#it's june fucking rebellion

[charlesemersonwinchesteriii]

The Les Mis movie was indeed released at Christmas in some countries! I'm in Australia, and there's always a big film released on Boxing Day.

Aw thanks so much for the confirmation! That's so wild..... 10 whole years ago...... and WHAT a choice for a Christmas day movie. Story full of every facet of utter misery of the human condition, nearly all the main characters dead by the end, and most of it takes place in June. Incredible. Then again, I asked for the dvd for my birthday, so who am I to judge.

HEY WAIT. WAS THAT. WAS THAT WHY THEY HAD THE WEIRD STUPID DRUNK SANTA GAG IN THE MASTER OF THE HOUSE SCENE. TELL ME THAT'S NOT WHY. NO........ NOOOOOO.......................

Anyways, hey, Happy Boxing Day!! \^w^/

[enjolraspermettendo]

Honestly, the barricade students were so real for doing the rebellion in fucking June, I have exams at the end of the month and I too would rather go shoot some National Guard and die on a cluster of furniture than study another chapter

[gayelderstourney]

OLD MAN YAOI BRACKET ROUND 1

Propaganda:

Jean Valjean/Javert:

One of the OG enemies to lovers. In the novel and musical, Valjean and Javert have complex, intertwined, and mirrored narratives which make them a fascinating ship to analyze. Also, there is a lot of hot fanfiction about them.

javert chases valjean around for at least 20 years because he broke parole and that's a big plot point. (jvj went to jail for bread theft if it matters.) considering how long that is and how much javert feels the need to do said chasing around that's kinda gay. also at one point javert is employed by valjean (except he doesn't know it's him and knows him as m. madeleine) and then asks madeleine to fire him. because he thought he was valjean and wanted to send him to jail even though he IS valjean. but some other guy got framed instead so it checks out and then WAY later on the barricades javert gets captured by a bunch of college students and valjean sets him free. this causes javert to have an existential crisis because 'OH NO HE'S A CRIMINAL BUT HE'S NICE TO ME' and then he kills himself. (also they have a very awkward carriage ride together. along with the unconscious body of valjean's future son-in-law. after valjean was in the parisian sewers and therefore covered in sewer water.)

what if i was an escaped convict and also the extremely benevolent mayor of a small jet producing town who broke into people's houses to give them money. and you were a furry cop trying to arrest me anyway. and then i save you from execution in the June rebellion and you realise that the police are not a symbol of justice but authority and being a criminal in the eyes of the law is completely separate from being a bad person. and this fucked you up so bad you killed yourself.

fuck those twinks in les mis these are the real finest gay love story victor hugo ever invented. javert literally followed valjean across france for decades because of his psychosexual obsession with recapturing him. valjean had the chance to kill him and spared his life, thus jump-starting javert's entire emotional arc. they're deranged and obsessive and they should kiss on the mouth

javert threw himself off a bridge bcs he was so mad the guy he was obsessively chasing was actually a good person depsite being a criminal theres gay ass old man yuri here

When you build your entire life around the existence of a man you despise is that still gay or do we need to invent something that transcends homosexuality. Asking for a friend.

fellas is it gay to spend your entire life chasing another man to arrest him even though all he did was steal a loaf of bread

Ravenpaw/Barley:

kitties who were outcast from previous groups they were a part of and find and live with each other. they are canonical mates even though theyre both dudes. they grow old together, but ravenpaw gets cancer and dies before barley (he lives to be considered old in warrior cats years). however ravenpaw wanted to be in the same kitty afterlife that barley will go to, so they can be together in kitty afterlife. barley is still alive though as far as we know and might be the oldest living cat in the series now. also i just think its funny to call little kitty cats "old man yaoi"

[birgittesilverbae]

Prompt: just a highly tattooed Beatrice. Anything. Maybe she’s in a band, maybe it goes to her teenage rebellion, maybe it’s your dads au and Bea always wears sleeves and one day Ava finally sees her ink… idk. Anything with tattooed Bea.

thanks for the prompt!

//

Beatrice hasn't worn short sleeves in the time Ava has been back. 

True, it's closing in on winter, but Malaga in November is barely any cooler than Brienz had been in June, and back then Beatrice had taken every possible opportunity to go sun's out, guns out.

Ava watches, curious, for some sort of sign, some clue to what Beatrice is keeping under wraps. She's been back for a week, almost, and they've kissed in quiet corners and in the back of the chapel, and once, in a fit of daring, in the confessional, Ava in Beatrice's lap admitting to myriad sins ("the Bloody Marys sold well, I just hated making them" and "I bought us new towels because I used ours to try and smother a stovetop fire" and "I spent half our time in Switzerland trying not to touch myself to the thought of you"). 

But they haven't gone any further than furtive makeouts and some over-the-clothes heavy petting – which, she has to remind herself, would be a mind-blowing development for June Ava. And Beatrice hasn't even rolled up her sleeves, which… The thought of Beatrice's forearms had constituted, like, a solid 64% of Ava's will to live while on the other side, but it's fine. She's fine. She can be very cool, very normal and definitely would absolutely not suffer if she never got to see Beatrice's forearms again.

She'd be totally fine. 

It's on day seven post-return that Beatrice slips up. She's been waist-deep in a van's engine compartment in between shouting matches with Mary across the garage, and stray curls of hair are slicked to her forehead with sweat. She rubs at her face and then frowns, unbuttons the placket at her wrist and starts to roll up her right sleeve. Ava feels like a Victorian gentleman about to pass out over the mere sight of a sliver of skin. She doesn't mean to, but she takes a step forward over the threshold of the garage, drawn towards the revelation of Beatrice's bare skin like a moth towards a flame.

There's a faint blue glow that grows brighter as Ava approaches, and Beatrice's head snaps up. She fumbles with her sleeve for a moment, an adorable crease between her eyebrows, but the cuff is caught on the knob of her elbow. She settles for linking her hands behind her back instead.

"Ava!" She chirps far too brightly for someone Ava had heard calling Mary a 'piece of fucking work' not two minutes past.

Ava takes another step closer. "Beatrice," she replies, soft. She'd raise a hand, but this already feels far too much like approaching a wild animal. 

Apt enough, though, as Beatrice's eyes very noticeably flick towards the exit. "Show me," she says, just as gently.

Beatrice's shoulders droop. "You would have found out sooner or later," she concedes. "It was only a delay of the inevitable in the hopes I would be better prepared to discuss it by the time the conversation arose."

She swings her arms forward, left hand finding the pocket of her coveralls, right coming out in front of her until her forearm is on display for Ava. 

It's a starburst shining divinium blue, a double handful of lines broken by tick marks emanating from a central black point. Ava can't help herself, doesn't want to stop herself from reaching out and dragging a fingertip down one of the lines. Beatrice's skin is warm beneath Ava's touch and the divinium sparks bright in response to the Halo's nearness.

"What is it?"

Beatrice clears her throat. "Pulsars are spinning neutron stars that blink on and off like lighthouses. When the Pioneer 10 and 11 spacecraft were launched, they were sent bearing a plaque with this map on it – a map of the position of known pulsars relative to our sun. A map of lighthouses, guiding the observer here." She taps the central dot. "That's here, that's home, that's us," she says, in that slightly removed tone Ava associates with the oh-so-common occurrence of a 'Quotes with Beatrice' event. "On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives." Beatrice inhales shakily. "It was stupid, really, but I thought maybe it would help guide you back to us. Back to me. Back home."   

[glasskey]

I’m Gonna Cut Your F#cking Heart Out - The June Osborne Hit List Pt 1.

You guessed it, time for our girl to finally get her own playlist. She’s been busy to say the least, so there’s certainly surplus to requirement here. Let’s start with some of her most memorable hits from The Handmaid’s Tale season 1.

Nolite te Bastardes Carborundorum (Don’t let the bastards grind you down)

The infamous words of defiance and hope scrawled on the inside of June’s wardrobe from the previous Handmaid, who tragically, ultimately, let the bastards (Fred) grind her down. It was fitting that at the beginning of season 1, June had absolutely no idea what these words meant, but by the end of S2 she’d plastered them across the wall of her prison in foot high letters. Suitably she found this secret call to freedom destroyed upon her unceremonious return at the beginning of S2. We watched as Aunt Lydia and Serena proceeded to join forces to crush her spirit, leaving June catatonic and bleeding in the garden bed. It seemed poetic that June had to ask Fred their meaning, for their very essence incited rebellion and he was after all, her jailer. His response that it was a joke, indicated that the very concept of kicking against the system was laughable. It was a message contained in one of Fred’s boyhood school books, signifying a long since dead rebellious youth. Here in Gilead these words belong to June and she treats them like a prayer for strength against the resident “bastard” Fred, and his unending onslaught of rape and obsessive creepiness. The moment Fred is confronted by the words on June’s bedroom wall as he is held at gun point by Nick, is juxtaposed with his demise in that dark forest at the hands of Nick and June. The phrase signed off across his hung lifeless body marking June and Fred’s separation and the end of a sinister chapter. In her testimony June had asked for justice for the nameless, voiceless many and here it was at last, for the previous anonymous Handmaid who had hung herself in despair in the Waterford's attic.

Standing there in her room staring at those words, Fred of all people should have understood their subtext, but consumed with obsession and arrogance, he chose to ignore them. How was he to know they weren’t just a good old fashioned fuck you from Osborne, but also a prophetic warning.

What else is there to live for?

As much as I hated Fred, he did get some of the best lines and this one scene has three of his greats. This quote from Fred and the philosophical debate he has with June is one of my favorite Osborne moments. It encapsulates the difference in nature between their respective two worlds. Fred’s musings about life pre Gilead come loaded with allusions to men and women’s displacement from their traditional roles. Fred, and later Lawrence, argue that as these lines blurred and women attempted to exceed their “biological destinies”, men felt they lost their purpose and society crumbled. Fred believes that the sole purpose of humanity is to breed and perpetuate the human race, anything else such as love, is nothing more than sentimental garbage invented to facilitate this process. “Now you’re free to fulfil your biological destinies….what else is there to live for?” he asks “Love” June replies almost astonished at his ignorance. To her the answer is so self-evident and obvious; because unlike Fred she’s actually experienced it, and isn’t the emotional equivalent of a cavernous black hole. He scoffs dismissing it as lust, and she unfortunately overestimates the length of the leash Fred has her on. She drops the careless quip; “Maybe for you, but not for me”, questioning both his emotional depth and the authenticity of his feelings for Serena. He is less than amused. He proceeds to give her a not so subtle warning by telling her exactly what they did to Emily. It’s clear that in this world women’s needs or pleasure are not only irrelevant, but a hindrance to the cause.

Fred then drops what is possibly my favorite line for this entire series; “Every love story is a tragedy if you wait long enough”, it speaks volumes about the deterioration of his and Serena’s relationship. Once loving and affectionate it has become bitter and resentful within the bounds of Gilead, for in Gilead, anything beautiful decays. These words are both heartbreaking and loaded with foreboding, and it’s poetic that upon leaving his study she runs straight into Nick. The similarities and differences between Fred and Serena’s and Nick and June’s relationship are played out time after time throughout the seasons. This moment in particular leaves you wondering, will the other shoe indeed drop? Or are Fred and Serena actually the antithesis of what Nick and June will eventually become? Fred’s a cynic, he’s a monster but he can also recognize that Gilead comes at a personal cost to June and here we see the closest thing to an apology or at the very least an acknowledgment from Fred: “Better never means better for everyone. It always means worse for some.” It is notable that June, quotes this back to Nick in season 2, reluctant to abandon both he and Hannah in a place where love is not a purpose but merely a device.

What are you gonna trade us for? Fucking chocolate?

Here June gets her first lesson in just how much of a commodity women have become, on a global scale, even to other women. Alma lets her know from the very beginning the seedy details of the deals that are actually being made, and it sure as fuck isn’t for oranges. June unfortunately thinks that the Ambassador has some sort of interest in June’s imprisonment and if she only knew the appalling conditions June was being kept in she would undoubtedly do something about it. She’s wrong. When they first met she dutifully kept her trap shut, but then Serena had to go and parade all those children around in front of her. The spoils of Gilead and the consequence of the Handmaids enslavement. When the Ambassador turns up toting a tin of choccy to thank June for her candor about life in Gilead she lets her know exactly what being a Handmaid is all about, complete with the eye gouging and cattle prods. Contrary to belief she hasn’t sacrificed herself to the glory of Gilead; she was kidnapped, enslaved and her own child stolen. The Ambassador is of course horrified but willing to do exactly jack shit about it lest it endanger her trade deal for a shipment of Handmaids.

June’s suitably stunned and angry; she’s demanding some answers. Turns out the Ambassadors country desperately needs repopulating; although I was challenged to see what shipping over some fresh wombs would do without the whole Gilead old timey scrub down to go along with it, as this actually seemed to be the secret sauce. June accuses the Ambassador of trading the Handmaids for chocolate, it’s a stab at her moral fiber; chocolate serves no purpose but pleasure, it’s a trivial luxury, and as such she must view these women as mere chattels to trade them for it. If these people want to start trading red tags, June will make sure they see exactly what it costs them personally, and it’s a lot more than oranges and chocolate.

I’m sorry Aunt Lydia

Here we see the birth of Mayday or rather June’s true baptism as its unofficial leader. When faced with the prospect of stoning Janine to death, June chose instead to give Aunt Lydia the equivalent of the middle finger in front of her peers, complete with a smug “I’m sorry Aunt Lydia.” Much to Aunt Lydia’s horror her buddies all followed suit…..it was enough to make a cuddly old fascists blood boil. As the Handmaids walked in lockstep back to their respective homes, there was an undeniable new confident swagger to them. Nevermind, Gilead will shortly torture and terrify that out of them, but the damage is done, the rebellious rot has now set in for good.

Janine was the best behaved one out of the bunch and even she ended up a stone’s throw away from a salvaging; it could have been any one of them and they all knew it. In your run of the mill dictatorship, unquestioning loyalty is bred through fear and the reward of remaining alive. However, Gilead seemed to have made the fatal mistake of punishing it's innocent, leaving the Handmaids to reach the logical conclusion that they were fucked either way. Regimes such as these are ripe for rebellion. Gilead had unintentionally turned their handmaids attire from a ritualistic binding into a rebels uniform in one fell swoop, and unfortunately no amount of stylistic alterations were going to change it back now. This was the moment that the Handmaids realized that they had nothing to lose, and there’s nothing more dangerous than solidarity amongst those who are willing to sacrifice themselves for a cause.

While we all wait faithfully for S6, I'll be back with more playlists. See you then.

[lostdrarryfics]

lostdrarryfics monthly roundup! June 2024

Below you will find the requests we could not locate in the month of June. Please let us know if you recognize any!

You can also browse our lengthy lost fic masterlist, where we have compiled every request we have been unable to find over the past few years. We're always hoping someone will recognize a fic so we can let the asker know what it was!

1. I read a fic 10-15 years ago about 8th year drarry and their bedroom doors were linked with the person who matched them sexually (obvs drarry matched) it wasn’t on ao3 it was on some old fic website that was a dark green colour. It was deffo an explicit fic.

2. looking for a drarry fic that is also multiple pairings. i read it on ao3, i think 3+ years ago and have been trying to find it since. it's at hogwarts after i think fifth year? harry finds out that students have orgies in the room of requirements, i think its called the five o club or something similar-club, he joins one time and there he fucks draco, the twins, i think also cedric and cho and some others

3. I read it on ao3 and it was fairly long if that helps. It's a fic set after the end of the war, where Draco has gone missing out of the country, Harry finds him living with a group of muggle ocs somewhere, in some sort of shelter, with no memories of his past, not even recalling his name. For most of the fic he's even called by a different name, though I cant remember which

4. I think this fic was fairly known i guess. It was a multi chapter fic. It was set in Hogwarts ( I am not sure if this was the 8th year or not but they were surely not kids). Ron once said that in wizarding world people don't care about gender or sexuality. And that all wizards have a little bit of gayness or poof in them. ( I don't remember the exact wording). Ron also said so we're that draco is pretty and they on care if the person is pretty or not (like not their gender). Hermione and draco have become friends and they were in library talking when Ron came and saw them and he was angry (not too much). Seeing this draco got up and gave Hermione a kiss on the cheek ( he did this with his friends as well, first time he did this to hermione it was an accident). But Ron stopped him by grabbing him from behind and draco just seductively looked over him from his lashes and said Ron. He was then quickly released and gave Hermione one more kiss before going. Ron was then sitting on the table. When Hermione asked him if he was hard () and then started to comfort him like it's fine etc and Ron is just embarrassed and draco is listening to all of this hiding behind a bookshelf. After hearing this he left the library smiling a little. Harry in this fic i am not sure if he thought being gay was bad or not but I remember somewhere that they(trio) were talking about sexuality and muggle saw it as bad and something like this

5. fic where draco referred to the death eaters as "his fathers strange guests" and refused to acknowledge voldy. He mentioned them as having questionable fashion tastes and strange tattoos lol. And everytime harry tried to talk to him about it he would deflect.

FOUND! 6. it was a near direct au of captive prince or perhaps just inspired by so the setting is like foreign fantasy land (do not believe there was magic). it was pretty long, harry was the captured one (for leading a rebellion or such like) and i feel he was often described kinda brutish and draco was described very fair skinned (oppressor cough cough) and etheral perhaps. Definitely was mature or explicit in rating with some detailed sex.

[grand-theft-carbohydrates]

Chu Han Contention / Qin Dynasty Timeline 

259 -- QSH Born 

256-- Liu Bang Born

251-- Zhang Liang born // (made up) Han Xin born 

246 -- QSH crowned King of Qin (13)

232-- Xiang Yu born 

230-- QSH starts war of conquest (29)

221-- Qin dynasty starts. QSH (38) 

220 -- Liu Bang builds the Emperor's tomb (36)

210-- QSH dies (age 49)

210--Liu Bang Rebellion (age 46) // Xiang Yu (22 years) // Zhang Liang (41) // Han Xin (41)

209 -- Chen Sheng and Wu Guang starts anti-Qin Dazexiang Uprising.

209 -- Han Xin joins Xiang Liang's rebel army

207 -- Qin Er Shi dies. Qin Dynasty Ends

206 --CH contention starts: liu bang (50) // xiang yu (26) // zhang liang (45)

202-- CH Contention ends 202 -- Han Dynasty Starts 28 February // Liu Bang (age 54) 

202 -- xiang yu dies (29-30 years)

196-- han xin dies (age unknown) 

195 --liu bang dies 1 June  (aged 61)

189-- zhang liang dies (62)  Notes: Wow, putting this timeline together has made me realise just how condensed this time period is.

trivia:

Qin Shi Huang was only 3 years older than Liu Bang.

The Qin Dynasty only lasted 15 years

At the time of the Chu-Han Contention Liu Bang was 50, Xiang Yu was 26 YEARS OLD. I had no idea he was that fucking young. the God of War, Breaker of Qin, Hero of the Age, Hegemon King of Chu was a fricking Coughing Baby Hydrogen Bomb.

In contrast, Zhang Liang was commonly portrayed as the OG Twink Strategist, but he was like 45 years old when he joins Team Han. sure that's not old and it does not negate his twink status by any means, but it's NOTHING compared to the Coughing Baby Hegemon King. I had to recheck wikipedia 5 times i was CONVINCED i was fudging the numbers somehow.

the hegemon king should have been at the club oh my god. im sorry i can't get over the fact he was THREE YEARS OLDER THAN ME when he decided to Leroy Jenkins the entirety of the Qin Army for a 10 v 1, inspire at least 3 famous proverbs and also a very tragic opera*. i get anxious writing emails.

oh btw Xiang Yu was the guy who was Farewelling his Concubine She's my fucking consort you jackass translator! before he died by suicide and offered his head to his childhood bestie so he could claim the reward. God everything he does reads like Badassary Word Salad

Han Xin's birth was never recorded, and wikipedia doesn't give me a age at time of death. Based on his childhood accounts, he appears to be a teenager before QSH's Unification started so I decided to make him the same age as Zhang Liang, 1) because it's easy to remember 2) they make great foils 3) they start a book club during house arrest and idk i thought it would be good for bonding reasons.

[munson-blurbs]

Hello again! So, I'm not sure if you're ok with this type of request but I didn't find anything that says otherwise. As a "sober" SH myself, I'd like to see Eddie x Femreader that has a lot of self-harm scars. Like, her entire arms are covered with it and other people stare, points at her, and so on.

I just want you to know that I'm so glad you're no longer hurting yourself. You should be proud of yourself for overcoming so much, and I'm so glad you're here.

I hope this fic is cathartic for you. I know I wish I had an Eddie Munson by my side when I was struggling <3

Warnings: mentions of self-harm (please do not read if this is triggering for you), scars, bullying, language

WC: 882

--

It's sweltering today in Hawkins, 95 degrees and humid. Unreasonably warm for June, in your opinion. You crank the air conditioning in your car on your drive to school, but Hawkins High is stuffy and stifling.

It also doesn't help that you're wearing a denim jacket, not as some kind of fashion rebellion, but to hide the scars that line your arms. You'd started back in middle school after enduring day after day of bullying, desperate for an escape. Now, years later with countless therapy sessions under your belt, you've acquire safer coping mechanisms. Unfortunately, journaling or curling up with a book and a cup of tea didn't make the scars disappear.

They'd faded slightly, but were still too pink and prominent for your comfort, so you chose to keep them covered when you were in public. But now, as sweat dripped down your neck and crept down your back, you're seriously reconsidering your position.

Taking a deep breath, you carefully remove the jacket and tie it around your waist. Okay, this isn't too bad, you think, making your way through the cafeteria to the lunch line. You reach for a slice of pizza when you hear it:

"What the fuck is on your arms?"

Your head snaps up at Jason Carver's sneering voice. How ironic, considering he was one of the bullies who made you feel like you'd had to cut in the first place. He's said it loud enough that some students are turning around to stare. And even though it's only a few people, it feels like the world has its eyes on you as you as you run right back out of the room, tears brimming.

One of those people is Eddie Munson, standing shell-shocked at the vending machine nearby.

You'd developed something between an acquaintanceship and a friendship over this past year after you'd joined Hellfire in an attempt to be more social. He was funny, and sweet, and was a really good Dungeon Master. The reason you weren't closer was because you were worried about letting people get close to you. The more knowledge they had about you, the more they could hurt you with.

You duck into the library and hide behind a bookshelf in the non-fiction section, curling up into yourself and crying as softly as you can. The last thing you need is the librarian marching over and shushing you in the middle of a panic attack.

Deep breaths, you remind yourself. Inhale for three, exhale for three. Your therapist would be so proud, you wryly think.

You wipe the tears from your cheeks as you practice your breathing exercises, so focused that you don't even notice the lanky metalhead sit down beside you.

"Hi," he whispers, and you gasp, bringing a hand to your chest. "Sorry," he apologizes with a small smile, "just wanted to check on you."

"I-I'm fine, Eddie," you've never told such a blatant lie; unsurprisingly, he doesn't buy it.

"You're crying in the cookbook section of the library. You are not fine." He scoots over so his shoulder grazes yours. "C'mon, talk to your favorite Dungeon Master."

You give him a tiny giggle. "Who says you're my favorite?" you quip, and he sticks out his tongue in response. "Okay, okay. I'm just...humiliated," you admit. "It's bad enough I have to walk around with these..." you hold out your arm shyly, "but then Jason fucking Carver teasing me about them, like he isn't part of the reason they exist."

Eddie takes your arm and frowns. "You hurt yourself because of Jason Carver?"

You shake your head. "No. Well, not just him. Any of the popular kids who made fun of me, who ostracized me when I was younger. I had, like, no friends. Not an exaggeration."

Eddie's quiet for a moment, and you think you've freaked him out until he says quietly, "If I knew you then, I would've been your friend." He reaches over and squeezes your hand. "I keep trying to be your friend now, inviting you to the arcade with the Hellfire guys, but you always turn me down. The rejection kills me, sweetheart." He throws his head back and lets his tongue flop out of his mouth, miming his death.

You shove him playfully. "I'm sorry. It's just scary to let people in, y'know?"

"I know. Trust me, I know," he mutters, then clears his throat. "But we're good guys, I promise. I only look mean and scary." He looks back down at your arms, not in disgust, just observing them. "Do you still...?"

"No, not anymore. Sometimes I want to, but I just do my breathing exercises or write in my journal."

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief. "Good. I hate to think about one of my little sheep doing that to herself." This time when he squeezes your hand, he doesn't let go. "You have my number on the Hellfire contact sheet, right?" You nod, and he continues. "So call me whenever you're feeling sad. You can tell me about it, or I can just distract you with my exciting rockstar escapades."

"Thanks, Eddie," you say, feeling a warmth in your heart that you haven't felt in awhile. "Um, when's the next Hellfire arcade night?"

Eddie beams at you. "Whenever you want, sweetheart."

--

[grox-empire]

Sorry for bugging with questions again, but I was curious about two unrelated things about your daybreak grox fellows. I may or may not have gotten a tad inspired, I will say.

What is the typical naming scheme of grox? When looking up the three names I recalled off the top of my head, 2/3 were greek, and I was unsure if that was coincidence or intentional. Is there a limit of length or syllables within a name? Are surnames present? Code names? Are fodder grox addressed by name or by some form of serial code?

Is there a specific style to the the cybernetics that grox have? Are there any design taboos regarding those? Are limbs able to be designed to be plug-n-play, or are all artificial parts permanent?

Thank you for your time, and I do apologize if the paragraph worth of questions was a bit much. I just find the world you’ve created to be facinating, and want to learn more.

The whole greek naming thing was wholly unintentional. I mostly just choose Grox names based on what I feel fits them, And a lot of those names just so happened to be greek because I liked them. In earlier drafts I did attempt to stick to the scheme but ran out of names INCREDIBLY quickly, and also realized it made no sense. But there is in-universe reasoning for their names! A grox typically chooses their name themself (like in Epsilon's case) or it is chosen by their Progenitor(s) (In Altair's case.) Celeste is a special case... She's trans! She had another name (Which I can't say because 1. I would feel bad deadnaming her even though she is a fictional character and 2. It's a spoiler) but chose "Celeste" herself. A name is seen as a form of privilege, That unfortunately, Lower-class grox don't often get. Fodder grox are addressed by serial numbers, Whereas higher ranking grox do have serial numbers, but they are typically "cleaner" and addressed by name instead. Epsilon's full serial number is ZYG-NTL-ZV005-1568945-EX-540169-062T1R1661, Usually shortened to EX-540169 when he is being addressed. Decoded, This would mean: ZYG-NTL = Zygote Natal, The company that owns the nursery he was created in. ZV005 = Facility 005 on Zuvius-9. 1568945 = 1,568,945th Batch produced by Facility 005 EX = Expendable 540169 = His personal serial number and what he's most commonly reffered to as by higher-ups 062T1R1661 = Date of creation. Which can be further decoded as such: 0.62/1 | R1661 A.E (Born 62% of the way into third 1 of rotation 1661, After Erebus. Would put his birthday sometime in late june to mid july.) (This would make him a cancer and that is hilarious to me for reasons that only my friend group knows but that's besides the point) Grox have a fucked up date system i'm probably going to go into on another post.

No, Not really! Most artificial parts are permanent, Attached directly to the nervous system. Grox are a near perfect balance between biological and inorganic, If you were to dissect one you would see a near perfect entanglement of organs and mechanical bits. Even a young, seemingly fully organic grox kitten born with all parts intact would be biomechanical- Nanobots build their internal cybernetics as they're developing. Most fodder soldiers and other low-ranking grox have fairly unspecialized cybernetics, While higher ones will often have ones made for practical (Like Altair's arm, Which (I don't convey this very well) has a hand that is able to be swapped out for a gun) or purely decorative purposes (like the gold-colored claws seen on Gula). The style of a grox's cybernetics depends largely on the manufacturer and planet they live on. Rather predictably, As a result, Grox culture is focused heavily on body modification. There are huge underground markets where even fodder soldiers are able to get some, But these are often seized. The sunrise rebellion has all of these restrictions lifted, They tend to paint or modify their cybernetics as a form of protest. One final tidbit: Both a mostly organic, intact grox with only internal cybernetics and chestplate and a grox that has had their body almost wholly replaced by cybernetics are seen as being of high status.

Not need to be sorry for these questions! I love answering them :)

[eienloveslesmis]

IN HONOUR OF BARRICADE DAY, A DISCOVERY

oh my god ok so ITS BARRICADE DAY (THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE REBELLION ON WHICH A LOT OF LES MIS IS BASED, LIKE VICKY HUGEHOE MADE UP A BUNCH OF CHARACTERS AND STUCK THEM IN THE STUDENT UPRISING OF 1832 WHICH HAPPENED ON THE FIFTH AND SIXTH OF JUNE) SO IM CONSUMING NOTHING BUT LES MIS CONTENT TODAY WHICH HAS BEEN THE TRADITION FOR LIKE TEN YEARS FOR ME AND LIKE 191 YEARS FOR EVERYONE ELSE AND SO I WAS READING THIS NEWSPAPER FROM 1832 TALKING ABOUT THE REBELLION i was reading a newspaper about the rebellion and the paper was from 1832 and jesus, mary, joseph, and the cow you are not going to believe what i found, I THINK I MIGHT HAVE DISCOVERED THE INSPIRATION FOR GRANTAIRE????? OK SO. i m m e d i a t e l y after the article about the rebellion was this little mini-story abt this motherfucker:

LIKE PARDON????? OK BC AND LIKE ITS UNLIKELY BUT NOT IMPOSSIBLE THAT THAT FUCKING GUY THAT MOTHERFUCKER MIGHT HAVE BEEN THE INSPIRATION FOR GRANTAIRE?? BC LIKE. BEING IN A DRUNKEN STUPOR, ASSUMED TO BE DEAD, ONLY AT THE VERY LAST POSSIBLE MOMENT WAKING UP A N D DECLARING THAT HE'D NEVER GET DRUNK AGAIN BC 1 HE WAS GNA DIE WITH ENJOLRAS AND 2 HIS DRUNKENNESS WAS A METAPHOR FOR WHY HE WASNT LIKE NOBLE AND SHIT AND HIS CYNICISM BUT ENJYBABY TURNED HIM INTO A BELIEVER??? normalize believing very very very unlikely things bc it's funny shhh

[nutzworth]

its 6/12! i HAVE to read homestuck! i didnt read ANY last month. oops

DAY 9: JUNE 12, 2024

STATS: read for 2 hours and 30 minutes pages read: 1903-2068. 165 pages. act 5!!!!!! page 2000! slur count: 13 + 0 = 13 silly count: 13 + 0 = 13 piss count: 2/3

THOUGHTS: ohhh my god. ok not much original thought here but by god did a lot happen

ok LOTS OF TROLLS. this time. but we will get into that later

johnkat is so funny. karkat just kind of sucks. i guess were getting into it now HES SO FUNNY! hes so mean. esp to his troll friends in act 5. he has no whimsy and no fun. he loves to lie. hes oppressed hes a MUTANT yet he wants to join the military. even though the military would KILL HIM for being who he is. ohhh my god. his clean ass room. his romcoms. he loves romcoms. he sucks at programming. he keysmashes in here WHATEVER. back to the kids

soooo much guardian lore... so much LORE. i love nanna and i love pa harley. and their upbringing THEYRE SO WEIRD.

(about pa harley) ADVENTURE!!!! oh my god. "She can handle it, he tells her. He believes in her." AHHHHHHHH!!!!!! HOPE PLAYER! i love the hope aspect im gonna go crazy in act 6 when jake is there. but right now? this is FOOD. im EATING IT UP!

michael guy bowman is so john egbert voice. its canon that dave strider is a whiteboy and that michael guy bowman is literally john egbert and thats IT.

dave is being so rude and mean to terezi. for the girl that said to john "WOW. MAKING FUN OF A BLIND GIRL? FUCKED UP!!!!!" she sure does turn a blind eye (LOOOL) to dave being like "yeah me and this guy? all up best friends. you know why? we can both see. and were going to this see party and theres so much shit and paintings and its great. to look at. and FUCK YOU. for being BLIND." and terezis cackling about her wonderful D4V3 1S TH1S YOU? drawings. theyre funny

[S] DESCEND!!!!!!!!! oh my god. what a flash. this would make me crazy if i was an upd8 reader. JACK NOIR IS INSANE. HE JUST KILLS EVERYONE! the music is sooo good too. it matches so well. its SCARY.

speaking of jack noirs destruction: ok here's more about wv. this is probably so surface level but it drives me crazy i need to restate it ok wv is a regular ass farmer. hes normal. the WAR comes. hes like GOD THIS SUCKS! he starts a revolution. he unites both sides. hes radical hes powerful and by god is he AWESOME. he faces jack noir. him and his big ass army. jack noir KILLS ALL OF THEM. ALL OF THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THEYRE ALL DEAD! except wv. which hussie puts it in the recap "Jack then killed the entire rebellion army, sparing only WV?. Perhaps to leave a survivor to tell the story, or perhaps out of respect for a fellow mutineer. Only he knows." WHAT????? WHAT!???? OKAY and so wv is surrounded by his brethren. his friends. his army. ALL DEAD. and at the same time prospit falls to skaia. and out from it is johns dream self. and a PLUSHIE. OF JACK NOIR.

this is insane. its like humiliating. its awful. its like jack is laughing at wv's face. oh my god. anyway wv rips it apart and hes real for that. I LOVE YOU WV!!!!!!!!!!!

not to mention PM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! let me just put some badass images in here. so you know

SHES SICK!!!!!!!!!!!!! shes pissed off shes SO pissed off. she kills hb and uses his walkie talkie to call over jack noir. shes standing on that hill with the blood of jack's coworker flowing in the adjacent creek holding both the crowns covered in blood. she gets the promised package and SHOVES it in johns arms and storms off. shes PISSED OFF!!!! RIGHTFULLY SO! OH MY GOD!

and then the PACKAGE.... obviously you KNOW im crazy about the jake english cameo. but also....

this made me crazy. i like almost cried. oh my god. shes JUST DEAD. ON THE FLOOR. JOHNS SITTING THERE READING THESE LETTERS AND JADE IS DEAD!!!! IN FRONT OF HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! sob. oh my god. and he sheds One tear. and then jack comes to kill him

i loooove how homestuck goes panel-heavy sometimes... along with the short "a [...] is [...]. [...], [...]." which makes no sense in writing. let me give you some examples

i love it. it makes the reading more poetic and slow. its like, make your own opinions on the subject matter. its matter-of-fact. its simple. its SAD. its like this event is so disconnected from everything were going in third person to describe it. its curt and its AWESOME. I LOVE IT!!!! i think if skaia had dialogue or narration or anything this is what it would sound like. it would give you pictures and a short description, and it would say "go fetch".

ok recap. not much but hussie says "Back in the meteor lab, John began the ectobiology session which appeared to have been prepared for him in advance by the guardians who had just been there." which i think is so cute. the guardians prepared it FOR him.... homestuck is truly a story about kids and the things that control/lead them. guardians/skaia/fate/each other/first guardians(bec, doc scratch). even the story itself. so awesome

THEN ACT 5!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the silly name for alternia translates to "turd odor fuckball" which is funny. and karkats silly name translates to "nookstain bulgereek" which makes sense

whats REALLY interesting to me is karkats parallels with dave. even in these first few pages karkat is SO SIMILAR to him. both slice their teasing names in half and say that they dont have time. theyre "Kind of a big deal, ok?". they have a need to seem "cool". karkat narration has the line "This was not the coolest thing you could have done just now." which threw me for a loop: i never thought of karkat needing to seem Cool. but he does he wants to. hes a leader. he pretends to be a leader. he doesnt want to show to sollux that he thinks highly of him cus he needs to seem COOL. i love karkat

alternia is a planet full of tragedy. they need to sleep in sopor slime to assuage the nightmares of "blood and carnage". theyre surrounded by so much evil and destruction that they need DRUGS EVERY NIGHT to be normal. auuugh.

honestly i pity gamzee waaaay more than i pity karkat. karkat has it good for all i care in the beginning. hes just not sharing his blood color. GAMZEE THOUGH? everyone thinks hes annoying. you can tell hussie writes him as if he's a joke; its clear hussie hates gamzees character and wants you to hate him too. but i cant. hes a hippie and an addict and a black boy. and i feel SO BAD that hes written like that. he could have been great if he wasnt in this situation :-( im sorry gamzee

rip sollux you would have loved reddit

karkat at the end of the karkat/sollux convo kills me. "hey i know we just bantered about how much we hate each other and stuff, but are we still friends?" hes so cute. are we still friends. yeah... yeah. and sollux is like "you say this EVERY TIME. are you joking" and karkats like "Yeah. Yeah im joking haha. Sure am" the poor guy. just wants friends THEYRE JUST KIDS!!!!!! SOB!!

i love terezi. shes so ANNOYING. and i love her for it. shes just fooling around all the time. she wants to piss people off. "Ohhhh karkat youre sooooo handsome and heroic!" hahahahahaha. she does NOT care. "But all of your scalemates are alive to you. ... At least you pretend to believe that to annoy people." SHES SO FUNNY! she gives NO fucks. i love how shes drawn too

then karkat comes in all like HEY TEREZI. IM THE LEADER!!!!!!!! FUCK YOU! what an asshole. but terezi dont care. you know what she does? "lol ok." and then "yeah the leader goes on this badass and seriously cool heroic adventure and hes awesome. and me (the second in command) gets to sit down and do nothing and be bored and its no fun" and karkats like "YEAHHH!!!! IM THE HERO! WOOOO!" and then it cuts to the actual game and terezis been fooling around with her gamey god powers. hahahahahahaha so awesome

okay thats it. i love aradia i saw like 2 of her. maaaybe ill read more this summer :-) bye bye thanks!

[dhr-ao3]

A New Plan

A New Plan https://ift.tt/6MONr9S by Cleftu She was so fucking stupid. What she was feeling wasn't a loss of motivation, or even passion. She just wanted to be free. The revelation brought tears to her eyes, and she felt she could sob in relief. Her fork clattered loudly on her plate as it slipped from her hands. Hermione had this overwhelming urge to do whatever the hell she wanted to do. Words: 1511, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and other obvious and not obvious characters that I don’t have time to list but will update later Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Additional Tags: after the war, Self Care, Rebellion, hermiones done af, fun school year, Taking Risks, Try New Things, Banter, other things I haven’t thought of via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/nr67FUO June 20, 2024 at 12:07AM

[hayffiebird]

Taste of Strawberries, chap. 44

Hayffie Post-Mockingjay Multi-chapter, Rated M

Four years have passed since the end of the war when Effie returns in to Haymitch’s life once again. An old friendship is renewed. Will it lead to something more?

Meanwhile Panem has entered a new era. The rebellion’s over, the borders are open but in the shadows, anger and mistrust are smoldering. Something that will affect Haymitch and Effie’s life in a way they never saw coming.

Chapter 44

Haymitch’s lullaby

Night again. Midnight.

Cleo, June and Annabel’s bearded dragon moved quietly in her tank. Her claws rattled against rock and root in her shadowy world, illuminated only by the pale shafts of moonlight.

Haymitch peered inside the living room, half-hidden by the doorway. Effie had yet to come back to her room. Not that it was any of his business. If she was restless tonight she had good reason.

But an hour passed, an hour-fifteen, and finally he followed her.

Not to try and make her reconsider. About Twelve and all. Her mind was made up. He’d certainly done everything in his power to cement her belief that the children were better off as far away from him as possible. Even if she was too polite to say so.

All he wanted was to check on her. Make sure she was OK.

As OK as could be expected.

And there she was. Curled up in the old armchair. Eyes closed, knees under her chin. Breathing softly.

Their trusty side-kick – the baby monitor - stood on the table, next to a half-finished glass of milk. Goat milk probably. She bought a bottle just the other day. Some local farmer, downtown.

Maybe she misses Twelve, he thought. Katniss and Peeta and … all the rest.

That or she just needed something sweet to help her sleep.

If so, it did the trick.

He watched her pale face, framed by soft strands of strawberry blonde hair. That special hue from the Trinket family tree that she passed on to her children. Their children.

In just a couple of hours, they’d all be gone. Effs, the kids. She already bought the tickets. One for the Capitol. One for Twelve.

He couldn’t even follow them part-way. Not when they were going in two completely different directions.

He’d hinted, several times, at the solution of him setting up camp in her house while she and the twins moved to the Victor’s Village. But every time he tried to open that door, Effie closed it again.

Didn’t take a genius to figure out why.

He would have joined them for the whole trip. Gladly. All the way to the Capitol and home again. It still wouldn’t feel like enough time.

But who wanted to lock themselves on a train for 24 hours with a dumbhead in withdrawal? Not Effie. Especially not when she already had two young children to take care of. The liquor was gone. No hair of the dog available. He’d be a wreck, not two districts later. He couldn’t do that to her. Wouldn’t expose her or the children to any of that bullshit.

Yeah, the booze really was gone. The hip flask. The bottles. He poured all of it down the drain. Something he’d done maybe never in his lifetime

While he waited for news on Effie.

A feverish act. A mad frenzy. Nothing but a desperate man’s desperate pact with … whoever might be listening. Bent over the sink – blood pounding in his ears, his pipes clenched to what felt like half – he just snapped one seal after another.

As if his tossing the lot would somehow make Effie return home unscathed.

Unscathed? Fuck. Effs hadn’t been without scars in decades and definitely not these past couple of years. Or days, for that matter.

With bated breath Haymitch stepped over the threshold. Occasional splatter of rain drip-dropped down the misty windows as he threaded soundlessly across the carpet.

He wasn’t always a bull in a china shop. Katniss would be amazed (or maybe not) if she knew how quiet he could be still. When he had a mind to. And was sober.

He plucked the baby monitor from the table. Turned it off and slipped it in his pocket. His empty pocket.

Effie only mumbled something in her sleep when he spread the blanket over her. Tucked her in. He touched her cheek with a feather-light hand.

“Sleep well, princess. See ya in the mornin’.”

The brisk breeze elbowed the house in the side. Over and over. Made it creak and groan on Haymitch’s way upstairs.

Just like my place, he thought. It too was a talker. Course, had this been his house and his hour he wouldn’t have noticed. He’d already be three sheets to the wind by now.

Or four or five.

He stopped by Effie’s bedroom. Polished the wood with his ear, listening for anything out of the ordinary. Hand against the handle, he hesitated. Then pushed inside. One inch at a time.

Just to check on them.

The kids usually slept through the night now. Thanks to the tireless hard work of one ms. Effie Trinket. And like a drop’s effort on his part.

So no wonder his heart jumped – like a cat off an electric fence – when Amy turned her head the moment he walked in.

Wide awake. Sitting upright in her side of the travel crib. Not an ounce of fatigue in her Seam gray eyes.

Mostly, when the girl woke up at odd hours – sleepy and overtired – she had no problem making herself heard.

But for whatever reason she only blinked her long lashes. A look in her eyes like “Do you have an appointment?”

Haymitch crouched before the crib.

“What’re you doin’ up, sweetheart?” He whispered the words because Ian was still sound asleep. Eyelashes dark against his chubby cheeks. The beloved binky propped in his mouth.

Haymitch caressed his daughter’s silky hair.

“This is bedtime”, he said. “Not playtime.”

Maybe it was the word. “Play”. That or simply the cadence of his soft dad voice. But Amy instantly put both hands up in front of her, palms facing him. Expectantly.

When he didn’t immediately respond with the double high five (or something equally enthralling) she let out a bright bird squeak, like he was a little slow and she had to spell it out.

Haymitch’s lips curved upwards. But it was a smile that couldn’t quite quench the sadness in his tired red eyes. He flopped down on the floor, cross-legged. Held her perfect little hands between his shaky, timeworn thumbs and forefingers.

“Tomorrow”, he said. “Now’s night-night. OK?”

Amy shook her head violently from side to side. A bull’s eye coincidence but enough for him to flash a hint of teeth.

“No. You gon’ need your energy in the morning. Come on. Lay down your head. And close your eyes. Just like it says in aunt Katniss’s song.”

Ever so gently he helped her down on her back, but Amy’s body had no sooner touched the mattress before she struggled back up again. Shot him a look that was so Effie-like he half-expected “Manners!” to be snapped his way.

He tried it a second time. Put her down. Scanned the room for the pacifier.

Big mistake.

Amy’s bottom lip jutted out. Eyebrows creased, her face turned a darker shade of pink as it crinkled up dangerously.

“No, no, no ...”, said Haymitch hastily. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry, girlie.”

Too late.

Fucking hell, he thought as he reached inside the crib. Lifted out his wailing child. When would he learn? Almost a year in and he still made these clueless first dad mistakes.

“There, there, I got ya”, he mumbled into her hot temple. “No need to work on my deafness. I got ya.” Her arms clutched his neck and he rocked her, speaking the same soft words as many a night before.

And, of course, her cries had not yet subsided before her brother stirred. The boy rubbed a fist into his eye, the pacifier slipped out onto the mattress and from him came a few pitiful whimpers.

Before long Haymitch had both arms full of his two cranky children.

Got no one to blame but himself. Why didn’t he just sit with her? Read a bedtime story or hummed some of the songs they liked. Girl would’ve passed out eventually, without him pushing and prodding her.

He gave them both a kiss.

“Whatcha say we go back to my room, hm? Don’t think you’ve ever been there, like once, this whole trip.”

Said and done.

“His” quarters weren’t nearly as neat as Effie’s, obviously. But he put in the effort to make the bed at least. The fact he’d hardly slept in it this whole time helped of course.

Guided by moonlight, he unloaded his precious cargo onto the embroidered bedspread.

And there they felt right at home. Because if there was one thing his little cubs had always enjoyed, it was beds. The bigger, the better. Here, in the Capitol, in Twelve. Everyone’s but their own really.

Their whining instantly stopped, like turning off a tap. Ian flopped forward against the pillow with an excited huff.

“Don’t fall off”, Haymitch warned, head inside one of the wardrobes. “Can’t return you to mama with any bumps. She’ll wring my neck.”

“Aa-mm-uh!” squeaked Amy eagerly, clutching her toes with both hands. “Mmm-amm-amm-amm!”

“Mama’s sleeping”, Haymitch said. Hangers creaked when he nudged the jackets and sweaters and raincoats aside, looking for his secret further in. “Long day. We just gotta look after ourselves for now, yeah?”

Getting a good grip he carried the box out. Just a regular-sized cardboard parcel. Big enough to carry … what? A dozen bottles of beer?

He lifted it onto the bed, before Amy and Ian’s mildly curious gazes.

“I know it should be tied up with strings and all that fancy-schmancy.” He climbed in with them. “But I can’t wrap for sh… A drunk orangutan would do a better job.”

Not like Eff, he thought. Seriously, what’d she do? Apply for a gift wrapping certificate alongside her escort courses?

The old man could’ve probably fixed it. When Haymitch called in the order. But it just didn’t occur to him at the time. To ask the favor.

Ian tugged at him. The usual cue when he wanted to be picked up. Haymitch settled him on his left knee. Amy, on the right.

“Think of this like it’s mama’s cooking”, he said and inched the box closer. “Just cause it doesn’t look right doesn’t mean you won’t like what’s inside.”

The seal was already broken. Earlier. Not with his knife. Effie would have had a fucking asthma-attack had he brought it here. Just a regular pair of scissors with ring handles made out of hickory wood.

He flipped open the flaps. The outer the inner. Reached through the bubble wrap.

It was heavier than he remembered. He needed both hands to get it out of the box. The twins watched with peaked interest as he placed the object, the present, before them.

“You were supposed to have it when you were born”, Haymitch said quietly. “And then again the other day. I messed up but … better late than never.”

Ian reached a hand out. Gingerly grazed his five tiny fingernails against the left one of the three.

Three goslings sitting on a patch of grass.

Amy followed her brother’s example. Touched the bird on the right. The soft down. The pearly eyes. The little beak. Babbled something, questioningly.

“Nah, it ain’t real goslings”, Haymitch said. “Don’t worry, I already made sure. It’s called a music box. I want you to have it. Take it with you when you …”

His voice faltered.

“Crazy day that was.” He kissed the top of her head. Kissed Ian’s too. “First time I ever met ya. Feels like a hundred years now. You were so squished. Both o’ ya. Got these … purplish lil’ monkey faces. Hollering at me like I’d broken your grandmother’s china.”

He smiled at the memory.

“And I knew I’d never seen anything more beautiful in all my life. And yeah, that’s including your poor mother. I was a goner. From the start. Never been more proud, more terrified, of anything. Ever. Lucky too. Cause out of all the people in this world, I get to be your dad.”

Eyes shiny, he swallowed hard against the painful lump in his throat. Caressed Amy’s cheek with the back of his fingers. Dropped a kiss to the dimples of Ian’s knuckles.

“But I can’t be a good dad to you now. Not the kind you need and deserve. Tomorrow when it’s time for bed I won’t be there. I don’t know when we’ll see each other again. Properly. But if you ever feel sad and anxious and can’t sleep cause I ain’t there, mama can play you this song and wherever I am or whatever I’m doing I’ll be listening with you. No matter what happens, we’ll always be a family. In here.”

He touched the spot right over their hearts.

“And whenever you look out on the night sky, remember that even though we’re far away from each other I’m looking at the same moon you are. The same stars. OK?”

He tilted the goslings over, carefully, having a look at the underside.

“So, watcha say?” he asked, trying to keep the pain out of his voice. “Wanna try and play some music? See what kinda song it’s got?”

There was something engraved in the metal. Haymitch squinted at it, ran a thumb over the old letters.

“’Someday’”, he read. “Never heard of it. Have you?” He looked at the twins. “Maybe mama knows … and there’s the key …”

He grabbed a good hold. Gave it half a dozen twists. Just like Paulus Bell had taught him.

The music box came to life immediately.

But what Haymitch first noticed wasn’t the tinkles, the chimes, the melody itself.

No. It was the goslings themselves.

They were glowing.

All three of them. Carried within some kind of light, burning right where their hearts would be. Warm and comforting.

A night lamp. Not painful to the eye but warm. Ember-soft. Like a campfire. But not the fire you lit with cold-stiff fingers in the arena. Fires that got you killed.

No. The kind you lit on your own hearth when it was time to eat, time to sleep. The shadows cast: not frightening. Not dangerous. Just … playful. Calming.

This, he’d already sensed of course. Back at the Forum, when Paulus Bell first demonstrated the music box to him. It had a light of some kind, sure.

But in the vivid and bright cascades of artificial bullshit that the Capitol spewed all over you – spotlights, billboards, fairy bulbs – this tiny little source was all but drowned out. Leaving only glimpses.

But here, in the quiet and the dark, it was different. Now they burned strong and steadily. Unswerving. Always had … course … It’s capacity to shine never changed. Never went anywhere. Even if he was too distracted to realize it.

And then the music. He strained his ears; once again, tried to place it. Where it came from. He’d always had a remarkable memory. That was his curse. One of them, anyway. And as for songs and melodies, he was a living breathing archive.

Sae said he reminded her of Katniss’s grandmother in that regard. She never forgot anything with a tune either. One hearing was all she needed.

The song was simple enough. He could easily find it on the piano – if he’d had a piano at his disposal. A lullaby, obviously. Soft and gentle, like the light it emitted. Kind, if that made sense? Tenderly merry. Like a kiss on the cheek. One of Effie’s kisses.

Someday. Someday, what?

The twins had fallen completely silent. Marble-eyed. Sitting very still, as always when they were really into something. Mesmerized, either by the light or the music or both.

His good, sweet children. How odd to think they weren’t always in his life.

So many more things he wanted to say to them. While there was still time. Not that they understood what he was telling them or even if they did, they wouldn’t hear a word he said, being so awestruck by their new present.

He ought to just let them enjoy the show. Have it lull them to slumber before he carried them back to Effie’s room.

But one thing he had to say. Couldn’t let them leave without it.

”I love you, little uns.” He kissed their soft, goose-downy hair. “I know I don’t say it a lot. Not like mama does. I never got to keep anything to call mine and I know it’s silly but … it’s like if I say it too often someone will pick up on it. Like a frequency on the radio. They’ll know and then … But I do. So much. You’re the best thing I ever did with my life.”

Heart aching, he rested his chin against the top of Ian’s head. Cupped his hand around Amy’s little foot.

“I’m really really gonna miss you.”

Author’s note: Now they’ve all gotten geese for a gift, did you notice? Haymitch has the origami goose that Effie made him, Haymitch gave her a porcelain goose on the December Fair before knocking her up and the twins now has their music box goslings.

“Someday” is a real song. There’s even an actual music box version of it on Spotify and YouTube played by Nibble Pig. And if you’ll wonder, just like I did: “Where the hell have I heard this melody before?” it’s because it’s a roll credits song from “The Hunchback of Notre Dame.” Go check it out! The Alan Menken version. It’s got the loveliest lyrics ever! Very “Deep in the Meadow” and “What I need is the dandelion in the spring” themed. ;)

Also, the sentence “You’re the best thing I ever did with my life”. I can't take credit for that cause it’s a variation of a line (said by another addict) in “Riding in cars with boys”. A movie (and book) I was obsessed with when I was 15. If you ever get the chance, watch it on dvd. That way you can also enjoy Drew Barrymore’s beautiful voice-over commentary!

[leareadsheresy]

False Gods

This post contains spoilers for False Gods by Graham McNeill, first published as a novel on (as nearly as I can tell) June 1st, 2006.

This is a weird book.

The progression of events is fine. If you wrote this book as a list of scenes, and a description of what happens in each scene, and each character's motivation at the start of each scene and each character's motivation at the end, it'd hold together well. But the specifics are bad. Any time any two characters have an argument, they have a dumb version of that argument, with dumb points made badly. Every character in this book, almost all the time, is a louder, dumber, more caricatured pantomime of who they were in Horus Rising. The exception is when someone -- usually Kyril Sindermann -- is delivering exposition, in which case the dialogue is merely workmanlike. I suspect this was worked out as a very solid outline and then filled in quickly and that Graham McNeill -- at this point in his career, remember this was decades ago and maybe he improves over the course of the series -- just doesn't have the chops to write smart people having smart conversations at this point. (I sure hope he improves; he's written a lot of these books.)

It is so consistent that I'm able to imagine a better version of this book just by looking at the dialog we see, picturing it as placeholder dialogue, and extrapolating a better version of each conversation based on the more subtle, more intelligent, more learned versions of these characters visible in the previous book.

I need to give at least one example.

Here's a five page excerpt from the ebook in which Erebus of the Word Bearers is attempting to manipulate Horus into attacking the fortress of the dude he set to rule Davin, this planet he conquered years or decades ago, who's now rebelled. Erebus stole a magic sword in the previous book and has given it to the rebel, and his plan is to have Horus lead the vanguard of the attack so the magic sword can injure him, at which point Erebus will step in and take Horus to a magic healing spot where the Chaos gods will offer him power in exchange for healing, stoke his ambition, show him misleading visions, and get him to rebel against the Emperor.

(You are going to have to pardon my highlights; I was taking notes as I read and I'm too lazy to remove them while taking the screenshots.)

Notice how Horus and his entourage are all stupid fucking meatheads and Erebus is the most obvious manipulator who ever lived? In the previous book, Horus and his entourage weren't stupid fucking meatheads, and they wouldn't have fallen for that -- but if Erebus had been in the previous book, he wouldn't have been that obvious. You can easily imagine a better version of this entire exchange, with more subtle points being made all around and more subtle manipulation happening, coming to the same outcome. You can extrapolate a better, smarter version of Erebus just by imagining a reversal of the character degradation from the previous book to this one. Every single argument in the book is like this, and this is a book about people having arguments.

Horus complains in this book about how he doesn't like being at the behest of bureaucrats and tax collectors and it comes off as petty, like his objection is he's too great to deal with that sort of trifle. Horus complained about the tax collectors in the previous book but it wasn't petty! Horus's whole point in the previous book was "The Emperor is locked in his basement and he's letting this new civilian government he's set up do whatever they want, and they're claiming his authority to enact taxation on conquered worlds but it's too soon, those conquered worlds haven't seen enough of the benefits of Imperial rule yet and if we start heavily taxing them now they're going to rebel and then we'll be stuck putting down rebellions until the end of time and it'll tear the Imperium apart, which I don't want to do! And my evidence for this is dad's smart enough to know it's too early to impose taxes; he's capable of predicting the same shit I'm predicting now, so it's gotta be the bureaucrats acting on their own. Why is my father letting the bureaucrats take his name in vain while destroying my work?" And given that Horus is a) explicitly described as a tactical and strategic supergenius and b) explicitly described as the Primarch closest to his dad, I… kinda buy that argument? Or at least I buy that Horus believes it wholeheartedly; I don't know, the Emperor is great at making bad decisions, maybe he did back the tax initiative, but Horus there is demonstrably smart and cautious and protective of his accomplishments and the Imperium's holdings and his father's honor and the pedestal he's put his father on. Also, interestingly, he accepts rebellion as inevitable and even sympathetic under certain circumstances. Meanwhile in the above excerpt Horus is acting like rebellion is an unthinkable affront to his honor, which is the most important thing in the universe.

(There's a more favorable reading of the excerpt where he just finds it unthinkable that a commander he appointed would rebel, but I'm not inclined toward favorable readings of the excerpted exchange.)

Those things I said in my discussion about Horus Rising Part 1: The Deceived and how noticing the title of the section might have made me like False Gods more? I take it back, there's nothing here that indicates Horus was already planning rebellion. Quite the reverse. We get his interior monologue and he spends a lot of time exclaiming how unthinkable rebellion is while talking himself into it.

That said! Once we get into the Chaos Vision Quest part of the book with Erebus pretending to be a dead guy from the first book and giving Horus a tour of the past and future -- and I appreciate the ambiguity as to whether it's actually the past and future or just warp reflections of it -- I kinda buy Horus's reasons for rebellion, once I picked up something the book doesn't draw attention to. The Imperial war apparatus places a great emphasis on leading from the front and how a leader earns the respect of their (well, let's face it, his; not a lot of women in military authority roles in these books yet) troops by leading from the front, because this is based on a wargame where your leader is a guy on a tactical rock with a lot of strong attacks and a buffing aura, and that's been the case for not just the entire two hundred years of the Great Crusade but however many centuries before that the Unification Wars took. Horus is super-primed to see the Emperor retiring to Terra as an insult and as a move that warrants he, Horus, ought to start disrespecting the Emperor.

There's also a kind of interesting bit where Horus worries that his appointment to Warmaster to finish the Great Crusade is just in time for the Great Crusade itself to turn into a gloryless mopup effort, robbing him of the fame he expected the title to earn him, especially interesting in the context of having just botched his attempt at a novel peace with the interex, where he really tried to get out there and be his own man and accomplish something the Emperor never did. It does come across as a prideful man realizing he may have been spurned, and that he may need to do something drastic to get the reputation he wants. I don't really buy the idea that Horus would be shocked and appalled to learn that he was grown in a lab, because, like… I assumed he knew that? But I do buy that he'd be primed to believe that the 40k future with a God-Emperor and only the nine loyalist Primarchs recognized as such by a pathetic population of wretched worshipers might be the Emperor's plan in the context of how Horus would be inclined to view someone who quits the field of battle. He also claims explicitly that each of the Primarchs embodies part of the Emperor's personality and he, Horus, embodies the Emperor's ambition specifically, which both fits with what we've seen of him and explains why he'd react so badly to feeling like his ambitions are about to be foiled.

Also, the previous book made an effort to establish that once you invite Chaos into your heart, the trend towards malevolence and corruption is quick and aggressive, so once Horus goes "Yeah, sure, I'll accept your healing, Ruinous Powers that I don't know are called Ruinous Powers" he might immediately become a huge asshole. But, again, that's all well after the excerpted bit. So to the extent that this book sets out to answer the question "How did Horus fall?" it does so reasonably well albeit clumsily.

There are a couple more scenes where Loken is investigating what happened with Samus and Xayver Jubal and people are like "Trust me, there's no intelligences in the warp; it's just energy" and Loken is "Not sure I believe that but okay" or people go "Hmm this ancient text suggests that there might be intelligences in the warp who can possess people" and Loken reacts with doubt and shock, and again I find myself looking at the page and going "Horus told you about Warp intelligences in the first book in so many words and you accepted it!" Like, that scene from Horus Rising that I hated is now an actual plot hole. Sigh.

There's a point where someone says "My mouth's as dry as a Tallarn's sandal"; that's an anachronism, later books in this series will deal with Tallarn being turned from a verdant paradise into a scorched desert. I'm calling this one out for two reasons. The first is because I'm trying to notice anachronisms as I go because I think it's interesting how the writer pool's common understanding of the timeline of the Heresy evolves as the series progresses, and in that context it's just a curiosity. It's fine. They had no way of knowing there'd be a series of short stories compiled into a book called Tallarn a decade later. But on another level... I really hate this sort of SF/F Brand Aphorism, like when someone in a Star Wars book says "This place is as smelly as a Rancor's armpit." Stop it, it always comes across as clumsy. It's like watching a Funko! Pop emerge from the page as I read. "Hey, customer, you like [BRAND], right? Would you like to be reminded of [BRAND]?" Dude I am reading a tie-in novel, obviously I like [BRAND], you don't need to pile it on so heavily. Just say no to these, I beg you.

[tollundmen]

les mis stage show thoughts (as promised) (it’s long) (and unedited)

Lost the playbill so I can’t credit the actors by name but Valjean and Eponine both had incredible voices

Before Valjean goes into Digne, he passes by Petit Gervais and steals the coin. Nice little easter egg that I could annoy my sister by pointing out

I’d forgotten how overtly Christian the musical is. Like, Jesus references everywhere. I guess this element is present in the book and all adaptations, but I think the musical lacks depth and complexity in its religious metaphors since it effectively cuts out the social commentary. Not begrudging the musical of this—I think in order to make an entertaining musical you’re going to cut out Hugo’s polemics—but still an observation. 

What Have They Done To My Girl Fantine

^^This is one of two major complaints I have with the musical. Obviously, Hugo’s writing is riddled with strange misogyny, both unique to him and typical of his time. However, I’d argue he does try to portray his women sympathetically. Despite the ultimate message of lower-class women as victims of upper-class male society, the book’s Fantine does have agency. She is desperately trying to life a live free from the patriarchal realities of her day. The musical robs her of this agency. I may be misremembering, but I don’t believe the foreman wants to fuck her in the book, and I don’t think that builds resentment between her and her coworkers. You could maybe argue that this relationship between her and the foreman takes the narrative place of her relationship with Thomolyes, but I don’t think that’s a strong argument. I dislike how involved and kind she is with Valjean. I think it’s crucial to his relationship with Cosette that Fantine is effectively a stranger to him. I also dislike how she leads Valjean to heaven at the end of the musical. Again, I think it weakens her character because she becomes a supporting character to Valjean. But I digress.

Also I still think it’s weird to reverse Fantine’s descent into prostitution and the Fauchelevant cart incident. Not that problematic, just weird.

Who Am I is a great song though. Like watching it happen onstage is just fantastic. I adore a scene where you can see the characters running through time and space. It’s one of those scenes that can only happen in musicals, I think. Just super cool.

I wish it was insinuated in the musical that Javert’s appearance killed Fantine. But the choreography with Javert and Valjean during The Confrontation is sick as fuck. During this production, they did stuff with a chain.

I forget how valverty the musical is

The woman behind me kept laughing really loud at the Thenardiers. I forgot where the homophobic line is so I was distracted during those parts instead and forgot to laugh.

Mdme Thenardier is an interesting character because her writing is like sooooo misogynistic, dude. Not the musical’s fault here, though.

Little Cosette was cute.

Political background of the musical is not really explained at all. The audience is just expected to know about the June Rebellion and General Lamarque. Didn’t realize this until my mom asked me about it afterward (unfortunately I’ve developed a reputation for knowing things like this… not sure how). But now that I think about it, Les Amis and the barricade does seem super random. I think this has to do with nearly completely cutting out the whole class struggle part of Hugo’s Les Mis—or at least skimming over it or making it comedic. Pretty hard to cut it out completely. Honestly, I think the playbills should just come with a brief overview of French political turmoil at that time & that could solve a lot of issues. 

Actor who played Grantaire was a good actor (maybe I was just highly attuned to him, though). All of his movement seemed to circle around Enjolras. He played the part of the cynic really well. I’ve read some other people’s reviews of the current US Tour that have said they’d heard Grantaire picked up inspiration from fic, and I could definitely see it here. Not just the whole Enjolras thing, but because he took a lot of care of Gavroche during the whole show. Maybe that’s an established stage Grantaire role, but I still enjoyed observing it. 

But Maybe I Just Love Gavroche

However, What Have They Done To My Girl Eponine

^^This is my second major complaint with the musical. Reread everything I said for Fantine. The musical completely replaces her class struggle plot line with a romantic struggle plot line with some class difference undertones. Idk. I wish her relationship with Marius was explored differently, is all. She becomes an underutilized supporting character for Marius. 

However, On My Own goes hard. I already mentioned that her actor just had a fantastic voice. She was incredibly talented, and I really wish I still had that playbill.

Where the fuck does Marius comes from? I didn’t realize that in the musical this is not explained at all anywhere. He’s just some random dude until he and Cosette have this lavish upper-class wedding. Kinda funny.

I also think it’s funny how politically involved musical Marius is. He’s not a loser at all! Poor guy. He’s noble and stuff. What a chore.

Drink With Me fucks incredibly (except the second part where Marius gets all sad and stuff). Grantaire put his everything into his lines—delivered with such vitriol toward Enjolras, but I have to give credit to Enjolras’s actor for displaying such complicated emotions toward Grantaire in their little stage time together. You could tell he cared for Grantaire deeply. They have several moments where they pressed heads together, shared long, meaningful looks, etc. Nice to see. 

Bring Him Home was delivered so so well, but I can’t help but laugh a lil. His ass does not see him as the son he never had. 

Woman behind me was WEEPING when Gavroche died.

The lighting during the barricade was absolutely incredible. 

Grantaire was the last to die, and he did so in the same position as Enjolras had a few moments ago. The also pointed/saluted each other a lot. Again, nice easter eggs for those of us who Know. also he never touched a gun during the whole show. I think he’s handed one once but quickly passes it off. nice touch.

The staging during the sewers part was super cool. There was a projection on the back wall of the stage that moved and really created the illusion that Valjean and Marius are trudging through this long tunnel.

The rest of the musical I didn’t have much to say. I already said my piece on Fantine/Valjean. 

To love another person is to see the face of God does kinda kill me right in my heart though (good way) (almost joined the woman behind me in tears)

[lingeringscars]

t/hg verse for june

district 1

to not fuck w/ finnick being the youngest ever tribute to win, was 15 when reaped and won her games

child prodigy in like every way

her family was killed in what she thought was an accident but really the capital realized they were helping with a rebellion and were killed

metias, her brother, found this out

was also killed by the capital

she doesn't know this for A Long Time so she's all capital's darling and also believes in them

she doesn't necessarily Stop believing in them when she learns all this ( and also Surprise the gov has been lying to u your whole life every district ISN'T equal. she learns about district 11 and is horrified that this was allowed to happen. my baby angel naive child who is also a genius )

she does join the rebellion but also holds onto the idea that the capital could be saved under different leadership