the sound of a French military drum echoed a steady “da-da-da-dum.” English warships held that side of the river, for the moment. Encroaching in the dead of night the navy of French Admiral Comte de Grasse, set about their cause, the one they were all to pleased to do on General Washington’s insistence. 

Raining down cannon fire which soon spread set the vast majority of the English fleet aflame. Tallmadge didn’t see it, not all of it. Truthfully, it was hard to watch, the agony of others, even the enemy, even redcoat lobsters, practically flamed alive. Cornwallis retreated in a small escape vessel but in but a manner of hours, the English fleet at Yorktown and the men who had stood through no fault of their own for their… King and Country were obliterated. 

Tallmadge sucked in his breath nervously as recollections of Sarah Livingston passed briefly before his blue eyes. It was necessary, sure, and he wouldn’t run. But… such ungodly suffering, like flames lapping up from Hell, consuming everything in it’s wake. The cannons, are like a heart beat that rips through you and tears you up. That tears the unlucky limb by limb. Worse than any bullet. 

Some talk of  Alexander and some of Hercules 

Of  Hector and Lysander, and such great names as these.

But of all the world's brave heroes, there's none that can compare.

With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, to the British Grenadiers.

Man or a monster 

October 16th, 1781. 

It had occurred to Benjamin but once before now that he might be wrong, even after all this time, Sarah’s words rang in his ears, ‘I am not ready to die for yours,’ Sarah had said, she had begged his assistance, and he had not returned it, he had killed her. As Comte de Grasse had demolished the English fleet and the man aboard those ships. It must be wrong, surely, or at least, not anything any Good God would approve of, on either side. His name was already tainted, at least to him, it was a wonder anyone could still see Good in him. 

Benjamin, son of the right hand in Hebrew, is the chosen son. Or so one in all their wisdom had explained. 

Wrong, would this be counted against him or for him, on the day he finally passes? As is most certain and unavoidable for all mankind. 

Laying in his cot in his tent Tallmadge managed a prayer. A meek one, but, a prayer nonetheless. Tallmadge would do his duty, finish his task, mount his horse with his spurs and take up his musket and pistols were it so required. But, when this is over and he, at last, can hang up his spurs and his sword– he promises never to lay a hand on a gun or such a fatalistic tool as a sabre ever again. Such destruction and what cost? Surely it is only right for God to play such drawn-out affairs with life and death. 

‘But what if perhaps God doesn’t exist?’ 

But it is surely not Benjamin’s place to question God’s design, faith and friends had kept him alive, however much he wavered and seemed ill at ease. It had been six years fighting George III’s empire, he would surely not break now. Even if it condemned his soul from thereafter.

Even if it made Benjamin no better than the demon or a Lamia the scriptures warn men about.

Redcoats redder 

October 17th, 1781. 

So the bombardment of the English began in earnest at last. Benjamin was aching for a fight and so it seemed were his colleagues Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens. Washington promised them soon enough – they must break the English defensive in its entirety first. 2,500 Patriots and 4,000 French allies… up against 8,000 English troops. But, as fate or God would have it, 8,000 unguarded, ill of malaria and dysentery and trying to hold a strategic position on land any sensible person would say was unholdable. Perhaps it was just Cornwallis’s spite for the Americans, the English always seemed to forget the collective power of her colonies, or perhaps more foolish yet, holding out for reinforcements from New York. What it was, didn’t matter. Not when the clock was ticking and in this rare instance, God seemed to favour the patriot side. They’d take the remaining redoubts by storm it is either that or the noose. Liberty or death. 

Benjamin had thought on the concept of dying now so many times, it seemed, he now had a sort of disconnect from the entire concept. That was until now. Until he could no longer deny its likelihood. Guns and strategic advantages aside, they were still outnumbered and they were still facing the worlds greatest Empire, if one could call it that. Tallmadge much preferred the concept of putting down a hungry beast, like a Mantacore of Greek legend, or… Echidna the mother of monsters from the same. Surely that was the most apt description for the thing they were fighting. Even bloodsucker or a leech was far too kind. So, into the belly of the beast they charge, it is, simply… win or the bayonet end or the noose of the hollow crown. 

Rochambeau 

October 18th, 1781. 

The code word, Alexander Hamilton informed him: Rochambeau. We face them now, staring into the whites of their eyes, so the enemy cannot run. Alexander Hamiton and his Achilles, to his Patroclus to his Achilles, John Laurens would lead infantry. Benjamin would, such as his rank of 2nd continental light dragoon said, was to cut them off as calvary give little room for them to hold ground, or fight back. It would be brutal, Hamilton bluntly said to Tallmadge, but necessary. Tallmadge nodded, despite himself and gave Hamilton a friendly and determined smile, this is what Benjamin’s been fighting for since 1776. He was not about to give these men in red an inch. For Nathan, for how he couldn’t spare Major Andre, or Sarah, to end the conflict Miss Shippen was running from. For Anna Strong’s revenge, for Caleb and the ring, for their America. 

Not charging into the frey not yet. Alexander and Laurens move silently in the dead of night removing the bullets from their guns until absolutely necessary. With the British defences pummelled to the ground, they take the redoubts with comparative ease. Until the English answer with their remaining cannons and the fog and fumes of war. Laurens and Hamilton stay their ground. Try as men might atop his horse, the men in red are easy targets. He cuts them down hacking and slashing with all his rage and all his might, like Achilles at Troy. They attempt to fire upon him and the calvary he is missed. One man’s horse is shot from under him and he hears the screams of an injured or dying animal, still, they keep fighting. Cannon fire shoots back in response, a last-ditch attempt by the English to hold their position. By 4 am it is decided in the end the total casualties amounted to 857, for both sides. But, outgunned, outplayed, exhausted and ill the English now as weary as their patriot enemies surrender.

The world turned upside down 

October 19th, 1781. 

A young redcoat stands atop the defences with a white handkerchief, and a drummer accompanies him. By 10:30 am the English offer sufficient terms of surrender. Humiliated, or ill, Cornwallis neglects to be present. Benjamin cannot help but scoff but he suppresses it if only out of politeness and civility to the now-defeated enemy. 

A line is formed and sure enough, Washington receives the sword of the enemy, a symbol of surrender and a remarkably civil surrender at that. Save for poor Banastre Tarleton, not with his reputation for brutality. However, the English refuse to look at the Patriots, to whom the French and English are subordinate. 

The Marquis de Lafayette merely sighed softly. “Yankee doodle,” he commanded, as the British drummer and fifer played the folk song, ‘The world turned upside down.’ There is a look of disbelief on the faces of the English, but, Tallmadge cannot help but return it with a grin, smug perhaps, but, this is what he had spent six years fighting for! What is more, he had survived.