#dominique dodge

[greenjudy]

Outstanding performance by Dominique Dodge of “Mrs. Judge,” a Carolan tune. Take a listen--she deserves your ear. :) 

[melloween-candie]

Teen pregnancy [P.4]

A Carl Gallagher x Fem Reader fic

Summary

You only started dating Carl for about 2 months. That was right around the time when he and Dom broke up. Deep down, you knew you couldn't compete with her. He would always choose her before you. Yet you were only 16 years old when you discovered he got you pregnant. This news terrified you so much. You didn't want to lose him, and you knew he was already going through so much shit stuff with his family and his "business." Better yet, you were scared about how your family would react, let alone his. At least you have Debbie, your best friend, who's also pregnant with you.

Warning! Betrail, Small mention of suicide, Violence, Depression, Alcohol, PDA, Manipulation, Teen pregnancy, Drugged, Cussing, Bullying, Cheating, Panic attack, Somewhat running away, Threat, Mention of abandonment

Note! If any of that makes you uncomfortable- DON'T READ THE STORY!

Word count: 981

[Angst/Fluff]

Part 1, part 2, Part 3, PART 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10 (Completed)

Shameless Masterlist

Fandom Masterlists

/"Talking"//Thinking//Muttering-Whispering/

Time skip!~

***Carl's Pov***

I was currently standing in front of some random loser's house. The house was small and rusty, but the party seemed lit. It was loud, people were throwing things, and someone jumped from the roof. Don't know what that's all about.

As I entered the house, a bottle came flying at me. I dodged it; luckily, however, the guy behind me wasn't so lucky.

I wasn't really feeling the party. In fact, I started questioning why I was even here when I could be out with my girl. I decided to just go straight to the liquor. Figured I'd just get a little drunk, forget everything for a night, then head home.

But no, that's not what happened. What happened was that I saw Dominique with, whom I assume is her new boyfriend, since they were making out in the corner till she spotted me.

She started walking towards me, and I just stood there. I grabbed someone else's drink and chugged it down my throat.

"Hey, Carl!" She yelled. "How do you like the party?! It's great, right?!"

I shrugged my shoulders. I didn't have any intentions of hanging out with her. I just wanted to get a little drunk and then leave.

"Hey! Your cup's empty. Let me get you another drink!"

"What!?" I asked. I couldn't really hear her well due to the music.

"I said!" She yelled once again. This time only louder. "I'M GETTING YOU ANOTHER DRINK."

She grabbed my empty cup before I could do anything else. At this point, I didn't really care what she did.

I ended up stepping outside into the backyard porch. I took a seat and allowed myself to just think.

Man, why do I feel like this? I mean, what am I really doing here? I could be having a good time with my girl, but... god screw this.

I wasn't about to start mopping at a party. I was about to leave, but then Dom walked outside. She was holding two bottles. Somewhat stumbling.

"Heyyy! There you are." She said, giggling a little, taking a seat next to me. She handed me a bottle of beer. I took it stupidly enough.

She leaned in closer. "So, how are you feeling?"

I just stared at her. She smelled like beer and kept wiggling in her seat with a strange smile.

"Come on, Carl. You came here to let loose, so let loose!" She clinked our glasses together.

"..."

"Oh, come on! At least drink it. If I knew you were going to be a deadbeat, I would have never invited you." She said, standing up.

I sighed and drank the whole bottle.

Maybe she's right... It's been a while since I actually had fun. With Nick leaving and my girl being pregnant. Life was complicated.

So I chugged down the whole bottle.

At the time, I thought it was just regular old beer, but damn, I was wrong...

I started to hallucinate. I tried to get up, but I kept stumbling. The last thing I saw was Dominique; she stopped smiling weirdly and stood up straight, looking at me with a straight face as I fell.

-Black out-

Time skip!~

***Y/n's Pov***

It has been a few days since you last saw your boyfriend. He's been sick for most of the week since it is now Wednesday.

You were walking to your last class of the day till something caught your eye. Your locker, it was covered with foul words.

Sl*t, Cu*t, Wh*re. If you can think of it, it was there. You opened it only to find a fake baby doll covered with dirt. It was missing an eye, and it was hairless and naked. They even attached a fake umbilical cord to it... creepy would be an understatement.

You found a piece of paper attached to it. Opening it, you read-

"Stay away from Carl, you wh*re. He's my baby daddy now, bi*ch."

On the paper, there was a picture attached to it. It showed Carl... fu*king- DOM!?

Your whole world started to crumble. You fell to your knees. Holding the paper while grasping your mouth. You couldn't believe it. He said he'd never-

You ran to the nearest bathroom and puked. You didn't even notice there was a girl standing in the bathroom. Whipping her face.

"Hey!?" She seemed angry since you kinda shoved her, but when she heard your sobbing, she realized.

"Y/n? Is that you? Are you ok?" She asked worriedly. "It's me... Debbie."

You opened the stall door. Your knees close to your chess. You looked at her with wet eyes. You were a mess.

"What happened-"

You didn't even need to say anything. She saw the paper, and that was it.

Time skip!~

That night you and Debs didn't go home. You both stayed out. Talking about everything that happened.

"So let me get this straight. You saw him talking to Dom, then he processed to cancel on the ultrasound we had today, lying to you about needing to do something, then he went to a party just to fu*k Dominique?!"

"Yup..."

"THAT SON OF A BI*CH! I'm ashamed to call him my brother!" She said in disgust as she munched on her sandwich. "I swear to you, Y/n, once I see him, I'm not gonna beat him up; I'M GONNA KILL HIM!"

"Yeah..." You looked down at your sandwich... "Well, what about you? How's it going with you and Derek."

"Derek, who?" She spits. "That mother fu*ker left."

She looked down at her sandwich and sighed.

"I wanted to be a part of his family. I wanted to have a family- with him! But no. At first, I thought his family was trying to separate us, but in truth, he ran."

You rubbed Debbie's back, and she smiled at you.

[glittercake]

I'm curious about the divorce au 🤧

ohhhh so i'm quite excited about this one. i don't have a whole lot written yet and it's going to be pretty long but i have this little snip.

"You still love Dad." Dominique says. She's got that annoying Bucky-like pull to her eyebrows. Sam admits that he falters for a second. Just a second though. He finds another invisible spot of dirt on the countertop to clean. Scrubs over it vigorously trying to come up with an answer but that twin-tuition kicks in and Dom's head snaps to Aria and they burst into laughter.  After a moment of hysteria, Aria composes herself. "Daddy, you ain't ever been a good liar."  "Yeah. Because you shouldn't lie,” Sam says. Dom tilts her head sideways. "So you do?" Sam sighs. There's no out now except for playing dumb. "Do what?"  "You still love Dad." He hates that their eyes swell with hope. He hates that his heart has already answered for him. "Don't you kids have homework or something to do? Girlfriends or boyfriends to annoy. Rooms to clean. You know that blue sweater you been looking for all week is on that laundry chair. The pile ain't getting any smaller." "Yeah alright, Daddy," Dominique says, resigning with a knowing shit-eating grin--another annoying expression inherited from Sam's ex husband. "But you know what aunty Nat always says--" "Girl, you better get out my kitch--" "--she says no answer is also an answer!" Dominique dodges the tea towel Sam throws at her then darts up the stairs, Aria in tow, giggling like this is funny.  It’s not. Sam is goddamn sweating.

send me wip asks

[the-al-chemist]

On This Wild Night — Part Three

Notes: this story was originally conceived as a farce comedy. It’s evolved somewhat since then, but still has elements of that genre. For that reason, miscommunication reigns supreme in this chapter. A warning for mild injury description and mild angst played for laughs.

Previous — Masterlist — Next

Once the toasts were finished and the empty plates had been vanished, the red-headed ushers began levitating the tables to the sides of the marquee to create a dance floor in the centre. Or, rather, that was what they were supposed to be doing. Instead, the brothers had become distracted, and were now directing tables to knock into one another in what appeared to be a game that only they knew the rules of.

Across the room, Charlie made eye contact with Artemis before sending his table zooming into Bill’s. At Artemis’ side, their former Transfiguration professor was smiling through tight lips as she watched the scene.

“They never do grow up, do they?” said Professor McGonagall, with an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

“Boys, you mean?” Artemis asked her.

“I was going to say ‘men’, but I dare say that the terms could be used interchangeably.”

Artemis laughed, and looked back at the still-bantering brothers. From the looks of things, Bill had summoned one of Charlie’s shoes from his foot. He was now holding it high above his head, out of Charlie’s reach, whilst George held him back.

“I dare say so, too,” Artemis murmured sagely.

From the other side of the marquee, Fleur appeared, Dominique in her arms. She walked purposefully across the empty space that had minutes earlier been filled with tables and thrust the baby into the arms of her husband. She hissed something into his ear, and his face became suddenly serious. He nodded earnestly, returned his brother’s shoe, and kissed his wife on the cheek.

“Well,” said Professor McGonagall, raising her eyebrows and widening her eyes slightly. Artemis recognised her facial expression from years of lessons with her: she was impressed. “That one has been well-trained, at least.”

Artemis crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“I’ll have you know that my one is also very well-trained,” she informed her old teacher, who chuckled quietly.

“I do know, Miss Hexley. He has been for a long time.”

With that, Professor McGonagall gave Artemis another thin-lipped smile and walked away. Across the marquee, Charlie had replaced his shoe and was now fiddling with an old gramophone.

Figuring that he could probably do with her input, Artemis started to walk over to him, her high-heeled shoes clicking with each step she took across the dancefloor. The open space had already been commandeered by two of the only guests that were shorter than her: her goddaughter Victoire and Teddy Lupin the pageboy. Apparently inspired by Victoire’s father and uncles’ antics, the pair had begun to chase one another around the dancefloor at speed.

As the two of them ran past Artemis, Teddy dodged her, but at only three years old, Victoire was not so agile. She nearly collided with Artemis’ leg, and as Artemis stepped sideways to avoid her, she found herself falling.

Whether the floor was slippery, or uneven, or whether she was just out of practice when it came to wearing heels, she didn’t know. She didn’t have much time to think about what the reason was; she only had time to make the snap decision to put her arms out in front of her as she plummeted face first towards the ground, hitting it with an audible smack.

“Are you okay, Artemis?” said a gentle voice. Artemis looked up to see Arthur Weasley standing over her. He helped her back onto her feet, and she brushed herself off, and adjusted the front of her dress. Two more red-haired men rushed over to her, as well as Kingsley Shacklebolt.

“I’m fine, stop fussing.”

Artemis really was fine, but Kingsley and Arthur both looked unconvinced.

“Are you sure? That was a pretty impressive fall you had there, Tiny,” Kingsley said.

As Kingsley frowned deeply, Charlie began to examine Artemis’ scuffed palms. She rolled her eyes.

“For Merlin’s sake, I just tripped over. I’ve had much worse injuries playing bloody Quidditch, let alone in the rest of my life.” She tugged her hands away from Charlie’s and pulled out her wand. “Episkey!”

She healed the grazes on her hands, then the cut on her knee.

“There’s one on your chin, too,” Charlie told her, and she handed him her wand to do that one for her.

“See, I’m fine. Just my dignity that’s been damaged.”

“Understandable. I think that everyone has now seen entirely far too much of you today,” muttered Bill, half-hugging, half-restraining his oldest daughter.

“Well, at least I have knickers on.”

“Yes, Artemis, that’s exactly the most inappropriate thing you could say to this particular group of people.”

Artemis pulled a face at Bill. Charlie’s face was passive, but as her eyes met his, he raised his eyebrows fractionally. Their father cleared his throat.

“Why don’t you go and clean yourself up, Artemis?” he suggested. “If you go back inside the house, Ginny’s makeup might still be out. I’m sure she won’t mind you borrowing some.”

Having reassured the group of would-be knights in shining armour that she really didn’t require anyone’s help to walk the short distance to the house, Artemis went to clean herself up.

In the Weasleys’ bathroom mirror, she assessed the damage. There was very little, the cuts and grazes having already been healed, but there was still blood on her chin, her knee and the heels of her hands. She washed them all off, and padded into the room that used to be Ginny’s bedroom. The decor was largely unchanged, and Artemis found everything she needed in the drawer of the dressing table.

She touched up her makeup, and decided to return to the party. Hopefully, Charlie would have sorted out the music by now. She opened the door of Ginny’s old bedroom, to find Mrs Weasley on the other side of it.

“Merlin, Molly! What are you sneaking around for?”

“Sorry, dear,” said Mrs Weasley, frowning deeply at her. “Arthur said you’d fallen over, I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

“I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

“Are you sure you don’t need me to contact a Healer?”

“Really, Molly, there’s nothing to worry about.” Artemis almost laughed. Mrs Weasley had always known how to fuss over people. “They were all making a mountain out of a gnomehill, I swear.”

“Well, if you’re certain…”

“Positive.”

Molly shook her head and sighed deeply with her eyes closed. When they opened again, they had a peculiar expression in them. And… was she about to cry?

“Oh, Artemis,” she said, holding her arms out to her. “My beautiful, brave girl.”

“Um, thanks,” said Artemis. She took a step backwards. “Molly, is everything okay?”

“Everything is wonderful, Artemis. And I… I’m delighted.”

“That’s good. I’m, um… happy for you.”

“No, dear,” Mrs Weasley sniffed. “I’m happy for you.”

Before Artemis had a chance to do or say anything in response, Molly had thrown her arms around her and pulled her into a very tight hug, pressing Artemis’ face into her bosom. After a longer time than Artemis was strictly comfortable with, Mrs Weasley released her grip and held her at arm's length, still staring at her and blinking back tears.

“Oh, right.” Artemis nodded, though she had no idea what was happening to her. Perhaps Mrs Weasley had drunk too much champagne during the speeches. It was an emotional day for her, after all. “You know, Molly. That’s brilliant. I’m really glad that you’re so happy.”

“How could I not be? This is so wonderful. Sorry, dear, I’m just overjoyed. I think… you know, this might be the best day of my life.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“Of course, it would be better if you and Charlie were married.”

Artemis blinked. “You what?”

“No, no. I’m not judging, I understand that it’s the twenty-first century now, and you’re both adults, and, let’s be honest, it would be rather hypocritical of me to — never mind that,” Mrs Weasley took her first breath in what might have been almost a minute. “But, really, Artemis, dear, you should be considering doing it as soon as possible. Really, I’m surprised you aren’t already. You’ve been together for a few years, and you are both thirty now, after all. Maybe this will be the push that both of you need. A blessing in disguise, if you will, not that it isn’t already a blessing.”

“Wait.” Artemis opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before she could form a full sentence. “You want us to get married?”

“I do think it would be the best course of action. We could do it here, a small ceremony, a little party. It wouldn’t take too much organising, I’m sure if Charlie’s work let him have the time off we could get everything sorted for a couple of months’ time.”

“A couple of months?”

“Maybe less if we really crack on, limit bits and bobs here and there.” Mrs Weasley patted Artemis on the cheek. “Don’t look so worried, dear. We’ll sort it all out.”

Artemis screwed her eyes tight and opened them again. Mrs Weasley was still in front of her. She pinched herself. It hurt. She really wasn’t dreaming, then.

“I don’t need it sorted out, Molly,” she said, her heart starting to pound wildly. “I don’t want to get married!”

“Don’t you want to be a proper family?”

“I… I thought…” Artemis felt her chest tighten, a pain settling between her ribs. “Am I not already family?”

“Well, I just meant that it would be good idea to make it official. Really be a part of the family.”

The room started to spin around Artemis. At least, that’s what it felt like. Maybe she had hit her head too many times today. Maybe Molly had, too.

Mrs Weasley sighed, and reached a hand out to hers.

“I know this is all a lot to deal with. Trust me, I’ve been there,” she said kindly, patting Artemis on the wrist. “I think Charlie would say the same as me, though. What has he said to you about it?”

“He… Nothing. We never… We haven’t—”

“Oh,” Mrs Weasley’s eyes widened and her eyebrows shot upwards. “Oh, Artemis. You’ve not spoken about this with Charlie yet, have you?”

“No,” replied Artemis.

“So, he has no idea what’s going on right now?”

Artemis had to laugh at that. “Molly, I have no idea what’s going on right now!”

“That’s perfectly normal, dear. Everyone feels like that to start with, but you’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Thank Godric for that,” Artemis muttered under her breath.

“It’s much easier if you aren’t doing it alone, though. You really should talk to Charlie,” Molly nodded. She sighed again, and let out a small giggle. “Although, I’m surprised he hasn’t noticed. That’s boys for you, I suppose. It’s just that it’s so obvious.”

“Is it?” Artemis wrinkled her nose. She didn’t think that anything about this was obvious.

“I’d say so. I mean, we can all see that your breasts have gotten bigger.” At Molly’s observation, Artemis instinctively put a hand in front of her chest. She should never have listened to Charlie about the dress. “And then, at the toast, I saw that you didn’t drink the champagne—”

Suddenly, Artemis realised what Molly meant. She grimaced. This conversation was about to become even less fun.

“— and there’s just this glow about you. I noticed it when you came in just before the speeches,” Molly chuckled, completely oblivious to the fact that Artemis’ face had turned a spectacular shade of beetroot. “Of course, I was looking out for it then, because Charlie had just made that comment about your morning sickness.”

“Hang on.” Artemis held up a hand. “Charlie made a what about my what, now?”

“He told me that you were vomiting this morning.”

“Did he really?” said Artemis, her voice a low growl.

“Like I said, I’m surprised he’s not worked it all out,” Mrs Weasley shook her head. “I know he’s not as academic as Bill or Percy—”

“Molly!”

“— but he’s clever in other ways, and normally very observant, especially when it comes to, well… you.”

Artemis softened slightly, despite her rapidly increasing anger. Mrs Weasley was Charlie’s mum, and she was trying to be kind to her, even if she apparently didn’t think that she counted as family.

“Look, Molly, I think that Charlie might—”

“I agree. You need to talk to Charlie before we do anything else.”

“The thing is, Molly, there’s nothing to talk—”

“Once you’ve spoken to each other, we can all decide what to do about the wedding.”

“I don’t want—”

“You two are coming back in the morning to help take down the marquee, we can discuss it then. Unless you don’t want to tell him until tomorrow, that’s understandable, there’s a lot going on today, after all.”

“No, listen—”

“Don’t fret, dear. I won’t go spilling the beans,” Mrs Weasley said, and she started to back away through the door, tapping her nose with her forefinger. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“There’s no secret!”

Mrs Weasley said nothing, but as she walked away Artemis heard her make a high pitched squeaking noise.

“Molly, wait. Molly. Molly.”

But Mrs Weasley had already left. Artemis exhaled loudly, before exiting Ginny’s old room and bellowing down the darkened staircase:

“MOLLY!”

There was no answer. Mrs Weasley was gone. Artemis slammed her hands to her forehead and made a strangled sound somewhere between a scream and a growl. Moving her hands away from her face, she clenched her fists and sighed. What kind of ridiculous mess of a situation was this? How did this even happen?

Well, the answer to that question was simple enough: Charlie. Bloody Charlie. She shook her head, fuming.

Forget marrying him. She was going to murder him.

Charlie had managed to bewitch the gramophone to play music for the rest of the night. It was a shame that Artemis hadn’t been able to help him pick the songs to play, really. It just meant that he was probably going to have to redo it at some point after she came back.

The music was surprisingly loud, and so Bill had said that he was going to take Dominique out for a walk around the garden to try and get her back to sleep. In need of some fresh air and a break from the crowded marquee, Charlie offered to join him. They had walked and talked until Dominique fell back to sleep, at which point they had taken a seat on a pair of old deckchairs, facing the marquee.

The sun was rapidly setting in the sky behind the rolling hills of the Devonshire countryside, and the scents of grass and honeysuckle mingled in the air. Charlie smiled to himself. It didn’t matter how far he travelled; this would always be home.

“Can you believe it?” Bill asked him, nodding his head at the marquee. “Little Ginny, married.”

“Bill, I still can’t believe that you’re married, and I was your best man.”

“Can’t blame you for that, I can’t believe it sometimes, either,” grinned Bill. “How did we get to be so lucky?”

“It must be something about the red hair,” Charlie said, and he leaned forward to peer at the baby in Bill’s arms. He held out his little finger to stroke her tiny hands — they might have been the smallest he’d ever seen — and in her sleep, Dominique closed her fist, holding onto his little finger. “Do you think she’s inherited that?”

“Too early to tell. Victoire’s hair was almost black when she was born, and look at her now.”

“True. She looks so much like Fleur, it’s scary.”

“She does, but she came out in freckles for the first time this summer,” Bill laughed. “So it looks like she is one of us, after all.”

Charlie chuckled, and looked down at his sleeping niece. It was difficult to tell in the dimming light, but there might well have been a reddish tinge to her hair.

“Bill?”

“Yes?”

“If I take my finger back, will she carry on sleeping?” he asked his brother. “Or am I just stuck here, now?”

Bill conjured a small blanket. He placed the corner against Dominique’s hand and she let go of Charlie to cling onto that instead.

“See? Easy,” said Bill, with a smirk that rapidly disappeared as the sound of a door slamming in the house caused Dominique to stir.

A second later, a flash of burgundy fabric and dark hair shot across the garden in the direction of the marquee. Bill and Charlie exchanged glances.

“Is that…”

“Artemis? Yeah.”

“Is it just me, or does she look…”

“Really angry? Yeah.”

“Should we do something?” asked Bill, frowning at the marquee as Artemis stormed inside.

“Yeah, we should probably stay out of the way,” Charlie half-smiled. “At least until she’s had a chance to stomp about and shout a bit. She’ll be easier to calm down once she’s got the worst of it out of her system.”

“You make me look like an amateur,” Bill said, and Charlie shrugged. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to not be inside a marquee.”

“I just feel sorry for whoever ends up on the receiving end,” said Charlie, shaking his head. “Poor sod doesn’t know what’s coming to them.”

A moment later, a small shadow appeared in the entrance of the marquee.

“Look who’s back,” Bill muttered. “Oh, great. She’s seen us.”

Bill was right. Artemis had definitely seen them. Her hazel eyes locked on Charlie’s, and the expression in them made his heart start to race. Not in a good way, either. She wasn’t just angry. She was livid.

He was rapidly becoming filled with a sense of impending doom, which only grew stronger as she raised a finger and pointed it at him.

“Charlie, I think you’re in trouble,” said his brother.

“Trouble? Mate, I’m in danger.” Charlie’s eyes scanned around the garden, looking for any kind of escape route or anything that he could hide behind. There was only one thing within easy reach. “Bill, pass me the baby.”

“What? No!”

“She can’t kill me if I’m holding a baby!”

“You can’t use my child as a shield!”

“Yes, I can,” Charlie told him, and held his arms out. “Quick, give it here.”

“It?” Bill exclaimed. He looked indignant, but he nevertheless handed his infant daughter to Charlie, who immediately started to coo over her in what he thought was a fairly uncle-ish way.

“Charlie!” said Artemis, marching towards him with a face like thunder.

“Shh,” he replied, smiling at Dominique. “The baby’s sleeping.”

“You know, I really don’t care,” she hissed at him. “I need to talk to you.”

“Can it wait? I’m spending quality time with my niece right now.”

“No, you’re trying to avoid an argument,” Artemis told him. “Well, tough luck. You can’t avoid this, so give that back to your brother.”

“That?”

Artemis ignored Bill, and glared at Charlie, who reluctantly handed the baby back to her father. He steeled himself, ready for whatever Artemis was about to throw at him — either figuratively or literally — but instead, she rounded on Bill.

“This is a private conversation. Leave.”

“No, stay,” Charlie said quickly. Both Artemis and Bill stared at him, and he shrugged. “I mean, whatever you have to say, you can say in front of Bill, right?”

“Fine.” Artemis spat out the word. “Charlie, what the hell have you been saying to your mother?”

“What? When?”

“Today!”

“Artemis,” Charlie tried to sound diplomatic, “I’m sorry, but you’re really going to have to be more specific than that.”

“Oh, you want me to be more specific, do you? Okay, how about what you said to her just before we had sex up against the wall in the kitchen?”

Charlie grimaced. There was no way Bill was going to stay with him now. Sure enough, he heard his brother make a soft urging sound.

“I actually cannot think of anything I want less than to be a part of this conversation right now,” said Bill, standing up. “So, I’m going to go and take my sleeping baby into a very loud room. I have stuff I need to do, anyway. You know: drink, mingle, find my children some new godparents, that sort of thing.” He patted Charlie’s arm with the hand that wasn’t holding his daughter. “Good luck, Charlie.”

“Thanks,” muttered Charlie. He looked up at Artemis, still bearing down on him with her hands on her hips, and sighed. “Alright, what’s brought this on?”

“You. You did.”

“Yeah, but how? Because I’m struggling to see why you’re suddenly so angry about a throwaway comment I made to my mum several hours ago. What happened?”

“What’s happened is that I’ve just had the weirdest conversation of my life with your mother, about how I’m now pregnant.”

Charlie had never known his throat to dry so quickly before. He blinked.

“I’m sorry… You’re pregnant?”

“No, obviously not, but your mum thinks I am.”

“Wh-why… Why? Why would she think that?”

Artemis fixed him with a hard and meaningful stare, and he shrunk back from her, frowning. What had he done? Charlie thought about it, and realised how he might have caused this confusion.

“Oh. Oh, no…”

“Oh, yeah,” said Artemis. Charlie bit his bottom lip and looked at her apologetically.

“Was she angry? Did she have a go at you? I’m really sorry if she shouted at you.”

“She didn’t shout at me.”

“She didn’t?” Charlie asked, and Artemis rolled her eyes.

“No, if anything, she’s thrilled.”

“But you’re not thrilled…”

“No, Charlie, I am not thrilled. I am the opposite of thrilled, I am…” She paused for a moment, obviously thinking, before giving up. “I’m un-thrilled.”

Charlie knew better than to laugh at her new word. He nodded silently in lieu of saying anything.

“Oh,” Artemis continued without his input, “and we are also getting married.”

“Are we?”

“According to Molly, we are.”

“Right.” Charlie frowned. “When?”

“Two months. Maybe sooner, depending on your work shifts.”

“Does that mean we don’t need to help take down the marquee tomorrow?”

Charlie’s question was met with flaring nostrils. He put his hands in the air.

“I’m joking. That was a joke, Artemis.”

Artemis did not so much as smile, let alone laugh. That was a bad sign. Charlie swallowed hard, before standing up and walking towards her.

“Alright,” he said in a low, level voice, “so my mum thinks you're pregnant. Just tell her that you aren’t.”

“Do you honestly think that I didn’t try that? Because I did, it was just hard when she wouldn’t let me get a word in edgeways because she was too busy planning a wedding.”

“What wedding?”

“Our wedding. Do keep up,” Artemis snapped at him.

“I meant, there isn’t going to be a wedding.” Charlie shrugged. “You can just tell her again that you aren’t pregnant and that we aren’t getting married.”

“No. You can tell her that I’m not pregnant and that we’re not getting married.”

Charlie felt his heart sink and race, both at the same time.

“Why me?” he asked.

“Because she’s your mother and you’re the one who put the idea in her head in the first place!”

Annoyingly, that was a fairly good reason. After a moment’s hesitation, Charlie nodded.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll tell her tomorrow,” he said. He made to put his arm around Artemis’ shoulder, but she pushed him away, glowering at him.

“No, you will tell her tonight.”

“But—”

“Charlie, if you don’t tell her tonight, she’s going to keep acting all… weird around me, and keep telling me that’s it about time we got married and settled down because we are thirty, and we’ve been together a while, and apparently that means we should be married by now. Oh, and you know she is not going to let me drink, and right now, I could really do with a drink.”

“I just think—”

“I don’t give a Knarl’s arse what you think,” Artemis hissed. “You know bloody well if you don’t tell her tonight, she’ll mention it to me tomorrow and then I’ll end up telling her and you won’t have to.”

“No, that’s not… I just think that today is a really stressful day for her — yeah, I know it’s happy, but it’s stressful, too — and it’s probably better to wait until tomorrow because she is very emotional right now.”

“I’m very emotional right now!”

“That’s probably the pregnancy hormones,” Charlie muttered, before he could stop himself.

As Artemis’ face hardened even more, he immediately regretted opening his mouth. He ran one hand through his hair before trying to reason with her.

“Look, I don’t want to be the one to upset mum tonight. You just said how happy and excited she is, and I don’t want to ruin that for her when she’s already a bit… Well, you know how she gets, especially at weddings. And I’m going to have to tell her that I lied to her, and she’s not going to be happy about that, and I don’t want her to cry or shout, or start nagging me.”

Artemis raised her eyebrows, and Charlie took a step backwards.

“And,” he continued, unable to look Artemis in the eye anymore, “there has got to be a better way to solve this, one that doesn’t involve me crushing her dreams and telling her that I lied to her. Maybe we should think about other options.”

“What other options?”

On the spot, Charlie shrugged.

“Well… I mean, we could get married in two months,” he suggested. Every muscle in Artemis’ body seemed to tense, and he quickly backtracked. “I’m not saying that it’s the best option, but it is still an option.” He exhaled, adding under his breath darkly, “Personally, I think the best solution here would be to emigrate.”

“Emigrate? Charlie, you already live abroad!”

“I know, but I could see myself living in New Zealand.”

“That’s ridiculous. You can’t move to New Zealand to avoid having an awkward conversation with your mum.”

“You could come with me.”

Artemis was not appeased by this half-serious proposition.

“I don’t want to go to New Zealand with you! I don’t want to go anywhere with you!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. “You know, I don’t even want to be near you at the moment. Not until you’ve sorted out this mess you’ve made.”

“Alright!” Charlie replied, louder than he meant to. He sighed, and scratched his temple with one finger awkwardly. “This is probably a bad time to mention that I’ve got two Galleons riding on you catching the bouquet later, isn’t it?”

In response to his question, Artemis made a sinister guttural noise that Charlie had never heard a human make before.

“Okay, yeah. Bad time. Really bad time,” he said. “So, what exactly do you want me to say to her?”

“You tell her that you lied to her, that I’m not pregnant, that we aren’t getting married, and that she needs to back off.”

“And if she asks me why I lied to her?”

“I don’t know! You’re the one with all the excuses, make something up!”

Charlie closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Artemis was angrier tonight than he’d seen her in a while, especially with that anger directed at him. Knowing Artemis — which, by now, he could say with absolute certainty that he did — there was probably something else that was bothering her, it was just a matter of what. The problem was, to find out what it was that was really upsetting her, he had to calm her down. And that meant doing what she was asking of him, which meant…

“Alright,” he said gently, stepping towards Artemis with his head lowered. “I‘ll talk to her. I promise.”

“Tonight.”

It wasn’t a question. Charlie sighed, and reached out to stroke Artemis’ arm. She stiffened, but didn’t push him away.

“Yeah. Tonight, if I can. If not, I’ll come down early tomorrow to do it.”

“Tomorrow’s not good enough,” Artemis told him, whipping her arm away from him and crossing them both in front of her chest. “I want you to tell her now.”

“I’m going to do it as soon as possible, it’s just busy here tonight, so I might not get the chance. But I will try, alright?”

“No, it’s not alright. You tell her before we leave tonight, or I will tell her tomorrow, just before you have to spend the whole day with her, and when she asks me why you lied to her, I’ll tell her exactly why you did it.”

Charlie felt the blood drain from his face.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he said, his eyes wide with horror.

“Really? Try me.”

Artemis raised her eyebrows, her entire face still. She wasn’t bluffing. Of course she wasn’t. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t dare do. That was one of the things Charlie loved the most about her — or, at least, it had been until this precise moment in time.

He gulped, and Artemis narrowed her eyes as she leaned in and hissed at him once more.

“You’ve got until the end of the night to buck up, Charlie.”

With that, she turned on her heel and marched back across the garden, leaving Charlie to watch her storm off and away, the loose tendrils of her dark hair blowing wildly in the breeze behind her.

[millions-dykes]

I will leave up to my blog's namesake by rambling about the most niche ship of mine I enjoy rotating around in my head.

I know they never met canonically, but I do genuinely think Elendira and Dominique would've had a fascinating relationship. Hear me out. Both are women who are introduced as powerful, mysterious and loyal to their own views / ideals (especially in trimax for Dominique.) Elendira said at some point in the manga that she rarely ever went all out on someone until livio, and I think Dominique could potentially be one of those exceptions— her power of paralysis through hypnosis is tricky to dodge if you don't know how it works.

I think both would see some similarities between eachother, maybe a silent companionship as the only women among the gung ho guns.

Now this one is more heavy headcanon then anything else (but with these two it's unavoidable lmao) but you know how monev the Gale got nailed to a cross in trimax and how the same happen for him and Dominique in 98(if I recall)? Like to think it's Elendira's work. Imagine the tragedy of nailing the only woman you ever felt understood by. Do you see the vision.

They're like doomed murder yuri. 2 me.

[skygodtraumabond]

<Looks like a video file is attached! Let me provide a transcript!>

<The scene opens on the lower half of Route 110, in the grassy field just beyond the entrance to Cycling Road. Ray is prowling through the grass with Dominique in tow, almost seeming to perfectly mimic the posture of a Manectric on the hunt. The kid just behind them seems to be attempting to mimic the behavior, but is much less sure in their footing, not staying as close to the ground as they stumble and keep their head on a nervous swivel. Passing trainers seem to slow and swivel their heads to see what's going on, murmurs and raised eyebrows aplenty.

Dominique: Um... Mx. Ray? I think people are—

Ray: Shsh. Keep your voice down. I found one.

The ex-champion gestures for the kid to get lower, completely fixated on the path ahead. Dominique makes a startled, muffled noise and drops to a low crouch as Ray carefully pushes some grass aside. Just barely visible through the grass is a Voltorb—a rare find on the route. Though it almost looks like a dropped pokeball, the barely-visible ridges of its closed eyelids give it away. Ray's voice is just barely a whisper as they look back at Domi, their goggles doing nothing to hide the determination shining through.

Ray: Alright, good. It hasn't detected us yet. You said that Clem needed to get faster with dodging, right?

Domi: I mean... Yeah. But how is fighting a Voltorb going to help?

Ray: Different pokemon species have different strengths and weaknesses. Not just type, but physical and mental ability as well. Clem might not ever be able to surpass the limits of her species, but by fighting pokemon who are naturally proficient in different physical and mental traits—whether they're strong, strategic, or just really fast—they should be able to pick up on those proficiencies and slowly learn how to counter, match, or even exceed them. That's a... Kind of simplified version of the concept, but in essence: Voltorb are fast. If Clem trains against them—

Dominique: Then they'll get faster too?

Ray: Exactly. Now... Go on, kid. You're up.

Domi nods and creeps around to be beside Ray. Taking a ball off of their bandolier, they take a breath and seem to slip into a zone as they quickly stand up, wind their arm back, and send Clem into the fray.

Dominique: Clem. Bite.

The Voltorb barely has time to react before the Skwovet has their teeth dug deep into its thin outer shell. It lets out a startled screech and spins in place rapidly, generating a static charge and flinging Clem across the field, where they land with a tumble. They recover quickly and scramble to their feet, shaking off the tumble and stancing up for another attack as the Voltorb comes to a rest, still stunned from the bite.

Domi now stands fully upright behind their pokemon, their earlier shyness replaced with a cold, determined stare. They don't take their eyes off the Voltorb for even a second, almost seeming to pierce through it with the sheer focus in their eyes.

Ray grimaces as they get to their feet, their joints giving some complaints as they stare out over the battlefield. Despite their older age and lack of participation in the fight, they have a similar focus, their hands in their pockets as they seem to analyze every movement.

Dominique: Body slam.

With a chirp, Clem charges forward and leaps into the air above the Voltorb. However, just as they reach the height of their jump, the Voltorb recovers and rolls out of the way, leaving Clem to slam into the ground. As they try to recover from the miss, the Voltorb begins to charge up more static. Domi's brows shoot up as they realize what's about to happen.

Dominique: Jump!

Clem stumbles to their feet and leaps into the air. Right as they do, the Voltorb shoots by beneath them, static arcing off of them as it speeds by. Then, without instruction, Clem seems to put the pieces together. Landing from the jump, they immediately go into a tackle and slam into the Voltorb from behind, sending it into an uncontrolled roll. As it comes to a rest, it's clear that it's on the verge of fainting, rocking back and forth in an attempt to stay awake as Clem leers down at it.

With a menacing chatter, they await their trainer's next command. However, it never comes. Ray puts their hand on Dominique's shoulder, startling them out of their focus.

Ray: Alright, good job. That should be enough.

Dominique: H-what? But it's not fainted yet.

Ray shrugs and walks out next to the Voltorb, crouching down and scratching Clem between the ears to calm them down as they take out an Oran berry and offer it to the Voltorb. It seems wary of the vagabond, but the gentle grace in Ray's steps seems to calm it down, and it cautiously takes the berry and starts nibbling on it.

Ray: You don't need to knock wild pokemon unconscious. Just get them to the point of surrender. Remember... You can take Clem to a center after this. This Voltorb doesn't have that luxury.

Domi seems to ponder on this as Clem steals another berry out of Ray's pocket and scampers over to their trainer, climbing up their leg and sitting on their shoulder as they nibble their stolen treat. Ray keeps an eye on the Voltorb as it finishes the berry and rolls off into the grass, disappearing into the thick vegetation.

Dominique: ... Hey. I didn't tell Clem to do that tackle at the end.

Ray: No, you didn't.

Dominique: So is that... Good? Bad?

Ray: It worked, didn't it?

Dominique: Well, yeah. But, um... I'm just. Not to be rude, but...

As Domi searches for the right words, Ray gets back to their feet and walks back over to them. They seem to startle silent as Ray's shadow is suddenly cast over them, but the older trainer seems as serene as ever.

Ray: Sometimes you just need to trust their instincts. Of course they need to be well-trained as a foundation, but pokemon battle by nature. Sometimes, they'll know what to do before you do.

Dominique: ... How will I know? How will I know when their instincts are right?

Ray thinks on this for a moment,bringing their hand to their chest and absent-mindedly running their thumb over one of the patches on their robe—the one with the image of Nerve the Venomoth stitches into it.

Ray: ... I can't say. All can tell you is... After working with them for a while, you'll just know. You won't have proof. There's no science. It's all just... Trust. Faith.

The two trainers stand together in silence for a moment, Domi looking over at Clem as they settle down on their shoulder with a contented away of their tail. After a minute of silence, the kid nods thoughtfully, giving a weak smile to their teammate.

The moment is interrupted by the sounds of commotion from further up the route. Both trainers startle to look over at the source of the noise. Ray's hair seems to stand on end the more they stare off into the distance, but Domi just seems confused and nervous.

Domi: Is it a battle, or...?

Ray: No. It sounds like a fight... Come on.

As they quickly start towards the source of the noise, Domi seems to go somewhat pale, but still follows close behind the ex-champion.

Dominique: Wait, we-we're getting involved!?

Ray: I have a feeling we need to. Or, at least, I do. Stay close.

The video ends as Ray rushes down the route, Domi trying their best to abide by their orders and keep up.>

<This transcript was provided by me: Techie the Rotom! Let me know how I did! Your feedback is greatly appreciated! :> >

[authoralexharvey]

Find the Word Tag

Thanks to @bebewrites (and also… everyone else) for tagging me for this! Getting through them slowly but surely. Also lets me show off the secret prologue ASMLP has a bit. My words were…

Confuse:

They sit on the grass together, so close to touching Nadia feels the warmth envelope her. And then, like two pieces of glass overlapping, they are meld together and are one. 

By the time the young boy rushes by, they have settled once more. They watch him as his too-loose sandals kick up clods of dirt, which sprays near enough they have to dodge out of the way.

“Nads,” he says with a chuckle, running a hand through his swoop of dark brown hair. For a moment, their entire being ripples with confusion, but they settle when the boy holds out a small, wet frog. Its skin inflates between his fingers, the soft croak filling the silence.

Whisper:

“I wouldn’t be.” Simone shoots up, spine rod-straight, and jabs a finger into the desk. Their whole body rattles. “See my records, Professor, and the recommendation letters. I’m quite capable.”

With a soft smile, Professor (NAME) shifts their thesis to regard a brown folder underneath. He lifts a corner and thumbs through, expression never changing. “You are,” he says as the folder closes with a whisper. Then, hands again clasped, “I just want you aware of your options. You’re beginning your second year, after all. Sometimes, interests change.”

Bone:

it appears I don’t have this one yet in ASMLP.

Feel:

We’ve been walking for a couple of days now with the map Doctor Guérin provided. It seems the path has seen some changes since their last expedition. I’ve been making the appropriate changes as we go. 

[Papers rustle. Twigs snap in the background.]

Professor Duval?

Hmm?

It… I feel like we’re being followed.

Ah, yes. [The rustling of papers continues.] Nature, for all its beauty has a way of making you feel paranoid. This is your first expedition, is it not, Dominique? 

Flow:

it appears I also don’t have this one yet.

tagging: @andromedatalksaboutstuff @mr-writes @spirit-of-helimire @antlerhymnals your words are: fight, discord, pink, and candle!

[eileen-crys]

I can't get this out of my head, especially since those new photos of the band exiting a private jet were released - how the ever loving Christ are there only, like, six confirmed photos of Veronica out there on the entire of the internet?! There are about a gazillion of Dominique and loads and loads of Chrissie, but almost none of Ronnie - and she in the spotlight for longer than both of them. She might have had lightening fast reflexes to constantly dodge the cameras!

That's one of the greatest mysteries of the band and personally I hate when people use the excuse of Veronica missing from photos to make up weird shit about her 😅 But yeah it's a bit disheartening, specially when new batches of photos from backstage come out and basically everyone is in there except for her, even when it's known she was there... 😔

Sometimes I think she may've taken some of the photos herself (I like to think she took the pic of John, Roger and Dominique skiing but it's my headcanon until we find out otherwise) but what makes most sense to me is that she might've explicitly asked the photographers to not be photographed for privacy reasons. (?) It's weird how much she's missing and it can't fully be accidental at this point. Which is quite a shame because she's very pretty and it's lovely to see her touring with John, the kids and the band... I wish we knew more about her, maybe from a photographer like Neal Preston.

I'll still keep hoping for a new photo of hers to come out tho 💕

[alittlefrenchtree]

Hello!

I’m a little bit for late for my Cultural Rewind of 2023 but here it is! It’s second year in a row I do it and I like it a lot. It allows me to give some recommendations and it helps me track things down to keep an eye on my mental well being. Consuming art and stories and knowledge is my favorite thing in the world and pretty essential to my mental health but it can be difficult to maintain certain habits in adult life so I'm making lists. Of things I've read, of tv shows I've watched, of movies I've watched. So I make sure I’m fed enough.

And now it’s time to share !

Books! 

Persona -Erik Axel Sund

Flowers for Algernon (re-read) -Daniel Keyes

Arrête avec tes Mensonges (Lie With me) -Philippe Besson

Largo Winch, T1 : Le Groupe W (re-read) -Jean Van Hamme 

Largo Winch T2 : La Cyclope (re-read) -Jean Van Hamme

Les Marins ne savent pas nager -Dominique Scali

Largo Winch T3 : Le Dernier Dodge (re-read) -Jean Van Hamme

Ce sport qui rend fou -Gilles Simon

The Pillars of the Earth (re-read) -Ken Follett

Rafa -Rafael Nadal / John Carlin

Hunger Games : The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes -Suzanne Collins

Que reviennent ceux qui sont loin -Pierre Adrian

Red White and Royal Blue -Casey McQuinston

It’s pretty obvious at what point during the year I stopped reading books and read only fanfictions 😂 I’m going to try to do better this year but I’m still reading fanfics so I’m not sure. Every re-read is obviously a recommendation.

If you’re reading in French you can try Les Marins ne savent pas nager, it’s really good and original.

Tv Shows & Documentary!

10 pour 100 (Call My Agent) -Season 4 I said in my rewind of 2023 already but I love this show. Really enjoyable.

The Walking Dead -Seasons 7, 8, 9, 10, 11 all the way to the end. Thought the day will never comes but I FINALLY finished this show. Big fans of the 7 first seasons, not so much of the rest of it. They’re now trying to seduce me into watching the show with Daryl in Paris but I still haven’t. I’m a strong person like that.

Balthazar -the last season I guess? It’s a French tvshow. The lead is cute.

Bullshit jobs -a documentary on Arte

Some kind of Arte documentary on love but I forgot the title.

Frankenstream  - a documentary on Arte

Next in Fashion -Season 2 My guilty pleasure. Where is the third season ???

The Last of Us -season 1 Not a big fan but I’m really glad Storm Reid won an award because her episode was my favorite.

Flavors Origins -an unknown numbers of episodes. Short episodes on Chinese food I like a lot. I love anything learning me things about food and origins of food so obviously.

Drops of God -on the Apple thing

-Silo On the Apple thing as Well REBECCA 💜

The summer I Turned pretty -season 1 and 2 Hate watch, one of the most stupid I ever seen.

The Pillars of Earth (miniseries) I wanted to watch it for years and I finally did and I liked it a lot. Fell in love with Eddie Redmayne all over again.

Outlander The last season probably. Watching this show has become of a habit than a source of real joy but I’m still here.

Code Lyoko All the episodes and even the atrocious live-action thing. Ulrich and Yumi aren’t together at the end of it, it’s the slowest unresolved slow-burn I ever seen. 

Black Mirror -the first 4 seasons (AGAIN). I think I’m going to give up on it. I still love the first two seasons when it wasn’t made by Netflix. Then I get bored and lose interest and motivation to watch.

Heartstopper -season 2 Still a delicious and sweet treat. Can’t wait for the next season.

Chambers For Nick obviously, but it was entertaining enough.

The Crown -season 1 + season 2 I’ve started because I was in need of royal drama (for reasons) and I LOVE IT. Didn’t expect to be this good. I’ve started the season 3 today.

Movies!

Pink is for the movies I liked.

Bold pink is for the movies I really love.

The Banshees of Inisherin -Martin McDonagh My favorite movie of the year. I immediately knew it would be my favorite, even if it the first I saw in 2023

The Menu -Mark Milord

Gubbai, Don Gurizu! (Goodbye) -Atsuko Ishisuka

Tàr -Todd Field

Puss in Boots -Chris Miller

Puss in Boots 2 -Joël Crawford + Manuel P.Mercado

Arrête avec tes Mensonges -Olivier Peyton

The Son -Florian Zeller

The Fabelmans -Steven Spielberg

Emily -Frances O’Connor

Dune (rewatch) -Denis Villeneuve if you haven't watch it yet, wait to see it back in movie theaters I'M BEGGING YOU

Delva -Emmanuelle Nicot

Le Bleu du Caftan -Maryam Touzani

Largo Winch 1 (rewatch) -Jerome Salle

Largo (Making of Movie) -Yves Legrain Crist

Je verrai toujours nos visages -Jeanne Herry

Suzume -Makoto Shinkai

Les 3 Mousquetaires : D’Artagnan -Martin Bourboulon

Super Marion Bros. -Aaron Horvath, Michael Jelenic

Booksmart -Olivia Wilde

L’exorciste du Vatican -Julius Avery

The Flash -Andres Muschietti

Sisu - De l’or et du sang -Jalmari Helander

Elementaire -Peter Sohn

Joy Ride -Adele Lim

Detachement (2011) -Tony Kaye

Une Nuit -Alex Lutz I really, really loved this movie. Alex Lutz (who is main cast as well) was phenomenal in this. Karin Viard as well.

Hunger Games 1 (rewatch) -Gary Ross

Hunger Games 2 (rewatch) -Francis Lawrence

Spiderman : Across the Spiderverse -Dos Santos; Peers; Thompson

Oppenheimer -Christopher Nolan

Barbie -Greta Gerwig

Le Colibri -Francesca Archibugi

Yannick -Quentin Dupieux

Red White and Royal Blue -Matthew Lopez I mean, what kind I even say? Watch it if you want a new ship to consume your life and time, not so much if you’re a picky cinephile?

La Voie Royale -Frédéric Mermoud

Anatomie d’une Chute -Justine Triet

Toni en Famille -Nathan Ambrosioni

The Kissing Booth 2 -Vince Marcello

The Kissing Booth 3 -Vince Marcello

Le Livre des solutions -Michel Gondry

Purple Hearts -Elizabeth Allen

Acide -Just Philippot

The Creator -Gareth Edwards (V)

Le Consentement -Vanessa Filmo

1UP -Kyle Newman

Call me by your Name (rewatch) -Luca Guadagnino

La passion de Dodin Bouffant -Tran Ahn Hung French food + a very soft love story + a French-Vietnamese director = YES.

Vincent doit mourir -Stephan Castang

Hunger Games : The Ballad of Songbirds and snakes -Francis Lawrence

Bottoms -Emma Seligman

Soudain Seuls -Thomas Bidegain

Past Lives -Celine Song

Wonka -Paul King

Voyage au pôle sud -Luc Jacquet

Les trois Mousquetaires - Chapitre II : Mylady -Martin Bourboulon

If you have any question on something specific, talk to me. I’d be happy to answer!

See the 2022 one.

[adamwatchesmovies]

A Cat in Paris (2010)

Sometimes, the Academy Awards make it too obvious they'll just nominate any decently budgeted animated film. Treasure Planet? Brother Bear? The Croods? A Cat in Paris is the exception. It didn’t win and doesn’t quite have the emotional depth necessary for it to have been worthy of that shiny trophy but this is a lovingly-made, tense and extremely stylish action/comedy.

In Paris, Zoé (voiced by Oriane Zani) watches her pet cat Dino leave every night through the window. No one could suspect the feline spends its nights with Nico (Bruno Salomone), a cat burglar. One night, his path crosses that of crime boss Victor Costa (Jean Benguigui).

Right away, you’ll notice the film's outstanding character designs, shading, color palette, and art style. While not all 3D animated movies look exactly the same, there are few you could point to and say “I can clearly see who worked as the art director on this one”. Every frame of Une Vie de Chat/A Cat in Paris comes from Jean-Loup Felicioli. Don't know who that is? That's fine. It just means you're seeing something new. Even before we get into the action or anything else, it’s a joy to just sit back and look at the film. The way faces look when they turn sideways, the proportions of the characters, the angles of the floor patterns, which details are preserved and which are omitted, etc. It all stands out to make a unique vision.

Clocking in at a mere 65 minutes, this is a fast-paced story. The bulk of it takes place in one night when Zoé’s police superintendent mom, Jeanne (Dominique Blanc), organizes the city’s police force to secure the Colossus of Nairobi statue. She knows Victor Costa will try to steal it and that he’s responsible for the death of her husband so it’s extra important that she get him. As Costa and his bumbling henchmen try to organize, all of the separate plot threads converge. There’s a lot of running and dodging as people try to get away from the police, try to warn the authorities about what’s going to happen or try to prevent people from getting to the police. The score by Serge Besset helps amplify the intensity.

Despite several characters' murderous intentions, this is not a heavy story. You get a lot of laughs from Costa’s goons and from Dino as well - he’s got a knack for jumping on people’s faces at the right time. My favorite gag concerns a yappy dog who annoys its owner whenever Dino passes by. Movie fans will also have fun with a couple of references to gangster/crime movies, like Reservoir Dogs and Goodfellas but what I enjoyed most was the way the animated medium is used. There’s a scene set in complete darkness where Nico has to sneak by some people and it’s brilliantly done. There aren’t any colours so it doesn’t quite encompass all of the film’s best qualities, but it’s close.

Fans of animation should make the effort to check out A Cat in Paris. It’s short so you won’t be investing too much time, you’ll be entertained all the way through and the art design/animation is inspirational. It’s light but that’s perfectly fine. This just makes this the kind of movie you pop in when all you want is something entertaining. (Original French version, On DVD, April 23, 2021)

[neodracunyan]

Job Hunting for Dummies - Season 01 - Episode 02

Episode 02 - "Punch" Out of Luck

Season 01 - Episode 02 - Punch Drunk

Location: The Boxing Stadium - Downtown Creation City

Date: May 16, 2019

Time: 10:00 PM

No POV

After the paper route job was a total bust thanks to Sonia's attempt to steal someone's TV, Y/n, Sonia and Tailsko are at a boxing ring as Tailsko has another job for them, only this time Y/n is going up in the ring to a boxing match against Mike Tyson. Luckily for Y/n, he was giving some boxing lesson from Peanut Butter as well as some other fighting lessons from his friends in other types of fighting style video games like Mortal Kombat and Street Fight, so this should be an easy boxing match for our hero.

Sonia: Wait, wha— wha— why did he agree to do this?

Tailsko: It's a big payday, Sonia. It's real simple, he just hang in there, and h— he'll be fine. Trust me.

Sonia: Look, look, I'm not feeling good about this. Is it too late for him to back out?

Y/n: Don't worry, Sonia. I can handle this. I've been taking boxing lessons from my friend's pokemon named Peanut Butter, so this should be a snap for me to box against the stadium's best boxer, Mike Tyson.

We zoom out to show Mike Tyson as Y/n put's on his boxing gloves and is ready to fight with the bell rang, starting the match.

Tailsko: Yes, that bell- Yeah, now it's too late for him to back out. Go get him, champ!

Y/n: Thanks for the motivation, Tails~!

Sonia: Yeah, thanks a lot, dickface.

Y/n: Alright, let's do this. (Dodges Tyson's punches and counter punches Mike Tyson)

Sonia: Wow, he's really doing it. I think he can take this guy!

Y/n punches him some more while dodging and blocking more of Mike Tyson's attacks.

Tailsko: Hey, that's great Sonia! Uh, just, uh, don't go let him crazy, okay? I, uh, kinda bet against him, so, uh, I need you to not let him lose this match, okay? I kinda betted out Y/n's life savings on this match.

Y/n: Wait, wait, you betted my life savings that I worked hard for against him?! (Mike Tyson punches Y/n, sending him backwards a bit while rings fly out of him) Ow, ow, oh, my face! Tails, grab those rings, I need them for laundry!

Tailsko: Ok, just be careful, ok? I don't want you ending up in a body cast. (Starts picking up Y/n's golden rings before they disappeared)

Y/n: Got it. Alright, Mike Tyson, prepare to get your light punched out! (Thinking) Good thing that Peanut Butter enhanced my durability to deal with strong punchs from this guy. Better make this quick before I lose all of my life savings.

Y/n then unleashed a power punch at Mike's jaw as the boxer got stunned and Y/n repetitively punches Mike Tyson until he is completely knocked out to win the match.

Mike Tyson: GAH! HOW...IS...THIS...KID...THAT...STRONG....WHY... ISN'T... ANY... ONE... STOPPING... THIS?!

Timeskip - The Next Day

After the boxing match, Y/n was declared the winner and won back his savings and earned a extra bonus as his winnings as we cut back to Y/n's apartment where Sonic is holding an ice pack onto Y/n's black eyes due to that punch that Mike Tyson gave him during the match.

Tailsko: Well, you took one hell of a fight back there, babe. But at least you still got your life savings back and earn some money left over from the last match, right?

Y/n: Yeah and I did go a little bit too far on beating Mike Tyson to a bloody pulp back there, but at least he's got insurance and in a body cast at the hospital.

Tailsko: You know what Sonia should do, head down to the Star Light Zone, pick herself up a boyfriend, get a little spin job, huh? She earned it.

Y/n: Are you sure you wanna do that, Sonia? That kind of job sounds a little too risky, even for me.

Sonia: Nah, I decided it's time to grow up, you know? So I took some of the money and made a little investment.

Tailsko: Hey, good for you, man!

Y/n: Yeah, that's real mature of you.

Sonia: Yeah, bought a sweet new frame for my poster.

The scene cut to show her Dominique Wilkins poster in a frame.

Sonia: That baby's gonna pay for itself in like 15—20 years.

Tailsko: You stupid fuck.

Y/n: Well, at least the frame only costs $5, and her rent is paid for this month, so we're good for now, I guess.

END OF EPISODE 02

TO BE CONTINUED IN EPISODE 03 IN A STRANGE DREAM REALM

[khakilike]

This was a fun experiment, but the most interesting part for me is the trade that sent Magic Johnson to the Atlanta Hawks in the LeBron simulation. Was it a straight swap of Magic for Dominique Wilkins? Were there more pieces---maybe AC Green?---involved? In this scenario, did getting out of LA mean Magic dodged the HIV bullet? And how sensational was Dominique as a Showtime Laker? (Or did the Lakers stop being the Showtime Lakers without Magic running the show?) I could get completely lost thinking about the possibilities.

[nefopoxaxewa]

Dodge caravan 2012 notice mode d'emploi

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[ryuzakemo128]

The Angel Of Death Themed Playlist

I had this idea of making a playlist for the main character of the fanfiction "The Angel Of Death" aka Red. As she's the first character I have written that I enjoyed completely this year.

A playlist of songs that make me think of Red. The reader insert character I have created.

Red

Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows By Lesley Gore. -

Shut Up By Mia Rodriguez

Golden Brown By The Stranglers

Somewhere We Only Know By Reneé Dominique -

Dodged A Bullet By Greg Laswell

Sour Cherry By The Kills

Midnight Breaks By Amber Spill

Take Care by HM Surf

Flatlands by Chelsea Wolfe

Feral Love by Chelsea Wolfe

I hope anyone looking at this playlist discover a new type of genre or get into the general vibe of what kind of character I'm trying to create.

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: I enjoyed reading your posts about Napoleon’s death and it’s quite timely given its the 200th anniversary of his death this year in May. I was wondering, because you know a lot about military history (your served right? That’s cool to fly combat helicopters) and you live in France but aren’t French, what your take was on Napoleon and how do the French view him? Do they hail him as a hero or do they like others see him like a Hitler or a Stalin? Do you see him as a hero or a villain of history?

5 May 1821 was a memorable date because Napoleon, one of the most iconic figures in world history, died while in bitter exile on a remote island in the South Atlantic Ocean. Napoleon Bonaparte, as you know rose from obscure soldier to a kind of new Caesar, and yet he remains a uniquely controversial figure to this day especially in France. You raise interesting questions about Napoleon and his legacy. If I may reframe your questions in another way. Should we think of him as a flawed but essentially heroic visionary who changed Europe for the better? Or was he simply a military dictator, whose cult of personality and lust for power set a template for the likes of Hitler? 

However one chooses to answer this question can we just - to get this out of the way - simply and definitively say that Napoleon was not Hitler. Not even close. No offence intended to you but this is just dumb ahistorical thinking and it’s a lazy lie. This comparison was made by some in the horrid aftermath of the Second World War but only held little currency for only a short time thereafter. Obviously that view didn’t exist before Hitler in the 19th Century and these days I don’t know any serious historian who takes that comparison seriously.

I confess I don’t have a definitive answer if he was a hero or a villain one way or the other because Napoleon has really left a very complicated legacy. It really depends on where you’re coming from.

As a staunch Brit I do take pride in Britain’s victorious war against Napoleonic France - and in a good natured way rubbing it in the noses of French friends at every opportunity I get because it’s in our cultural DNA and it’s bloody good fun (why else would we make Waterloo train station the London terminus of the Eurostar international rail service from its opening in 1994? Or why hang a huge gilded portrait of the Duke of Wellington as the first thing that greets any visitor to the residence of the British ambassador at the British Embassy?). On a personal level I take special pride in knowing my family ancestors did their bit on the battlefield to fight against Napoleon during those tumultuous times. However, as an ex-combat veteran who studied Napoleonic warfare with fan girl enthusiasm, I have huge respect for Napoleon as a brilliant military commander. And to makes things more weird, as a Francophile resident of who loves living and working in France (and my partner is French) I have a grudging but growing regard for Napoleon’s political and cultural legacy, especially when I consider the current dross of political mediocrity on both the political left and the right. So for me it’s a complicated issue how I feel about Napoleon, the man, the soldier, and the political leader.

If it’s not so straightforward for me to answer the for/against Napoleon question then it It’s especially true for the French, who even after 200 years, still have fiercely divided opinions about Napoleon and his legacy - but intriguingly, not always in clear cut ways.

I only have to think about my French neighbours in my apartment building to see how divisive Napoleon the man and his legacy is. Over the past year or so of the Covid lockdown we’ve all gotten to know each other better and we help each other. Over the Covid year we’ve gathered in the inner courtyard for a buffet and just lifted each other spirits up.

One of my neighbours, a crusty old ex-general in the army who has an enviable collection of military history books that I steal, liberate, borrow, often discuss military figures in history like Napoleon over our regular games of chess and a glass of wine. He is from very old aristocracy of the ancien regime and whose family suffered at the hands of ‘madame guillotine’ during the French Revolution. They lost everything. He has mixed emotions about Napoleon himself as an old fashioned monarchist. As a military man he naturally admires the man and the military genius but he despises the secularisation that the French Revolution ushered in as well as the rise of the haute bourgeois as middle managers and bureaucrats by the displacement of the aristocracy.

Another retired widowed neighbour I am close to, and with whom I cook with often and discuss art, is an active arts patron and ex-art gallery owner from a very wealthy family that came from the new Napoleonic aristocracy - ie the aristocracy of the Napoleonic era that Napoleon put in place - but she is dismissive of such titles and baubles. She’s a staunch Republican but is happy to concede she is grateful for Napoleon in bringing order out of chaos. She recognises her own ambivalence when she says she dislikes him for reintroducing slavery in the French colonies but also praises him for firmly supporting Paris’s famed Comédie-Française of which she was a past patron.

Another French neighbour, a senior civil servant in the Elysée, is quite dismissive of Napoleon as a war monger but is grudgingly grateful for civil institutions and schools that Napoleon established and which remain in place today.

My other neighbours - whether they be French families or foreign expats like myself - have similarly divisive and complicated attitudes towards Napoleon.

In 2010 an opinion poll in France asked who was the most important man in French history. Napoleon came second, behind General Charles de Gaulle, who led France from exile during the German occupation in World War II and served as a postwar president.

The split in French opinion is closely mirrored in political circles. The divide is generally down political party lines. On the left, there's the 'black legend' of Bonaparte as an ogre. On the right, there is the 'golden legend' of a strong leader who created durable institutions.

Jacques-Olivier Boudon, a history professor at Paris-Sorbonne University and president of the Napoléon Institute, once explained at a talk I attended that French public opinion has always remained deeply divided over Napoleon, with, on the one hand, those who admire the great man, the conqueror, the military leader and, on the other, those who see him as a bloodthirsty tyrant, the gravedigger of the revolution. Politicians in France, Boudon observed, rarely refer to Napoleon for fear of being accused of authoritarian temptations, or not being good Republicans.

On the left-wing of French politics, former prime minister Lionel Jospin penned a controversial best selling book entitled “the Napoleonic Evil” in which he accused the emperor of “perverting the ideas of the Revolution” and imposing “a form of extreme domination”, “despotism” and “a police state” on the French people. He wrote Napoleon was "an obvious failure" - bad for France and the rest of Europe. When he was booted out into final exile, France was isolated, beaten, occupied, dominated, hated and smaller than before. What's more, Napoleon smothered the forces of emancipation awakened by the French and American revolutions and enabled the survival and restoration of monarchies. Some of the legacies with which Napoleon is credited, including the Civil Code, the comprehensive legal system replacing a hodgepodge of feudal laws, were proposed during the revolution, Jospin argued, though he acknowledges that Napoleon actually delivered them, but up to a point, "He guaranteed some principles of the revolution and, at the same time, changed its course, finished it and betrayed it," For instance, Napoleon reintroduced slavery in French colonies, revived a system that allowed the rich to dodge conscription in the military and did nothing to advance gender equality.

At the other end of the spectrum have been former right-wing prime minister Dominique de Villepin, an aristocrat who was once fancied as a future President, a passionate collector of Napoleonic memorabilia, and author of several works on the subject. As a Napoleonic enthusiast he tells a different story. Napoleon was a saviour of France. If there had been no Napoleon, the Republic would not have survived. Advocates like de Villepin point to Napoleon’s undoubted achievements: the Civil Code, the Council of State, the Bank of France, the National Audit office, a centralised and coherent administrative system, lycées, universities, centres of advanced learning known as école normale, chambers of commerce, the metric system, and an honours system based on merit (which France has to this day). He restored the Catholic faith as the state faith but allowed for the freedom of religion for other faiths including Protestantism and Judaism. These were ambitions unachieved during the chaos of the revolution. As it is, these Napoleonic institutions continue to function and underpin French society. Indeed, many were copied in countries conquered by Napoleon, such as Italy, Germany and Poland, and laid the foundations for the modern state.

Back in 2014, French politicians and institutions in particular were nervous in marking the 200th anniversary of Napoleon's exile. My neighbours and other French friends remember that the commemorations centred around the Chateau de Fontainebleau, the traditional home of the kings of France and was the scene where Napoleon said farewell to the Old Guard in the "White Horse Courtyard" (la cour du Cheval Blanc) at the Palace of Fontainebleau. (The courtyard has since been renamed the "Courtyard of Goodbyes".) By all accounts the occasion was very moving. The 1814 Treaty of Fontainebleau stripped Napoleon of his powers (but not his title as Emperor of the French) and sent him into exile on Elba. The cost of the Fontainebleau "farewell" and scores of related events over those three weekends was shouldered not by the central government in Paris but by the local château, a historic monument and UNESCO World Heritage site, and the town of Fontainebleau.

While the 200th anniversary of the French Revolution that toppled the monarchy and delivered thousands to death by guillotine was officially celebrated in 1989, Napoleonic anniversaries are neither officially marked nor celebrated. For example, over a decade ago, the president and prime minister - at the time, Jacques Chirac and Dominque de Villepin - boycotted a ceremony marking the 200th anniversary of the battle of Austerlitz, Napoleon's greatest military victory. Both men were known admirers of Napoleon and yet political calculation and optics (as media spin doctors say) stopped them from fully honouring Napoleon’s crowning military glory.

Optics is everything. The division of opinion in France is perhaps best reflected in the fact that, in a city not shy of naming squares and streets after historical figures, there is not a single “Boulevard Napoleon” or “Place Napoleon” in Paris. On the streets of Paris, there are just two statues of Napoleon. One stands beneath the clock tower at Les Invalides (a military hospital), the other atop a column in the Place Vendôme. Napoleon's red marble tomb, in a crypt under the Invalides dome, is magnificent, perhaps because his remains were interred there during France's Second Empire, when his nephew, Napoleon III, was on the throne.

There are no squares, nor places, nor boulevards named for Napoleon but as far as I know there is one narrow street, the rue Bonaparte, running from the Luxembourg Gardens to the River Seine in the old Latin Quarter. And, that, too, is thanks to Napoleon III. For many, and I include myself, it’s a poor return by the city to the man who commissioned some of its most famous monuments, including the Arc de Triomphe and the Pont des Arts over the River Seine.

It's almost as if Napoleon Bonaparte is not part of the national story.

How Napoleon fits into that national story is something historians, French and non-French, have been grappling with ever since Napoleon died. The plain fact is Napoleon divides historians, what precisely he represents is deeply ambiguous and his political character is the subject of heated controversy. It’s hard for historians to sift through archival documents to make informed judgements and still struggle to separate the man from the myth.

One proof of this myth is in his immortality. After Hitler’s death, there was mostly an embarrassed silence; after Stalin’s, little but denunciation. But when Napoleon died on St Helena in 1821, much of Europe and the Americas could not help thinking of itself as a post-Napoleonic generation. His presence haunts the pages of Stendhal and Alfred de Vigny. In a striking and prescient phrase, Chateaubriand prophesied the “despotism of his memory”, a despotism of the fantastical that in many ways made Romanticism possible and that continues to this day.

The raw material for the future Napoleon myth was provided by one of his St Helena confidants, the Comte de las Cases, whose account of conversations with the great man came out shortly after his death and ran in repeated editions throughout the century. De las Cases somehow metamorphosed the erstwhile dictator into a herald of liberty, the emperor into a slayer of dynasties rather than the founder of his own. To the “great man” school of history Napoleon was grist to their mill, and his meteoric rise redefined the meaning of heroism in the modern world.

The Marxists, for all their dislike of great men, grappled endlessly with the meaning of the 18th Brumaire; indeed one of France’s most eminent Marxist historians, George Lefebvre, wrote what arguably remains the finest of all biographies of him.

It was on this already vast Napoleon literature, a rich terrain for the scholar of ideas, that the great Dutch historian Pieter Geyl was lecturing in 1940 when he was arrested and sent to Buchenwald. There he composed what became one of the classics of historiography, a seminal book entitled Napoleon: For and Against, which charted how generations of intellectuals had happily served up one Napoleon after another. Like those poor souls who crowded the lunatic asylums of mid-19th century France convinced that they were Napoleon, generations of historians and novelists simply could not get him out of their head.

The debate runs on today no less intensely than in the past. Post-Second World War Marxists would argue that he was not, in fact, revolutionary at all. Eric Hobsbawm, a notable British Marxist historian, argued that ‘Most-perhaps all- of his ideas were anticipated by the Revolution’ and that Napoleon’s sole legacy was to twist the ideals of the French Revolution, and make them ‘more conservative, hierarchical and authoritarian’.

This contrasts deeply with the view William Doyle holds of Napoleon. Doyle described Bonaparte as ‘the Revolution incarnate’ and saw Bonaparte’s humbling of Europe’s other powers, the ‘Ancien Regimes’, as a necessary precondition for the birth of the modern world. Whatever one thinks of Napoleon’s character, his sharp intellect is difficult to deny. Even Paul Schroeder, one of Napoleon’s most scathing critics, who condemned his conduct of foreign policy as a ‘criminal enterprise’ never denied Napoleon’s intellect. Schroder concluded that Bonaparte ‘had an extraordinary capacity for planning, decision making, memory, work, mastery of detail and leadership’.  The question of whether Napoleon used his genius for the betterment or the detriment of the world, is the heart of the debate which surrounds him.

France's foremost Napoleonic scholar, Jean Tulard, put forward the thesis that Bonaparte was the architect of modern France. "And I would say also pâtissier [a cake and pastry maker] because of the administrative millefeuille that we inherited." Oddly enough, in North America the multilayered mille-feuille cake is called ‘a napoleon.’ Tulard’s works are essential reading of how French historians have come to tackle the question of Napoleon’s legacy. He takes the view that if Napoleon had not crushed a Royalist rebellion and seized power in 1799, the French monarchy and feudalism would have returned, Tulard has written. "Like Cincinnatus in ancient Rome, Napoleon wanted a dictatorship of public salvation. He gets all the power, and, when the project is finished, he returns to his plough." In the event, the old order was never restored in France. When Louis XVIII became emperor in 1814, he served as a constitutional monarch.

In England, until recently the views on Napoleon have traditionally less charitable and more cynical. Professor Christopher Clark, the notable Cambridge University European historian, has written. "Napoleon was not a French patriot - he was first a Corsican and later an imperial figure, a journey in which he bypassed any deep affiliation with the French nation," Clark believed Napoleon’s relationship with the French Revolution is deeply ambivalent.

Did he stabilise the revolutionary state or shut it down mercilessly? Clark believes Napoleon seems to have done both. Napoleon rejected democracy, he suffocated the representative dimension of politics, and he created a culture of courtly display. A month before crowning himself emperor, Napoleon sought approval for establishing an empire from the French in a plebiscite; 3,572,329 voted in favour, 2,567 against. If that landslide resembles an election in North Korea, well, this was no secret ballot. Each ‘yes’ or ‘no’ was recorded, along with the name and address of the voter. Evidently, an overwhelming majority knew which side their baguette was buttered on.

His extravagant coronation in Notre Dame in December 1804 cost 8.5 million francs (€6.5 million or $8.5 million in today's money). He made his brothers, sisters and stepchildren kings, queens, princes and princesses and created a Napoleonic aristocracy numbering 3,500. By any measure, it was a bizarre progression for someone often described as ‘a child of the Revolution.’ By crowning himself emperor, the genuine European kings who surrounded him were not convinced. Always a warrior first, he tried to represent himself as a Caesar, and he wears a Roman toga on the bas-reliefs in his tomb. His coronation crown, a laurel wreath made of gold, sent the same message. His icon, the eagle, was also borrowed from Rome. But Caesar's legitimacy depended on military victories. Ultimately, Napoleon suffered too many defeats.

These days Napoleon the man and his times remain very much in fashion and we are living through something of a new golden age of Napoleonic literature. Those historians who over the past decade or so have had fun denouncing him as the first totalitarian dictator seem to have it all wrong: no angel, to be sure, he ended up doing far more at far less cost than any modern despot. In his widely praised 2014 biography, Napoleon the Great, Andrew Roberts writes: “The ideas that underpin our modern world - meritocracy, equality before the law, property rights, religious toleration, modern secular education, sound finances, and so on - were championed, consolidated, codified and geographically extended by Napoleon. To them he added a rational and efficient local administration, an end to rural banditry, the encouragement of science and the arts, the abolition of feudalism and the greatest codification of laws since the fall of the Roman empire.”

Roberts partly bases his historical judgement on newly released historical documents about Napoleon that were only available in the past decade and has proved to be a boon for all Napoleonic scholars. Newly released 33,000 letters Napoleon wrote that still survive are now used extensively to illustrate the astonishing capacity that Napoleon had for compartmentalising his mind - he laid down the rules for a girls’ boarding school on the eve of the battle of Borodino, for example, and the regulations for Paris’s Comédie-Française while camped in the Kremlin. They also show Napoleon’s extraordinary capacity for micromanaging his empire: he would write to the prefect of Genoa telling him not to allow his mistress into his box at the theatre, and to a corporal of the 13th Line regiment warning him not to drink so much.

For me to have my own perspective on Napoleon is tough. The problem is that nothing with Napoleon is simple, and almost every aspect of his personality is a maddening paradox. He was a military genius who led disastrous campaigns. He was a liberal progressive who reinstated slavery in the French colonies. And take the French Revolution, which came just before Napoleon’s rise to power, his relationship with the French Revolution is deeply ambivalent. Did he stabilise it or shut it down? I agree with those British and French historians who now believe Napoleon seems to have done both.

On the one hand, Napoleon did bring order to a nation that had been drenched in blood in the years after the Revolution. The French people had endured the crackdown known as the 'Reign of Terror', which saw so many marched to the guillotine, as well as political instability, corruption, riots and general violence. Napoleon’s iron will managed to calm the chaos. But he also rubbished some of the core principles of the Revolution. A nation which had boldly brought down the monarchy had to watch as Napoleon crowned himself Emperor, with more power and pageantry than Louis XVI ever had. He also installed his relatives as royals across Europe, creating a new aristocracy. In the words of French politician and author Lionel Jospin, 'He guaranteed some principles of the Revolution and at the same time, changed its course, finished it and betrayed it.'

He also had a feared henchman in the form of Joseph Fouché, who ran a secret police network which instilled dread in the population. Napoleon’s spies were everywhere, stifling political opposition. Dozens of newspapers were suppressed or shut down. Books had to be submitted for approval to the Commission of Revision, which sounds like something straight out of George Orwell. Some would argue Hitler and Stalin followed this playbook perfectly. But here come the contradictions. Napoleon also championed education for all, founding a network of schools. He championed the rights of the Jews. In the territories conquered by Napoleon, laws which kept Jews cooped up in ghettos were abolished. 'I will never accept any proposals that will obligate the Jewish people to leave France,' he once said, 'because to me the Jews are the same as any other citizen in our country.'

He also, crucially, developed the Napoleonic Code, a set of laws which replaced the messy, outdated feudal laws that had been used before. The Napoleonic Code clearly laid out civil laws and due processes, establishing a society based on merit and hard work, rather than privilege. It was rolled out far beyond France, and indisputably helped to modernise Europe. While it certainly had its flaws – women were ignored by its reforms, and were essentially regarded as the property of men – the Napoleonic Code is often brandished as the key evidence for Napoleon’s progressive credentials. In the words of historian Andrew Roberts, author of Napoleon the Great, 'the ideas that underpin our modern world… were championed by Napoleon'.

What about Napoleon’s battlefield exploits? If anything earns comparisons with Hitler, it’s Bonaparte’s apparent appetite for conquest. His forces tore down republics across Europe, and plundered works of art, much like the Nazis would later do. A rampant imperialist, Napoleon gleefully grabbed some of the greatest masterpieces of the Renaissance, and allegedly boasted, 'the whole of Rome is in Paris.'

Napoleon has long enjoyed a stellar reputation as a field commander – his capacities as a military strategist, his ability to read a battle, the painstaking detail with which he made sure that he cold muster a larger force than his adversary or took maximum advantage of the lie of the land – these are stuff of the military legend that has built up around him. It is not without its critics, of course, especially among those who have worked intensively on the later imperial campaigns, in the Peninsula, in Russia, or in the final days of the Empire at Waterloo.

Doubts about his judgment, and allegations of rashness, have been raised in the context of some of his victories, too, most notably, perhaps, at Marengo. But overall his reputation remains largely intact, and his military campaigns have been taught in the curricula of military academies from Saint-Cyr to Sandhurst, alongside such great tacticians as Alexander the Great and Hannibal.

Historians may query his own immodest opinion that his presence on the battlefield was worth an extra forty thousand men to his cause, but it is clear that when he was not present (as he was not for most of the campaign in Spain) the French were wont to struggle. Napoleon understood the value of speed and surprise, but also of structures and loyalties. He reformed the army by introducing the corps system, and he understood military aspirations, rewarding his men with medals and honours; all of which helped ensure that he commanded exceptional levels of personal loyalty from his troops.

Yet, I do find it hard to side with the more staunch defenders of Napoleon who say his reputation as a war monger is to some extent due to British propaganda at the time. They will point out that the Napoleonic Wars, far from being Napoleon’s fault, were just a continuation of previous conflicts that arose thanks to the French Revolution. Napoleon, according to this analysis, inherited a messy situation, and his only real crime was to be very good at defeating enemies on the battlefield. I think that is really pushing things too far. I mean deciding to invade Spain and then Russia were his decisions to invade and conquer.

He was, by any measure, a genius of war. Even his nemesis the Duke of Wellington, when asked who the greatest general of his time was, replied: 'In this age, in past ages, in any age, Napoleon.'

I will qualify all this and agree that Napoleon’s Russian campaign has been rightly held up as a fatal folly which killed so many of his men, but this blunder – epic as it was – should not be compared to Hitler’s wars of evil aggression. Most historians will agree that comparing the two men is horribly flattering to Hitler - a man fuelled by visceral, genocidal hate - and demeaning to Napoleon, who was a product of Enlightenment thinking and left a legacy that in many ways improved Europe.

Napoleon was, of course, no libertarian, and no pluralist. He would tolerate no opposition to his rule, and though it was politicians and civilians who imposed his reforms, the army was never far behind. But comparisons with twentieth-century dictators are well wide of the mark. While he insisted on obedience from those he administered, his ideology was based not on division or hatred, but on administrative efficiency and submission to the law. And the state he believed in remained stubbornly secular.

In Catholic southern Europe, of course, that was not an approach with which it was easy to acquiesce; and disorder, insurgency and partisan attacks can all be counted among the results. But these were principles on which the Emperor would not and could not give ground. If he had beliefs they were not religious or spiritual beliefs, but the secular creed of a man who never forgot that he owed both his military career and his meteoric political rise to the French Revolution, and who never quite abandoned, amidst the monarchical symbolism and the court pomp of the Empire, the republican dreams of his youth. When he claimed, somewhat ambiguously, after the coup of 18 Brumaire that `the Revolution was over’, he almost certainly meant that the principles of 1789 had at last been consummated, and that the continuous cycle of violence of the 1790s could therefore come to an end.

When the Empire was declared in 1804, the wording, again, might seem curious, the French being informed that the `Republic would henceforth be ruled by an Emperor’. Napoleon might be a dictator, but a part at least of him remained a son of the Enlightenment.

The arguments over Napoleon’s status will continue - and that in itself is a testament to the power of one of the most complex figures ever to straddle the world’s stage.

Will the fascination with Napoleon continue for another 200 years?

In France, at least, enthusiasm looks set to diminish. Napoleon and his exploits are scarcely mentioned in French schools anymore. Stéphane Guégan, curator of the Musée d'Orsay in Paris, which, among other First Empire artworks, houses a plaster model of Napoleon dressed as a Roman emperor astride a horse, has described France's fascination with him as ‘a national illness.’ He believes that the people who met him were fascinated by his charm. And today, even the most hostile to Napoleon also face this charm. So there is a difficulty to apprehend the duality of this character. As he wrote, “He was born from the revolution, he extended and finished it, and after 1804 he turns into a despot, a dictator.”

In France, Guégan aptly observes, there is a kind of nostalgia, not for dictatorship but for strong leaders. "Our age is suffering a lack of imagination and political utopia,"

Here I think Guégan is onto something. Napoleon’s stock has always risen or fallen according to the vicissitudes of world events and fortunes of France itself.

In the past, history was the study of great men and women. Today the focus of teaching is on trends, issues and movements. France in 1800 is no longer about Louis XVI and Napoleon Bonaparte. It's about the industrial revolution. Man does not make history. History makes men. Or does it? The study of history makes a mug out of those with such simple ideological driven conceits.

For two hundred years on, the French still cannot agree on whether Napoleon was a hero or a villain as he has swung like a pendulum according to the gravitational pull of historical events and forces.

The question I keep asking of myself and also to French friends with whom I discuss such things is what kind of Napoleon does our generation need?

Thanks for your question.