#General Marceau

[gabrielferaud]

“Les Bleus”, the Republican set of a pair of Grimaud Royalist/Republican Vendee war themed playing card decks with text and art by Jean Bruneau

[Open images for better quality + more under cut]

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: The Bear

Caitlin Marceau: so that's where we talk things out, eh? Marceau: oh sorry i meant to say Marceau: this is where we talk things oot, eh? King: wow caitlin that sure is Canadian! King: this might be the most canadian thing i've ever heard Marian Engel: not so fast!

Marian Engel: did i hear someone say that's the most canadian thing they'd ever heard King: yeah i Engel: maybe you don't know Engel: about my bear fucking story King: King: uh

Engel: i have a story about a woman fucking a bear King: Poe: Barker: Lovecraft: Koontz: Engel: CBC radio called it the most quintessential canadian story

King: is King: is bear fucking a quintessential canadian thing? Engel: oh yeah absolutely Engel: would CBC lie? King:   Engel: would the 1976 Governor General's Literary Award be wrong?

King: no it's just King: that is not a stereotype i had heard before Engel: oh i see Engel: you're one of those americans who thinks we all just fuck moose King: no i Engel: for your information we have more than just moose King: Engel: there's a wide variety of sexy wildlife

Engel: there's bears, wolverines King: you really don't need to list them Engel: beavers Edward Lee: haha beavers yeah boi Engel: no not like that gross Engel: i'm talking about fucking giant aquatic rodents like a normal person

Engel: submitted for the approval of the midnight society, i call this the tale of the sexy bear Poe: is this really appropriate? Barker: shut up edgar Barker: let the woman talk Barker: i think we all want to hear this

Poe: i mean, is this story scary? this seems like more of a taboo romance Sarban: yeah edgar SHUT UP Sarban: this is the good shit

[mariacallous]

In Jesse Eisenberg’s new film, a pair of American Jewish cousins on a heritage tour of Poland sneak back onto a train they already had tickets for, after getting off at the wrong stop.

“It’s the principle of the thing,” says Benji, played by Kieran Culkin. “We shouldn’t have to pay for tickets in Poland. This is our country.”

“No it’s not,” says David, played by Eisenberg. “It was our country. They kicked us out because they thought we were cheap.”

It is an exchange that encapsulates the mix of pathos, humor and fast-paced banter that Eisenberg brings to “A Real Pain,” which he wrote and directed in addition to stars in.

Eisenberg, 41, loosely based the script and characters on a composite of real people and experiences, including a 2008 visit with his now-wife to what was once his great-aunt’s house in Poland until 1939 — back when the Eisenbergs were still “Ajzenbergs.”

“I was at this house, I was standing in front of it, and I was expecting to feel something specific and revelatory, and nothing came,” Eisenberg said in a Zoom interview. “That feeling of emptiness kind of stayed with me for a long time. I was trying to diagnose the emptiness, and I was wondering: Is it because I’m an unfeeling person? Or is it because it’s really just impossible to connect to the past in an easy way, in a kind of external way?”

All these years later, “A Real Pain,” which hits theaters Friday, seeks to ask those questions, Eisenberg says: “How do we reconnect to the past? And how do our modern struggles connect to the struggles of our families?”

Eisenberg, best known for his cerebral, often neurotic turns in “The Social Network,” the FX limited series “Fleishman is in Trouble” and a number of Woody Allen films, has returned to the Holocaust as a subject in a number of projects. In 2013 he wrote and starred in “The Revisionist, an off-Broadway play about a Polish survivor of the Holocaust.” In 2020 he took part in a staged reading at New York’s Museum of Jewish Heritage of “The Investigation,” Peter Weiss’ documentary play about the Frankfurt Auschwitz Trials of 1963-1965. That same year he played Marcel Marceau in “Resistance,” about the famed mime’s role in the French resistance.

As in “Treasure,” a movie released this year in which Lena Dunham and Stephen Fry star as a daughter and father who travel to Auschwitz, “A Real Pain” is about the main characters’ evolving relationship and about the legacy of the Holocaust on American Jews now two generations removed from the genocide.

In Benji and David Kaplan, viewers are introduced to two very different expressions of trauma: Benji feels everything and has no filter and an ability to get people to open up, while David is overly cautious, analytical and takes medication for obsessive-compulsive disorder.

They set out for Poland while reeling from the death of their grandmother, a Holocaust survivor, joining a tour group of adults much older than they are. The group is led by facts-obsessed guide James (Will Sharpe), and includes Marcia (Jennifer Grey), whose marriage recently fell apart, as well as a survivor of the Rwandan genocide, Eloge (Kurt Egyiawan).

Egyiawan’s character is based on a real person, Eloge Butera, who converted to Judaism because, Eisenberg said, “the only people he felt connected to were older Jewish people who could relate to the experience.” Eisenberg and Butera have stayed in touch since meeting at a wedding years ago, and Eisenberg said he had always thought Butera’s story made him an interesting model for a trip participant.

“As I was writing, of course, it occurred to me that it does this other thing, which is allow the audience to broaden out their perspective,” Eisenberg said from Indiana, wearing the same red Indiana University baseball cap his character wears throughout the film. (Eisenberg dropped out of Hebrew school in his native New York City but has recently begun attending a synagogue in Bloomington, Indiana, where he lives with his family.)

He added, “It allows me to bring in other stories of trauma in a way that’s not kind of academic, but actually in the physical presence of this man who is a survivor.”

As the movie’s characters reckon with their personal and collective trauma, the main characters’ differences come into stark relief. Benji wisecracks his way across the brittle terrain, while David deals with a sense of guilt for ever having felt like his own problems were legitimate.

On a walk with the group, the cousins briefly imagine what their life would be like if the Holocaust didn’t happen. They would probably be religious Jews, Benji thinks, and have beards, and not touch women, according to traditional interpretations of Jewish law. Bottom line: They would likely still live in Poland.

That’s a scenario with some appeal for Eisenberg, who developed such an affection for the country while filming there that he decided to seek citizenship, an option often available to descendants of Polish Holocaust survivors. He will become a citizen this month and formally mark the occasion at the Polish embassy in Washington, D.C., which will also screen the film.

“I think of myself as a New Yorker through and through, because I go to Broadway shows and I was born here, but the reality of my lineage is that we were Polish for a lot longer,” Eisenberg said. “There’s something so kind of sad about the way things can end so abruptly and be forgotten so abruptly, because to remember was so painful, because of the war and because so many people were killed. And so the way I think about it is I’m trying to reconnect.”

Filming in Poland, Eisenberg said, allowed him to experience the generosity of the people living there who worked to tell his family’s story and preserve the memory of the Holocaust, defying his expectations of contemporary Polish cultural attitudes toward the Holocaust.

In 2018, the Polish government, led by the right-wing nationalist Law and Justice Party, passed a law criminalizing speech blaming Poland for crimes committed by the Nazis, part of a broad effort to demand pride in Polish history. (The party was ousted from power last year.) The law created a chilling effect for some stewards of Holocaust history, curbing a public reckoning about the degree to which Poles collaborated with the Nazis.

The crackdown on “unpatriotic” accounts of Polish history also caused a shakeup at the Polin Museum, Poland’s national Jewish museum, where “A Real Pain” had its international premiere in May. A museum leader was pushed out when he sought to stage an exhibit about a wave of antisemitic persecution in 1968. When the museum recently marked its first decade, Eisenberg spoke virtually at the gala.

Eisenberg said the political tensions over Holocaust memory did not encroach on him as he filmed on location, including at the interior of the Majdanek concentration camp, which remains remarkably preserved.

“I’m aware of it in a kind of intellectual way, but my experience there was just the exact opposite,” he said. “I was working with a crew of 150 people who were all eager and working their asses off to try to make my personal family story come to life.”

In gaining permission to film at Majdanek, Eisenberg said he benefited from telling a story that is rooted firmly in the present, even though the camp uniquely lends itself to filmmaking set in the past because it remains in roughly the same condition as it was in when the Nazis operated it.

“A few things were in our favor: Most movies want to shoot in Majdanek, and they want to turn it into 1942 Auschwitz, and they want to have 100 extras in Nazi uniforms running around with guns. We were trying to do the opposite,” Eisenberg said. “What we were trying to do was depict Majdanek as it is now as a tourist site, in an attempt to do the exact thing Majdanek is trying to do itself, which is to try to bring awareness to this, to the horrors that occurred on these grounds.”

He said he had ended up becoming close with a number of young scholars on the staff at the camp memorial. “Our relationship started off with suspicion,” Eisenberg recalled, “and wound up as a beautiful meeting of the minds.”

Eisenberg said he believed that collaborating with others around his age — removed by generations from direct connection with the Holocaust — enabled “A Real Pain” to channel a fresh approach to grappling with the past.

“I’m in a younger generation,” he said. “I have enough distance to go to Poland … and not feel the kind of visceral memories of pain, but going there with an open heart and mind and meeting people who I love and who are contemporaries and friends and who are working to make the world a better place.”

[anemoiawithatouchofobsession]

Yamaguchi Momoe, 70s showa idol.

One thing i love about that generation is their "bookmark" format photos. As you can see all of these photos are longer than wider, and they hav some sort of text below. I like to call it the "bromide" format, like a poster basically. This could be easily printed out, laminated and then sold as bookmarks, especially in Korea. It was basocally the photocard of the 80s.

In Korea, American actresses Brooke Shields, Sophie Marceau, Phoebe Cates, Taiwanese actress Joey Wong (also known in Korea as Wang Jo-hyun), and other stars such as Isabel Azani were popular "bookmark goddesses". While on the international side, they were held to a more mature beauty standard, the Korean "bookmark goddesses" were picked based on how innocent and youthful their looks were.

The most famous ones are singer Lee Ji Yeon, actresses Lee SangAh, Ha Heera, Kim Hye Soo, Lee Mi Yeon, Choi Soo Ji, Chae Shi Ra, Choi Jin Shil and a lot more.

Maybe I'll post a few bookmarks on here later!

[josefavomjaaga]

Dragon!Soult meets Ney (June 1796)

This is another contribution to @cadmusfly's dragon marshalate au. Inspired by an actual event that happened in 1796, Soult's retreat from Herborn, supported by Ney (as detailed in the memoirs of Ney published by his family). I turned it into the first meeting of Soult and his future partner in crime rider, Ney.

Dust and disappointment had settled on the men's faces in equal measures. Now exhaustion added to it, resulting in an overwhelming sense of dread. The chaotic retreat they had executed during the last hours had infuriated chef d'escadron Michel Ney. But there was little he could do, except try to keep his squadron of hussars together and in a condition that might allow them to fight back. If ever that chance arose, despite the current lack of command or overall sense of direction. In fact, this was the first time the French could catch a breath and reunite some of the troops the numerically superior Austrians had dispersed. Routed, truth be told, but Ney did not want to use this term, not even in his thoughts. He watched as some of his superiors, among them general Kleber, in charge of the vanguard, general-in-chief Jourdan and the dragon general Lefebvre, gathered for an impromptu war council. Ney dismounted and led his horse a bit closer, so he could listen in. He immediately noticed that Lefebvre was just as furious as he, his tail angrily snapping through the air, his telepathic voice clearly audible outside the small circle of generals, down to his Alsatian accent. Usually, rather large dragons like him would crouch or lie down on the ground when interacting with humans, to be somewhat on their eye level. Right now, Lefebvre was standing up, despite his visible exhaustion, seemingly unable to calm down, stomping the ground with one or several of his six claws repeatedly. What do you mean I can’t go? I may be tired, true. But I’ll still be able to fly far enough to reach those damned Austrian bastards and kill a few of them. I’ll just drop down on them and crush them when I’m at the end of my forces. I’d gladly get myself killed for that pleasure. "Don’t be foolish, old friend." That was Kléber, again with the Alsatian accent. "This would be a big loss for barely a gain", Jourdan added. "We will get back at them, Lefebvre, don’t you worry. But first we need to regroup, reorganise the troops, give everyone a chance to recover. Then we strike back." Now you’re talking! - Lefebvre now did stretch out on the ground, his large body blocking a part of the road. He didn’t seem to care. - To be honest, I could need some rest. And I’m not sure I still could fly. Not sure I could even only walk back before falling into stupor. "Please don’t do that right now." Kléber rubbed his face. "You’re our only dragon left at the vanguard. We might still need you.« Lefebvre’s head rose from his paws. - The only? Where’s the drakeling then?

"Whom do you mean?" Jourdan shook his head. "We’ve sent all dragon units back to join Marceau. Especially the young, as they were quite exhausted." Why, I mean the boy of course. Little Soult. Jourdan looked at Kléber, he seemed confused. "Are you talking about that maroon dragon who was part of your staff? The one almost your size?" He may be getting close to me in size but he’s still growing, Lefebvre retorted impatiently. - Boy barely learned how to properly use his wings. So, where is he? You had sent him to Herborn with his infantry unit, if memory serves? Where did you tell him to go? A long silence followed. The generals were exchanging rapid glances, several shrugged apologetically, somebody coughed. Are you trying to tell me that nobody told Soult about our retreat? - Lefebvre’s telepathic voice now boomed over the road, loud enough for everyone in the whole camp to hear. - That he is back there alone, surrounded by the Austrians? "Well", Kleber said sheepishly, "I kinda had assumed that you had ..." You know precisely how bad I am with all that organisational and telepathy stuff! That is exactly what I need Soult for! Besides, I only learned about the order to retreat by accident myself! The kid was not even under my command! "Could you reach out to him now?", asked Jourdan. Lefebvre's answer was accompanied by a deep, guttural growl. - As exhausted as I am, over such a distance? No way. I need to focus for this kind of thing, and right now, I can barely keep my wits together enough to not fall asleep.

The awkward silence returned. Finally, Jourdan said: "Maybe he’s started his retreat of his own accord. He and his men might already be on their way to join us." Lefebvre seemed sceptical. - What were his orders? "To hold the position at Herborn in order to cover our left flank." No conditions? No if, no until, no unless? - Then he’ll hold out until the bitter end. The boy breathes hierarchy. An order is an order. If he has not learned of our retreat and assumes that we’re still there holding the line, he will not budge. The generals were about to start arguing again but Ney felt he needed to interfere. Of course he was aware that he was overstepping his boundaries. But what use was a prolonged discussion when it was clear something had to be done? "I can go", he blurted out, taking another step closer. "My men and I had not seen much action yet before we were told to run. We’d love to bash in some enemy heads, maybe save those men and their dragon in the process if there’s still time." The generals looked at him thoughtfully. "They’re most likely already surrounded", said Jourdan. Ney shrugged. "We’ll fight our way through, then." There’s no time to loose! If the redhead wants to go, let him go! At the very least we need to see what happened to them! "Alright!" Jourdan nodded. "Go get what you need to prepare, fresh horses if you can find any. Don’t forget to restock in ammunition, as that of Soult’s men must be quite depleted when you reach them. Then set off, and bring us news. Good luck!"

- It took them almost a day to get back to where the cut-off troops were supposed to be, during which they had to alternately hide from marching Austrian corps too strong for them to fight, and sabre their way through smaller units trying to hold them up. When they finally reached the surroundings of Herborn, it was not hard to figure out where precisely to find their brothers in arms. The sound of cannon fire from a wooded hill close by was a dead giveaway. "They’re still holding out!", one of Ney’s cavalrymen exclaimed. "Those guys are crazy! Anybody with half a brain would have surrendered by now!" From their position on a light slope, they could barely make out the lines of blue French uniforms, hidden behind trees and scrubs, firing at the Austrians coming at them from all sides. And then, all of a sudden, a large dark shadow rose from the foliage, above the bushes lining the forrest, launching itself at a group of Austrians threatening to break through. The white-clad enemies froze in shock, then turned and took to their heels. The dragon did not pursue them but immediately returned into the cover provided by the forrest. In truth, he had not flown at the Austrians before. It had been more of a leap, a pounce. Presumably, he was already too exhausted to fly, or at the very least felt the need to save his strength in order to prolong the fight. His return caused some satisfaction among the men defending the hill, their cheering drifted over to where Ney and his men were holding.

"Let’s try to save the madmen", Ney commented drily. "The Austrians are busy running, this might be our best chance to get through." There was some resistance from a unit of Austrian cavalry trying to take them in the flank, but Ney’s men made it. And as soon as the beleaguered French in the forrest recognized the approaching strangers as friends, they attacked the Austrians with such well-aimed gunfire that the enemies hastily turned their horses away. Ney’s men entered the camp, welcomed by another round of cheers. "Who’s in command here?" "The dragon." A man, his grin gleaming white out of a face darkened from gun powder, grabbed the horse’s reigns from Ney with one hand and with the other pointed at a large, dark maroon mass of muscles and scales that was croaching on the ground in the middle of the camp and scrutinizing Ney from behind half-closed lids. "Greetings." Ney decided that this was not the time for lengthy introductions. "General Jourdan and general Kléber sent us to bring you the order to retreat." Glad to see you. The dragon’s voice in Ney’s head sounded dark and somewhat flat, as if deliberately held back. - I had almost feared headquarters had forgotten about us. "Actually, that’s pretty much what happened", said Ney. "You’re the only unit still holding out, the rest of the army is already retreating behind the river Lahn. I’m Ney, by the way." Soult of Saint-Amans. - Presumably, that was the dragon’s name. Or possibly an unknown curse. The situation surely was dire enough to allow the use of profanities.

Did you experience any difficulties in reaching us? Ney heard the dragon’s voice again after a moment of silence. "Difficulties? You’re entirely cut off. I doubt many others than us would have gotten through to you at all. You have enemies on all sides. We barely expected to find you still fighting." The silence returned. This dragon clearly was not of the chatty variety. "So, need any help from me and my men in order to get out of here?" We’re good. - The dragon sounded almost offended by the offer. "Oh, come on." Ney nearly started laughing. He understood military pride but this was ridiculous. "Your situation is desperate. You have gotten lucky so far but as soon as the Austrians attack in earnest, it’s over." What you witnessed on arrival was the fifth attempt by the Austrians to take our position, the dragon informed him matter-of-factly. - According to my calculations we can fight off a sixth and a seventh as well. We could possibly hold out longer. But we only have the small guns of our riding artillery at our disposition, and our ammunition is almost depleted. "Well, as far as that is concerned, we brought some stocks." I see. This help is gladly accepted. - There was another silence, then the dragon’s voice added, almost sheepishly: My thanks. Maybe this was a way of apologizing for his rude tone before. Ney suppressed a sigh. Dragons. You never knew with them. He had been told some were not much acquainted with human behaviour and common courtesy. And some were but didn’t care.

"So, how about me and my men at least create some diversion in order to facilitate your men’s escape?" Ney proposed. "If we cause enough chaos among the Austrians, and if you’re running quick enough, some of you might just be able to reach the main road leading west." I do not plan on leaving any of my men behind. They have fought like lions. They deserve to be safe. "What is your plan then?" To march out in formation, flags flying, and to fend off the Austrian attacks as we have done until now. I regret not having a full band here but the sound of our drums will replace that of ‚Ça ira’. Ney decided that these guys definitely were crazy. "That’s quite a daring plan that might lead you all right into disaster, after you managed to hold out for so long." To the contrary. An organised, slow retreat, if done well, is the only option promising success. At least more pomising than a reckless dash over open territory that might at best save a few but would give the Austrians the possibility to take us out one by one. Ney thought about how the rest of the Sambre-et-Meuse army had been routed. He admitted that the dragon had a point. "Well, I’m looking forward to how your plan will be executed. Any objections against me and my hussars tagging along?" Not at all, I’d even be honoured. - Ah, apparently the dragon could be civil if he wanted to. - You might provide us with valuable information during our march. "Ha. So you do want my help, yes?" There was a tingling sensation in Ney’s mind that accompanied the dragon’s telepathic message, something like the idea of grim amusement. Ney assumed it was the dragon’s way to smirk. Well, to be honest, our situation is indeed pretty desperate.

- They marched at first in a column, the dragon at its head, artillery, baggage and ammunition carts in the middle. For a long moment the enemy stared at them, presumably in disbelief, then they decided to do the obvious, send cavalry at them and sabre these suicidal idiots to pieces. Even Ney and his men in their hiding place sensed the dragon’s commands that, within seconds, as it seemed, caused his men to form a square. By the time the Austrian horses reached the French troops, they encountered a human wall decorated with bayonetts on every side, surrounding in their middle the dragon, the carts and the little artillery they had. Ney’s men had distributed what they could share in ammunition among Soult’s men, and those put the powder and bullets to good use. Bodies in white uniforms, now sprinkled with red, dropped to the ground around the French square, riderless horses ran free. Now would be a good time. That much Ney knew himself, no need for this annoying dragon to tell him. The ease with which Soult managed to convey his orders, and the commanding force that somehow accompanied it, astonished Ney, but mostly it annoyed him. "Let’s go!" he called out to his men. "Let’s show that oversized crossbreed of a lizard and a bat what we can do!" As they broke out of the forrest at a galopp, yelling war cries, sabres flashing, crashing into the flank of the already confused Austrian cavalrymen and sending them to flee for good, Ney sensed another emotion in his mind. And it was not his own. It felt like a bit of piqued pride, mingled with grim amusement and, a heartbeat later, surprise. Had the dragon somehow sensed what Ney had told his men? And had Ney just picked up on the dragon’s reaction to it? It seems so. I apologize, the mental link allowing us to communicate in thought must be stronger than necessary. But your emotions also were really … loud, if you allow me to phrase it like that.

"Yeah, whatever. Just stop talking to me, I have some Austrians to kill here. Smalltalk during battle is highly confusing!" I tend to agree. Both about the Austrians and the confusion. While Ney and his hussars put the enemy cavalry to flight, the dragon took another giant leap over the rows of his men, clawing at some enemies who apparently had not yet got the message. The sight of dragon claws and dragon teeth taught them quickly enough, and they started running as well. Everybody hold formation. Close ranks. We continue our movement. My sincere thanks to chef d’escadron Ney and his hussars. This time, the dragon’s telepathic message seemingly was directed at his men – and somehow at Ney’s, too. Cheering, the hussars raised their sabers in greeting, Soult’s infantrymen answered by waving their muskets. Half an hour and another minor engagement later, they reached the main road. Ney, covering the infantry’s march at a short distance to the side, barely dared to believe it: they actually had broken through the ring of enemies. It’s a first step. We’re not out of danger yet, if the area really is as full of enemies as you told us.

"Are you still reading my mind?" I cannot read anyone’s mind. I can only answer to what is directed at me. "I did not fucking direct anything at you! Why are you still in my thoughts?" Why do you keep dragging me in? Just close your mind. "How?" How would I know? Do what you did before. As far as I have learned, if you didn’t expect me to answer to your thoughts, if you did not in some way direct them at me, I would never be aware of them. This was the first time I sensed your thoughts since we came out of the combat against the Austrians, so I guess this was the first time you directed a thought at me. "I fucking didn’t!" Why would he, after all? Why would Ney care about the opinion of some stupid dragon general? I do not know but I’m glad you seem to do. After all, it is only reasonable to coordinate our movements. "Get. Out. Of. My. Thoughts." Ney could clearly sense that the dragon was still there, that he had indeed heard him. He even believed to sense something that was probably the dragon equivalent of a deep sigh. But Soult did not answer, so Ney could at least pretend that he had won the discussion. "Sir?" One of his hussars looked at Ney quizzically. "Are you feeling alright? You were talking to yourself, it seems." "I’m fine." Ney turned his horse around und clapped his spurs to it, signalling his hussars to follow suit. ‚We’re scouting the region ahead’, he thought. Pointedly.

If I am allowed to answer this time, I’ll call that a splendid idea. Thank you. Ney refused to answer or to even acknowledge the dragon’s reply. Instead, he tried to get as much distance between himself and that annoying winged reptile as he could, hoping this would break the link. It seemed to work. Or maybe it was the fact that Ney had to focus on other things. Like, not being detected by Austrian patrols, of which they saw several, though none of them were very strong. They returned to the marching infantry. Dusk was approaching, Soult’s men were setting up camp at a short distance from the road, hidden behind some hedges, in an orchard. The returning hussars could easily have missed it but as soon as Ney started wondering about where to find Soult, he again sensed the dragon’s presence in his mind. This whole dragon business was crazy as hell, he thought. May I ask if you have ever worked closely with one of my kind before? "Not really. I’ve met Lefebvre a couple of times, but only for brief interviews." Were there no dragons where you grew up? "In Saarlouis? Not that I’m aware of. Surely not in our quarter." I see. Would you prefer to come here so we can discuss matters directly, in each others’ presence? It might seem more natural to you. "We’re on our way already." -

Ney’s horse was grazing while its rider had his "talk" with the dragon, audibly crunching tiny green apples between its teeth that had fallen off the trees and now hid in the lush grass. Soult was quite happy about the information he received. I only wish we had a better grasp on the overall situation. You and your men are our only eyes and ears. Without you, we’d be marching blind into territory probably controlled by the enemy. "We’ve been doing our best but we cannot cover a larger territory. The horses need rest, at least for a couple of hours." So do the men. You have done much for us already. We shall wait until dawn. Ney hesitated. "Why don’t you do it? Scout the area, I mean. You’re a dragon. You can fly." I could. If I was not so exhausted myself. Flying, lifting a body as large as mine into the air, takes a lot of strength. I’m trying to save mine for battles. "But if we knew about Austrian troops on the road between us and our main army, we could probably avoid the battles entirely. No need to save your strength then." Soult seemed to ponder that. - You may be right. But dragons do not make the best scouts. In my opinion.

"What are you on about? That’s what they’re most often used for." And not always with satisfactory results. It’s quite easy to overlook or misinterpret things from above, especially when you at the same time need to focus on navigating thermals, wind gusts and air currents. That’s why most often, dragon scouts are given a rider. He looked at Ney quizzically, his head slightly tilting to one side. Ney put one fist on his hip. "Is that an offer? Or a challenge?" You have come to us through enemy territory, you are obviously daring. You also seem to be quite attentive and intelligent. So unless you have bad eyesight… "Nothing wrong with my eyes. I’m game if you are. How does this work?" We brought a harness and a saddle with us for such occasions. "Wonderful", Ney said. He did not feel quite as bold as his tone indicated but he would rather be quartered than admitting that in front of the dragon. "When?"

It will soon be dark. Let us take some rest and set out at dawn. - Climbing into the saddle he felt a bit awkward, and the sudden jolt as the dragon spread its massive wings and took to the air made Ney cling tightly to the saddle until his knuckles turned white. But once he had gotten used to that, he was mesmerized. He had always loved riding. The rush, the speed, the sheer power of a horse at full galopp – but what were they compared to this? "My god, we’re flying! We’re really flying!" That was the plan, yes. Wind forcefully tugged at Ney's hair. He saw the camp getting smaller under him. He had imagined he’d feel uneasy about that but he’d imagined wrong. This was not only not scary – this was great! This was the best thing he’d ever had! I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself but could you focus on the task at hand?

"Sure! Can you go higher?" I could but it would be contrary to the purpose of this endeavour. "Oh, come on, don’t be such a tightass. Just a little. And can you still go faster?" I try to organise my forces. "Go faster. We don’t need to linger here, my hussars have scouted this region already." Maybe Soult was not completely unimpressed by Ney’s enthusiasm. Or he wanted to show off. He did rise higher and he did go faster. Not much, but still. Ney loved it. Could you please start looking for Austrians now? Ney did. They followed the main road almost to the river Lahn. The bridge was still in the hands of the French, as the tricolor over the barricades clearly indicated, and Ney estimated the infantry would be able to reach it by afternoon. The road seemed to be mostly free. Except for a unit of white-clad soldiers that Ney discovered forraging in a village close to the road when he and Soult were already on their way back. "Go down! We can take them on!"

Why would we do that? "Why not?" It’s only a small forraging party, they’re unlikely to try bothering our march. "So? They could still alert their superiors and bring back the main army to block our way. Let’s attack them and teach them a lesson." But then they will surely alert their superiors and come after us. "Not if we scare them enough. Besides, they’ll probably think we came from the other side of the river." When Soult still hesitated, he leaned forward and dug his heels into Soult’s sides like he would have done with a horse. "Oh come on! I need to get some revenge for the way they routed us!" Stop fidgeting about! And don’t kick me, I’m not a mule! Also, hold on to the saddle. We’re going down.

And then they went down. - Neither Ney nor Soult ever learned about it, but their action this morning occasioned a rather distressed report two hours later, given by the Austrian forraging party to their superior officers, once the Habsburg soldiers had dared to leave their hiding places. "Yes, a dragon … a pretty big one … clawing and biting at us … and some red-faced, red-haired lunatic on his back, screaming at the top of his lungs and shooting his pistols and swinging his sabre left and right … even the dragon told him to stop that because the madman put the dragon’s wings at risk… frankly, I do not know which of those two was scarier..." - By that time, Ney and Soult had long rejoined their men. Whom they found already on the march, with Ney’s riders scouting ahead like the day before. Both units greeted them with the obligatory cheers. "Did they set out on their own?" No. I’d given orders. Right before you felt the need to attack those hapless Habsburgs.

"You really can just give orders with your thoughts to anyone like that? At such a distance? I must say I am impressed. A bit." I’ve become quite good at it. I worked and practised a lot. I used to be Lefebvre’s chief-of-staff. - The dragon sounded really proud of that feat. Ney also noticed how Soult’s breathing grew somewhat heavier as the dragon prepared to land next to the marching soldiers. "You alright?" I’m tired. I told you flying would take a toll on me. And that was without taking an utterly pointless fight against Austrians into account. Ney felt a bit bad but didn’t quite want to admit it. "Come on now, that was fun. I’m sure you enjoyed it, I could feel it. Also, I always imagined dragon powers were boundless." I wish they were. Hold tight to the saddle. - There was a big thud as the dragon somewhat clumsily touched ground, then Ney felt the dragon wings brush beside him as Soult folded them close to his body. - Alright. We made it. I’ll need to take a long nap once we’re safe with the main army.

Merde. Exhausting Soult to this point had not been Ney’s intention. He just had felt so powerful, almost invincible – there had been no way to resist that! Still, there was something in his mind that resembled a bad conscience. "Will you be able to get to the river on foot? Do you want me to get off so you don’t have to carry my weight?" To the contrary. Please stay. - The dragon hesitated once more, as if he, too, did not quite want to admit something. - I feel like your … great enthusiasm may actually help me. Also, if you ride on my back I could eat your horse in order to regain some of my strength. - Before Ney could protest, he added: That was a joke. "Good. Because you as much as look at my horse too closely, and you have my sabre in your neck. That was not a joke." Soult made a deep, rumbling sound that could or could not be a dragon laugh, and Ney turned to one of his men. "Claude? Take my horse and keep it safely at a distance from this scaly monsieur here. I will not need it for the rest of this trip." He proudly sat straight. "I’m riding the dragon."

[eretzyisrael]

At the extraordinary UN General Assembly in New York (2021), held at the request of the leaders of the European Union and the New Arab Bloc, Israeli representative Miriam Novak spoke.

Standing on a high podium against the backdrop of the green marble wall of the main UN meeting room, Miriam Novak said into the microphone:

 Ladies and Gentlemen! As you can see, eighty years ago, Europe, led by Germany, carried out an ethnic cleansing:

 it destroyed almost all the Jews living there. The French, Belgians, Dutch, Norwegians, Hungarians, Slovaks, Poles, Lithuanians, Ukrainians - all helped the Nazis.

You killed at least six million Jews along with their newborn babies.

Each of them could give the world children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, so you can safely multiply the number of those killed four or five times...

And now, when we are again robbed, beaten and killed in all your countries, and your courts set the murderers free, you tell us that we have no right to defense?

 Don't we have the right to warn our enemies that we will respond to a new ethnic cleansing with an even more powerful blow? 

Maybe you can name another nation that your new international community led by Iran is so fanatically striving to destroy? And for what? 

For two thousand years we lived among you, giving you our knowledge, discoveries and inventions. 

We have given you the alphabet, the Bible, the Virgin Mary, Jesus Christ, the twelve apostles, Spinoza, Disraeli, Columbus[?], Newton, Nostradamus, Heine, Mendelssohn, Einstein, Singer, Eisenstein, Freud, Landau, Gershwin, Offenbach, Rubinstein, Sen -Sans[?], Kafka, Lombroso, Montaigne, Mahler, Marcel Marceau, Vsevolod Meyerhold, Yehudi Menuhin, Stefan Zweig, Arthur Miller, Maya Plisetskaya, Stanley Kubrick, Irving Berlin, Edward Teller, Lyon Feuchtwanger, Paul Newman, Robert Oppenheimer, Benny Goodman, Eugene Ionesco, Imre Kalman, Marcel Proust, Charlie Chaplin[?], Marc Chagall, Barbra Streisand, Claude Lelouch, Steven Spielberg, Anouk Aimee, Leonard Bernstein, Norbert Wiener, Larry Page, Mark Zuckerberg, Sergey Brin, Andrew Lloyd Webber and thousands of other scientists and educators. 

Just imagine how many of the same geniuses the millions of Jews you killed, and then their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, could give birth to the world!

But these unborn geniuses disappeared forever in the ovens of crematoria, burned synagogues and mass graves.

So do you really think that with your resolutions, boycotts and sanctions we can be driven into gas chambers again? 

No, gentlemen! 

Having lived among you for two thousand years, we had to adapt to you and learn not only your languages but also something of your psychology. Otherwise, how would we have survived in Persia without Persian treachery? In Spain without Spanish cruelty? In Germany without German obedience to discipline? In France without French stinginess? In Poland, without Polish swagger, and in Russia, without swearing and the Russian habit of using yard toilets, where you need to sit like an eagle and talk about your spiritual greatness? - (Laughter in the hall.)

Read the whole thing. EY

[earhartsease]

back in 1986 us and our new housemates in bristol watched what we all agreed was the worst film we'd ever seen, and now we want to find it and watch it again to see if 38 years of life and a transition and like ten comings out and life experience in general has made it a better film or not

it's called Shanks and it came out in 1974 and is an hour and a half long but felt like three hours, and it stars Marcel Marceau the once famous french mime - and reading the synopsis it actually sounds cool

Malcolm Shanks is a sad and lonely man, deaf, mute and living with his cruel sister and her husband, who delight in making him miserable. His only pleasure, it seems, is in making and controlling puppets. Thanks to his skill, he is offered a job as a lab assistant to Dr. Walker, who is working on ways to re-animate dead bodies by instering electrodes at key nerve points and manipulating the bodies as if they were on strings. When the professor suddenly dies one night, Shanks gets the idea to apply their experimental results to a human body, and then to start exacting some revenge.

anyway, we go hunting

[beautifulfriends]

MARCEAU LABEAU

AGE: Mid-20's

PRONOUNS: He/Him

SPECIES: Beige Rabbit

Marceau LaBeau is completely unremarkable, outside o being the eldest LaBeau sibling (by two minutes).

He's still riding the high of the new hat he got four years ago.

His life is generally not very exciting and he likes it that way.

Tonight... was a little exciting.

[goranvisnjicdaily]

Uhh? What can I say? Good Monday Morning! 🤩

This, Ladies and Gentleman is Garcia Flynn all in Black! James Bond can go back to where he came from ahhah!

Joke aside, I'm not a big Bond Fan! Paul, my boyfriend is... Well I suspect because Sophie Marceau is playing in one of them hahaha! I'd rather see Goran as the next Villain in a Mission Impossible movie, it would be EPIC!

On this, I have to go work! Last week before my vacations! Truly can't wait LOL!

P.S. These were made with Pixels AI Generator, I'm not much of a drawer myself, I'd love to draw, but it does look like the doodle of a 5 years old child, so I gave up since a while 🤣🤣

[tmwwriting]

Title: Make a heaven of hell Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI) Chapter: 1/3 Word Count: 8.8K Tags/Warnings: Lucas Grey x female reader. No use of Y/N. Smut. Porn with plot (lots of plot). Bleak. Angst. Hurt No Comfort. Grimdark. Seedy strip club. Vixen Club from Hitman: Absolution x1000. General gross vibes. Hostile work environment. Illegal activities. Set during Lucas's mercenary years. Reader is a dancer. Both damaged and unhinged in their own ways (how can this go wrong?) Unhealthy relationships. Friends with benefits. Threats of violence. Threats of gender-based violence. Background/implied/referenced violence. Implied/Referenced Prostitution. Minor Original Character(s). Death of Minor Original Character(s). Undernegotiated Everything. Voyeurism. Exhibitionism. Dry humping. Fingering. Oral sex. PIV sex. CNC. Stranger sex. Unprotected sex. Semi-public sex. Rough sex. Hard kinks. Consensual but NOT safe or sane. Dark fic. Ambiguous/Open Ending. Dead dove: do not eat. A/N: Gonna have to keep writing fics set in Grey's merc years just so I can keep making hostile work environment jokes. And shout out to John Milton's 400 year old poem for the fic & chapter titles.

AO3: (X)

It's a familiar rhythm. Terms. Conditions. No hard feelings.

(Pretty songbirds belong in pretty cages, and running out the clock only works if you're the winning side.)

chapter i. in the lowest deep a lower deep

The other girls notice him first. There's a possessive tenor to their stories, the way the words curl in their mouths in a haughty bestowing, interrupted only as they part for you; you rush to the counter, wincing and clutching your bag, slotting between them and a chorus of "welcome back" before they continue, the giggling and chattering so fever-pitched you fear for the structural integrity of their vocal cords.

On a normal night you'd drop everything to get in on the gossip, kick up your feet and settle in, warm yourself by the campfire of other peoples' trivialities. But there's no time, the last bits of sand trickling down the top of the hourglass, the grit of it sinking between your teeth, even though you've broken every traffic law in the book in your efforts to get here faster. (And no doubt irreparably ruining your relationship with the scrap heap you call a car.) You've both made it though, so all's well that ends well, no matter how much the engine wails at you in protest. Stupid thing.

"And the one always in the corner, don't forget him!"

"The blonde?"

"No, no, the dark one across from him, the good-looking one. I think he—"

You'd sigh—the impatient exhale of coming in mid-story—if it wouldn't fuck up your painstaking, halting attempts at a cat eye. No matter how you angle yourself or your hand (sharp inhales when you lift your arm and move something painful behind your ribs), every flick of the gel pen leaves you more and more uneven in an odd seesaw of black ink. Cocking your head in the mirror and staring in stunned disbelief only brings the mess into further focus: definitely more Marcel Marceau than Sophia Loren, and it only gets worse. This liner clearly hates you and wants you dead—perhaps from all the times you've dropped it on grimy bathroom floors—and it's five seconds away from being javelined across the room before Maria finally takes pity on your increasingly frustrated strokes. She deftly slips the offending pen from your hand as she sits you down and goes to work fixing your face.

"Have you seen him yet?" She asks you, practically humming, so close the brightness of her aches to look at. "He's usually with a few others, at least these past couple of nights. They all look military to me, but Susy says no, too wild."

"That, and they sound British," Susy says, shrugging her shoulders and swinging her manicured feet from her perch on the countertop. Cigarette ashes gather below. You can see the No Smoking sign in the reflection of a mirror—an old joke and sour, pungent punch line. "D'you think we're being invaded by the British Army?"

This causes a cascade from the others:

"You've clearly never worked a club near a barracks—"

"Practically French, the way you'd surrender—"

"Horizontal collaboration, was it?"

"Taking your Chanel obsession a little far—"

The argument escalates without any input from you, with much maligning of various nationalities, Maria insisting that some of the men are actually American, and Susy rebutting that her handsome one, at least, is British.

"If they tip well, I don't care if they're the FBI or MI5," is all the answer you give when they turn to you as the tie breaker, kicking off another round of giggling about how good the men would look in suits, and whether they'd keep their weapons on them during sex. You do sigh, then, but not all the chirping that follows is useless, and you tuck away the tidbits of information that filter through: who stacks dances, who asks for extras, who tips well or not at all, and then more speculation about the glowering dreamboat who spoke only just enough for the girls to ascertain his accent. There's a pang of conscience from somewhere deep inside, stashed out of sight in the dark recesses of some boarded-up ruin—hunting your friends' regulars is a little low, but. . . Maybe these new guys do have money, and maybe one of them will be careless enough that you'll be able to buy yourself something nice this weekend.

It depends on the group, whether this becomes a windfall for the club or a complete shit show. Complete shit show is the safer bet—odds so short no bookie would take you up on it. These guys don't sound military, but you need to see for yourself. Experience is the best teacher: you get all kinds here, the allure of such a lively, colorful watering hole bringing everyone in from their arid planes of existence, and by now you have a pretty solid idea of what to expect from a guy just by the look of him.

Most are boring. Faceless. Excruciatingly normal. Just looking for an escape from the suburban nightmare of their daily lives, bitching and moaning as though someone's holding a gun to their head, making them work that shitty job or cave to a girlfriend's demands for marriage and babies and a white picket fence. They treat dancers like therapists, even in the champagne rooms (a real therapist would be a lot cheaper—they wouldn't have to tip those). If the guys are regulars, you know their kids' birthdays and the drama with their coworkers. Good, boring, decent take home. Things get spicier when the Delgados and Morenos start arguing over turf, as though there's not multiple routes to traffic narcotics from one side of the globe to the other; oh no, they need this little corner of the world, the bastards. Every decrepit, pot-holed street in the city will overflow with their violence, always catching more than one dancer in the floodwaters that spill over into the club. Doesn't help that management will dam the doors open for them. You try and stay far away if any happen to saunter in—bad news all around. 

Mercenaries, though. . . hit or miss. Some will tip well for a dance or two, and some are like the men from the cartels. They'll take what they want, and your menace of a boss won't care as long as they empty their wallets in the process. You try not to think of the girls who have gone missing over the years. 

There's a reason this place doesn't offer health insurance.

Continue reading on AO3.

[eukariote]

icr if someone's asked u this before but if u were to choose a cast for ur story from current actors... who would u cast?

Oh this is everything!! No one's asked me this before, and I don't have every character figured out, but I definitely know who I would cast for some of them.

Golitsyn would obviously be played by Aaron Taylor-Johnson (who do you think I am). Alyosha would have to be Timothée Chalamet (sorry). I think the young Danish actor Lucas Lynggaard Tønnesen would be good for Peter. Katya would be Elle Fanning. Her lover would be Eleanor Tomlinson. Her husband would be Nicholas Hoult (if this were the 90s, he would be Daniel Day-Lewis, but oh well, can't win em all...). Alyosha's mother would be Michelle Dockery, his father would be Hugh Grant, and his grandmother would obviously be Maggie Smith. I would cast Jude Law and Natalie Portman as the Tsar and Tsarina, and Olivia Williams as the Dowager Empress. Alyosha's wife would be Saoirse Ronan (again, if this were the 90s, she would be Winona Ryder). At school, the Major-General would be John Moulder-Brown, and the Colonel would be Ralph Fiennes.

This is getting to be rather long, so I think I'll stop there! There are a lot of 80s/90s actors that I wish I could've cast (besides the ones I've mentioned, Sophie Marceau comes to mind), but I feel like this is a decent list? Anyway, thank you for asking <3

[falsenote]

one exciting thing for all involved is now that i've read the idiot i can finally get to the film adaptations that include

- a rewatch of zulawski's l'amour braque

which i am most eager to get to out of all three because it's more of a homage / inspiration than direct adaptation also i have the security of already having seen it. it's not my favourite zulawski but i think i might like it better the second time. and i really like that compared to the book l'amour braque ends on a positive note at least that's the way i remember it. which made me realize actually that while zulawski films are generally full of depraved disgusting insanity they tend to have a positive ending, considering. and it's unavoidable to compare a bit because of course while reading i had the film in mind constantly and at first i thought the film's tone was just the zulawski signature craziness but actually the idiot turned out be really funny  -save for the soul destroying ending- like i expected the heaviness of crime and punishment all throughout but it actually made me laugh a lot... on that note i thought the 'group of unhinged characters following the main character around, constantly screaming crying throwing fits and being ridiculous' was a zulawski invention since it's present not only in l'amour braque but in his other movies BUT it literally is there in the idiot already vsgshsbxhshdwjs great minds think alike. and now that i've mentioned the crying i think the film matches the book's general hysterical energy. connected to this i think a big problem with the other two adaptations i will get to in a minute will be that they'll mess up natasha's -or whatever the english translation of her name is- character. like call zulawski a misogynist because he was but he did know how to film women with all their ambiguity inexplicability complexity and it is very true of sophie marceau's natasha i think. which might be missing from the other two versions as they were made in the beginning and the ending of the 1950s. which will be fun to compare now that i think of it but i am nevertheless a bit afraid she'll be reduced to a damsel in distress trope or whatever but then again you never know. and now that i've introduced them next item is

- 1959 italian tv adaptation

with gian maria volonté as rogozhin which is...................................................can't wait to get to it as soon as i calm down and lower my expectations. i remember a carla gravina interview where she says that when she saw him in it she couldn't decide whether he was really bad or really good. well she says something like he was 'like a dog' in it which i don't know the meaning of but i believe women. logically there's just probably something lost in translation but if she did mean dog as the literal animal on further thought it's kind of the vibe needed for the character. hyped

- kurosawa adaptation

with toshiro mifune as rogozhin this time AND setsuko hara as natasha which is !!!!!!!!! crazy. and i've been wanting to watch for YEARS but i wanted to read the book first. i have my doubts and fears with this as with the previous one, as indicated above, but it will be worth it either way for this lineup i'm sure. well let's not lie all three will be worth it for the sake of analysing and comparing them in my head

busy schedule for this year! but i will be viewing

[emiliosandozsequence]

I found your blog recently and didn't know you were writing a book?! Whoa, whoa is it fantasy, historical, romance, mystery? Who are the main characters? (Sorry if it has been asked before)

yes!! it's actually the 8th book i've ever written, but it's likely going to be the first that i get actually officially published (i've self-published two other novels in the past that can be bought on amazon!!)

the general information about the novel can be found here, but the main characters are as follows!!

father cesare michael sparrow is the main character of the story. he's a young priest, who has grown up in a highly abusive household and it's shaped who he is as a person and it shows. he's an alcoholic and a drug and sex addict in an attempt to cope with that abuse, especially because he blames himself for what his sister has endured. he also is in love with his sister and hates himself for it because of what they've suffered at the hands of their father. he has a love/hate relationship with his younger brother cole because cole is unaware of the abuse happening in the household and, as a result, cole idolizes their father, who cesare, obviously, hates. he's the oldest child and the twin brother of loa. my fc for him is francois arnaud; particularly in the man who was thursday.

loa grace sparrow is the secondary main character of the story, but nowhere near to the extent cesare is. she's got a heart condition that is slowly killing her. i'm not gonna lie: she's 100% a self-insert and her trauma mirrors mine almost exactly. cesare is in awe of her and sees her as the last good, pure thing in the world, though the reality is, he puts her on a pedestal and she's a lot less innocent than he believes her to be (not to say she's a bad person; she's just...not as pure as cesare thinks). she's just as in love with cesare as cesare is in love with her, but she gets along with cole and it's actually because of her that cole doesn't know waht their father does to them; she wants cole to retain some shred of innocence even if they can't. my fc for her is olivia hussey in romeo and juliet.

cole isaac sparrow isn't really a main character, but he's definitely in the story quite a bit. despite not knowing what's going on in the house between his father and his older siblings, he's affected by it all the same. he drinks and does drugs just as cesare does and he draws very violent images, which paper the inside of his bedroom. he starts off very spoiled, but ends up being a lot more like his older brother, which....isn't exactly a great thing tbh. my fc for him is bill skarsgard in hemlock grove.

landry marceau isn't a main character, but i added him in on a whim almost. he's cesare's best friend and, sometimes, his friend with benefits. he's jewish and studying to become a scientist at the nearby university, but he also dances at the male strip club in town, the blue tulip, to make more money to get himself through school. i want to add more of him into the story because he's just so much fun, but i haven't thought of any way to yet. my fc for him is louis garrel in the dreamers.

father douglas sparrow is the father of the sparrow children and the religious leader as well as the unofficial leader of the town of sparrow. he's the wealthiest man in town and everyone follows him either consciously or not. he's brutal, but appears kind on the outside and everyone likes his public persona. he forced cesare into being a priest and named him cesare with the hope he would be a conquerer just like his namesake. he seems to see his daughter as a replacement for the wife that went missing over twenty years ago and he doesn't really pay much attention to cole at all. my fc for him is jeffrey dean morgan in the unholy, but really just in his old man era (lol) in general.

minnie sparrow is the mother of the sparrow children and the wife of douglas that went missing twenty years ago when the twins were twelve. she is the exact opposite of her husband: loving, caring, kind, and generous. no one knows what happened to her; only that she went missing. her remains were never recovered. my fc for her is holly hunter in batman v superman.

these characters are cAKED in metaphor, in case you can't tell by their names alone and i am adding all of that metaphor into the story itself because i love imagery and symbolism.

[mariacallous]

Elektra King - and Sophie Marceau in general - was so formative to me growing up

I remember Isabella! The She-Wolf of France!

[askthechaossquad]

Meet the Squad!

All images were created using this Picrew go check it out! Mary Drew

Age: 10

Basic info: A sweet, kind girl who is often trusting of others unless there is a reason for her to not trust someone. She enjoys drawing and animating

main text colour: Red

Julia MacNamara

age: 13

Basic info: Snarky and investigative, Julia the adoptive daughter of general John MacNamara is the founder of "the change" an organization dedicated towards investigating paranormal phenomena

Main text colour: Blue

Misty Ackerman

Age: 7

Basic info: a quiet girl, shy and nervous but genuinely kind once she knows someone

Main text colour: purple

Kim Powell

Age: 7

Basic info: bubbly, social and kind she loves bunnies and is always willing to make a friend.

Main text colour: green

Willow Mccray

Age: 13

Basic info: Snarky but kind Willow spent most of her life in an orphanage before in an attempt to find out about her parents she went to the playtime co building, she also has a fear of toys... specifically ones with a hugging gimmick

Main text colour: Orange

Anne Marie Jenkins

Age: 7

Basic Info: a bubbly girl, kind, considers a certain Polar bear she calls mr Teddy as her best friend...the feeling is not mutual

Main text colour: Orange (italic) <-changed from yellow since I can't find the YELLOW TEXT COLOUR ANY MORE)

Angela Rana

Age: 8-9

Basic Info: A young girl, she often visits the Wolf Circus, her favourite animal is frogs but she also sees the performer Kedamono as a friend and is concerned for his well being

Main text colour: pink Barbra "Babs" Velseb

Age: 10 Basic info: Barbra or Babs as she is known is your average kid...if by average kid you mean having been surprise adopted by notorious cannibal Bob Velseb, with her close friend/teddy bear "Art" by her side Babs is out spoken yet quiet and loyal to her friends Main text colour: Black (Bolded)

(EDIT 2) yep...it's new character time! meet Olivia Marceau! (Also I made her using the pixel friend picrew by Olibuki since I feel like the one I usually use for the character profile images (Bright's picrew hell) didn't match the vibe that I wanted to give Olivia

Age: 5

Basic Info: a shy but kind girl with a love for all things dinosaurs, she can get overwhelmed easily so please be nice to her...she's doing her best...

Main text colour: Green (Italic)

[josefavomjaaga]

Murat and Bessières at school

Still looking for something for @flowwochair, I came across this very brief remark in the memoirs of general Jean Sarrazin (more about him below):

When I was seven, my father took me to the college in Cahors, the capital of the Lot department. My father chose this college in preference to the one in Agen, on the advice of the Comte de Fumel, whose tenant he was. [...] I was raised with Murat, Bessières and Andral, with whom I was friends. Bessières was well-behaved, a little Cato. Murat was a scatterbrain, boisterous and concerned only with his own pleasures. He was a true Paris brat (gamin de Paris).

Now, I assume this author is a highly suspicious source. Not only because he, obviously, is yet another Gascon, but mostly because he, after having served in the Revolutionary and Imperial army, defected to the British in 1810, and supplied them with plenty of information on Napoleon’s plans and the most prominent leaders of his army. As a matter of fact, in 1811 he had a book published with descriptions of several prominent figures in France, called "The Philosopher", the first chapter of which is dedicated to Marshal Soult, who was probably the most interesting to the British due to him being their main opponent in Spain, and who in this book receives much more praise than is due to him. While much of it may be plain wrong or at least cannot be verified, I feel like it’s an interesting insight into what people in the army at the time thought about these folks.

Among other things, Sarrazin gives a long description of the battle of Fleurus, with some interesting twists. Mostly he claims that Lefebvre owed his reputation as a great general only to Soult, who at the time was his chief-of-staff, and even has general Marceau exclaim that Soult had won the battle of Fleurus for them. This is completely opposite to Soult’s own memoirs, where Soult has nothing but praise for Lefebvre’s actions during the battle of Fleurus, and barely mentions his own. However, there seems to be some truth to Soult coming to the aid of one rather desperate general Marceau, as Soult mentions this, too, though in a very different context.

The demand to detach some troops at a very inopportune moment is made in Soult’s memoirs as well – but not by Marceau, but by Saint-Just. And it’s not Lefebvre and Soult who refuse, but Jourdan (whom Soult praises a lot for having had the courage to stand up to what he calls "Saint-Just's presumptuous ignorance"). I am not sure in how far these memoirs are influenced by Soult’s own long life and his own political situation, but he clearly despises Saint-Just. According to his memoirs, the whole officers’ corps was shaking with fear while the politicians were with them, literally scared to death. In front of Charleroi, one artillery capitaine allegedly was executed for having failed to meet the schedule Saint-Just had set for him.

Again, I have no clue what this is based on. But I thought it worth mentioning, maybe somebody from the Frev community can shed some light onto this incident.

(Personally, I feel like Soult may be projecting here a little of "Joseph's presumptuous ignorance" onto another episode of his life 😋)