#the french revolution has really stick with me over the years

[gabrielisdead]

I really miss the happy birthday grimace trend because it combined two favourites of mine, the color purple and amateur horror. why are we not having fun anymore, is it illegal to spill your sickeningly sweet beverage on yourself to imitate a crime scene. do you remember when we used to play with matches and bury little things in the backyard. those were the good times

[respectthepetty]

The Loyal Pin - Finale

I've waited two weeks for this finale, so I'm jumping straight in because I need three things out of it: a happy ending, Anin wearing pink, and Patricia apologizing to Pin, WHICH IT THE FIRST THING TO HAPPEN!

Pat, who finally gets her name back, is wearing Pink Person Pin's color and giving the best apologizing to Pin who still doesn't fully have her color back.

And now Anin's mom is pawning off the jewelry in case the girls have to go to England, and I have never appreciated fictional color-coded women more in my life.

OUR ALLY! OUR KING! OUR BEST BOY!

As much as Pin was upsetting me with that marriage business, she always shows up for her girl, and no man would EVER get on the floor and beg for mercy like this! THIS IS THE MOMENT!

One thing about Anin is she is always going to be a Blue Beauty regardless of what is happening.

WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?! NO!!!! WE AIN'T GOING OUT LIKE THIS! PIN FINALLY GOT HER COLOR BACK AND HER AUNT/MOM/WHATEVS IS ON HER SIDE NOW! NOOOO!

Wait, a damn minute! What the hell is this all about?

What did this Blue Bitc--Beauty do? Annette, ANSWER ME?!

It's a prank?! What in the MTV's Jackass is this bullshit about?!

AND EVERYONE WAS IN ON IT?!

Anan, on God, you are the only royal I respect in this house because you have been PFLAG's Ally of the Year, and I appreciate you trying to convince your father, but what in the Sam Hill was your sister thinking?!

Pin, beat her! At least slap Annette once. She hasn't worn pink yet, and now this?! I know she is a princess, but if this was French Revolution, Annette would be on thin ice. I'm not saying kill her, but she needs to be scared the same way she keeps scaring you BY KIDNAPPING YOU!

Or give her a ring for her birthday because you love her special brand of crazy. Sure! That works too!

And the whole group is in blue for the Blue Beauty with some pops of pink. Everyone supports her special brand of crazy. Got it!

This feels like a baby shower, so it being a rich lesbian's birthday is making this so pleasurable!

Now, Pat! You just got your name back, and now I want to snatch it away again! What is this, mama? Desserts are your specialty, not decorations. Stick to your strengths, girl, cause this ain't it! AND WHY IS ANIN IN GREEN?! This green has haunted me the entire second half of the show! And now the green AND that little figurine will haunt me forever.

I know I should be happy homegirl is pregnant, but since Anan dropped the fact that he didn't get to marry who he loved, I feel bad for both of them.

They will make this work, but as Anin's mom would say, I'm being really western about this marriage of conventionality.

Alin, were you the Green Girl I was waiting for all along to take this darn color that has haunted me?!

Everyone's cute and in their colors. Alin looks more like Anin and Pin's daughter, and I love that for us.

Pat, I'm still salty toward you, but I'm glad I don't want to fight you anymore because you look so good in your color, and I hate being attracted to people who piss me off. I was never not attracted to you, but it's nice to know I actually like you again too.

Annette, just because you have incorporated more florals and dots into your outfits as a sign that you love Pin doesn't mean you are off the hook for not wearing pink, but I'm going to ignore it right now because MY BABYGIRL IS FREE!!! She can live her life as the bright and beautiful Yellow Yal she was meant to be without a man tying her down! I actually hope Aon is well too.

I don't know how Kuea's wife made the same mistake twice, but more power to that woman for giving that triflin' man two kids.

They are adorable wives, and Pin giving Anin lunch in a pink gingham checkered cloth is adorable, BUT WHERE IS YOUR PINK, ANNETTE?!

Prik, you and Pia were the real ones putting up with these lesbians over DECADES ACROSS CONTINENTS! I hope Annette taught you how to play tennis and drive, so you can run her errands in style.

SHE IS WEARING PINK! ANNETTE IS WEARING PINK! IT'S HAPPENING AND I'M SCREAMING!!!!!

Leave it up to Idol Factory to wait until the last possible minute, literally, to give me the color exchange! Congratulations, everyone got their name back this episode. Good job, Anin!

Pushing the horrible prank aside, the finale was worth the wait and the hour and half runtime. I enjoyed every single episode, and the colors were coloring until the very end (damn you, Idol Factory!), so I do hope it gets the credit it deserves for being the most each episode and doing most of it amazingly well.

Everyone got the ended they needed including our color-coded girls in love.

And I love that.

[of-foolish-and-wise]

a uni survival guide: tips from a phd

if there's one thing i know about, it's college. i've done it, i've taught it, i've lived and breathed it. these tips are for first years in particular, but honestly for everybody. i think it's so important for people to have balanced lives in these years -- academics are not everything. you know what didn't help me in the real world when i was afraid i wouldn't live through it? my fancy college note-taking format. you know what did help me? the friends i made there who i knew would get on a plane and fly across the country in a matter of hours if i told them i needed them.

academic

- figure out where class is held ahead of time: don't be that kid who's late on day one, i beg of you

- use the writing center: especially for basic grammatical editing, which a lot of professors don't have time to mark on papers

- speak up in class: talking through ideas helps you work through them, and asking questions about something you don't understand can open up great lines of conversation

- find a regular schedule that works for you and stick to it: my college schedule was morning free time, class, lunch, class, practice, homework. that consistency was a life-saver

- keep a planner: it's so important to have a central place to track deadlines, assignments, and engagements

- annotate your reading: when you're stressing about a paper topic, being able to go back to what you've highlighted and written in the margins is a life-saver

- color-code your coursework: i use the same color highlighter, pen, and notebook for any given class. it's super helpful

- if you can't focus while studying with friends, don't: i reserved group studying for days when i didn't have important work because i can't be in a room with other people without talking to them. if your school has one, the quiet floor of the library is your best friend

- treat yourself to a "fun" class: art was always my place to just sit back and chill, a way to end the night all zen in the darkroom instead of conjugating russian verbs in a fluorescent-lit cinderblock prison. for you, it could be gym, it could be pottery, it could be some random course about, like, the history of cooking or something -- explore!

- profs are people too: don't be too nervous around them. also, know that if you're struggling -- even b/c of something in your personal life -- you can admit it, and they'll almost always understand why you missed a deadline or bombed a test

- go to office hours: it's the only way to get to know professors in big courses, and it's so helpful for both your grades and learning how to navigate relationships with authority figures

social

- don't let academia keep you from your friends: it's a case-by-case basis, but sometimes it's okay to let the reading slide and spend time with friends. i graduated seven years ago and my college group text still talks every day. that's so much more important to me than the fact that i never finished brideshead revisited

- joining a club is one of the best ways to make friends: i played ultimate frisbee through college and it was the source of so many lasting relationships, as well as the way i met all my local friends when i was abroad

- say yes to things you don't know if you'll like: you'll surprise yourself. me? turns out i love drinking games. and theme parties. and skinny dipping. and rock climbing

- don't be that person who looks down on their peers for partying: honestly? that person kind of sucks. you don't have to party if you don't want to, but actually, a lot of those people are super nice and also good at school -- don't just write them off!

- show up for your friends: go to their games, their concerts, their art shows, their standup nights. show them that what matters to them matters to you, too

- set aside a night to do a group activity with others: whether your vibe is wednesday night trivia, a weekly "terrible movie" showing, or a get-high-and-watch-nature-documentaries-type thing, these are great ways to liven up the week and de-stress

- this is a great time to figure out who from high school really matters to you: you don't have to force relationships that were built mostly on convenience if there are friends at uni with whom you click more. people you became friends with purely based on the coincidence of where your parents lived do not have to be your forever friends. they can be! but they don't have to be

personal

- don't expect too much of yourself: a 4.0 is not the end-all, be-all. if your family or somebody tells you it is, tell them to call me, and i will personally talk some sense into them

- take advantage of university support services: mental health counseling, free yoga classes, multi-cultural societies, etc

- drink water: please, please don't get kidney stones in the middle of the semester, says the girl who got kidney stones in the middle of the semester

- let yourself take breaks: if you need to lie to a professor and say you're sick when really you're just feeling down and you need to sit in bed and watch a movie, that's totally valid

- don't freak about individual assignments: my students come to me freaking over a B+ and i tell them, honey, no job interviewer is ever going to ask you about your second paper from communications 101. i wish i'd known that

- go see speakers if there's someone interesting coming to campus: these talks are always cooler than you expect. i'll never get over the fact that i didn't go see anita hill when she came to my undergrad

- do your laundry on the same night every week: i can't explain why this is so helpful but it really is

- keep up on the news and the memes: read the school paper, the school blog, the memes page -- college politics and inside jokes are fun and convoluted and fascinating

- set the groundwork for long-term self-care: all of the above is really just to say -- university isn't just for learning about the french revolution, it's also about learning how to balance, how to handle failure, how to ask for help, how to make a salad that doesn't totally suck, etc

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: I love your long posts which make for great reading and I wish you could do more because you’ve got such a range of astonishing interests. I’m hoping because you’ve served in the military you would have studied military thinkers. Do you think the Art of War by Sun Tzu is way overrated by everyone? I studied him a bit for my masters but I still couldn’t get my head around him. Interested to know your thoughts. Thanks!

“To lift an autumn hair is no sign of great strength; to see the sun and moon is no sign of sharp sight; to hear the noise of thunder is no sign of a quick ear." - Sun Tzu's Art of War, Chapter IV - Tactical Disposition, Clause 10.

Sounds cool, doesn’t it?

But what the hell does this quote really mean? Do you know what it means? Can anyone else tell me?

Look, I enjoy a good Sun Tzu quote as the next person. Only recently I was exchanging thoughts with a fellow blogger whose studying Thucydides, Clausewitz, and Kissinger for an advanced course at the US Naval War College. Even he prefers Sun Tzu over Clausewitz. I can see why too. If you can make sense of chapter one of Clausewitz’s tome On War you deserve a Nobel Prize.

Unlike my very learned fellow blogger, there are lot of folk who don’t know Sun Tzu at all. They can quote him, but almost certainly out of context. As someone who partly grew up in the Far East and even learned Chinese and Japanese (a pitiful but functional degree of fluency) I’m embarrassed (not hard since I’m English) when I hear other Western compatriots romanticise and elevate Eastern icons to mythic status that the Chinese themselves have never done.

I am even more bemused than embarrassed after having hung up my military uniform for ‘civvy’ corporate clothing at how badly abused Sun Tzu’s book is in the corporate world. In my workplace I grit my teeth at corporate high flyers who mistake a balance sheet for a real battlefield by quoting Sun Tzu out of their arse, and then as self-styled ‘corporate warriors’ work themselves up in a lather of testosterone induced self-importance to crush their corporate enemies into the dust.

This is why the The Art of War by Sun Tzu has invited a jaundiced eye roll. And rightly so. I can see why many view Sun Tzu as over-rated because many easily impressed people go all woo woo over anything ancient and Eastern.

It’s become a familiar trope to say the art of ‘strategy’ as a science began 2,500 years ago with the writing of The Art of War. I would dispute this. Not that the writing of Art of War was the earliest written but whether I would call it a manual of strategy per se - more on this below in my answer.  However you rate or overrate the Art of War it’s important to have perspective and remember this book is written in 512 BC. Other than the bible and some religious books, there are not many books that can survived thousands of years and still remains a steady bestseller and enjoys a wide influence in military academies and army staff colleges today and even as far into board rooms.

The question behind your question is just as interesting to me: why did Sun Tzu and his Art of War gain such traction in the West?

Sun Tzu (544-496 BC) wrote the original text of The Art of War shortly before 510 BC. During most of the past two thousand years, the common people in China were forbidden to read Sun Tzu's text. However, the text was preserved by China's nobility for over 2,500 years. The Chinese nobility preserved the text of The Art of War, known in Chinese as Bing-fa, even despite the famous book-burning by the first Emperor of Chi around 200 BC. The text was treasured and passed down by the Empire’s various rulers. Unfortunately, it was preserved in a variety of forms. A "complete" Chinese language version of the text wasn't available until the 1970s. Before that, there were a number of conflicting, fragmentary versions in different parts of China, passed down through 125 generations of duplication.

Indeed at the beginning of the twentieth century, there were two main textual traditions in circulation, known as the (Complete Specialist Focus) and (Military Bible) versions. There were also perhaps a dozen minor versions and both derived and unrelated works also entitled Bing-fa. Of course, every group considered (and still considers) its version the only accurate one.

When I last visited China before the Covid pandemic for work reason, I had time off to go to a couple of museums that housed the fruits of a number of archeological digs uncovering the tombs of the ancient rulers of China in which sections of Sun Tzu’s works were found. These finds have verified the historical existence of the text and the historical accuracy of various sections. I understand new finds are still being made.

The first complete, consistent Chinese version was created in Taipei in the 1970s. It was titled The Complete Version of Sun Tzu’s Art of War." It was created by the National Defence Research Investigation Office, which was a branch of Taiwan's defence department. This version compared the main textual traditions to each other and to archeological finds and compiled the most complete version possible.

This work was completed in Taiwan rather than mainland China for a number of reasons. Mainland China was still in the throws of the Maoist Cultural Revolution, which actively suppressed the study of traditional works such as Sun Tzu. The mainland had also moved to a reformed character set, while Taiwan still used the traditional character set in which the text was written. Only today is the study of Sun Tzu in mainland China growing, interestingly enough, through the translation of Sun Tzu into contemporary Mandarin. Based on the archeological sources we have today, we are reasonably certain of the historical accuracy of this compiled version that is the basis of what most people use today.

Surprisingly, the Art of War only came to light in the West around the 18th Century.  

Historians believe it was first formally introduced in Europe in 1772 by the French Jesuit Joseph-Marie Amiot. It was translated at the time by the title “The thirteen articles of Sun-Tse”. Joseph-Marie Amiot (1718-1793) was not just a Jesuit priest but also an astronomer and French historian, as well as fervent missionary in China. He was one of the last survivors of the Jesuit Mission in China (he died in Beijing).

Many of the historical problems with understanding Sun Tzu's work can be trace back to its first Western translation in French. A Jesuit missionary, Father Amiot, first brought The Art of War to the West, translating it into French in 1782. Unfortunately, this translation started the tradition of mistranslating Sun Tzu's work, starting with the title, The Art of War (Art de la guerre).

This title, copied the title of a popular work by Machiavelli (a criminally underrated writer on military strategy), but it didn't reflect Sun Tzu's Bing-fa, which would be better translated as "competitive methods."

We cannot say what effect being translated by a Jesuit priest had upon the text. It was unavoidable that the work's translation reflected the military prejudices of the time era when war was both popular and Christian. It was also unavoidable that most future translations would reflect some of the first translation's prejudices. However, war was on the verge of becoming much less Christian in the West since this time was the era of the French Revolution (1789).

The work might well of slipped into obscurity after its initial publication, but it was discovered by a minor French military officer. After studying it, this officer rose to the head of the revolutionary French army in a surprising series of victories. The legend is that Napoleon used the work as the key to his victories in conquering all of Europe. It is said that he carried the little work with him everywhere but kept its contents secret (which would be very much in keeping with Sun Tzu's theories).

However, Napoleon must have started believing his own reviews instead of sticking with his study of Sun Tzu. His defeat at Waterloo was clearly a case of fighting on a battleground that the enemy, Wellington, knew best. Wellington’s trick at Waterloo was hiding his forces by having them lie down in the slight hollows of this hilly land. This is exactly the type of tactic Sun Tzu warns against in his discussion of terrain tactics.

After Napolean, Sun Tzu's theories made their way into western military philosophy. Many of his ideas are reflected in the ideas of work of Carl von Clausewitz. who defined military strategy as "the employment of battles to gain the end of war."

The first English translation of The Art of War is less than a hundred years old. Captain E. F. Calthrop published the first English translation in 1905. Lionel Giles, an assistant curator at the British Museum and a well-known sinologist and translator, attacked this early translation, and he published his own version in 1910. It soon began to be read alongside Clausewitz’s 8 volumes of turgid German military prose.

It wasn’t long before military thinkers were ditching Clausewitz for Sun Tzu because no one could get past Chapter One of Clausewitz’s On War. The “Clausewitz is dead, long live Sun Tzu” school was first championed by the influential British military theorist B.H. Liddell Hart in the 1920s.  Basil Henry Liddell Hart (1895-1970) was a captain in the British Army. He was a very influential military theorist and historian, and author of several books such as The Future of War (1925) and Strategy (1954). Having witnessed first-hand the mechanised onslaught of the Great War, Liddell Hart sought a philosophy of warfare based in the prudent use of technology, psychology and deception - and the avoidance of the 'total war' catastrophes of preceding decades.

The main idea of Liddell Hart is to bring the set of principles of warfare in a so-called ‘indirect approach’ to the enemy. His advocacy in his scholarly work of an ‘indirect strategy’ over direct, frontal operations, was a reaction to the high casualties of the Western Front in the First World War. But his ideas were not simply about physically outmanoeuvring an opponent. Instead he pushed for a psychological scheme: to strike from unexpected directions, to generate strategic dissonance, and to induce paralysis. Hart’s well-known thoughts are “Only short-sighted soldiers underestimate the importance of psychological factors in time of war”, “Originality is the most important from all military virtues”, and “The principles of war could shortly be condensed in a single word: concentration”. 

Liddell Hart believed that distilling historical insights of strategy and operations would offer the chance to avoid the costly disasters of modern war and ensure a more cost-effective route to success. He imagined technological solutions in the form of air power and mechanised land forces outflanking and shocking an enemy at the tactical level. This would be complemented by taking indirect strategic ‘ways’. Like his contemporary J.F.C. Fuller, Liddell Hart considered concentrations of air and armoured forces driving deep into enemy territory to destroy their ‘nervous system’. The psychological aspects of this were central, since acquiring an advantage demanded moves that were unexpected, with precise attacks at the most vulnerable points. As the most influential military writer of the modern age, revered and reviled by three generations of strategists, armchair and armipotent, his controversial theories of armed attack laid the foundation of the famed German Blitzkrieg.

Hart’s championing of Sun Tzu’s work as articulated through his own works got a new lease of life as the world gingerly settled into the ice bath of the Cold War. The rise of Communist China, against all the odds having defeated the well disciplined nationalist armies of Chian kai-Shek, was a wake up call for the West. There was a general befuddlement among western military analysts to explain the secret of Maoist success. There was an intellectual inquest in the 1950s and 1960s for some way to explain (and, it was hoped, learn to counter) Maoist military doctrine. Sun Tzu was seen as one of the historical and cultural sources of some particularly Chinese or Asian way of war, and his work made its way into Western discussions of counterinsurgency and asymmetric warfare.

Into the breach - and with fortuitous timing - appeared a new translation of The Art of War that was to become the defining translation right down to our day. Liddel Hart provided the foreword to Samuel Griffth’s 1963 translated copy of the Art of War. It was to quickly become a key text in US war colleges and this version is still to this day favoured by most of these institutions. We also studied Griffith’s translation at Sandhurst alongside Liddell Hart’s ideas.

There is no question that Griffith’s translation has become the standard go to translation to this day in military circles - that is until James Clavell’s more populist and looser translation came along in the 1980s. One can see why. Griffith’s translation provided a number of historical Chinese commentaries on the text. It should also be noted that Griffith’s strengths was his immense experience in the military and knowledge of military history as a brigadier general in the U.S. Marine Corps.

However, this was also his version's greatest flaw. Like many other critics I have the impression that Griffith did not really believe or understand all of Sun Tzu. Indeed he would often explain away Sun Tzu's direct statements without making it clear that this was his commentary and not what Sun Tzu wrote. The other main criticism and this one is stylistic and therefore just my opinion, Griffith was also not much of a writer. By our standards today, much of Griffith’s language can seem awkward and dated.

Looking back it feels ironic of the US military were wrapping their heads around Sun Tzu as way to get inside the Chinese communist mind (of Mao the military strategist especially). Unknown to them Mao had desperately tried everything to get hold of a copy of the Art of War from the Chinese Nationalists. Cambridge historian and doyenne of intelligence history, Christopher Andrew in his book The Secret World: A History of Intelligence, wrote that the theory that Sun Tzu’s The Art of War was critical to mastering contemporary warfare is propagated through the use of a tantalising anecdote: “During the civil war between Communists and the Kuomintang regime [Mao Zedong] sent aides into enemy territory to find a copy of it.” The ancient text, ostensibly, was of such vital importance that Mao was willing to risk men’s lives to obtain it, while Chiang Kai-shek vowed to protect it all costs. It’s a questionable anecdote at best as there are no historical evidence of it.

We can say that the notion that Sun Tzu’s slim treatise is considered both potent and slightly dangerous - providing the master key to unlocking victory in war through the ages - is a compelling myth that refuses to die. Mao most likely never ordered a clandestine operation to pilfer the text, nor did Chiang Kai-shek give any thought to shielding its contents from prying eyes. Both men certainly read it long before the start of their civil war, both most likely had ready access to it during the conflict, and neither man won or lost based on adherence or divergence from its teachings. But undoubtedly it set the hearts of Western military theorists aflutter in trying to unlock the secrets of Eastern military thought.

Sun Tzu and his ideas in a reincarnated form took hold of the wider public imagination in the 1980s. The 1980s was synonymous with Japan. With the perceived rise of Japan as a global economic power and the changes in post-Mao China, there was a Western (meaning American) search for more explanations. What was the secret of Asia’s rise? How were Japan and China ‘doing’ this?

In Western business circles it was for a time trendy to read it because of the perception that it was part of what made Japanese businesses so successful during the 70s and 80s. Management gurus and other corporate consultants certainly latched on to it and touted it as a way for Western businesses to re-orient their entire management and business philosophy. I don’t know if that ever actually was the case in Japan - my father who worked in both China and Japan in the corporate world at a very senior level said it wasn’t - but what is true is that in the West as the Japanese economy languished into the lost decade of the 90s so too did interest in Japanese business practices, and thus Sun Tzu.

The idea that The Art of War was a kind of how-to guide to ‘strategy’  was made especially popular by Hollywood in the 1980s. Oliver Stone’s iconic film ‘Wall Street’ seemed to typify the ‘greed is good’ New York capitalist scene of the 80s and 90s. Hollywood mirror imaged the rise of the corporate raiders and junk bond kings like Ivan Boesky and Michael Milken. Hollywood sent thousands of American businessmen off to read Sun Tzu to look for ‘leadership secrets’. This is part of a general Western fascination with ‘timeless Asian wisdom’, the American idea that ‘the mysterious East’ is possessed of secret knowledge. American and European businessmen were enamoured of the idea that “a battle is won or lost before it ever begins”, a saying that reinforced traditional American business attitudes about a winning mentality and a ‘can-do’ spirit being two keys to success.

Because Japan and China were trendy in the 1980s and 1990s it also influenced Western popular culture, not just fashion (think Kenzo) but also comic books (manga) and anime. In this Eastern friendly climate it led a number of popular fiction authors to release their ‘own’ versions of the work to capitalise on its newfound popularity. These versions were more about the pop culture of the era than Sun Tzu. Unfortunately, though popular, none of these versions took advantage of the work completed in Taiwan creating a definitive version of Sun Tzu's text by this time. These versions were based either on old English translations (the Calthorp and Giles versions) or incomplete Chinese sources. However, all of these versions remain popular today, despite their questionable sources and poor quality of translation.

In 1983, James Clavell updated The Art of War translation of Lionel Giles and published it in a very popular version. This started a very common practice in English translation: creating a ‘new’ version from other English translations instead of going back to the original source. Authors today continue to follow this practice, which only perpetuates and exaggerates the problems with early translations.

Thomas Cleary, another well-known author, did his own The Art of War translation with historical commentary in 1988. Again, his name recognition did much to increase awareness of Sun Tzu, even if his work did nothing to improve the general quality of the translation.

Looking back the whole Sun Tzu as a business model fetish in the 1980-90s was really pretty silly, rather like 80s shoulder pads. Of course, there are some similarities in leadership regardless of profession, but the basic goals and working environments of war and of business are so wildly different that applying Sun Tzu to business is superficial at best.

So to me the problem is not that Sun Tzu is ‘overrated’ per se, the problem is that every half baked author out there try to apply its principles to every problems that mankind have. The Art of War, as the title suggest, is not The Art of Managing your Business, the Art of Winning in Competition against your classmates, The Art of picking up Women, The Art of Living Life to the fullest. It is, and only is, The Art of War. It is ‘overrated’ only if you expect it to answer every problems in your life.

The Art of War is not the word of God. It is a war manual advocating common sense with pithy aphorisms - and a very good one.

It’s not that I think the Art of War is over-rated it’s that the more common problem is that many people vastly under-rate Sun Tzu. By misreading Sun Tzu thoughts and ideas, I believe many are in effect under-rating the problems which Sun Tzu is addressing, namely war, or the continuum of conflict resolution where divergence in interests of multiple parties extends to the possible use of lethal force on a massive scale. A lot of people trivialise this problem with idiocies like “what if someone threw a war and nobody came” (clue, they would win, then hunt down and enslave or kill everyone too foolish to contest the issue, as has happened countless times in human history) or “ban war” (said ban apparently enforced by throwing flowers at soldiers).

Understanding that war is a very real and intractable problem is necessary to fully appreciate the genius of Sun Tzu’s work, especially where it avoids fixed and easily definable tactics specific to the Warring States period and instead illustrates timeless concepts of out-thinking the enemy at every level of conflict. That the text is still mostly readily applicable or at least reasonably insightful after thousands of years is a testament to the inability of humans to push warfare beyond the fundamental aspects of conflicting interests and continuum of forcible resolution Sun Tzu addresses.

Still, the particular translation matters far less than having an appreciation that, in war, you have an active opponent who is trying to out-think and counter any moves you make, and having an appreciation of non-dualistic philosophical reasoning more characteristic of Chinese classics generally. The classic symbol of Yin-Yang (and a number of derivative versions) illustrates apparent dualism as being a part of a deeper structural unity which does not permit a fixed division into separate parts.

Hence the difficulty of applying the principles of the Art of War to artificial ideas of “winning/losing” (or war/peace, right/wrong, us/them) as categorical absolutes rather than negotiated possibilities in a continuum of desirability/costs. And it is very difficult, no one should sugar coat that. Humans sort and construct their perceptions of reality by appeal to such gross simplifications. Binary logic is an immensely powerful tool in many areas because it leverages the ability to simplify complexity and then build valid inferences based on fixed premises. But at some point you have to go beyond that to have a more fluid response to reality as it is. Which Sun Tzu does for the reality of war.

I would recommend anyone to read it. At the end of the day it’s a book of highly general aphorisms that effectively synopsise the essential insights that apply to all kinds of human conflicts. Turning an enemy's flank has the exact same effect in 2500 B.C. and in 2000 C.E. and it has the same effect in the boardroom, or public market as it does on the battlefield. Deception and intelligence are still used in exactly the same way, whether conquering foreign lands, or stealing market share from a competitor. It's a book about common sense; but common sense must seem profound to those who have none.

Overall, I think Sun Tzu’s Art of War is a worthy read and not overrated because in our society of over educated achievers, common sense is in as short of supply as it has ever been; if this book can provide the meaningful framework for educating very bright people in down to earth common sense, that can only be a good thing.

The value of the book then is to drive home the fact that, in human conflict, there really is Nothing New Under the Sun (Tzu).

Pardon the pun and thanks for your question.

[inkandpen22]

Time is Irrelevant (1/?): The Mystery of Psychology

Pairing: Eleventh Doctor x Female!Reader 

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.7k 

Part Summary: Y/N is an undergraduate student double majoring in history and English. While she’s cramming away at her research paper she’s approached by a rather peculiar man. 

Masterlist

“History, like love, is so apt to surround her heroes with an atmosphere of imaginary brightness.” 

                                            - James Fenimore Cooper, The Last of the Mohicans

I’ve never imagined myself as one of the greats. They’ve lived before my time and their legacies will outlive me long after I’m gone. The greatest task I can accomplish is do them justice by telling their stories. I must immerse myself in their lives and hope to influence others with their work. I’m merely the surface that the puzzle of history rests upon. Over time, I’ve collected facts from as many historical periods as possible and have memorized them.

I’ve always found history easy to retain. I believe it to be a blessing. Once I’ve heard, read, or watched any kind of information about history I’ll remember it for the rest of my life. My gift made the subject easy for me in school. I also excelled in English. Words resonate with people for generations, they’re needed to retell history. A simple sentence or everyday speech may end up in every history book across the country. Words are equally as influential to our history as our actions. Hence why I’m a history and English double-major. With history comes life lessons, valuable lessons that can only be learned from past experiences. English, words, can impact an entire generation or many, thus influencing history. By telling the stories of the past, I hope to better the future.

___________________________________________________ 

As I review the archives on the Crusades in front of me, my fingers tap against the table to the beat of the music coming from my earbuds in the otherwise silent archives. Many of my friends have never understood how I’m able to read and listen to music at the same time. What can I say? I’m talented. Disregard the fact that I’ve read this book fifty times over so I could practically recite it from memory. I’m kinda mixing wars here by listening to Hamilton while reading about the French and Indian War. Oh well, there are no rules against the action. 

Suddenly, there is a tap on my shoulder. I assume someone must be able to hear my music and is asking for me to turn it down. I close my book as I remove one of my earbuds and peer over my shoulder. I lift my eyes and meet the gaze of a rather handsome individual. 

“I’m sorry is it too loud?” I apologize. 

“Not at all,” he assures me with a gentle smile and I take note of his accent. “I was wondering if you could point me in the direction of information on the French Revolution?” 

The gentleman is lucky, an average person wouldn’t know the archives by heart. I’ve spent nearly every day up here since the early days of freshman year. 

“You’re on the right floor so good job.” I joke and point my finger towards the proper section in the middle of the room near me. “Most of the books on the French Revolution that I’ve been able to find are over there but there are more throughout the library upstairs. Nonetheless, those should be a good start.” 

He grins, pausing for a moment as he stares me in the eye.  “Thank you.” His focus travels to my book sitting on the table. “The Last of The Mohicans, good choice.” 

He leaves, as quickly as he appeared, towards the section I suggested. That man is something else entirely. He’s likely a professor considering he’s down here and his considerably formal attire. Only a professor would wear a bow tie. Then again, he appears awfully young. A TA perhaps? That wouldn’t explain his accent though. He could be a visiting professor. Plus, oddly enough, he knows of my book, not many people I know do. 

I pop my earbud back in and dive back into reading. The whole interaction was short but interesting nonetheless. I’m not sure what it was about him but he was different than most. It could be that he had this awkward charm and I’m not used to people being so polite. For a young man, he seemed old fashioned. His wording was more articulate, could be because he’s British. Normally a guy would say ‘uh hey so like, could you…. um…  show me where the books are for the French Revolution or whatever it’s called? If they have an audiobook or DVD that’s cool too!’ 

Okay, that’s it, I can’t focus after that guy talked to me. I’ve read the same sentence five times over. It’s best just head home, it’s getting late anyway. 

The sun is setting as I make my way back to the apartment. I take the more scenic route by the original brick buildings from the colonial era. Mainly because I like the brick path, especially now that it’s fall and the leaves coat the ground. I’m not surprised to see some boys playing football on the lawn in the center of campus. My first thought is how American they appear, with the crisp leaves scattering the ground, everyone in their duck boots, and playing football. I feel as if I’m in a Lands End catalog.

On the way home, I stop by the student union to fetch a late dinner to take home. I shuffle through the music on my phone, trying to find the perfect playlist for the walk back. I approach the door to the building and the person ahead of me holds it for me as I stare down at my phone. 

“Thank you” I mumble absentmindedly. 

“Oh well hello again!” 

I look up and believe it or not it’s the same man from before. I take notice of his exquisite eyes, their long lashes, and his multicolored uniqueness. I’ve never seen anything like them before. They’re like marbles. A warm chestnut shade toward the cornea but then fades into a ring of emerald that transitions into a deep ocean blue. He has every possibility in one. 

“Oh hey!” I respond politely, “did you find the book you were looking for?” 

He shows me the hardcover book in his hand. “Yeah, thank you so much for your help earlier!” He holds out his hand for me to shake, “it’s nice to meet you...” 

“Y/N,” I answer, accepting his hand. “It’s nice to meet you too!” 

I’m not the kind for such formal introductions. In this day and age, there are rarely introductions just frequent run-ins until everyone becomes acquainted. 

The gentleman stares at me for a second, visibly deep in thought. He continues to hold my hand, but I’m too awkward to remove it. Then, snaps himself out of it, parting from my hand. “Beautiful name,” he compliments, charmingly.

Normally, I would imagine girls swoon over a compliment from a man with his foreign accent. American girls love a pretty English accent. Yet, his attention makes me feel on display. I’ve never been fond of physical compliments. I never know how to respond to them. 

“Are you meeting someone?” I ask.

He looks confused but realizes I’m referring to the building. “Oh! No, no I’m here to get something to eat.” 

 This was nice, but now I’m over being polite because I’m starving. Plus, I’ve been in the archives practically all day working on my research paper for Medieval History for I’m beyond tired. 

“Oh okay…” I stumble over my words, “well, it was nice to you!” I nod, preparing to walk away.

“Would you like to join me?” He asks abruptly before I’m able to escape. 

It’s ironic, I’m a mess and he’s wanting my company. The image of me schlepping around this ten-pound backpack wasn’t off-putting to him, really? 

 “Awesome!” He declares, not giving me the chance to decline his offer before he ushers me inside. “I’ll meet you over there after you get your food!” He adds, pointing over to a specific table. 

I was really looking forward to eating in my bed at home, but I can’t decline anyone and risk hurting their feelings. Sticking to my word, I head over to where he instructed after I grab my usual sushi order. Sure enough, he’s already seated at the table. I notice the fact we’re in the far back corner separated from the workers or the other few eaters this time of night. I place my bag next to me on the floor as I get situated. 

“You like sushi?” He inquires. 

I sway my head from side to side, “Americanized sushi. The traditional raw fish I’ve never tried.” 

He chuckles lightly, “one day you’ll have to try it. It’s surprisingly not as bad as one might assume.”He speaks so smoothly. Does it come naturally or does he have to work at it? 

“One day,” I sigh with a smile. I would love to see the world and experience everything it has to offer. Yet, I’m a poor college student with responsibilities. 

“What’s your major?” He asks, creating casual conversation. 

“I’m a double major, English, and history,” I nod. 

He raises his eyebrows, appearing amazed. “Impressive!” 

“What about you? What do you do?” I’m purposefully vague enough with my questions because I still don’t know whether he’s a student or a professor. He could pass as a graduate student and that’s what has me stumped. 

“Oh uh...” he stammers, rubbing his hands together in his lap. “I’m a doctor.” 

He’s a professor then. I’m having a social dinner with a professor... is this allowed? “Oh okay,” I try to remain unfazed. “What is it that you teach?” 

I’m assuming he must teach history considering the search for the French Revolution book. Then again, I don’t know of any English professors in the department. The topic isn’t really one for some light reading. He could be required to take a history course, though I doubt it. 

“Psychology,” he rushes out an answer. 

Do I ask or is that too bold? Then again, I’ve never really cared about superficial social standards. 

I lean forward in my chair, resting my arms on the table as curiosity appears on my face. “If you don’t mind me asking, why were you looking for books on the French Revolution earlier?” 

He hesitates as if he’s evaluating my question. His features go blank then shift to sternness. Did I say something wrong? Was I not being polite when I asked that? 

“I was picking it up for a friend,” he answers plainly, questionably. 

I don’t believe him, not for a second. I’m no expert in psychology but his eyes glanced to his right while his voice went up a little at the end of his sentence. He’s lying. My heart quickens and I do everything in my power to remain calm. I’m going to play along and act oblivious. Perhaps, he has a good reason for lying.

“I was just wondering because you said you were in Psychology,” I say light-heartedly, waving my hand to dismiss the matter. 

He sighs deeply, placing his napkin on the table. “They said you’d be hard to fool.” His eyes meet mine with a smirk as he leans back in his chair. “You don’t miss a thing do you?” He snickers. 

His words are so ominous they make my breathing hitch as I drop my chopsticks. 

“What?” I calmly question, reaching for my back slowly. 

In a swift movement, he grabs my hand on the table and points a metal shiny thing at my face. I attempt to yank myself free, but he just squeezes tighter. I look into the light radiating from the buzzing object. Then, suddenly, my sight goes dark. This can’t be good.

_____________________________

Masterlist

[eolewyn1010]

Ahoi! Ich schmeiß' auch nen OC in deine Richtung. :D Markus, my immortal from the Roman Empire. He looks like a rather short, thin man in his late 40s/early 50s with greying hair and receding hairline, friendly brown eyes and he tans easily in summer, but is white as a sheet in winter. In fact, he is over 2000 years old and since an accident in his alchemy laboratory he is practically invulnerable and ages only very, very slowly. The story i'll one day write about him takes place in the 1980s-90s, when he has settled in Prague and enjoys the reputation of a quirky old man who lives over a restaurant and collects jazz vinyls. By that time he is sharing his rather spacious flat with a Scottish vampire and a mortal ex-cop who are girlfriends and he is having a great time having this pretend-family after centuries of practically living mostly alone. What most people don't know is that he was co-founder of an organisation that supervises and helps paranormal beings such as himself navigate the world and stay out of trouble. But since he doesn't like politics, he has long since resigned from his position and rather spent the millennia supporting various nowadays unknown artists and collecting recipes for all sorts of dishes because he enjoys cooking. He likes to make fun of pop-culture vampires and immortals for their tendency of meddling in historically important affairs or meeting important people. He just spent his time throwing dinner parties and going tavern-hopping with shipwright Timothy or cobbler Giancarlo, or brewing cough syrup with sister Nuncia of the local hospital, only learning about stuff like Luther's theses or the French Revolution months later because he didn't bother to keep updated on current events and usually wasn't even in the country during the time these things happened. The French Revolution is a sore spot for him though because this really was a test of his immortality - he nearly got beheaded and kept a nasty scar, which is why the Western European men's fashion with its high collars throughout most of the 19th century was very welcome for him. In the 20th century he's sticking to turtlenecks to cover this scar.

Okay, that one gave me a bit of a headache. I basically went the "forget about time and space distance" route and just went with what character combination I found interesting, setting up an entire AU for my character in the process, but I had fun with this, so... just roll with it.

So, Roland is in his mid-forties by now, technically king of his country and practically very sick of it. He's become very jaded finding that, even standing on top of a state, you can't just set a complete turnover in motion by yourself. He was forced to remarry after his first wife's death, and then again after his second wife's death, just because he was expected to make a son, even though he has a perfectly fine and bright daughter from his first marriage - who won't be allowed to inherit the throne because girls are icky or something. Roland basically came to the conclusion that a patrilinear succession sucks, and he and his third wife Christina agreed pretty soon that they won't even try. Having a boyfriend for a while, with Christina's agreement, prompted a murderous mob to try and storm the castle, and the stuck-up nobility of his country forced Roland to send his boyfriend away if he didn't wanna watch him hang. By that point, Roland was both a moderate alcoholic and pretty much done with that bullshit, and realizing that his teenage daughter Irassebeth was less than thrilled with the outlook to fight her cousin for the law of succession just to rule that shithole of a country, he was like, "so long, suckers", took his daughter and wife and ran for the hills.

Which brings us to the present day. I guess as a former king Roland could get into diplomacy business, and he's recovering from alcoholism (which has the neat side-effect of him looking healthier again). He and Christina are divorced by now, and get along famously as platonic flatmates. Seeing how his daughter flourishes in the new environment (seriously, the fashion, the music, the societal contrast to her home - she loves the 80s) has helped him loosen up a bit on the bitterness, although he's not very outgoing and needs some time to crawl out of his shell. But listening through a jazz vinyl collection while exchanging reminiscences of how the world goes round sounds honestly pretty neat. Also, being served on all ends, he has never learned to make his own food, despite being incredibly curious about cooking - if Markus asks him to help in the kitchen with something, cutting vegetables or whatever, that'll be a new highlight for Roland. The not-so-apparent age difference and the supernatural folks around might baffle him a bit because supernatural things were deemed Evil(TM) in his home country, but seeing how badly he has ever gotten along with the social ideas there, he might just shrug it off after a bit of adjustment time. He's not used to being around people who don't try to bootlick him and is very self-conscious about being royalty himself; he can appear kinda softspoken and reticent because he listens mostly to the people around, but if something catches his interest, music for example, he can get really passionate and rambly about it.

[colorseeingchick]

Hey Can I ask for a self ship date pls ? I’m a 18yo girl who is 173 cm of chaos and my heart has been stolen by Kise Ryouta from KNB 😩.

We may be very different, he’s more of a warm and a social person while i’m cold in the clouds and ambiverted but his smile, his laugh and how he’s dedicated in basketball made me lose it. I find his whole personality interesting even the more cold and ugly parts of him and he has the pretty face for him too but i’m not the kind of person who can just fall for apparence. He have such a voice too 😳 He has that charming aura, playful but yet still lighthearted and funny. He being two-faced surprisingly don’t bother me that much somehow i understand from where hes coming from. I relate a lot to his overachiever and need to handle all things himself to the point of hurting. As a basketb fan i am also enamored w his way of playing, i gen think he is the best of gom he always do his best to the point of barely breathing and honestly i relate to this too when im into something i love. His quick learning abilities are hyper and i like how Kise try to be honest w himself. I like also the balance he have w masculine and feminine energy and don’t mind him being a dork. His relationship w others characters are gold too like w Aomine and i can see him showing me affection to my touch starved self and just general affection i lack in general even if i don���t say it. Also i can imagine a certain dynamic between us where no one is the lead of the couple but we’re on equal terms.

Now more about me i am an ENTP 8w7, I am independent, creative, honest, prideful and « generous » i don’t think that last one much but my close one describe me like this. I’m very curious, likes experimenting and new things. I am funny/sarcastic, playful and as it iam very memeable but surprisingly top student here who doesn’t behave like it at all both in class and just in general. My aesthetic is a weird mix of everything i love so i am both a tomboy, alt and a baddie somehow. I am into law and economics studies and can talk french, korean and spanish as i learn languages in my free time by myself. I do read, write, draw and listen to music, play all sort of games including sports, get on a walk from time to time, eat cuz food is delicious and just learn in general. I have kind of ✨trust issues ✨so i don’t have many friends. But you sure will have fun w me ! I don’t about chill i have some temper but sure im pretty cool and open minded ! In love i really am a mess, i’m easily flustered but act cool to hide it and because of that i look like someone confident and mysterious except i am not the first one and ugh im lowkey a tsundere so it’s difficult to assume my feelings. But i swear i try !

Thank you for reading me ! I hope i didn’t bother you much.

You didn't bother me at all hun! This was a lot of fun to write so I hope you enjoy :) I think I have a pretty fun date planned for you two if I do say so myself hehe.

Premise: Kise got to know you throughout high school, and saw you as different from his other fangirls. Even though it wasn’t basketball, you also stood out at the top of your class, making you noticeable to Kise. You were actually a good friend (a cute friend at that) and he decided that he wanted to take you on a date during your 3rd year (once the basketball season was over and he had time to make for you). Knowing how fun you are, he had the perfect plan.

As you look into the mirror to examine your outfit, your phone buzzes with the “I’m hereeee ;)” text. You’d decided to lean into your tomboy vibes, given that Kise told you to ‘get ready to do stuff,’ which was not very informative, but exciting nonetheless.

As you walk out, you’re greeted by the blonde man dressed handsome as ever, a dark long sleeve shirt with fitting jeans, his silver hoop shining as the sun starts to set.

“Ready Y/N-chi?” He asks you, smiling as he overdramatically offers his hand for you to grab.

“Ready as ever~” you say as you grab his hand. He pulls you close and winks, flustering you right from the start.

“If I remember correctly, you said something about this being the best date I ever go on?” You take your chance to poke fun at him as well.

“Oh honey, it will be.” You can see the way his eyes shine and his mischievous grin as he walks with a nice hop in his step, guiding you towards the train station.

The train ride was pleasant, his hands protectively on your shoulder and a mean glare on his pretty features when other men looked at you or got too close, but his face was calm as he comfortably bantered with you (you on the other hand were quite unbothered by it all). Once you finally arrived at your destination, you found yourself in the lively district of the city, flooded with restaurants and shops all open late night.

“I forgot how beautiful this area is at night!” You can’t help but say as you look at all the beautiful lights and architecture.

“I had to take a pretty girl to a pretty place, you know?” He squeezes your hand as he drags you along once again, until you end up at your destination.

“I think this’ll be a lot of fun,” he says to you as he pushes open the doors to the arcade, letting all the dark lights and glowing games illuminate your sight.

He buys the coins for you both to play (He’d asked prior if it’d be okay for him to pay for you this date, and you’d agreed), and you set off to play all sorts of games.

It was a lot of fun for the both of you. While the games were enjoyable, playing them with him made it all the better. He also never missed an opportunity to flirt with you, and playing games made it easy. Both of you being overachievers, with Kise being a quick learner and you being open to trying new things made the experience amazing.

“Here, stand like this and loosen your wrists up for a better shot.” you both were playing the basketball game, and to no surprise Kise had absolutely killed it. Now here he is, helping adjust your shot. Standing behind you, he lightly adjusts your waist, turning you a little bit to help your footing. His hands then move up to your shoulders, then down to your wrists, helping guide your form and placement on the ball. While you were learning from him, it was hard to focus with him this close to you. “Y/N-chi, you can focus on me later. You should focus on your shot for now.” He says lowly, teasingly, watching carefully as your face erupts into red. He really did love teasing you, the usually calm, collected, confident top student.

Admittedly, you feel like you got back at him when you watch him try the crane game (the ones filled with stuffed animals) and he couldn’t get it after 7 tries. The frustration was clear in his face, his impatience rising.

“This game is rigged, I know it!”

You ask to try and of course he complies. However, he’s not ready for you to get a cute little stuffed panda on your first try. Suddenly, he’s a lot more embarrassed than you were earlier.

“You definitely used magic or something.” His pout is both adorable and hilarious to you.

You laugh as you hand him the panda. “Here!”

Looking down at the panda and then looking back up at you, he asks, “for me? But you won it!”

“But I want you to have it. It’s cute like you, Kise-kun.”

A huge smile crosses his face as he pulls you into a hug, spinning you around. “Y/n-chi!!!! You’re so generous!! Giving me your stuffed panda~ I’ll take good care of it.”

You have a nice laugh as you watch Kise end the night out by playing Dance Dance Revolution, not afraid to be a bit flamboyant as he goes all out with the footwork and does really well at the game.

After collecting all your tickets, Kise takes you up to the rewards table, telling you that he knows exactly what he wants to get.

“And we have enough tickets for it! Great.”

You can’t help but smile when Kise points to the GIANT stuffed panda hanging on the wall.

“I thought you weren’t the type to return favors,” you recall what he said during a game with Seirin from a long while back.

He blushes, thinking about what he said. “I’m not, just one upping you,” he jokes, sticking his tongue out at you, letting you nudge him in return.

“Do you wanna get food, Y/N-chi?” He asks, his arm wrapped around your shoulder.

“Sure, from where?”

“You decide. I decided on the arcade, you can decide dinner.” He looks at you with a smile, thinking back on how fun the whole night had been. “But I get to decide dinner next time.”

“Next time?” You shoot back, eyebrows raised, a smile forming on your face. “Who said I’d go out with you a next time?”

At your comment, his smile falters as he stares at you for a good second. He gets all serious suddenly, pulling you close (with a giant panda pressed into your side) and making you look into his eyes. “Y/N-chi, would you please go out with me again? Tell me you will!”

Giggling, you smile up at him. “Of course, Kise-kun.”

He sighs out and hums in approval, before pressing a small kiss onto your cheek. “Call me Ryouta.”

~~

Ahhh I hope you enjoyed it! I tried to incorporate as many elements as I could! Please do let me know what you think <3 this was so fun!!!!

[aziraphales-library]

Hey!!! I’m kinda new, and I’d like to know if you can recommend me some good GO fics? My only request it’s that they should mostly be Teen Up or Gen s fics... and maybe some good AUs (I’m in love with those)

Okay, here we go!! I went a little all out on this post because it’s more about personal preference, but I still stand by it :D

An Angel who did not so much Fall In Love as Settle Into It Gradually by TheLadyZephyr - 7.5k - Rated T

Crowley was standing in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets, looking a little lost. Aziraphale eyed the distance between them. Five steps. Five steps, and six thousand years, and a battlefield spanning an eternity.

The story of the little moments over the millennia that shape an angel’s regard for a demon, and the way he slowly, with great reluctance but inevitable surety, falls in love.

I simply adore this fic. It’s one of those fics that follows them through the ages and its just done so well. I don’t even know what else to say, just that you should go read it, and the fanart is also gorgeous!

Something So Magic by apliddell - 3.9k - Rated G

Crowley gets stuck in his serpent form, and Aziraphale tries his best to help.

This fic is simple, yet adorable, and I cannot get enough of it. 

How Much To Give, How Much To Take by thechemicalgirl - 3k - Rated G

“It’s like…’ he paused, trying to calm down. ‘It’s like after I came back from Heaven and we switched our bodies back, something has happened. I can’t use my power anymore, not even to start the Bentley.”

Crowley loses his demonic abilities and Aziraphale tries to help him cope with it, but things get much more complicated than that.

Angsty, but also soft, and just a great execution of a favourite premise.

In Peace I Will Both Lie Down and Sleep by fizzybiscuits - 5.6k - Rated G

Aziraphale starts having nightmares. For some reason, he doesn’t talk to Crowley about this right away.

Title is from Psalms 4:8. “In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.”

This fic just has everything. It’s a stellar example of an established relationship fic and is cavity-inducingly fluffy.

Be All My Sins Remembered by CloversDreams - 43.4k - Rated T

“The trial,” Beelzebub continued loudly, “will consist of seven tests.”

“Seven…” Aziraphale muttered under his breath. He had a bad feeling about this and it showed. He twiddled his thumbs nervously as he waited for more details.

Crowley scrunched his face and shook his head. “Oh you don’t mean–”

“Correct. The Sins have been charged with the task,” Beelzebub interjected.

“Crap.” Crowley groaned. He slapped his hands onto his face and dragged them downward slowly. This was just what they didn’t need.

Gabriel nodded. He had a rather unpleasant grin on his face as he said, “Don’t know much about them, myself, but they can be a pretty gnarly group of high-class demons from what I’ve heard. On par with the archangels back home. Wouldn’t want to… what’s that delightful human phrase? Oh, right. Wouldn’t want to cock this up.”

Listen, in my opinion, this fic is massively underrated. I unintentionally binged it all in one go because it was so gripping. The angst in some chapters had me practically screaming, and the whole idea is a brilliant take on the seven deadly sins. The pining is magnificent, and I live for the Husbands drama. 

Let Sleeping Snakes Lie by Blue_Sparkle - 2.6k - Rated G

Aziraphale confesses his love for Crowley when he can contain it no longer. Oh, not to the demon himself of course. To a sleeping snake.

Another fic featuring Snake!Crowley, this one is magnificently soft, and I adore the scene in Stardust it’s inspired by. Just can’t stop coming back to read, 10/10 recommend!

Serpent of Eden, Original Tempter by noodlefrog - 33.4k - Rated T

During Crowley’s trial, the agents of Hell present evidence that the demon has been fraternizing with the enemy. Careful to protect Crowley’s pride (and his own concealed feelings), Aziraphale turns on the saunter and leans into his friend’s reputation as a tempter to spin their relationship into something that looks more demonic than lunch dates and feeding the ducks.

This fic combines Pining, Misunderstandings, and a fantastic ‘what if?’ for the execution scenes, and I am here for it. The Original Characters are written fantastically well, and I loved the bonus chapter!

What They Say About Assumptions by DragonGirl - 7.9k - Rated T

While it’s true that God bestowed upon the angels the divine power to sense love of all kinds, that does not mean they were given the ability to sense exactly who or what that love is directed at. A minor design flaw that hasn’t been much of an issue. Until now.

Or:

Aziraphale has known that Crowley loved someone since the beginning. He’s also spent most of that time believing that someone was a demon.

Aziraphale’s obliviousness in this fic was so ridiculous it felt plausible. It was hilarious but also heartwarming, and has one of my fave love confessions. It was angsty as hell in the best way, and I just implore that you read it!

Futile Devices by ticketybye - 3.2k - Rated G

Crowley pretends to sleep. Aziraphale talks.

Just adorable. Cavity inducing fluff and love confessions are my favourite things and god does this deliver on that.

Foolish Principality by seashadows and WikdSushi - 6.6k - Rated M

Upon moving into a South Downs cottage, Crowley gets left alone while Aziraphale rushes to help the new proprietors of his bookshop. Thanks to a miracle gone wrong, Crowley discovers Aziraphale's greatest material secret, and a few things neither of them could ever fully face.

Is rated M but in my opinion there’s nothing too bad in here, though you should judge for yourself. The poetry is beautiful, horrifying masterpieces, and it is honestly fantastically funny and sweet.

——

Y’all know by now that I adore anything by Arinia, but this fic is one of my faves:

Just This Once by Arinia - 2.7k - Rated T

An idea came, slowly at first, before filling up his heart, setting every nerve alight. It might be another decade, another century even, before he saw Crowley again. No one had come to rescue him from Above. No one had chastised Crowley for wasting a miracle from Below. Perhaps, just this once…

The streets of Paris are soaked with blood, and Aziraphale realizes just how much he owes Crowley for saving his life.

It’s freaking adorable, the kissing is fantastic, and I have a secret love of the French Revolution that made me love the fic all the more. Read it, I beg you.

——

As for AUs, I don’t read loads, but I do have some faves!

Neighborly Affection by Thestarlitrose - 4.6k - Rated T - Human AU

Anthony J Crowley was four years old the first time he met the tiny Ezra A Fell; he wasn’t impressed.

He was forty-six when he found him again in a bookshop in Soho.

The Childhood Friends, Flower Shop, Christmas, Friends to Lovers fic nobody asked for in the middle of October.

This fic is a complete tangle of tropes, and it’s also incredibly sweet. Perfect for the fast approaching holiday season!

a book elegantly bound by AwkwardPotatoChild - 6.5k - Rated G - Library AU

Two idiots. One book series.

or alternatively, Aziraphale and Crowley are united over their common love of books and the scheming of one Miss Anathema Device

This fic manages to be both very funny and incredibly endearing at the same time. The book names were hilarious, and I adored Anathema’s matchmaking.

A Jaunt Or Two by sonicsora - 3.1k - Rated T - Human AU

They meet by happenstance twice over, only to end up quite woven into one anothers lives. It’s all quite accidental, but sticks.

Crowley realizes a bit belated he’s quite attached to this man who freely uses the word jaunt and wears cream-colored suits.

This fic is just adorable. It’s sweet, fluffy, and exactly my kind of thing. Also Gabriel’s a dick in the comedic way, which is fun to see.

Restoration by arealshitwizard (gaiusgallus) - 2.6k - Rated G - Human AU

Ok I had this idea in my head and it wouldn’t go away so here is Aziraphale as a painting restorer and Crowley as a flash stock broker… There’s just one chapter sorry for my sins

This is a really unique fic (I know I keep saying that, but it’s true!), and featured such fun interpretations of their characters!

——-

I’m aware that 90% of this list is very specific to my preferences, and that it got a little out of hand, but I hope y’all enjoy the recs anyway! XD

Does the blog have any favourites they’d like to share?

~ Mod B

[vulpes-incendium]

I made this long time ago, but I thought it's a good time to share it here for @aphasiaweek!

I chose 《Hoi Sam☆Nice Guy》over 《Maji Kandou☆Hong Kong Night》because there are more stuff about HK in it. So let's see if the lyrics are accurate in a native's point of view!

Spoiler alert: it's very accurate

Hoi Sam = Happy (in Cantonese)

Guy = sounds like street in Cantonese (gaai1)

“Yooooo, so since there’s a song… while I’m at it I kinda put some effort into my costume… I think I’ve got like, serious swag Pardon? You can’t see me…for real? Woah!!!!”

FASHION: yes, HKers love to be trendy, always want to be on top trends! Trends come and go very very quickly, it's seriously really hard to follow trends in HK.

MIXING ENGLISH WITH CANTONESE: yup, we do that a lot, we almost couldn't finish a sentence without English, some words just sound "uncool" in Chinese lol (it’s always about being cool in HK lol), but we don't really say “pardon” unless we are speaking English

Sup-sup-sup-sup-sup-super mobile (snap snap) It’s my hobby to take pics and collect them (I guess) Not gonna lie, everyone’s got a mobile phone, penetration rate (highest in the world) Yeah! If you’re going sightseeing then Nathan Road! (Fuu~!)

TAKING PICS WITH SMARTPHONE: Aph HK loves taking (embarrassing) photos (of China lol), but in real life HKers do love taking pictures, or videos too (it's dangerous if you misbehave, people would film you and post on Youtube or Facebook)

MOBILE PHONE PENETRATION RATE: I couldn't find data for HK, but I think I heard on average, each HKer carries at least 2 cellphones! So this could be true!

NATHAN ROAD: It's the longest street in HK and there's so many things, good food, good shopping places and yup sightseeing! (A lot of our streets are named after the Governors during the colonial time, this street is named after Sir Matthew Nathan for example)

Welcome this makes me kinda happy (Check it out!) Learned this from England - tea in the afternoon (high tea) Welcome, this is kinda fun (Shake it up!) Yum cha, Hong Kong milk tea, cha-cha Nice culture (frivolous)!

AFTERNOON TEA: Yes, it's still a tradition for us to have tea time, we call it 3:15, workplaces would have tea breaks, restaurants do tea time menu during 2-5pm, it's really cool and cheap! We usually drink HK milk tea (evolved from British milk tea) during tea time and there are so many delicious snacks like French toast, pineapple bun and of course egg tart!

YUM CHA: It literally means “drink tea”, but Chinese tea this time. It's a tradition for us to go Yum Cha every Sunday with our family! Dim sum is part of Yum Cha! We just eat and catch up with each others for HOURS!

Oh. My. God. “LOHAS LOHAS” Oh. My. Mind. “Gonna take a pic~” Take away “Is this delivery service for real?” Like, seriously, even if it’s way out of the way, no problem man

LOHAS: I didn't know what this refers to for a long time, I finally found the answer. This refers to LOHAS park, an eco-friendly residential area newly built few years ago. But what's so special about it? Is it famous in Japan?!

DELIVERY SERVICE: Well delivery service in Asia are generally good anyway, but I guess we are good and fast?! (but I think Korea too!)

Super Feeling unlucky? If it’s getting to you, go villain hitting at Ngo Keng Kiu A medium will perform an exorcism, and hit a paper doll with a shoe For fortune telling, go draw fortune sticks, or get a divine answer by throwing moon blocks at the temples… at Wong Tai Sin, light the fire of your incense! If you’re feeling tired, maybe you can give Feng Shui a try or something? A spiritual site in Lantau Island The Wisdom Path…is super Awesome for meditation, but there aren’t any toilets, so watch out Gold fish, bring me luck! (In money!)

NGO KENG KIU: Generally HKers are not THAT superstitious, but the culture still lives within us. I have never known anyone who did the villain hitting, but it's still quite a thing (and a great tourist spot). It's mainly for people who backstab you (we call them "small people" siu yan), but I guess evil spirit too.

WONG TAI SIN: Again, it's more for older generation who are still a bit superstitious. People like to go to Wong Tai Sin Temple during Lunar New Year to wish for luck in the new year. It's still quite popular!

See I told you we have natural landscape (source)

WISDOM PATH: I've never been there lol. Apparently it's a "path lined with 38 wooden monuments inscribed with the Heart Sutra prayer". In general, HK has a lot of nice hiking trail, our landscape is actually amazing, it's just we focus too much on making money...

P-Pe-Pe-Pearl of the Orient is me! (I guess?) Got completely wasted? Ended up in a dress (totes sick) Not gonna lie, population density is highest in the world in Ap Lei Chau Yeah! If you’re going sightseeing then Hong Kong Island! (Yeah~!!)

PEARL OF THE ORIENT: It's the nickname of HK, the Philippines is Pearl of the Orient SEAS

(Ending up in a dress refers to this comic, thanks parallel France!)

POPULATION DENSITY: Yea, that's what we are famous for really, small place lots of people (HK is a very hilly city, surprise, surprise), we have the most expensive estate price in the world 🤦‍♀️, not sure if Ap Lei Chau is particularly population-densed, but the whole HK is like that!

Good luck in everything this makes me kinda happy (Check it out!) Learned this from England - how to be a gentleman (ladies first) I wish you good health, this is kinda fun (Shake it up!) Typhoon, Kung Fu, WA-TAHH Supplements, Chinese herbal medicine (healthy~!)

LUCK: The newer generations are less superstitious now, but luck is still kind of important for us? It's more like a tradition than a belief, we do them just in case (like Feng Shui).

TYPHOON: As a coastal city, we get typhoons a lot in summer, but they are not as strong in comparison to the Philippines or Indonesia.

KUNG FU: We are known for our Kung Fu films, as the actors are all trained martial artists! Bruce Lee (WA-TAH was his catchphrase), Jackie Chan and Donnie Yen are great examples! Because of the wars and Cultural Revolution, many people fled China to HK, resulting the influx of high quality martial artists (eg. Ip Man).

HERBAL MEDICINE: As western as we are, we still believe in Chinese Medicine, but more in a preventative way.

Oh. My. God. “Air conditioning in full blast!” Oh. My. Mind. “That’s not eco-friendly…” Oh well “The air will become cleaner, I think?” Seriously a Mistake, but, no problem man

STRONG AIR-CONDITIONING: This line had me laugh die (Imao in Cantonese)! It's so accurate! You can catch a cold from the airconditioning in HK! And that's why we always carry a jacket even in summer! It's not very eco-friendly and our government is trying resolve that.

AIR POLLUTION: Yes we have smog (smoke + fog), it is becoming quite the problem really. The root of the problem is that Shenzhen, the city next to HK, is developing rapidly and a lot of factories moved there, so the smoke is blown towards HK (we don't really have many factories left, it's too expensive here).

Awesome Riding on a roofless bus, cruising through the neon streets If you want to, like, go shopping… at Ladies Market There are stalls with cute stuff, souvenirs (lots and lots of them) Talk the price down! Haggling is what really counts For some more miscellaneous and deep junk, more for the adult and thrilling The street where mystery thickens… Temple Street Would you like to try some cheap eats at the street stalls? Absolutely delicious! Asian food is the best!

NEON LIGHTS: You've all seen the stereotypical HK streets full of neon lights, but it's actually decreasing, because there's no newcomers to the industry (the lights are handmade).

LADIES MARKET: You can find so many stuff there indeed, for a cheap price! Branded stuff, fake stuff (we don't make them but yea you can find a lot of them), food and goldfish. Yes, there's a goldfish street. Why? I dunno, for luck I guess?!

TEMPLE STREET: Similar to ladies market, it's also great for shopping. This street is also known for (illegal) prostitution and triad, but it's still safe to visit, never in my life have I encountered any of them.

“Yoooooo, Mister, so I kinda sang this song, but seriously, rapping is surprisingly, like, tough?” “It’s also a shame that no one can see what I’m wearing, I’ve got serious swag, y'know.” “Phew… I kinda want to go home already… I mean, the peach buns are gonna be sold out.” “…can we go now?” “…can’t we go yet?” “Haah…” “Okay fine, like, whatever.”

One, two, three!*

PEACH BUN: They are actually eaten on birthdays, for longevity (that's what peach represents in Chinese culture).

*this line was spoken in Mandarin in the song, which would be the only critism I'd give. Yes a lot of people may understand Mandarin, but Cantonese and English are preferred and they are our official languages. One, two, three in Cantonese would be "yaat, yi, sam".

Oh. My. God. “The rent is really expensive…” Oh. My. Mind. “It’s not easy…” Why oh why? “It’s like, the highest in the world” We have serious inflation, but, whatever

EXPENSIVE RENT: We are the most expensive in the world, thanks to the high population density (and foreign buyers 😶), it's really not easy to afford a flat in HK, that’s why most HKers live with their parents until they get married (it’s also a cultural thing).

INFLATION: Stuff are still relatively cheap, but they are getting more expensive really quickly, mainly because of the rent of the shops.

Super they’re so adorable it hurts, the perfect balance of black and white pandas that bring you happiness… we sell them, sort of So fluffy and cute, such big round eyes The kinda? Make you Happy! Uh-huh

PANDAS: We actually only have 2 pandas here like everyone else, in Ocean Park (it's like an amusement park and zoo). They finally successfully mated recently, probably because of Corona shutdown lol!

There are over 100 of them, Tin Hau Temple, so super Before I head there, I seriously wanna eat… mango pudding! So many gods, like, one in every street Pay homage at the temple, light the fire of your incense!

TEMPLES: We still have the temples built before the colonial time! Hopefully, we are able to keep them too...

MANGO PUDDING: It's so good yes! Our dessert culture is just the best seriously! We have so many restaurants just for desserts! They are great places to hang out with friends after work or school!

The air conditioning at its max, the fire burning strong A steaming hot pot made with a carefully chosen soup base If you want to detox, have a Chinese herbal hot pot Absolutely delicious! Asian food is the best! Riding on a roofless bus, cruising through the neon streets If you want to, like, go shopping… at Ladies Market There are stalls with cute stuff, souvenirs, lots and lots of them Talk the price down! Haggling is what really counts Absolutely delicious! Asian food is the best! Every minute Happy☆Nice Town (Guy)

HOT POT: We love it! We basically love when a lot of people sit together, talking, sharing food (like Yum Cha), it's the harmony and atmosphere that we like so much! And yes, there are a lot of different soup base you can choose from!

BARGAINING: Yes do it, especially if you're in places like Ladies' Market and you're a foreigner, they do price things up if you don't look like a local.

***

Shout out to Takagi Motoki, the voice actor of HK, his voice fits the character perfectly! (and please get a new va for the new season please funimation) And how can he speak so fast?!

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - “Tricked and Treated” (Rated G)

Summary: Aziraphale and Adam bump into an intriguing man and his son while out Trick or Treating. Of course, it is Halloween, and nothing is quite what it seems ... (3415 words)

Notes: This is one of two stories I wrote for A Big Spooky Fan Zine. Be sure to check the rest of the collection for some amazing spooky works from other wonderful fandom creators :)

Read on AO3.

Knock-knock-knock-knock!

“Trick or Treat! Smell my feet! Give me somethin’ good to eat! If you don’t, I don’t care. I’VE GOT PURPLE UNDERWEAR!!”

The chorus of tinny voices dissolves into giggles as a multitude of pint-sized monsters, ghouls, and superheroes wait for the door to open. If it doesn’t … they won’t do anything. Not a one of them is older than nine, and their parents are standing a few feet behind them. But the song is tradition, even if they do tweak the lyrics a bit every year.

Last year, the preferred modifier for underwear had been ‘dirty’, and even though that isn’t age-inappropriate, per se, the parents are thrilled the quorum decided upon a color this year instead.

The group falls silent when they hear heavy footsteps approach from the opposite side. The brass knob turns, and the door pulls in. The children know what to expect, but still, they take a tentative step backward. It’s an old house, but a familiar one; that always has carved pumpkins on the patio at Halloween and handmade wreaths on the door at Christmas. A house that generations of children have run up to on October 31sts past and knocked on its door. Those children grew up and bring their children here to visit the same bubbly lady who never seems to age, always has a smile on her face, and a tray of homemade caramel apples wrapped in wax paper at the ready.

The door creaks open.

The children gasp in anticipation.

Then, she is revealed: a red-haired woman in a flowing, floral kaftan beneath a cozy pink peacoat steps out with her gentleman behind her, dressed in olive drab and menacingly pointing, of all things, his right index finger, as if he thinks it will protect him from the beasties gracing their porch. The woman looks at the crowd of masks and made-up faces surrounding her and gasps in mock fear.

“My goodness!” she says, putting a hand to her mouth. “Look at all these frightful goblins and ghouls at my door tonight! I don’t suppose any of you like caramel apples, hmm?”

“I do! I do!” Hands shoot up, eager to be seen. The woman smiles.

“Mr. Shadwell! Put your finger away and bring me that tray!” she scolds, grabbing up apples on their sturdy wooden sticks when they come her way and handing them out one at a time, receiving a grateful and excited, “Thank you!” with each one.

“I do believe everyone’s parent is present,” she says with a glance towards the ring of adults manning her garden gate, “but if they’re not, you let them know that these apples came from Tracy Shadwell’s own kitchen, so they’re safe to eat.”

“Yes, ma’am!” the kids answer obediently. Most everyone in the neighborhood knows Mrs. Shadwell and her famous caramel apples. For those who don’t, she ties a pink tag at the base of each stick with her name and telephone number embossed on it in gold, should anyone want to verify.

And while she hands out her wares, she looks over each child and comments on their costume – the hand-crafted along with the store-bought – with nothing but the highest praise. As the crowd thins, two boys approach, patiently awaiting their turns. Mrs. Shadwell spots the first of the boys and hands him two caramel apples. She knows him - and his chaperone - very well.

“Why, Adam Young!” she coos at the boy dressed in white satin brocade. “What a stunning costume! Another one from your grandfather’s collection?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the boy replies proudly. “French Revolution era. I’m a political prisoner, about to get my head chopped off!” He drags a finger across his throat in a slicing motion, tilting his head to one side and sticking out his tongue for greater emphasis. His eyes pop as he remembers the best part. “Look! Here’s my head!” He fishes around in his candy bag and pulls out a childishly executed but morbid prop - a bleeding papier-mache head on a stick. It vaguely resembles Adam, having the same hair color and skin tone, but drenched in fake blood and with X’s over the eyes. “I wanted to slather blood all over my neck, but my grandfather said no.”

“I can understand why!” Tracy chuckles. “That costume must be expensive! It looks quite handsome on you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Shadwell,” Adam says with a dignified bow.

“You’re very welcome.” Her gaze lands on the boy standing beside him. “And you! Another scary vampire!” The corners of her mouth tug down as she struggles for a name. “I can’t seem to recall your name, dear. Would you be so kind as to help an old lady out?”

“I’m Warlock,” the boy says, speaking with a pronounced lisp and spitting his consonants, courtesy of the plastic fangs crowding his mouth.

“Here you go, Warlock.” Mrs. Shadwell hands him two apples as well. It wouldn’t be right to give him only one since he’s seen Adam get two. Besides, thanks to her husband’s help, she has a whole army of apples sitting in her kitchen, waiting to be doled out. “Thank you for stopping by so I could see your costume. Give your parents my fondest regards.”

“Yesh, ma’am,” the boy slurs, trying his best not to spit again. “Thank you, ma’am.”

The boys wave politely as Mrs. Shadwell closes her door. They turn together, stepping down from the porch, eyeing one another’s costume as if the two of them are catwalk rivals.

“That belongsth to your grandpa?” Warlock asks, looking Adam’s shimmery outfit up and down.

“Yup.” Adam holds his head high and gives the boy a spin so he can view it from all sides. “Your costume is cool, too. Did your parents buy it? Or did someone make it for you?”

“It’sth vintage,” Warlock explains, tongue tripping over his teeth. “It wasth my father’s when he wasth a boy.” He holds the ends of his cape out wide, flapping the wings it creates.

“Awesome!”

“That’s right, Warlock,” a tall man says, receiving both children when they reach the wooden gate. “It belonged to your ancient, elderly father.”

The man standing beside him chuckles, reaching a hand out to Adam as the boy walks through.

“Well, despite its interminable old age, it really is a smashing costume, Mr….”

“Crowley,” Warlock’s father supplies, extending a hand in greeting. “Anthony J. Crowley.”

“Aziraphale,” Adam’s grandfather answers, taking Crowley’s hand and shaking it. “Aziraphale Fell. This is my grandson, Adam.”

Crowley nods at the boy who is less concerned with the subject of adults’ names as he is with comparing his haul with that of the boy beside him.

“I believe we’ve lost them!” Aziraphale laughs as Adam and Warlock dive into their sacks.

“Bound to happen,” Crowley concurs. “We’re nowhere near as entertaining as chocolate. At least, I’m not. Not to be rude or anything but aren’t you a little young to be a grandfather?”

Aziraphale grins hard enough to make his cheeks ache. “That’s very kind of you to say, but I am much older than you might think.” He narrows his eyes at the man tousling his son’s black hair - suspicious considering his own hair is red. Flame red. Of course, that could come from a bottle. Not that Aziraphale is judging. It looks rather fetching on him. “Forgive my saying so, but I don’t think I’ve seen you or your son around here before.”

“Is that so strange?” Crowley asks, his grin growing tight, but not terribly.

It seems Aziraphale may not be the first person of the evening to mention it.

“No, not really. But we’re a tiny hamlet. Everyone here knows everyone else.” Aziraphale leans in a companionable inch. “All their secrets, too.”

“Ah, well, we’re not from around here,” Crowley admits with a sheepish grin.

“Gotcha.” Aziraphale winks. “It’s no secret that we’re one of the few neighborhoods around that gives out full-sized candy bars by the handful and real popcorn balls – not that stale, store-bought crud.” Crowley’s lips quirk, in shame it seems, and Aziraphale rushes to elaborate. “Not that we mind visitors!” he says, waving his hands as if to wipe away any doubt. “As long as the children have a pleasant time, that’s all we care about. It’s nice to see some new blood around here.”

Crowley stares at Aziraphale, his face blank for a second. His lower lip quivers. He sputters, then he laughs out loud (harder than necessary, Aziraphale feels).

“What?” Aziraphale asks self-consciously.

“Nothing,” Crowley says, reining in his laughter with a snort that Aziraphale can’t help but find adorable. “It’s just been a while since I’ve heard that term. But to be honest, we’re here strictly to socialize. We don’t eat candy.”

Adam, totally engrossed in his conversation with Warlock, catches that last part. His head snaps up, jaw dropping to the ground, utter disbelief written on his face.

“Don’t eat it?” he moans with regret on his new friend’s behalf. “Why not?”

“I’m on a special diet,” Warlock says, looking down at his pregnant bag of sweets.

“A special diet?” Aziraphale looks from Warlock to his father.

“I adopted Warlock from a hospital overseas,” Crowley explains, distracted momentarily by a new wave of Trick-or-Treaters headed their way. “He has a rare blood-borne illness that they were ill-equipped to handle.”

“But … is he okay now?” Aziraphale gazes at the boy’s face, particularly his large, sleepy eyes, dark circles underneath made all the more prominent by his pale skin. Crowley watches the way Aziraphale looks at his son, examining him with an expression of genuine concern, and smiles.

“There is no cure, but we’re managing it the best we can.” Crowley puts a hand on Warlock’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “It helps when you don’t have to worry about trivial things like money. Heartbreaking for those parents in dire straits who don’t have an excess of disposable income. A lot of tough choices to be made when you find yourself in that position.”

“Aren’t you the lucky one?” Aziraphale teases, knocking Crowley playfully on the shoulder.

“It’s old money,” Crowley replies, that sheepish smile from before making a comeback. “I like putting it to good use.”

Aziraphale looks up when Crowley does and meets his eyes – boundless amber eyes that catch the surrounding street lights and flickering Jack-O-Lantern candles in a mesmerizing way, as if with a single blink he could read Aziraphale’s mind.

Or hypnotize him into doing his bidding.

They don’t look human. Snake-ish, more like - slit pupils and all. They can’t be real. They have to be contact lenses. Fake or not, there’s something about them that makes Aziraphale shiver. Crowley notices, grinning devilishly. Aziraphale laughs.

He’s letting the magic of the evening get to him.

Or the magic of this charming man.

From the corner of his eye, Aziraphale catches Adam yawn. He fishes his watch out of his pocket and checks the time.

“Oh my goodness!” he exclaims. “Look at that! When did it get so late?”

“We’re not going home now, are we?” Adam asks, whining the way tired children do while fighting back a yawn.

“I’m afraid so, my dear,” Aziraphale says. “You’re just about dead on your feet, and I can’t carry you all the way back to the house. Besides, I promised your mother and father I’d have you tucked in before they got home.

“We’d better be heading out as well,” Crowley says, wrapping an arm around his son’s thin shoulders and holding him close.

“Do we have to?” Warlock asks, sulking into his father’s embrace.

“I’m afraid so.”

“All right.” Warlock turns to Adam, who yawns again, shaking his head to dislodge the exhaustion from his brain. “It was nice meeting you, Adam.”

“It was nice meeting you, too,” Adam says.

“Do you guys …?” Aziraphale starts, not eager to see this captivating man disappear so quickly. “I know you said you aren’t from around here, but …”

“We’re in Mayfair,” Crowley says, anticipating Aziraphale’s question. “About two hours give or take, as the bat flies.”

“Ah.” Aziraphale casts his eyes down dejectedly. “That’s quite a distance to travel for conversation and candy you can’t eat.”

“We’re also visiting family. Family that we’ve been looking into visiting more often, maybe even moving closer to, so who knows? You could be seeing us around?”

Aziraphale nods because if that question implies what Aziraphale hopes it does, the answer is definitely yes.

“Who knows?” he echoes, hoping Crowley catches on to the fact that he’s flirting. It’s been a while, and he was never very good at it to begin with. “We might end up neighbors.”

“Maybe,” Crowley says, the word a vague promise but a promise nonetheless. It leaves Aziraphale with the feeling that if those plans to move fall through, he may still see Crowley again. “I could take you out for a bite?”

Aziraphale smiles, cheeks flushing red and not from the chill in the autumn air.

“I’ll take you up on that.” Aziraphale reaches into his pocket and pulls out his business card. “You can reach me at this number. I have a bookshop in Soho. I’m there most of the time … even if the sign on the door says closed.”

Crowley takes it, slipping it from between Aziraphale’s fingers and sliding it into his inside breast pocket. “Clever of you, really. Who wants to be bothered by a bunch of busybody customers anyhow?” He smooths down the front of his jacket, patting the pocket keeping Aziraphale’s business card safe.

That subtle touch of his palm to the spot makes Aziraphale tingly inside.

“Here …” Warlock, watching the exchange between the two men, holds out his bag of candy to Adam “… I want you to have this.”

Adam’s eyes grow big as saucers, his face lighting up at the offer of a sack of sweets as big as his own. “No way! Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Warlock says with a sad, one-shoulder shrug. “I wasth gonna hafta throw it out anyway.”

Adam looks up at Aziraphale, eyes pleading. “Can I?”

“I don’t see why not. It would be rude to turn down such a generous gift.”

“Yes, it would,” Adam agrees, reaching for the bag and taking it reverently. “Thank you, Warlock.”

“Don’t make yourself sick eating all that candy in one night,” Crowley says.

“Oh, I won’t!” Adam assures him. “I’m going to share it with my three best friends! Hey! If you come back, I can introduce you!”

“You would do that?” Warlock asks.

“Of course! There’s always room for one more in our group.”

“Now, you see, you must come back,” Aziraphale says when he’d meant to say ‘We’ll see, boys. We’ll see.’ He doesn’t want to appear pushy. He doesn’t regret it an inch, though, when he notices the new look in Crowley’s eyes - the one that says he’s prepared to move heaven and earth to make that happen.

If it’s because of the promise of new friends for Warlock or to see him again, however, remains to be seen.

“I guess we will,” Crowley responds.

“Have a safe evening, Mr. Crowley. Warlock.” Aziraphale raises a hand and waves good-bye, backing away, pulling Adam along with him.

“And you as well, Mr. Fell. Adam.” Crowley waves back, turning down the street with Warlock in tow.

Crowley and Warlock weave through several pods of children racing up to houses and knocking noisily on doors. They walk against the flow of revelers, ending in a dark street with no lamps lit, no decorations on the porches, no Trick-or-Treaters anywhere to be seen.

“Did you have a good time?” Crowley asks.

“Yesh.” Warlock reaches up and spits out the false teeth that had been covering his fangs, glad to be rid of them at long last. “That was a blast! Adam and his granddad are really nice. Don’t you think they’re really nice?” Warlock asks, vibrating with the enthusiasm of … well, an eight-year-old on Halloween.

“Yes,” Crowley agrees, turning one last time, using his supernatural vision to find the man and his grandson walking down the street. Crowley doesn’t believe for a minute that Aziraphale is that boy’s grandfather, but he couldn’t get a read on him … as in he couldn’t read Aziraphale’s mind like he can with other humans. Adam’s neither, which makes the two of them that much more enticing.

Aziraphale looks over his shoulder and bites his lip as if he knows he’s being watched. Crowley eyes the dent his teeth make in his skin, lingering on it and licking his lips. If his heart were still beating in his chest, it would be racing out of control by now. “They were great. With any luck, we’ll be seeing them again.” Crowley puts a hand over the pocket with the business card hidden inside and smiles. “So,” he says, clapping his hands in front of him, “are you ready to give it another try?”

“Yes.” Warlock sounds confident, but he looks ready to puke. “It’s just … I’m not as good at it as you are.”

“It takes practice,” Crowley says, and with a snap of his fingers (which is entirely unnecessary - he does it solely for dramatic effect), he changes - shrinks down, sprouts wings, keeping only his serpentine eyes and a tuft of his red hair.

Crowley transforms effortlessly.

Warlock manages the feat with a little less finesse and a frantic snapping of fingers, but even though he’s only done it about a dozen times, he makes a handsome young bat. Father and son circle the neighborhood once to stretch their leathery wings and then rise high into the air. From this height, they can see everything, the whole of London stretched out beneath them. Crowley manages to spot Aziraphale and Adam one last time, then heads towards the ocean, disappearing into the night.

***

“Here we are, Adam,” Aziraphale says, opening the door to the Young house and ushering his charge inside. “If you hurry, get yourself washed up and into your nighttime clothes, you can sort your candy until your parents get home.”

“Can I have a piece or two?” Adam asks, gripping hard to the handles of his bags. “Or seven?”

“Three,” Aziraphale counters.

“Five?” Adam negotiates hopefully.

Aziraphale bobs his head back and forth, taking his time on purpose.

“Four,” he decides. “Final offer.”

“Deal!” Adam takes it. No need to tempt fate any further. He races off towards the staircase, burdened by roughly sixteen pounds of sugar weighing down his arms, but stops at the bottom step. He looks at Aziraphale thoughtfully for a moment before he speaks.

“Aziraphale?”

“Yes, Adam?”

“Warlock and his dad … they’re vampires, aren’t they?”

Aziraphale smiles to himself and nods. Crowley and Warlock are as much humans as he and Adam. Aziraphale is an angel, tasked by the Almighty Herself to care for the Antichrist, ensure he never comes into his power and brings about the end of the world. He’s been on the lookout for demons since Adam was born.

Which should make striking up a conversation with a vampire inadvisable.

But Aziraphale doesn’t believe Crowley meant to do them any harm. He didn’t come across as the dangerous sort of evil. For one thing, he didn’t seem to recognize Aziraphale and Adam for what they are at all. And a vampire adopting a son? Aziraphale has never heard of such a thing. Vampires tend to be opportunists. What could Crowley possibly have to gain by doing that? Still, Aziraphale can’t let his guard down, not for a minute. He isn’t sure what Crowley was trying to pull, but he hopes he gets the chance to find out. “Yes, I believe they are.”

“Cool,” Adam says with an awe-consumed grin. “I hope we see them again.”

Aziraphale pictures Crowley in his mind: his fair skin, his steep nose, his red hair, and his snake-ish eyes. Aziraphale has seen his share of demons, but they’ve all been wretched. Not Crowley. Crowley takes pride in his appearance, that’s for sure. It reminds Aziraphale of the sad state of his wings. He must groom them as soon as time permits.

“So do I, Adam,” he says, planning for later tonight when young Adam is asleep. Wing grooming is a messy business, one he’d prefer to do in private. “So do I.”

[verytiredowl]

A character analysation of IdV’s Bloody Queen

Bloody Queen AKA Mary is a hunter in the mobile/PC game Identity V. She is personally my favorite hunter because she is easy to learn but hard to master. Her backstory is something that has always interested me though, so i decided to compile my thoughts onto this one post.

Something i appreciate about IdV’s character roster is that some of them are based off of historical characters, and interesting ones at that. So expect a lot of history lessons and references that should be explained in order to understand a character fully (especially with Mary considering how there isn’t a lot shown about her backstory through promotional content, and im talking about stuff like the official website here).

With that in mind, let’s just get into it.

There is not a lot we know about Mary other than the fact that she is inspired from a mix of stories, those being about a French queen named Marie Antoinette and Bloody Mary. These two are used in seperate ways, Marie Antoinette’s story being used as heavy inspiration for Mary’s backstory and lore, while Bloody Mary is a visual/gameplay inspiration.

Mary’s description on her info page and on the official idv website is 

This is strange because it really tells little to nothing about Mary besides her being aware that the position of a queen means a lot of vulnerability. It also strikes me as weird because every other hunter has a fleshed out backstory being written under this tab. (With the exception of Guard 26)

So overall, the ground to work on is pretty small, we dont have a lot of info revealed to us, and therefore leaves her to be a character who loses a lot of potential on a writing stance.

Intro Video

Mary does have an introduction video, though, which explains the base of what happened to her Pre-manor. 

The video explains how Mary was the queen of a country that had a bad financial crisis which was so bad people couldn’t afford food (if we are sticking fully to the Marie Antoinette inspo, this was in the 1790′s) and the public felt as if Mary didn’t care enough to help her people, the citizens voted her to be beheaded under a guillotine. Truth be told, Mary was actually trying to help her citizens by giving them cake.

We have probably the most lore information about Mary from her deduction descriptions, which explain her career as a queen more in detail, about struggles she had and her situation in general.

Deductions

(Credits to u/mawile94 on Reddit for the images)

The first conclusion is clearly telling us that the king Mary married had a problematic family, and the king’s family probably only looked at Mary as someone who will keep the family’s name up, someone who will have a child with the king. (Also, dont get confused: Maria Theresia is Mary’s mother’s name, not her actual name.)

Mary used to spend a lot of time away from the palace in Petit Trianon, which is a manor located in Versailles. The secret letter tells us that Mary was egoistic, naive, and was kind of a glutton. The letter mentions how rumors are powerful, and are going to spread really fast once word comes out about the “incompetence” and lacking abilities witihin the royal family, which will eventually be Mary’s demise.

Princess Lamballe is once again a historical recreation of actual Priness Lamballe, a part of the Savoy House (Western EU country). In real life, Lamballe was actually the confidante (someone who you would discuss private matters with as a royal) of Marie Antoinette after her 1 year old marriage came to an end. IRL, Princess Lambelle dies along Marie Antoinette’s side as she gets killed in the French Revolution. 

The shameful secret can really only be assumed to mean that Lamballe was actually Mary’s secret affair, especially looking at how all evidence suggests that the actual royal family Mary is connected to seems to be a mess. Mary is kind of confirmed to be wlw from this deduction which is fucking cool, but this rumor mightve been what also caused Mary to be beheaded. (But, IRL, the king Artois considered Marie to be physicially unattractive or even smart enough for him, in contrary to him, where he apparently was attractive. He did end up making up with quite a number of mistresses. But let’s not get into a conversation about how unhealthy or toxic royal relationships were in the 1700′s)

this is obviously saying Lamballe is being replaced by the Yolande (Countess of Polignac) as her confidante. IRL, this happens because the Countess of Pilognac and Lamballe start having quarrels against each other, in which they try to win over the queen’s heart, and over time Marie ends up preferring Yolande’s company. But Lamballe feels as if Yolande was a bad influence on the queen, yet she could do nothing about it. The friendship between Lamballe and Marie remained regardless, and she constantly admired Lamballe’s loyalty toward her.  "She is the only woman I know who never bears a grudge; neither hatred nor jealousy is to be found in her." 

Mary finally has a child, and it is a girl. Here we see the reinforcement of Lamballe’s loyalty, but with this conclusion also being titled as a rumor, it is also telling that this is one of many reasons people will start getting suspicious of Mary’s possible affairs.  

This conclusion only leads me to believe that one of the several reasons why Mary was treated the way she was by the public was because of jealousy towards her life and the things she achieved at a young age. The description of the people who are spreading the rumors are bitter, sour people who take joy out of seeing the bad in successful people. Here is where it all goes downhill (as evident by the subtitle under the deduction title.)

We will once again need a little bit of a history lesson for this one:

Koblenz, first of all is a city in Germany. The reason why the French would ever think of even setting up anything in Germany was because of the French Immigrants, and the reason why the Germans were cool about this was because the archbishop-elector (one of the chiep bishop electors) was the uncle of Louis XVI-a persecuted king of France. Along with the refugees that entered the city, two of them was Louis XVI’s brothers: The Count of Provence and the Count of Artois. them, along with Louis XVI’s cousin, Prince Louis Joseph formed an army of aristocrats who would seek to fight for the Ancien Regimé (The name of the political and social system that was popular in France at the time.) In the meantime back in France, the Royal Family gave in and decided to adopt the  Constitutional Monarchy, which was very modern at the time. This deduction description just basically explains that this is where Mary and the royal family fucks up, i just thought it would be interesting to know what they actually meant by what they wrote.

Yolande has left behind the Royal Family and made a run to escape the country. If you’re wondering, at the start of the revolution Princess Lamballe was actually in Switzerland, but as soon as she got notified of the situation she revisited the royal family to aid them, and reassumed her position.

This letter in particular is pretty cut-and-clear: the intention of the revolutionists was to smudge the royal family’s name in the dirt once and for all. What real-life anti-monarchist propaganda would consist of at the time was promiscuous imagery of Lamballe and the queen as lovers to further “besmirch” the queen’s reputation.

This is just obviously hinting at the aftermath of the French Revolutions and also telling us the present (at the time the letter was written). Mary gets executed by the Guillotine, and-well we all know how the rest of the story goes.

Overall, Mary’s deduction story is just a short summarization of what actually happened before and during the French Revolution: it even added the details of how actually sketchy and corrupt the royal family within was, not just the dissatisfaction of the public. As a summary of what this meant for Mary, as the Hunter, she feels pure bitterness, and anger towards the citizens for the way they treated her and the people around her. And as we can see, there was no reference towards Bloody Mary what-so-ever, and the reason why that is is because according to the Chinese version of IdV (which is what the original game’s region/language is) Her name actually would translate to “Madame Red”, not Bloody Queen. I think it was just the translators having fun with words, and since her design is very similar to that of what a person would think Bloody Mary looks like, i guess it made sense to them lol

But regardless, we’ll still take a look at Mary’s design.

Mary’s design is simple compared to other hunter designs in IdV. A simple, ball gown which was originally white, but turned red due to Mary’s beheading, pools of blood dropped all over her body. Mary also used to have long hair, but assumed by the very broken looking locks of hair, her hair probably was cut down by the guillotine. Eagle-eyed people will also take notice to her neck, which is stitched back onto the rest of her body, which the designers wanted to include really bad since its prevalent even in concept sketches as well:

Mary’s gameplay design is based solely on mythologies about Bloody Mary, however, which makes things kind of confusing, but i guess thats what idv excels at the most lol

anyway, you’ve reached the end! if you have read this far, thank you so much, i put so much effort and research into this and i hope people will make good use of it. I also hope i made you more interested in playing mary and/or the French Revolution, lol  but thank you for reading this!!

references:

The Count of Artois and the Coming of the French Revolution by Vincent W. Beach 

The Princesse de Lamballe; a biography by Hardy, B. C. (Blanche Christabel)

My history textbooks

And wikipedia lol

[wanna-b-poet31]

Aziraphale and Food

So, stick with me for a moment: Why do we almost universally essentialize Aziraphale into a glutton? 

Like yes, he eats, and yes, to our knowledge he’s the only known celestial creature (Christs and Anti-Christs notwithstanding) to eat on screen, but he never really eats to excess. In fact, I don’t think he eats food because he’s a hedonist (I mean he is a hedonist, but maybe not for this), BUT rather because it provides him an excuse to be with Crowley. 

Sounds ridiculous right? It shouldn’t be right, right? We see Aziraphale eat alot over the course of the show, we see him enjoy eating, and we never see Crowley eat ever. So, it can’t all just be a ploy to be with Crowley?  Right?

I mean he certainly enjoys eating, I’m not fool enough to say he isn’t getting any pleasure from dining out.  Just look at his face as he appreciates the sushi! Joy! 

And this calm, happiness follows Aziraphale when later in Ep. 1, Crowley takes him to the Ritz in an attempt to persuade him to save the world.  And, to celebrate surviving the end of the world with his boyfriend best friend, the first thing they do once they’re free, really free of Heaven and Hell and their abusers, is going to the Ritz. 

So I’m not proposing that Aziraphale doesn’t eat, or that he doesn’t get any enjoyment from eating >I mean look at how his face falls he is When Gabriel asks why he’s eating food, proceeding to call it “gross matter”, and eating it “sullies” his heavenly temple.  It’s straight-up heartbreak, as Aziraphale glances down at his spicy tuna roll.  (and let’s not forget or excuse that what Gabriel is doing here is abusive) <

However, if Aziraphale’s interest in food is simply selfish or gluttonous, then we must have seen him eat plenty of times without Crowley or the expectation that eating would be a vehicle for their social interaction.

We don’t.

AZIRAPHALE + SUSHI

Just think back to the above scene that establishes Aziraphale’s character. 

This is the only scene with Aziraphale and food that does not include Crowley. And sure, he is alone in a sushi place, before being rudely interrupted by Gabriel’s garbage attitude. Crowley doesn’t isn’t there now, he’s not ducking under the table, or jumping out the window, or materializing himself anywhere else but there to avoid being seen by Heaven. So, clearly, this must be proof of Aziraphale’s undying attachment to food. 

Case Closed.  Diagnosis: Gluttony plain and simple.

However, if this is true, how do we explain his peculiar behavior in this restaurant? 

For starters, immediately after receiving his food, he’s striking a conversation with the chef -- a chef who knows his NAMEd, not Mr. Fell, not some pseudonym, not simply addressing him like another customer, but as a friend (at least an acquaintance).  Perhaps even more telling is not that Aziraphale and the Chef know each other, but that Aziraphale -- I’m a bit out of Practice is French IN FRANCE -- has gone out of his way to learn Japanese to converse with this person, treating him with the respect of a friend, not someone who is here simply for food alone. This is social. 

Then there is a small chime, indicating a supernatural presence has entered the building. (We hear the same chime when Crowley rescues his ass from a guillotine) And notice how unsurprised he is by the sudden supernatural presence. He’s expecting a guest.

Couple this information with Crowley’s behavior at the graveyard (he acts like he wants to get the hell out of Dodge even before he’s tasked with delivering the Anti-christ like he’s got a prior engagement) and the knowledge that the A40 goes straight through Soho.  

I think it’s reasonable to conclude that he’s expecting Crowley. 

Notice how he pointedly looks to his left upon hearing the magical chime.  We see in the next (below) shot, that he’s not turning to the door, but to a mirror.  So why look there if not because Crowley always is on his right?

His face instantly drops and an overjoyed expectant look turns to a terse, forced polite smile when he sees Gabriel, not Crowley, has joined him. And while he defends eating, we don’t see him eat (even after Gabriel leaves). I think, perhaps unintentionally, this is the scene that tells us why Aziraphale eats. 

Pretext.

AZIRAPHALE’S SOCIAL CALL, CROWLEY’S BUSINESS DEAL

Let’s look at the first time (temporally) we see Aziraphale broach the idea of food. In the early years and in Heaven, Aziraphale doesn’t volunteer any interest in food or social interaction. However, in Rome, things are clearly different.

>check out where I purpose Aziraphale falls in love with Crowley in Rome here<.

Notice how in the opening shot, Aziraphale isn’t eating. There’s no drink in his hand, no grapes in his mouth, nothing to indicate that he has been eating, or socializing.  When suddenly!! He hears a voice, and stops, his game piece hovering over the board as he realizes Crowley is nearby. 

Only when after he approaches Crowley, does food enter the conversation Hearing Crowley order gives him the perfect in, the clearly acceptable, casual social relationship that no one could question.  He can see that Crowley, like him, has changed and that the demon is giving him limited responses, barely joining the conversation. 

Aziraphale tries-- he honest to God tries -- to start a conversation without pretext, without some kind of excuse to join in the welcome, and frankly comforting, company.  He asks “still a demon” trying, oh so haphazardly, to make it about work, kind of like when someone is asking you about the weather, and it blows up in his face, earning him the wrath of his friend. He simply can’t be the one to initiate business conversations because it, as a pretext for their relationship, is always off the mark, and comes across as dismissive of Crowley’s demon identity. 

Only when he talks about food does he manage to get Crowley to open up, and accept his presence. He gives Aziraphale the all-clear to continue talking to him, and Aziraphale fucking jumps on it.  It’s extra fascinating how both parties leave this scene with two radically different uses for food. For Aziraphale, it is a safe pretext to get Crowley to open up, but for Crowley, it seems to be Aziraphale’s main interest, not him. 

Crowley also doesn’t seem to get that Aziraphale is not equipped to talk shop, and needs the security in being in a sanctioned social interaction.  Friendly talks like the ones they’d shared earlier were comforting to Aziraphale, getting him to open up in a way that no other character had successfully managed.  He means for this, and more importantly, he NEEDS this to be social. To be a kind of friendship, partnership, that he doesn’t get from Heaven. There’s security in being casual, social, and nothing more than that. 

However, Crowley can’t talk about himself in any meaningful way. He mentions he’s never had oysters before, his sarcasm missing Aziraphale only to have him be surprised when Aziraphale tries one last jab at the business talk. The “let me tempt you” gets his attention, but he doesn’t relax until Aziraphale, “no, I suppose that’s your job”, or when Aziraphale diverts the conversation back into their work.  

Both walk away from this conversation thinking “yes, I know how to talk to him now” Except, they don’t. Aziraphale doesn’t recognize Crowley uses their work as a catalyst, and Crowley doesn’t recognize that for Aziraphale food is a catalyst, not the product, he desires. 

A MISCOMMUNICATION

When Crowley asks for a “favor”, a work lunch, we can see how the two fundamentally misunderstand how food is being used, and how the other thinks food is being used.

The whole exchange about the crepes, boils down to Crowley opening the door with “remember that work favor?” and Aziraphale responding with “I don’t remember the work pretext, but I remember sharing crepes with you”. 

Notice it’s not I had crepes, nor is it a focus on the food itself. It is Aziraphale emphasizing the shared part of the shared experience, not the details (which we get to see by the way) of being rescued or of accusing Crowley of starting the revolution, and Crowley explaining that neither side had started it, but the humans had.  All Aziraphale cares about is their relationship, but can only safely use food as his point of reference because it allows him to share time with Crowley.  

Contrast this with how Crowley’s perspective. Even just asking if it was one of Heaven’s or Hell’s is cementing the conversation as a work lunch, reminding Aziraphale (and perhaps himself) that they’re only allowed a professional relationship, not a social one, and he gives himself the pretext of work.  Neither recognizes that there is a cross in the symbolism. 

THE SHIFT

Things do shift, at least for Aziraphale, and food works a second role. Romance.

In the 60′s Aziraphale doubles down on using food to facilitate his relationship with Crowley because now he explicitly us that, “He can’t have [Crowley] risking [his] life, not even for something dangerous” which I think means “I’m afraid of our relationship without the pretext and safety that food has provided us me.” The danger is having their mutual feelings of love being discovered, so he’ll give Crowley the holy water as a symbol of that trust.  

But when he continues as uses food to roadmap a relationship free of the pretext, “Maybe one day we’ll go for a picnic, dine at the Ritz” is indeed a literal example of what their relationship could be but it also acts as a promise that “Maybe, one day we can go on a picnic, or dine at the Ritz without the excuses, and simply be us enjoying food, not us using food as a safety net”. It’s a road map that he will continue with the pretext, and he’s alright if Crowley is tired of using it to be around each other, but he needs it, not always, not forever, but for now, it allows him the comfort that he is protecting Crowley’s safety (as well as himself). 

Crowley counters this moment with, “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go”  which I argue translates into “I will dismiss the pretext now in a heartbeat, I’m not afraid of the consequences, I could ‘eat’ with you now”, but Aziraphale can’t risk it. “You Go too Fast for me Crowley” is a warning that he can’t have Crowley risking his life for him. We talk often about how Crowley has self-esteem issues, but so does Aziraphale, he does not see himself as being worthy of such a risk. So, he needs the pretense of food to function without (much) worry about what Hell would do to Crowley if they were discovered. 

Unfortunately, they’re not speaking the same symbolic language, and as pointed out earlier, their wires are crossed. 

CONCLUSION 

In the beginning of the show, Crowley uses “no more fascinating little restaurants where everyone knows your name” specifically as a selling point, appealing to his presumption that Aziraphale’s love of food outweighs his love of the demon. He’s seen Aziraphale eat, and enjoy himself, clearly, at least Crowley thinks this tactic is reason enough to get Aziraphale to stay.  Which points to the fatal flaw of Crowley’s reasoning.  He only uses it because saying “we’ll never be able to talk to each other again” doesn’t even register as something he can say because he doesn’t value himself as enough for Aziraphale to consider saving the world. Food, however? Food has acted as a catalyst for understanding, but Crowley mistranslates “catalyst” for “produce” and presumes that because Aziraphale uses food to talk to him, he must love food, and not him. He’s wrong.

It’s not until they both throw out pretext and realize “shit, the song and dances we’ve been doing have not allowed us to rely on each other in the way we need” that they can move forward. And, after Armagedon’t they do just that, leaving the garden, and the remnants of their loyalties to other parties, and dropping all pretext, and just enjoying each other’s company as equals. 

Ending the series at the Ritz, celebrating their closeness is likely not the last time they’ll ever share a meal, but it is likely the last time they will under the pretense that food is Aziraphale’s central desire and not Crowley.  Sure, food is something Aziraphale mostly enjoys, but it no longer is an excuse. If he eats, it’s for enjoyment and personal choice, not a means for hiding or protecting Crowley anymore. And for Crowley, “tempting” Aziraphale to a bite of lunch without the expectation of a favor, or repaying a favor, removes his similar reservations about pretext. He no longer has to rely on work to simply “be” with Aziraphale. 

TLDR: Aziraphale uses food as a social excuse to spend time with Crowley

Thanks for coming to my TedTalk, next time I’ll write too much about Crowley and retraumatization

[addictedtoeddie]

The full Esquire Spain interview translated from Spanish:  

Eddie Redmayne trial: guilty of being the most talented (and stylish) actor of his generation

The Oscar winner talks about what it means to premiere a film with Aaron Sorkin (The Chicago 7th Trial on Netflix) and filming the new part of the most famous saga of all time under the watchful eye of its author, J.K. Rowling.

By Alba Díaz (text) / JUANKR (photos and video) / Álvaro de Juan (styling) 10/23/2020  

At the Kettle’s Yard Gallery in Cambridge, stands alone and leaning on a piano Prometheus, a marble head made by Constantin Brâncusi, and the only piece of art that Eddie Redmayne (London, 1982) would save from possible massive destruction. He tells me about it as he leaves the filming set of the third installment of Fantastic Beasts in the early days of an autumn that, we suspect, we will never forget. It begins to get dark as the actor nods seriously: "I promise to do my best in this interview."

Eddie Redmayne made himself in the theater despite some voices warning him that he could not survive in it. "Many people were in charge to tell me that it would never work, that only extraordinary cases make it and that I would not be able to live from this professionally." Even his father came home one day with a list of statistics on unemployed young actors. Redmayne, who is extremely modest, polite and funny, adds: “But I enjoyed theater so much that I got to the point of thinking that if I could only do one play a year for the rest of my life… I would do it. And that would fill me completely.

Spoiler: since then until today he has participated in many more. He set his first foot in the industry when he debuted at the Shakespeare’s Globe Theater and won over critics and audiences. He then landed his first major role in My Week with Marilyn opposite Michelle Williams. And then came one of the roles of his life, the character he wanted to become an actor for, Marius. With him he sang, led a revolution and broke Cosette's heart in Les Miserables. “I found out about the Les Misérables auditions when I was shooting a movie in Illinois. Dressed like a cowboy. I picked up the iPhone and videotaped myself singing the Marius song. I always wanted to be him ”.

Now Redmayne is an Oscar winner - thanks to his portrayal of Stephen Hawking in The Theory of Everything - and the protagonist of one of the most important sagas in history, Fantastic Beasts. He plays the magizoologist Newt Scamander in it. When I ask him what it means to him to be the protagonist of a magical world that is so important to millions of people, Eddie sighs and takes a few seconds to answer. “I have always loved the Harry Potter universe. Some people like The Lord of the Rings or Star Wars ... But, for me, the idea that there is a magical world that happens right in front of you, that happens without going any further on the streets of London, that. .. That exploded my imagination in another way.

During the quarantine, J. K. Rowling, who has been in charge of the script of the film, sparked a controversy through a series of tweets about transgender women. Redmayne assures that he does not agree with these statements but that it does not approve of the attacks of some people through social networks. The actor was one of the first to position himself against Rowling alongside Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson and other protagonists of her films. "Trans women are women, trans men are men, and non-binary identities are valid."

After having spent a while talking, Redmayne confesses to me that he has never been a big dreamer not to maintain certain aspirations that ended up disappointing him. So he has always kept a handful of dreams to himself. One of them was fulfilled just a few weeks ago with the premiere of The Trial of the Chicago 7, a film written and directed by Aaron Sorkin that can already be seen on Netflix and in some - few - cinemas. “I was on vacation with my wife in Morocco and the script arrived. I think I called my agent before I even read it and said yes, I would. She probably thought the obvious, that I'm stupid. After that, of course I read the script, which is about a specific moment in history that I knew very little about. I found it exciting and a very relevant drama in today's times. "

And it is that having a script by Aaron Sorkin in your hands is no small thing. Eddie Redmayne has been a fan of his work ever since he saw The West Wing of the White House. “His scripts have delicious language and dialogue. As an actor, it's fun to play characters that are much smarter than you are in real life. That virtuosity is hard to come by. I really hope that audiences enjoy this movie and feel that there is always hope. " He remembers that since he released The Theory of Everything he has recorded, to a large extent, English period dramas, “and although the new Aaron Sorkin is not strictly contemporary,” says Redmayne, “to be able to wear jeans and shirts and sweaters instead of so much tweed is great ”.

Besides acting, art was the only thing the actor was interested in, so he ended up studying Art History at Cambridge University. “My parents are quite traditional and when I told them I wanted to act they gave me free rein but on the condition that I study a career. And I'm very grateful for that because ... Look, beyond that, when I play a real character I usually go to the National Portrait Gallery in London quite often. There I lock myself up. Now, for Sorkin's film, I went through a lot of photographs and videotapes. Art helps me to be more creative, to get into paper ”. If he were not an actor, he would be, he says decidedly, a historian or perhaps a curator. "Although I think he would be a very bad art curator."

Against all logic, Eddie Redmayne is color blind. But there is a color that you can distinguish anywhere and on any surface: klein blue. He wrote his thesis on the French artist Yves Klein and the only shade of blue he used in his works. He wrote up to 30,000 words talking about that color with which he became obsessed. “It is surprising that a color can be so emotional. One can only hope to achieve that intensity in acting. "

Like his taste for art, which encompasses the refined and compact, Redmayne seems to be in the same balance when it comes to the roles he chooses. When I ask him what aspects a character he wants to play should have, he takes a few seconds again before answering: “I wish I had a more ingenious answer but I will tell you that I know when my belly hurts. It's that feeling that I trust. In my mind I transport him to imagine myself playing that character. When I read a script I have to really enjoy it. You never fully regret those instincts. It's like when you connect with something emotionally. "

So we come to the conclusion that all his characters have some traits in common. "You know what? I never look back, and this is something personal, but I do believe that there is a parallel between Marius in Les Misérables trying to be a revolutionary, someone who is quite prone to being distracted by love but at the same time is willing to die for his cause, and Tom Hayden from The Chicago Trial of the 7 who was a man who had integrity and was passionate and fought for the things he believed in. So I suppose there may also be similarities between a young Stephen Hawking and Newt Scamander. There are traits in common in all of them that I don't really know where they come from ”.

When we talk about the year we are living in, in which it is increasingly difficult to find hope, we both let out a nervous laugh. "There must be," Redmayne says. “There is something very nice that Tom Hayden, the character I play in Sorkin's film, said to his former wife, actress Jane Fonda, just the day before she passed away. He told her that watching people die for their beliefs changed his life forever. In that sense, I also think about what Kennedy Jr. wrote about how democracy is messy, tough and never easy ... As is believing in something to fight for. I look at history and how they were willing to live their lives with that integrity to change the world and I realize that somehow that spirit still remains with us. " We fell silent thinking about it. "There must be hope."

I tell him about my love for Nick Cave's blog, The Red Hand, and one of the posts that I have liked the most in recent weeks. In it, the singer affirms that his response to a crisis has always been to create, an impulse that has saved him many times. For Redmayne there are two activities that can silence noise: drawing and playing the piano. “When you play the piano your concentration is so consumed by trying to hit that note that you can't think of anything else. Similarly, when you draw something, the focus is between the paper and what you are trying to recreate ... There I try to calm my mind.

Before saying goodbye, I drop a question that I thought I knew the answer to, but failed. What work of art would you save from mass destruction? "How difficult! I could name my favorite artists but still couldn't choose a work. Only one piece? Let me think. I am very obsessed with Yves Klein, but I would stick with a work by Brancusi. There is a sculpture of him, a small head called Prometheus, in Cambridge's Kettle’s Yard, on a dark mahogany piano. The truth is that I find it very ... beautiful ”.

Before leaving, he confesses to me - with a childish and slow voice - that he would like to direct something one day. We said goodbye, saying that we will talk about his next project. Next, the first thing I do is open the Google search engine. "P-r-o-m-e-t-h-e-u-s". Although Eddie Redmayne has trouble distinguishing violet from blue, he doesn't have them when choosing a good piece. He's right, that work deserves to be saved.

* This article appears in the November 2020 issue of Esquire magazine

Source: esquire.com/es/actualidad/cine/a34434114/eddie-redmayne-juicio-7-chicago-netflix-entrevista/

[oceanera12]

How the KRIFF is Obi-Wan still a Jedi?

Okay, so I know Jedi Apprentice isn’t canon anymore

But until Disney writes a new backstory I’m sticking to it so get over it

Obi-Wan aged out of the Jedi and was a Jedi farmer on Bandomeer. That’s right: a JEDI FARMER. 

The only reason he got out was that the Force was sick of Qui-Gon’s crap and basically screamed at him: “HEY. THIS KID. HERE. YOUR PADAWAN. NOW.” In other words: Obi-Wan offered to blow his head off his body to save a planet from blowing up.

Then not even a year later Obi-Wan LEFT THE JEDI ORDER

I ain’t making that up.

He flat out left because he wanted to help something that might as well be compared to the beginning of the French Revolution. Aka: it all fell apart after a month or so. Whoops.

So Qui-Gon reluctantly took Obi-Wan back as his Padawan, but he still wasn’t super happy about it.

There’s a bunch of other stuff that happens but we’ll sum it up with Obi-Wan almost dies a lot.

Then Mandalore comes around and Satine is introduced into his life.

He almost left the order (AGAIN) for her but she never asked because she’s noble like that.

Then Episode I happens which sums up to this: His Master is killed by an impossible to kill Sith apprentice. Said Master (who wasn’t exactly 100% on board with having Obi-Wan as an apprentice at the beginning of their apprenticeship) then asks this twentyish year old to train a kid they met a few days ago because FORCE DARN IT HE IS THE CHOSEN ONE.

Obi-Wan being Obi-Wan promises he will and then proceeds to do his best on this kriffing kid. At one point, Anakin wants to leave the Order as well so Obi-Wan feels like a failure ninety percent of the time during this apprenticeship.

Oh and he accidentally set off a war. I mean, his rescue started the Clone Wars so that has to be something that keeps him up at night.

Anakin then becomes a Knight and then gets his own Padawan. 

Also, Obi-Wan joined the Jedi Council at some point and now has to put up with their crap.

On top of that, Satine is back and Force, she is just as beautiful and stubborn as he remembers.

Also: remember that Sith apprentice that killed his Master? Well, he is now back and kills a bunch of innocent people and a few Jedi to get Obi-Wan to come out and play. Oh, and then he kills Satine in front of him and proceeds to send Mandalore into war, the very thing Satine despised. Thanks for that Maul.

Next, his Padawan’s Padawan is thrown out of the Jedi Order on charges of a crime she didn’t commit, then declines to rejoin after she is proven innocent. So now Obi-Wan has to try and help his old Padawan move on from this loss.

Cut to Episode III: His clone battalion and ever-faithful Commander Cody tried to murder him. They missed but the rest of the clones didn’t (mostly) so now his Jedi Order (his family) is dead. Also, his Padawan fell to the Dark side and he now has to fight him. And apparently, Anakin was married and his wife is expecting so that’s stressful. So Obi-Wan chops off Anakin’s limps and leaves him to die because even though he murdered all the younglings, padawans, knights, and masters at the temple, he still can’t kill his brother. Obi-Wan then watches Padme give birth early, lose the will to live and die. Then he takes Luke to Tatooine and is ordered by Uncle Owen to stay away from them.

The next twenty years is Obi-Wan on Tatooine in self-proclaimed isolation where is watches Luke from afar but is not allowed to interact with the boy. (And with the Disney Plus show coming out who knows what else the Galaxy is going to throw at this guy!?)

Also that Sith Apprentice who murdered his master and his girlfriend? Yeah, he FINALLY dies here (aka, Obi-Wan kills him again).

Obi-Wan then saves Luke’s life, inadvertently gets Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru killed (R2 was there for him). Then he trains the boy for maybe two days then marches to his death at the hands of his once brother.

Then he has to ghost around with Luke because this kid is as bad at listening as his father was.

Obi-Wan Kenobi: “No really. I’m fine.”

Bonus Round:

Ben Solo was named after him. Maybe he’ll prove to be as strong against the Dark side as the original!

He burned down an entire Jedi School because he woke up with his Uncle standing over him lightsaber drawn.

I don’t know, maybe ask what the kriff his Uncle was doing before you jump to the, “He’s going to kill me!” thing.

To sum Ben up; Dark Side obsessed and killer of millions of innocent people who pulled an Anakin and joined the Light side again just before dying.

So Anakin, why did you join the Sith? Because you were afraid your wife was going to die. And then you just ended up killing her yourself.

[carewyncromwell]

Anybody want some more POTC AU? Well, this time we’re getting some focus on our Davy Jones (Finn McGarry @theguythatdraws, based on this concept) and our Commodore “Carey Weasley” (Carewyn Cromwell)! In the original films, their respective roles are on opposite sides of the fence (hell, Davy Jones kills Norrington in the movies damnitDisneyNorringtondeservedbetter >>), and even in this AU, Davy!Finn has some history with Carewyn’s brother Jacob...so how will they interact, when they collide? We’ll just have to wait and see...

17th-18th century pirate ships were -- in a bizarre way -- tiny, floating representative democracies, about 50-60 years before the American Revolution. In a world where nearly all European countries were run by kings chosen by “divine right” and one could usually only “rise above their station” through fighting in wars or through marrying someone of a higher class, pirate ships operated under the idea of “one man, one vote” and their captains both were chosen by popular vote and could be replaced at any time, oftentimes rather peacefully. The Age of Enlightenment sparked by thinkers like John Locke started in the midst of the Golden Age of Piracy and really kicked off as soon as it was over, circa 1730. Those same ideas ended up inspiring both the American and French Revolutions in the later 18th and early 19th centuries...so yeah, in a weird way, you could draw a direct connection between the values and grievances against the monarchy expressed by pirates to the ones expressed by America’s Founding Fathers and the figures of the French Revolution!

Previous part is here, whole tag is here...and I hope y’all enjoy!

x~x~x~x

When the Flying Dutchman returned from Tortuga, the brig was stuffed to the brim with about two hundred prisoners -- and yet, even with that, Cutler Beckett was not pleased. None of those captured were particularly well-known or wanted pirates: instead the group largely consisted of retired pirates, pirates’ families, or other such refugees from the law who hadn’t committed any crimes except through association.

“The pirates refused to be taken alive, Beckett,” spat Jones impatiently. “All of the ones we captured fought to the death rather than be imprisoned.”

“Admirable excuse, Jones,” said Beckett airily, “but at present, we need prisoners to interrogate -- and although you may be comfortable dealing with dead men, they don’t do much good for us that way. Unless you can give us the location of Shipwreck Cove yourself?”

Jones’s eyes flashed dangerously. Alas, he couldn’t answer that question -- and so Beckett railroaded him.

“I’ve come to the conclusion that you need some oversight, Jones -- so from now on, Commodore Weasley and my associate, Patricia Rakepick, will remain on board the Dutchman...just to make sure things run smoothly.”

Jones watched as a line of soldiers escorted the Dead Man’s Chest on board his ship. He had felt the presence of his heart earlier, but it being so close made his chest feel like it was on fire, blazing with wild, storm-like emotions he hadn’t felt in years that made him want to hit something, scream in pain, and burst into tears all at the same time. It was agony, after so long, and it made Jones whirl on Beckett with a murderous expression.

“I will not have that thing on my ship!” he snarled.

“Perhaps you will not, but I will,” said Beckett.

He glanced at Rakepick. “Did the key Jones handed over work?”

Rakepick dangled the key to the Chest off of her finger with a smirk. “Aye -- I checked it before we brought it over.”

“Good.”

Beckett returned his gaze to Jones.

“From here on out, you shall answer to the Commodore and Madam Rakepick for your orders -- all orders, naturally, that come directly from me. Should you not, they will have the authority to discipline any misbehavior.”

Jones’s gaze flickered over Rakepick and then over to the shorter Navy-dressed officer standing perfectly straight beside her.

The Commodore -- yes. This was the one called “Carey Weasley” -- Black Jack Roberts’s younger sister and, as per Jones’s deal with Jack, his future crew member, Carewyn Cromwell. She truly didn’t resemble her brother much at all, Jones thought: it was little wonder no one had made a connection between her and the infamous captain of the Tower Raven. And Jones thought, it was irony at its finest, the thought that one of the people Beckett was using to restrain him was in fact destined to scrape before him instead, within the next two months.

Jones’s gaze returned to Beckett pretty quickly. He snapped his claw at his side as he loomed over the much smaller man.

“The Flying Dutchman sails as its captain commands,” he said fiercely.

“And its captain will sail it as he is commanded!” Beckett shot back, his usually detached and arrogant voice betraying some real aggression for the first time.

Jones’s crew muttered among themselves, both shocked and a bit intimidated. The leader of the East India Trading Company took several steps forward, his eyes boring into Jones with pure contempt.

“I already disposed of your pet,” he said softly. “I would hate to have to also dispose of you so quickly, when you might still have some use.”

Despite saying this, it was clear that Beckett felt no compassion for Jones’s life at all.

“This is no longer your world, Jones. There’s no place in this new world of ours for the immaterial. In short, the immaterial...has become immaterial. Best you learn that quickly, and fill the new role you’ve been dealt.”

Jones loathed having the two red-haired women and their battalion of Navy soldiers aboard. Although a lot of the time neither of them spoke to him, he hated having their eyes on his back and hated knowing that they as agents of Beckett’s were there to be his “leash.”

Rakepick flaunted her authority noticeably more than Carewyn did, dictating their course and openly contradicting Jones’s orders. About the only time Carewyn seemed to speak up was in response to the treatment of prisoners -- while the Flying Dutchman sailed back toward Port Royal, the Commodore frequently checked on the condition of the prisoners in the brig. One of Jones’s sailors even reported to him that he’d seen her bringing one of them a Bible on request. It was odd, considering that every single one of those prisoners was going to hang as soon as they arrived in Port Royal, unless they had “valuable information” to give. Unfortunately the only valuable information that Beckett wanted were the identities of all seven Pirate Lords, the significance of their “Pieces of Eight,” and the location of Shipwreck Cove, the last secret pirate haven on Earth -- and, to every prisoner’s credit, if any of them did know the answers to those questions, they refused to say...perhaps because they knew that it’d be the place the pirates who were able to escape the Dutchman’s attack would go.

Carewyn escorted the prisoners on shore to Port Royal, while Rakepick stayed behind with the troops aboard the Flying Dutchman. When she arrived, she met up with Percy, who had been in charge of the fort in her absence. The hangings started the very next day. A long, long line of prisoners all locked in irons pooled out of the brig and were walked one by one closer to the gallows. In groups of seven, they were sent up to the hangman’s noose -- men, women, even children -- all without trial and without any chance for mercy...all thanks to Lord Beckett, and by extension the King of England who had given him that power. It broke Carewyn’s heart standing on the sidelines with Percy, unable to do a thing to stop it.

Cutler Beckett arrived in Port Royal in the midst of the executions, looking incredibly smug. It took everything in Carewyn to not yank out her pistol and stick in his disgusting, weasel-like face...especially when he brought her and Percy away from the gallows to speak to them privately.

“I admit, Commodore...your plan has not produced the intelligence I wished for,” said Beckett as he considered the map in front of him. Once again, he was playing with a silver piece of eight absently in his right hand. “But it has been a very effective showcase of the British Empire’s new position on piracy. My proclamation would’ve lacked the proper teeth, without such a visible display.”

‘You’re despicable,’ Carewyn thought, hatred pulsing through her heart as a tiny boy was placed up on a barrel at the gallows.

“Thank you, sir,” she said lowly.

Percy glanced at the gallows too, and he winced at the sight of the boy standing on the barrel.

“It’s unfortunate that the information they offered was not useful to you, Lord Beckett,” he said, his voice betraying some hesitance. “I thought that the locations the boy provided for where the Dennis and the Andromeda make berth and the routes the Blackbird uses to plunder ships seemed promising...”

“You think too small, Captain,” said Beckett.

There was a rather arrogant gleam in his eye as he glanced from Percy to Carewyn, the piece of eight lingering between his pointer and middle finger.

“Chasing pirates one at a time would take up more resources and time than I have a desire to use. What I want is to bring order to this world -- and to do that, all pirates must be dealt with...either by being brought into line to serve our interests, or by being disposed of. And to do that, the pirates’ spirit must be decisively crushed.”

He glanced at the piece of eight between his fingers.

“...How much do you two know about the Pirate Brethren Court?”

Percy turned to Carewyn. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

“I’ve heard of it, but I’m afraid I don’t know much.”

That was a bald-faced lie. Charles Cromwell himself had been one of the original Pirate Lords ages ago, before the curse no doubt interfered with his old duties and the Mediterranean was taken over by someone else.

“They are -- from what I understand -- representatives, who only gather whenever pirates as a whole need united leadership,” said Beckett. “They are a Parliament for piracy -- one that selects a ‘King’ to represent them all, in times of crisis.”

Percy frowned in confusion. “A King chosen by the people? I’ve never heard of such a thing...”

“Pirates do not believe in divine right,” Carewyn explained. “Even when it comes to their captains, the crew can vote to replace them at any time.”

Percy turned to Beckett. “...Then do you think the pirates will attempt to convene this ‘Brethren Court,’ in response to the attack on Tortuga?”

‘That’s definitely what I hope...’ Carewyn thought to herself.

Beckett nodded. “I am assured of it.”

Carewyn’s eyes drifted away, back up to the line of chained prisoners still being forced up onto the gallows.

“If they were to convene this ‘Court’ of theirs and select a King, my Lord,” she said softly, “it sounds like they could be a greater threat than ever. Individual pirates might be more expensive to chase one at a time...but if they were somehow able to unite, they could create a formidable army.”

Beckett raised his eyebrows. “I did not think you would fear a War, Commodore.”

“Not at all,” said Carewyn. “If the British Navy could stand toe to toe with the Spanish and French, we should more than be a match for a smattering of rag-tag galleons -- especially with the funding of the East India Trading Company behind us...”

Her eyes narrowed a bit more as they swiveled over to Beckett’s face.

“...But...if you were to advocate such a mission, you’d be at the head of the charge for it. Its success or failure would rest on your head more than any of ours...regardless of any efforts we might make to protect your reputation.”

Beckett’s lips curled up in a smile that held no warmth.

“Your concern is appreciated, Commodore Weasley,” he said, and his eyes seemed to gleam upon her. “But I assure you...I’ve waited long enough, to get the revenge I’m owed...”

He turned his focus to the piece of eight coin in his hand.

“After the injuries I’ve sustained, thanks to one of these ‘Pirate Lords,’” he said in a very soft, cold voice, “I have no intention of letting them live in peace. Wherever they decide to make their final stand...I shall be there to meet and destroy them.”

He slammed the coin down into the table with a slap of his hand, making both Carewyn and Percy flinch despite themselves.

After the hangings were complete, Carewyn returned to the Flying Dutchman, once again leaving Percy in Port Royal. The youngest Weasley brother was troubled by the thought of Carewyn being on board Jones’s ship, and she tried to reassure him as best as she was able.

“Captain Jones has to follow Lord Beckett’s orders just as much as we do,” she said softly. “Regardless of who he is, he’s been impressed into our service...it wouldn’t be in his best interest, to fight against that.”

Percy, however, didn’t look very reassured. His gaze kept flickering up to the Dutchman, even though he tried hard to look Carewyn in the face.

The Commodore offered her surrogate younger brother a smile, resting a hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

“It’ll be okay,” she reassured him gently.

Percy stared at Carewyn for a long moment, his brown eyes dark with emotion. Then, very abruptly, he actually threw out his arms, grabbing hold of her and pulling her into a full hug.

“Percy?” said Carewyn, completely taken aback.

Percy didn’t say anything -- instead he just gave her a squeeze, his chin resting on her shoulder. Although he was facing away from her, Carewyn could hear a faint shakiness in the breath he took.

“Come back safely,” he mumbled, his voice harsher than normal as he tried to keep his composure. “You hear me? Come back just as you are now.”

Carewyn’s blue eyes filled with pain as she realized what was going through Percy’s head. Yes, he was scared for her safety, but it wasn’t just because he cared about her -- it was also because, with the loss of Charlie and Bill, his real brothers...she was the only family Percy had left, here in Port Royal. The only sibling he could rely on, for emotional support.

Her heart filling with compassion and affection for the young Captain, she brought her arms around Percy tightly in return, resting a hand on the back of his head and cradling it as though she were his mother.

“We will see each other again soon, Perce,” she murmured in his ear. “I promise.”

After she and Percy parted ways, Rakepick met Carewyn at the top of the ramp heading up to the deck of the Flying Dutchman. The older woman gave Carewyn another long, analytical look as she came up on deck, which Carewyn returned with a much shorter, faintly suspicious look. She didn’t like how Rakepick looked at her. It just made Carewyn feel like she knew something...but Carewyn frankly had no idea what that “something” was. One thing Carewyn did take note of, however, was the chain she wore around her neck and tucked under the low collar of her red jacket -- the chain that no doubt held the key to the Dead Man’s Chest.

That night, after all of the officers went to sleep, Carewyn entered the Dutchman’s captain’s cabin and ordered one of her lieutenants to send Davy Jones to her. Jones was not pleased to be summoned to his own cabin, least of all by the Commodore Beckett assigned to “watch” him.

“I cannot be called like some mongrel pup,” he snapped.

“Yet you came,” said Carewyn coolly. “I appreciate the promptness.”

Jones looked incredibly surly. The ginger-haired Commodore looked at her lieutenant, who was trying hard not to cower in Jones’s shadow.

“Go ahead and return to your patrol down below with the Chest, Lieutenant,” she told him. “I’ll take it from here.”

The scared young man gave a salute and then quickly left the room. Once the door was closed, Carewyn turned up at Jones with a much grimmer look on her face, her arms crossed behind her back in standard “Naval” fashion.

“...Captain Jones...Lord Beckett has ordered that we seek out Shipwreck Cove.”

Jones’s lip curled. “I believe I’ve already made it clear that I don’t know where the damned Brethren Court meets.”

“I know you don’t. And I’m glad for it.”

Jones’s eyebrows knit together suspiciously. Carewyn’s eyes flickered absently over to the door as she listened for a moment to make absolutely sure no one was listening it.

“...I don’t want Beckett to find Shipwreck Cove,” she said lowly. “I don’t want him to send Navy ships after us once we’ve found it and destroy it. Just as I frankly don’t want you under Beckett’s rule at all.”

Jones gave a loud snort. “Haha! And I suppose this is all out of the goodness of your heart, this...sympathy you deign to spare such a pathetic wretch as me?”

His eyes hardened as he bore down on her, dwarfing her with his height.

“I don’t need your pity, Carewyn Cromwell,” he said very coldly.

Carewyn was visibly taken aback.

“Oh, aye,” said Jones with a smirk, “I know your name. A ferryman of the damned knows everyone’s true names.”

Despite how taken aback and faintly disconcerted Carewyn was, however, she didn’t seem intimidated. Instead she kept her posture straight and tall and looked Jones straight in the eye.

“Then you know why I don’t want Beckett to succeed,” she said seriously. “A lot of people I love are probably on their way to Shipwreck Cove right now. As much as I know a battle will be imminent, I want them to initiate it. I don’t want Beckett to get there before they’re ready.”

“So you aim to make a deal with me, then, Miss Commodore?” asked Jones, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

“No,” said Carewyn firmly. “I just want to set you free.”

Now it was Davy Jones’s turn to look startled.

“I don’t believe in anyone being impressed into service against their will -- least of all by a captor as cruel and despicable as Cutler Beckett,” the Commodore said, feeling glad to finally let loose her bile a bit. “And if getting your heart back to you so that you can do as you please makes it that much harder for Beckett to destroy Shipwreck Cove...all the better.”

“Ah...so you think to trade my assurance that I won’t attack Shipwreck Cove for your services,” said Jones coolly. “Well, I hate to break it to you -- but I have no love for the Brethren Court myself, since they took all ownership of the seas for themselves. I daresay your dear granddaddy told you all about that...”

“‘The seas be ours and by the powers, where we will, we’ll roam’ -- yes, I know the song,” said Carewyn. “But that doesn’t matter. I’m not asking you to help the Brethren Court. I’m not asking you to help me with anything. I plan to set you free whether you want to be nice to me or not.”

Jones’s eyes narrowed as they flickered over Carewyn’s face, analyzing her critically. At last he raised his claw the way a man might raise a hand, but its size made it so it came within inches of her face.

“...Let me make sure I have this right, missie,” he said lowly. “You’re offering your assistance in restoring my heart to me...without making any sort of deal with me that benefits you?”

Carewyn nodded, not flinching at all in response to Jones’s claw getting into her personal space.

“Because you being free helps me, as it is -- by making things harder for Beckett.”

Jones considered Carewyn for a long moment. Whatever he had been expecting from the sister of Black Jack Roberts, it certainly wasn’t this. Even from a sanctimonious Navy officer, he didn’t expect this level of...well, for lack of a better word, decency...especially for someone who had showed her no kindness and she owed absolutely nothing to. He never would’ve admitted it aloud...but it impressed him.

‘Seems a bit of a shame that such a decent person should be fated for a lifetime of service aboard my ship,’ Jones thought to himself.

Perhaps because his heart was so close to him, the thought made some reluctance and guilt pick at the inside of his chest.

Pushing the feeling aside, the captain of the damned lowered his claw again. Then very, very slowly his tentacled face spread into a fuller, brighter smirk.

“...What do you have in mind?”

[schrijverr]

I Wrote My Own Deliverance

Chapter 10 out of 10

Alexander Hamilton is reborn as Alex Hambleton. He is desperate not to make the same mistakes twice, but it seems he is stuck in the narrative, unable to get out. Familiar faces pop up all around him as he attempts to keep his previous life a secret and write himself out of the story.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none, but tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!!

~~~~~~~~~~~

“- Oh my god, you have been roommates with Aaron Burr for over a year!”

Alex winced. He’d hoped everyone had forgotten that detail, but it seemed not as the entire room exploded once more. With a last “What the shit, Alex,” from Laurens the room fell quiet to look at him expectantly.

He shrugged and said: “I made my peace with Burr, he’s pretty cool.”

And with that the whole room was send into disarray again.

“How!” John shrieked, “He murdered you!”

“Yeah and he had his reasons. I hate to inform you, but I was the one that said yes to the duel and insulted him the whole way through.” Alex shot back, “Besides, I thought we had just established that this time things can be different. If I can believe in Aaron, I can believe in myself. So far he’s been nothing but civil to me, he’s just another student wanting to live his life.”

It was quiet for a moment and Alex offered: “And Betsy already punched him, so even-Steven?”

“Only you, Alexander.” Eliza face palmed.

“I try.” he grinned.

“Wait,” Angelica said and Alex was scared of what she remembered, “You already knew at the party. Why did you come if you knew you would get punched?”

“First of, I didn’t want to assume and I only put the pieces together when the fist was already flying at my face. Second, I kinda did deserve that.” he told her.

“That’s not exactly healthy.” John pointed out, but he shut up after a look from Alex, the other had too much dirt on him and John was honestly the last who could talk about fighting as a coping mechanism.

Alex stuck his tongue out, as he turned and grabbed his phone: “Speaking of the party and Aaron, I probably need to find him before he does something stupid with his self-esteem issues and blame complex, like no offense, but our last meeting was not the most important thing ever.”

“You died.” Lafayette pointed out.

“Happens to the best of us,” Alex shrugged, “Case and point.”

“Ego much.” John grumbled and Alex just smiled as he called Aaron anonymously, the man probably wouldn’t pick up otherwise.

“Ah, yes, with me, Alex, your favourite and only roommate.”

“No, I’m not here to yell at you. I would have done that already if I wanted to.”

“Yeah, naturally, I never come back on my words.”

“They’re here yeah, already yelled at me and stuff.”

“I cannot with a 100% certainty promise that you will not get punched, but I am willing to try and convince them otherwise.”

He hung up and turned to the others: “Aaron is coming over, be nice.”

“Why would I be nice.” John pouted, arms crossed.

“Because, my dear Laurens, I have forgiven him and he could use some friends.” Alex explained.

“I’m with John here, I don’t want to be his friend.” Eliza mirrored John.

Alex smiled and said: “I know, Betsy, I know, but he hasn’t had it easy either. Even more of a nay-sayer and all around stick in the mud this time around. He has no one, you know how much it sucks to have no one.”

“Theodosia?” she asked, but Alex could tell her bleeding heart was giving in.

“Hasn’t come back, yet.” he smiled sadly at her.

“Alright, I won’t punch him then.” she threw her hands in the air.

They turned to John, who moped: “Whatever, but I’m not going to be nice.”

“Oh come on, man.” Herc said, “Making fun of Burr was always fun, it’ll be like the good old days when we were right and he told us to shut up.”

“You have a warped idea of fun, mon ami.” Laf told him.

“Like you weren’t there every single time to join in.” Herc shot back as they dissolved into squabbling.

Alex smiled and finally felt like he could take a breath. He had his friends around him again and no matter what the world threw at him, he could take it. He was home.

A knock at the door shook him out of his musings and he threw a look over his shoulder as he walked over to the door. Before he opened it, he warned: “Be nice.”

Aaron was indeed standing there and Alex greeted him cheerily: “Aaron Burr, sir.”

“Alexander” Aaron greeted with a wince.

“Come on, don’t be like that. If I had known you would become more boring, I would have never written another public document to fuck with you.” Alex grinned.

“Don’t antagonize him, Alex.” Eliza called out.

“Yeah, we all know how that turned out last time.” John huffed.

The comments didn’t really help, because Aaron winced as he started to back away, clearly on the brink of running.

“Guys, please try to be civil.” it earned Alex some disbelieving snorts, “Look at him, he’s about to cry. Are you gonna make Aaron Bartow cry?”

“Oh, it’s Aaron Bartow now?” John huffed.

“Yes. Yes, it is.” Alex said, “Just like you’re John Lawson and I’m Alex Hambleton. We’re not the same people anymore and I forgave Aaron a long time ago. He deserves people who know and understand as much as the next person.”

“You forgive me?” Aaron voice sounded so small and fragile that all retorts that might have been, died before they were spoken.

“I do.” Alex told him, “I saw your face, you know? When you shot. You were bracing for a bullet and when it didn’t come you looked so heartbroken and surprised. Van Ness had to drag you away. I don’t forget easily. I know I’m abrasive and a loud mouth that has an opinion on everything, who makes rash decisions, so I don’t blame you for wanting to protect yourself.”

Aaron looked at him wordlessly, unsure of what to say.

Alex grinned: “I’m aware you have a stick up your ass, but are you going to stare at my handsome face the entire day or am I going to get a hug.”

“You’re an asshole.” Aaron told him as he clutched the other tightly.

“I’ve been told.” Alex replied, merely holding on just as strong.

It took a while before either let go, but Alex was planning to hide for today and standing in the hallway with his door open was not ideal, especially as time went on and more people got the news, so he pried Aaron off him and led him inside.

He turned back to properly close the door when it was slammed open by none other than Tom, or Thomas Jefferson, he wasn’t sure who he had in front of him.

“You.” he pointed at Alex, whose eyes grew wide as he held up his hands, probably Jefferson he thought, “You motherfucker.”

Jefferson slammed down his hand and seethed: “This, really? You and your fucking pamphlets have to- Ugh! It’s always fucking you with your big ego and thousands of words that don’t even make sense most of the time and-”

“Hey, dude, calm down.” Alex cut him off, “What got you so mad?”

“This triggered my memories.” Jefferson admitted with venom, “Not the history lessons, not my face in buildings, not my legacy fucking me over or even that stupid musical. But you and your constant need for attention.”

“Ah,” Alex is quite unsure about what to say and one look at the others confirmed that neither did they, so he weakly offered, “At least you remember?”

“Like you think that’s a good thing, I read your stupid pamphlet, Lord knows I did, and it sucks, asshole.” Jefferson snarled, “We both know that.”

“It gets better when you find people.” Alex said, gesturing to the others, who waved awkwardly.

“Maybe, but I don’t really have anybody, now do I?” Jefferson told him and Alex would’ve never thought he’d see the day where he sympathized with Jefferson, though in front of him was Tom as well, not just Jefferson anymore.

“I thought we were kind of friends?” he replied, “I like debating with you and we agree more this time and, look, I know people we knew.”

Jefferson looked at him as if he had three heads as he slowly said: “You, Alexander Hamilton, you- you want to be friends? With me? Did you hit your head? Like is there something wrong with you and are you missing your memories? You hate me.”

“No, I hate Thomas Jefferson and if I recall correctly, your name is Tom Jamesson.” Alex replied, “And if you look closely, you’ll see Aaron Bartow sitting there. Besides, I think I can handle more debating in my life.”

“Only you would keep someone in your life to fight with them.” Tom said with a faked annoyance, “Though my name is actually Thomas Jamesson, so get your fact straight.”

“Well, then, Thomas, welcome to my humble abode, now please shut the door behind you before nosy strangers come in.” Alex said when Thomas’ reply wasn’t a blunt no.

Thomas snorted: “You published your life story again and you’re worried about nosy strangers.”

“It’s about the principle of the thing, I wanna do it all official, maybe hold a press conference, get a dinner thrown in my honor, make a long speech that everyone is forced to listen to. It’ll be great.” he grinned.

“The fact that I believe you is disturbing.” Angelica piped up.

And so they roped Thomas into the fray that was their little Revolution crew as they talked about their life now and their life back then. They compared notes on what was different and what was the same.

Apparently the Schuyler sisters were now childhood best friends and Angelicas memories had triggered those of the others. Eliza remarked: “Peggy was so sad she couldn't come to slap you into next week, but she has her internship.”

“Not looking forward to that.” Alex winced, “And I thought she liked me?”

“She does, she just likes fighting more.” Angelica commented humorously, “Being able to have opinions and do stuff, has really gotten her out of her 18th century shell.”

“Good for her.” Alex nodded.

“That’s what I said!” John exclaimed excitedly.

They moved on to Lafayette, who told them it was same old French noble blood and being send off to America for better education and to explore the world. He pouted over not being as close to Washington anymore, but brightened when he told them about the tea they drank together every other Wednesday.

John didn’t say anything about his father, besides the fact that he was a Senator and still a dick, or other family for that matter, but he was ecstatic that he would be able to become a Doctor this time around and he loved his study dearly.

Thomas didn’t really say much either. He was still struggling with connecting his two identities and what that meant for him. When asked about James, he sadly said: “If I saw him, we didn’t recognize each other.”

“Hey, we’ll find him if he’s out there.” Alex comforted him, then joked, “He probably remembered and tried to stay as far away from here as possible to avoid seeing me again.”

It got a small huff of amusement out of Thomas.

Alex looked at Aaron to ask about him, when his phone rang. Nervously he picked up: “Hello, yes, this is Alex Hambleton speaking.”

“Ah, you’ve read it then.”

“I understand.”

“Within the month?” Alex asked surprised, “Then I get to keep my scholarship? Thank you so much, sir!”

He turned to the others who were waiting expectantly as he grinned: “Looks like I’m getting registered and my plan for world domination is still on track.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Herc yelled, getting cheers from the others.

Alex smiled in the midst of his friends with a future bright and obtainable. A story ready for him to write how he saw fit, unbound by mistakes of the past.

He might be an old story in a new place, but there was always room for a rewrite. They were already on the second draft anyway.