#i always feel guilty tagging this where the post is 99% history and not at all hetalia
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sorry but it came up on my feed and i can't NOT inform you about other related facts you might find interesting because i do!
🌟the Prussian partition trivia under the cut because i have no self control🌟
– basically while the Prussian government weren't the biggest fans of the Poles, even in the early 1800s the German people were neutral or sympathizing with them, providing support and so on.
– in 1830-1831, during and after the November Uprising in the "Russian" part of Poland, the Germans (and other nations who were soon to follow with the Spring of Nations thing) were strongly cheering for Poland. After the uprising fell, lots of Polish people had to escape the country to avoid persecution. On their way to Paris the refugees were welcomed by the German people like heroes, with flowers, dramatic poems and more material means of support.
– by "dramatic poems" i mean the Polenlieder or Polenschwärmerei – a whole poetry genre dedicated to praise Poland and the November Uprising. They're little known today, but I've read a couple dozens (wikipedia says there's around a thousand of poems like this) and they're absolutely wonderful and absolutely dramatic.
– the one with the final line going:
When this night ends finally and sun rises anew,
Sons of Poland, remember, the Germans were with you.
oh fuck.
i love and i'll always love baby!Lud and Feliks interactions (ask me about my headcanons)
– ughhf why am i rambling so much, another thing is that after the unification of Germany and implementing standarized rights, independent courts and the parliament, it turned out to be Difficult to bully the Polish people because no German would dare to go against the law! Therefore we know a number of funny situations when the Poles would exploit every loophole in the German law and the Prussian authorities trying to get them anyway (implementing new anti-polish laws lol at some point)
– just google Drzymała i'm not gonna tell this story
– i live in the post-prussian-partition Poland and we still remember the saying that goes "there are still courts in Berlin" – because you could always sue the Prussian official that was bothering you and the judgment would be fair.
– not so long ago i've read a great paper about the Prussian attempts to ban the song Boże, coś Polskę, which was at the time aggressively used by people protesting in the Russian partition. When the officials told the archbishop of Poznań to ban it, he politely disagreed and there was this long exchange of letters with the archbishop going "the song is not in the slightest revolutionary, it's just about loving the land where you live :)" "the text is literally about liberating Poland from tyranny" "fair. as a compromise we can stop singing that one line :)".
– It did end up in the court. The court told them it wasn't bannable. The Prussians tried a court appeal. They managed only after the chad archbishop died, only for a few years.
sorry for infodumping on you ohmygod. it's not personal i promise. here's a scene:
Gil: Feliks stop drawing dead black eagles and do something useful or you're not getting din–
baby!Lud: You can't do that.
Gil: I can't do what.
baby!Lud: Drawing isn't forbidden, and you said one should always follow the rules. You can't punish him.
Gil: <- now he has to find an argument that will convince the kid. Or give up 🚹
Learning about the Polish situation after the partitions is so funny because you learn that after one of the Uprisings when everything from language to culture got banned in the Prussian part of the Annexation, (it got banned everywhere but let's ignore that for a moment) some Germans started to get interested in that because "why is it banned"?
And I just imagine the situation where poor Gilbert is just sitting in his study or just some office space doing paperwork maybe, and teenager Ludwig just comes in and is like:
Ludwig/Germany "I wanna learn Polish"
Gilbert/Prussia "You what now?"
It's the greatest revenge of Feliks.
#...it turned out long i'm so so so sorry.#but i'm such a fan of early poland-germany relations#AND THE POEMS. IF YOU CAN READ POLISH OR GERMAN PLEASE ASK ME ABOUT THE POEMS#historical hetalia#i always feel guilty tagging this where the post is 99% history and not at all hetalia#ness cinematic universe#deep poland lore#hws poland headcanons#hws poland
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hi miceál! i literally just discovered your blog and was hoping i could ask you a question. it's kinda long & involved and also u don't know me, so i won't feel bad if you ignore me. but so: i was perusing the gaelige tag and found your post where you were talking about the importance of learning your mother tongue. i was wondering if i could ask your thoughts about how this applies to people with less direct ancestry. (1/?)
for example, i'm an american and have a lot of (pretty far back) irish ancestry. i studied abroad in ireland in the spring before covid happened, and i took an irish language class and really liked it. however, since being there i feel kind of guilty about wanting to learn more, because i know that like. it annoys irish people how americans talk about having irish ancestry, and that the irish language means a specific thing to irish people, and that there are political aspects to both so, i've been trying to like. learn more but also be careful and respectful, but i do feel a little guilty still i guess, because i know that this language/history isn't mine (at least not in the same way). anyway, i don't really know what my question question is but have been thinking about this for awhile and am not in contact with anyone who lives in ireland anymore. maybe you could tell me what you think if thats ok and if you're comfortable? sorry again for the long question!!
dia duit! as usual, my disclaimer that I am but one (1) Irish person, so I can’t speak for everyone; however having grown up in Ireland I did know a fair few Irish people, so I feel I can say the following with confidence: if you’d like to learn Irish, please learn it. Irish is a dying language, and the more people who learn to speak it, the better its chances of survival. it’s a beautiful language and to be honest if you ask me I would say you don’t even have to be Irish to learn it. of course it’s a very special part of your heritage if you are, but there’s no qualifications to learn it. the more people, the better, if you ask me.
now moving on to the more political aspects, which is always unavoidable when talking about my lovely home country lol. yes, there is some annoyance with Americans doing the whole “I’m 1/16th Irish” or whatever; we don’t really get this obsession with heritage in Europe, probably because a lot of us are still fairly close to home and our heritage hasn’t been diluted as much. also, culturally, European countries are Old As Balls, so we don’t really need to lean into another identity to have a cultural heritage. for you guys, America is still a very, very young country (I’ve stayed in hotels and eaten in McDonald’s restaurants renting in buildings older than the United States of America, to put it into perspective) and being culturally American is still a new thing. it’s understandable that people would lean in to the motherland a little, for a sense of identity, and 99% of the time that’s OK! what annoys us, in my experience, is the lack of differentiation. for example, genetically you have Irish in you, but culturally you’re American. while we can happily accept that yes, you’re originally from Ireland, we don’t like people acting as though we’re the same culturally because we’re not, and Ireland is a very complicated country politically, socially, etc and it’s frustrating when people come in thinking we’re all on the same page when we’re not. it’s not a deep-rooted hatred, but more of a frustration. of course, if you’re not obnoxious about it, nobody is going to care. generally if I meet Americans in Ireland I just assume that they’re descendants visiting anyway, and I’ve met plenty of polite and interested Americans who have let me chat their ears off about Irish history, so.
to move to the bulk of the question: you might not be culturally Irish, but at least personally I would still see you as connected to the struggle that the Irish language has come to represent. there’s a very high possibility that your ancestors left Ireland because of poverty, or because of persecution; that life in their homeland was made very difficult for them by an oppressive and illegal occupation, and they left to try and have a better life for themselves and their descendants. maybe they left and never looked back and were happy; maybe they missed Ireland for the rest of their days -- I don’t know. but I do know that if Ireland had been treated better, you would likely be growing up in Ireland, where your family had lived for centuries. there is a sense of grief there that I can empathise with -- I myself had to leave Ireland for various reasons, and only now, a decade later, am I making plans to go back. I know what it’s like to see Ireland slip away over the horizon. I know what that grief feels like. I can’t imagine then never returning, and having my descendants grow up in what would always feel to me as a foreign land. I would be absolutely psyched if my descendants then decided to get back in touch with their heritage.
you say the history isn’t yours, and perhaps no, not in the same way. but the fact that you’re in America now shows that Ireland’s history affected you, and part of it -- be it famine, oppression, persecution -- has influenced where you are today. as for the language, it is the language that some of your ancestors spoke perhaps only a few centuries ago. I would say that it’s still yours, if you’d like to have it. the Irish language is a complicated subject even in Ireland -- in some places you can’t even speak it without people getting certain ideas -- but anybody who is truly passionate about the language and about undoing the damage that 900 years of oppression has done will not be annoyed that you’re learning. you seem sensible about it; you seem respectful and aware of the differences between being culturally Irish and genetically Irish, and that’s really the main thing that becomes frustrating if the lines aren’t drawn. at the end of the day something happened to force your ancestors to leave behind their homeland forever, and that is a loss. if learning Irish helps you feel closer to them and to the home they had to leave behind, I say go for it and good luck.
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Dangerous Creatures | Chapter 9: The Mystery Chest
Summary: Mackenzie Alemaund is an unlucky 18 year old teenager whose life changes drastically after she gets kidnapped by two vampires and learns, in the same day, that she is not human.
Pairing: Elijah x OC
Words: 1081
A/N: Please note that I am French and that there might be some mistakes here and there - I’m sorry this is so short - I don’t know when I’ll be posting chapter 10 - I have no idea if the tags are working so please let me know if they are as well as if they aren’t - enjoy ~
Masterlist
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8
Despite Elijah’s best advice, Mackenzie didn’t sleep that night. She did take a shower however, and he was gone when she stepped out of the bathroom. So was Robert’s body. The blood was still on the kitchen floor and she walked back to her bedroom as she didn’t want to see it. It reminded her of what she did. She was cold in her white shorts and shirt. Her wet hair didn’t help either. She sat on her bed, feeling exhausted, and yet with no desire to sleep. When Elijah came back about two hours later, he found the elemental sitting there, in the dark and in complete silence. He wasn’t surprised. He had expected it.
“Hey,” he said, as gently as he could, but Mackenzie didn’t react. “Get up. You need to pack.”
She frowned as she looked up at him with a confused look on her face.
“You can’t stay here, it’s not safe,” he explained. “Any vampire can enter this place. Pack everything. Robert quit his job and left. He didn’t tell you where he was going. You came back home and all his things were gone. Do you understand?”
It took Mackenzie a minute to respond. “I understand,” she said as she nodded and stood up.
He gave her a minute to get dressed and then helped her pack. By sunrise, all of Robert’s things were gone. Elijah didn’t bother Mackenzie with the details but when he came back, he had a truck with him. He started loading all the boxes and, as he thought they were done, Mackenzie disappeared out of sight.
He returned to the house where he found the teenager in the attic, staring down at a big old dusty chest.
“We also need to empty this room.”
“I know,” she said so low a human wouldn’t have heard her. “It was my mother’s. For a moment I forgot it was there…”
When she stepped into the attic to continue packing, she found herself facing the old chest. It broke her heart. Whatever was inside must be all her mother’s secrets. Everything she kept from her, including who she really was. She had always been curious to know what was inside, but now, she was scared.
“What’s inside?”
“I don’t know.”
“You never opened it?”
“It’s locked. I don’t have the key.”
“I don’t need a key.”
She looked up at him and understood the silent question. She nodded. He squatted down to break the lock. He made it look like it was the easiest thing in the world. And for him, it was.
“Do you want me to open it?” he asked as he turned to see her, unsure as to what her state of mind was. He too had an idea of what might be inside. She nodded again.
Inside were a lot of things. It was filled with pieces of paper which fell out as soon as Elijah opened it. Mackenzie knelt next to her friend and picked them up.
“Is that Latin?” she asked as she tried to read them.
“Yes.”
They looked very old and had a brownish-yellow color. They looked very fragile and Elijah was careful when he too picked up one from the floor.
“This one is in German,” he said. “Early New High German.”
“Early New High German?”
“Yes, this dates back to the sixteenth century… ah,” he said when he saw the date on the paper, “February 12, 1608. It’s a Royal Pardon.”
“What? For who? And from who?”
“One of your ancestors. From… Margo of Aragon?” he said, as if it didn’t make any sense.
“Like… Catherine of Aragon?”
“Yes…”
“But… who’s Margo?”
“I have no idea.”
That in of itself was strange. Elijah knew his history. Especially because he lived through the last thousand years. He knew of Ferdinand II of Aragon, the King of Spain in the fifteenth century, and of his daughter, Catherine of Aragon, wife of Henry VIII and Queen of England. But he had never heard of Margo of Aragon. He was certain she wasn’t a legitimate child of the royal family, and she was never in a position of power. Not in Spain, anyway.
“Margo of Aragon, by the power of Mother Nature and the powers invested in Her Majesty by the creatures of the Holy Forest, grants you, Tobias Julius Alemaund, immunity for all your past deeds, confessed or not confessed, and allows you to remain in the Holy Forest, until Her Majesty decides otherwise.”
“The Holy Forest? What is that?”
“I don’t know… This is an official document,” he said as he looked at the royal wax seal at the bottom of the page. He couldn’t recognize it. It had the form of an oak.
“Well… what about this one?” she asked as she handed him another paper.
“Margo of Aragon, by the power… declares you, Tobias Julius Alemaund, guilty of treason and sentences you to death,” he translated, “this dates back to December 29, 1607.”
“What did he do?”
“It doesn’t say.”
Elijah kept looking at the papers on the floor while Mackenzie took a look inside of the chest. There was an enormous book inside which she tried to take out but couldn’t as it was too heavy. Elijah helped her. She didn’t look at it right away. She put it next to her and kept looking inside the old chest. There were more books inside, none of them in English, though some might be in old English, but most of them were in Latin and in German.
“What is all that?” she wondered aloud.
“More official documents… Tobias was knighted in July 1608. He died in 1612 of old age.”
“Why did my mom have these papers?”
“She probably got them from your father. This is your family history.”
“But… why is it in German? Weren’t the Aragons from Spain?”
“They’re probably not related. Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand reigned in the fifteenth century. This was a century later.”
“This is… crazy.”
“You’re getting more and more interesting each day Ms. Alemaund,” he grinned. “But as curious as I am to go through these, we need to go. We don’t want people to see us leave. They’d ask questions.”
“Oh… yeah, of course,” she nodded.
As much as she wanted him to translate everything at that moment, she knew that there would be a better time for it, and she couldn’t wait to discover more about Tobias Julius Alemaund and the Holy Forest.
Tags: @thepoet1975 @nerdysandwichqueen @catchmeupimgettingoutofhere @raegan-hale @captainam-erika-trash @silver424 @silver424 @vaniileiinkeks @valeria-winchester @favimag @colie87@hamiltonmadesomemistakes @s0nh4dorasblog @poemfreak306 @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @thegingerthatwaited @therealwatermelon @dark-night-sky-99 @aubri1313 @aubri1313@gymnastgal1997-blog @thearaviagrace77blog -
#the vampire diaries#tvd#vampire diaries#the originals#originals#mikaelson#fanfic#imagine#fic#oc#reader#elijah mikaelson#elijah x oc#elijah x reader#lily collins#dangerous creatures
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cw: ??? Paranoia, parents, down talk, uh suicide and death comes up, it’s A Lot? Oh specific mention of Cancer. I’m suddenly exhausted and struggling to tag. Also, typos. Read this @ ur own risk, there’s a disclaimer inside re: that and if you mention this post to me I’ll be upset. Especially as I’m going to try and forget I made myself internet-vulnerable by posting it. G’night tumblr.
My like, negative monologue and paranoia found their way back to me with strenght instead of being mostly hushed whispers instead of weird moments or almost more like, speaking in faint images, vague feelings - they weren’t real and sharp and present and it’s been to the point where until recently with the flare up i was pretty soundly thinking some of my diagnosis must be wrong or i was weirdly in super recovery, and if everything felt like, still off, weird? That’s just real life? If BPD like goes away, somehow, magically, I would just feel less.
Everything would be. Less.
Also it’s just weird because I’m comparing all my friendships and shit to my ex who was my FP and close friend and then gf and then ex but like keyword in some of that if FP so everything was more constant and intense so no wonder other friendships don’t match it, fuck, will other romantic relationships?
Like I’m still not bothered too much, I am ultimately okay with being single I think but also like.
I dunno!
But like friends. friends friends friends.
I’m struggling what to do with any of all of them and if you’re a friend I talk to with any goddamn regularity see your way out of this tumblr post. Or like proceed at ur own risk I’m not trying to @ any of y’all I’m just like. verbalizing (textualizing? sure. whatever!) my paranoia and struggles in Friendship TM rn so like please either don’t read this or don’t make it weird because it’s not you it’s me
God god like i I just can’t find the fucking balance and I think it’s partly because I am constantly bouncing between trying to invest more (too much) into friendships or isolating, or not having the energy, or trying to do both, or all three, I need so badly to be liked but also why thr fuck do you all like me
I’m fake, I’ve got so much imposter syndrome I can’t fucking see straight. Some of my friends think I’m cool and kind of goth??? Think I don’t like people (oh shit), that I’m like, tough, but I’m a fucking goddamn powder puff who is constantly on the verge or crying or emptiness or undesired anger which i then feel guilty about and channel into anger at myself. I hate myself so much that it’s normal, that until something pushes it it can kind of just become background noise and isn’t that sad? Isn’t that sad. I act and say that I don’t, insist I’m cooler and better and sometimes think I do but it’s because I feel so goddamn bad about myself but I know that won’t make me more likeable, saying it won’t make things good, just makes things back and awkward so I have to like fumbling try and like myself or at least fake it.
I’m not cool. I’m fat and ugly and broke and can’t keep a job or do anything right or get my shit together even if i’m goddamn trying.
I try and forget my mother so that missing her will stop. I can’t miss her if I forget her. She won’t exist to forget. I won’t think about her, so I won’t have to miss her, even if every fucking cell in my body carries her, from her genetics and everything that entails (death, mostly, likely from colon cancer) to her finger prints on my brain neurons (my mental illnesses aren’t something to lay at her grave and blame her for but her finger prints and markers are in all of them, I am my mother in so many ways I hoped I wouldn’t be).
I try and forget my father so I won’t miss him either. He’s just a disappointment or a hurt when he’s around, just something else to feel bad about (I can’t make him happy, i’m too gay, too fat, too much like my mother, too much like the sister he’s always abused and treated wrong). He’s not worth the energy.
I try to just... put on a face and exist minimally around my family because they aren’t perfect but they try and do a lot and I love them and I will never be truly one of my aunt and uncles children, a sibling to my cousins, my uncle won’t just give me casual affectionate contact and i’m too hold and don���t have the history to crawl into my aunts bed and just cry with her about how awful and broken I feel and they love me so much even if I’m not quite these things so why isn’t it fucking enough?
my ex is an essay i don’t want to do because every time i fucking reach some further progress and closure i lose it and I hate it, I hate it, I hate how part of me still aches and misses her but do I miss her or just the idea of her, what she represented?
That someone could love me, that someone could get me?
But like. Ha, the more you know me, the less you know me, right?
I think it’s a lot like that.
Everyone leaves eventually.
Like my friends, fuck, like everyone is good and fine and I’m the goddamn problem ultimately?
Because my brain just cooks shit up like
Don’t respond to them.
? I’m tired so I will later but-
Don’t, all they do is x. They only talk to you about x. When have they talked to you about anything else, they don’t deserve you, they only want want you can do for them and don’t actually care about you, fuck them, fuck this, this always happens--
or well shit you can be more attentive and still just get same shit different angle,
You now y is just using you to ease their own loneliness and depression.
I am 99% that’s like most human interaction, we’re all supposed to try and help one another-
They don’t actually LIKE you, not really, they don’t know you and how garbage you really are. They wouldn’t like that Logan. They’ll go when you stop being useful, stop being enough, the first time you mess up, and you will, you try so hard, so goddamn hard but you will
I want someone to like the garbage parts of me but also I don’t, because, I can’t even like those parts, why the fuck should they, why, why, people will go if I show those parts or want me to change them and I want to change them too but also some shit doesn’t change and some shit is just me, maybe some of this isn’t just garabage or stuff to learn or unlearn, some part sof me just suck, though who even knows which ones, which parts are real, because i’m so fucking fake you can poke holes through me, at least half of my happiness is even fake but if I don’t at least try and fake it it won’t exist and people won’t want tp interact and i’ll be a drain and i can’t have that, I can’t stand owing people or being a burden even if that’s all I ever do, i don’t understand human interaction and friendships and i hate how i can’t disappear - a few weeks or months - and come back without it being a thing, but also i want people to worry, not to Worry but to give a shit but also WHY SHOULD THEY and I expend all this energy on friendships but sometimes I’m not sure why, if i even want them, but i also know i need friends and like friends and am a friendly person and just
i hate. this. Being so many different pieces and conflicting feelins and reactions and i just want to start over. I want to die and have another playthrough. I want to run away and cut ties with everyone and just... live a different life.
Guess I’m actively suicidal again for the first time in awhile. That’s sort of new.
I think I’m finally tired. I’m... going to post this and try and forget I did.
It will feel like too much of a backstep to just delete it, but I can’t edit this either.
if you read this: none of this is @ or about you, again, this is my bullshit brain and me struggling. You’re good friends, some of you are even wonderful friends, I do. Love you. As much as I can love anyone. Which is a lot sometimes, and other times it’s.
Not? I dunno. I’m broken, I don’t know what to tell you.
Also like don’t talk to me about it because I can’t handle that and will very seriously get mad.
i’m going to sleep.
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Revenge Sandwich Week 1
Okay I’m here to attempt to participate with actual words rather than just maps. I can do this. By the way I haven’t read any other posts yet because I wanted to make mine first! (Because I’m worried that if I do read other people’s posts they’ve already said everything I was going to say and then I don’t have anything. x) I mean, literary analysis really isn’t my strong suit.)
Turns out this book is still such a page-turner for me. :p It’s really reminding me why I loved Dumas books as a kid. I’m already a bit ahead of schedule because I just couldn’t stop reading. But I’ll just talk about this week’s part now.
So yeah, I did vaguely remember some of what happened here but there were a lot of details I’d forgotten. And even things that don’t count as “details”: SOMEHOW I managed to COMPLETELY forget that this was all about politics and Napoleon. I literally read the part about them stopping on Elba and went “hey wait is this a Napoleon thing?” and yes, turns out it was a Napoleon thing.
Anyway.
This story... or at least the beginning is kind of hilariously unsubtle, isn’t it? The book doesn’t exactly make you wonder who are the good guys and the bad guys. (At this point at least. I have the impression that this is going to change.) And Edmond is kind of boringly perfect and like EVERYBODY LOVES HIM except the couple of guys who’re jealous. Although he IS at least kind of charmingly naïve, the poor guy, so he does have at least one fault...
Well also he has a bit of a temper because of course he does, he’s a Dumas protagonist isn’t he? And btw that bit where he’s all like “yeah Danglars and me once had a row so bad that we almost had a duel over it (on Monte Cristo no less, that sure isn’t foreshadowing anything at all) but I’m sure we’ll get along fine from now on and he definitely would never betray me” rhat is EXACTLY the kind of thought process Dumas himself would have. Like I’m 99% sure he’s just outright calling himself out here.
I mean some of the characters do get some complexity already. M. Morrel is introduced as kind of a greedy bastard who just cares about his cargo rather than that his captain died, but then turns out that he genuinely cares about Edmond and is ready to even risk his own reputation to help him. Caderousse is an envious, selfish bastard but he’s also somewhat sympathetic. (Again, because he defends Edmond... this seems to be a bit of a trend here. Liking Edmond makes you more sympathetic. xD) And then there’s Villefort who’s... well he’s a really compelling character and I find him fascinating and I want to read more about him but I also hhhhate him as a person. :p Yuck, prosecutors. I feel like washing my hands. And I just see red when his only motivation to do the right thing seems to be just to please his fiancée and he like fantasizes about telling Renée about how nice he was. Ewww dude, you are the worst.
Renée is interesting because I kinda genuinely do like her but on the other hand she’s way too happy to marry Villefort which makes me side-eye her a bit. I mean yeah she’s an upper-class woman and probably doesn’t have endless choices about matters of love but still. (Also she doesn’t mind the death penalty apparently unless it’s for political prisoners. >__<) Well, we’ll see how things turn out. I hope she’ll keep showing up.
I do really like all the political stuff, even if it seems to be more about the intrigue and the plot than the kind of manifesto masquerading as a novel that Les Mis is. But I enjoy both kinds. :p It’s a fun contrast too, given that these are novels set approximately in the same era. (And Dumas still finds time to make fun of the Royalists which I appreciate.)
Oh but there seems to be quite a lot of class discussion too, right? Which is interesting. I’d really like to see where it goes.
Uh... that’s pretty much all the at least somewhat structured thoughts I had for now? Like I said, this isn’t really my strong suit.
Some random reactions and comments that I wrote down:
‘-- if it were known that you gave a packet to the marshal and spoke to the emperor, you might be compromised.’
‘How could it compromise me, Monsieur?’
Oh you sweet summer child...
‘I shall always have the highest regard for those who enjoy the confidence of my owners.’
That’s an interesting way to translate “mes armateurs”. (I had to check what it was in the original text, it felt so weird.)
- I love the bit about Les Catalans. It just appeals to me a lot, that kind of sense of a tiny community with an interesting history. I just appreciate it in a story (although I don’t really know how accurately they’re portrayed here and of course we only seem to get to meet two people from there.)
- Another thing is the strong sense of the era, it’s just very very 1815. I like it.
- Mercédès’s speech to Fernand is probably the most blatant kind of exposition dialogue ever lol
- Also at points it feels like maybe you don’t need to remind us that they’re Catalan like literally every time you talk about them? Especially with Fernand, omg. (And who says “with your Catalan knife” when they’re also Catalan themself?)
- So far I like Mercédès though, I don’t really have much to say about her otherwise. Fernand creeps me out, like he’s obviously meant to. He seriously doesn’t seem to care about Mercédès’s feelings AT ALL as long as she doesn’t kill herself. >___<
- All the talk about it being bad luck to call a woman her fiancés name before they’re married and a man captain before he’s been formally appointed... there’s SO MUCH FORESHADOWING HERE OMG. I get it, everything is going to go horribly wrong! Stop reminding me!
- Danglars, why did you even talk in front of Caderousse? I don’t get it at allll. I mean at first I thought the novel was going to have Caderousse, Danglars and Fernand all conspire together against Edmond and I was so confused about Caderousse being there because he seriously didn’t have a good enough reason to hate Edmond... I’m glad it didn’t go that way but now I’m just baffled by Danglars.
- I don’t have much to say about Danglars in general, he’s probably the most one dimensional character so far. I mean I appreciate his twisted mind because it makes him a scarier villain but otherwise... I don’t know, we’ll see.
- Btw isn’t it a bit weird how even though we get told that Edmond has all these friends and how all these people really love and respect him but they don’t really get named or introduced at all? Instead all the focus is on the three people who actually aren’t great friends. Just a thought. It’s weird.
‘a commissioner wearing his sash is no longer a man but a statue of the law, cold, deaf and dumb.’
Hah. :D
‘but, dammit, though he’s a Royalist and the crown prosecutor, he is also a man and not, I believe, a wicked one.’
‘No’, said Danglars. ‘Though I have heard it said that he is ambitious, which is much the same.’
Oh snap. Okay I really like that line even though it’s Danglars saying it.
- All the coincidences, like the foreshadowing and the character introductions, ARE NOT SUBTLE AT ALL. Buuuut then again what are you even reading 19th C. lit for if you don’t appreciate Poignant Coincidences....
- Uggghhh all the talk about trials is disgusting. Yuck yuck yuck. Hhhhate. The sheer lack of empathy in everybody except Renée. Also Villefort, HOW IS IT ANYTHING LIKE A DUEL WTF. Let’s make a list: a) duels are supposed to be agreed upon by both parties, b) it’s supposed to be balanced, not favouring one of the parties, c) both should be facing the same risks. YOU LITERALLY HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE, YOUR OPPONENT HAS EVERYTHING ON THE LINE. ARGH.
- did I mention that I hhhate him?
‘Nowadays, the sword has been put aside and the gown is supreme: there is a wise Latin tag to that effect.’
‘Cedant arma togae,’ Villefort said, with a bow.
‘I did not dare to attempt it in Latin,’ the marquise replied.
Okay, relatable. x) (obviously I don’t like her either but)
‘So the guilty man has been arrested,’ said the marquise.
‘You mean, the accused man,’ said Renée.
Thank you, Renée, the only half decent human being in this party.
This restore to us had a revolutionary ring to the ears of the crown prosecutor’s deputy.
Fucking royalists, omg. (I do appreciate Dumas snarking about them.)
settled his features in front of the mirror into their grandest expression and sat down, dark and threatening, behind his desk.
Omg Villefort you dork.
- Also: interrogating a suspect while also thinking ahead to how cleverly you can tell people about it later: like this guy is simultaneously so relatable and so disgusting. It’s both hilarious and enraging. (Idk, it probably hits me particularly hard because he feels like such a real person.)
happiness makes even wicked men good.
Another good line.
‘To whom was it addressed?’
‘To Monsieur Noirtier, Rue Coq-Héron, in Paris.’
Oh shit... Suddenly it makes sense that Edmond ends up in prison. >_______<
- Aaaa poor Edmond has all the power here and he just doesn’t KNOW.
- I don’t have anything to say about the next chapter, just AAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaa
- This part has gotten so much harder to read as an adult tbh.
Villefort ran out but, on reaching the door, realized that the sight of a deputy crown prosecutor in such a hurry could upset the tranquility of an entire town, so he slowed to his normal pace, which was quite magisterial.
Omg this guy. I swear.
- Villefort is having his Storm Inside A Skull moment except he put HIMSELF into this situation and of course he turns out to be an Anti-Valjean if anything. It really feels like an echo of the same scene though, even to the point of being interrupted and pushed towards the final decision by someone coming to tell them that the carriage is ready.
- I don’t have much in terms of thoughts about the chapters with Louis XVIII. Mostly I just kept wondering how historically accurate this was. xD
Okay, that’s all I had. Time to read everybody else’s things!
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