#charles dickens will never be the same

[quaint-ignorant]

me, a student in english literature, referencing the classic bestselling novel of Charles Dickens' "Oliver Twist" to my friends and one of them tells me "but you said you hadn't watched trolls 3"

[tybaltsjuliet]

here's the thing about charles dickens. [discussion of his antisemitism, misogyny, and racism ahead.]

his last, unfinished novel, the mystery of edwin drood, features helena and neville landless, heroic and sympathetic south asian (sri lankan, specifically) characters, and the racism they endure in an english town is relevant to the plot to the point where neville ends up falsely accused of murder. in the wake of the indian rebellion of 1857, dickens applauded the english brutality against "that oriental race," and called for genocide.

fagin is called "the jew" 274 times in the first half of oliver twist. an article in the jewish chronicle asked why "jews alone should be excluded from the 'sympathizing heart' of this great author and powerful friend of the oppressed." at first, dickens dismissed this, and claimed he was just being accurate about london's criminal makeup. but he was moved enough by eliza davis's letters to him on the matter that he halted the printing of the latter half of oliver twist so he could change the text and remove the antisemitic language therein.

dickens was an abolitionist who despised chattel slavery in the united states, and called emancipation a "moral duty." dickens didn't think black americans were intelligent enough to vote, and he wrote an entire character in bleak house who is a joke to be disliked and mocked because she'd rather oversee charity missions to help children in africa than be a proper mother and tend to her own family at home in england.

speaking of one's own family at home in england, dickens smeared his wife, catherine hogarth, publicly so he could justify separating from her and taking up with a younger woman. catherine hogarth was likely mentally ill, likely living with postpartum depression. she was also an author in her own right and loved her family dearly. her reputation never recovered in her lifetime from the claims he made about her. in dickens's novels, time and time again, from nicholas nickleby to david copperfield to our mutual friend to the mystery of edwin drood, men who menace and take advantage of vulnerable women are portrayed as the worst kind of villains, deserving of whatever grisly ends come to them.

charles dickens was both privately and publicly a raging asshole in many ways and the world would be worse off without him, because he wrote for bourgeois, comfortable victorians, the very people who so often failed to "think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys." in the same breath that he calls agnes fleming, who opens oliver twist as an unwed mother dying in a workhouse, "weak and erring," he dares to add that "i do believe that the shade of that poor girl often hovers about that solemn nook-ay, though it is a church." he calculated jo's death to the page in bleak house for maximum effect. but when he wrote of the orphaned crossing-sweeper, "dead, your majesty. dead, my lords and gentlemen. dead, right reverends and wrong reverends of every order. dead, men and women, born with heavenly compassion in your hearts. and dying thus around us every day," people listened.

i dedicated years of my life to reading him and studying him and thinking about him and writing about him and his novels. now, i turn to condemn him; now, i turn to justify him. i wish i had a time machine so i could shake his hand. i wish i had a time machine so i could publicly debate him. i wish i had a time machine so i could break his nose.

charles dickens gives me courage and hope. charles dickens makes me want to tear my goddamn hair out. he is everything i despise and everything i love about the victorian age in one; the term "a man of his time" ought to have been invented for him. the leaps and bounds the victorians made for progress in the public good are only matched in greatness by the extremity of their atrocities against their "fellow-passengers" on this earth. the way we think about nearly every modern social ill can be traced back to the 19th century; the way we think about nearly every modern idea of social justice can be traced back to the 19th century. every last one is writ large and small in dickens's novels. he and his age are the greatest contradictions in human history and that's why i can't shut up about them, ever, even when i am exhausted by them, even when i am inspired by them, even when it was two centuries ago and it shouldn't matter anymore, but it does. it always will.

[secular-jew]

Fish and Chips’ Surprising Jewish History. Jamie Oliver confirmed it!

You may be surprised to learn that fish and chips, though wildly popular in England for what seems like eternity, was actually a specialty of the Portuguese Sephardic Jews who fled the Inquisition in the 16th century and found refuge in the British Isles. Celebrity Chef Jamie Oliver referred to this recently in an article in the New York Times, adding that, “Dishes evolve, impacted by trade, war, famine and a hundred other forces.”

Among those “other forces” are dishes born of religious ritual. For observant Jews, fish is pareve, a neutral food in kosher terms, thus an easy way to avoid treyf (non-kosher food) and possibly include dairy in the same meal. It was especially important for Marranos, the so-called crypto-Jews, who pretended to be Christian during the Inquisition. They ate fish on Fridays, when meat was forbidden by the Church, and also saved some to eat cold the next day at lunch, to avoid cooking on Shabbat.

Frying was natural for Jewish home cooks — think of latkes and sufganyiot — and as the Jewish community began to flourish in England, it spurred a taste for its beloved fried, battered fish throughout the country. According to Claudia Roden’s The Book of Jewish Food, Thomas Jefferson tried some on a trip to London and noted that he ate “fish in the Jewish fashion” during his visit. Alexis Soyer, a French cook who became a celebrated chef in Victorian England included a recipe for “Fried Fish, Jewish Fashion” in the first edition of his cookbook A Shilling Cookery for the People (1845). Soyer’s recipe notes that the “Jewish manner” includes using oil rather than meat fat (presumably lard), which made the dish taste better, though also made it more expensive.

There’s some dispute about the where and when of “chips” (what we Americans call French fries and the French call pommes frites). Many historians say that deep-fried, cut-up potatoes were invented in Belgium and, in fact, substituted for the fish during hard times. The first time the word “chips” was used was in Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities in 1859: “husky chips of potato, fried with some reluctant drops of oil.”

The official pairing of fish and chips didn’t happen until a few years later, though. Although there are some who dispute it, most authorities say that it is thanks to a Jewish cook, this time a young Ashkenazi immigrant named Joseph Malin, who opened the first British chippy, AKA fish and chip shop, in London in 1863. The shop was so successful it remained in business until the 1970s.

Who could foresee that fearful Jewish immigrants hiding their true religion and practicing in secret would be responsible for creating one of the most iconic dishes in the U.K.? The down-home dish that Winston Churchill claimed help the British defeat the Nazis, the comfort food that George Orwell said helped keep the masses happy and “averted revolution.” The dish, by the way, that was among the only foods never rationed during wartime because the British government believed that preserving access to it was a way of keeping up morale. A dish that continues to be a mainstay of the British diet.

Think about that the next time you find yourself feasting on this centuries-old — Jewish? British? — recipe.

These days, some restaurants are putting a new spin on fish and chips. Almond crusted. Baked instead of fried. Quinoa coated. Sweet potato fries instead of regular. And those are all fine; as Oliver says, “Dishes evolve.” But plain old fish and chips endures and probably always will. Good recipes usually do.

H/T : @scartale-an-undertale-au

Naveed Anjum

[beggars-opera]

You hate classic lit because:

Your were forced to read it in high school, and no one likes to be forced to do anything in school

Your teacher failed to explain that important things aren't always objectively enjoyable

Your class was focused on picking the book apart at the expense of appreciating the story or, more importantly, the context of the book and why you should care

You think that the book has to be relevant and nonthreatening to you to be worth reading

I had an English teacher in high school tell me word for word that Charles Dickens was the filet mignon of literature, and that my class clearly only liked hot dogs. I had another teacher ask me what I thought the meaning of a poem was and then told me that my interpretation was objectively wrong.

But I've also seen other teachers explaining what made a book a classic, why people at the time loved it, what new ideas or writing styles it pioneered, or what historical events it inspired. And I've read, throughout my life, plenty of classics without the constraints of an educational setting, and thoroughly enjoyed them. Hell, I've taken Les Miserables to the beach.

There have also been books that I have read and not enjoyed! Sometimes they had themes that I hated, but as a historian I can put those themes in context and still learn from the work as a whole. Sometimes I just didn't like the story, but I can accept that my ideal plotline doesn't always mesh with that of an average person in 1788. I also know when books feel disjointed because they were originally serialized, or paid by the word, or written in a dialect and culture not my own. And now I'm an adult, and I can choose to finish them or put them down.

The point is I encourage you to revisit books you once had to read and hated, or books you never had to read but have avoided because they fall in the same category. As an adult you get to make your own choices and form your own opinions, and that freedom allows you to dive as deeply or shallowly into literature as you want. You may never like War and Peace, but you might also find that you enjoy more than you thought you would.

[stevenrogered]

“That was a memorable day to me, for it made great changes in me. But it is the same with any life. Imagine one selected day struck out of it, and think how different its course would have been. Pause, you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day.” - Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

[scotianostra]

On January 14th 1872 Edinburgh’s world famous dog, Greyfriars Bobby died.

For many visitors to Edinburgh, a must-see is the statue of Greyfriar's Bobby on George IV Bridge and, although it's officially frowned upon, rubbing Bobby's nose for luck. The true story of Greyfriar's Bobby is so enchanting that even Walt Disney decided to make a movie about him.

Greyfriars Bobby was a Skye Terrier who became famous in the 19th century for his unwavering loyalty to his owner. In 1850 John Gray, his wife, Jess and their son John arrived in Edinburgh. John was a gardener but could not find employment in his new hometown, so he worked as a night watchman for the Edinburgh Police Force.

It was a lonely job, so to keep him company, he bought a wee Skye Terrier, who he called Bobby. Soon John and Bobby became inseparable through the long winter nights they maintained a watch over their charges.

Edinburgh's damp and murky weather eventually took its toll on John, who was diagnosed with tuberculosis. Despite treatment from the Police Surgeon, John died on 15th February 1858 and was buried in Greyfriar's Kirkyard.

Bobby, who had never been apart from John, refused to leave the cemetery and stayed by his owner's grave. Despite the efforts of the graveyard staff to evict Bobby, he always returned and eventually, they gave up and provided little Bobby with shelter beside John's Grave.

Word of Bobby's loyalty quickly spread, and he became a local sensation. It is said that crowds would gather outside the graveyard at one o'clock each day. When Edinburgh's famous one o'clock gun was fired, Bobby would leave the grave and join local joiner William Dow for a walk to a local coffee shop.

John and Bobby visited Traill’s Temperance Coffee House on their rounds, and Bobby was always given something to eat by the owner John  Traill. This tradition continued after John's passing, thanks to the generosity of the owner.

A new by-law was passed by the Edinburgh Council in 1867, making it mandatory that all dogs had a licence and a collar. The Lord Provost of Edinburgh, Sir William Chalmers, undertook to pay for Bobby's licence, and he received a collar with the inscription "Greyfriar's Bobby from the Lord Provost 1867 Licensed".

If you visit the Museum of Edinburgh on the Royal Mile, you can see Bobby's collar and drinking bowl. as seen in the pics, that I took in 2016/.

Bobby stayed by John's grave for 14 years until he passed in 1872. He was buried in the same cemetery, just a few feet away from his beloved owner.

Greyfriars Bobby's story is one of the most enduring tales of loyalty and devotion. It serves as a reminder of the special bond between humans and animals.

In 1981 a new headstone at Bobby's Grave was unveiled by the Duke of Gloucester. The inscription reads, "Greyfriars Bobby – Died 14 January 1872 – Aged 16 years – Let his loyalty and devotion be a lesson to us all".

The legend of Bobby touched the heart of Baroness Angelia Georgina Burdett-Coutts. She was the daughter of the banker Thomas Coutts (of Coutts Bank fame) and inherited £1.8 million on her grandfather's death, making her one of the wealthiest women in England.

Burdett-Coutts spent most of her wealth on philanthropic causes. She co-founded the Urania Cottage for "fallen young women" with Charles Dickens and became a social housing pioneer.

The Baroness got permission from Edinburgh Council to erect a statue of Bobby at the junction of Candlemakers Row and George IV Bridge, just outside Greyfriars Kirkyard. The artist William Brodie was commissioned to create the statue in 1872.

Since its unveiling, the statue of Bobby has become an important Edinburgh landmark.

[royalsunshinehotel]

hi hi hi hi!!!! love your work! love your fics!!!!!! amazing and wonderful and lovely and wow💗💗 is it too much to request a gawain imagine??? he's had a long day and is annoyed at everything but he comes home to his wife and melts into her because she makes everything better. slow, loving smut in the end?? love your copperfield smut too⭐️ david and gawain are dreamy asfffffff

Crawl Home (David Copperfield x wife!reader, 18+)

thirty six days until monkey man!!

A/N: The first half of this fic is based on lore I've heard about Charles Dickens being regarded as "the man who invented Christmas." Could be filthier, but I digress.

It was the dead of winter, about to be Christmas in London, and it was supposed to be a good, cheerful time of year, but a calm holiday never seemed to be what laid in store for David Copperfield. It was bordering on ridiculous. The whole day, something hot, sharp, and painful had been stabbing him behind the eyes, and he couldn't get it to stop.

He'd been out of the house since the sun rose that morning, doing everything he could to get it together for the holiday. The two of you were actually going to leave the city, back to his Aunt's home, but the energy in the air told him that the trip was all but doomed.

You heard him coming back, stuck in his head, chatting to himself, more annoyed than he usually would have been.

He struggled with the key, and you don't even look up from your book. Usually when he's this heated, it's best to let him wear himself out.

"I just don't understand the need for everyone to go to the shops at once!!" He blew through the front door, slamming it behind him, stomping his boots clean of snow.

"Really? why would they do that?" You asked, knowing your words really weren't of consequence at that moment.

"It's like there was an announcement that everyone steps out at 11am, I could barely get out the front door of the publishers! Ridiculous! Any shopping? Why do we have to get people gifts!"

"David, it's Christmas, give the people a break." You tried, closing your book and putting it to the side.

"They would do the same! People don't want to show a shred of mercy for the less fortunate!" His hands were tight at his sides, his feelings simmering, almost at a boil.

"What do you mean?" You questioned, your husband ran a hand over his face, his curly hair fluffing up as he pulled off his hat.

"I nearly brought home two children that were 'available to work' on the corner near Darby St. Some rich toff was chatting to the Dad, god knows where they'll end up!" David and his big heart.

A familiar ache pulsed through you, "I'm so sorry lovey."

He just roamed the streets of London, seeing and feeling everything!

"I scared their father, I'm sure I can find them tomorrow though." You knew your husband. Tenacious was a word for it, but you should really start preparing to have two more on your Christmas vacation. Later, you thought.

"I worry for you, and your big heart."

"You won't be saying so when we've got two children to feed for Christmas." When, he said, he was thinking about it too.

"Hm, since we're adopting street urchins now, I should take advantage of our privacy." It was an inappropriate thing to say, but you knew if you didn't fuck him into a more temperate mood, there's no way the children would agree to come with him, even if he did find them again. He would, you knew he would but still.

"You are sitting in my lap." You had your chest in his face as well, however you gave him another moment to notice that.

"Back down to earth, are we?" You teased lightly, David's hands cold against your skin.

"...Have you been in your nightgown this whole conversation...?" You shivered as he pushed the gown off one shoulder.

"Yes. I think, since it's the holiday, you might take time off." Your words seemed muffled, heat pooling in your belly as David put his mouth to work on your breast, cold hands kneading the flesh casually, because he'd been doing it for years.

"You've been working so hard on your serials, I miss you." You all but moaned as David's freezing fingers teased your hardened peaks,

"How much?" He flashed a smile up at you, as you adjusted your legs.

"You should feel!" You prompted, and a cold hand wandered down to your dampening heat. You moaned loudly at the contrast of temperature, pitiful and absolutely perfect.

David whined, in the way you like.

Now normally, the two of you would tease more, enjoy each other with hands and mouths. Its a favorite past time for you like to hold his member in your hands and watch it twitch and grow...another day perhaps.

For now, you're not rushing, but you're not going to wait. You warm your hand a moment before pulling David free of his trousers. He sat perfectly still, like a good boy. He deserved a treat after the day he had.

Helping you, he took a large hand and bunched your nightdress to your hips, and he supported you, other hand on your ass as you mounted him.

He was simply so lucky to have you.

With a wet, filthy sound, you took your husband in deep. It was supposed to be a treat for him, and here you were, barely a thought in your pretty little head.

It was his fault, his cock was too lovely!

He paused, to let you catch your breath, but with a squeeze to your rear, you begin to move, to ride.

"You always feel so good inside me," your breathy little whine prompted a nip to your collarbone. The soft velvet of the chair only heightened how your hair stood on end.

You'd wanted to take control, you'd wanted to come after him like an avenging fertility goddess, taking what you want.

And yet, like most things, you were doing it together.

"I'll always crawl home to you." He murmured, trying everything he could to stay calm. Not too calm, but calm enough.

"You'd better keep your big heart wide, I know sometimes it hurts." You crooned into his ear as he tightened his grip on you, just as greedy as he needed to be.

"It's all worth it for this comfort I receive from you, dear wife." He groaned, humming against your skin. You smirked, bringing your hot breath up to his ears.

Cold. Not for long!

You tugged his earlobes between your teeth, pulling ever so gently, as David melted under you.

A few more rolls of your hips, and you clench down around him, muscles keeping him hostage in you as you milk him for all he's worth. You get to keep him safe, when he's inside you like this.

"What was that, worrying about gifts for the family?" You grabbed his chin, pointing his face towards you.

He smirked, before giving you a sweet, chaste peck, "Once again dearest, you are all that I need."

[wellgoslowly]

old quotes about love that i think lockwood associates with lucy because im obsessed with these fuckers

“and she tortures me, tortures me with her love. the past was nothing! in the past it was only those infernal curves of hers that tortured me, but now i’ve taken all her soul and through her i’ve become a man myself.” - fyodor dostoevsky

“i can’t think of any greater happiness than to be with you all the time, without interruption, endlessly, even though i feel that here in this world there’s no undisturbed place for our love, neither in the village nor anywhere else; and i dream of a grave, deep and narrow, where we could clasp each other in our arms as with clamps, and i would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more.” - kafka

“i love thee, i love thee with a love that shall not die. till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old.” - william shakespeare

“how do i love thee? let me count the ways.” - elizabeth barrett browning

“i love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. i love you simply, without problems or pride: i love you in this way because i do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no i or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when i fall asleep your eyes close.” - pablo neruda

“if i had a flower for every time i thought of you… i could walk through my garden forever.” - alfred tennyson

“when we love, we always strive to become better than we are. when we strive to become better than we are, everything around us becomes better too.” - paulo coelho

“in vain i have struggled. it will not do. my feelings will not be repressed. you must allow me to tell you how ardently i admire and love you.” -jane austen

“he’s more myself than i am. whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” - emily brontë

“every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. those who wish to sing always find a song. at the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.” - plato

“doubt thou the stars are fire; doubt that the sun doth move; doubt truth to be a liar; but never doubt i love.” -william shakespeare

“i cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which had laid the foundation. it is too long ago. i was in the middle before i knew that i had begun.” -jane austen

“i loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.” -charles dickens

“you are always new. the last of your kisses was ever the sweetest; the last smile the brightest; the last movement the gracefullest. when you pass’d my window home yesterday, i was fill’d with as much admiration as if i had then seen you for the first time… even if you did not love me i could not help an entire devotion to you.” -john keats

[hamliet]

hello hamliet, love your meta analysis and they always show me a different perspective. Would love to know your opinion on seperating the art from the artist, if it is possible and if so how to go about it?

A few principles:

Not everyone will reach the same conclusion about whether they are able to separate the artist and art, and that's okay. I can't listen to Michael Jackson. I know people who can. I do not judge them.

That said I guarantee you everyone does this separation for something, so don't throw stones.

Being able to separate it doesn't mean someone endorses an issue. I don't think people who listen to MJ are CSA apologists. Learn to separate what art resonates with people from their own personal morals.

Don't deny what the creator has done. I can't deny that JK Rowling is a toxic transphobe who seems dead set on destroying trans' peoples lives and I want her stopped. Or that Charles Dickens tried to have his wife locked up in an insane asylum to cover up his affair.

Don't fight against justice for the creator. Sorry, JK, but I hope Imane Khelif who is not even trans ends up taking you to the cleaners in court. I want her harmful rhetoric to be stopped. It'd be nice if she changed her mind and repented . Take your own advice JK about how remorse is the only way to put a torn soul back together, but it hurts terribly. But I'm not holding my breath and in the meantime transphobia needs to be stopped.

Competing needs are a thing. Sorry, I have never read a series that addresses losing a parent in the same way Harry Potter does. I have read other series' about this. I've never read one that resonates the same way. I love the series but I do acknowledge the author is actively harming people and make efforts to combat transphobia in my own life.

Be sensitive to the fact that people may feel differently. I'm not going to recommend Harry Potter to someone who is transgender or tell someone they absolutely should read it and must separate author from art. They don't have to. There are some things I can't separate.

Don't deny privilege playing a role in what you can separate and what you can't. It does, because we all have different lives and different triggers, and it's good to check privilege. But life is also really short. Live in the tension. Don't try to ignore it or deny it away.

Have those discussions that are uncomfortable.

No ethical consumption exists under capitalism. I've been mostly boycotting Nestle for... thirteen years now? But I don't think everyone who consumes Nestle is intending to say "oh well" to child slaves in Africa. These children matter just as much as trans children, don't they?

Learn everything about something and something about everything, to quote a professor I once had. Care about everything. Focus all your efforts on one or two causes. You can't save the world but you can help save something.

Acknowledge the reality that humans are contradictory. I think HP as a story has the opposite thematic message to a lot of her current rhetoric. Which isn’t to say it’s perfect.

Don’t fall prey to the stupidity of suddenly denying that art is good bc the author or singer is evil. Every time I see ppl trot out the Ursula Leguin quote on HP I lose brain cells because it is empathically clear that people taking that as some kind of prescient insight have never understood Leguin’s books nor HP nor the complexity and contradictoriness of humanity.

Which also isn’t to say it’s wrong to notice problematic elements in said works that may relate to the issue or may be unrelated. Do critique.

[cheeseplants]

Fic: The Apple Doesn't Fall Far Chap 2 & 3

I posted Chap 2 on Wed, but in case you missed it - here is 2 & 3.

Crowley is off to make some trouble in tge village of Whickber, and Aziraphale does not know what to do when a tall dark attractive man marches into his bookshop. Not that he is looking at him like that.

Read Chap 2

Read Chap 3

Start here

Excerpt from Chap 3

He couldn’t help his eyes flicking from one piece to the next, wondering what kind of person collects all this until his eyes landed on a blonde man hidden behind an ancient Globe that probably still showed several countries that no longer existed.

The man was reading, and didn’t even flinch when Crowley walked towards the counter at the front of the shop. He was wearing a faded cardigan, a tartan bowtie, and his hair was a shock of white blonde that beamed brightly against the dark mahogany of the bookshelves. He seemed utterly still, with a pair of hornrimmed glasses on his head, absorbed thoroughly in a book, with a pile of others next to him. 

Aziraphale’s aesthetic appeared to have not changed in the last 200 years, despite the fact he was clearly around the same age as Crowley. One of those eccentric types who pretends they are from another age. He walked up to the till, and jammed his finger on a bell on the counter.

Aziraphale didn’t budge, barely looking up from his book. Crowley jammed it harder, and peered around the corner to see if there was any movement, still nothing.

Finally, he slammed his hand down with a piercing ring and yelled “Oi, you.” 

Aziraphale startled, peering up to meet Crowley’s gaze, he sighed, taking his time to put in a bookmark and placing the book he was reading carefully on a side table next to him. He stood up, and patted the tops of his cream-coloured slacks, before walking towards the counter. 

Crowley saw him properly now, and had to admit, there was something rather charming about him. The way his light blonde curls flickered under the warm lights of the bookshop, his back romrod straight and his hands clapsed in front of his soft stomach. Aziraphale was a long way from the type of people Crowley hung around with in London, and an even longer way from his family that were scattered around these parts. 

It was as if he had fallen directly out of a Charles Dickens novel, and looking around Crowley thought that he couldn’t imagine him looking any different in this setting. In fact, Crowley started to wonder how out of place he looked here in his sleek black jeans and spiked red hair. His mind went back to his cousin Beez, who he could never imagine stepping foot into a place like this.

Yet, he couldn’t help but feel this bookshop gave off a similar sense of those teenage memories he had of the cottage. Rustic, old, comforting, like being wrapped in a large blanket and being handed a cup of cocoa. 

“Yes?” Aziraphale stood in front of him, his shoulders stiff. 

“If it isn't Aziraphale,” Crowley said, ignoring the rumble that staring directly into Aziraphale’s sharp blue or was it green eyes seem to cause, probably those six shots of expresso.

“And you are?” Aziraphale’s eyes darted towards the door.

“Crowley, ‘member? I phoned you about the cottage.”

“Oh, Mr. Crowley, yes,” Aziraphale said slowly, shifting his feet slightly, as if he was desperate to bolt at any moment.

“Just Crowley.” He leaned forward on the counter and Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “Look. I guess you know why I’m here.”

Aziraphale stared at him. “I am afraid I have absolutely no idea.”

“I was thinking that you might know something about these plans to knock down my aunt’s… my cottage.” 

“What makes you think that?” Aziraphale’s body tensed, and his knuckles whitened, dents forming in the curve of where he fingers dug into the skin of his hands. 

“You’re on the Council, aren’t you? Surely it is part of your civic duty to share what you know with interested residents?”

“Resident? You moved here?”

“Well, it was your idea.” Crowley smirked. 

“It was nothing of the sort,” Aziraphale’s voice raised, and then he lowered it again. “I do hope you are not going to involve me in any of your ideas, whatever they are.”

“Ideas? Who said anything about ideas? I am merely a resident enjoying living in a run-down cottage, which so happens to be in the way of some awful office complex that personally I don’t think you are a fan of.”

The silence between them was deafening.

“I…” Aziraphale shifted again, “What makes you say that?”

“Call it a hunch,” Crowley said. He was beginning to enjoy watching this man squirm on his feet, it was frankly adorable. He blinked and watched Aziraphale’s bright blue-green eyes looking up at him. “Ngk. Erm. So come on? What the Hell is going on?”

“It’s an office building project. We’re encouraging new businesses to the area.”  Aziraphale’s voice was flat.

“You sound so thrilled.”

“I told you, I don’t have to agree with the plans to go forward with them.”

“I see.”

“I am not helping you.”

“Fine, I’ll find another way.”

“Fine.” 

“Nice bookshop by the way.”

“Oh… thank you.”

Thanks as always to @kneelbeforeyourdogbabylon & @happynachohologram for the beta!

@goodomensafterdark

[adoroborosgoth]

Crowley dying in s3

I wasn't sure how to start this meta. I've had this theory with possible (big possible) evidence sitting around for ages and I just didn't know what to do with the information.

After I'd already had this information, I only seen a hand full of others talk about it, but none have touched on it in the same way as the things I've found in my research.

So let's get on with it. For reference I'm going to tag @nightingalecottage and their lovely post here. I really recommend reading it. This theory only saw the light of day because of their post and I told them I would tag them with my meta since it lends a lot to it. And I promised myself that I would finish this for them.

Now for the meat and potatoes. I'll break it all down about how I found this information and how it might lend some theory about possible plot to s3.

This got really long so I put a cut.

-Silly narrator voice-

The facts were these.

To start I was doing research for a fic I'm working on and the details don't matter much but I'd planned to make my 'human' crowley a barrister. I was googling famous barristers for inspiration.

This lead me to wikipedia naturally as you do. And as I was looking over the list I saw this.

After seeing this name on the list of barristers in popular culture I had a mini freakout. Mainly because two things NG is a huge fan of Charles Dickens and A Tale of Two Cities is on the bookclub reading list. And I kept thinking why did this seem familiar and this is why.

A Tale of Two Cities is on the list of books that they recommend we read or were found in s2. So after I stopped freaking out I immediately went to the wiki page for this character. I wasn't too familiar with this book so I wanted to know more. As I was now super invested and intrigued. And found this.

Sydney Carton

I couldn't help be blown away by the similarities here between Sydney Carton and a certain depressed snake demon from s2. Morosely asking Shax on a bench in the first episode "What's the point of it all?"

For some context, in the novel Sydney Carton and his later best friend Charles Darnay share a striking semblance and are easily mistaken for each other. This is how Sydney is then able to make the switch with Darnay in the end saving his life.

This brings to mind of the lore that we know that Crowley and Aziraphale were once long ago one character and split into two. Also with the ideal casting choice that Terry Pratchett wanted one actor to play both roles. That would have been really interesting and funny. Also this plays into our favorite duo MS and DT having not worked together before because they were up for the same roles.

Let's move on to

Charles Darnay

Darnay resents his uncle's views much how Aziraphale resents certain aspects of heaven, but is never able to act on very much.

The note about Darnay being tutor of French made me chuckle considering what we know about Aziraphale being terrible at French. With that whole scene centered around it in s2.

Ok so we all are well versed and familiar with the famous Bastille scene. We all know the one and its clear the inspiration here for it comes from A Tale of Two Cities possibly.

Side note Darnay and Carton are both in love with Lucie here, but I posit that in the case of Good omens, Aziraphale is possibly both Darnay and Lucie. Making him the best friend and love intrest.

Lucie Manette

And finally why does any of this matter and what does this have to do with Crowley maybe dying in s3 you ask?

The one important detail in all of this is that at the end of the novel Carton heroically sacrificed himself to save his best friend and for the women he loves. He feels it gave him purpose and felt as if his life finally had meaning.

Two things here. The scene in which Carton swaps places with Darnay being able to pass as him well enough to save his life. Is very reminiscent of our Body Swap from s1. As well as the idea that in s3 this could also happen, but in the sense that Crowley does it to save Aziraphale's life. I clearly have no idea how s3 will play out.

Now I'm not saying that s3 will be as dramatic as all of this. It is still a comedy at its core. As others have touched on in meta and in nightingalecottage's post there are many little hints that point to the similarities and the idea that Crowley maybe doomed by the narrative. In a way, I personally don't think that Crowley's hypothetical death will be permanent. I just do not see that happening at all. A temporary death I could definitely see and it could also serve to show how much Crowley truly means to Aziraphale. The shock of it would maybe be similar to how Crowley thought he lost Aziraphale in s1 and could be a parallel.

In the end this is all speculation and theory. Either way the idea of it all makes me vibrate and I needed to finally share this with someone else. They wouldn't have recommended this book if there wasn't some sort of meaning here right? And its entirely possible I'm looking in the wrong direction.

Overall there are many parallels and similarities here between A Tale of Two Cities and certain parts of Good Omens, I'm sure I may have missed some and I just wanted to end this now before it gets too long. If you made it this far and have any other theories or something you want to add on to this please feel free to tag me. I release this into the void.

[grvstnaya-svka]

Matilda (‘96) Headcannons

*picking up where the movie left off : Miss Honey becomes principal of Crunchem Hall, they’ve moved into Magnus Honey’s old house - Miss Honey’s childhood home. Matilda’s adoption is finalized.*

Matilda asks if she can change her last name. Miss Honey was the mother that she always wanted. And she never particularly enjoyed being a Wormwood anyway. She had no use for that name. From now on, she shall be called Matilda Honey.

Miss Honey & Matilda have adopted the black cat (the one that trunchbull kicked). His name is Charles. Yes, after Charles Dickens. He is happy and healthy. He gets a gentle pat and kiss on the head from Matilda whenever she leaves the house. And Miss Honey is his favorite cuddle partner.

Miss Honey and Matilda walk to and from school together everyday. It’s their favorite part of the day. They get to debrief each other and sometimes they play games. Hopscotch or sometimes even racing. And, of course, Miss Honey always enjoys Matilda’s fun facts.

Nightly chocolates after supper! Miss Honey tells Matilda they don’t have to, but Matilda insists. Miss Honey is ecstatic that Matilda wants to continue the tradition. Obviously, she always gives Matilda the bigger half.

Picnics and gardening! (Obviously.) Miss honey teaches Matilda to garden. They use the herbs and vegetables for tea and cooking, which they also enjoy together.

Breakfast and tea each morning before school. Usually pancakes, as miss honey quickly learns that it’s Matilda’s favorite. Sometimes Jen picks some blueberries and strawberries to go with it. Matilda loves it!

Hella play dates and sleepovers with her best friends, Lavender and Amanda! On nights that Matilda isn’t home, Jennifer curls up on the couch; a book in one hand, petting Charles with the other. His purring is the most soothing sound.

Lissy Doll and Matilda’s rag doll sit on the shelf, right next to each other. Overtime, they develop a system to let each other know where they’ll be using the dolls. But usually they sit next to each other. Sometimes when one of them is home, missing the other, they’ll grab the others’ respective doll, and hold them for comfort.

Matilda slowly starts calling Miss Honey ‘Mom/mum’ and Jennifer nearly tears up the first couple times it happens. Jennifer asks Matilda if she may call her ‘Tilly’ and Matilda says yes. She also begins to introduce her to people as her daughter. Her brilliant, most wonderful daughter.

Weekends are spent at the library. Mrs Phelps is always happy to see little Matilda. Then she sees Miss Honey, and says, “it’s been a long time, eh Miss Jennifer?” “Yes it has, Mrs. Phelps. It’s good to see you!”

Matilda crafts the most lovely, heartfelt Mother’s Day cards for Miss Honey every May. Jenny treasures them deeply. The first one was a surprise. She didn’t imagine Matilda would’ve actually seen her as her mom. A mother figure, sure. But she’d only just adopted the child.

In the same respect, while filing Matilda’s papers, she learns little Tilly’s birthday and organizes a surprise party for her. She invites all of Matilda’s friends from school, and some neighbors. (Even Mrs. Phelps sends in a card and a small book related gift.) Matilda finally gets a proper birthday! She gives Miss Honey the biggest hug when she arrives at the party and realizes what Jennifer’s put on for her. “Thank you! Nobody’s ever done this for me before. It’s wonderful! Thank you, thank you so much! I love it!”

Matilda’s drawings are proudly displayed up on the fridge. Her favorite is King Magnus & the Bumblebee. As well as the one of her and Matilda, or “Me & mum” as Matilda calls it.

Jennifer likes to give Matilda her old T-shirts. Matilda loves wearing them. They always smell so lovely. It’s like getting an endless hug from Miss Honey. It’s the best feeling in the whole world.

Matilda seldom uses her powers now. When she does, it’s usually to make Miss Honey smile.

Matilda does her schoolwork at the kitchen table while Jennifer does her own work across the table. They take tea breaks often.

Matilda visits Miss Honey in her new office between classes. She has a drawer full of all Matilda’s favorite snacks. Sometimes Lavender and Amanda come to visit too and are always greeted with a hug. “How are my girls doing today ?” She asks. The principal’s office is a happy place. And of course, Miss Honey always greets her students at the front doors each morning.

The first thing Miss Honey does the next day following the forceful impeachment of the Trunch, is bring Death to the Chokey! With the help from a handful of her colleagues and the maintenance man, the pipe is repaired and is as good as new, the rotten smell is gone, and they dispose of the rusty nail riddled door. They make repairs to the rest of the school as well. Miss honey brings all the color and joy that’s supposed to come with learning and Crunchem Hall becomes a proper children’s school.

Whenever she gets the chance, Miss Honey reminds Matilda how grateful she is to have a daughter who is so bright and kind and beautiful. Matilda makes sure Miss Honey knows how grateful she is to have such an amazing, kind, beautiful mother.

One time, when Matilda gets in trouble at school, Jennifer learns that she’d been trying to tell her teacher about a bully in her class. He was a new student and thought it’d be wise to pick on Bruce, Lavender and herself. Matilda had decided she’s had enough. When he goes to hit Lavender after she blocks him from grabbing her glasses, Matilda uses her powers on instinct - & the next thing anyone knows, he’s somehow punched himself in the face instead. But the teacher didn’t quite see what happened. Miss Honey later tells Matilda, “I know you were trying to do the right thing, sweetheart, but I can’t have you hurting your classmates with your powers. Promise you won’t do it again?” “Yes ma’am.”

One morning, while reading the newspaper, Matilda sees that Trunchbull had been found and arrested and charged with Murder of the first Degree, child abuse and endangerment, along with a few other serious offenses. She immediately runs to show Jennifer, who lets out a sigh of disbelief and then relief. Finally, justice for her father. And her students. She gives Matilda a massive hug.

Miss Jennifer Honey is awarded Best Principal, of one of the top schools in the state. And rightfully so.

Neither of them have been so happy and so proud. Never did Matilda think this was what it would feel like when Miss Honey told her things were going to be different. All was well and right. Everything was perfect. Matilda had never felt so loved in her life. Miss Honey hadn’t felt so loved in a very long time.

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

"Ask me anything" huh? Can I ask you to rant about stuff you love about Doctor Who for a handful of paragraphs, with the additional requirement that you cannot use correct grammar NOR can your statements be fully coherent?

Doctor Who is like 50% fun nonsense and I think commentaries on it should reflect that. No elaborate and precise statements, just pure joy unhindered by foolish concepts such as "making perfect sense".

I was waiting until I was close to going to bed to answer this because this really needs my half-asleep brain to answer properly. (Or improperly, in this case.) Now, onto as grammatically improperly as I can make this (hopefully I pulled this off. like to think I did!):

you know what i love about doctor who? i love that this show covers every single genre in the universe. that it is horror and comedy and historical fiction and sci fi and alternate history and dystopian and myths and steampunk and biopunk and murder mystery and western and fairytale because genre doesn't apply, because the doctor is a mad man in a box telling the story, except that they're not, the doctor's not the one telling the story, because this is really a story about the companions of the doctor, the people who are reflections of them, the people who become the doctor, the people who were doctors all along, the people who were kind and brave and traumatized and curious and above all, wanted to see the stars, because this is a story about the stars, about the grand expanse of space and time, about everything that ever was and ever will be, but the thing is, the mechanics of the show and how seasons are shot and that no actor can ever stay young forever, because the show is made with real people, everyone has to move on, and that's the beauty of it, isn't it? that people have to move on.

writers and actors always have to move on but with doctor who, because some genius (affectionate) in the 60s decided that regeneration would get to be a mechanic in the show we get to have an eternal canon, we get to have renewal, we get to have companions reflect back on the doctor in an infinite number of batshit insane and unhinged ways, we get to see hope and grief and a bottomless fall and an infinite rise because the doctor cannot die even though everyone around them can BUT ALSO because this show is about travelling, about running, about having the entirety of everything that has ever existed or will exist or can't exist or might exist at our fingertips.

as a result you can have episodes like midnight and partners in crime in the same season and no one will bat an eye, you can have the farting calcium invasion-of-the-body-snatchers be the monsters that propel two of the best character pieces i've ever seen in my entire life, you can have capitalism critiques involving fish poop under the thames, you can have them visit the greatest people that will ever live and the worst, you can have them inspire artists and scientists before they die and that's just as important as the aliens or saving the world, you see, because at the end of the day doctor who is about love, it's about the small moments as well as the big saves, it's about wilfred staring at the stars and amy demanding her imaginary friend show up to her wedding and harriet jones worrying about her mother and about danny admiring the fact that a student said please and about ryan and graham learning to ride a bike together and about jackie being the last person that mickey said goodbye to in journey's end, it's about love and character development and charles dickens and vincent van gogh getting to smile and laugh before they die, it's about the love, you see?

doctor who is about running as far and as fast as you can because even though you're more afraid than anyone who has ever existed you have to see them all, you have to love them all, because you have so much love you can't contain it in one heart, that's why you have two hearts, because you love so much, too much, and you will never find peace, you will never find an ending, but right here, right now, you can have this. and that will never be enough, it can't be enough, but it still matters.

because the love was there.

[docholligay]

What was your favorite thing you did in the UK/Germany?

That's such a hard thing for me to say on these sorts of trips, because there are so many things that go into "favorite." Apologies that this won’t be very poetically written, I’m sitll musing on my thoughts about it. 

The event I loved the most: Dickens Christmas Feast

We all know I love Charles Dickens, and even more so, we all know I love A Christmas Carol. I have seen so many versions of it, I will continue to watch versions of it, it is the best thing about Christmas, I think. So, on the one hand, very low bar to entry foe me.

On the other hand, I cannot recommend it enough to people. I would see anything this theater company did. They did such a wonderful job of building tone as you walked to where the theater was, you get this sense that you’ve about to hear something no one has ever heard before, even though this is probably one of the best known stories in the Western world. They even had a map of London from the late 1800s. I genuinely told people to just go past us in line (We had Royal Circle tickets--everything else had been sold out--so it didn’t matter if we were first or last) because they had a magnifying glass to look at the city map. It was so interesting to me to see the ways its different, but also the way its the same. What parts of the city cropped up, where were the nice areas, all of that. 

I loved dressing up. I love dressing up anyhow, but it was so much fun to do it for a Victorian themed event, and people reacted so positively to the handful of us who dressed up. There was one gal who stood by us in line, turned to her mom, and said, “I told you people would dress up! We could have dressed up! I love your costumes.” and then when we thanked her and said we loved to take an opportunity, she said, “Did you bring all that from America?” and upon confirmation, she turned to her mom again and said, “They brought it from America!” I loved her, I hope next time she dresses up. 

The food was shockingly good. I don’t put a lot of faith in dinner theater, foodwise, but the duck was well cooked, I love the potted cheese, and the cocktails were flat out incredible. I had smoking bishop, which I liked so much I think I’m going to try and make it at home this winter. Also, in the Royal Circle the service was incredible. Our gal Lily was so very attentive and wonderful, and she let us know that she couldn’t come out during the three acts, but in the meal breaks, she would. I let her know I was going to want to put a cocktail order in about ten minutes before each act began, and she was SO on it, like CLOCKWORK, asking me what I’d like for the next act and having hit the table RIGHT before the lights dimmed again. She was amazing. 

And the play. Again, I love A Christmas Carol and I acknowledge that fully, but I never imagined that one of my favorite reworkings of it would be a one man show that is represented as Charles Dickens acting it all out of you in his deeply involved, hyperactive, scattered way. I ADORED IT. I cannot express to you how well the guy did, and how much, in moments, it really felt to me like the feeling of being a writer--especially in the earlier parts of the play--with him saying a line “wrong” and then going, “No, I don’t like that” taking up the exact same position, and redoing it. It was very much the feeling of me pacing around the office in the old days writing something. At the end of the second act, when they had this huge clap of thunder roll, lights flashing, the actor as Scrooge in this moment crying out in fear over the approach of the third ghost, and then the whole room goes pitch black and silent. It’s SO tense. The lights come up, he smiles and goes, “Pretty good, right?” ANd it just captured, for me, that feeling of knowing you’ver written something that’s going to get to your reader, and it is this MOMENT in the writing, but you’re sitting there grinning like an idiot over your desk, chuckling. 

The only other players in the work, actually, were the musicians, who were live, and walked around playing the violin and little drums and other instruments, it was such an excellent way to really loop in the music aspect and give this so much more of a live feel. 

The whole thing is done as a theater in the round style, and there really isn’t a bad seat in the house. I was in the royal circle, but mostly what we had was more attentive service and much more comfortable seating (They were these sumptuous plush banquettes. So nice. Everyone else was on a regular chair) because the seating was so good for the play itself. And because of how it was done, it had to have sparse staging, but what they did have was wonderful. In the center stage, especially, they had a doorframe that popped up, and when they lowered it, they couldn’t do it without a light slam, so they worked it into the play SO WELL, at one point one of the musicians was holding it for the perfect dramatic moment to hear that slam, and it was such a clever way to work in something that could have been annoying into being absolutely perfect. 

It was so cleverly done, I would go see it again despite the cost of it, absolutely, if I were in London at the time. 

Thing I think everyone should go see in London: Westminster Abbey. 

A lot of the things I recommend are ‘use cases’ because there’s very little int his world that is uniformly bad or uniformly good, there are just good and bad use cases. I think the London Eye would be a fucking horrfying waste of time and money, but if I were bringing beeb, she might love it, as she loves to be up high. When i went with my wife one of my favorite days was when i took the train out to the shitty OW office and walked back to Mile End at the route I think Lena would take, and basically just bopped around the East End.  Many people would find that boring or too much walking. I thought the British Museum was an annoying waste of my life. Many of you are audibly gasping at that statement. Use cases. 

ANYHOW, Westminster Abbey is one of the only things I can think of in London that everyone she go see. I am not a big historic church person, so please trust me when I say its a very beautiful church, but it’s much more than that. I’m not sure if I just wrote this in my diary or said it here, but it feels like the collective hopes of a nation, and what it makes itself to be. What do we hold dear? What do we call ours? This is even more striking with seeing the scientists, and poets’ corner, the RAF chapel. It’s about what the UK thinks of itself as, what it hopes it is, as much as it is anything else, and I think you get a fantastic sense of that HOPE going through there. There’s a reason Oliver Crowmwell was there, and then wasn’t. Its striking for me in a way churches rarely are. I love that aspect of it, my wife loved the straight history aspects of it, the craftsmanship of the building itself and the graves are absolutely worth study, if you’re a royals person, that’s where the coronation is, if you just want to hit the tourist highlights, it is a major one. I cannot recommend it highly enough. 

Thing I didn’t expect to love: The Christmas Garden Path at Blenheim Palace. 

I cannot express to you what a tonally bizarre journey the Blenheim path was. It was as if they asked several different people to come together and make this, but refused to allow them to speak to each other, so you jump from moment to moment and it has absolutely no unity whatsoever. You begin in a very boring “Nice lights set to Pentatonix” Christmas display that in no way prespares you for what is about to happen. At one point, in what I called, “The Annual Tory Salute to the Blitz” it is literally the glowering face of Winston Churchill, illuminated, against a backdrop of flames. If you do not believe me ask @morkaischosen who was there with me. Then we went into the “Christmas Rave” where there was, I am not joking, pulsing lights as you walk in a circle around them to techno music. Is this related to Christmas? Who knows? WHo cares! There are dancing fountains! There’s a love tunnel! One of the areas I just called “A Eurovision entry from Eastern Europe” and I was completely right. It was bonkers. It was jarring. I loved it. 10/10. Also, whoever planned it out had amazing wisdom with the drink stops, I am so serious. I never had to chug nor wait, they were spaced PERFECTLY for finishing one drink and wanting another. 

But one of my actual favorite times, that I will look on with extreme fondness, is something that I think most people would have found boring to hear about: Sitting on the living room floor with @verbforverb while @tallangrycockatiel sat there and knitted, sampling whiskeys. It was not anything you’d find in a travel guide but in many ways was what I came there to do and will be one of my favorite memories (also verb trying to fucking murder me during a monring run)

[foxes-that-run]

Getaway Car

The song is about Taylor using an affair to get away from a bad relationship. Before Midnight's High Infidelity dated the events as prior to the 2016 Met Gala and before the 1989 TV Vault had lyrical similarities it was widely accepted as about the PR relationship with Tom Hiddleston. Poor Tom was rather surprised, considering they dated for a few weeks, it was after Taylor and Calvin split up and more than a year before Reputation came out. (BTW this is a 1971 Jaguar e-type, a classic British sports car, Harry the same car in red)

Getaway Car is written to the muse who Taylor had an affair with, someone who is surprised and she is sorry for hurting. For context, her relationship with Calvin and his behaviour can safely be called problematic (x, x, x, x, x, x and x). CH really 'Got out some popcorn / As soon as her rep starting going down, down, down'. Her mental state:

Getaway Car is a pithy and fun but honest about poor choices. Although a year later it's closer to 29 April, 2016, with more hindsight Taylor was warmer towards to the 'other man' in High Infidelity on Midnights:

Do you really want to know where I was April 29th? Do I really have to chart the constellations in his eyes? [and] Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?

Taylor also describes Reputation as a love story, many songs on which are about Harry, as are those on Lover which also express regret. I think the alleged affair would have been motivated from getting out of a situation which was not good for Taylor, however as we know from Harry's Debut it really hurt him. Lover and Folklore express a lot of regret, and I think they have both moved on.

Making of Video

Jack's shirt about publicity (also worn in This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things making of)

Taylor saying "Like a Dylany kinda thing", hmm...

wearing the evil eye and angel rings

And Taylor's longer, curly, darker coloured hair. To me, this looks like her hair in May and June 2017. Getaway Car was (at least in part) written and recorded in 2017. I think this adds to a song with more storytelling that diary writing, I think Taylor was quite affected by trying to get out of the relationship with Calvin, one she's sung about little and never warmly.

You can read Jack's comments about the video. It's interesting Jack commented on why it was being recorded, it seems Taylor did that a lot in the Rep era, and TBH it seems good practice to prevent any copyright claims, she also talks to the camera to note the lyric.

Live Performances

Getaway car was the first song in the Reputation Encore, it followed the Why She Disappeared poem. The tour visuals were reminiscent of I Knew You Were Trouble, the Reputation stage is an X and shot to showcase that here. The motel is called "Last time motel" which is reminiscent of The Last Time. It ends on Taylor getting into a black vintage convertible reminiscent of Blank Space.

It was an Era's surprise song 27 May 2023, Jack Antonoff joined Taylor on stage and added a nice sarcastic "oh yeah, we're both sorry." The last time Taylor was seen with MH was the 18th May, the break up was reported 5 June 2023.

Lyrics

No, nothin' good starts in a getaway car It was the best of times, the worst of crimes I struck a match and blew your mind But I didn't mean it, and you didn't see it

'It was the best of times, the worst of crimes' is a reference to Charles Dickens A Tale of Two Cities. The cities being Paris and London. This quote is in a passage that describes Taylors 2016 quite well: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, [...] it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair” It reminds me of "This Summer is the Apocalypse".

'Worst of Crimes' is similar to Where do broken hearts go "All the rest of my crimes don't come close"

"Struck match and blew your mind" is similar to "Strike a match, then you blow it out" in Say don't go. and Right Where You Left Me: "Matches burn after the other"

The ties were black, the lies were white In shades of gray in candlelight I wanted to leave him, I needed a reason

"Ties were black, likes were white" appears to point to the Met Gala, and I do think that is the intention of the line (and relationship) Taylor also was at the Black-tie Vanity Fair Oscar Party in LA on 28 February 2016, the day Harry tweeted (in LA) an Elvis Stuck on You Lyric "You can shake an apple off an apple tree." Harry was not at the Vanity Fair party, however he also has leaks from this era that refer to picking his muse up and driving them home. I did something bad and Sweet Creature have more on that time.

The shades were grey is similar to 50 Shades of Grey, which Taylor wrote I don't wanna live forever for about Harry. Candles are also in New Years Day "Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor" and Hunger "Candles burnt down to the floor"

"X" marks the spot where we fell apart He poisoned the well, I was lyin' to myself I knew it from the first Old Fashioned, we were cursed We never had a shotgun shot in the dark (oh!)

'X Marks the Spot where we fell apart' is line from Hilary Duff Breathe in. Breathe Out which Taylor said she liked in an Tumblr post 25 June 2015 and used the melody of in Paper Rings and title in Labyrinth. It's a song and line that is sad about the relationship not working out with someone untruthful. In the 2015 timeline the timing of this post is a little interesting.

'Poisoning the well' is meaning Calvin ruined the chance of this affair by discrediting or ridiculing it, with the diss track Ole.

An Old Fashioned is whiskey, also in Gorgeous "Whiskey on Ice, Sunset and Vine, you’ve ruined my life by not being mine"

Never had a shotgun shot in the dark is similar to Say Don't Go: "I've known it from the very start / We're a shot in the darkest dark"

You were drivin' the getaway car We were flyin', but we'd never get far

Driving is a Haylor theme.

Flying is a Haylor theme.

Don't pretend it's such a mystery Think about the place where you first met me Ridin' in a getaway car There were sirens in the beat of your heart Should've known I'd be the first to leave Think about the place where you first met me In a getaway car, oh-oh-oh No, they never get far, oh-oh-ah No, nothin' good starts in a getaway car

The line "think about the place where you first met me" is also often referred to in reference to Taylor meeting Tom Hiddleston at the Met, which again I think is with intention. Though there is not a particular reason to think someone at the Met Gala would do this.

It's also generally assumed Harry and Taylor met at the Kids Choice Awards in 2012, however neither has confirmed this, and it is simply the first time they were seen together by fans. As 2011 timeline outlines it seems Harry and Taylor were already connected then. These lyrics indicates their first meeting was brief (Holy Ground), she was not over Jake (Begin Again) and she was not looking for love (Suburban Legend):

Holy Ground - Back to a first glance feeling on New York time

Begin Again - Took a deep breath in the mirror / He didn't like it when I wore high heels / But I do

Suburban Legends - I didn't come here to make friends / We were born to be suburban legends

It was the great escape, the prison break The light of freedom on my face But you weren't thinkin' and I was just drinkin' While he was runnin' after us, I was screamin', "Go, go, go!" But with three of us, honey, it's a sideshow And a circus ain't a love story, and now we're both sorry (we're both sorry)

..Ready for it? "And he can be my jailer, Burton to this Taylor" and in Afterglow "Put you in jail for something you didn't do"

The only other Circus Lyric is Mirrorball: And they called of the circus, burned the disco down, but they use visuals (below)

CH and TS were over by the Met Gala with the official Break up announced 1 June, 2016, Taylor wasn't even seen with TH till the 14th June, 2016 - there was no running after and the Circus was Taylor and Tom's PR relationship.

However Calvin, Harry and Taylor, was a public sideshow:

That started in 2015 with the BBMA's in May 2015

Calvin's Twitter fight with One Direction on Twitter in August 2015

Writing Ole in February 2016

Taylor and CH starting a public fight over This is What you Came for in July 2016.

Harry and Taylor have used circus imagery the Red Tour, which the hat for is also in the End Game Video and Harry's Daylight video is (french) Circus Themed and there is a carnival in the Willow MV.

"X" marks the spot where we fell apart He poisoned the well, every man for himself I knew it from the first Old Fashioned, we were cursed It hit you like a shotgun shot to the heart (oh!)

This second chorus changes shot in the dark to shot in the heart. :(

We were jet-set, Bonnie and Clyde (oh-oh) Until I switched to the other side, to the other side It's no surprise I turned you in (oh-oh) 'Cause us traitors never win I'm in a getaway car I left you in a motel bar Put the money in a bag and I stole the keys That was the last time you ever saw me (oh!)

In Ready for it Taylor likened her and her muse to 'Burton and Taylor', here she's used another famous couple 'Bonnie and Clyde' Taylor and Harry have used outlaw metaphors (list below).

'Switched to the other side', is going back to the other person in the three person sideshow. I think this is going to the Bahamas with Calvin only 2 weeks after the VF Oscar party/apple tweet.

Is it over now? "You dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor"

Cruel Summer "Hang your head low In the glow of the vending machine"

...... FTDT "Woke up alone in this hotel room"

Outlaw Metaphors:

Stand up (1D) - I won't be leavin' till I've finished stealin' / Every piece of your heart' and 'I'm a thief, I'm a thief (Call me a thief) / I'm a thief, I'm a thief (But you should know your part) / I'm a thief, I'm a thief (I'm only here) / I'm a thief, I'm a thief ('Cause you stole my heart)

Stockholm Syndrome (HS) - Who's that shadow holding me hostage?

Ready for it (TS) - Knew I was a robber first time that he saw me / Stealing hearts and running off and never saying sorry / But if I'm a thief, then he can join the heist

Cowboy like me (TS) I've got some tricks up my sleeve / Takes one to know one You're a cowboy like me

MMIH (HS) - I walked the streets all day / Running with the thieves

Daylight (TS) - Maybe you ran with the wolves and refused to settle down

I was ridin' in a getaway car I was cryin' in a getaway car I was dyin' in a getaway car Said goodbye in a getaway car Ridin' in a getaway car I was cryin' in a getaway car I was dyin' in a getaway car Said goodbye in a getaway car

This outtro is similar to lyrics on Lover, so much @cntfightmydemonsthyknowhowtoswim and I wonder if parts of Lover and Reputation are the same events.

Cruel Summer: I'm not dying / You say that we'll just screw it up in these trying times / We're not trying

Cruel Summer: I'm drunk in the back of the car and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar (oh), and

Death By A Thousand Cuts: Saying “Goodbye” is death by a thousand cuts

[ombre-ame]

"That was a memorable day to me, for it made great changes in me. But it is the same with any life. Imagine one selected day struck out of it, and think how different its course would have been. Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day."

Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

#connections #life #ife-changing-events# these-are-words

@ombre-ame

Aug 8/24