#Napoleon in his time
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i miss you nailgun
#my awareness that the nailgun was gonna be a scout-only weapon is through the roof... fyi...#i think itd be funny if engie and scout went through his old things and just Found the nailgun#quite yummers!#also peep funny s-s-s-sex joke in the big 2025. disgraceful.. i know#sigh time for normal tumblr tags.. smh#engiespy#or could be considered platonic. I guess. i always joke like this with my friends... its normal.#napoleon complex#art#digital art#my art#engineer tf2#engie tf2#spy tf2#tf2#team fortress 2#practical espionage#i still dont know if theres a difference between practical espionage and napoleon complex.#i think if there is it will one day bite me in the ass#thats okay though#we'll live#spy x engineer#wwyd if your girl shipped engiespy#kill her with hammers or kill her with nails#the big question of 2025#remember when i said this was now just the normal tag section?#yeah me neither#tf2 fanart
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such a Which Could Mean Nothing ass clip
#his hand lingers on that bit for sooo fucking long for what !!!!!!!!#mr mccallum thank you for your service to the subtext warriors across time#tmfu#tmfu tv#the man from uncle#illya kuryakin#napoleon solo#napollya
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I haven’t drawn in ages but here have some younger Napoleon with that fuckass bob




the third one was actually inspired by the incident with Ludwig von Cobenzl, the Austrian diplomat who negotiated a peace treaty with Napoleon after the Italian campaign and the latter broke his expensive vase about it like “damn. how fragile. I wonder what would happen if I do that with the rest of your army?”
and Alexander is there too I guess
#ignore the smudges on the last one I redid his face 5343 times#napoleon bonaparte#napoleon#my art#<a tag I never thought i’d use again#napoleonic wars
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Hello the three other people in this fandom, here's more papers, please guys for you. I hate Dimitri <3
#that quote is from black adder but I thought it'd be fitting#I like to think the inspector hates Dimitri as much as the players do#because why wouldn't he#he's just polite about it#Dimitri chews him out for not letting Shae in or something and he's like with all due respect sir#the next time you want me to break protocol and let your lady friend in the least you could do is make sure I won't get a citation for it#you know it docks my pay Dimitri#you're my supervisor Dimitri#and the guards are like :00!!! someone finally said it#anyways M. Vonel is my favorite short king#His appearance is a bit of a jumpscare so I like to think the inspector was a bit startled to open the shutter#imagine arriving to work and some napoleon looking ass is just standing there#papers please#papers please m. vonel#m. vonel#m vonel#papers please dimitri#papers please inspector#papers please fanart#artists on tumblr#papers please incorrect quotes
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“Ah! Finally my HotPocket is ready!”
#napoleon bonaparte#napoleon#bonaparte#emperor napoleon#Napoleon loved his hot pockets#hotpocket#Napoleon did a thing#that time
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ummm FrozenPlatform (kinda you'll only get the joke if you've seen me on twit) post here too cuz why not : ]
Guts and Blackpowder AU art that you won't understand unless ur from my twit.
twit: @ CoeurDeLuciole
#guts and blackpowder#gnbp#gnb#g&bp#winter king#simon petrikov#fionna and cake#adventure time#napoleonic wars#napoleonic era#roblox#roblox art#my artwork#the reason why his hair and clothes look a little off is because i originally drew him in his clothes from the show and his hair down!#i made a quick edit to change it for public accs bc i refuse to post the original version due to annoying ppl sry
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If Fernando's gonna insist on having such short hair, could he at least style it like he did in 2012?
#i didnt expect hus hair to be THAT short#ik it was very short in the pic but 😭 so short wow#you're killing me old man#every time he gets a haircut i look back at old pics where his hair was around the same length#like hhas he lost the ability to style it 😭#every day he really does turn more and more into Napoleon......#f1#formula 1#fernando alonso
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the man from uncle without context
#hey guys remember when illya got mummified#me too i carry a little illya picture in my hand at all time#saw someone on tumbr say that illya was protesting because uncle forgot to pay his lunch or smthing like that (before i saw the episode)#and i thought it was true#because i do see illya joining a protest group against uncle just for laughs (or seriously lol) after they forgot to pay him TT#so i was almost disappointed when i saw it was for a mission#anyway#the man from uncle#tmfu#tmfu tv#illya kuryakin#napoleon solo
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traditional art doodle dump things idk what they're called just take them💔



Ok that's all BYE
#marshal davout#louis nicolas davout#btw i showed a few classmates davout and they (unsprusingely) kept on DISSING his bald ass ☹️#one time i put the drawing right infront kf my classmate's face as a joke and she looked away as if his forehead was flashing her eyes#ANOTHER ALSO CALLED HIM AM EGG??? unbeleiebavle.#guess who my favorite marshal is.... *drum rolls*#my art#napoleonic wars#napoleon bonaparte#history#doodle dump
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Time Travel Temeraire snippet
At first, Laurence assumes he's dead.
It's a natural conclusion. He remembers dying, after all.
He and Tenzing were at a function hosted by Wellesley. They were mostly there to support the dragons. Temeraire had long abandoned them to quarrel with Perscitia in the courtyard, with half a dozen ferals watching like it were a jousting match. Wellesley had laid out his grounds to allow room for dragons and men to mingle, but a good portion of the guests retreated inside to avoid the raised voices of the dragons.
Laurence wonders how Temeraire felt about that, later. About not seeing.
He was stabbed. He barely remembers it – just a quick pulse of pain in his chest, looking down. Red blooming over his coat.
Then he was on the floor. People screamed. Tenzing appeared, grappling with a tall and finely-dressed man; he used a dinner-knife to punch a hole in the stranger's throat, in a fantastic spray of blood, and dropped the body at once to kneel by Laurence's side.
He remembers Wellesley barking orders – bandages, water, a hot knife. Have to cauterize it, he'd shouted. Keep pressure -
But Tenzing never spoke. Just pressed down on Laurence's chest, over the wound, without particular panic. Laurence still remembers the grim resignation on his face; Tenzing knew what was coming. Laurence was glad to have him there when he died.
Then Laurence woke up.
The world sways in a familiar way, a rhythmic motion that Laurence registers on a soul-deep level. He's on a ship. But why? Where is Tenzing, Temeraire? Why would they put him on a ship?
“I think the fever's breaking,” says a voice. A naval doctor, disheveled and salt-stained, with long scars down his bared arms. “Oh, and awake too!”
“Well thank Christ,” says another man. One Laurence recognizes.
It's Captain Gerry Stuart – but he looks different, younger than the last time Laurence saw him, with smooth skin and dark curly hair.
Gerry died two years ago.
“Well, Lieutenant! You gave us a scare – how are you feeling?” Gerry asks.
“It's Admiral,” Laurence corrects rather than all the other things he does not dare ask. He hates the title foisted upon him; but it's at least more comprehensible than Lieutenant, and he clings to that rather than demand where did you come from.
Stuart throws back his head to cackle, though the concern doesn't leave his face. “Still perhaps a bit feverish, I think!”
“That might be the laudanum,” says the doctor, also amused. “Why don't you sleep a bit more, Lieutenant?”
“But where is Temeraire? Or Tenzing?”
“I can only assume you had some very vivid dreams,” Stuart chuckles. “You were babbling and babbling for Temeraire – isn't that a ship?”
“Perhaps the flagship of his fleet,” suggests the doctor, and Stuart laughs again. “Get some rest, Mr. Laurence. Holler if you need me.”
They both exit the sick-berth. Laurence stares blankly at the door.
What?
Laurence pats his chest. No wound. He looks down, startled by the pale thinness of his fingers, his youth-soft skin.
Well; not soft. Callouses cover his hands. But even these patterns are different – hard skin in places where he would hold a sword, or pulls ropes. His hands should be more wrinkled, yes; but these callouses faded years ago.
“Where am I?” he asks when the doctor returns. “And what is the year?”
“The year? 1793. You don't remember?”
1793. Laurence was 19 in 1793. A lieutenant for two years, on the Shorewise.
The doctor narrows his eyes. “What's my name, lad?”
Laurence swallows. His stomach churns; for the life of him he can't remember.
The doctor rushes off to retrieve the captain.
_____________________________
Laurence is diagnosed with brain fever, and partial amnesia. Gerry is horribly guilty about laughing, earlier; Laurence could not care less. He is given strict orders to stay on bed-rest for another week, in hope his strength will recover – and his mind.
Laurence doesn't think he'll have any issues working – he's forgotten many of the people around him, true, but he may never forget the way to run a ship. He's far more concerned with learning what happened.
From all appearances, it is indeed 1793. France is undergoing riots, and declared war against Britain in February. Temeraire has not hatched. Napoleon is probably a corporal or general himself, at this point. If he exists at all. God knows, perhaps Laurence is only mad.
But he doesn't feel mad. His memories are too vivid to be mere fever-dreams. A man cannot dream up twenty years of life!
But neither can a man go back to his youth, and live it all again.
I have a dragon, he thinks of saying. There is no war, because I captured Napoleon – an unknown man who makes himself emperor.
Mad. It sounds mad even to Laurence himself. But to imagine that Temeraire was a fever-ridden dream... Tenzing and Granby and China, all of it...
Laurence doesn't share his turmoil with anyone – not even with Gerry, who checks on him fretfully. After a week the doctor declares him well enough, physically. He's paired always with another lieutenant for the first few days on duty, and his shipmates watch him carefully for signs of permanent debilitation; but aside from a moment or two of hesitance, Laurence competently resumes his duties. The oversight lessens.
Laurence thinks about writing letters.
He thinks about writing to Tharkay's late father, who ought to still be alive, inquiring after his son. He thinks of writing to Prince Mianning, asking about the health of Lung Tien Qian. He thinks of writing to young Midshipman Granby, his unwed brother, his dead father...
Not all of them would reply. But he could ask questions. Could verify the truth of things. Unless this, instead, is the delusion.
Is he in 1793, imagining the future? Is he in the future, imagining the past? Or maybe he is already dead, and this is the reality of hell. He came here burning with fever, and now he burns with fear. Surely that is it's own form of torture.
Laurence is ironically given the task of tutoring the midshipman and lieutenant-hopefuls more than any other duty as the weeks pass; his crewmates still look askance, and the more eager of the midshipman become protective. Laurence remains perfectly capable of command; it is only that he can't help but be absent-minded, sometimes, staring at all the crewmen that pass him like they are nothing but moving paintings. Images of a world that no longer matters.
One evening the midshipmen drag him away to a meal with the other officers. It's a noisy crowd; Laurence would find the friendly bustle comforting in another life.
One of the senior officers, Lieutenant Moore, waves him down as Laurence enters. Evidently they used to be friends, given his notably concerned behavior of late. Laurence can't remember the man, and has a sneaking suspicion he died too soon to make a lasting impression.Moore jostles him when Laurence sits at the long table. “Will! Did you get any letters with the last batch?”
A patrolling gunboat brought a satchel of letters just this morning. “I did not,” Laurence says. He's grateful for the fact. He'd found a few pieces of correspondence in his quarters that he dutifully sent on; he cannot imagine writing a letter now, in this confused state.
“Then you've had no news! Robespierre has gone mad. Madder than before, I suppose.”
“Robespierre?” asks Laurence blankly.
Lieutenant Moore double-takes, as does everyone else around them. “Good lord, Will, please tell me you remember Robespierre?”
Right... Robespierre's reign was brief, but this is when he led France. Some of the things the papers published...
Well, at least Laurence has a well-worn excuse for his ignorance. He plays up his malady: “Yes. I think I recall he was... French?”
Groans of horror mixed with amusement echo around the table. “...Well you aren't wrong,” says Moore, looking pained. “He has styled himself the 'President' of their Assembly, which is some stupid way of being king; the French are all mad about removing and adding words right now. I don't know how they expect anyone to hold a conversation.”
“We should... probably educate Mr. Laurence about the war at some point,” some midshipman mutters. Laurence doesn't recall his name.
Moore sighs again. “Anyway. Robespierre is a tyrant, of course. But he's elected someone else to rule France! Barely more than a boy, too.”
Laurence frowns; he doesn't remember what Moore's talking about. “Why would he do that? Did they capture one of the Bourbons?” Declaring himself regent of a child-prince would at least make sense.
“Well, at least you remember them. No; it is some nobody, a young soldier. Not even French! I cannot fathom it.”
It feels like Laurence has been dunked in ice.
For a moment he can't respond. “What was his name? The soldier.”
“Napoleon Bonaparte. He has been chosen as head of their new heresy, the 'Cult of the Supreme Being,' they're calling it; and now de facto head of the government, too. Must be a priest? I don't know, nothing the French are doing makes sense. I expect his little group will be as short-lived as everything else about these riots.”
But Laurence doesn't think so. “...Excuse me; I'm feeling a bit poorly,” he says, rising on wavering legs.
“Yes, you look it! Go on, we'll tell you about the war later...”
Laurence flees.
#posting bc i have no idea where this is going or if I'll do anything with it#it's just a funny stupid idea#Laurence travelling in time: I have gone mad. I am plagued by visions. God is punishing me for my Sins. This is purgatory.#Why is this happening? What moral course of action can I take under these circumstances?#Napoleon travelling through time: No idea how this happened. Neat. Time to hijack a cult and rule my country even earlier.#basic concept is Laurence has an ongoing existential crisis about his Place In The Universe#but also he is determined to stop Napoleon#who is delighted and fascinated they BOTH came back and sort of indulgently lets him try#basically resulting in Laurence becoming Napoleon's unwilling advisor frantically trying to do damage control in between bouts#of philosophical dread and despair#“Poor Mr Laurence was loyal before the brain fever we swear”#meanwhile Laurence is in France just trying desperately to make Napoleon Stop#etc etc#Temeraire
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epic napoleon art i have labeled as a napling. yay! ok bye
redraw of this except i FORGOT THE EARS...but I'm not fixing it fuck that. more soon perhaps if you ask nicely enough though...

#history#history art#fanart#?????#napling#teehee#arles art#!!!#sigh i hate tags#napoleon#i liked his gay-ass little bob tbh#artists on tumblr#ok i'm too lazy to put in his name another thousand times goodbye#napoleonic shitpost
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So I started watching ‘Sharpe’
#so I have#Richard sharpe#I still need to finish nutmeg of consolation#and then Sharpe novels#and aubreyad at the same dam time#memes#Sean bean#he’s such a bean#fun fact his characters reminded me that I deserve better than one guy at uni and I’m so grateful#Lotr#got#Sharpe#funny#napoleonic#aubreyad#goldeneye#Ned stark#eddard stark
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How I see Sockathan in my head:
Sock - fell first
Jonathan - fell harder
#w2h#welcome to hell#sockathan#jonathan combs#napoleon maxwell sowachowski#did you see the way sock look at jon's photo in his file#in love instantly#jon took awhile to feel the same way but eventually one time he looks over at sock laughing adorably and is like ''oh. oh fuck''
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I’ve never seen this one god-tier Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians joke mentioned by anyone, so I might as well explain it myself. For some reason, nobody seems to notice it, but for me it hit easily as hard or harder than the Gak thing from the last book.
So, ever since I learned about the Smedrys being named after prisons, I was waiting for a cousin named Elba. Not only would it make sense as a name and as a prison, I thought it’d be kinda cute and fit the style. Unfortunately, this never quite happened… but the fact that I had my eye on it let me catch EXACTLY why.
For those of you who aren’t familiar, Elba was the island on which Napoleon was imprisoned after his defeat. It’s a fairly well known prison, I think— at least, more well known than ADX or Kazan (right? Tell me I’m not missing important prison facts?) The issue here, which should stand out to any Attentive Readers- as Alcatraz might say- is that France doesn’t exist.
It’s never really addressed specifically, or explained in detail, but it’s sort of a recurring gag in the books. The entire concept and history of France, including the Napoleonic Wars, is a lie invented by Librarians. I should specify that this is canon, not just a joke, and not something Alcatraz made up in the one book where he pretends to be stupid. The world map at the beginning of the books is mostly focused on the Free Kingdoms, but if you take a quick look at the Hushlands silhouettes it’s pretty clear that France is missing.
So, no France, no Napoleon, no Elba. When I first noticed this, I was impressed by the level of detail that went into the continuity of even this dumb joke. And then…
(Ok, now that I’ve revealed this post as completely incomprehensible, spoilers below the cut.)
I went into book 5 with this understanding: no France, no Napoleon, no Elba. But fortunately— maybe even as intended, though I have no idea whether any of this is common knowledge— I had missed the point. Elba is the name of the island, not the prison, which has its own name.
So I was reading the Highbrary infiltration, processing Alcatraz’s complex feelings about cousin Dif, and then— I can’t remember where— someone finally addressed Dif by his full name. D’If Smedry. And immediately, dozens of alarm bells went off in my head. France doesn’t exist! Napoleon doesn’t exist! His prison on the island of Elba— the Chateau D’If— isn’t real! WHO IS THIS GUY??
An incredible experience indeed.
#Alcatraz#alcatraz vs the evil librarians#alcatraz smedry#dif smedry#napoleon#(yea I tagged Napoleon. enjoy.)#brandon sanderson#cfsbf#I would like to elaborate on this sometime#because evidently he does this kind of thing quite a bit in all his books#and this is the only time so far that I’ve caught it in advance
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Gaelen Foley's Princess (which if it doesn't fuck up in the end is gonna be a favorite lol) update:
no details except of course Darius Santiago cries when deflowering this maniac of a girl
#romance novel blogging#i've been so wrapped up in the virgin lactation/napoleon bonaparte assassination plot#i've barely even mentioned the other crazy shit#did y'all know that darius santiago plays a soulful guitar but also does not do this for any of his other bitches?#just the PRINCESS#she's like 'oh shit we're really doing this' and looks up and he's teary lmao#Y'ALL HE'S BEEN IN LOVE W HER FOR SO LONG!!!!#he's very distressed. this is an amazing deflowering scene lmao#sorry i'm updating in real time SHE JUST SAID THE FUCKING WILDEST SHIT I HAVE EVER READ A VIRGIN HEROINE SAY#IN RESPONSE TO PENETRATION#i was nOT prepared (nor was darius santiago)#idk if i've read many other romances wherein you're more convinced that two people are meant for each other tho#like. these two lunatics are each other's DESTINIES
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The men weren’t sure about this new little strange man, a general Bonaparte.
But they knew they’d follow his fine ass anywhere.
#napoleon bonaparte#napoleon#bonaparte#emperor napoleon#general bonaparte#are they checking out his ass#they are checking out his ass#Napoleon did a thing#that time
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