#carhaix

[postcard-from-the-past]

Young woman from Carhaix, Brittany region of France

French vintage postcard

[wild-wombytch]

Anyway, if any of you come and visit Brittany or just go to this fest, DM me! I'd be more than happy to be a tour guide and I have a 3P tent for the fest if needs be! Can also teach you some French if you want to talk to vendors or we can just fist bump.

Some of the female owned businesses I bought stuff from : (if you need, I can translate stuff from the artists' websites or help you write a message to the artists in French)

Art Celtique a small business owned by the sweetest mamm-goh! I'm 100% coming back next year to eat pastries with her over a tea, idc. Lots of Breton-themed curios. Pins, patches, handmade soaps, Saints statues (Sant Ivo, Santez Anna, Sant Konan...) [btw Saints in Brittany are more like a remnant of a cult of the deads that was Christianised than something really recognised by the Church], shirts, local leather-crafted bracelets and the traditional white and blue bowls with your name on (that aren't Made in China like most of those you'll find elsewhere, you actually have to order them or be lucky. You can call in advance so you pick up yours after the festival! The shop is essentially her house, so she can let you get them at your discretion)

She's a bit of a punk at heart and was really sweet to talk to. She has a lady cat, Minnig (small name of "Hermine", also the nickname of Anna of Brittany, Duchess of Brittany and later Queen of France) watching over the shop and begging to be pet!! Careful, the doorbell is a bit surprising! Butches : she also sells ties and bowties and axes pendants!

Shirt reads "Breizh Metal"

[No pic available]

Ose small metaphysical shop. I only bought some incense and balm so nothing you won't see elsewhere, however the owner is more of an artist than anything and makes her own candles and decorations. She has decorative potions that are like snowballs but cooler, changing colours and stuff. She resells a lot from local crafters and artist. Her brother is a tattoo artist nearby and designed this year's Motocultor's shirt, so she had pins and stuff with that design and other exclusive stuff. Also sells keychains with colorful wichy cats and beautiful gemstone jewels and gems. Some tarots, of course. She also sell hand gathered and hand made plant balms and tinctures from a friend and second hands books and tarot/oracle decks (her philosophy is that books are to be read by as many people as possible). She's very kind and upbeat and was delightful to talk to. She's obviously a lover of craft arts. She drew me in with her music and incenses.

I don't have the name of this business. Forgive me, it was 2am and I was piss drunk.

Anyway, ma'am is a middle-aged Latina who does the leatherwork herself (lots of macrame) and does the most STUNNING jewels. Lots of them were beautiful but too femme for me, just like the lacey clothes also sold here. I didn't think of taking a pic either. I found a "labrys" earring there. Anyway, she sold her stuff directly on the festival's lawn, and apparently is here every year (again, I'm not sure anymore, I was a few liters of cider ahead of sobriety 💀). Lots of these shits would likely have a lot of you alty and lesbian girlies to succumb to the evil of spending money. It's not even much in proportion of the handiwork that got into the items. That small business is a treasure!

La-Lori is such a talented illustrator and was very patient with my drunken ass, like the following seller.

I fell in love with her (non-sexualised nor beheaded...it's harder to find that one may think) Medusa (who got the owner of the metaphysical shop Ose gush about when she saw my shirt. Three women, three based tastes). My blurry pics don't do her work justice, it's extremely detailed and the colors aren't toothpaste white, they actually blend amazingly on the shirts! Her dark aesthetic is so tasteful and you can tell a lot of thinking and spirituality got into the symbols and the way things are drawn. I'm in love for real!

Texts reads "Medusa" and either "Horned You" or "Horned God" depending on how you read it.

Poulettes-Sisters and their sister site for activism Poulette d'Assaut. The aesthetic here is more pin-up/femme, and I think more libfem, but I really wanted to support these queens! The staff is female only except for the photographer and treasurer.

I couldn't see their other stand, but they proposed to glitter up your faces while discussing feminism and selling mugs and stuff. I think they might have been near the SSV table, which sold anti-drug cups lids and condoms and talked about sexism.

In terms of activism, they do girls only nights in bars (wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't sex-based), take donations to gift menstrual products to women and girls who don't have the money for that and they also take second hand bags to give to modest kids along with school items while talking about feminism to students. Their photographer also shot portraits of female festivalers last year, to show the face of those who are often erased from punk/metal. You can support them on their second page.

Since the pics were a bit awkward to take : the first tops says "Born to kick your ass", "Fucking Fabulous" and "Irreducible". The pin is "Power Rageuse" (rageuse = female hater) and the last shirt says "All women are witches", "Fuck Misogyny" and "Unchain your Poulette power" ("poulette" could be translated to "chick", which is often derogatory -but less and less used- when said by men but usually affectionate and not sexual at all in nature when used by women, often close to each other or addressing a little girl). Illustrator is credited as Cerise-la-Castagne! They also gave me a sticker and their wrapping was super cool.

Motocultor 2024, Friday the 16th, Karaez, Poher (Kernev) and neighbouring cities and landscapes

(Too many passerby/friends in my other pics that could be identified, that's why I'm not posting much of the festival itself)

It was my first Motocultor. A friend kindly abducted me into going there. Honestly, great experience. If the organisation stays as it is, it is safe for women to go alone. There is a libfem association that was patrolling to ensure it. There were a lot of women (including in security and staff), it was quite accessible for people with physical disabilities. Toilets are clean and well thought. Everyone sleeps about everywhere on the festival undisturbed. There are many tasty vegan/vegetarian options in foods (and a good selection of Asian and African foods). You can dress however you want without being harassed (some women were in bras for comfort -yours included- and there were male travestites and they seemed to feel safe). Also, you can wash yourself/brush your teeth, fix your muddy shoes etc about 5min of walk outside of the fest (technically there is water on the fest but it's less crowded outside and actually made for that purpose (it's a sport's spot).

The vibe it gave was very libfem, so don't expect some activist radical lesbians everywhere, of course, or to not see bdsm stuff or performances of feminity. But it was still better than most festivals with a lot of very toxic macho males a lot of people don't feel safe around. They had stuff to protect your drinks and your ears. They had power banks. You have a market so if any of your clothes for some reason tear or whatever you can find some stuff. The light is well thought so there aren't dark isolated corners. The control of items at the entrance is good. You can have a cashless account you can add money to in advance as soon as you have your ticket, so you don't need physical money. You just need a credit card if you want to buy merch, but you can 100% come to the festival without credit cards or money anywhere else than in the bracelet they give you at the entrance. Also, Nazi symbols were explicitly banned in the rules THANKS FUCKING HELL. But according to the girls who were our tents neighbours, the other fest in this city, Les Vieilles Charrues, had some of those guys as well. Be careful for festivals in France in general (especially WOC), the people are becoming properly insane and violent these days. For the head up, as far as I know this is a far left separatist city, so people here are Bretons, not French. We unite in hatred of Paris.

The musics were a bit of everything. It depends of the days. We had Faun and Opeth at the same time, to give an idea. Some groups were rap/metal, other electro/metal, folk/metal, symphonic/metal and uh....well, just listen to Igorrr yourself, I can't explain it but it was fire and rhe female singer was fucking POSSESSED she was amazing and touching and funny as hell. We had punk on the Saturday, a good amount of female bands in comparison to other fests. Not just metalheads in the public, a lot of punks and other alt cultures as well. Booze was great (and unlike the previous fest I've been to where we got harassed by homophobic white supremacists, there was coffee and energy drinks, as it should).

Camping was crowded but had a good mentality. We had about twenty people cheering for us when we were trying to put the tent back in its bag. We asked for a Qeshua expert around and ended up at five people trying to wrap it up like idiots. Then -of course it was a woman 😭✨- Our Lady of Qeshua came out of thin air to our rescue and wrap that shit up on her own in about 30s, like a proper badass. I love you my sister in tent. Also we had the honour of witness a 4am dumpsters joust and the next day to talk with one of the dumpster warriors. So uh...maybe bring earplugs if you intend on actually sleeping. There is also the Makumba here, where it's purposely shitty and memeish old pop songs being played and remixed for people who are still alive and not dead-drunk after 2am. We did shitty dance. It was funny. Except I was tired, in sandals (because honestly fuck combat boots after one to many miles of walk and pogo) and it took about 2min for someone to spill his whole beer on my feet and for another dude crowd surfing in my back and falling from the sky on me (I'm fine, I believe he is?). The morning, if younre early you may miss the queue for a well-deserved watery coffee.

Honestly the ticket is expensive for my budget (now kinda dead because I shamefully admit I fell a bit for the capitalist evil. But I'm wealthier of sturdy leathers that will last a lifetime and supporting a lot of female owned businesses) but it ended up being a wonderful investment! 100% recommand (maybe 1-2 day for a start, because you need a medal if you survive to 4 days).

[chemiosmotic]

well. TECHNICALLY my codename gem prediction was right.

[paolo-streito-1264]

Pierre Le Gall. Towards Carhaix, 1974.

[radicalgraff]

"Death to the State, Long live Anarchy"

Seen in Carhaix, France

[ranticore]

I thought I'd make a quick "here's how u pronounce" for some names/words in inver & hibernogallic (the french language spoken there)

If I was really hardcore about it I'd post voice clips of me saying the words but if I did then u would know that i am shocking bad at french

Inver - not pronounced like the real world place Inver. It's more like "awn-ver"

Esk - not what you think - try to mash "esk" and "ash" into one word while you say it Comes from the first syllable of Eiscir.

Félix - sorry fellas it's "fay-LEES" as in 'lease'.

Senca - that's "San-ka"

Islin - you can pelt me with sticks and rocks for this one. It's "Ish-la"

Ó Donnchadha [Islin's surname] - irl this is the root of "O Donohue" but it's not spoken that way. "Dun-a-ha" is the best way I can write that without explaining how lenition sounds ('cha')

Erica - short for Ericales so it's like "er-ee-ka", not the feminine form of Eric.

Sionnach [Eri's surname]- "shun-ach" again with the soft ch. You can google how to pronounce that one

Carhaix - no fuckin clue I think it's car-ay

Lough - just say "lock" don't even try anything else

D'Ouilly - it's like Dwilly but ppl in Inver sometimes call them Dawleys.

Sidhe - you know how to pronounce this one

Searrach - if you got Sionnach right then you can work this one out too I believe in you

Amhan - that's "awan" and yes from the same root as avon

Invergorken - from Inbhearr Ceann, locals would scrub out the middle syllable and just say "Inverken". You can tell an outsider by their more careful pronunciation

Síofra - "shee-fra"

Valéry - not like Valerie, heavy stress on the second syllable so it's "vaLERy"

Ye - everyone is wrong about this. It's not "yeh" it's YEE and it's a plural "you". Similar to yous, yeez, or y'all

Wycombe - a real place I've been to multiple times and we'd see the road signs and go ahh it's WHY-CUM-BEE but it is in fact pronounced wiccam or if you prefer, Wickham. Basically the only time I let a character have an English name.

Some additional notes on the language - it's mutually intelligible with hibernian and aquitanian but considered really ugly by native speakers of both those languages. The most common complaint is that it sounds like someone speaking their language through a mouthful of rocks

There are no standalone words for "yes" or "no" - when they are used (and I made sure while writing that they are not used often in dialogue), it's usually as an additional affirmative in a sentence, and not in answer to a question. I slipped up a few times tho

To answer a question in the affirmative or negative instead of saying yes or no, you just repeat the verb from the question - "did you sleep?"/"I did" - "have you seen this?"/"I haven't"

[clementineskesh]

Transcript

Stargrave Elcessor is sitting in her office just repeatedly pressing the button, just over and over again. Click, click, click, click, click. She's watching her feeds, hoping that it will explode, hoping that she will die, that everyone will die, because to her, death is less scary than the threat of fundamental real change.

[Nothing is Stationary starts playing]

But nothing happens when she hits the button. Nothing will ever happen when she hits the button ever again, when anyone hits this button ever again. And to be clear, by taking them offline, it's not just that you've prevented them from exploding. It's that, you know, exploding is their secondary function already. It used to be that these things were built to explode. But for the Divine Principality, stellar combustors were built to prevent explosions, metaphorical and mundane. They are a threat meant to pause possibility, to halt history itself.

And that is what deactivating the stellar combustors has done. This is what Millennium Break has done. It's opened up history. It's created possibility for people across the galaxy. Boots are still on necks, but the biggest hammer, the sharpest knife, the strongest disincentive against pushing back is gone.

And they might do it quietly. But the people on Tartarus 5 celebrate. On Lonn and to Helaine Delta in Thulsa and Xenacip. They celebrate on Bhopal Kha and Maine and Bishamonten, on Carjal and Isfahan and all the rest. On research stations and refineries and on standard spread worlds: not everyone, not every one, but some people touch hands and light candles and some launch fireworks and hide before anyone asks any questions

And some people make plans. On Altar and Brighton and Crown and Gift-3, they make plans. On Moonlock and Seneschal and Skein, on Thyrsis, and on Volition, and on the Brink, and all throughout the Twilight Mirage, they make plans. And in Sinder Karst and in Joyous Guard, in Carhaix, on the Isle of the Broken Key, in City City, on New Oath, in the Crown of Glass, in Baseline; all across Palisade, the plans are already in motion.

Jade Kill: in motion. Violet Cove and Rose River, Carmine Bight and Gray Pond: in motion. The Blue Channel: they're moving on them now, because against all odds tomorrow is coming and it brings more work. And for the first time in weeks, the sun will feel good on their skin as they do it.

[leahsfiction]

PALISADE 20: In Their Fear Pt. 1 (00:22:21–00:29:57)

“Well, the good news is that it’s still 3 Grip, which means that—”

“Yeah.”

“—we will have a chance to take care of this.”

“Jack? Take it away.”

Something bad is in the air. Bilat crafts teeter in the sky like anxious flies. The distant sound of heavy ships taking off in great black columns of launch smoke. Everything seems too bright. The day is too warm. The headache sits on your forehead and on your temples.

In Carhaix, someone drops a tray of wine glasses. Pleasure yachts and private transit gather at the closed Portcullis Gate, and as it opens vanish into distant Principality space, passing ship after ship of settlers as they pour into the Palisade System.

In the early afternoon, the sun dims, and a red band of light appears around the middle of it, like a bauble wrapped in a ribbon, or a horrible mirror of the Diadem. It’s dim enough to look at directly, but it still hurts your eyes. There is a whine in the air. Every couple of hours there is a rumble of radiation static, and a corona jets from the surface of the sun.

The animals respond in fear. Birds rise, suddenly alarmed, from the trees, or cower silently in crowded branches. Rabbits and foxes freeze, dumb, in the middle of walkways. Ants rise en masse from cracks in the walls. Rivers seem to run slow, with an algaed stink.

Some of the spies know nothing and continue as usual, keeping their mouths shut, answering questions curtly, bargaining limitedly for clemency. When others see the quality of light in the room change, and the demeanour of the people around them alter—why do the calls to Gucci Garantine keep getting dropped? What was that scream of Nidean engines overhead?—they change their tune quickly. They start making specific bargains. Get me off-world. Get me through the Portcullis Gate and I will tell you anything you want. Or they close their mouths, defiant, eyes up. Millennium Break. You do not know the sharpness of the dagger on which you walk.

Of course this is unproportional, they think. What a waste. We’re in a good place. We know the identity of Hexagon. So they made some gains in the Bontive Valley. So they fucked us up on the Isle of the Broken Key. Small beer. We are the most powerful empire in the galaxy. The blood is in the grip. But the Stargrave, these pissant revolutionaries, are gonna get this whole thing blown up.

Or: they let something slip in their fear. The Stargrave has gone mad. She was on the edge and you fucked it. They say the BIS boss went to stay with her, try and calm her down. They say she makes her staff practice dying. They say she got wind that you were trying to come for her and fled, it only made this malady worse, this is the end of the world.

When the message comes to you—secondhand, of course, the Cause council has seen this first—it shows in grainy low-resolution the pinched face of an aide-de-camp as she turns the camera on. Then she tilts it nauseatingly, the view dips, and we see the only remaining right angle of a small ruined building. It seems to be surrounded by trees. The roof came away long ago; just two brick walls stand, forming the corner in which the Stargrave stands.

She is a blonde woman in her late fifties, maybe her mid sixties. She wears full military regalia. On her right arm, from her hand up to her shoulder, is clamped an unwieldy metal device, somewhere between a leg brace and a trigger mechanism. A leather strap, almost like the bit of a horse’s bridle, with eight buttons on it, crosses the palm of her right hand which faces towards the camera. Beneath the device you can almost see that her right sleeve has been rolled up to the shoulder, or cut neatly, and two IV needles run from its metal armature: one into her upper arm, and one just above her wrist. Her face is very pale; her lips white, pressed tightly together; dull light from the armed sun. She opens her mouth: silent for a second, lips parted. Then the man standing to her right—another aide-de-camp, carrying an assault rifle—speaks.

“Terrorists of Millennium Break. As a result of recent assaults on sovereign holdings in the Bontive Valley and the central transit network of this planet, as well as targeted assaults on her office, the Stargrave has been left with no choice but to arm the stellar combustors entrusted to her in holy power for the preservation of the Divine Principality.”

He takes a shaky breath.

“She has instructed me, in her wisdom, to communicate to you that any attempt to approach the Brecheliant Forest or the stellar combustor units, covertly or otherwise, as well as any attempt on Stargrave Elcessor’s life or liberty, will be met with—will be met with an immediate detonation. Resulting in the destruction of the planet Palisade, the sector designated the Twilight Mirage, and the twenty-three systems within the nearest achievable firebreak.”

“I have also been instructed to inform you that any attempt to seek a loophole, magical or mundane, or otherwise circumvent the terms of this message, will also result in an immediate detonation. The stellar combustors will remain armed until August Righteousness of Jade Kill; Véronique and the Divine Fealty of Rose River; Captain Skelton Knaggs of Carmine Bight; Saint Decario Dicario of Violet Cove; Jesset City of Gray Pond; and Gucci Garantine of Blue Channel turn themselves in to the Bilateral Intercession at the nearest checkpoint. This message will be rebroadcast throughout the Palisade System on the hour and at the half-hour.”

There is a long moment of silence. Then the Stargrave nods imperceptibly; then the aide behind the camera turns it off.

[heliological]

I wanted to listen to these together

audio from Palisade 01, 18, and 25, transcript under the cut

Austin [as Baldwin Home]: We have held our breath, we have closed our eyes, we have tied ourselves down with rope and wire. We have flown in retrograde, we have swum against the tide, we've tried every last trick to stop the clock's stride. But nothing is stationary. No, nothing is stationary. I said, nothing is stationary. They're moving on us now.

Austin [as Baldwin Home]: It’s your boy, Baldwin Home, a.k.a. Black Screen, Concrete Front, you already know what it is. Hitting you with another missive from the front lines, giving you an update on their missiles and known crimes, so you can move under their noses and know where they sharpen their knives, so you can recognize it by sound and get your own honed too, 'cause they need to be. What did I say? Play it back! Play it back! They’re— they’re— they’re moving on us now.

Austin: And they might do it quietly. But the people on Tartarus 5 celebrate. On Lonn and Helaine Delta and Thulsa and Xenacip, they celebrate. On Bhopal Kha and Maine and Bishamonten, on Carjal and Isfahan and all the rest. On research stations and refineries and on standard spread worlds: not everyone, not every one, but some people touch hands and light candles and some launch fireworks and hide before anyone asks any questions.

And some people make plans. On Altar and Brighton and Crown and Gift-3, they make plans. On Moonlock and Seneschal and Skein, on Thyrsis, and on Volition, and on the Brink, and all throughout the Twilight Mirage, they make plans. And in Sinder Karst, and in Joyous Guard, in Carhaix, on the Isle of the Broken Key, in City City, on New Oath, in the Crown of Glass, in Baseline: all across Palisade, the plans are already in motion.

Jade Kill: in motion. Violet Cove and Rose River, Carmine Bight and Gray Pond: in motion. The Blue Channel: they’re moving on them now, because against all odds tomorrow is coming and it brings more work. And for the first time in weeks, the sun will feel good on their skin as they do it.

[stylecouncil]

Pete Doherty, July 18, 2008 in Carhaix-Plouguer, western France 📸: Fred Tanneau

[postcard-from-the-past]

Folklore garments from Carhaix, Brittany region of France

French vintage postcard, mailed in 1955

[endlich-allein]

Rammstein, Festival des Vieilles Charrues, Carhaix, France, 18-07-2013 © Mathieu Ezan

[queer-ragnelle]

If you did not do it already, can I ask for Lot in the Vulgate passages ask?

The Story of Merlin: 37. The Tournament at Carhaix; the False Guenevere.

Send me a character and I'll reply with a Vulgate passage!

[pwopaganda]

The Solo

Citzen Erased - Muse (Live at Les Vieilles Charrues Festival, Carhaix-Plouguer, France - 16th July 2015)

[sealrock]

I meant to post this a few weeks ago whoops

a companion piece to my foulques and paris misadventures post, here's foulques' family and brief backstories for all (set before 1.0):

bohort 'bors' carhaix: an elezen of seventy winters, bors is the father of tristeux and grandfather to the carhaix brood. a miner for most of his life, bors lost his wife in a freak chocobo carriage accident when tristeux was nine years of age, something his youngest son blames him for to this day. their relationship is distant at best, and estranged at worst, but the wizened elder doesn't hold it against his son. he feels guilty for his son's pain and does his best to stay out of his way whenever possible. bors lives with tristeux and his family after he grew too old to take care of his tiny homestead. he enjoys spending time with his grandchildren, especially the youngest as he always has stories to tell.

tristeux carhaix: having just seen his fifty-second nameday, tristeux works tirelessly mining in the west shroud's ore-rich caverns and teaches his young sons the family tradition that spans back generations. the youngest of nine children, tristeux lost his elder brothers in various mining accidents, and the death of his mother is a sore spot for him. for years, he blamed his father despite him having no hand in the tragedy. resentful and unable to move on, tristeux focuses his energy in keeping his family fed and sheltered, but he's frequently spotted in the hamlet tavern after a hard day's work in the mines.

isaut (née lejelle) carhaix: tristeux's wife of twenty-odd summers, this fourty-six year old elezen is the matriarch and owner of the hamlet's only bed-and-breakfast, having inherited the business from her late grandmother. a no-nonsense woman, isaut strives to be a good wife and mother while also acting as a buffer between her husband and father-in-law. she doles out chores equally amongst her children, but some might say she spoils her youngest as she tends to call him her 'surprise baby' and lets him stay close by her. she views paris as one of her own, and she became a mother figure for the young hyur.

gavain carhaix: the eldest child of the brood, gavain is a reserved young man of twenty-four summers. having worked in the mines since the age of five, his father holds gavain in high esteem as the firstborn son. but when gavain announced his plans to join the gridanian lancer's guild and become a soldier, tristeux was taken aback, but nonetheless filled with pride. wanting to give back to his community beyond chipping away for gold and silver, gavain wanted to make a difference in showing others the good qualities of duskwights. he left home at seventeen, and through blood, sweat, and tears, gavain achieved the position of a serpent officer of the twin adders. he writes back to his family often and tends to drop by every now and then if duty allows it.

linette carhaix: at twenty-three, linette is the second child and only daughter. an avid reader and songstress, linette is a staple at the tavern as she sings old hymns and songs in her people's native tongue of high gelmorran, thus keeping the dying language alive a little bit longer. she often helps her mother with housework and upkeep of the boarding house, but she dreams of leaving the boundary of the west shroud like her elder brother and finding a partner to start a family of her own. for now, she keeps her younger brothers in line with the authority only an older sister can have, but she adores them both regardless. she had a slight crush on hector, though it seemed he was oblivious to this.

keux carhaix: the second son and third child, keux is a rebellious and mulish youth of seventeen summers. while he has experience in the mines, keux took on most of the responsibility and teachings of his father after gavain left, but keux would rather be tipping cows, playing footie, or betting his gil on a game of fivestones with his father's friends. while gavain attempts to set a good example for his brothers, keux follows the beat of his own drum at his parents' chagrin. keux takes advantage of his older age and tends to taunt his youngest sibling, and he sometimes shirks off his household chores to his brother to play hooky.

foulques galath carhaix: the fourth child and baby of the brood, galath is a boy of twelve summers and a bundle of mischievous energy. doted on by his mother, galath spends the less amount of time in the mines and instead follows his mother and sister around the hamlet, curious and bright. a little fearful of his father, galath loves spending time with his grandfather. he idolizes his eldest brother and tries to impress gavain with his fighting skills whenever he comes home. he's often teased by keux for being the youngest. the only other child in the hamlet is paris, and the two have been attached to the hip since they were very young.

[ranticore]

TVM spoilers

I thought a lot about the funniest way to foreshadow the avatars and decided that jean mentioning them in his very first chapter, it going unacknowledged, and then him not thinking about it again because he's got better things to think about would be best

important to note that the old art doesn't show the carhaix avatar's antlers.