#Napoleon threatened

[microcosme11]

Details from La journée de 18 Brumaire an VIII by Jean Duplessis Bertaux. There are two scenes, worth looking at (links below). This printer lived through l'ancien régime, the Directoire, Consulate, Empire and Restoration. He has a series about the Revolution. Just go to commons.wikimedia.org and search for his name.

wikimedia 1

wikimedia 2

[ofmiceandwomen]

I’m very bad at social media but on the other hand I keep complaining that nobody cares about my creations and it’s like a vicious circle and I don’t know what to do with it.

Also, I have been experiencing a kind of a Tolkien burnout recently, and I feel particularly bad about it.

So, anyway… have my latest passion project - Autumn court waistcoat inspired by ACOTAR series. Maybe it will be a full Eris Vanserra cosplay although I don’t particularly love the series.

I have copied the pattern from 1760s waistcoat and I got inspired in the Napoleonic uniforms for the embroidery.

The waistcoat is made from synthetic silk brocade, embroidered with metal (I love the gold work and the oak leaves make me feel very heroic and empowered, lol).

The shirt is a classical 1700s shirt and my first attempt at historical sewing.

Is anyone interested in these irregular screams into the void?

[dathen]

“Well,” said Lestrade, “I've seen you handle a good many cases, Mr. Holmes, but I don't know that I ever knew a more workmanlike one than that. We're not jealous of you at Scotland Yard. No, sir, we are very proud of you, and if you come down to-morrow there's not a man, from the oldest inspector to the youngest constable, who wouldn't be glad to shake you by the hand.”

“Thank you!” said Holmes. “Thank you!” and as he turned away it seemed to me that he was more nearly moved by the softer human emotions than I had ever seen him.

Ever since I watched the Jeremy Brett adaption which had Holmes actually tear up at this part, I’ve been musing on what in particular about this compliment had him affected so deeply. He gets praise all the time! He’s always dazzling or confounding those around him!

But I think there’s just something about someone telling him they’re proud of him hit a nerve. I feel it’s very likely that this is the first time he’s ever heard it. What vague hints we get about his family is anything but warm. He sought out a father figure with Victor Trevor’s father, but only frightened him. Mycroft is smarter and more respectable and anything but emotionally effusive.

Watson is full of praise bordering on worship, but I think Holmes was starved for someone being proud of him in a way he’s not even conscious of himself. Oh he loves to dazzle, to be sure, and doesn’t hesitate to fish for it. He’ll blush at applause but cry at ‘I’m proud of you.’

[hauntingblue]

Zeus fighting for nami bc she doesn't wanna fight a child lmao SANJI ENTERS STAGE LEFT

[valtsv]

the main premise of temeraire is what if they had dragons in the napoleonic wars. the secondary premise of temeraire is if you're an honourable naval captain with a strong sense of duty and justice that causes you to constantly threaten that honour with your deep-seated psychologically revealing righteous fury everyone will want to fuck you so bad it makes them look stupid including napoleon and the dragon.

[citizen-card]

napoleon was 31 here getting threatened by a 4 year old

[aphroditelovesu]

this is going to end badly, but... Can you do Yandere love letter where the boys found out Reader cheated on them?

The Yandere love letter from Alexander The Great, Julius Caesar, Napoleon, and Henry VIII pls

Alexander the Great

My Queen,

May your betrayal be your own curse. If you persist on this path, know that I am capable of things that not even the gods would dare to speak of. My wrath is relentless and uncontrollable when it comes to the woman I once loved.

As for this man you cheated on me with, know that he is playing with death itself. I, who faced entire armies, will pursue him to the end of the earth, and he will find no refuge. If he touches you again, not a stone will be left unturned in his city, and he will be remembered as a traitor until the end of time.

I swear I will destroy his city, put men to the sword and sell their women and children into slavery. And then I will deal with you.

You, (Y/N), have the power to avert this dark fate. Return to my arms, renounce this treachery, and perhaps I will consider showing leniency. If not, know that my vengeance is a storm no mortal can weather. Make no mistake though, because you will be punished and I guarantee you won't like your punishment, my love.

This is your last chance, my Queen. Return to me and hand over your wretched lover and perhaps I will show you mercy.

With fury and despair,

Alexander.

Julius Caesar

My love,

Today, darkness enveloped my heart. The news of her betrayal, my sweet wife, tears me apart in a way that not even the bloodiest battles have been able to do.

For you, I crossed oceans and crossed deserts, shed blood and brought down empires. However, I realize that the hardest battle I face is the one you fought on the sly with another man. I feel betrayed, but also consumed by a sick, and furious love that burns like the fire of Rome.

I will not allow him to breathe the same air as you, to touch your skin as I did, to steal your love from me. I will hunt him down, torture him, and kill him.

(Y/N), my wife, my life and my soul belong to you. If you continue with this traitor, I swear I will make an example of him, a warning for all to see. I'll make an example of you. You are my wife, my reason for living, and I won't let anything or anyone take you away from me.

Reflect on your actions, my beloved, for my passion is stronger than any army, hotter than any fire. I won't forgive you, but I'm willing to compromise.

With angry and love,

Julius Caesar.

Napoleon Bonaparte

My beloved wife,

I write these words with a heavy heart and a mind tormented by the thoughts that have invaded my soul. I found out that you, my beloved wife, betrayed the trust that we once placed in each other.y pain is indescribable, my mind troubled by terrible visions of your betrayal.

You know what I can do when faced with challenges when those I love are threatened. My reputation as a military leader is widely known, but what you may not know is that my love for you is just as fierce.

I know where you've been, who you've been with, and what you've done. Every detail is etched in my mind like a scar, a scar that burns like lava from a volcano. (Y/N), my love, I solemnly warn you that if you persist in this betrayal, the consequences will be dire. The fire that burns in my chest can be directed to protect or to destroy, and you must choose wisely.

Reflect on what we have together, on the lives we've built, and on the price that may be paid for your actions. My love for you runs deep, and I will not hesitate to use every means in my power to keep what's mine. You are mine and I will destroy anyone who gets in my way, especially that damn lover of yours. But don't worry, I've already dealt with it myself.

I pray that reason prevails in your heart, for my passion and my anger are a force that cannot be contained. I hope you make the right choice and maybe I'll be benevolent.

With love and so much jealousy,

Napoleon.

Henry VIII

My sweet wife,

I write these words with a rage that burns hotter than the sun. My trust in you has been unacceptably betrayed, and my rage is untamed. How dare you betray me, a woman who swore allegiance to me and our kingdom?

I, Henry VIII, a mighty and formidable king, will not tolerate such dishonor. You must be aware that by challenging my authority and my love, by violating our marriage, you are playing with your own destiny. With your life.

My spies have reported every detail of your heinous betrayals, (Y/N). There is no escape, no hiding place where you can hide. My anger is like an approaching storm, and the thunder of my vengeance will resound across England.

You, who shared my bed and my trust, now face the wrath of a disgraced monarch. Have no illusions my dear as my love for you has turned into a darkness that will swallow up everything in its path. And it's all your fault.

(Y/N), if you wish to avoid a dark and terrible fate, I suggest you change course immediately. Renounce your betrayals and be my loyal wife again, and I can show you mercy, but not your damned lover. No. He's already dead. Should you decide to disobey me once more, the sword will fall on your head, as it fell on others who dared to defy me.

With unabated fury,

Henry.

[isthenapoleoncute]

It is important to know what you all think your Napoleons are most threatened by

[yanderepuck]

We are thanking @aquagirl1978 for this.

At the Bronx zoo, they are letting you name a cockroach after someone and you get a little certificate for doing so.

So let's imagine MC doing this for the guys. She prints out the little certificate and gives it to them all cute like.

Napoleon

"You...did what?" Looking at the certificate wondering if he's reading it wrong.

"I named a cockroach after you"

He just looks at you. Very confused. Not sure if it's meant to be endearing or semi threatening.

"...You still love me, right?"

"of course!"

Mozart

"....."

"Do you like it~"

"That..is.. DISGUSTING!"

You laugh as he throws a small tantrum.

"COCKROACHES ARE DISGUSTING. WHY WOULD YOU NAME ONE AFTER ME?"

"Because cockroaches are forever like our love~"

"....."

"I got the matching socks too"

"get those away from me"

Leonardo

"..a cockroach?"

"a hissing cockroach!"

Leonardo is just looking at the certificate. "I've been called worse things" shrugs and hangs it up in his wall

Vincent

"aww. Thanks" he smiles at it and you even got him the cockroach plushie to go with it. You knew he would like it. He's going to go paint the two of you as cockroaches now, and going on a date

Theo

Mildly offended. "Why a cockroach?"

"Why not. It hisses and so do you. It seems fitting"

Still offended and is convinced you could have chosen a different animal/insect but decided on the cockroach for who knows what reason

Arthur

You know he goes all out for Valentine's Day as it is. So when you just hand him the certificate he's a little confused.

"I named a cockroach after you!"

"..is...is that a normal thing in your country?"

"nope!"

He's wondering if this is a warning.

"I got us matching roach socks too!"

Isaac

Boy probably shrieked a little when seeing a cockroach on the paper. "WHY???"

"I thought it was cute"

"WHATS CUTE ABOUT A COCKROACH?"

"They hiss!"

He screams again. But then you made him sit through the virtual encounter and he screams a little when it hisses

Jean

Handles it better than you expected honestly. For a split second you thought he would be confused "so this is how people celebrate Valentine's Day? They name bugs after each other"

"not exactly. I thought it would be a funny gift."

You got him the plush and he's holding it like a baby and he carries it around all day and tells people it's name is also Jean

Dazai

"Aww. I got you the same thing"

You were SHOOK

Dazai also handed you a certificate. Needless to say he enjoyed being named after a cockroach. You're the one a little upset by it

Shakespeare

He's telling you about how he is taking you to this nice restaurant. He even got you a new dress to go out in. And then you hand him a box with the certificate and the plush inside.

"a... cockroach? You named a cockroach after me.."

He's wondering if he's done anything wrong and you did this because you're mad at him.

Comte

He has no clue how to react. He bought you fancy chocolates and nice wine. Probably a new gold necklace. And he got matching roach socks and a certificate. He's probably a little concerned on how you were able to do this and why you wanted to. But he's putting on the socks right now

Sebastian

Probably sees the humor in it and thinks it's funny. He's oddly excited about the virtual encounter. Meanwhile he probably found a site where you can name a worm after your loved one because of the meme "would you still love me if I was a worm"

Vlad

He thought you would pick something more elegant than a cockroach. Maybe something fluffy. Not a cockroach.

"Roaches are forever, like our love, and you"

Vlad now thinking roaches are immortal and is curious about them. This isn't what you planned. But he is very touched by this

Faust

"....you got me a cockroach?"

"no..I named one after you"

"why would you-" so very confused. He definitely hangs it up in his lab. It keeps his ego down tbh. You start calling him your little cockroach since he calls you a guinea pig

Charles

Slightly disturbed at first but is definitely here for the matching socks.

"didn't have to be a cockroach? I think I'm cuter than a cockroach"

"you're the cutest cockroach"

But then you watch the virtual encounter and he screams a little when it hisses. He wasn't expecting that

Drake

"aww you got me a gift?" Sees the certificate. "...a roach."

"because our love will never die~"

This is his first Valentine's with you and you named him after a roach.

"Is this a modern thing people do?"

"not really. Just a funny thing"

He's thinking you are trying to offend him but he's actually enthusiastic about it

Galileo

Didn't even want to do anything for Valentine's but you hand him an envelope and he sees the certificate and he gets very confused.

"happy valentine's day~"

"... I think I'm a little above a roach"

"you both seem to hiss when touched so I see no difference"

That shot his ego down

[skitskatdacat63]

"Arrogant, ruthless, and by all reports (including his own) utterly charming."

(I don't know why I drew this but please take Revolutionary War British officer George, I think it suits him, okay!!!)

+ George Russell the type of guy to t-pose in front of rebels

+ the usual

Okay first of all, process, as always:

I drew this in one day hahaha....Actually really fun! I haven't finished anything in almost a month, and haven't painted for even longer, so I'm kinda dying at the fact that 18th century George Russell got me motivated 😭 Sometimes when painting, I realize I have free will and can actually just start painting over the lineart, and that's the best moment of every drawing process 🙏

Also I'm very proud of his face!!! I've said before, but art progression is such a weird thing. You'll keep repeating to your self "I'm no good at [insert art thing.]" And then randomly realized you can in fact do it. That's me with drawing real people's faces 😭 I'm just so shocked I got his face pretty good in one try!!!

Okay about the pose and quote. God its so fun to misappropriate quotes for my own evil deeds. Both of these are from this one officer from the Revolution: Banastre Tarleton. Idk, I randomly saw his painting in a history video, and it's stuck in my mind ever since. And then yesterday, bcs I spent a lot of time looking at George, I'm like "hey you know what he kinda reminds me of-" and thus we have this.

I just found that quote about him from some historian to be funny, so I put it as a caption, as I would with Napoleon. This won't be an AU by any means but. I think if George was in the Revolution, he'd be the most stereotypical, evil British villain in American media type guy ever. And Tarleton is kinda that guy tbh, to the point where him and others like Arnold Benedict are the poster boys of evil Revolution guys. He even has a mocking nickname! "Bloody Tarleton/Ban", very "Osama bin Russell," no? 😭

Some notable moments from Tarleton's campaign that I think fit George: Apparently killed a bunch of American soldiers after they surrendered, making sure everyone was dead(😭😭), threatened to burn an American general's house down to make him surrender and then took him hostage, went toe to toe with George Washington himself and Washington even taunted him and Tarleton got a shot in, has a helmet named after him(very slayful.)

[newyorkthegoldenage]

The Marx Brothers left vaudeville and stepped up to the legitimate theater in 1924 with a show called I'll Say She Is. Unlike their subsequent shows such as Animal Crackers and The Cocoanuts, it was never turned into a movie, although one historian has said that "Every Marx Brothers film contains material and situations that can be traced back to I'll Say She Is." Groucho called it "probably the funniest show we ever did."

I'll Say She Is toured for a year and a half before arriving on Broadway in May, 1924. No one expected it to succeed; the Broadway engagement was just a sop to the brothers, who had been threatening to leave the show unless it went to New York.

But the critics loved it. "It is a bright-colored and vehement setting for the goings-on of those talented cutups, the Four Marx Brothers," wrote Alexander Woollcott in the New York Sun, who went on to single out Harpo for special praise.

Maybe it was being on Broadway that led the brothers to bill themselves, in the program, as Herbert, Leonard, Julius H., and Arthur Marx. Not that anyone was fooled.

The show ran for 313 performances, which was excellent for the time. The brothers were lionized by New York society, and Harpo was invited to join the Algonquin Round Table.

Above: Harpo, Groucho, Zeppo, and Chico, with Lotta Miles, in the sketch called "Napoleon's First Waterloo," in which Groucho played Boney. Source: illsaysheis.com

Below: a handbill from the performance of November 17, 1924. Source: NYPL

[royalty-nobility]

Muhammad Ali Pasha Viceroy of Egypt

Artist: Auguste Couder (French, 1789–1873)

Date: 1841

Medium: OIl on canvas

Collection: Museum of the History of France, Palace of Versailles, Paris, France

Muhammad Ali of Egypt

Muhammad Ali (4 March 1769 – 2 August 1849) was the Ottoman Albanian viceroy and governor who became the de facto ruler of Egypt from 1805 to 1848, widely considered the founder of modern Egypt. At the height of his rule, he controlled Egypt, Sudan, Hejaz, the Levant, Crete and parts of Greece.

He was a military commander in an Albanian Ottoman force sent to recover Egypt from French occupation under Napoleon. Following Napoleon's withdrawal, Muhammad Ali rose to power through a series of political maneuvers, and in 1805 he was named Wāli (governor) of Egypt and gained the rank of Pasha.

As Wāli, Ali attempted to modernize Egypt by instituting dramatic reforms in the military, economic and cultural spheres. He also initiated a violent purge of the Mamluks, consolidating his rule and permanently ending the Mamluk hold over Egypt.

Militarily, Ali recaptured the Arabian territories for the sultan, and conquered Sudan of his own accord. His attempt at suppressing the Greek rebellion failed decisively, however, following an intervention by the European powers at Navarino. In 1831, Ali waged war against the sultan, capturing Syria, crossing into Anatolia and directly threatening Constantinople, but the European powers forced him to retreat. After a failed Ottoman invasion of Syria in 1839, he launched another invasion of the Ottoman Empire in 1840; he defeated the Ottomans again and opened the way towards a capture of Constantinople. Faced with another European intervention, he accepted a brokered peace in 1842 and withdrew from the Levant; in return, he and his descendants were granted hereditary rule over Egypt and Sudan. His dynasty would rule Egypt for over a century, until the revolution of 1952 when King Farouk was overthrown by the Free Officers Movement led by Mohamed Naguib and Gamal Abdel Nasser, establishing the Republic of Egypt.

[whencyclopedia]

Alexandria: The City that Changed the World

"Alexandria: The City That Changed the World" by Islam Issa is a biography of a city. It explores the history of Alexandria, Egypt, and its place in our collective memory. It is in part history book, essay, and travel guide, suitable for casual readers. Issa covers up to the 1952 Egyptian Revolution through the lens of his family history. Along the way, he describes the physical city, from the waterfront Qaitbay Citadel where the Lighthouse of Alexandria once stood to the congested downtown.

The book begins with Alexandria's founding by Alexander the Great after he conquered the Persian Empire. Like its legendary namesake, the city was destined for fame. Its strategic and symbolic value made it a coveted prize of world conquerors like Augustus, Napoleon Bonaparte, and Admiral Nelson. The city witnessed the death of Cleopatra, Christianity's triumph over paganism, the rise of the Islamic Caliphates, and the Industrial Age. Even today, Alexandria is an important center of trade, culture, and industry.

The Ptolemaic dynasty, who ruled Egypt in the interim between Alexander and the Roman Empire, transformed it into their crown jewel. Through institutions like the Library of Alexandria, the city became a capital of knowledge and scholarly collaboration. The combined civilizational heritage of East and West birthed a unique urban culture and architectural marvels. This wealth and cosmopolitanism attracted the artistic and scholarly communities that shaped the city's image.

Issa is a professor of literature and history at Birmingham City University, and his family lived in Alexandria for generations. The result of his experience is a powerful monograph on the city’s cultural significance. It is firmly rooted in historical fact, and it is easy to pick up on Alexandria's personal importance to the author. In the prologue, he recalls his father's old stories about Alexandria's former glory, and how they took on new significance for him as he confronted the legacy of Alexandria as an adult. The memory of the ancient city lives on as part of Egypt’s national mythology, inspiring modern-day monuments and legends.

Rather than repeating myths, Issa seeks to critically examine them in light of factual evidence, allowing both the real and imaginary Alexandria to exist side-by-side. At the beginning of the book, there is a series of maps depicting the city at different points in time, from its foundation to the 21st century. It also contains a collection of photographs, some capturing the city today and others portraying its historical sites and artifacts. While intended for casual readers, the book has endnotes and a bibliography to point readers in the direction of further study.

The author concludes the book with an examination of Alexandria's identity and Egyptian national identity in the present day. In contemporary Egypt, there is broad support for historical preservation, but politics determine which histories are deemed worthy of preservation and which are censored. Environmental changes and the rapid construction of an ever-growing modern metropolis on top of the ancient city threaten archaeological efforts. As has been true since the city’s foundation, what is believed about Alexandria’s past – and what it means to be Alexandrian – is constantly changing.

Continue reading...

[porcelainseashore]

Pleasure - Lettow Kaminsky

Commissioned art by @medeaft

Author's Note: Lettow is a character I’ve always wanted to write for, so it was only fitting that the prompt, Guided by Pleasure, inspired me to finally attempt a piece. It might be rough around the edges, but I found meaning in the overall process.

What are the things that bring one pleasure? Lettow reflects on his past life in an effort to find the answer.

Content Warnings: Brief references to violence, depression, suicide by proxy, Aila mention, war.

An Elder. 

That’s what they call us these nights. I haven’t gotten used to it; I don’t think I ever will. It is a word that has connotations. As for what they are, I will let you decide. They say I am a creature of habit, a creature tied to the past, and perhaps they are right.

I remember events of my former life as if it were yesterday. The feeble trappings of youth born into privilege, where the world lay naked before me with so much hope and potential. Pleasure, when my eyes trailed the curls in her hair, the curve of her waist, settling on her shy, bright smile. Her upper lip covered a section of her teeth; she didn’t like the way her gums showed when she pulled it back. A brief pause—before she would place a hand before her mouth in childlike embarrassment.

Our world was filled with clandestine meetings. The velvet night sky covered in a blanket of stars. Sweet whispers of promised love under the shade of a silver birch tree. The smell of wintergreen in the twilight hours, freshly-cut grass and morning dew. Spring. The days grew light and crisp. Early morning rays filtered through veils of gossamer mist that steamed from the ebony earth. There was movement in the forest again. I truly believed I would wed then.

I remember wild horses in the lowland plains. We tracked a herd of them all the way along the winding belt of the lake. Hooves galloping on soft ground like the rhythmic beating of my excited heart. Every once in a while they would greet us with a majestic sign of their rearing. I was still a boy back then, and I thought like one. Ruddy and hot-blooded. Eager for a taste of adventure. We followed them until they grew tired and slow. Presented food and water as peace offerings, moving like statues so they wouldn’t spook.

I went out to find them every day, until they came to find me instead. They knew they would be fed well and groomed. We observed each other with measured steps, like in a period of courtship, and one-by-one they allowed me to inhabit their world. I led them by the halter to the corrals we had built, talked with them as they neighed in response. The others said my methods would take too long, but I wanted to earn their trust. And that I did. The most feral of the lot I named Napoleon.

I remember the first time I flew. I never thought I would live to see the age of aviation, but here I was. The gust in my face and the whir of the engines so loud they drowned out any sound in my surroundings. I was wrapped up in a protective bubble of white noise. The air became thinner the higher I rose in altitude, but no less difficult to breathe. Through my goggles, I could make out endless miles of clouds in the vast horizon, tasting them like icicles on my tongue as I passed by. This was my world now—this beautiful, strange stratosphere that reflected the oceans below.

We trained under the cover of night at one of the civilian schools. Boxed up in small, rudimentary planes that rattled you to the core and threatened to fall apart. It was unorthodox, but we improvised. Nothing that a simple bribe or other machinations couldn’t fix. I was, by that time, what I am at present, which had both its benefits and drawbacks in the war. Perhaps I have retained whatever human that is left inside of me, since from time to time I thirst for battle, just like the appetites of mankind have for centuries, unsated.

I served in the French Air Force during the First World War by choice, flying infant Nieuports before the SPAD S.XIIIs streamed in, their synchronized twin Vickers ripping into rival aircrafts at record-breaking speed. I rode the SPAD like I would with Napoleon, faster than the wind, weaving through jet streams like a paintbrush on canvas, dipping, twisting, and soaring across the sky as though I were a danseur étoile. I can tell you now that it was by far the most glorious feeling I have ever experienced. I learned to fly before I learned to drive, and I have never regretted it.

And then, there was Aila. I remember her so vividly I can feel her very presence in this room, hiding behind one of the doors; I just need to open the right one. An ocean of memories she left behind, scattered among the trinkets and mementos that line the hall. Flying led me to her, and she, in turn, led me out of the desert. The desert where we had walked for miles under the pale moonlight, licking our wounds as we grew mad with hunger. We lived several lifetimes together, wandering across the world like there was no tomorrow, claiming every piece of uncharted territory for ourselves, all because of that fateful night. It was highly irresponsible and romantic. It was our way of staving off the inevitable—what was another couple of decades when we had an eternity to fill?

I remember her rich dark skin, basking in the bronze glow of her almond-shaped eyes, peeking out from beneath the brim of her straw sun hat. They were proud and fearless as they should be. Her flowy linen dress. White on white, matching mine. Yet turquoise is the color that reminds me of her. The cool slab of robin egg blue against my skin quelling the fire. Sky blue. Her happiest moments were in the air, nimble hands on the controls, and she laughed as though she still had a heart. It’s the small details that I remember, these curious, odd specificities. Sometimes, I think she merely entertained me, but it didn’t matter. My world was Aila’s and hers was mine.

But happiness, like spring, is fleeting. The girl I was betrothed to became something other than herself. A sick rot festered from within, permeating between the cracks of her skull. She ate like a bird. Whiled away the hours in bed. I could not rouse her from her listless slumber. The Devil whispered silent words in her ear, had her mind in its pestilent grip, until she could no longer bear it. There was no way out. No other way than to drown a child in the nearby river so as to guarantee her finality. They have a name for it these days, but in that period, austerity and fear were all we had ever known. At her beheading, the local folk threw coins onto the scaffold for a chance to dip their handkerchiefs in her blood. I wept bitterly in the corner. Dead foliage rustled in the breeze. Fall had arrived, and I had failed to prevent it.

I had nothing left to lose in the uprising against the partitioning powers. As I said, I was young and foolish then. I fantasized about the victory of battle, as well as the honor of dying in one. It was the only way I would be willing to go. But even that was robbed from me. Napoleon was my war horse, and together, we became part of the doomed cavalry. The follies of idealism, but perhaps in hindsight, it might have been my subconscious wish to die. As we lay fallen, the smell of gunpowder and sweat hung heavy in the air, with only the sound of our ragged breathing for company. I felt the life drain out of me onto the mud and rubble as my hand made a bloody imprint on Napoleon’s side. It had been sliced open, brutally, without care. I heard him sputtering; he was cold. My fingers were turning to ice. The massacre before me faded into darkness.

I was Embraced around the same time my country died. Since then, I have fought countless wars, each more unlovely than the other. I no longer dreamed of being heralded as its champion. New leaders were ushered into power vacuums, only to be dethroned the next day by their associates. I had seen it all, played out again and again—the drudgery of senseless wars and the stench of death. Among mortals, among Kindred. Even flying could not console me from the fact that we were no better than beasts. I have killed hundreds from my time in the air force alone, shot down children manning machines that were not fitted to size, and I have always regretted it.

The war led me to Aila, and she, in turn, led me into the new world. Perhaps we could finally leave the past behind. I showered myself in turquoise; we made plans to travel, to always be on the move, like the bieguni—the runners, who avoided the Devil by staying in no place for any significant amount of time. I should have known that it would be all the time that we had. Every place that we went to, everything that we loved and cherished, was burned and razed to the ground. We could not escape from the aftermath of the seeds we had planted. Fall returned, and I saw the light from her eyes extinguish. She found no pleasure, no meaning, in anything. I recognized the signs in her as clear as day from my first love, but I had failed to prevent it. 

White on white.

I buried her in the West, under a city built upon another desert. Lake blue stones on her eyes and in her mouth. Yet, even what remained of her was wrested from me��

You see, I have come to realize the cycle we are trapped in. Things change, memories fade, love is fickle, cities crumble, new leaders arise. But it all leads back to the pendulum between pleasure and misery. Being an Elder doesn’t mean being out of touch. Being Elder means you have the foresight to know what will happen next. Because history repeats itself time and time again.

I am Lettow of Bracław and I remember, I remember.

Dividers by @diableriedoll

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Galileo Galilei Main Story

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

Mitsuki: "Ah…"

Galileo: "Haah."

His cold fingers dug into my neck, and his hot breath tickled my skin.

His fangs sank deeply, and the pain transformed into pleasure.

(If this continues…)

My consciousness started to fade, and I could hardly resist anymore.

Galileo: "Guh. Haah…"

Mitsuki: *coughs, coughs*

Suddenly, he groaned and let go of my body.

As soon as I collapsed onto the floor, air flowed into my throat, and I took a moment to catch my breath, coughing all the while.

(What just happened?)

When I looked at him, he was also breathing heavily.

Galileo: "Why? Why can't I kill you?"

His eyes, filled with anguish, glared at me.

Galileo: "Could it be that interfering with you affects fate? Is that why I'm being stopped?"

Galileo: "Is that the law of the world?"

Galileo: "Am I forever to be denied by fate?"

Mitsuki: "Galileo."

Not understanding what he was saying, I reached out involuntarily at his pained expression, but he brushed my hand away.

Galileo: "Even if I can't kill you, my goal is right before me."

Galileo: "I will end everything, so you should just watch silently."

Galileo: "I'll say it again and again. You are powerless."

Mitsuki: ".........."

He told me this to break my spirit and left the room.

I sat there, my gaze wandering.

(He really intended to kill me.)

As my dazed mind regained its senses, tears ran down my cheeks.

(No matter how much I try to understand him, if he hates me enough to kill me and rejects me, I can never touch his heart.)

The overwhelming sadness threatened to crush my chest, and tears continued to fall.

Leaving Mitsuki behind, Galileo came to the inner courtyard. There, where red flowers bloomed, he collapsed to his knees.

Galileo: "I won't be swayed."

Galileo: "Destruction is the only thing I truly desire."

His murmur faded into the air, and the red flowers swayed sadly.

After that, I returned to the mansion without Galileo's permission to flee from his hatred.

Three days after the commotion in the slums, we held Mireia's funeral.

Napoleon: "I brought Miguel here earlier. I thought I'd let him be alone with his sister."

Jean: "But it's about time. Could you go and check on him?"

Mitsuki: "Sure."

I entered the church and saw a small coffin placed in the spot where the light from the window shone down.

Miguel, sitting beside the coffin, was gazing into it with his blue eyes.

Mitsuki: "Miguel."

When I called out to him, he turned to look at me.

Miguel: "It's time, isn't it?"

As he stood up and came closer, he looked straight at me.

Miguel: "Thank you, big sis."

Mitsuki: "Huh?"

Miguel: "When I said I would take revenge on the hunters, you stopped me."

Miguel gently narrowed his eyes.

Miguel: "Honestly, I still hate them. I think this feeling will never go away."

Miguel: "But after hearing what you said, I want to think about Mireia instead of filling my heart with hatred."

Miguel: "I want to be a kind person, just like you and Mireia."

Mitsuki: "Miguel."

Miguel: "Thank you for trying to protect the me that Mireia loved so much."

He smiled shyly but still looked lonely.

(How many emotions are swirling inside this child right now?)

Anger, hatred, and sadness.

But perhaps his love for those dear to him is dissolving these negative emotions, slowly healing his wounded heart.

Seeing Miguel like this seems to save even me.

【I'll say it again and again. You are powerless.】

(That’s right, I'm powerless. I wanted to help, but there was nothing I could do. However, there was someone who listened to my voice.)

Mitsuki: "No, I just wanted you to be yourself."

Mitsuki: "Miguel, it's amazing that you accepted my voice and Mireia's feelings."

Miguel: "You think so? I won't forget your words or Mireia's."

Miguel: "And I won't forget the days I spent with her."

With tears in our eyes, we smiled at each other, and I suddenly thought,

(Did Galileo have someone like this when he was in pain? Someone who could gently soothe his wounds?)

Lost in thought, Miguel turned back to the coffin.

Miguel: "Rest in peace, Mireia."

He placed a bright red flower beside the coffin.

Mitsuki: "Miguel, where did you get that flower?"

Miguel: "It was on the coffin when I came to the church this morning."

Miguel: "I thought maybe the priest or someone from the mansion had placed it there."

(That's not it. There's only one place where that red flower blooms.)

The beautiful yet sorrowful garden where the remains of the Dhampir rest.

(Could it be that this flower is from Galileo?)

(Did he secretly come here to place a flower on the coffin, even though he seemed unfazed by the deaths of others?)

(I don't understand what you're thinking, Galileo.)

(What were you feeling when you placed that flower here?)

I didn't understand, yet seeing the flower tightened my chest.

(I can't give up.)

(I want to know what you're thinking, your feelings when you placed that flower here, what led you to destruction, and what you truly desire.)

(I want to touch the real you.)

After the flowers drifted and the funeral bells echoed in the sky, I went to the Seine River with a certain resolve.

(He might be here.)

Mitsuki: "Drake!"

When I called out, Drake's eyes slightly widened before he gave a wry smile.

Drake: "Hey, runaway girl. I thought you'd never show up in front of us again."

Drake: "You ran away yourself, so what do you want?"

Mitsuki: "I need to ask you a favor."

I stared back at Drake, not letting his words get to me.

Mitsuki: "I want you to lend me the harness you're wearing."

The harnesses that Galileo and Drake wear stabilize the space beyond the door.

(With that, I can...)

Drake: "You intend to go through that door, little fawn?"

I nodded, and Drake's eyes silently asked, "Why?"

Without looking away from his gaze, I spoke up.

Mitsuki: "I've always wanted to understand Galileo."

Mitsuki: "He told me to see the truth with my own eyes; that's why I've been watching him closely since then."

(Sometimes, I end up hurting him.)

Mitsuki: "But I still haven't gotten close to him. Focusing only on the present isn't enough."

Mitsuki: "Without knowing the truth, no words of mine will ever reach him. That's why I want to know what happened in his past."

When I said this without any pretense, Drake's eyebrows furrowed slightly.

Drake: "Don't you think using that door is cheating?"

Mitsuki: "I do."

(Peeking into someone's past without permission shouldn't be allowed.)

Especially for Galileo. 

His past was so painful that he wanted to erase and deny it.

(But...)

When I recalled his fragile, tormented figure,

(I can't afford to be picky about the methods.)

Mitsuki: "I know it's unfair to try to understand Galileo this way."

Mitsuki: "But I feel that only by seeing and accepting all of his past with my own eyes can I finally touch his true heart."

Drake: "............"

Drake gazed at me as if trying to discern something.

More than anything, my heart was now directed towards Galileo, driven by a sense of justice.

Drake: "I see."

Drake: "I guess I've also gotten caught up with the woman of destiny."

Mitsuki: "What do you mean by that?"

Without answering my question, he removed his cloak and threw the harness toward me.

Drake: "Alright. I'll lend this to you, Mitsuki."

Drake: "Let's see your desperate struggle, shall we?"

After that, I returned to the mansion and went to the door without anyone noticing.

I put on the harness I borrowed from Drake, took a deep breath, and looked at the door.

(I’m now heading to Galileo’s past.)

I heard that this door responds to strong feelings.

My feelings for him will be my only guide to this door that connects to any country and any era.

(Galileo's past is connected to his goal of destruction. To stop that and to protect him, I need to see the truth with my own eyes.)

I reached out and opened the heavy door.

Meanwhile, at that moment,

Galileo: "Ugh, haah, haah."

Drake: "You okay, Galileo?!"

The door opened, and Galileo appeared from beyond.

Drake, supporting his staggering body, clicked his tongue at the sight of him breathing heavily.

Drake: "You went out on the night of the lunar eclipse. If things were gonna turn out like this, I should've been there to help you right from the start."

Galileo: "I told you, Drake. If we both collapse, it’d be meaningless."

Galileo: "Also, because we share the same wish, we can mercilessly abandon each other if something happens."

Drake: "You're right."

Galileo: "Besides, I finally found it."

Drake: "So it’s finally time."

Galileo: "Yeah. Now, we just have to wait for the moon to rise."

Galileo, after calming his breath a bit, suddenly noticed something.

Galileo: "Where's your harness, Drake?"

Drake: "I lent it to Mitsuki."

Galileo: "What?"

Drake smiled wryly and furrowed his eyebrows.

Drake: "Don't give me that look. She seemed dead serious about struggling, like a fawn ready to fight."

Drake: "She wants to see your past and protect you."

His purple eyes trembled ever so slightly.

But the momentary hesitation vanished in a blink of an eye.

Galileo: "Protect me? What good does protecting me do?"

Drake: "........."

Galileo: "Whether she's the woman of destiny or not, it doesn't matter. I won't be swayed by her, ever."

As each held steadfast to their feelings, midnight was about to fall.

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[portraitsofsaints]

Happy Feast Day

Saint Gaspar del Bufalo

1786 - 1837

Feast Day: January 2

Founder of the Society of the Precious Blood

As an infant Saint Gaspar del Bufalo suffered from an eye condition that threatened to blind him; he was cured in 1788 following prayers for the intervention of Saint Francis Xavier. After the occupation of Rome by the French, on four separate occasions, Gaspar refused to take the oath of allegiance to Emperor Napoleon out of loyalty to the Pope and the Church. He was exiled and imprisoned due to these refusals. After being liberated, he helped formally start the Missioners of the Precious Blood (C.P.P.S.) in 1815 at Giano dell’ Umbria, Italy, a congregation devoted to preaching and to bring the sacraments back to war-torn Italy.

Prints, plaques & holy cards available for purchase. (website)