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[pilferingapples]

you can tell most people tell jokes about the digressions without reading the book because they complain about Waterloo, which has battles and plot-essential character development and obvious themes, and not Argot, which has , uh this:

“My shooting-iron,” the cavalry-man who says: “My turkey-cock,” the fencing-master who says: “Tierce, quarte, break,” the printer who says: “My shooting-stick and galley,”—all, printer, fencing-master, cavalry dragoon, infantry-man, phrenologist, huntsman, philosopher, comedian, playwright, sheriff, gambler, stock-broker, and merchant, speak slang. The painter who says: “My grinder,” the notary who says: “My Skip-the-Gutter,” the hairdresser who says: “My mealyback,” the cobbler who says: “My cub,” talks slang. Strictly speaking, if one absolutely insists on the point, all the different fashions of saying the right and the left, the sailor’s port and starboard, the scene-shifter’s court-side, and garden-side, the beadle’s Gospel-side and Epistle-side, are slang. There is the slang of the affected lady as well as of the précieuses. The Hotel Rambouillet nearly adjoins the Cour des Miracles. There is a slang of duchesses, witness this phrase contained in a love-letter from a very great lady and a very pretty woman of the Restoration: “You will find in this gossip a fultitude of reasons why I should libertize.” Diplomatic ciphers are slang; the pontifical chancellery by using 26 for Rome, grkztntgzyal for despatch, and abfxustgrnogrkzu tu XI. for the Duc de Modena, speaks slang. The physicians of the Middle Ages who, for carrot, radish, and turnip, said Opoponach, perfroschinum, reptitalmus, dracatholicum, angelorum, postmegorum, talked slang. The sugar-manufacturer who says: “Loaf, clarified, lumps, bastard, common, burnt,”—this honest manufacturer talks slang. A certain school of criticism twenty years ago, which used to say: “Half of the works of Shakespeare consists of plays upon words and puns,”—talked slang.

yeah it's about slang

the whole chapter

[onboardsorasora]

Sorry this took so long @mael-talks-too-much !

Hidden pregnancy au pt 1 | Part 3

Daniel pulled on one of Lewis’ pre-scented tshirts while he walked into the living room to the chaos unfolding. Having the guys over to help them get settled had been the best and worst decision of his life.

Lewis had to make up for all of the engagements he cancelled at the last minute at the GP and so he’d been in and out while they settled in a new hotel room in the middle of Melbourne.

Scotty had immediately offered to help watch Ava while Daniel handled the logistics of both moving to Monaco and following Lewis along to the grands prix. That had been fine by him, Blake had nodded that it was a good idea, an extra set of eyes and hands for the rambunctious infant who seemed to jump to a new level of active since she bonded with her alpha daddy.

Daniel never knew his nipples could be this sore.

Ava was growing, and moving and shaking and attempting to roll over because she was already addicted to the happy sounds and smells of Lewis when she breathed in his general direction. Well, she got the peacocking gene down.

Daniel side stepped the play area set up in the living room to warm a bottle.

“Good girl Ava!” Miles’ voice carried as he cheered, “Of course I expected no less from my goddaughter.”

“Whoa whoa bud, remember Daniel already agreed that I’m her godfather.” Scotty piped up and Daniel heard Blake’s groan and he laughed because that was also a new problem they had.

Miles and Scotty were determined to be the godfather and won’t accept the both of them sharing the honour.

It really didn’t matter though, because in the end, Ava’s godfather was Blake. Blake was there with him every step of the way, the hard days and long nights. Blake was the first to hold her because Daniel had been too out of it on meds for his arms to work right.

Plus there was paperwork and notaries involved.

The door beeped open just as Daniel was satisfied with the temperature of the bottle and Lewis grinned as the door closed behind him. The suite smelt like Pack.

“Hey.” Daniel kissed his cheek and Lewis leaned in for another peck on the lips. Daniel handed over the bottle in his hand and Lewis’ eyes lit up. He enjoyed feedings because it was a moment to bond with Ava. He loved how her big eyes stayed on him the entire time while he whispered his love.

“Are they arguing again?” Lewis shook his head as the now familiar refrains washed over him.

“When are they never?” Blake pointed out. Lewis merely laughed and walked into the living room to scoop his cooing daughter up and away from the squabbling of her uncles.

— - —

Lewis looked down at the precious bundle in his arms, she cooed at him around her fist, blinking up with brown eyes identical to his. He’d always thought he understood the term ‘heart outside your body’ because that’s how he felt about Roscoe and Coco. Losing Coco had been like losing a part of him.

Ava was his literal pride and joy. She was the child he never knew he wanted or had but now that she was here, she had already wrapped her little tanned arms around his heart and she was never letting her go.

He shifted the sleeve of her outfit, the purple onesie a miniature version of his shirt. Daniel had giggled when the package had come from Dior, before teasingly asking how many back up outfits were also sent.

“We showed your mama haven’t we?” Lewis murmured, leaning over to kiss Ava’s forehead. Well sue him for wanting daddy daughter outfits, they hadn’t had one spit up incident yet. He looked up to see Daniel talking animatedly with the nurse, handing over the paperwork that would intake Ava as their new patient here in Monaco.

There was the sharp odor of bile and Lewis chuckled to see the once pristine onesie covered in spit up. Daniel said nothing when he walked over, merely handing the package of wipes with a smug grin.

“All good?” Lewis nodded to the front desk, eager to distract.

“Yeah, they're gonna like check back with the pediatrician in Perth but we should be good for her to get her shots today.”

“What if she cries?” Lewis pulled Ava closer, that was his big fear– that she would be terrified.

“She didn’t cry the last time. Its over pretty quickly normally.” Daniel shrugged. He’d cried the last time, seeing the scary needle going into her arm had maybe traumatized him.

“You just have to like promise to not attack the nurses. They might ask you to sign a waiver apparently.”

“What?”

“She said it's standard procedure, alpha dads get…. mean.”

“I’m not gonna attack a nurse.”

“I never said you were, I’m just telling you what they told me.” Daniel bit back his smile at Lewis’ put out expression, some would even call it a pout.

“Ava Hamilton?” A nurse called and the pair stood. Lewis exhaled out his anxiety, it would be fine.

The doctor’s office was pretty standard with charts and a table. Lewis was instructed to sit on a chair by the table while their doctor looked over Ava’s vitals.

She fussed a little at the chill of the stethoscope but otherwise she submitted to the shifting and poking of the older beta’s fingers.

“She’s a cutie, and perfectly healthy. Good job mom and dad.” Lewis looked up at Daniel with a grin, seeing the happiness reflected in honey eyes at being told they’re doing a good job.

The part Lewis dreaded was up next, he watched as the nurse set up the syringe. And tensed when she came over. With Lewis’ help, she got Ava’s shoulder out of her onesie and wiped it down with antiseptic.

“It won’t be so bad if you don’t look.” Daniel offered, resting a hand on Lewis’ shoulder. He looked over to lock eyes with Daniel and the nurse stuck the needle in while he was distracted. Ava jolted in his arms and made a noise but didn’t cry when Lewis looked at her swiftly.

“There all done!” The nurse said sweetly, grinning at Daniel to thank him.

“You tricked me?” Lewis grumbled, ignoring how the nurse chuckled.

“It worked didn’t it?” Daniel said shamelessly, cooing down at Ava over Lewis’ shoulder.

[urbanrelics]

CHATEAU ROLLS ROYCE

The castle domain was created in the late 18th century. The wealthy notary A.S. started construction of the castle in 1780, originally consisting of a classicist main building, which was symmetrically flanked at the front by two lower, 19th-century side wings and several outbuildings, including a beautiful and almost unique winter garden.

After the death of the notary, the property passed into the hands of his only son, who gave it significant added value by creating an English landscape garden. The surrounding park includes a pond with island and historic duck decoy, beautiful old woodland and a former ice house. When the son also died, the castle remained empty for a while. In 1831, the castle briefly served as the command post of Leopold I, first king of Belgium.

In 1859 the whole was sold to a baron, who used it as a summer residence. In 1909, a wealthy Antwerp banker buys the castle. He builds the two towers that flank the castle. The castle remained in the hands of this family until the mid-1950s. Today, the castle and park are owned by the Luxembourg real estate company, which wants to start a hotel there in the future.

In the urbex scene, this chateau was known as 'Chateau Rolls Royce', for many years, because of the beautiful blue Rolls Royce Silver Shadow. Rolls Royce built the Silver Shadow between 1965 and 1979. At the time, it was the most expensive and luxurious model introduced by Rolls Royce. This particular car was built in 1975 and was first registered in January 1976, as one of the last variants of the model. The colossus, weighing more than two tons, was more than 5 meters long, 1.80 meters wide and had a cylinder capacity of 6,750 CC. It reached a top speed of 205 km/h without much effort.

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[umrahfamilypurbalingga]

Umrah Family merupakan entitas dari Ezkia Barokah Abadi yang berdiri pada 05 Februari 2016 sesuai Akta Pendirian yang disahkan oleh Notaris H.Ade Ardiansyah,S.H.,M.KN, perusahaan yang bergerak di bidang travel untuk menyelenggarakan Umrah dan Haji.Kami berkomitmen memberikan berbagai macam kemudahan kepada calon jama'ah untuk berangkat ke Tanah Suci.Mulai dari pendaftaran,cara pembayaran sampai persiapan keberangkatan umrah maupun haji.Seiring perkembangannya,Umrah Family akan selalu meningkatkan kualitas pelayanan jamaahnya agar khusu'saat menjalankan ibadah.insya Allah kami sahabat terbaik menuju Baitullah,Aman,Nyaman dan Terpercaya Untuk Keluarga Anda.Kami mempunyai visi : Memberikan Kemudahan berangkat umrah serta meningkatkan kemampuan financial untuk kesejahteraan agen syiar.dan Misi kami Dengan menjalankan support system yang telah teruji secara komprehensif dan didukung oleh Lembaga keuangan Syariah.MENGAPA HARUS UMRAH FAMILY???

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[starry-mist]

S5e12 thoughts:

Renee Hackett (Mary) and Kevin Hanchard are on fire in each of their scenes together. They play off each other incredibly well. I’m still looking for a way to watch her show What Odds on which he apparently guest starred. She’s so good.

Five seasons in, they’re finally doing an episode on sexual assault. I commend them for finally tackling that subject matter.

I do not commend Joe for being kind of a jerk with his “none of the allegations were proven” when the team talks about looking into the victims of the dead predator. Yes, Joe, we know, and this is why victims don’t come forward.

I felt they could have hit Sarah’s perspective as the only woman on the team a little harder. Missed opportunity.

Joe in the interrogation room: That’s outside my jurisdiction

Me: But the Mobile Unit…

Show: Hey look, DOGGIE!

Joe having Jesse reassure him about cops not taking victims of sexual assault seriously…that was a little iffy for me.

Sarah and Karma reassuring Joe about his bad dates was also an interesting choice.

Sarah kicking down the door of the hotel room, on the other hand…that worked well.

Same actor, different character: The wife of the philandering dude they take down at the end was previously the dead notary in s3’s Mansion on a Hill.

All in all, a decent episode.

[theculturedmarxist]

by Marat Khairullin

I regularly receive letters from mothers who have lost their children, each of these contains a bitter reproach: “For what has my child perished?”

They usually write about the chaos in the army, about the callousness of officials who cannot or do not even want to find the bodies of a murdered father, son, or brother. I always do my best to explain at least something in general phrases to these grief-stricken people, and I always feel that this is not really enough, but rather very little.

Therefore, today, I want to try to explain my personal reasons for abandoning life in Moscow and why I came to this war to film and write. And then let everyone decide for themselves.

Many years ago, in the first half of the 1990s (I was a correspondent for a central newspaper then), I was chased around a small Ural town by an ethnic gang. I came there to write about the unnamed cemetery for pensioners on the outskirts of this town.

In a very short period of time (just a couple of years) that has passed since Yeltsin’s sovereignty was established in this classic Stalinist industrial town, 136 lonely pensioners had gone missing, and their apartments had changed ownership.

I was hidden [by people who assisted] in a huge administrative building of a deceased giant of Soviet industry.

We were sitting in the abandoned director’s office; a luxurious oil portrait of Lenin hung on the wall. We were burning candles (there was no electricity in the whole city) and drank filthy vodka.

They know everyone on the list, local police officer always comes first, and then the person disappears, after that they immediately clean the apartment up, and the next day they move in, the body of the person has not yet cooled down, but they are already in charge … Oh son, how scary it has become to live in the country … – Vladimir Mironovich, a veteran of the Great Patriotic War, who gave most of his life to that same industrial giant, on whose cooling corpse we then were drinking alcohol told me.

A local police officer had already visited him and as Mironych [shorter of Mironovich, more informal, represents the name of the person’s father] said himself, he is still alive only thanks to the unexpected arrival of a correspondent from Moscow.

I don’t know if it was true or not. But I made a mistake – immediately upon arrival, I went to the head of the city police with a letter from Mironych. They greeted me very cordially, surprisingly rolled their eyes, complained about all sorts of crazy people writing nonsense to the central newspapers, but promised to definitely look into it.

And literally a couple of hours later at my hotel, these guys in a Mercedes appeared. They were well-fed, calm, and very noticeable. They were absolute masters here – they drank from the administrator’s cup at the counter, good-naturedly joked with prostitutes in the hotel lobby, and pretended not to look in my direction.

Mironych immediately identified that they were after me, staged a whole operation, shook them off our tail, and hid me in the empty and dark building of his native factory where, while washing down his story with bitter vodka, he gave me a complete picture of the gang operating in the city, which notary forged documents and registered the apartments of the missing old people (by the way, she was the wife of that same police chief I visited before), who registered the property rights in the city real estate department (by the way, she was the wife of the city mayor – visiting him was my next obligatory task in my investigation), and who strangled the victims. Mironych even knew that missing old people all got strangled and then buried in a suburban forest – by those same smiling murderers that we’d seen in the hotel lobby.

But if you think that all this shocked me, despite being just a kid, then you are mistaken. I received dozens, if not hundreds of letters with similar emotional cries – thousands and thousands of people in those years, desperate to find the truth from the authorities, wrote to journalists. Therefore, I was not horrified by what was happening, I was already used to it.

The cruelty of the local gang described in Mironych’s letter – that was my main interest as a reporter. Lonely old people who remembered the Great Patriotic War (World War Two) were evicted from their apartments throughout all the Russia. I wrote so much material about this that the editorial offices where I worked simply stopped accepting these stories from me – they became something commonplace, no matter how creepy it may sound – just a sign of life.

This happened everywhere – Moscow, Balashikha, Saint Petersburg, Ufa, Kazan, Vladivostok … but in big cities, old people were spared, forced to assign these damned apartments to new owners, and then evicted to live in some abandoned villages. In small towns, old people were simply mowed down.

Early in the morning, Mironych asked his friend to take me out of the city in the trunk of his car.

“You know, I never cried during the war, but here … I cried from powerlessness” – he waved his hand and hugged me: “Thank you, son, and goodbye … Write about all that there …”

So many years have passed, but Mironych’s face, with tears and despair in his eyes, stands clearly in front of me – saying goodbye. This strong man was sure that he was already doomed. And he was ready for this – the old front-line soldier was preparing to die proudly, without complaint. And the only thing he asked God for was for his story to be heard at last … This cannot be confused with anything else.

This story did not end well at all. I even haven’t written the article – my department editor waved his hand tiredly: “Forget it, you can’t prove anything anyway, there are no documents, they’ll sue you …”

Later, American journalist Paul Khlebnikov – a good friend of mine – in his book alleged that Boris Yeltsin personally had to be held accountable for hundreds of thousands of murdered pensioners.

We met several times and had many discussions on this topic; I gave him part of my archive and, being a bit groggy, I told a good joke (as it then seemed to me): “Watch out, they might kill you for that …” Pasha just grinned back.

And after the book had been released, he was murdered …

And for some reason, I immediately thought that it was precisely because of the words that he would never forgive Boris Yeltsin for the death of these hundreds of thousands of old people abandoned to the mercy of fate …

So my dear mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers – your relatives did not perish simply to make sure that our lonely old people would no longer be killed in the thousands for the sake of their miserable apartments. No, my dears, if the Ukrainians and the West behind them win and come back to our country, they will kill you and me, not only the old people …

Believe me, that very horror, that we, immersed in the comfort, dared to forget, will return … Was there something more about the horror? Let’s remember …

It so happened that I have spent the whole of my youth on endless business trips around the once great country where Democracy and Yeltsin had won. And I have endless memories of the nightmare which I have witnessed, lived through, and felt with all the fullness of my senses. For example, about the fact that back in the 1990s in Russia, more than a million people died from alcoholism and causes directly related to alcohol. Mostly men were the victims, and they were also someone’s sons, fathers, and brothers. Like the fact that every year somewhere between 30 to 50 thousand people got killed in road accidents, and the biggest part of it was that the killer drivers had not even been subjected to criminal liability or hadn’t gone to trial.

And, as far as I remember, starting from the year 1997, the UN annually issued a special report on torture in the police (“militia” at the time) – this, of course, was an unfriendly move by the United States, nevertheless, it spoke about the state of the law enforcement system in the country. At the same time, more than a thousand people annually died from the bullets of murderers on the streets of the capital city of my tortured country.

And in the very year when Putin became prime minister [1999], another terrible study was released which stated that every third girl in Russia under the age of 18 had experienced “commercial sex”. This is how Western researchers found a tolerant term to label prostitution in our country. In addition, at the end of the century, the black market for organ transplants in our country was estimated at a monstrous figure for those times – a billion dollars per year. About 20 thousand Russians annually were “dismantled for spare parts”… Everything was used, even lymphatic fluid; Western perfume giants used to buy it with enthusiasm … And again same monstrously polite formulation: “without the consent of donors”.

There also used to be a slave market in Russia (about 15 thousand Russians were sold annually without their consent) and a special market for sexual slavery – according to various estimates, up to half a million of our girls were held “against their will” in foreign brothels …

And there was also the Chechen war, which I can endlessly write about … And so on and so forthn…

And, my dear readers, for you these are just numbers, but all these years I have been traveling around the Great Country and writing articles about these crippled destinies. I looked in the eyes of these numbers, smiled at them, drank with them, sometimes even had affairs, and wrote and wrote …

And you know, for some reason, I was a very callous person then, I almost never cried … I remember only one such case …

It was some kind of God-forgotten town, an eternal “polustanok” [waypoint] on one of the endless outskirts of Russia.

Misha the geologist was, you know, one of those bright and quiet Russian idealists who somehow turn up spontaneously in all the corners of our holy country – people like these are the most conscientious people who wrote to me then, they did not ask for anything for themselves, but only had their souls aching for their neighbors.

This is the kind of person who wrote me a letter, and I arrived, and we went to the local “Aniskin” [Fyodor Ivanovich Aniskin district police officer “village detective” – fictional character by Vil Lipatov] – an older district police officer named Kuzmich.

He had been listening to me, he listened for a long time and looked into my face. Finally, he smiled wryly: “So you want to have a look, correspondent, well, let’s go and have a look …”

We walked on a clear and very cold night between two railway tracks on where freight trains stood. And suddenly Kuzmich rushed somewhere to the side, between the carriages, we caught up with him only when he was already dragging a kicking lump out of some hole.

“Don’t you scratch, little devil, you know I won’t do anything …” – Kuzmich groaned, bringing out a grimy kid at most 8~10 years old into the light of the moon.

“Let’s go” – Kuzmich pushed him a bit roughly in the back, he obediently trotted off …

In a basement “kaptyorka” [storage room] Kuzmich spoke just as sternly: “This is Aska. Take off your jacket”, he warned us, “Beware of lice …” He took out the sausage and bread, cut it and muttered to the boy again: “Eat”. He sat down on a chair and lit a cigarette, and told me: “Wait, that’s not all …”

The boy obediently took the sandwich and began eating it quietly, the three of us smoked in silence and looked at him … Then the door suddenly opened slightly and a girl of about six slipped through the crack and sat down next to Aska and took his hand.

“Here, meet Sima”, Kuzmich grinned: “I have about thirty of them running around the station here, but these ones are in love … Real love, they hold on to each other – she works in the carriages with shift workers, and this one guards her … Yes Seraphim? How much did you do today? Come on eat …”

Sima just bowed her head and began to smile at the floor quietly … Even then I noted what a nice, childlike smile she had …

“That’s how it is here, correspondent, the nearest orphanage is half a thousand miles away … Yes, they escape from there … Where to place them … No one cares about them …”

And we had a serious conversation with Kuzmich, the children ate, drank tea, and immediately went to sleep right on the chairs …

And we all smoked, talked, and sat until the frosty morning, which the surrounding huts look like these are hanging by the smoke attached to the red sky. And then I left.

And a few months later I received a letter from Misha.

Sima, while working in the carriage, was dragged by passing shift workers, Aska rushed with a knife to defend her … Kids got thrown out of the carriage at full speed …

The broken bodies of the children were found thirty kilometers from the halt station, a criminal case wasn’t initiated, and Kuzmich was eventually expelled from the police for drunkenness …

That’s when I started crying. The only letter that made me cry, I think …

But that’s not what I’m talking about …

My dears, everyone who writes and does not write letters to me with bitter reproach that their children, brothers, fathers died in a war that was foreign to them. No, my dear ones, they died so that there would be as few numbers like described before as possible in our country … Because if the Ukrainians take over, then this damned Democracy return.

And then Mironych, Aska and Sima will definitely not forgive us all … And so, while we are still fighting, there is a chance that God and the millions of innocents killed by Yeltsin’s inhuman regime behind him will forgive us all.

Although, to be honest, I don’t know this for sure, I just believe in it. And so, I left my life in Moscow and now I live here, in the war, and I dream of forgetting the Russia of my youth, through which I wandered, as if knee-deep in endless human grief …

Personally, I am fighting here as best I can for this reason, and letting the rest decide for themselves …

[frevandrest]

do u have any info on Thèrése Gellé and SJ's relationship?

I have all the info there is! Which... is not much. What we know is that something likely did exist in terms of a romantic relationship in their teens (and maybe later, but that one is not proven). Some things could be extrapolated from little that we know, but we have only a few facts. What we know is the following:

Thérèse Gellé was born in 1766 in Blérancourt, as an illegitimate child of a local merchantess and a powerful royal notary Gellé. She was legitimized at 12, when her parents married each other.

SJ moved to Blérancourt at the age of 9. Thérèse was 10. We don't know when they met but since this was a super small community, I assume they knew each other (or at least, knew of each other) as kids.

At some point during their teen years, they seemed to have started a romantic relationship. There are no concrete sources for it except that it’s generally accepted that it happened. What we know is that in December 1785, they were godparents to a child in the village. Some historians see this as a sign that they were seen as a future married couple and chosen together because of this. I am not sure how sound this theory is, but I do think it’s interesting that they were chosen together.  Interestingly, most of the proof/sources for the relationship come from SJ’s early writing (namely, Organt and Arlequin-Diogène). While Thérèse is not mentioned by name, the context and certain (auto)biographical details that appear in these works strongly point out that the main female characters were based on her. (If anyone wants me to talk about what SJ’s writing (potentially) says of Thérèse and/or their relationship, I’d love to do that - I just have to do it in a different post because this one is getting super long). According to some, SJ asked Gellé for a permission to marry Thérèse and was refused. Not sure if this is true, but since SJ was 18 at the time and still in school, AND not particularly rich, it’s not surprising that Gellé wanted a more “prosperous” option for his daughter. 

Which brings us to 25 July 1786. While SJ was away at the boarding school,  Thérèse married Emmanuel Thorin, a young notary from a rich family. Historians agree that this marriage (done seemingly in a hurry) was specifically to prevent SJ from marrying her.

SJ graduated and returned from school a few weeks later, and he lost it. Reportedly, he had a huge fight with his mother (for not telling him that Thérèse was getting married? For not presenting him as a good option to Gellé?) Soon after, in early September 1786, he took that infamous silver and ran away to Paris. (I assume this episode is familiar. It resulted with his mother putting him in the correctional house where he stayed for six months, until early 1787). 

We don’t know what - if anything - happened between SJ and Thérèse after these events. What we do know is that the Revolution started and Gellé was a royalist who tried to stop revolutionary efforts in the village (he was the one who outed SJ as being too young to be elected for the Legislative Assembly in 1791). So yes, there was a lot of animosity between SJ and Gellé on the political grounds, but we don’t know anything about Thérèse during these years or how she might have reacted to all of this. 

But there is a significant event in summer 1793. On the 7th anniversary of her marriage, Thérèse left Thorin and went to Paris. She stayed in a hotel very close to SJ’s place. We know this because SJ’s friend, Victor Thuillier, wrote a much-quoted letter about it. In the letter, he informs SJ that the village believes that SJ had kidnapped Thérèse (not against her will?) and also gives SJ Thérèse’s address in Paris. To which SJ replied basically: “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Tell everyone (in the village) that it’s not true. I am very busy, bye”. (Not direct quotes - you can read more in the link above, though not sure if it’s the best way to translate these letters). 

Historians are divided over what happened. Those who are sympathetic towards SJ want to defend him against accusations of having an affair with a married woman, so they trust his word on it. Those unsympathetic towards SJ generally think that he lied and that he was totally behind Thérèse’s escape to Paris. But what I am more concerned about is how things worked form Thérèse’s POV. She left her husband, AND the village thought that it was because of SJ. This ruined her reputation beyond repair. Even if she did not cheat on Thorin, she was the one who was seen as leaving. 

As for SJ, nobody really talks about a possibility that he did help her, but not necessarily as a lover but as a friend - he wrote so much about protecting women from abuse and unwanted marriages that it wouldn’t be so impossible that he helped a childhood friend (tbh, it would be more shitty if he refused after writing so much about helping women). As for the affair... We don’t have any proof either way (except his reply to Thuillier). I disagree with historians who claim that “SJ would never”, because most of his writings actually point out that he was fine with women performing marital infidelity and the like. But this is not a proof either. So we just don’t know. 

Thérèse and Thorin had a divorce hearing in September 1793. Historians point out that the reason for the divorce they listed was not adultery, but Thorin didn’t seem to ask for a no-fault, mutual decision divorce either. He seemed to ask or a divorce based on the fact that she left him. In the hearing, Thérèse said that the divorce was mutually desired and she seemed to have asked for her dowry back. Their divorce was decided then, but they had to wait for about 11 months for it to become legal. They were legally divorced in July 1794 (18 days before Thermidor). 

That is basically it. We have no idea if SJ and Thérèse had any contact or what she did between this divorce hearing and Thermidor. We do know that she was kind of shunned in the village, while Thorin remarried and had children. Thérèse died in 1806, at the age of 39. 

There is one thing, written by SJ near Thermidor, that some people argue could be related to Thérèse, but there is absolutely no proof of it: that strange “story” about a lovers’ misunderstanding. It was the last item written in the notebook found on SJ during Thermidor, and it is super unusual because he left no other writing of this kind, but it’s impossible to say whether it has anything to do with  Thérèse or not.

[olivish]

Okay so now I can't stop thinking about Snowpiecer Monopoly. Here's how I would do it, from the properties to the pieces to the "money". Suggestions/ comments welcome :) PROPERTIES: Mediterranean Ave: Breslaur Research Station Baltic Ave: Korean Nuclear Power Plant Oriental Ave: The Swamp Vermont Ave: The Tail Connecticut Ave: Sanitation St Charles Place: Ruth's Subtrain War Room States Ave: The Observation Bubble Virginia Ave: Noodle Bar St James Place: Alex's Workshop Tennessee Ave: The Headwoods' Lab New York Ave: Big Alice Supply Cars Kentucky Ave: Miss Gillies' Classroom Indiana Ave: Katia's Cache of Old World Antiques and Wilford Memorabilia Illinois Ave: The Tea Room Atlantic Ave: AgSec Greenhouses Ventnor Ave: The Aquarium Marvin Gardens: The Nightcar Pacific Ave: The Library North Carolina Ave: First Class Dining Pennsylvania Ave: Hospitality Office & Broadcast Room Park Place: Big Alice's Engine Boardwalk: Snowpiercer's Engine CORNER SQUARES: Go: Mile Zero Jail: The Drawers Free Parking: All Day Autopilot & a Nice Long Siesta Go To Jail: Go to the Drawers ("I'm sorry, Layton") RAILROADS: Main Line, Burthurd Curve, Marseilles Juncture, Old Trestle Bridge UTILITIES: Electric Company: Battery Bank Water Works: The Subtrain TAXES: Income tax: Janitor Mafia Shakedown, pay 10% or 200 chips Luxury tax: Revolutionary Looting, pay 75 chips MONEY: Blue Access Chips HOUSES: Breakmen HOTELS: Jackboots The 10 PIECES: Mouse, Cow, Stiletto Pump, Breechman's Boot, Train, Volt Sled, Hexnut, "W" Pin, Strawberry, Barrel of Lube THE BANK: "Head of Hospitality" CHANCE CARDS: 1. Advance to The Engine 2. Advance to Mile Zero 3. Advance to The Tea Room. If you pass Mile Zero collect 200 chips. 4. Advance to Ruth's Subtrain War Room. If you pass Mile Zero collect 200 chips. 5. Advance to nearest Railroad. If unowned you may buy it from the Head of Hospitality. If owned, pay owner twice the chips to which they are otherwise entitled. 6. Advance to nearest Utility. If unowned you may buy it from the Head of Hospitality. If owned, pay owner twice the chips to which they are otherwise entitled. 7. Head of Hospitality pays you bribe of 50 chips. 8. Get out of the Drawers free. 9. Go back 3 spaces. 10. Go to to the Drawers. To directly to the Drawers, do not pass Mile Zero, do not collect 200 chips. 11. Payoff your loyalits. For each breakman pay 25 chips, for each jackboot pay 100 chips. 12. Hospitality courtesy fine - 15 chips 13. Take a trip to the Main Line. If you pass Mile Zero, collect 200 chips. 14. You have been elected Head Engineer. Pay each player 50 chips. 15. Your blackmail was effective - collect 150 chips. 16. You won the baby lottery - collect 100 chips. COMMUNITY CHEST: 1. Advance to Mile Zero 2. Notary error in your favor - collect 200 chips. 3. Pay doctors fee for mechanical prosthetics - 50 chips. 4. From sale of trained mice you get 50 chips. 5. Get out of the Drawers free. 6. Go to to the Drawers. To directly to the Drawers, do not pass Mile Zero, do not collect 200 chips. 7. Showtrial decides in your favor - receive 100 chips. 8. Find hidden stash of kronol - collect 20 chips. 9. You win fight night bet. Collect 10 chips from every player. 10. Your skills in high demand for barter - collect 100 chips. 11. Avalanche destroys your property - pay 100 chips. 12. Black market swindle - pay 50 chips 13. Receive your cut from organized crime - 25 chips 14. Loyalists holiday bonuses - $40 per breakman, $115 per jackboot 15. You have won second prize in a singing contest. Collect 10 chips. 16. You win big on casino night - collect 100 chips

[paulpingminho]

[nopalsmkbpd]

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[corrupcionallianzsecuaces]

PIN CODE SECURITY TOTAL TITULOS INTEGROS COMPUTOS PRINCIPE ANTONIO 10583288-E AUCTION CLAUSOR FONDOS HOLDING HANNOVER PRINCE & BUILDING HANNOVER PRINCE & HANNOVER BANK WILHELM BANK OPERATIVO CSIC COMPUTOS CAUCION FIANZA E-37431-012 ZOC DESPUES NOTARIA VALOR MAS ANTIGUO MEJOR. AL SER EL BCO PROPIEDAD DE ANTONIO J ARIAS RODRIGUEZ DNI/CIF-10.583288-E C/FÉLIX ARAMBURU Nº8 2º A OVIEDO-33007 TENGO CREDITO BCO ESPAÑA 1%... & DEVENGOS CHEKS LEC/LECRIM ART 117 50/1980 DEVENGOS 845/011 846/011... DAÑOS AGRAVIO RA OM3525145 AR + OL4409662 AR RA NOTARIAS DEL ESTADO.. BIS RA COSTAS TITULOS A PARTE U-3511008 NS 9 OVIEDO CAUCIONFIANZA E-37431-012 LEC/LECRIM LEY 30/1992 ART 71 PENAL 1 EMPLAZADO SEPT 017 .....DOLO INS 9 PAGO AUTOMATICO 305 308 C.P. LEC/LECRIM LECRIM 177 777 DE NOTARIAREQUIERA CANTIDADES EXACTAS INTERVENTORES DEL ESTADO INSPECCION HACIOENDA DPTO IVA DPTO RGTROS SR HEVIA SR NOVAL SRA P ARIAS D LUIS TEJUCA NOTARIO SR FUMANAL PROCURA PLENOS PODERES OBLIGADO.... VAÑLOR NPOTARIAL FISVCAL 2 FISCALES DE HACIENDA SRAS MARIA JESUS MARI NIEVES.. VALOR NOTARIAL LABORAL SR CACERES AFILIACION URE.. VALOR NOTARIAL PERICIAL SR NOVAL MAS DE 40 PERITOS.-. VALOR NOTARIAL MEDICO CERTIFICACIONES SANIDAD PUBLICA (4) TITULO INTEGRO... TGSS NOTARIAS MEDICAS SANIDAD PUBLICA LECRIM 177 777.. VALOR NOTARIAL JURIDICO 2 MAGISTRADOS ORONTUERO NOTARIAS.. SIN REVOCACIN DE AUD. CASACIONNINGUNA CERTIFICACIONES POSTERIORES AL 30/8/16 NINGUNA.. NO HAY NO.. SON CERTIFICACIONES FISCALES 8/EN708 HACIENDA CEE EN 1 CONTABILIDAD ECONOMICA FINANCIERA ACT ECONOMICAS NO HAY NO EL LIQUIDO LO MISMO ART 117 50/1980 TODO ASEGURADPO DESDE LA CREACION DEL MUINDO.. 2 POBRES SON DE PUEBLO Y CANTAN DELINCUENTES EN GRADO SUPERLATIVO.. MIS FONDOS BONOS DEL ESTADO CANJEABLES COMO FALTE UNA PESETA ROBAS AL ESTADO ESPAÑOL ETC PRIVACION 3º GRADO SAGRADA 100 MIL AÑOS DE CARCEL VAN A SER POCOS....COMPUTOS.. AUTO Nº000132/011 ABREV. Nº0001084/011 ABREV. Nº0004666/014 AR RA 3/5/16 UNIDOS AR RA DE NOTARIA PENAL EMPLAZ<DO HUELLAS UNIDOS AR RA TGSS DEST.EA0029057 (5/11/19 TITULO INTEGRO CANTIDADES EXACTAS DE NOTARIA REQUIERA LEC/LECRIM LECRIM 177 777 DOLO LA MISMA CANTIDAD AUD NAC SEC PENAL ANTICORRUPCION... REMISION TSJAS 13/5/16 EMPLAZADO PENAL 1 SEP 017... ILMA SRA MARTA PALACIOS ART 117 50/1980 EL AUCTION CLAUSOR CONHUELLAS NOTIFIQUE DE TRASLADO... LEC/LECRIMLECRIM 757 LREY 57 TODOS LOS TITULOS MIOS INTEGROS SUIPERIOR ORDINARIOS FIN TITULO SUPERIOR DA TRASLADO SU ILMA SRA BEGOÑA FERNANDEZ INTEGRO...LECRIM 757 LEY LEY 57 LECRIM 774.... EMPLAZADO PENAL 1 SEP 017 1AÑO.. ART 117 50/1980 LEC/LECRIM LECRIM 109 LEY 29/1998 ETC ETC

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F

[gobbluthbutagirl]

i have been browsing indeed for like a week and i have found 6 jobs that i think i a) would not hate and b) am reasonably qualified for and they are:

1. a call center position at universal studios. this one is probably the least desirable of the call center options because a) the pay is only like $18-$20 and b) they “prefer” if you have a bachelor’s degree which OBVIOUSLY i don’t so they probably would not hire me

2. a housekeeper position at a nearby hotel that pays $20 an hour. i cannot decide if cleaning hotel rooms would be better or worse than cleaning World’s Worst Target but i think it would probably be less stressful. also it would take me under 10 minutes to walk there so that’s a plus

3. a customer service position at a ups store i can easily get to by bus. the main appeal of this one is that it’s right next to the [REDACTED]. but the pay is $18-$21 and $21 is not bad but $18 is ehhhh. also the application allegedly asks you if you can travel to redondo beach & marina del rey when needed which is like. Gladly but i don’t have a car. also they want you to become a notary public

4. shift manager at a local bar & grill. honestly i probably would not apply for this one because i have never worked in a restaurant and i don’t particularly want to work in a restaurant. i mostly just saved it because it’s very nearby & it pays $250 a day

5. temp to hire call center job that pays $24 an hour. i would have to ride the subway for one stop and then walk like a mile which i would not mind because this job would have me sitting on my ass all day. or i could take the bus

6. call center job that pays $30/hr. haters will ask me why the hell i don’t just apply for this one since it pays the best BY FAR. well the thing is i would have to ride 2 different buses to get there and it would take almost an hour. but it could very well be worth it

[titoist]

Hearts as light as air, Eyes and cheeks aglow, We were twenty, and we had the truth! With my friend Pierre, And my friend Jojo, To the bar we'd go to drink our youth…

Pierre thought he was Casanova, Jojo, Voltaire and Debussy, And I, who always was the proudest, I imagined I was - me!

From the Grand Hotel the businessmen would leave, We would greet them as they came along, Showing them our class, Showing them our ass! Singing this song:

"The bourgeoisie are really pigs! They don't get smart, they just get fatter! The bourgeoisie with all their dough --- The more they learn, the less they know!"

Hearts as light as air, Eyes and cheeks aglow, We were twenty, and we knew the truth! With my friend Pierre, And my friend Jojo, Drunk with beer, but even more with youth…

Casanova chased the ladies, Voltaire wrote songs with Debussy! And I, who always was the proudest, I got almost as drunk as - me!

From the Grand Hotel the lawyers would appear, We would greet them as they came along - Veddy uppah clahss! Showing them our ahss! Singing this song:

The bourgeoisie are really pigs! They don't get smart, they just get fatter! The bourgeoisie with all their dough - They more they learn, the less they know!

Hearts no longer dare… Eyes no longer glow… At the Grand Hotel, we often dine. The notary, Pierre, The businessman, Jojo, And I, the lawyer, talk and sip our wine.

Pierre may talk of Casanova, Jojo, Voltaire and Debussy, And I, who still remain the proudest, I still talk of - me!

Later, when we leave, From that bar they come, Scum who ought to stay where they belong - Clearly lower class, Showing us their… well! Singing THAT song!

this translation was done by tom lehrer, funnily enough. i just formatted it properly, befitting of the "#songs i like." series of postings.