#Jacques Expert

[lecturedesam]

C’est lundi, que lisez-vous ?

C’est lundi que lisez-vous » est un rendez-vous créé par Mallou et s’inspire du It’s Monday, What are you reading ? par One Person’s Journey Through a World of Books. il a ensuite été repris par Les paravers de Millina. Le principe de ce rendez-vous est simple, il faut répondre à trois questions chaque lundi: Qu’ai-je lu la semaine passée ? Que suis-je en train de lire en ce moment? Que vais-je…

[lesparaversdemillina]

Bilan Livresque de Janvier 2023

Je commence à pouvoir dire que je remonte la pente et que mon rythme de lecture reprend lui aussi du poil de la bête. J'espère aussi pouvoir régalé vos papilles et vos mirettes avec des articles de voyages. En attendant, je vous laisse avec un bilan en im

Cher(e) voyageur(e), Je commence à pouvoir dire que je remonte la pente et que mon rythme de lecture reprend lui aussi du poil de la bête. J’espère aussi pouvoir régalé vos papilles et vos mirettes avec des articles de voyages. En attendant, je vous laisse avec un bilan en image sous titré dont vous me direz des nouvelles XD. N’hésitez pas à me faire des retours. MoisJanvier 2022Janvier…

[theroyalsims]

ROYAL WEDDING: GUS AND QUEEN, PRINCE JACQUES WILL SPLIT THE WEDDING BILL - PUBLIC WON'T SPEND A PENNY

Days after rumours started circulating online that Anya has commissioned a new tiara and FIVE couture dresses for her wedding, the Palace sidesteps the issue by releasing an unprecedented statement earlier today.

The brief announcement reads:

"The Crown Princess and Mr. Aslan, with the consent of Her Majesty The Queen and His Royal Highness Prince Jacques, wish to inform the public that the matter of settling the costs of the upcoming royal wedding will be conducted in a way that will honour both Brindleton and Ekhkare traditions.

In that regard, all wedding costs will be shouldered privately by Her Majesty and His Royal Highness, as well as Mr. Aslan."

The brief but very clear statement is said to be an indirect response to the earlier rumours concerning Anya's would-be wedding outfit/s.

A royal expert weighs in:

"This is a very tactful way of handling the brewing controversy concerning just how extravagant this wedding will be. Our royals may be well-loved, but still, there's a significant number of people who would do anything to criticise the royal family. This is nipping it in the bud, all while adhering to the narrative of 'respecting tradition.' Basically, in normal people speak, this is the Royals saying - 'don't worry, you're not shelling out a single Penny. We're paying, so shut up, back off, and let Anya and Gus enjoy their big day.' Hopefully, this will silence the naysayers."

While it's customary in Brindleton that the brides' family will pay for the wedding, in Ekhkare, the reverse is true - it's the groom's family who foots the wedding bills. Gus, although born in Rennaux, has a Tartosan mother and an Ekhkarean father.

The expert adds:

"The royal wedding is a state occasion, since Anya is heir to the throne. Usually, state occasions are shouldered by the state, the public. But perhaps in an attempt to appease everyone and to not encourage more drama and controversy, the royals were cornered into saying something."

But it's apparently not a big deal for The Queen, Prince Jacques, and Gus. The Queen, in her own right, has a massive fortune which includes castles, palaces, estates and at least two whole villages that she privately owns as part of her inheritance from her late father. Similarly, Prince Jacques also got a bucketload of cash and properties when from his parents, the late King and Queen of Rennaux. As for Gus, he's not really hard up on cash either, and he can very well pay for the whole wedding himself if he wanted to.

The royal wedding, apart from not taking money from the public, is actually expected to rake in at least a billion Simoleons for the Brindleton economy. Immediately after the engagement was announced, hotels started filling up and flights to Brindleton on the days leading up to the wedding have become quite the commodity. Locally, Anya and Gus' photos are everywhere and royal wedding memorabilia are selling like hotcakes.

Here's hoping that this settles all that nasty crap about how "extravagant" this wedding will be. Of course it'll be extravagant. She's the future Queen, and it IS a "Royal" wedding. What did you expect? That the bride will be wearing a §30 frock from high street?That they'll have a standing buffet and a salad bar at the reception?

Anyway, back to that rumoured new tiara and FIVE gorgeous dresses...

[gold-rhine]

What the guard dogs are for

There are some things you never want to hear your secret years-long crush saying, such as “I’m getting married,” “I think we should stay friends” or “I’m the destroyer of the present order, the one who shall judge all gods, and the foe of humanity.” Wriothesley’s very bad, no good day of trying to unravel conspiracy theories, fumbling a tea party with Chief Justice and learning Teyvat’s ancient history and vishap lore from the leading expert lector.

Genre: angst and misinformation campaign

Characters: Neuvillette\Wriothesley, Enjou

Warnings: sfw in a sense that nothing even remotely sexy happens, but there is dissociation, ptsd episode, brief mention of self-harm, and Enjou doing same thing he does in canon, which is not quite gaslighting? Anyway, let me know if you feel any other warnings need to be added.

Chapters: 1 out of 2. Wordcount: ~8k

With his morning tea, Wriothesley riffled through the reports as usual. Nothing was marked urgent, so he started with the most boring part, - the official ones. The production numbers, coupon consumption statistics, everything is prepared for Neuvillette’s upcoming inspection, which was mostly a formality, but he would want it to go as smoothly as possible. 

Reports from the surface informants. Traveler stirring up a ruckus with the research institute… Well, about time, that pit couldn’t go on forever pretending that massive explosions are just a part of science routine. 

Next, creatures called “vishaps” appeared recently in Erinnyes Forest. These vishaps are apparently a lesser form of dragons, and connected to Liyue vishaps, also lizard-like creatures, though in Liyue they are aligned with geo, not hydro. Non-hostile to humans, aside from one accident. But in that one they fought back against the hunters sent by nobles to capture them as novelty pets. So the only regrettable part was that they didn’t get the nobles, only their lackeys. For shame. 

Next, there are gangs with new lingo going around, which generally was a good thing to pay attention to as they usually ended up in Meropide. Wriothesley frowned, reading the lingo translations, as he suddenly felt old. “Trendy Zaytun Peach” was something he’d got called for taking it up the ass a lot in his days, but now it’s a hip and cool nickname with the youngsters. 

Informal internal reports. Victims of beret society are rehabilitating fine, preparations for the wedding are underway. Good. Albert, a new guy from the shop, is sending him tea. Quite good tea at that. Obviously a bribe attempt, though he didn’t ask for anything as of yet, so it was basically free. Everything was fair in love and bribes as far as Wriothesley was concerned. You could throw everything at the feet of your beloved as to the feet of your targeted bureaucrat, and receive nothing and you would have no claim to complain. Now, the fact he wouldn’t take it into account when making decisions about their proposals, and sometimes would even consider it a negative, was a different matter altogether. 

He perked up reading the last report. There was a new conspiracy, whose agenda was not very clear, as they were more careful than the others, but the gist was something against Neuvillette, so Wriothesley was tracking it for some time. It was hard to get anything concrete though, as they were pretty good at keeping a low profile, but now apparently one of the members by the name of Jacque got into the Fortress on unrelated charges, and he was reportedly not the brightest shank on the block. 

Wriothesley made the arrangements. 

Half an hour later, he happened to stroll by when Jacque was being beaten up by three guys in the shadowy corner. 

“Hey, what’s going on here? Leave him alone!” he said, walking up to them.

“Oh yeah?”, said one of the bullies, turning to him. “Well, make me!”

They were paid double for the pretend fight. It might have been an overkill, usually Wriothesley would go for just scaring them off without combat. Especially because anyone who’s been in the Fortess for some time or had a head on their shoulders would understand that nobody would try to openly fight the Duke outside of the fight club arena. But Jacque was as fresh as they get, allegedly stupid, and it was Wriothesley’s first chance at any info in two whole months, so he decided to make it as impressive as possible.

He went as easy on the guys as he could, they theatrically threw the fight and retreated. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, kneeling next to the guy in the corner and putting his hand on his shoulder for emphasis. 

“Yeah, yeah, I think I’m fine,” Jacque muttered, shaking his head. 

“Why did they attack you?”

“They don’t want me to spread the truth...” Jacque said with heavy emphasis. “But uh, thanks for helping me out.” 

“No need to thank me. I feel bad enough that honest folk like yourself get picked on in MY Fortress. That’s not how I want to run my place, so it’s only natural that I stand up for you.”

It took a moment, but finally the guy gasped.

“Your fortress? Are you… the Duke?”

At least he knew what “Duke” is.

“Yeah,” Wriothesley grinned, turning up the charm. “And allow me to get you a couple of drinks to compensate for the rude welcome you’ve received so far.”

He got them to the Coupon Cafeteria, where best meals were already arranged, and generously poured alcohol into the poor guy, listening to the story of his life and misfortunes that brought him to the Fortress, nodding empathetically. He didn’t ask about Neuvillette at all, to not spook the target, trusting that he will come to this anyway, and finally his patience was rewarded. 

“You know, you’re good!” the guy said drunkenly after some time, clasping his hand on Wriothesley's shoulder, which he beared stoically, grinning with all friendliness in the world. 

“You know, they say we can’t talk to you because you’re bought by that lizard, but I think you’re a good guy. You just don’t know all the facts!”

“Which are?”

The guy leaned closer to him and lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper. “Neuvillette is an evil dragon!”

Wriothesley choked on a laughter, which was way too obvious to turn into cough even for the dunce this stupid. 

“No, you don't understand! Dragons were enemies of humanity that Celestia conquered. But they come back when killed! They reincarnate! He is a hydro dragon who was reborn in a human form so he could more easily trick us!”

Wriothesley blinked, remembering Neuvillette standing under the rain, and the old children’s song. “Hydro dragon, Hydro dragon, don’t cry….”

“He put our rightful archon Furina on that trial, right? No one else saw the verdict, so he pretended she was declared guilty. He forced her to abdicate and took the power for himself!”

Wriothesley realized long ago that Neuvilette, of course, was not human. It was clear to any idiot who talked to him for longer than a minute in an informal setting, not to mention a lifespan of at least five hundred years. But there were a lot of options other than “evil dragon”. There were old gods who did not receive archonhood, but instead decided to serve the archon, like Liyue’s adepti, and he always assumed Neuvillette was of the same kind. But the idea that Iudex was some kind of evil monster with a grudge against humanity was ridiculous. Especially when he showed up at the Fortress and saved the entire Fountaine and Wriothesley’s own hide from the flood.

“Really?”

“Yeah! We should restore our true archon Furina to her rightful throne!”

Furina’s insurrection? Interesting. Wouldn’t peg her for someone capable of this type of conspiracy.

“And did Furina herself give us her blessing?”

“She can’t speak publicly, as this monster threatens her.”

Hmm, inconclusive on Furina’s involvement.

He spent more time with the drunk Jacque, trying to get more details, but couldn’t get much more than unhinged ramblings on how evil the dragons are and how insidious it was for a dragon to pretend to be a human. He had to leave to prepare to Neuvillette's arrival the next day.

_____

Neuvillette stepped out of Opera Epiclese into the rain and slowed down his pace to prolong the sensation. It was a bit of what humans called guilty pleasure, as he felt guilty from inflicting rain on humans for his own pleasure. Though from his understanding, humans felt guilty because they saw this pleasure as something bad for themselves. Even if often this supposed harm made no sense to Neuvillette. Eating too much food until a human's stomach hurt was at least understandable to see as such, but he heard one of palais’ secretaries say that romance novels were her guilty pleasure. How could humans feel guilty for something as simple as reading? He stopped and asked her why she would feel guilty for reading, because melusines kept telling him that socializing with humans is very easy, you just need to ask them questions about themselves and let them talk about what they like. Well, it didn’t seem to work, as the secretary stumbled, started hyperventilating and emanated levels of panic and anxiety comparable to someone in the defendant’s chair. Sensing human emotions did not actually help Neuvillette in communicating with them, as he could not discern the reasons. He asked her if she perhaps came into possession of any cursed texts? He could generally sense the stench of corruption and there was nothing on her, but there was always a possibility that it was a curse he could not register. She panicked even more and vehemently denied. At this point he decided to give up on socializing, as it was obviously very distressing for humans, but felt obliged to tell her that if she ever did read anything she felt was cursed, to inform him. He hoped it would assuage her fear of reading. She thanked him, stuttering, and after that day avoided him at all costs. 

The rain was a compromise solution in any case. Neuvillette always felt a bit strained and uncomfortable in his body, but after obtaining full dragonhood and most of the memories of past lives, the human shape felt downright stifling. He now remembered thousands of years of being something much bigger, long coils that could easily crush the spire of Opera Epiclese. Now, when he looked at his own reflection, it was hard to comprehend that this small and ridiculous frame was actually him. In addition, all of his memories and instincts called him to be submerged in water. But even with his poor understanding of humans, he realized that seeing the Iudex floating in the river would alarm humans much more than him standing under the rain. So rain was the closest solution he could get at his position. 

He summoned rain instinctively, to be as close to engulfed in water as possible. It was a bit embarrassing that even humans noticed it and composed a rhyme, even if that rhyme was inaccurate. He didn’t cry, as vishaps didn’t cry at all and even his current human shaped body didn’t have tear ducts. The closest he could pinpoint to human experience, as he understood it, was being stressed and desire to be comforted, for which water was his best remedy.

And currently he was quite stressed, looking over the Fontaine laws in an attempt to revise them. The current system that treated justice as theater was clearly imperfect, which he realized long ago. But he never saw himself as authorized to change it, as humans were the responsibility of the archon and even without it, he was well aware he didn’t understand humans, so he knew it wasn’t his place to question the human justice system, to which he was only a temporary guest. But now, as fontanias became part of Teyvat after his decision, and so, a part of his responsibility as Teyvat’s god of life, even if the usurper tried to deny him, he couldn’t ignore the need for change any longer. The problem was that he did not understand humans any better, so it was very stressful to try and restructure their systems of governance. 

He extended a hand, catching raindrops on his palm, when he noticed a silhouette near the elevator to the Fortress, and stopped himself from visibly controlling the weather. 

Wriothesley caught his eyes and grinned, approaching him at brisk pace, umbrella over his head.

“Greetings, Monsieur.”

“Good morning, Your Grace.”

Wriothesley always somehow managed to make a “Monsieur” sound more impactful than Neuvillette could “Your Grace”, despite one being a noble title and another just a polite greeting. 

“Would you like to…?” Wriothesley extended his arm with an umbrella, without actually covering Neuvillette with it. In the past, as a part of playing a role of “normal human”, Neuvillette accepted such offers, though there were not many aside from Wriothesley who dared to approach him with it. But now, as he was a full-fledged dragon, at the height of his power and influence in this land, surely he could afford to discard this role? Surely he could afford to be himself at least in this?

“No, thank you,” he said, smiling and trying to sound as cordial as possible, so that Wriothesley would not think it was a slight against him personally. “Don’t take it as offense, but I actually like being under the rain.”

The Duke smiled back, shaking his head.

“No offense taken, but why didn’t you say it last time? I felt like an idiot forcing you under an umbrella.”

“Really?” Neuvillette perked up, falling in step with the human. “You could tell that I…”

“Hated it? Yeah, for sure.”

“....prefered not to have an umbrella.”

Wriothesley let out a low, guttural bark of laughter that somehow got to the dragon despite him not being interested in humans in general.

“Not only I could tell I disturbed you, but I had to walk on the flowerbed to get to you, and then I trailed dirt in the Palais while everyone here glared at me for the audacity. Meanwhile you walked on the same dirt, but stayed pristine!”

“I’m sorry for…”

“Hey, don’t apologize. I’m just kidding, don’t worry.”

Neuvillette met the greyish blue eyes of thawed ice directly and sensed that he was truly not bothered, which didn’t make much sense. But Wriothesley was one of the very few humans who was not scared in the dragon’s presence. He was, probably, the only one who emanated only positive emotions at their meetings. Neuvillette mostly encountered negative reactions in his daily life at the trials, so he could not tell apart which positive feelings exactly that he read from Wriothesley due to the lack of exposure. But perhaps…

“I wouldn’t want you to feel unwelcome at the Palais,” Neuvillette said after a short pause.

Wriothesley grinned with a careless shrug.

“Then I will be there, even if the rest of your bureaucrats make faces. As I said, don’t worry.”

Neuvilette frowned, but didn’t see much point in pressing this further. After a confrontation with Navia, the dragon realized that his lack of understanding of humans hindered him, instead of making him truly impartial. Especially now that he was de facto in charge of the entire Fontaine government. And practice showed that only direct interaction with humans could give valuable experience, as watching from the Iudex seat did not allow him a nuanced understanding. 

So perhaps, if Wriothesley was a rare human who was not scared of him, and he proved rational and trustworthy in the years they knew each other, Neuvillette could confide in his true nature and maybe ask for advice in understanding humanity?

“Perhaps staying for some tea would make up for this past offense?”

Wriothesley stumbled for a moment.

“Seriously?” He sounded as casual and ironic as usual, but the surprised burst of positive emotions from him was bright and obvious. “After all these years you finally decided to deign my humble office with your presence?”

“It’d be a completely unofficial visit, of course.”

“Sure, sure. It was never my secret plot to bribe you with a tea party, trust me, even I realize my tea is not that good.”

His voice was ironic, but for a moment Neuvillette could see his crooked grin turn into a genuine smile. So, reassured that he was not imposing, Iudex nodded and followed the human into the Fortress’ entrance.

_________

The inspection itself was mostly a formality. The Court of Fontaine technically had no direct authority over Meripode, but it provided guards and substantial resources, and so it had a right to oversee the use of these assets. The actual budgeting was done on the regular in behind the scenes reports though, as the data was not visible in the in person visit. Still, it was a time honored tradition that got Neuvilette to show up regularly.

“Take a seat. It will take me a minute to make tea.”

Neuvilette gracefully sat down on the visitor’s chair In Wriothesley office, folding his hands on the cane. He still sat with a ramrod straight back and perfect posture, but there was a certain lightness to him today, which was hard to put into words. 

“The inspection is over, yet you are still nervous.”

Wriothesley knew he had a poker face good enough to cover it, yet Neuvillette saw it anyway. He had theorized for a long time that the Iudex could sense emotions, but usually he would not acknowledge it directly like this. “I wasn't nervous about the inspection to begin with. But inviting a high and mighty Iudex himself to the tea for years and then disappointing him when he finally accepts would be a devastating faux de pas. They will mock me on the first pages of all the papers tomorrow.”

Neuvillette frowned slightly.

“I must underline that I’m not here in any official capacity, and I would hope I’m talking to Wriothesley, not the Warden or the Duke. If you agree, I would ask that we leave the titles at the door.”

“No, of course,” Wriothesley, who had fantasized about leaving titles at the door and then clothes on the floor for actual years, said quickly, frantically recalculating how he could turn the tea party to wine tasting, which best wines he had confiscated in his storage and how he could make turning on the gramophone and then maybe leaning against the edge of the table in front of Neuvillette look natural and smooth. “Absolutely. I was just joking anyway, don’t mind it.”

“Ah, I see. I apologize, I’m unfortunately prone to missing humorous intent, so I appreciate your clarification.”

With how far the Iudex went out of his way to assure people of his good intentions in informal situations, Wriothesley really didn’t understand how everyone found him so intimidating. Especially because he very often had to interact with assholes in positions of power who did try to intimidate him on purpose and the contrast was very apparent. Neuvillette projected an aura of power without really wanting to, and then tried to over-explain himself to make others feel at ease. His earnest awkwardness was something like the clumsiness of a huge beast like an elephant trying not to step on the gaggle of kittens at his feet.

“In any case, there is nothing to be nervous about. After all, tea is liquid, and it’s really hard to make liquids unpleasant. So far I think only Fonta truly managed it.” Neuvillette drummed his fingers on the table and glanced at Wriothesley. “To be frank, if crimes against water could be prosecuted, Fonta would receive life in prison.”

Wriothesley snorted. “So no sugar in your tea, I take it?”

“No, thank you,” Iudex said politely and then, after a short pause, “And to clarify, I was not serious. There is nothing wrong with people liking sugary drinks, of course. I was just making an attempt at a joke.”

He really was horrendously bad at pretending to be a human. How could anyone hear him talk and still believe he’s a scheming manipulator was beyond ridiculous.

“No, I got it. It was a good joke,” The Duke grinned, placing a teacup in front of Neuvillette and sitting down across the table with his own.

Neuvillette gave him a graceful nod with a little smile and picked up his cup, giving it a swirl before tasting.

“Hmm. Interesting. Poignant. Bitter,” he said thoughtfully, tilting his head. 

Wriothesley was about to mention that this sort was not usually bitter, but Iudex continued. 

“Not by nature, but forced by circumstances. Not nearly enough water to be nourished, so it had to adapt and conserve strength, letting leaves seen as unimportant to die and concentrate on survival of the main branches. But there is not just hunger… there is a dream of rain. An ache of something not ever known, but yearned, longed for, without realizing what it is. But then…” Neuvillette closed his eyes for a moment. “It happened. There is a memory of luminous joy of water not gathered by mere drops, but drank in full, overwhelming, a feast after a life of fighting for scraps of morning dew. It had tasted rain at least once in the end.”

Wriothesley put his own cup down, leaning forward in disbelief.

“No way. This was a harvest from a drought year and it’s normally a mild sort, considered unusually strong in this season. How could you know this? Are you cheating?”

“You’re welcome to test me with other samples,” Neuvillette said with an air of a magnanimous ruler granting a boon and put the teacup down with a delicate clink. 

“Oh, I’m taking you up on your word, trust me,” the Duke grinned, but then paused. He didn’t want to spoil the mood, but he remembered how strongly Neuvillette felt about the perceived melusines conspiracy. Wriothesley had to tell him about the evil dragon idiots just to make sure he’s not thrown off balance later. That’s what the guard dogs are for, after all.

“Actually, before we move forward with testing your psychic tea reading abilities, there is something concerning official business that I think you should know. And then we can forget it completely.”

Neuvillette inclined his head with a small smile.

“There is a small group of conspirators, - and I must reiterate, it’s very small - who operate on the ridiculous idea that… uh, that you’re some kind of an evil dragon who schemed to overthrow Furina.”

Neuvillette's smile froze.

“You don’t have to worry about it, really. It’s negligibly small, and well, anyone with a working brain would not believe that you’re a monster in disguise.”

Iudex was silent for some time, not meeting Wriothesley’s eyes.

“Are melusines implicated in this?” he said finally.

“No. No, there’s no connection to them in this stupid theory.”

“Good. That's good. They do love living with humans so much.”

Wriothesley suspected that Iudex was taking things kind of out of proportion again.

“Listen, it’s really nothing…”

“No, no, I understand. It would be so unacceptably horrifying for humans to learn their ruler is a… monster.”

Neuvillette's voice wavered, but his face was impartial, strict, previous lightness gone completely. Wriothesley saw his hands tighten their grip on the handle of his cane a moment before he abruptly stood up.

“I must apologize for impropriety, but I have important business in the Palais which was inappropriate for me to neglect for so long. I must beg your leave to depart.”

Wriothesley stood up too, scraping to understand what he did wrong.

“Wait, it’s not…”

“Thank you for your time, Your Grace.”

Wriothesley shut his mouth, the title feeling like a slap for the first time in his life. The formality and politeness somehow only made it worse. He took a deep breath and willed himself to sound calm.

“I hope you have a nice evening, Monsieur Iudex.”

Neuvillette left in what for his usual dignified pace could be considered a hurry. Wriothesley followed him without being seen, partly to make sure he doesn’t get bothered by inmates and partly on an instinct to investigate. 

At the Fortress’ entrance, he watched Neuvillette walk under the rain, lifting his head upward. The blue strands of his long hair glowed and so did his coat-tails. They extended, shining brilliant bioluminescent blue, trailing behind the Chief Justice, in a moment looking like fish’s fins, then the next - as colossal snake’s coils. Sea waves crashed against the ridge without any wind, rising high, reaching to a lonely glowing figure of Iudex. With bated breath, Wriothesley watched Neuvillette extend a hand, as if catching raindrops - and rain stopped mid-flight in the air, lingering over his palm, waves frozen cresting over the earth. The raindrops gathered in a shuddering spheres, and then stretched upwards, against all laws of gravity.  Wriothesley’s heart skipped a beat as Neuvillette closed his fist and the rain flew backwards to the skies.

Wriothesley stormed back into his office and frantically searched through the reports, pages flying about, until he found the one about vishaps. He looked at the photos, seeing similarities he would never look for before. The dark blue color of vishap’s hide was nearly identical to Neuvillette’s attire, but that was small beans, easily written off as coincidence. Their eyes, bright magenta with white vertical slice of a pupil, resembled Iudex, but there was room for debate, as his eyes were much paler, lilac merging into gentle blue instead of a bright pink, even as white vertical pupil was so similar. What really struck Wriothesley after all this, was actually the little blue feather at the side of the head of both vishaps and Neuvillette. It was identical and looked so… deliberate. It had to be chosen and placed precisely like this. 

Still, this was not enough. He needed more evidence. He needed… he needed answers.

He walked to Jacque's block as quickly as he could without alarming inmates, but when he got to the conspirator’s room, Jacque was sleeping on the bed and a man was sitting on the chair next to him, reading a book. He looked up when Wriothesley walked in and stood up, clumsily dropping the book. He was tall and gangly, had dark hair, Inazuman features and light brown eyes behind the glasses. 

“Who are you?” Wriothesley was really not in the mood for playing games.

“Well, my organization caught wind that you are interested in learning some… historical information, and our poor Jacque is really not the best source, which is why I’m here to answer any questions you have,” the man gave him a groveling smile. “You can call me Enjou.”

“Not here. In my office. Follow me.”

When they got there, Enjou whistled musingly.

“Uh, what a nice office! Must be a pretty sweet gig. I wish I had an office instead of slinking in dump ruins all the time.” He sighed theatrically. “So, I assume your main questions are on the vishap situation. I…”

“Wait,” Wriothesley said, walking up to one of his wall cabinets. “You can’t expect me to just believe you on your word.”

“Oh, of course, of course! You’re free to rough me up a bit first. Maybe a little bit of torture? But only a little bit, I’ve got a glass jaw, haha!”

Wriothesley didn’t live so long as an undisputed champion of fight club to not recognize a freak who gets off on pain. He grimaced, walking up to the table where Enjou was already trying to rifle through the papers. He stopped with an apologetic grin and put his hands up. Wriothesley put a glass vial on the table.

“Drink.”

Enjou raised his eyebrows.

“Are we dining and wining first or?...”

“It’s a truth serum,” it was a secret project of the Sumeru Akademiya, before the sages were overthrown. Dendro Archon reportedly could read the thoughts of people, and sages were trying to replicate the effect at least partially. Wriothesley came into possession of it after using his network to get the sages connected to the needed people in Fontaine institute, as Fontaine was at the cutting edge of mech technology and the sages were apparently building an artificial god. Didn’t pan out for them, but the serum worked. Wriothesley was sure of it, because he tried it on himself first.

“Oh! How exciting! How does it work? Will it perhaps burn my insides in agonizing pain if I lie?”

“Drink,” Wriothesley said through gritted teeth.

Enjou smiled and drank the vial in one shot.

“Well, nothing is burning so far, but the evening is young, haha,” he said, smacking his lips.

Wriothesley took a deep breath.

“Why are you here?”

“Huh? What do you mean? To explain the history to you, as I said.”

“Because of the goodness of your heart? What’s your agenda? Your goal?”

Enhou cleared his throat.

“Well, first of all, I do believe in uncovering and spreading so-called “forbidden” knowledge. But with your particular case can you really question my agenda? I didn’t come to you first. You were the one who sought us out. I didn’t even want to be here! I was doing my own thing without knowing about you, to be honest! But, well, I am in an organization with some unfortunate morons who thought that recruiting a convenient idiot and then sending him into underworld prison to make sure he isn’t heard is a great plan. And then when the Warden takes note of the idiot and gets him to blabber, these same morons go, Enjou, you have to get there, because you’re a vishap expert! Ugh.” 

Enjou shook his head in seemingly sincere frustration.

“But um, yeah, I’m not trying to recruit you or anything. We know how you’ve disposed of House of Hearth agents and how you generally obstruct Fatui’s activity, and we just don't want you to do the same to us. Because we’re not your enemy! So I’m here to provide you with the necessary context to see that.”

Wriothesley drummed his fingers on the table.

“Okay. Start talking about Neuvilette and vishaps.”

“Well, Neuvilette is a Hydro Dragon, that should be obvious. To clarify, Hydro Dragon here means Hydro Dragon Sovereign, because technically all hydro vishaps are hydro dragons. If you didn’t know, which is understandable, as you’re more of a fighter type and not a bookworm like myself, haha, vishaps are primordial elemental creatures, original rulers of this land and mortal foes of humanity. Long before Archons, there were Dragon Sovereigns in charge of each element. Then there was a war with Celestia, specifics of which are not widely known, but we do know that Celestia won, dragons were largely eradicated and the huge chunks of powers of Sovereigns were taken from them and given to the Archons. Hydro Sovereign was killed.” 

Enjou made a dramatic pause, before leaning forward with a grin. “But you see, vishaps reincarnate. Neuvillette is a Hydro Sovereign reborn in a human shape. There was actually an Inazuman prophecy about it, recorded in the Byakuyakoku Collection. That Hydro Dragon will descend in a human form, and it specifically mentions a cane. This really baffles me, to be honest. How could they predict the cane? Why does he even need a cane? Surely not because of any weakness, he’s an immortal dragon, 500 years is very young for him. And the records say when Neuvilette took his position as the Iudex some 400 years ago, he already had a cane. Was he born with it? Like, had he sprung fully formed, with a cane? Did he pick it up as, I don't know, honorary agreement with a prophecy? Or were his fashion choices actually predetermined to the degree that the prophecy knew them millenia ago?”

“Get back on track,” Wriothesley growled.

“Oh, sorry. Hmm, this serum works by forcing you to spell your thoughts out loud, yes? Well, then it’s not my fault I’m even more blabbering than usual!”

Wriothesley clasped his hands together and said slowly, carefully watching Inazuman’s reaction. “Even if he is a hydro sovereign dragon, as you say, this alone does not make him evil, as your conspiracy claims.”

Enjou fixed his glasses. He really had the hands of a bookworm, no work calluses or fighting scars. But there were spots of reddened, peeling skin that looked like burns that didn’t get to fully heal before getting burned again.

“Did you miss the “mortal foe of humanity” bit? But okay, sure. This is Fontaine after all, presumption of innocence and all that. I mean, I can’t read his thoughts to tell you under oath that he’s evil, so don’t take me to court, hehe!” Enjou grinned, clearly pleased at his own joke. “But I can tell what I know and ask some questions. My first question is why, after losing a war and presumably being killed by Celestia, would an ancient dragon god want to serve a servant of Celestia? The Archon, who rules with what is actually his own power? Unless he had some sort of agenda, perhaps? And come to think of it, why would Hydro Archon put a mortal foe of humanity into a position of such institutional power?”

“Are you implying Neuvilette forced Furina to give him the position of Iudex?”

“Well, I wasn’t here!” Enjou raised his hands defensively. “But why else would he become the Iudex?”

“There are higher beings and gods serving archons in other nations. Like Liyue adepti serving Rex Lapis.”

“Morax was known as the prime of the adepti. None of them could compare with him at strength. Same with yokai and Baal in Inazuma, she was the strongest by far. It’s natural that they would accept servitude. But here…” Enjou glanced at Wriothesley with a sly smile. “If you had to make a bet on a direct fight between Neuvillette and Furina, who would you bet on? Come on, I know tales that her own court would not listen to her until the Iudex tapped his cane.”

Wriothesley couldn’t really argue with this. When the Primordial Sea started breaking out, he himself sent for Neuvillette and didn’t even think to ask the actual Archon.

“In that case, why didn’t he just kill her immediately? Why would he play the judge?”

“Well, you see, he would not get his power back from just killing her. It would just pass to the next Archon. No, the Hydro Archon had to destroy her own throne. And running out the ruler requires a long game, as you know very well yourself, You Grace.”

Wriothesley kept a calm face, but something must have given him away, as Enjou grinned predatorily.

“Next set of facts and questions. You know of the infamous Archon trial, of course? When it was revealed that fontanian people are actually oceanids, given human shape by the previous hydro archon, Egeria? And the prophecy of the flood works because Primordial Sea waters dissolve fontanians into their oceanid forms. Well, the flood actually came. Why were fontanians not dissolved?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me that.”

“Hehe, yes. It was because Neuvillette turned them into real humans with his powers of Hydro Sovereign. How generous of him, yeah? The question is, why did it take him so long? It’s been 500 years, and yet fontanians were made human only minutes before the flood.”

Despite a feeble bookworm posturing, there was a shadow of unhinged madness in his eyes, dangerous enough that in any other case Wriothesley would cut contact. But the stakes were too high right now. He needed to get all the information he could out of this lunatic.

“You might also remember that on the same trial it was proven that Furina is not a Hydro Archon. And I can tell you that the actual Archon, Focalors, was in the Oracle machine the whole time. Sorry, I’m not even trying to pronounce that full name, haha!”

The urge to punch this bastard was overwhelming, but Wriothesley kept himself in check, mostly because he could tell he was being baited into it and he didn’t want to give the piece of shit the satisfaction.

“Anyway, Neuvilette had an audience with her right after a trial, and as result she killed herself and gave him power back. You see, Hydro Archon doesn’t have the ability to turn oceanids into real humans. All of you were just… things, playing at being humans,” Enjou said with a smirk that looked more fascinated than mocking. “But Hydro Sovereign, the original god of life, does have the power to do so. And he also, conveniently, has control over the Primordial Sea, which you, Your Grace, already know as he stopped the flood in your own Fortress.”

Wriothesley raised an eyebrow and Enjou smiled with a shrug.

“Again, I was not there! But I do know Hydro Sovereign controls the Primordial Sea, and that there is an entrance to the Sea in the Meripode Fortress. I also know that there was some emergency in the Fortress, where inmates were told to run as close to the surface as possible, and then Monsieur Iudex visited and the disaster was somehow avoided.”

Wriothesley frowned. 

“If he was really a mortal enemy of humanity, why wouldn’t he just let the gates of Meripode break and the flood happen right there and then? We would all be gone and he wouldn’t need to lift a finger. Instead he ran to help when I… when the Fortress called.”

“And what would that achieve? He still wouldn’t get his power back,” Enjou shrugged dismissively and then smiled, almost wistfully. 

“No, you know what I would do if *I* was the Hydro Sovereign with an ability to take human form? And if the Archon who held my power hostage was relatively weak AND had the prophecy involving a flood of the Sea I control? Well, I’d infiltrate human society, take a position of high authority and make sure the humans not only see me as the personification of law and justice, but also respect me more than their own Archon. And when the prophecy deadline is coming up, I’d make sure I have people loyal to me in some key positions. Such as Royal Duelist… and the Warden of the Fortress.”

“He didn’t make me the Warden,” Wriothesley gritted out. 

“No, but he did make you the Duke, didn’t he?” Enjou smirked with a wink. “Our sources say the Court was not thrilled to give the highest noble title to you. And if the Iudex did not throw his own weight behind it, it would have never come to pass. How generous of him.”

It was true, Wriothesley’s own informants reported that the Court loathed to give him a title, let alone as high as the Duke. Neuvillette was the only one who fought for him and fought hard, because usually Iudex’s one word was enough to make a decision, but here the stalemate lasted for two months. They wanted to compromise and give him the viscount, but Iudex wouldn’t budge, so in the end, they caved.

Wriothesley never asked Neuvillette for the title. Neuvillette never mentioned what he did for the Warden and never dropped anything even as close as a hint of asking anything in return.

Unless you see it as a part of centuries long game, where mundane favors didn’t matter, but being called first to the access of the Primordial Sea did.

“Ah, you’re starting to get it, don’t you?” Enjou sensed blood in the water, like a proper shark would. “Then I would orchestrate a public court hearing to absolutely discredit the current ruler and corner the actual Archon. And when Focalors is forced to talk to me…. I would make a bargain. Saving the lives of all fontanians in exchange of getting my full power back and Focalors dying. Isn't it ironic that the dragon playing human was the one to turn human-shaped water things into actual humans?"

Enjou leaned back against his chair, grinning with satisfaction.

“And then I’d have an entire country loyal to me as a ruler, which would make a great foothold to use for attacking Celestia.”

Wriothesley took a deep breath.

“You really expect me to take you on your word? You might believe it yourself, which will pass the truth serum, but the word of a lunatic is not evidence.”

“Oh, of course not! I would never expect you to take my lowly word for it. Instead, why don’t you take Monsieur Iudex’s word?”

Enjou made a dramatic gesture of spilling a heap of conches onto the table. Wriothesley raised his eyebrows, when the other man poked one of them awkwardly.

“Now that I have reclaimed one of the Seven Authorities from the hands of the usurpers, I have regained my true form,” a calm voice that was undoubtedly Neuvillette, said out of nowhere. “I am now a fully fledged dragon, powerful enough to judge the rest of the gods. My final destiny is to judge the Usurper-King in the heavens above.”

“This could be faked,” Wriothesley said automatically, just to argue, but his heart already fell.

“You wound me! These are his words, and I spent an entire night fishing them out for you, I’ll have you know. It’s quite hard to capture this. You’re welcome to listen to all of them and see for yourself.”

Almost against his will, Wriothesley reached out and touched one of the conches.

“…I shall fulfill my vow to judge all of The Seven in turn, even if the sky should fall and the ground give way.”

Wriothesley took an abrupt breath through his teeth. Enjou sighed and stood up.

“I think it’s better for you to listen to this alone. After, you’re welcome to reach out to us, but please don’t make any hasty decisions. I’ll see you soon, Your Grace!”

Enjou walked down the stairs, and by the time Wriothesley got to them, there was no one there. The Duke couldn’t bring himself to focus on that though. Instead, he walked up to one of the wall cabinets and took out a bottle of whiskey he was saving up as a possible gift.

He didn’t bother with the glass. He fell down into the chair in front of the conches and clenched his fingers on the bottle, icy veins springing up from under them. He took a sip and touched another conch.

“…my grievances with the usurpers have yet to be settled... They owe a debt of blood that shall not be forgotten.”

He drank, staring blindly into the distance, and listened, and the quiet words burned worse than whiskey sliding down his throat. He caught himself on a familiar thought. “This can’t be happening. This is too monstrous.” The same feverish thoughts he had when he discovered the truth about his foster parents.

As if by now he shouldn’t have learned that nothing is too monstrous in this world.

“As a survivor of the dragon race who has regained my full dragonhood, I must fulfill my oath and obligations even if it means returning all the water in the oceans back to the heavens.”

It really did sound exactly like Neuvillette. Wriothesley tried to find the lie, something that sounded fake, but not only the voice, but the cadence and word choice fit. And it sounded calm, impartial as usual too. And then there were hydro vishaps appearing in Erinnyes…

Fuck, was it really that easy to fool him? Was he really this big of a fool? He learned to distrust sweet words and warm smiles, and he was so sure that he wouldn’t get caught in the same lies ever again, even if he sacrificed his ability to love for this. But all it took was a seeming opposite, direct and harsh, too cold and intimidating to appear manipulative, but endearingly awkward just sometimes, just enough to make him believe that… That there was something true and clear in this rotten world. That he could trust in *someone*.

“Nothing will stop me from rendering judgment on each of The Seven.” 

He went through all of the recordings, frantically at first, wanting to find contradictions, then, when none were found, numbly re-listening to the few that hit the worst.

“…also the destroyer of the present order, the one who shall judge all gods, and the foe of humanity. “

Wasn’t it too obvious in hindsight? Why would the Iudex stake his own reputation on Wriothesley’s title? How could you not see it coming? Oh, because you thought you “deserve” it for turning this dog-fighting pit of a prison into something with a modicum of fairness? Because you thought he recognized your redemption? Gods, what are you, fucking fourteen again, did you learn nothing, why would anyone ever care about you, you naive goddamn idiot?

Soon, the bottle was somehow almost done. At this point he was running one recording on repeat, mindless and purposeless except for repeating slashes of pain, familiar rhythm like the knife on his wrists years ago.

"Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don't cry." Whoever had penned that rhyme, as well as the Fontainians who came to believe in it, must not have known the Hydro Dragon all that well, considering that they thought the Hydro Dragon could cry. What did they take said Dragon for, some sort of bleeding heart who grieved for humans and the heavens alike?”

If this was true… If this was true, then Wriothesley didn’t just get fooled himself. Then he helped a monster take control of the country and potentially use it in war against heavens. 

He clenched his hand and it took him a moment to realize he broke the bottle he was holding in it. That pain from glass pieces in his palm felt small and distant now. But at last, it spurned him into action.

If this was true, he only had one shot. He’d already told Neuvillette of the dragon conspiracy, like a good little idiot eager to please. And any tyrant worth his salt would make sure to take him out after his, especially now that he outlived his purpose in giving access to Meripode vaults. He might have some time because of how oblivious he was, dismissing the conspiracy openly, but it couldn’t be long. 

He couldn’t take his time. He couldn’t hope for the better. He had to act like it’s the worst option possible. More than anything, he needed to confront Neuvillette, dragon Sovereign or not. He had to fix this, no matter the cost.

He realized he needed leverage. Brute strength was out of the question. Even before the flood, Neuvillette absolutely destroyed Fatui Harbinger in one flash, quicker than anyone in the audience could see what happened. Wriothesley would put himself against Harbringer with no hesitation, but he wasn’t an idiot. If this was how powerful Iudex was before, then after allegedly gaining his full power, there was no way Wriothesley could threaten him. No, he needed something else.

He took out the paper and wrote a note, taking care to not stain it with blood. Fortunately, he held the bottle in his left hand, so he could keep it out of the way.

“....and so confess that I, Wriothesley, Warden of the Fortress of Meripode, killed Chief Justice, Iudex Neuvillette.”

He finished the note and carefully put in his signature, then folded the paper into an envelope and closed it with his personal seal. Then he walked up to a safe, one of the hidden ones, and punched in a code. When the safe opened, he rummaged in it for a moment, until finally taking out two vials.

This was sold to him as the poison that could kill a god.

[pinkgy]

Belphegor Theory

Ok, so I might and might have not spent about two hours doing some research about Belphegor because that "Halo" of his has me questioning a lot of things, and this is what I came up with, but extremely summarized.

I'm most definitely no expert on the topics I'm about to talk about, I just dug a bit too deep into the internet and got some interesting things, I would like to know if I'm wrong and I would love to read opinions about this.

I got the information from looooots of sources, and credit to all of them.

So, we know that What in Hell is Bad is heavily inspired by biblical concepts, the Seven Deadly Sins are from Christianity, the Seraphims are mentioned in Christian, Islamic, and Jewish Literature, and pretty much all of the nobles are from the Ars Goetia, and many of them are associated with Christian Demonology.

The game also has many references to other religions and beliefs, but if I were to make a list of all those references, I'd be here writing for days.

Let's dig a bit into who is Belphegor outside the game.

Belphegor is referenced in both Jewish and Christian traditions, he originates from the Moabites, a very ancient tribe that habited the region of Moab, an ancient Levantine kingdom. Belphegor is originally the Moabite god Baal-Peor, who was associated with fertility, sexual power, and orgies, then he was absorbed into Hebrew mythology and later into Christian demonology.

In Christian Demonology, Belphegor is one of the seven princes of hell, and he represents the deadly sin of Sloth. He is also associated with laziness, apathy, and negligence and his name means "Lord of the Opening"

Belphegor is physically described in many ways, a very interesting fact is that in the Dictionnaire Infernal, a book written by Jacques Auguste Simon Collin de Plancy that summed up, is an illustrated version of the demonology, he is described as always having his mouth open, and the hand placement he has in the banner that Prettybusy recently released could be making a reference to that.

(Another interesting fact is that he's said to be hard to conjure because his sacrificial offering is excrement, but I prefer to ignore that)

Belphegor is also referenced in the Kabbalah, which is like a philosophy, or to be more precise, an esoteric method, discipline, and school of thought in Jewish mysticism that deals with the essence of God and the universe (I just copy&pasted this, it's a bit hard to explain, srry)

In the Kabbalah, guess what Belphegor is.

A fallen angel.

To be more precise, he was an angel in the order of the principalities.

Belphegor is known to be an enemy to the sixth sephiroth and the archdemon (or the leader) of the Togarini, they are the demonic counterparts to the angels that rule over the 10 Sephirot of the Tree of Life.

For context, the Sephirot are the ten emanations or attributes of God in Kabbalah.

I also read that some demons under the Togarini are Lilith, Samael, and Thaumiel, but there's very little information about that so I'm not going to use this as a fact.

The reason why he fell from grace is not explicitly mentioned, but it's somewhat implied that it was related to his association with the sixth Sephirah "Beauty" and the fact that he is depicted as a demon who tempts individuals with ingenious inventions, wealth, and discoveries (I also copy&pasted this)

It's also said that he rules over seduction, promiscuous men, and MISOGYNY.

I'm not sure if there are references from the Kabbalah in What in Hell is Bad, but if there were, it would be super interesting, as I said in the beginning, the game has a lot of references from various religions and beliefs, I would love to make a separate post about that just because I may have way too much free time to investigate that.

Or maybe I just spent 2 whole hours writing almost 700 words about a ton shit of things I barely know anything about and creating a theory just because of a black circle above a fictional character's head that it's probably just a horn just like @thrones-of-buer said on a post.

(I still have some doubts about that because it seems like in the new illustration that pb released of him today he has a unicorn horn just like Beelzebub, but I could be wrong)

This is just a theory tho, I'm most likely wrong, but I thought it would be interesting to share this with y'all :D

Sorry if there are any typos, I'm reaaally sleepy right now.

[mariacallous]

On a sunny Wednesday in Paris, the city’s mayor inches down a ladder into the blue-brown water of the river Seine, one cautious step at a time. After a few seconds, once Anne Hidalgo’s wet suit is completely submerged, she dons small dark goggles and dunks her face underwater—proving to the photographers and TV cameras following her by boat that she believes this water is clean.

This is a historic moment for Paris, which many people believed was not going to happen. Swimming in the Seine has been banned for the past century, and a river clean enough for a political photo op has long been an ambition among French lawmakers.

This cleanup operation has become the centerpiece of what Paris is calling “the Greenest Ever Games,” and the legacy of this effort is expected to last. After Hidalgo dries off, the Seine will stage several Olympic swimming events; three public bathing areas will open in the Games’ aftermath.

But the €1.4 billion ($1.5 billion) cleanup operation is not really about swimming. The ability to bathe in the Seine is simply a sideshow—payback to Parisians for the use of massive public funds to complete such an ambitious river restoration project. Instead, the real goal is to protect a source of drinking water and help life return to the river, so fish—such as the famous Parisian catfish—can continue to thrive.

The promise of swimming is intended to guard against the kind of criticism that pits environmental projects against the needs of ordinary people. Online accounts have already pledged to poop in the Seine en masse under the hashtag #JeChieDansLaSeine, or #IPooInTheSeine, to protest the amount of money spent on the project, as ordinary people struggle with the cost of living. (There is no evidence anyone actually has done this, and whoever set up the original website did not reply to WIRED’s request for comment.)

“Having this totemic goal of swimming in the river is something that really helps politically … because it’s very expensive,” says Caroline Whalley, a water pollution expert at the European Environment Agency. “It's a way to get public support, because they can see the benefit. There's something in it for them.”

The Seine started to die at the onset of the 20th century. For 50 years, raw sewage was released into the river, prompting the city to put an end to idyllic scenes of families cavorting in the water and rule bathing in the water (mostly) illegal from 1923. In the years that followed, the Seine became a grim symbol of industrialization.

“There was no life in the river Seine during these 50 years,” says Jean-Marie Mouchel, a professor at the Sorbonne University, who has been studying the river since the '80s. The sewage sapped the water of oxygen and created obstacles for river traffic. “There was so much sediment and deposits from the sewers that [they created] mountains of deposits on the bottom [of the river],” says Mouchel, “so boats couldn't even pass through.”

It wasn’t until the 1960s that restoring the river began to attract political attention, first with the establishment of the French water agency, and later with a pledge by then mayor of Paris (later Prime Minister) Jacques Chirac. “I will bathe in the Seine in front of witnesses to prove that the Seine has become a clean river,” he declared in 1988, promising to complete the stunt by the early '90s. Chirac, who died in 2019, never did take that public plunge. But his idea would live on in French politics, and the Olympics created a new deadline to complete the cleanup.

Macron has repeated his pledge. “I’ll do it,” he told reporters in March, refusing to be pinned down on a date. Both he and Hidalgo, however, were beaten into the water by sports minister Amélie Oudéa-Castéra, who plunged into the Seine with an ungraceful flop on Saturday. Her office did not reply to WIRED’s questions asking whether she was feeling fine after her swim.

Without the promise of swimming in the Seine, what Parisians get for the $1.5 billion cleanup operation is not immediately obvious. It is not actually possible to clean the river. Instead, the operation is focused on preventing new, raw sewage from entering in the first place. The city cracked down on houseboats and apartments with questionable plumbing, which had been dumping sewage straight into the Seine. Then officials started to tackle the problem being caused by intense rainstorms, which cause water to flow from the street into the city’s drains, swelling the amount of liquid in the sewers underneath. Too much rain means the city has a choice: Either let raw sewage back up through people’s toilets and flood bathrooms across the capital, or release untreated waste into the river to create space, regardless of the consequences.

To prevent this from happening, Paris built a giant storage tank near Austerlitz metro station, capable of holding 20 Olympic swimming pools of dirty water. “The idea of this is to be a buffer, so when it rains a lot, instead of the sewage network immediately overflowing, we have a basin that fills up,” says Dan Angelescu, founder and CEO of Fluidion, a company that tracks levels of E. coli in the Seine and had worked with the city on the cleanup project until last year. The basin created a “drastic” improvement of the water quality during small amounts of rain, says Angelescu, yet a rainstorm last week still caused levels of E. coli to peak above the level of 1,000 E. coli per 100 milliliters considered safe for the Olympics. “There is a limit to everything,” says Angelescu when asked about the basin’s effectiveness.

Recent heavy downpours have created lingering uncertainty around whether the Seine will be judged ready in time for the Games, and if it is, whether swimmers will be able to descend into the water without getting sick. Hidalgo may already have taken the plunge, but the real guinea pigs will be the Olympic athletes signed up to take part in the open water and triathlon events scheduled in the Seine, as long as the water analysis comes back safe.

Among them is a slightly nervous Daniel Wiffen, a world record holder who is set to compete in the Seine, representing Ireland. Paris will be the 23-year-old’s first “big race” in open waters, and he is worried about the water quality. “It’s a big issue,” he says. Ideally, he’d like to take a trial run in the Seine to better understand the currents, and he’s been asking fellow athletes whether they think it’s worth the gamble. “Do you risk two days before your race, getting in the Seine and getting ill the day before your race?” he says.

Yet he’s still hoping the race goes ahead. The idea of swimming in the iconic Paris river spurred him to sign up. “I want to swim beside the Eiffel Tower,” he told WIRED. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

[supremechancellorrex]

As the name suggests, the World Wars involved the world. People from all over served, and this includes people from African and Carribbean countries, yet I feel they are not so well-remembered in media and the history books for their heroics and sacrifices. Here are a few icons among many below.

Eugene Bullard

Eugene Jacques Bullard (1895-1961) was one of the first black American pilots and served in the French air force’s Lafayette Flying Corps, an all-American volunteer outfit, in World War 1. Meanwhile, in World War 2, Eugene Bullard served as a spy for France, where he also proved highly successful against the Nazi regime. Bullard was fluent in English, German and French, as well as a boxer and self-taught Jazz musician.

Eugene Bullard was awarded fifteen French war medals: Knight of the Légion d’honneur, Médaille Militaire, Croix de Guerre, Volunteer’s Cross (Croix du combattant volontaire), Wounded Insignia, World War I Commemorative Medal, World War I Victory Medal, Freedom Medal, and the World War II Commemorative Medal.

Walter Tull

Lieutenant Walter Tull (1888 - 1918) was the first British-born black army officer and the first black officer to lead white British troops into battle. He fought on the Somme in 1916 and became the first black combat officer in the British army in spite of a military rule officially excluding "any negro or person of colour” from that position. Before the War, he was a pioneering black football player and the first black outfield player to feature in the English top flight, with two seasons at Tottenham Hotspur.

Sadly, Walter Tull was killed in 1918, during the early German spring offensive, and was never awarded the military cross that he was recommended for.

Johnny Smythe

Born in Sierra Leone, Johnny Smythe (1915 - 1996) successfully made it into RAF aircrew during the Second World War. Smythe trained as a navigator, having a great talent for mathematics. He successfully navigated 26 bombing missions over Germany, although was unfortunately shot down on his 27th mission and captured. Smythe would spent the last two years of the war in Stalag Luft I, an infamous Lufftwaffe-run POW camp, until he was liberated by the Russians in 1945.

In 1948, Johnny Smythe served as the senior officer aboard the Windrush. After pursuing a career in law and working as the Queen's Counsel for Sierra Leone for a number of years, in 1961 he was appointed Solicitor General of the newly independent Republic of Sierra Leone. In 1978, he awarded the Order of the British Empire (OBE) for his outstanding service.

Ulric Cross

Ulric Cross (1917 - 2013) was Trinidadian and one of the most decorated Caribbean airmen in WWII. Joining the RAF at 24, he trained as a navigator and joined 139 Squadron, gaining the nickname ‘The Black Hornet’. Cross was an expert in precision bombing and later joined the ranks of the elite Pathfinder Force, flying high-risk missions into enemy territory as low as 50 feet as opposed to 25,000 like most pilots. While Cross was offered the option to rest after completing 50 missions, he instead volunteered for another 30 missions over enemy territory. At the end of the War, Cross had flown a total of 80 missions.

For his undeniable commitment, hard work and skill, Cross was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross and the Distinguished Service Order.

[feroshgirlsims]

Chapter 3.2 - What Not to Wear

VLAD

It’s Wednesday, two days until his date with Alice, and Vlad is no closer to having something to wear. William volunteered to go shopping, but Vlad declined. He doesn’t have the money to find something that meets his exacting standards, and the salespeople always complain when he tears out the tags before trying anything on. 

It’s honestly a fucking headache. 

He drops his bag by the front door and toes off his boots. His mother hums in the kitchen, frying up something divine. 

He stuffs the simoleons they found on the body the other day into the jar on the counter. Truthfully, the Strauds didn’t lack money; it was just that cleaning it already took a lot of effort, and they didn’t want any unnecessary attention. 

Plus, his mother thinks a lack of simoleons keeps them grounded. “Capitalism rots the brain and erodes free will” is her favorite saying. That and “It doesn’t make much sense to pay when you can steal.”

“You’re home!” she turns and smiles, pulling him into a hug and ruffling his hair. Vlad fidgets but doesn’t fight. “I thought you were eating on campus,” she says when he finally twists out of her grasp.

“William has a study group and the cafeteria is serving macaroni salad. Do you know how long that food has been sitting? Ages. It’d be the perfect cover for a poisoning. I’m surprised I’m alive.”

His mother snorts. “No one would murder you by poisoning a college cafeteria. The likelihood of you getting medical attention before your body gives out is too high. Even fast-acting poisons are slower than you think.”

She would know. Julia Straud is an expert in poisons. It’s an interest of Vlad’s, too. Usually, they talk about it for hours, but today, he isn’t in the mood.

He heads for the couch and collapses, letting the muted feeling that’s been dogging him all week wash over. The high from the brawl with Christopher might’ve carried him, but one punch was nothing to get excited about. Instead, the buzzing under his skin has simply grown when, for once, he’d just like silence.

“Why so sad, my sweet darling?”

Vlad’s eyes flash open. His mother is standing over him, smirking. 

“Is sleeping illegal in this house?” he grumbles, “I didn’t think that was one of the rules.”

“Don’t be disrespectful. You know it’s not,” she shoves at his legs until he sits up. “Why do you look like someone just shit in your oats?”

It isn’t any use keeping secrets, although it’s not expressly against the rules. His mother has a way of hunting down every hidden truth. She couldn’t wrangle their merry band of lunatics otherwise. “I have a date—”

“Oh, my lands—”

“Do not get excited.” He cuts her a sharp look. “It may go nowhere. Your expectations should be in the basement,” Vlad pauses, “Actually, lower than that. Your expectations should be in hell.” 

It’s not that he didn’t understand William’s advice about being a better version of himself. It just seems impossible to follow it. Pretending is fine in short bursts, like when the police are questioning him, but pretending for the sole purpose of getting someone to like him? Even if he could manage it, the whole thing would be so exhausting he’d need a week of sleep to recover. 

And what if Alice was like Fuifui? What if she got confused about who he really was?

“You could buy something you like,” she offers, “Go to one of the fancy boutiques in town where the salespeople peddle temptation to ruin like the devil taught them.”

“It’s called clothing, mother, not ‘temptation to ruin.’ And obviously, that’s not an option. I don’t know why you, of all sims, would suggest that.”

Her eyes narrow, “Because I love you. If you want to buy something to wear on this date, then I will make it happen. By any means necessary.”

It’s not worth it. Holding this territory is hard enough without assholes like Jacques Villareal getting ideas in his head because he thinks Julia's spendthrift son is a weak spot.

“Never mind,” Vlad groans, “And I actually mean it. If I find money under my pillow or in my wallet, I will be fucking pissed.”

PREV | NEXT

(Part 2 of 4)

[lucienballard]

Brigitte Bardot with a Nikon F Camera borrowed from a journalist - 1968. She was an expert #35mm photographer, she knew how to use almost any camera.

Photo by Jacques Héripret.

[olderthannetfic]

I blame social media for ethestic-sising mental health disorders, conditions, illnesses and what have you.

Yeah it's fucking great to be visible and be normalized. But people veered right off from normalizing and visibility to "esthetic goals" and fetishizing. This include internalized fetishism and neuroableism.

Suddenly it's not about living a healthy life, and showing people we exist. Suddenly it's all about what flavor ND of the day you are, and treating being ND and the symptoms like more of a fashion statement, and an esthetic than an inevitable part of being a human being who's ND. Which of course, through making it a fashion trendy thing, all the bad things have to be hidden, and only the marketable and wholesome behaviors gets greenlit, gotta thank the algorithm for that as well as ignorant people. With a big preference being any behavior that benefits others.

The fetishizing, and internalized neuroableism also fucks me up because it goes from being about actual ND people showing our real day to day lives, good and bad, as being just as acceptable as those of NTs, and instead becomes something people try to copy because it looks "fun".

I know fake claiming is really fucking frowned on, but what else should it be called when all of the sudden an ND condition goes trending on social media, and suddenly everyone and their dog has a cool and trendy version of it. Hey this condition is super rare, and some experts aren't even sure it exists in the way we talk about it today? A few months later the next thing comes along, and the very people claiming an ND disorder move on to the next thing.

DW, pre-teen-teen Bethica and Jacques who have shown no signs of any of the conditions and symptoms needed to be diagnosed have now become experts on this topic. Fuck mental health experts, Bethica and Jacques's tiktok history and skimreading wikipedia is much more valid than 10+ years of research in the mental health field. These kids will now educate you about this while doing fancy tiktok dances, and making a complete mockery of the actual condition. Btw, if it just so happens that they have a gofundme or Ko-fi link to pay, ignore that it comes across like the scam that it is, trust me bro, these are 100% the real experts, they're definitely not saying exactly what people wanna hear who wanna pretend to be cool and fashionable by having #ND condition of the month.

--

[mask131]

Let's talk about Purgatory... (1)

Now that Hazbin Hotel is out, it is time to make some thematic posts. And what better way to begin than... the famed Purgatory.

In Hazbin Hotel, Charlie's project - and the titular hotel - is clearly meant to be what has been historically and religiously designated as "purgatory", this famed "third realm" between Heaven and Hell that apparently doesn't exist in the Hellaverse, where there is only a Heaven-Hell duality. The idea of Purgatory has been used a lot by recent media for various effects - from Supernatural's quite unique take on it, to the most recent The Good Place, passing by the viral webtoon Adventures of God.

But let's talk a bit about what Purgatory truly was, and truly has been. For this post I'll mostly rely on the writings of Christine Duthoit, for a dossier she created documenting the afterlifes in the Middle-Ages ; for her Purgatory section she notably took a lot of info from Jacques Le Goff's own study of Purgatory (Le Goff being one of our big medieval experts in France).

So... it is important to remember that the realm of Purgatory (I'm going to place caps to make clear I'm talking about the afterlife-realm) is not something that originally existed in the Christian religion. You had Heaven and Hell, but no real "Purgatory" - it was a medieval invention, in front of the Christians' own anguish when confronted to the idea of an endless damnation. More generally, the Purgatory was needed to try to explain how a God of endless love, mercy and understanding could have a realm such as Hell entirely dedicated to infinite misery and torments until the end of time. The solution to this paradox was the existence of a third issue, a third realm where people that were not bad enough to deserve infinite torture could earn a "second chance" and purify themselves of their sins to reach Heaven: the Purgatory (from the verbs and terms refering to a "purge", or the "purging" of something - in this case, to purge one's sins and evils).

However, just because the Purgatory was "invented" in the Middle-Ages doesn't mean that it doesn't have older roots. Indeed, inspired by the old concept of the Bosom of Abraham (talked about in the Ancient Testament, and then referred to by Jesus in the New Testament), the early Christians believed in a concept called the "refrigerium". The refrigerium, the "freshening" or "refreshening" of the deceased, actually had a dual meaning. At the same time, the refrigerium designated a supposed place, a "fresh" and pleasant realms where the souls awaited for the Last Judgement ; and it also designated the practice and habit of "refreshing" the memory of the dead - for example organizing ritual feasts and commemorative reunions in order to not forget the deceased. This dual belief reflected the remnants of the Roman religion in early Christianity: indeed, the Roman Empire did not actually have any precise or defined belief in any "afterlife" (despite what Latin poets might let you think). The Roman religion, being a religion of ritual rather than of belief, did not care much about any realm beyond death, but rather focused on a series of rituals to honor the memory of the dead (such as the family having meals on their graves regularly) or appease the unresting souls (the famous ghost-hunting rituals against the larvae and the lemurs). This tradition of the ritualistic "memory-keeping" of the dead stayed within early Christianity.

The belief in Purgatory also stems from and is heavily tied to the belief in the Last Judgement and the Resurrection - key features of the Christian religion, the idea that at the end of time God will organize a Final Judgement, the famed Judgement Day, upon all of humanity, after resurrecting all the deceased that ever were. I'm not going to lose myself too much in this complex topic - but the belief of Purgatory also comes from theologians constantly wondering and pondering what happens to the souls between death and Judgement Day, and how the Last Judgement can be "prepared".

As early as the second century, the Greek Fathers of the Church (Clement of Alexandria, or Origen) started talkeing about a "purifying fire" for the souls, but they did not develop much the idea. The Latin Church Fathers, meanwhile (Gregory the Great, Ambrose, Augustine, Jerome) talked about a "second chance" offered after death to those that did not commit very grave or heavy sins, and that consisted in purification trials. But the details were still murky and confused: nobody agreed on what those purifications were, on how long the process took, or on where they took place. But they all agreed on a common point: the idea that the prayers of the living had the power to ease the suffering and the trials of the souls of the dead. Saint Augustine, that is often considered the "father of Purgatory", started the idea that this "purifying fire" in the afterlife could only work on venial sins, and that it was located somewhere between "the death of the Christian and the resurrection of their body" ; the idea was continued by Gregory the Great, whose text Moralia in Job heavily influenced the Purgatory ideas. For those of you not versed in Christian terminology, sins are divided between venial sins and mortal sins (not to be confused with the "deadly sins"). Venial sins are minor, not-so-bad sins, that can be easily forgiven or erased by things such as sincere remorse, penitence and confession ; mortal sins, meanwhile, are grave and serious sins that cannot be fully erased and will lead your soul to Hell.

Between the 7th and the 12th centuries, the religious doctrine and official canon of the Church stayed at a dead end. Theologians, authors and other religious debaters did not dare go further into the whole "Purgatory" debate - they stayed by what the Fathers had said before them, and the debates stayed debates with no real conclusions. However, if the official teachings did not evolve, this era saw a boom in terms of popular imagination. Starting from the monasteries, there was a true wave of imagination and imageries that fed onto the many "pagan remnants" that were everywhere in the societies and beliefs of the Middle-Ages: you had the remnants of the Greco-Roman beliefs, especially the Plato philosophy, and you had all the leftovers of the Celtic and Germanic mythologies, mixed with all the apocalyptic imagery that was VERY popular at the time... And all this mixed together started shaping the Purgatory as we know it today.

For example, in the 8th century or so, in his Ecclesiastical History, Bede collected a story called "Drythelm's vision" (book V, chapter 12). The titular man, Drythelm, had what we would call today a Near-Death-Experience - he entered into a death-like state, then suddenly returned to life. Once "awake", he told of how he had been guided by a shinng person dressed in white to fantastical landscapes East of the world. At first, Drythelm saw a deep valley: one side was burning, the other covered by both a snowstorm and hailstorm, and a ceaseless wind pushed human souls from the burning fire to the freezing ice constantly. Drythelm thought he was in Hell, but his guide rather told him it was not Hell, but a place where the souls of those that were late in confessing their sins or trying to repair their crimes were "examined and punished" - but since before their death they ended up confessing their evils and making penitence, they all earned the right to join Heaven upon Judgement Day. After this sight, Drythelm goes over a high wall, and sees a green, flowery meadow, filled with lovely scents and bright light, where white-dressed people chat with each other. Drythelm thinks he is in Heaven, but the guide once again says no: rather, this place is the realm where the souls of those not perfect enough for Heaven are sent, but they too will earn their right to the "Celestial Kingdom" upon Judgement Day. As such, Drythelm vision doesn't offer a "third realm" between Heaven and Hell, but rather a binary system of temporary places, one of torment and one of waiting.

[I will make a pause here to explain something: The reason why Heaven seems so hard to reach in early Christian texts is actually quite simple. Heaven was not originally made for human souls. Maybe I'll explain this in more details when I'll make posts covering the evolution of Heaven but simply put: originally Heaven was supposed to be the realm of God and angels, and that's it. It was an inhuman realm for inhuman beings. Then, the Church did accept the idea that human souls could go to Heaven: but it was only Saints. Aka, not just any good human souls, but exceptional humans that had risen above their regular condition to become themselves part-divine. The idea that all good souls can go to Heaven is actually a "late" development in the concept of Heaven ; hence why in these early texts we have a lot of talks about how even good human souls are still not "perfect" enough to reach Heaven.]

Now, Drythelm was not a man of the Church - he was your regular guy, so to speak. As such, it is interesting to compare this vision to another "afterlife vision", called the "Wetti Vision", collected by Walafrid Strabon in the 9th century: Wetti being a monk, the vision is much more "religious". The monk Wetti claimed that one day, as he was sick and laying in his room, he saw Satan appear before him, in the shape of a black and ugly Churchman, surrounded by demon and torture-tools. However a group of monks came in to force the demons to flee, and a purple-clad angel suddenly appeared to comfort the sick monk. Awakening, Wetti asked for other monks of his monastery to pray for him, and he read some of the Dialogues of Gregory the Great, before going to sleep again. The angel returned, but this time clad in white, and took Wetti away on a pleasant road, towards high mountains made of marble and surrounded by a river - a river in which people are tormented and tortured, especially bad priests and the women they seduced. The angel then shows Wetti a version of Purgatory - here a twisted and crooked castle on the mountains, made of wood and stone, and where both monks and non-Churchmen have "purgative" torments inflicted upon them - Wetti notably sees here Charlemagne, punished for his sexual life. This text is very interesting because it clearly split Purgatory and Hell - explaining that the torments of Hell are endless and eternal, while those of Purgatory (the mountainous realm) are temporary.

Another vision that was influential is called the "Vision of Charles the Fat", which has in common with the Vision of Wetti to show historical figures of great rulers being tormented in the afterlife, showing even the "greats of this world" cannot escape a moral punishment. The Vision of Charles the Fat notably inspired Dante's own Divine Comedy - but we'll put the details for another time.

So, we have a boom of visions of the afterlife, and of records of strange dreams and NDE visits of "in-between" places that are neither Heaven no Hell. The theologians have to catch up, and to put an end to these endless discussions around unclear and vague doctrines full of holes. Two main questions are brought up: on one side, the "categorization of the souls", on the other, the "geography of the afterlife". To be clear: theologians wonder who can be redeemed, how they can be redeemed, and if Purgatory is truly separate from Hell. Saint Augustine had established a division of souls in four categories: 1) the all-good 2) the all-evil 3) the not-all-good (or "mostly-good") 4) the not-all-evil (or the "mostly evil"). However, theologians couldn't possibly make this four-part classification fit with the trinity that was arising of Heaven-Hell-Purgatory.

A commentator named the "Ambrosiaster" (or "Pseudo-Ambrose) had a HUGE impact on the medieval theologians of the 12th and 13th centuries, because in his study of the first epistle of saint Paul to the Corinthians, he clearly defined three fates after death. All the saints and the justs go to Heaven. All the infidels, all the atheists, all the impious ad apostates go to the "endless Gehenna". But the sinners that "had faith" will undergo trials before reaching Heaven. Under this light, the theologians of the 12th century decided to gather in one category the "not-all-good" and "not-all-evil" souls - those not good enough to go to Heaven and those not bad enough to go to Hell. They became one group known as the "mediocriter", the mediocre souls, and yet despite going to a same place (Purgatory) they had were prepared for a different fate.

The true foundational texts of the Purgatory date from between 1170 and 1200 - and the afterlife thoughts and theories they offer are actually a reflection of the social, political and judiciary evolutions of the time. Indeed, what happens during this era? The Pope's authority becomes much stronger and his power more direct. The feodal system starts crumbling down, replaced by great States. The bourgeoisie starts appearing as a third group between the peasants and the nobility ; the same way that a "third order" appears between churchmen and the secular people. The apocalyptic texts, which had been very influential until now, become secondary sources, while the Song of Songs is pushed forward. As such, the 12th century invites people to discover a restructured world and society, and to think about making justice evolve. People of the era were not satisfied anymore but the Heaven-Hell couple, thought as too simple and too binary. The idea of personal responsability eclipsed the "sins of the community", and it was around this era that judiciary concepts such as "parole", "conditional liberty" and "emission of sentence" were created. Theologians drew a line between the vices (the natural flaws and the evil pulsions within one's soul) and the sins (crimes and evil actions, but that could be done not out of evil intentions, but out of ignorance). It was also around this era that the division between the mortal sins (criminalia capitalia) and the venial sins (parva, quotidiana, minuta) was heavily stressed out - the new afterlife had to reflect the idea that some sins could be forgiven, others not.

In France, two intellectual communities truly theorized the Purgatory between the 12th and 13th centuries. On one side, you had the intellectual Parisian community - especially Notre-Dame, which was as much a cathedral as a school, before its "scholar" functions was moved to the University and the teachers of Franciscan and Dominican orders. Jacques Le Goff did identify the birth of modern Purgatory with the event known as the "scolastic spring", represented by the three Pierres : Pierre le Chantre, Pierre le Mangeur, Pierre Lombard. Pierre le Mangeur (Peter the Eater) was notably one of the first men in France to use the term "purgatorium". The second intellectual domain to build Purgatory was the Cistercian order, whose influence was so great many people consider saint Bernard to have "created" Purgatory - and it is known that the Cistercian order had many ties to the Parisian intellectuals.

To return to the three Pierres, Pierre Lombard in his Sentences explained there were three categories of souls, identical to the one we saw before: one group is of the entirely good and virtuous souls, another is the evil souls, and the third group gathers those that are almost entirely good, and those that are almost entirely bad. Pierre le Chantre rather explicitely describe three afterlife realms, a Heaven-Hell-Purgatory system (and he explicitely uses "purgatorium" to designate the third realm). If we move on to the 13th century, we find many more men talking about Purgatory: the great theologians that were Guillaume of Auverge, Bonaventure, Albert the Great, Thomas Aquinas... But while they speak about it, they do not really focus much or think much of it. Albert the Great, for example, considers Purgatory to be a place located near Hell, and where venial sins can be redeemed. He considers Purgatory a "passage-area", through which souls are led and guided by demons that are unable to harm them. Unlike Hell, which is a place of punishment where souls are tortured by both freezing cold and burning heat, Purgatory is a place of purging and purification leading to heavenly bliss - and this can only be done by fire, but a benevolent and non-harmful fire.

It was around the same time that the concept of "Limbo" appeared, as a place where the souls of unbaptized children went - and with the rise of Purgatory and Limbo, the old concepts of the Bosom of Abraham and of the refrigerium were completely erased and buried. The Purgatory became the embodiment of the "Suffering Church" Innocent III created. [To be clear: Sant Augustine established a division between Celestial Church and the Peregrine Church. This duality evolved in the 12th century into the Militant Church and the Triumphing Church, but the concept stayed the same. There is one side of the Church found on Earth, made by all the living agents of God, and the men and women of the Church, and the active Christians ; and another that is in Heaven, and is made of all the saints, and all the blessed ones living with God and His angels, and all the deceased Christians in the celestial realm. From Innocent III onward, the Christians located in Purgatory became the "third" side of the Church - the Suffering Church, or Penitent Church.]

In conclusion: all the great religious authorities, theologians and Christianity scholars agreed on the existence of Purgatory as a third place and spread the belief in it. But they still left its location and its details blurry, untold or open for imagination - placing the Purgatory as more of a secondary detail or general background in the great Christanity cosmogony. For them, recognizing that it exists was already enough: no need to waste too much time thinking about it, all you need to know is that it is there.

But despite the theologians and scholars' silence about Purgatory, the people became VERY interest with the idea of Purgatory, if not completely enamored with it. The idea of a "third realm", of a "second chance" became a HUGE thing - and as such, many, many secular or non-religious works started heavily expanding the "Purgatory lore".

Given this post is a bit too long, I'll stop here - to offer more next time...

[lesparaversdemillina]

Le carnet des rancunes de Jacques Expert

Le carnet des rancunes de Jacques Expert

Mon avis : J’ai longtemps hésité à abandonner. Ce livre est tellement plein de cynisme. Il n’y a pas une minute de pause. Imaginer que vous tenez un petit carnet pour toutes les moqueries et mauvaises choses qui vous sont arrivées. Effectivement, les coucher sur papier pourrait être une thérapie, maintenant, si comme Sébastien Desmichelles, vous les ressassez, les ruminez avec des envies de…

[theroyalsims]

"SOMETHING'S UP" - ROYAL EXPERTS CLAIM SOMETHING "HUGE" IS COMING; QUEEN'S EXPECTED TO MAKE STATEMENT

Several royal sources claim that massive news from the palace will be released in the coming days. Reports say that Her Majesty has been bracing herself and preparing to make the announcement. As to what exactly is going to be announced, some suggest that it could be as serious as a divorce within the family, or maybe even Her Majesty's abdication.

A royal divorce could explain yesterday's blind item, which claimed that a royal couple has quietly broken up. If such is the case, and if it warrants an announcement from the Palace or Her Majesty herself, experts suggest it could only mean two things: either The Queen and Prince Jacques have called it quits, or that Eleanore and Ibrahim have decided to go their separate ways. An expert shares:

"If what they're saying is true, then there are only two logical scenarios here - either it's Eleanore and Ibrahim or The Queen and Prince Jacques who have broken up. Because why would the Palace bother to 'announce' a break-up of, say, Alistair and Amarthi, or Anya and Gus? They've never bothered with past royal boyfriends and girlfriends, why start now? Either way, whispers within the palace walls say that the statement is serious. This is going to be huge. I think it's either a massive falling out, or if rumours are true, perhaps the most plausible explanation is The Queen announcing her abdication."

True enough, for several months now, rumours of the Queen stepping down have been going around. Claims of the Queen's impending abdication first started when she took a sudden and extended leave of absence earlier this year following her physician's advice. Is Her Majesty really ready to retire? While some say it's absolutely possible, other well-placed palace sources say otherwise:

"The Queen will never abdicate. It's just not in her to quit. She has prepared all her life to serve her people, and I cannot imagine her just saying, 'I'm tired, I'm passing on the baton.' I also firmly believe that Anya is just not ready yet, and I think HM feels the same."

So what could it be? One thing's for sure, the Palace is up to something, and everyone seems to be in agreement. Another royal insider claims:

"Something's up. We have our own sources who have confirmed, that, indeed, there will be an announcement and that it'll be happening soon."

But is it good news or bad news? Guess we'll find out soon enough. Here's hoping that all is well with Her Majesty and her family.

[ciboulo]

Récapitulatif de mes randonnées au parc national de la Gaspésie

📍Mont Jacques-Cartier

8,2 km aller-retour, difficile, temps estimé selon le site 4h

Il faut réserver des navettes pour se rendre au point de départ du sentier. Accès très contrôlé à cause des caribous montagnards qui y sont souvent présent. Température ressentie au sommet d’environ -5°C. C’est loin d’être mon sentier préféré mais la marche était agréable. Je l’ai fait uniquement pour voir des caribous et j’ai eu la chance d’en apercevoir au loin. Le seul point vraiment négatif c’est qu’on est toujours dans un groupe à cause des navettes.

📍 Mont Xalibu

10,6 km aller-retour, difficile, temps estimé selon le site 5h

On commence le sentier avec une vue sur le lac aux Américains qui est dans une vallée creusée par un ancien glacier. J’ai beaucoup aimé le sentier, beaucoup de point de vue en montant et j’ai croisé peu de randonneurs. La vue au belvédère près du sommet est selon moi beaucoup plus belle que la vue au sommet. Beaucoup de roche sur le dernier kilomètre pour se rendre au sommet.

📍 Mont Albert

Boucle de 17,3 km, possibilité de faire un aller-retour de 11,6 km, expert, temps estimé selon le site 6h à 8h

J’ai décidé de faire la boucle en sens horaire contre les recommandations et je ne regrette pas mon choix. Le sentier pour se rendre au sommet dans ce sens est de 11km avec une montée finale assez abrupte. Le sentier pour se rendre au sommet est magnifique, on suit des rivières, on voit des chutes, des lacs et plusieurs points de vue sur les autres montagnes. On marche très longtemps dans une cuve, il faisait très chaud et je regrettais d’avoir mis des pantalons. Encore une fois, beaucoup de roches dans les 3-4 km avant le sommet. Je n’ai croisé personne pendant mon ascension. Une fois au sommet on se retrouve sur un plateau recouvert de végétation alpine. Le sentier pour redescendre est très soutenu et je l’ai trouvé pénible, il n’y a pas de point de vue. Je comprends donc l’intérêt de le faire en sens anti-horaire mais je crois que si c’était à refaire, je choisirais encore le sens horaire. C’est une des plus belle randonnée de ma vie. On peut ajouter un 3 km supplémentaire en montant le mont Olivine.

[maggiec70]

Maréchaux d'Empire: La gloire pour destin

Quelle horreur!

On the other hand, this book will keep me alternating between guffaws and serious eye-rolls for days.

The "replacement" for David Chandler's anthology, Napoleon's Marshals, published in 1987 with each of the 26 mini-bios written by for-real scholars [and not just Americans, either] is this November 2023 anthology edited by Francois Houdecek, who holds forth at the Sorbonne, claims to be a "disciple" of Jean Tulard [I believe M. Tulard has thousands of those!], and is involved in all sorts of activities and scribblings involving Naps. He is also responsible for gathering and organizing vast quantities of Napoleon's correspondence, so kudos for that.

However--and oh, my! what a huge "however" this is!--the 26 contributors range from the marginally average Pierre Branda to the apparent dregs of French scholarship whose names have never resonated outside the borders of Gallica. Each of these articles is depressingly cardboard, flimsy with details, utterly bereft of any attempt at analysis or understanding of the individual's character, talents--or lack thereof--and other useful and expected details, even in an anthology. These contributors apparently competed to see who could write the most drivel using the fewest sources. Naturally, I went straight to the entry about Lannes, and by the time I reached the end, I had permanently dislocated my eyebrows. The "author" of this travesty is Jacques-Olivier Boudon, whose credentials, on paper, are impressive but whose knowledge of Jean-Boy is worse than passing; it is non-existent. The reason for that is based on M. Boudon's sources:

He cites Lannes’ “official dossier” in the SHD, which I copied before I left, so I know every page and every sentence in it, and I know you won’t find squat that is useful unless, of course, you care how much putting on Mozart’s Requiem cost, and who sang the tenor solo.

High on the hit parade list is Regis de Crepy’s smarmy bio of the Lovely Louise, another book I can quote endlessly. Boudon used one letter from that.

Boudon also took bits and pieces from the three more recent French biographies by Dammame, Zins, and Willette—although the latest was published in 1994—and explained what I thought about them in a previous blog.

The absolutely most hysterical “source” is the 2002 historical fiction by a lovely 93-year-old woman, Penelope Le Fers-Dupac, who lives in Lectoure and who I know [I also know the biographer Jean-Claude Dammame, but that’s another story]. This novel is called “Le Mousquetaire de Napoleon: L’autre vie du marechal Lannes.” Make of this what you will, but it is the wonderfully entertaining, hilarious, and fictional tale of Jean-Boy’s first marriage.

I am appalled that this person didn’t do justice to Jean-Boy in an anthology where he would have shone at the top in capable hands. I know who's the real expert here, and I certainly don’t mind if someone also chooses to write about My Guy. But he or she had damn well better get it right, and this French morceau de merde massacred his subject.

BTW, joachimnapoleon, have you encountered Vincent Haegele? He did Murat no favors here, either. Thanks for reading the rant. I feel better.

[mariacallous]

FP World Brief: The Fallout of European Elections

Mainstream parties secured a slim majority during European Union parliamentary elections this weekend, but far-right groups made the most noteworthy gains in the bloc’s legislative body. “The center is holding, but it is also true that the extremes on the left and on the right have gained support,” European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen said on Sunday following the end of Europe’s four-day vote.

Among the centrist leaders forced to reckon with the far right’s rise is French President Emmanuel Macron, who called for snap legislative elections on Sunday after opposition leader Marine Le Pen’s right-wing National Rally party delivered a crushing defeat to Macron’s Renaissance party in the European Parliament elections—winning around 31 percent of the vote compared with the Renaissance delegation’s less than 15 percent. France’s snap elections will take place on June 30 and July 7.

“The rise of nationalists, of demagogues, is a danger for our nation but also for our Europe, for France’s place in Europe and in the world,” Macron said in an announcement to dissolve the National Assembly. Regional experts worry that Macron is taking a major risk with his remaining three years in office. If Le Pen gains control of the National Assembly, then France could be forced into “cohabitation,” in which the president is part of a different political party than the majority of French parliamentarians. In 1997, the last time that a president dissolved parliament, right-wing then-President Jacques Chirac lost his party’s majority to the left.

Belgian Prime Minister Alexander De Croo also took drastic measures following far-right gains in parliamentary and general elections this weekend. On Monday, De Croo tendered his resignation after his Open Flemish Liberals and Democrats party dropped to ninth place—far behind the right-wing New Flemish Alliance (N-VA) and far-right Vlaams Belang party.

N-VA leader Bart De Wever is expected to become Belgium’s next prime minister. De Croo will serve in a caretaker capacity until Brussels forms a new coalition, which could take months; De Croo’s own coalition took almost 18 months to form, and in 2010, the country took 541 days to form a government.

The far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD) party secured second place in the country’s European Parliament elections, with almost 16 percent of the vote—its best showing yet. “We’ve done well because people have become more anti-European,” AfD co-leader Alice Weidel said on Sunday, citing Germans’ frustration with EU bureaucracy. AfD gains underscored the far right’s strength ahead of next year’s federal election despite the party suffering a series of scandals related to Nazi-sympathetic comments.

Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni bolstered her image as Europe’s kingmaker after her right-wing Brothers of Italy party more than quadrupled its vote share in the European Parliament. The far-right Freedom Party of Austria gained nearly 26 percent of the vote, topping the national ballot for the first time in history. And in the Netherlands, the anti-immigration Party for Freedom, led by Geert Wilders, celebrated moving from one to six seats in the European Parliament.

But not all right-wing parties fared well. Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orban’s nationalist Fidesz party won the most votes but fell short of surpassing its 2019 success, achieving only 44 percent of the vote versus the 53 percent secured five years earlier. Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk’s centrist Civic Coalition secured a narrow win over the right-wing Law and Justice party. And Bulgaria’s center-right GERB party won snap elections on Sunday against the ultra-nationalist Reviva