#this is becoming me quoting les and honestly

[bledbetrayl]

@itsalcngstory gets a one liner ( sara )

gesturing to his new outfit , he is proud. " i am she. she is me ."

[roseharpermaxwell]

RWRB FirstPrince Tech-Based Fun Recs

Texting, Online Dating, Instagram, Wrong Number, Social Media, etc. Click below for my favorites!

my husband by @coffeecatsme. T, 750 words. This isn’t the first time Alex roped Henry into a TikTok prank—there are videos of there with millions of views and enough compilations of Henry’s exasperated face that it’s become a meme.

Or, Alex ropes Henry into the latest TikTok couple prank.

Toe the Line by @orchidscript. G, 1k. Henry plays piano while Alex studies. Alex gets caught live-streaming. Henry has a response handy.

swipe right on me by coffeecatsme. T, 1.3k. Henry is scrolling through a profile—a redhead with freckles and a toothy grin that apparently made gym his personality. Alex almost wants to cry when Henry swipes right. Then, there’s the brunette he swipes left on, the Asian man with a dog he lingers before he swipes left as well, and then—

Alex drops his pen on the desk. That’s his profile.

you and i go from one kiss to getting married by vibrantsaturn. T, 1.3k.

Prince Henry @PrinceHenryUKI adore you so much, darling. Never change.

 

Alex Claremont-Diaz @theagcdthat's cute i would literally go to federal prison for you

who's afraid of little old me? (you should be) by @waterloolovers. G, 1.7k.

les 🤠 | fratboy acd truther @agcdiazzz

so has anybody actually seen henry since his abdication bc like… he was seen getting into a car with acd at the airport and it’s been 3 months

call it what you want by vibrantsaturn. T, 1.9k. Alex Claremont-Diaz @theagcd

guys it's 3am and i just found henry crying to taylor swift in the kitchen in the refrigerator light i love this motherfucker so much

Prince Henry @PrinceHenryUK

She makes me feel things.

Alex Claremont-Diaz @theagcd

BABY SHE MAKES ALL OF US FEEL THINGS

william @alltoounwell

THERE'S NO WAY HE JUST CALLED PRINCE HENRY MOTHERFUCKER LMAO

or,

Alex live tweeting his favourite FirstPrince moments. That's it. That's the fic.

all i do is kiss you through the bars of a rhyme by dreakawa. M, 2.2k. Comments flood the screen as more and more viewers arrive in the chat. Alex knows he looks like hell, but quite honestly, he doesn't care; he's had half of a bottle of whiskey and needs to get his feelings out there somehow. Fuck it.

His fingers grip the bridge of his guitar as he continues.

“I've been listening to a lot of music, and especially a lot of The Killers. There were a few different songs I'd considered playing today but one stuck out to me and… well, here we go.”

AKA: Singer!Alex pours his (broken) heart out via song on a livestream one week after Henry ghosted him.

let's be friends (so we can make out) by eclvpsed. NR, 2.2k.

Henry Fox ✓ @HenryFox

Thanks for the cover feature @gaytimes. New issue out now.

19K Retweets 26.1K Quotes 118K Likes

|

alex claremont-diaz ✓ @theacd

no guillotine could take away the head i need to give him

76.2K Retweets 55.6K Quotes 462K Likes

-

OR, actor!Alex Claremont-Diaz publicly thirst tweets about actor!Henry Fox because he is a delinquent and a plague in every universe.

Ever After Era by badmetaphors, gleefulfoxes. T, 2.3k. The Super Six watching the Ever After finale as told by their group chat and the aftermath on Twitter

watch before it ends by @indomitable-love. G, 2.4k. He should be working on this essay so he can spend more time with Henry this weekend. He really, really should be working on this essay. But.

But.

Henry is going live on Instagram.

Bold Statement by regularis_vas. T, 2.4k. Alex attends Milan Fashion Week with Nora and June. they arrive outside the Dior fashion show and let’s say… Alex turns heads.

Or

Alex goes shirtless, Ellen nearly has a stroke and the internet goes wild. (So does Henry)

A Thousand Words by Thunder_Cakes. G, 2.5k. After that Han/Leia mural both their accounts go silent for a while. For months, actually.

They’re both in therapy after Alex tried to post a selfie with June after election night and had a panic attack before he could hit “Share.” Suddenly the thought of sharing the details of his life and loved ones with the world is paralyzing. Wonder why.

or: Alex, Henry and what they choose to share of their life

Bacardi and Hot Sauce by httpstobes. T, 2.5k. Henry’s words are slurred, and Pez hits the ‘Add to Story’ button without a second thought before tossing his phone aside. The song Murder on the Dancefloor comes on, and both of them jump up to scream the lyrics.

That’s the last Percy remembers of that evening; Henry had blacked out a long time before that. Fuckin’ lightweight.

OR: Pez accidentally posts a video of Henry thirsting over Alex. They go on Hot Ones together the day afterwards.

spread (me on your) sheets by @everwitch-magiks. E, 2.6k. Alex creates a sex quiz to determine how well people’s bedroom preferences align with his own. After a night of too much tequila, he sends it to a lot of people.

One blond, blue-eyed respondent scores a hundred. - Also, companion fic Alex Claremont-Diaz’s Comprehensive Coitus Questionnaire by stutteringpeach (M, 2.6k). 

come pick me up by @smc-27. T, 3k. ‘I’m here for you’

He can tell that the person will receive that as a text message as well as in the app, which is a relief because sometimes people like, order rides then absolutely pay no fucking attention to the app. It’s really annoying to have to wait forever for folks.

’Thank you. I’m going through a difficult time currently, so this means a lot.’

Alex stares at the message he received, frowning, and then another comes through.

‘Apologies. I’ve lost all my contacts. Who is this?’

Oh, Christ. This is going to be awkward as fuck.

’This is your Uber driver. I’m outside.’

OR, Alex is an Uber driver. Henry needs a ride the airport.

freddie by @coffeecatsme. T, 3.3k. “Didn’t know BuzzFeed was still relevant enough to do interviews.” He watches a grin spread on Henry’s face, and the glint in his eyes is enough to tell Alex that whatever it is, it’ll at least be fun. “What?” he asks, tugging Henry’s hands. “What is it?”

“They just might be relevant enough for this.” Henry’s palms close around Alex’s cheeks, brushing his curls away. “They asked whether we’d be interested in doing a puppy interview.”

Something To Be Proud Of by @cha-melodius. M, 3.3k. Henry stares at the carbon copy of the email in his inbox and wills time to go backwards. Just a few minutes, that’s all he needs. Enough time to go back and keep autocorrect from transforming whatever he’d typed after ‘he’ in his pronouns after his name into… that.

(Or, an unfortunate typo in an email, lots of dick jokes, and the joy of finding yourself at Pride.)

how would you feel if i told you i loved you? by @waterloolovers. NR, 3.3k. He lasts all of five minutes before he’s opening the link to start a message to Alex.

‘I have been in love with you since the moment I first saw you, but I’m too scared to tell you x’

twitter fox hunting by alyaasca. T, 3.5k. In the middle of another war with twitter bots, Alex notices that the comment 'my pussy in bio' comes from a weird account and goes to explore. There is, indeed, a pussy in bio. A furry one. A cat named Snowflake.

well we're not here to fuck ducks by @dumbpeachjuice. M, 3.7k. Henry is looking for someone to help him with his duck study. He makes quite a serious typo in his 'All Staff' email.

Text Me, Rate Me, If You Want to Date Me by @happinessofthepursuit. E, 3.8k. “He gets over his initial nerves about making conversation fairly quickly, realizing that he has nothing to lose as long as he’s completely anonymous. But Alex still doesn’t really know how to reply to low-effort photos of dicks.

One day, he opens a message to a particularly poorly lit photo of a half-hard cock with minimal grooming. Before he can think twice, Alex replies, ‘2/10, no thank u’ and suddenly, he has his answer.”

Or, Alex rates dicks on Grindr, and Henry has the perfect cock.

kiss me through the phone by @violetbaudelaire-quagmire. M, 3.9k.

[Unknown Number] *Attached image: a shirtless, tanned torso, cropped at the top of shoulders, holding up two brightly patterned ties* which 1?

Excuse me?

or, Alex accidentally texts the wrong number and then just never stops.

self-rec of my contribution to the fandom: Shoot Your Shot. M, 4.2k. Jimmy raises his eyebrows in anticipation. “First celebrity crush?”

As usual, Alex’s mouth is moving before his mind can catch up.

“Oh,” he gestures, like this is both obvious and the easiest question he’s ever been asked. “Prince Henry.”

checkmate by eclvpsed. G, 4.2k.

Alex Claremont-Diaz ✓ @theagcd

let’s be honest the closet was made of glass

110K Retweets 97.7K Quotes 475.2K Likes

|

Alex Claremont-Diaz ✓ @theagcd

i literally went viral last year for staring at arthur fox on the met gala carpet and yall thought i wouldn’t want to climb his son like a tree too

281.2K Retweets 137K Quotes 853.4K Likes

OR, actor!Alex confesses that singer!Henry was his bi awakening, so Henry casts him as the love interest in his new music video. Seen through stantwt.

i would stay forever by vibrantsaturn. T, 4.5k.

Henry Fox @HenryFox

I can’t stand him

[alex covered in cake, flipping off the camera]

 

Pez  @likethesweets

send help they’re flirting on the tl

 

Alex Claremont-Diaz @theagcd 

you know i love a london boy

Three times is a pattern by @clottedcreamfudge. T, 4.8k. “Hi,” an amused voice says on the other end of the line. “You’re through to Alex at L&G. Can I start by taking your name please?”

“Henry,” he admits, although the lure of a false name is calling to him like a siren song. “I’m – look, how long were you on the line just now?”

There’s a pause before the man answers. “I’m legally obligated to advise you that these calls are recorded for training and monitoring purposes. Is that enough of an answer?”

Henry just about manages not to swear. “Thank you. Unfortunately that is very clear.”

“Great. How can I help you today, Henry?”

He wonders if they offer euthanasia.

One Number Away by smc_27. T, 4.9k. “Hello?” a confused sounding voice on the other end of the line says.

It is not Pez. Pez doesn’t answer like that. With the fanfare of “my dearest Hazza” or “my sweet prince” or “you absolutely unforgivable scoundrel.” Only the first of these has any root in truth or accuracy.

Also, Pez is not American.

“I’m sorry. You’re not…Not Pez. Right. I’m sorry.”

OR: Henry dials a wrong number. Alex answers.

fall back into place by @vibrantsaturn. T, 5.1k. The hardest thing about being in love with Henry, Alex thinks, is keeping it a secret.

or,

People have been shipping Alex, a recording breaking musician, and Henry, a five time Academy Award winner, for years, despite them never interacting in public, or even following each other on social media. They've been secretly married all this time.

if evil, why so cute? by everwitch. E, 5.4k. Alex’s cat hates Alex, but loves Henry, the Bookstagram influencer who’s on vacation in Alex’s quiet seaside town. And while Alex is pretty salty about his grumpy cat’s inexplicable affection for a complete stranger, he must admit he can see the appeal; Henry is fucking gorgeous. It’s why Alex follows him on Instagram in the first place. It's just, Alex had never thought he’d be officially introduced to Henry by his own goddamn cat.

Or: Henry takes a two-week vacation to a seaside cabin with the intent to read a lot of books. Instead, he has a lot of sex.

Are You Screwing With Me? by @rmd-writes. E, 6.5k. Alex is only downloading Grindr because he’s curious. It doesn’t fucking mean anything, right? And when he answers a call for help from a very hot neighbour – who has no business having a shoulder-to-waist ratio like that – he’s just being friendly. It definitely doesn’t mean that he’s going to discover things about himself that he’d assumed were just passing curiosity.

Or, the Grindr meet-cute AU

I hope you don't mind that I put it down in words by knowledgeiscake. T, 7.2k. NBC News @nbcnews

Journalist Alleges First Son Alexander Claremont-Diaz Cheated with Him on Vice President’s Granddaughter Nora Holleran

An epistolary fic blending the book and movie verses where ACD gets outed by Miguel before Philip and Martha's wedding even happens

and you can tell everybody by @14carrotghoul. M, 7.7k. Rising star Alex Claremont-Diaz slowly reveals his secrets to the masses.

Give You The World by quill_and_ink. E, 7.9k. Alex loves to tease Henry in his TikTok videos. For his birthday, Henry turns the tables.

(Door)Dash to the Heart by bleedingballroomfloor. M, 8.1k. The man looks up when Henry opens the door. "Henry?"

Henry clears his throat. "That's me," he manages.

"Cool," the man says. "You're making me hungry for breakfast with this order, man. Which is bad for me, because my breakfast is usually just coffee, and there's no way I can drink that this late."

"Uh," Henry says. He's pretty sure dashers don't talk this much during orders.

"Anyway," the man says, handing the bag of food to Henry, "enjoy your night."

Five times Henry gets late-night food from his insanely hot DoorDasher Alex, and one time they get food together at a normal time.

Bake It Til You Make It by OrchidScript. T, 8.4k. The chaos dead-ended in a linked TikTok video. By the looks of it, just a pasty-faced white dude in a tee shirt with a mug of… something. Why that would be interesting to anyone, Alex didn’t know and didn’t guess. He rolled his eyes and clicked on it anyway.

“Are you serious?” He asked, a second later dissolving into laughter. The video froze, a small banner appearing over a stagnant image reading 'Man Pleasing Appetizers 1971'.

Blondie was a Brit, and Alex wasn’t going to lay there and say that didn’t do something for him. He’d come to terms with his bisexuality enough to know that made the stranger hotter — even just the littlest bit. Especially when the video started rolling again

Alex falls down the rabbit hole of an H.J. Fox's Tiktok videos, falling a little bit in love with the terrors and treasures of cooking past he finds there, while recovering from a sinus infection. Back in class and confronted by H.J. Fox -- Henry Fox, to be exact -- in the lecture seat next to him, Alex does what any normal, well-adjusted adult would do: He suggests his recipes, just to watch Henry make them.

Will Alex get to watch his cake and eat it too, or will he get something sweeter than hoped for? 

Amazed at How We Talk (Once, Successfully) by @sparklepocalypse. E, 8.7k. And, well. Fuck that guy. Alex isn’t about to rub elbows with people who can’t even stand to be in the same room as him.

Alex isn’t sulking when he sidles up to the bar and steals a man’s whisky. He also isn’t sulking when he obtains a second glass, this one neat. Or when he snags a large plate of canapés from one of the waitstaff and nonchalantly strolls out of the room.

(Movieverse; a riff on the trope that asks, What if Cakegate didn't happen?)

do you think i've forgotten about you? by @vibrantsaturn. T, 9.3k. Henry and Alex are singer-songwriters who've been dating each other on-and-off for ten years, and talking to each other through lyrics while dating other people.

The importance of the 'recall email' feature by clottedcreamfudge. E, 9.6k. "What did that email even say?" Bea interrupts him again, and he glares at her.

"He was asking for an extension."

"Scandalous," she says drily, and he rolls his eyes, stealing the umbrella from her mocktail and wondering whether or not he could use it to end his misery.

"He... addressed me in a fairly comical way. It was quite rude, but apparently unintentional. We've all been there."

Pez nods solemnly. "I once called my tutor 'Carrie' when in fact her name was 'Carey'. Incredibly embarrassing. I couldn't look her in the eye for a week."

"Er, yes," Henry says haltingly. "Yes, just like that." 

Well It Ain't Missionary by @everwitch-magiks. E, 11k. Alex Claremont-Diaz, a ballet dancer, is asked to list his ‘favorite positions.’ His hilariously suggestive answer goes viral, as does the unexpectedly flustered reaction to it by the Internet’s very own FoxySexEd. So obviously, Alex has to slide into Henry’s DMs. How could he resist? When a man that attractive wants your dick, only a fool would pass.

Henry is surprising. He wants to be pushed around, thrown for a loop, and he wants Alex to do it for him. But whenever Alex tries to soften his landing, Henry clams up like he’s been burned.

Alex can work around that, obviously. He's a dancer. If you're gonna toe the line just right, pointe shoes are a must.

Or: Alex and Henry fuck. Not in missionary.

whenever you're ready by @tedddylupin. E, 12k. “Pez. Please, will you stop tagging me in TikTok thirst traps?” Henry asked as he stepped into his friend’s car.

Pez lowered his Gucci sunglasses on his nose, looking at Henry without anything obscuring his vision and just laughed before pushing them back up with his middle finger. “Don’t fucking lie to me, I know you love them.”

Or: the one where Henry falls in lust with a TikToker making pottery and leaves drunken thirst comments

once, successfully by vibrantsaturn. M, 12k. Grindr, once (un)successfully, etc., etc.

misdial by rizcriz. T, 13k. His phone starts ringing as he’s wringing the coffee out of his shirt in the tiny coffee shop bathroom. He groans, sliding his finger over the answer button as he pulls his shirt up. “June,” he says, as politely and patiently as he can muster, “Now’s really not a great time.”

A distinctly male voice that does not belong to his sister, says, “Er.” He drops his chin and looks down at the counter, where a blond haired beauty is staring up at him from a facetime call. In the top corner, Alex can see what the man sees; himself, partially shirtless, standing over the phone, his abs dripping with coffee.

Alex has no idea who the fuck this man is.

Or, the facetime call that changed Alex's life.

Everyone Knows Who You Are by smc_27. T, 26k. Look, it’s not that he doesn’t feel influencers deserve representation or have complex management needs. It’s just any time he’s met with an influencer, he’s not only had next to nothing in common with them, but he’s also got no bloody clue what they’re talking about half the time. It’s a world far away from the one he typically resides in. He deals with authors and musicians and the occasional up and coming tennis player or gymnast or swimmer. His niche.

He walks into Conference Room B and sees Alex Claremont-Diaz sitting there in a smart black button down shirt, unbuttoned just enough to be devastating but not inappropriate. Henry’s boss is there, too.

When Alex sees Henry, he smiles, but also gives a discreet look up and down. Oh, god. No.

We’ll Invite Something In by smc_27. E, 26k. Alex is grinning a little too hard.

This is absolutely idiotic and pointless and fun.

The cover of Hello UK with a photo of him pulled out and a photo of His Royal Highness Prince Henry Fox-Mountchristen whatever the hell the rest of his names are (Alex knows; he being a dick) with the admittedly stupid but flattering headline which reads: His Royal Highness: He’s just like us and crushes on Pres ACD.

Ignite My Heart by @absoluteaudacitywrites. M, 30k. “So, I’m making you an account and we’re going to swipe right on some men and you can thank me later,” Pez says.

The 'We met on Tinder' AU

RWRB YouTube Interviews series by @happiness-of-the-pursuit. M, 31k. Hot Ones, etc

Hashtag Soulmates by everwitch. E, 44k. Alex is perfect and handsome, the golden boy, everybody’s secret crush. So there is absolutely no way that he is the reader who screeches in caps lock every time that Henry posts as much as a drabble. There’s no way. Except Alex just closed his browser fast as fucking lightning, but not before Henry had gotten a good glimpse of the page Alex had open: AO3. ‘Don't Stop Me Now’, Henry’s current wip. The one that Henry literally just updated.

Sweet Jesus. Could it really be?

I only tag an author once per post, but I'm still figuring out firstprince author handles. If you see one I may not know or find a broken link, please give me a heads up!

Master List of RWRB FirstPrince Recs

Master List of Recommendations

[tetheredbysin]

Wait hold on so Kevin is saying he might not race anymore?! One thing is f1, but it sounds like he is ready to give it up all together. Like he will miss it if he stops completely, but also that he is ready for a new adventure, possibly something unrelated to racing.

I don't know how to feel. I hope he does whatever makes him and his family happy, but I had hoped to see him in IMSA or something.

https://www.dr.dk/sporten/formel1/kevin-magnussen-om-fremtiden-spoejst-vaere-32-aar-og-foele-man-har-peaket

From following Kevin for the past decade (god that makes me feel so old, even tho I'm not) I feel pretty confident in saying that we will see Kevin racing again, unless something truly bizarre happens. He has always shown interest towards a lot of different racing categories, anything from bikes to rally to speedboats, so I feel like he'll find his way to it if the opportunity presents itself.

the feel I get from the interview is more "I'm out of F1 for next year and I have yet to find the one thing that interests me the most, so I'll keep my options open instead of just rushing into any open seat". An answer about his immediate future for next year but not for the rest of his life. Seats in motorsport are tough to grab, no matter who you are, so it can take a bit of work to find the exact one that feels worth the effort. Not to mention doing one off races here and there, that is also an opportunity. (Still holding out hope for a Kmag Le Mans win.)

Kev's been more and more involved with a lot of companies recently, becoming a part of Intellis, owning the Nordic franchise of Oakberry, all that sort of stuff, and he seems truly interested in that world. So, perhaps there is a world where someday that is where he focuses more of his interest in. But again, there's been a lot of signs that he will continue as well based on other interviews and stuff like signing with YRDS, which is a sports and entertainment marketing agency and I doubt we're about to see Kevin launch a career in entertainment. He's just enjoying life and honestly, what else could we wish for him?

I will say, this interview did give me one of my new favorite Kevin quotes, so I'll end off with that, because I thought it was truly beautiful.

"Jeg er ikke længere kun racerkører – jeg er også menneske."

(roughly translates to "I am no longer just a racing driver, I am also a human.")

[the-sun-is-also-a-star]

"For someone who loved words as much as I did, it was amazing how often they failed me."

-- If We Were Villains by M. L. Rio

“Because freedom, I am told, is nothing but the distance between the hunter and its prey.”

-- On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong

and as for poetry, i like to talk about "Written in my Dreams by W. C. Williams" by Allen Ginsberg with other people because it's short and rolls over the tongue nicely and i like to come back to it, puts a smile on my face, you know?

i'll also never forget "A Carcass" by Charles Baudelaire from when we read it at school years ago and then again in high school and i have now chosen Les Fleurs du mal as one of the books for my oral school leaving exam, so it's definitely one of those authors i read once and was never able to get out of my head

and last but not least, Louise Glück (may she rest in peace) and her "Theory of Memory" which includes the ending "Right now you are a child holding hands with a fortune-teller. All the rest is hypothesis and dream." and i simply don't have a choice but to love this one

i have so many more favourites, but these are the ones i can think of right now hehe <33

what r ur favourite poems and quotes??

those are brilliant actually

mine are quite, different to what one may think but i like finding meaning in things that other people think are only surface level :

思い出なんか いらん - we don't need memories

this is from the anime haikyuu LMAO which is a fucking volleyball anime and it is the team motto of one of the teams. It is quite honestly my life motto at this point. I used to live in the past, excused people for thing they do now because they were different in the past. they were different in my memories. I was so focused on the past i forgot to enjoy my present. I am done doing that. My memories hold me back. I am tired of it.

"to love and lose and still be kind" - warsan shire

this is pretty self explanatory. i dont think I've had a hard life. but i certainly haven't had an easy one. i have a habit of giving too much of myself to people. I'm working on rectifying that whilst still being kind.

"but i cut people out like tags on my clothing" - conan gray

I LOVE people watching its one of my favourite songs. but this line is really important to me. I've cut the tags off of my clothing for as long as I can remember. ever since i was a kid. I also have a habit of cutting out people the second they break my trust. as easy as cutting off tags from my clothing. I don't think its a good habit or a bad habit. it just. is.

"It's always the ones who are quietest who often have the greatest things to say" - TJ Klune, Wolfsong

This is from one of my favourite books of all time. I was a quiet child for a while. I never got excited for anything and after a while my parents suspected I had childhood depression, we still don't know for sure if I did. It makes a lot of sense though. It took me a while to become confident in my own voice and my own opinions. this quote is really important to me.

"Men don't cry. My daddy taught me that. Men don't cry because they don't have time to cry.

I must not have been a man yet because I cried. I bowed my head and cried." - TJ Klune, Wolfsong

This isn't personal to me in anyway, I just really, really love this part of the book and these two lines in particular.

"I'll be your hands." "I'll be your sanity." - TJ Klune, Ravensong

love has always been something I've read about. but this quote takes the damn cake.

as for poems,

At a Funeral by Dennis Brutus

I analyzed this poem for an English Lit class and the story behind why it was written really stuck with me. It was written after the death of Valencia Majombozi who was shot on the day of her graduation from nursing school. Its a protest poem and it just hits really fucking hard.

Death of a Naturalist by Seamus Heaney

This was the first poem that i ever took inspiration from. I had of course written before, but I really enjoyed Heaney's writing style so it strongly influenced my poem Quietude, which I am planning to submit to the empty inkwell publication...hopefully lol

Identity Card by Mahmoud Darwish

This poem is written as a form of protest poetry as well. Mahmoud Darwish was a Palestinian poet, for those of you who do not know and he wrote this poem about being asked for his identity card by Israeli Officers. Its really, really good.

[transsexualgriffith]

3 about berk and also if youve seen any bad Dostoevsky takes, 7 +17 for bsd, 22 berk ❤️

lord I forgot to do this. luckily you haven't answered the ask I sent you either, so I think we're even.

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

oh god on tumblr?? it's not that tumblr isn't still brimming with bad berserk takes, but I am fairly good at evading those, and besides if I wanted some truly terrible berserk analysis, I could simply go on reddit. I think "the ideal culmination of their arcs would be for guts and casca to become king and queen of midland" is, well, I've certainly never heard that one before, but I find it more funny than offensive, and truly bad takes are the ones that feel like the story is purposely being misread to fuel downright dehumanising ways of thinking; so you know what I'm giving this to the racist fyodor x reader blog that talked abt how fyodor would never lower himself to selling his body and then basically went "(like that whore griffith from berserk)" which I still think is one of the most maddening things I've witnessed. perhaps not a berserk specific take, but a tumblr moment if I've ever seen one. ofc if we were talking outside of tumblr I'd have much worse things to show for. you truly got anything from misogyny posting to to blaming people for their csa out there (its a beautiful world), but tbh one of my favourites is the "guts left bcs he was trying to escape griffiths clutches". dostoevsky I'm not sure I can think of anything particularly outrageous, you must understand the true opponent of dostoevskyblr isn't the bad takes its the people trying to disguise tiktok poetry as quotes

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because of how the fandom acts about them?

okay to start off with I don't think there's a single character in bsd that I truly hate: asagiri is too good of a character writer for this and I think the few that I do feel some disdain towards or find myself unintrested in could still be brought closer to me if asagiri could please get back to writing shoujo-esque character driven party conflicts and novels, instead of playing powerscaling with the 5th dimension. unfortunately i think the worst fanon treatment is that of my favourite characters. would be alot easier if I hated them.

i guess chuuya could almost be counted here, because although I very much like chuuya, he used to. basically be my favourite character (??) which honestly baffles me and I cannot quite understand why, but then again, that was many years ago when bsd was in a very different state, both story and fandom wise. I really don't want to look at much of fanon chuuya content and don't find him outstandingly interesting, but I will acknowledge that it is quite fruitless to complain chuuya should get so much attention even though he's "a side character" when we have asagiri to thank for two chuuya centric light novels with the approximate page count of les miserables.

i also do not really like kōyō and find the girlboss mafioso thing very weird and off putting, but it sucks to say this because there are also alot of people who clearly judge her through the misogynistic lense.

and I think everyone should shut the fuck up about mori and talk about something else. I like mori, but I actually find it quite exhausting how even when you're amongst mori likers they can never ever turn down the morality discourse, enough! I don't care what he is he's not real can we like actually talk abt his role in the story in a meaningful way. please.

this question should've been abt ships tbh fanon sskk is going to make me blast myself into the sun.

17. there should be more of this type of fic/art

shibusawa content..............my woman!? I swear to god the bsd fandom is four times the size of what it was when I got here (and mind you bsd was never that underground) and yet the fic count has gone up by like ten. and I have likely seen dead apple more than any other living person so I know how bad of a movie it is (though i think you are truly missing out on the sheer amount of homoeroticism if you do not invest in it even a little bit) but no one can deny how visually appealing shibusawa's character design is, so it is crazy to me that people aren't more eager to draw her. I've also never forgiven tiktok for what they did to dazatsu. we used to have it all in like 2017. we were pioneers. but overall I don't feel unsatisfied with fan content for bsd, it's always been expansive.

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

i don't know if I have a good answer for this, just because berserk is so extremely appraised that it never feels like there’s a part of canon left untalked about, but I do know that my love for the black swordsman arc far surpasses that of the average berserk fan, and though I see it discussed often enough there really isn't any fanfic or something of the sort focusing on that period in time, which is rather sad for me bcs I think guts cringfail pursuit of femto is very funny. I also just have always liked millennium falcon, and don't feel like others particularly care for the inner workings of the kushan regime, or mule, or the ganishka conflict as a whole which I think is pretty lit. the cosmology lore in those chapters is much more compelling than whatever guts has going on in mage world.

[cto10121]

Harry Potter Clown Takes Special Edition—Le Guin Again

In which an old Le Guin quote returns to bring all the HP clown shakes to the yard. Is it better than yours? Let’s find out.

So Le Guin made this comment in a 2005 interview, by which time Half-Blood Prince was published, the darkest and most morally complicated book of the series by that point. Apart from that, her criticism is not very good for these reasons:

1. Rowling never claimed her series was original. I even honestly doubt there were adult critics were calling her books original. Even in its heyday there were plenty of critics and even a lot of cranks suing Rowling for plagiarism for the magical school idea. Most likely the critics were referring to Rowling’s execution, which indeed much more fleshed out than Le Guin’s very cursory and drama-free treatment. At the very least Rowling’s characters have plausible personalities than the symbolic cyphers of A Wizard of Earthsea.

2. I’ve struggled with understanding what “ethically mean-spirited” even means, given the series’ singular preoccupation with morality and the blatant moral complication Rowling develops in the latter half of the books. If Le Guin means the karma potshots at the actual abusive and mean-spirited Dursleys or even Fred and George’s nastier pranks, then I suppose kids rebelling against their tormentors or, er, doing stupid kid shit can be said to be ethically mean-spirited. And even the Dursleys are given a quick and easy exit at the end of Book 7 with not even a loss in pride and a slightly reformed Dudley (!!).

I have a feeling that had the series had framed these petty revenges on the Dursleys negatively and urged forgiveness that Le Guin would have said the series legitimized abuse and ill-treatment. If anything Rowling is a sentimental softie compared to the likes of Roald Dahl. Brad Neely’s hilarious narration even makes fun of the corny coming-of-age tropes Harry Potter exemplifies.

‘90s sensibility is right! Boy, those ethnic stereotypes are a whopper. Cho Chang is a Ravenclaw, a Quidditch athlete, and an easy and sentimental crier, especially when it comes to relationship drama. Lee Jordan is the unofficial trickster pal of Fred and George and offered entertaining if funnily biased Quidditch commentary. Angelina Johnson is a very good Quidditch player, gets almost as fanatic as Wood when she becomes captain, goes with half the twins to the Yule Ball, and has dreadlocks (?). There isn’t much to Dean Thomas (half-blood, father walked out on him) except as a friend of Seamus; he later dates Ginny. Parvati is a girly girl who likes Divination and pals around with fellow girly girl Lavender. Kingsley Shacklebolt is an Order member, excellent at passing as a Muggle, and becomes Minister of Magic. Don’t all these description scream “stereotypical” to you???? I know it does to me.

As for moral sophistication…I guess you could write a whole ass kid series about how the government is not only ineffective and in denial of a white wizard supremacist threat but are actually intimately in bed with them and actually has no problem with their ideas. I guess you could portray the whole of wizard society as supremacist lite(tm) and even have a whole-ass plotline about supremacist attitudes against non-magical creatures. But that will be too morally unsophisticated for the kiddies, wouldn’t it?

Harry, who begins as a mild, polite (if sassy towards his asshole relatives and assholes in general), average and morally wholesome student, definitely ends the series as a mild, polite, and average and morally wholesome student. Nothing in Harry changed at all, nuh-uh, nope. He only just develops a fierce temper, learned how to properly cast the Cruciatus Curse and other war crime shit, learn and forgive both his mentor’s betrayal and a detested teacher who hated his guts, and sacrifice his life for the greater good. See? No change.

I read A Wizard of Earthsea about a year ago and if someone pointed a gun at my head and demanded to tell me what happened in that book, I would literally die. That said, The Left Hand of Darkness had very good style and craft, so I can only assume that Le Guin just isn’t a writer for the elementary set, period.

Because modern America and Britain is not at all characterized by mean and overly aggressive competition and tribalism between arbitrary groups disguised as wholesome fun and don’t have horrible colonialist histories or unethical lifestyles.

You can’t have your cake and eat it too, Clown OP. Either HP is a morally uncomplicated children’s fantasy that is not good representation of our real world ~or it has deeply problematic depictions of Anglo world and culture through the vehicle of fantasy. It can’t be both.

Harry was literally a child. Kids accept all kinds of shit because they don’t have a foundational understanding yet of what normal is! It’s child psychology 101. Hermione is the exception as the actual smart one and blatant author avatar. But prejudice against Muggleborns and half-bloods was never condoned or tolerated by the Golden Trio or anyone that wasn’t a pureblood supremacist sympathizer. And Harry himself did feel enraged over Riddle’s framing Hepzibah’s house elf for her murder and the Ministry easily accepting this.

I think the issue for most of the criticism is that HP is still a Bildungsroman at heart, so the plot focus is all about Harry’s education and his rise in power and status. But Harry’s actual power to enact real status-quo busting change has always been limited. As in, you know, real life.

[imjustabeanie]

hello!! 🥹 if that's okay, may i get an obey me matchup??? <3

about me: my name is carolina but i mostly go by caro! my pronouns are she/her, i'm afab and demipansexual. i was in one long-term relationship before but it wasn't the best as my previous partner used to treat me really badly, and i defended her for being emotionally abusive like my life depended on it. i'm an ESFP and my ennegram is 8w3!! i'm italian and currently live in italy. i am studying to become a voice actor!

personality: i'm extremely talkative and random, i got told that by how out of context i am i could be a stand-up comedian. i always see the best in people and most of the times end up only seeing that and not the negatives, which lead me to bullying grewing up, but i just don't have it in my blood to be mean towards people. i'm a huge extrovert!

looks: i'm 150cm tall, have a round face, light skin and grey eyes. i have a wolfcut with face framing bangs and dye my hair scarlet red with the lowest layer and a part of my bangs on black! i am extremely into fashion, and am often wearing either "visual-kei" or "jirai-kei" my eyesight is also quite bad, so i wear glasses! specifically iron/silver ones. i also always wear red liptint.

fun facts: i'm a huge nerd (i quote what i remember from reading homestuck in 2020 on a daily basis for the funsies of it.) i speak english, italian and french. i love styling my friends a lot!

likes: fashion, otome games, digital art, just yapping about anything honestly, compliments and complimenting people, SHOPPING, cuddles platonic or not!!

dislike: fake people, wholeheartedly.

love language: my biggest is gifts giving, but i also am a sucker for physical touch and words of affirmation. (in giving!) on recieving anything is fine as long as the person loves me.

ideal type: someone better than my ex (it's really easy.) (SORRY FOR ALL THIS EX SLANDER I AM GETTING OVER IT STILL.) just not being mean to me is enough (jokingly is okay!)

Howdy! I hope you'll like it!

Your obey me match is...Asmo!

Not gonna lie, Levi is a very close match. He just...needs someone very patient with him in relationships given how jealous he can get. But Asmo is a very chill but loving partner.

Now I can understand if you consider Asmo as a little fake. He is but once you get into his inner circle he shows his true self. You just have to show that you accept all his sides, even the uggly ones. Also come on besides the twins, Simeon and perhaps Solomon all brothers have another side. It comes with the package.

Asmo likes your humor, he encourages your career and would glady promote it if you asked. Even if it's not his field he'd be happy to help his lover. Asmo shows his love by being appreciative of you and quality time. He's very touchy, loves complimenting you and takes you on nearly daily dates! He includes you in all aspects of his life. One of his favorite things is going shopping with you and doing self care routines/makeup together. He's for the cameras, if you have an issue with it warn him so he can arrange the situation. He'd never force you to anything, consent is the best beauty out there.

Asmo always stand up for you,his lovely nerdy lover. If anyone dared to bully you and he knew of it? (he'll know). You can be sure their social life is gone. It's messed up to bully, especially with someone as positive as you. Seeing the best in everyone is a lovely quality that he adores about you. He'll be mean for you don't worry. Especially to your ex.

Asmo definitely speaks italian and french. Vu ce qu'il représente et son âge c'est normal de parler plusieurs langues. Tout le monde dans OM sont dans le même panier. Asmo is also a sucker for your gifts and cuddles! He doesn't get jealous too so you can cuddle everyone peacefully. He always parades your gifts and makes sure to properly thanks you for em. It's good that you like physical touch and words of affirmation cuz that's exactly his love language.

[qjackmanifold]

1 - qsmp cubito

fitmc..... the bald swagger won me over.... and the convenient stream times.... one time my friend said that the way i talk about fitmc makes him sound like the main character of the server

2 - egg

RAMÓN....... :(((( he's my favouritest ever not just because he's fit's egg, but also because he's the most overlooked (of the living eggs, anyway), and I have a tendency to gravitate towards obscure, less well-liked characters... also autism swag . tbh.

3 - storyline

the happy pills arc was the first plot i saw out of the qsmp since skimming the vod of flippa's trial... the entire scene with the cages and the build up with pac and that other guy's breakdowns, the fake richas that was just a rock in the bed... it reeled me in. i'm so pissed that somebody had to go and ruin it (¬_¬ )

i also really liked phil's enderking possession thing. a way i can tell how much i liked a particular event is by how many songs it gets in my composite soundtrack playlist. usually there'll only be one or two. i gave that stream SIX (✿◠‿◠) i think i'm just kinda proud of how phil's roleplay skills have evolved

4 - multi-day event

the prison feels like the default answer 😭 honestly, i missed a lot of the prison because of overlap with other unrelated streams and how the ends of the first two days ran later than i could watch, but it was still the most memorable one. i loved the vibes and the little outfits they put the eggs in

5 - one-day event

i am biased because im british but the bonfire night event they did where they detonated big ben and threw an inpromptu birthday party for niki... idk it was just the first time that bonfire night was significant in any way for me since primary school & it made me a little emotional ≧ ﹏ ≦

6 - quote

"i trust u even in the dark" and related Ramón quotes... i wasn't even watching the qsmp when he said those things and yet they are so so potent to me </3

7 - romantic duo

omg WHAAAAT guy following user fitpacs loves fitpac WHAAAAAT . 💀 no but like fitmc and pactw handing us the most perfect ship dynamic ever on a silver platter ofc im gonna eat that up.....

8 - platonic duo

le sigh. dawn darlings. ramón and sunny r just . RGJFHGJHRKPGJEHKJGGKHHKHGFHGFH . you know? you know what i mean???? do you understand me. thats his hermanita.

9 - parent/egg duo

ok this'll be a little out of left field but tubbo is my #2 and i am SO SO SO invested in his and sunny's relationship. listen. fit y ramón. perfect. i've started calling my cat (my darling son, btw) my beautiful baby boy because of those two. but i missed the development of their relationship; while i got to see tubbo become a girldad in real time. and that's something you can't take away from me

10 - non-egg npc

MADAGIO. when people on twitter started she/hering madagio it awakened some kind of demon inside me . i love a well-intentioned but also incredibly fucked up evil woman.

11 - biggest hope for qsmp's storyline

the mystery aspect of the federation and their intentions has been so so fun. i missed stuff like the theory bros (one of my biggest regrets about getting here so late) and cellbit's investigations n stuff. fit's plotline being so intertwined with the federation as a whole too.... tubbo's inflitration of the fed offices.... more of that please :p

who/what is your favourite:

- qsmp cubito

- egg

- storyline

- multiple day event (purgatory/prison etc)

- one-day event (day of the dead/independence day etc)

- quote from qsmp

- romantic duo

- platonic duo

- parent/egg duo

- non-egg npc

- biggest hope for the qsmp storyline/character wise moving forward

and why?

[curiosity-killed]

Lang Qianqiu deserves more love goddammit: a post, unfortunately

This brought to you by the wonderful @veliseraptor & @/yuer on Twitter but also mostly out of spite and the fact that it’s preventing me from writing a very dumb poke-the-bear post abt the entire weird social media culture around The Minors

As always ✨SPOILERS!! SPOILERS EVERYWHERE✨

So first off: when I hit the scene where lqq confronts xl and screams “I will never be like you” I sat up in bed, did a little shimmy of delight, and hissed “fuck yes” at like 2 AM so. Now you have a preview of wtf this train wreck will be

1 ) lqq is a good character

We don’t get a ton of time with lqq because tgcf is 87 side characters running across stage with The Most Interesting Concept constantly one-upping each other before vanishing. But what we do get is, I think, enough to make a pretty compelling story: Lang Qianqiu is a kind and generous prince who is also the sole survivor of the bloody massacre of his entire family, committed by the people dearest to him (both in his belief that Gusohi Fangxin did it and in the reality of An Le’s involvement), who goes on to peacefully lead his fractious nation into a peaceful reign before he ascends as a powerful enough (aka beloved and worshipped enough) god to be ranked among the top heavenly generals. That’s like. Pretty fucking classic protagonist vibes right there.

And, as usual with mxtx’s characters, we get a lot more than this lovely little backstory. In his interactions in canon, lqq is capable of great grief and anger; he is willing to sacrifice himself if it means avenging his murdered family; and he simultaneously holds both great hatred and great respect for his old teacher. And, of course, he winds up raising and taking care of his enemy’s son which shows a remarkable depth of compassion and emotional messiness that I find terribly compelling. He struggles with a simplistic view of justice that is supported by lies told to “protect” him and that is uprooted by the truth and forces him to try to make sense of the world without the guardrails that others installed around him (looking at you mister fangxin sir).

Also I’m stealing my own tweets bc I’m Right but:

*pulls up single barstool to lqq is a good character table* I think it’s interesting & Says Things abt the continued relationship btwn lqq & xl that lqq *didn’t* recognize xl, implying that he left fangxin’s mask in place even when he went to kill him

Like here is the man who killed his family & best friend, who left him abandoned in bloodshed on his 17th bday—& here is also the man who saved his life, who taught him, who lqq looked up to & wanted to be like

Even when lqq *does* recognize xl, he still has so much respect for him paired with that hatred that it’s honestly rlly tragic? Like man. There’s so much grief in lqq’s repeated demands for a duel & insisting it’s fine if xl kills him as long as he doesn’t hold back

*pats lqq pompom* this bb is so sad. And so much more like his teacher than either of them seem to realize or necessarily want

Despite being a pretty minor character, lqq gets a lot of complexity and nuance! Look at this child trying to be grown up while desperately turning to his old master for guidance and “the truth”! Look at him! Be sad!!

2 ) lqq is an excellent parallel to xl

Okay stealing my own tweet again don’t look at me I yell the same shit everywhere

Xl didn’t want lqq to become like him (self-sacrificing, vengeful, alone) but lqq not only became alone, chasing vengeance, & willing to sacrifice himself for revenge—he also became kind, open-minded, & remorseful!! & he still clearly respects xl @ novel end 🙃🙃

We all know hc’s “they’re not very alike at all” and yeah sure baby go support your man but narratively, there’s a lot of importance given to cycles, parallels, and foils in mxtx’s writing and most explicitly (compared to mdzs, haven’t read svss) in tgcf. For example, *gestures at beefleaf, gestures at Xianle Trio vs Wuyogn Crew, gestures at Xie Lian & Jun Wu’s whole uh. Deal.* And while I’d argue xl and lqq are part of a triumvirate rather than a pair, we’re not including mister three-face in this conversation so just looking at xl and lqq:

Both adored and sheltered crown princes

Both taught by a guoshi who was seeking to prevent the repetition of their own tragedies and in their efforts, lied/omitted information and failed to protect their charge from tragedy

Both were betrayed* by their closest friends

Both are the last living members of their respective royal families

Both caught the interest of supernatural beings from a young age

Etc etc I’m getting v bored and distracted writing this so moving on

Most importantly to me, we have their betrayal by a very close and adored mentor and how they react. The confrontation I mention at the start of this shitshow is really imo one of the most important scenes in the novel because it a) illustrates the differences in xl and Jun Wu and b) sort of gives you a preview of how xl ultimately wins

So a) Jun Wu and Xie Lian both take a talented, marked-for ascension young prince under their wing. Jun Wu sees himself in the boy and obsesses over shaping him into Jun Wu’s own image in the belief that this will make him the perfect heir. Jun Wu pushes his chosen heir into situations where Xie Lian is repeatedly harmed in an effort to show that the common people are fickle and cruel and don’t deserve his compassion and care.

Meanwhile, Xie Lian is reluctantly roped into mentoring his prince due to his inability to stand aside when he feels he could do something to prevent hurt or injustice befalling another (simultaneously his great strength and great weakness! God I love him). Xie Lian tries to teach his student to believe in and care for the common people and not to sacrifice himself (see: flashback convo re:taking the force of the sword strike into his own body).

When Xie Lian refuses to bend in the shape Jun Wu demands, Jun Wu bashes his head into the wall. When Lang Qianqiu cries “I will never be like you!”, Xie Lian laughs and says “Good!”.

B) this of course feeds directly into foreshadowing! Like Lang Qianqiu’s bold words, xl ultimately refuses to become like his mentor and remains defiant even when it would stop him from being hurt. Xl beats lqq and says so what if I tricked you, so what if I lied, I still won. Naturally, xl beats Jun Wu not through standard swordplay but by using a trick he learned while forced to busk and wander the earth alone and unlucky for centuries.

…okay so I have fully forgotten what I was actually saying here! Anyway!

Like Xie Lian, Lang Qianqiu spends a time consumed with the need for vengeance, hunting his enemy and rejecting the heavens. And like Xie Lian, he winds up caring for his enemy’s “son” and trying to both comfort him and maintain what’s left of Qi Rong’s life force despite having previously been hellbent on destroying him—bc he sees the impact it has on another person. In the end, he even gives a gift to Xie Lian—his mentor, his role model, and the one who killed his father—that was once given to him as a symbol of unexpected kindness. Sound familiar?

But, importantly, and contradictory to what I have been yelling abt but whatever it’s 12:30 am, Lang Qianqiu is not a direct mirror of Xie Lian but a closing of a vital loop in the story. Lqq is very similar to xl (I will die on this hill!! Only I won’t bc I’m stronger than y’all and will keep swinging these pots and pans) but bc xl tries to do better and keep lqq from suffering the way xl has, lqq is able to have a gentler and more optimistic path forward. He’s proof that even a small act of kindness or even kindness to only one person still matters and has a ripple effect that can’t be seen when you’re in the middle of it—a thread started with xl giving the coral pearl to Lang Ying and closed with Lang Qianqiu returning the pearl to Xie Lian.

So I have no idea if any of this is coherent or compelling but I meant to be asleep two hours ago and the points are:

A) Lang Qianqiu is good actually

B) parallels!!!

C) look ive already started another wip about Lang Qianqiu and Xie Lian and I didn’t want this but no one else wrote it so now I have to so pls just accept this as a warning

*sort of air quotes around this for Xie Lian bc frankly Mu Qing was right & Xie Lian kicked feng xin out BUT on the other hand, it was experienced as a betrayal and we also again have all of Jun Wu’s shit so it evens out

[tontonguetonks]

5 movies, 4 songs, 3 essentials, 2 fave books, 1 quote

Thanks for the tag, @kittycargo! I tag @flintandfuss, @mintamintathings, @cardiganvigilante, @sagittra, & @cupofsquirrelfan! 5 Movies

Three of the most recent movies I've watched, in no particular order, and two I plan on watching in the near future:

Navalny documentary: was... interesting.

Little Women: I tried reading the book, and honestly couldn't finish it. The movie was alright! I watched the recent one, and honestly struggled a little bit with the timeline. It jumped around a lot.

Pride and Prejudice: I've a soft spot for the Kiera Knightly version (and that soundtrack! 😍)

Handsome Devil: I've seen it before, but it's on my list to watch again since watching Heartbreaker

Steelers: The World's First Gay Rugby Club: Ditto, except I haven't seen it yet!

4 Songs

Giving In To The Love - AURORA "If I'll be somebody I'll never let my skin decide it for me. I never had the world, so why change for it? I'll never have the world, so why change for it?"

Balance Ton Quoi - Angèle "J'ai vu qu'le rap est à la mode et qu'il marche mieux quand il est sale; bah faudrait p't'être casser les codes, une fille qui l'ouvre, ça s'rait normal"

September - Earth, Wind & Fire The whole chorus makes me dance :p

Smoorverliefd - Snelle "Ik zie hem fietsen over straat; het voelt als teruggaan in de tijd; want ik was toen op haar; en zij was toen op mij"

Don't Unplug Me - All Caps "I just got the memo about this update to version two. It removed extraneous programs that means emotions like loving you."

3 Essentials

Some sort of hair thing. Elastic, hair pins, claw clip. I can't stand having my hair in my face.

Teaaaaaaa. And coffee. But these days, it's more tea. Currently: Earl Grey & Vanilla with sweetener and milk

Journal & fountain pen to write all the things. It's a pleasure all its own to write with a fountain pen.

2 Fave Books I Reread

As much as I enjoy reading, I haven't read an actual book in so long. I mostly read fanfic at this point.

The Belgariad/Malloreon series by David & Leigh Eddings

Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman

1 Quote

"I am living today as someone I had not yet become yesterday and tonight I will borrow only pieces of who I am today to carry with me tomorrow." - Andrea Gibson

[rillabrooke]

lots of annotations aka me wishing dickens was still alive so he could give a masterclass on foreshadowing and descriptive writing.

tracking: pretty words, i'm crying, love, violence/hatred, duality, les mis parallels, foreshadowing

"A large cask of wine had been dropped and broken, in the street. . . ." to quote my past self: heavy descriptive writing at it's best because it means so much more than what it says. it's got social commentary, character introductions, set-ups for a future scene, and it foreshadows the epic ending! the spilled wine! the spilled blood!!

"The time was to come, when that wine too would be spilled on the street-stones, and when the stain of it would be red upon many there." ^ what i said up there ALSO it's really giving "turning" from les mis the musical. scrubbing the red stains of blood (wine) off the streets and thinking about how it won't be the last time.

". . . Hunger. It was prevalent everywhere." no kidding. in this paragraph, "Hunger" is mentioned 8 times. it's physical prevalence on the page really drives the point home.

"Depressed and slinking though they were, eyes of fire were not wanting among them; nor compressed lips, white with what they suppressed; nor foreheads knitted into the likeness of the gallows-rope they mused about enduring, or inflicting." to reference the musical again, this reminds me of "at the end of the day" and especially "look down." pushed down and deprived by those above them, but one push away from inciting a rebellion.

"Madame Defarge knitted with nimble fingers and steady eyebrows, and saw nothing." yet she see all 👁️👁️

"Monsieur Defarge bent down on one knee to the child of his old master, and put her hand to his lips . . . He had no good-humour in his face, nor any openness of aspect left, but had become a secret, angry, dangerous man." psst defarge, your big reveal is showing. honestly insane how dickens sets that up here, only to come back to this very line in like 30 chapters. bonkers.

Book the First—Recalled to Life

[X] Chapter V. The Wine-shop

A large cask of wine had been dropped and broken, in the street. The accident had happened in getting it out of a cart; the cask had tumbled out with a run, the hoops had burst, and it lay on the stones just outside the door of the wine-shop, shattered like a walnut-shell.

All the people within reach had suspended their business, or their idleness, to run to the spot and drink the wine. The rough, irregular stones of the street, pointing every way, and designed, one might have thought, expressly to lame all living creatures that approached them, had dammed it into little pools; these were surrounded, each by its own jostling group or crowd, according to its size. Some men kneeled down, made scoops of their two hands joined, and sipped, or tried to help women, who bent over their shoulders, to sip, before the wine had all run out between their fingers. Others, men and women, dipped in the puddles with little mugs of mutilated earthenware, or even with handkerchiefs from women’s heads, which were squeezed dry into infants’ mouths; others made small mud-embankments, to stem the wine as it ran; others, directed by lookers-on up at high windows, darted here and there, to cut off little streams of wine that started away in new directions; others devoted themselves to the sodden and lee-dyed pieces of the cask, licking, and even champing the moister wine-rotted fragments with eager relish. There was no drainage to carry off the wine, and not only did it all get taken up, but so much mud got taken up along with it, that there might have been a scavenger in the street, if anybody acquainted with it could have believed in such a miraculous presence.

A shrill sound of laughter and of amused voices—voices of men, women, and children—resounded in the street while this wine game lasted. There was little roughness in the sport, and much playfulness. There was a special companionship in it, an observable inclination on the part of every one to join some other one, which led, especially among the luckier or lighter-hearted, to frolicsome embraces, drinking of healths, shaking of hands, and even joining of hands and dancing, a dozen together. When the wine was gone, and the places where it had been most abundant were raked into a gridiron-pattern by fingers, these demonstrations ceased, as suddenly as they had broken out. The man who had left his saw sticking in the firewood he was cutting, set it in motion again; the women who had left on a door-step the little pot of hot ashes, at which she had been trying to soften the pain in her own starved fingers and toes, or in those of her child, returned to it; men with bare arms, matted locks, and cadaverous faces, who had emerged into the winter light from cellars, moved away, to descend again; and a gloom gathered on the scene that appeared more natural to it than sunshine.

The wine was red wine, and had stained the ground of the narrow street in the suburb of Saint Antoine, in Paris, where it was spilled. It had stained many hands, too, and many faces, and many naked feet, and many wooden shoes. The hands of the man who sawed the wood, left red marks on the billets; and the forehead of the woman who nursed her baby, was stained with the stain of the old rag she wound about her head again. Those who had been greedy with the staves of the cask, had acquired a tigerish smear about the mouth; and one tall joker so besmirched, his head more out of a long squalid bag of a nightcap than in it, scrawled upon a wall with his finger dipped in muddy wine-lees—blood.

The time was to come, when that wine too would be spilled on the street-stones, and when the stain of it would be red upon many there.

And now that the cloud settled on Saint Antoine, which a momentary gleam had driven from his sacred countenance, the darkness of it was heavy—cold, dirt, sickness, ignorance, and want, were the lords in waiting on the saintly presence—nobles of great power all of them; but, most especially the last. Samples of a people that had undergone a terrible grinding and regrinding in the mill, and certainly not in the fabulous mill which ground old people young, shivered at every corner, passed in and out at every doorway, looked from every window, fluttered in every vestige of a garment that the wind shook. The mill which had worked them down, was the mill that grinds young people old; the children had ancient faces and grave voices; and upon them, and upon the grown faces, and ploughed into every furrow of age and coming up afresh, was the sigh, Hunger. It was prevalent everywhere. Hunger was pushed out of the tall houses, in the wretched clothing that hung upon poles and lines; Hunger was patched into them with straw and rag and wood and paper; Hunger was repeated in every fragment of the small modicum of firewood that the man sawed off; Hunger stared down from the smokeless chimneys, and started up from the filthy street that had no offal, among its refuse, of anything to eat. Hunger was the inscription on the baker’s shelves, written in every small loaf of his scanty stock of bad bread; at the sausage-shop, in every dead-dog preparation that was offered for sale. Hunger rattled its dry bones among the roasting chestnuts in the turned cylinder; Hunger was shred into atomics in every farthing porringer of husky chips of potato, fried with some reluctant drops of oil.

Its abiding place was in all things fitted to it. A narrow winding street, full of offence and stench, with other narrow winding streets diverging, all peopled by rags and nightcaps, and all smelling of rags and nightcaps, and all visible things with a brooding look upon them that looked ill. In the hunted air of the people there was yet some wild-beast thought of the possibility of turning at bay. Depressed and slinking though they were, eyes of fire were not wanting among them; nor compressed lips, white with what they suppressed; nor foreheads knitted into the likeness of the gallows-rope they mused about enduring, or inflicting. The trade signs (and they were almost as many as the shops) were, all, grim illustrations of Want. The butcher and the porkman painted up, only the leanest scrags of meat; the baker, the coarsest of meagre loaves. The people rudely pictured as drinking in the wine-shops, croaked over their scanty measures of thin wine and beer, and were gloweringly confidential together. Nothing was represented in a flourishing condition, save tools and weapons; but, the cutler’s knives and axes were sharp and bright, the smith’s hammers were heavy, and the gunmaker’s stock was murderous. The crippling stones of the pavement, with their many little reservoirs of mud and water, had no footways, but broke off abruptly at the doors. The kennel, to make amends, ran down the middle of the street—when it ran at all: which was only after heavy rains, and then it ran, by many eccentric fits, into the houses. Across the streets, at wide intervals, one clumsy lamp was slung by a rope and pulley; at night, when the lamplighter had let these down, and lighted, and hoisted them again, a feeble grove of dim wicks swung in a sickly manner overhead, as if they were at sea. Indeed they were at sea, and the ship and crew were in peril of tempest.

For, the time was to come, when the gaunt scarecrows of that region should have watched the lamplighter, in their idleness and hunger, so long, as to conceive the idea of improving on his method, and hauling up men by those ropes and pulleys, to flare upon the darkness of their condition. But, the time was not come yet; and every wind that blew over France shook the rags of the scarecrows in vain, for the birds, fine of song and feather, took no warning.

The wine-shop was a corner shop, better than most others in its appearance and degree, and the master of the wine-shop had stood outside it, in a yellow waistcoat and green breeches, looking on at the struggle for the lost wine. “It’s not my affair,” said he, with a final shrug of the shoulders. “The people from the market did it. Let them bring another.”

There, his eyes happening to catch the tall joker writing up his joke, he called to him across the way:

“Say, then, my Gaspard, what do you do there?”

The fellow pointed to his joke with immense significance, as is often the way with his tribe. It missed its mark, and completely failed, as is often the way with his tribe too.

“What now? Are you a subject for the mad hospital?” said the wine-shop keeper, crossing the road, and obliterating the jest with a handful of mud, picked up for the purpose, and smeared over it. “Why do you write in the public streets? Is there—tell me thou—is there no other place to write such words in?”

In his expostulation he dropped his cleaner hand (perhaps accidentally, perhaps not) upon the joker’s heart. The joker rapped it with his own, took a nimble spring upward, and came down in a fantastic dancing attitude, with one of his stained shoes jerked off his foot into his hand, and held out. A joker of an extremely, not to say wolfishly practical character, he looked, under those circumstances.

“Put it on, put it on,” said the other. “Call wine, wine; and finish there.” With that advice, he wiped his soiled hand upon the joker’s dress, such as it was—quite deliberately, as having dirtied the hand on his account; and then recrossed the road and entered the wine-shop.

This wine-shop keeper was a bull-necked, martial-looking man of thirty, and he should have been of a hot temperament, for, although it was a bitter day, he wore no coat, but carried one slung over his shoulder. His shirt-sleeves were rolled up, too, and his brown arms were bare to the elbows. Neither did he wear anything more on his head than his own crisply-curling short dark hair. He was a dark man altogether, with good eyes and a good bold breadth between them. Good-humoured looking on the whole, but implacable-looking, too; evidently a man of a strong resolution and a set purpose; a man not desirable to be met, rushing down a narrow pass with a gulf on either side, for nothing would turn the man.

Madame Defarge, his wife, sat in the shop behind the counter as he came in. Madame Defarge was a stout woman of about his own age, with a watchful eye that seldom seemed to look at anything, a large hand heavily ringed, a steady face, strong features, and great composure of manner. There was a character about Madame Defarge, from which one might have predicated that she did not often make mistakes against herself in any of the reckonings over which she presided. Madame Defarge being sensitive to cold, was wrapped in fur, and had a quantity of bright shawl twined about her head, though not to the concealment of her large earrings. Her knitting was before her, but she had laid it down to pick her teeth with a toothpick. Thus engaged, with her right elbow supported by her left hand, Madame Defarge said nothing when her lord came in, but coughed just one grain of cough. This, in combination with the lifting of her darkly defined eyebrows over her toothpick by the breadth of a line, suggested to her husband that he would do well to look round the shop among the customers, for any new customer who had dropped in while he stepped over the way.

The wine-shop keeper accordingly rolled his eyes about, until they rested upon an elderly gentleman and a young lady, who were seated in a corner. Other company were there: two playing cards, two playing dominoes, three standing by the counter lengthening out a short supply of wine. As he passed behind the counter, he took notice that the elderly gentleman said in a look to the young lady, “This is our man.”

“What the devil do you do in that galley there?” said Monsieur Defarge to himself; “I don’t know you.”

But, he feigned not to notice the two strangers, and fell into discourse with the triumvirate of customers who were drinking at the counter.

“How goes it, Jacques?” said one of these three to Monsieur Defarge. “Is all the spilt wine swallowed?”

“Every drop, Jacques,” answered Monsieur Defarge.

When this interchange of Christian name was effected, Madame Defarge, picking her teeth with her toothpick, coughed another grain of cough, and raised her eyebrows by the breadth of another line.

“It is not often,” said the second of the three, addressing Monsieur Defarge, “that many of these miserable beasts know the taste of wine, or of anything but black bread and death. Is it not so, Jacques?”

“It is so, Jacques,” Monsieur Defarge returned.

At this second interchange of the Christian name, Madame Defarge, still using her toothpick with profound composure, coughed another grain of cough, and raised her eyebrows by the breadth of another line.

The last of the three now said his say, as he put down his empty drinking vessel and smacked his lips.

“Ah! So much the worse! A bitter taste it is that such poor cattle always have in their mouths, and hard lives they live, Jacques. Am I right, Jacques?”

“You are right, Jacques,” was the response of Monsieur Defarge.

This third interchange of the Christian name was completed at the moment when Madame Defarge put her toothpick by, kept her eyebrows up, and slightly rustled in her seat.

“Hold then! True!” muttered her husband. “Gentlemen—my wife!”

The three customers pulled off their hats to Madame Defarge, with three flourishes. She acknowledged their homage by bending her head, and giving them a quick look. Then she glanced in a casual manner round the wine-shop, took up her knitting with great apparent calmness and repose of spirit, and became absorbed in it.

“Gentlemen,” said her husband, who had kept his bright eye observantly upon her, “good day. The chamber, furnished bachelor-fashion, that you wished to see, and were inquiring for when I stepped out, is on the fifth floor. The doorway of the staircase gives on the little courtyard close to the left here,” pointing with his hand, “near to the window of my establishment. But, now that I remember, one of you has already been there, and can show the way. Gentlemen, adieu!”

They paid for their wine, and left the place. The eyes of Monsieur Defarge were studying his wife at her knitting when the elderly gentleman advanced from his corner, and begged the favour of a word.

“Willingly, sir,” said Monsieur Defarge, and quietly stepped with him to the door.

Their conference was very short, but very decided. Almost at the first word, Monsieur Defarge started and became deeply attentive. It had not lasted a minute, when he nodded and went out. The gentleman then beckoned to the young lady, and they, too, went out. Madame Defarge knitted with nimble fingers and steady eyebrows, and saw nothing.

Mr. Jarvis Lorry and Miss Manette, emerging from the wine-shop thus, joined Monsieur Defarge in the doorway to which he had directed his own company just before. It opened from a stinking little black courtyard, and was the general public entrance to a great pile of houses, inhabited by a great number of people. In the gloomy tile-paved entry to the gloomy tile-paved staircase, Monsieur Defarge bent down on one knee to the child of his old master, and put her hand to his lips. It was a gentle action, but not at all gently done; a very remarkable transformation had come over him in a few seconds. He had no good-humour in his face, nor any openness of aspect left, but had become a secret, angry, dangerous man.

“It is very high; it is a little difficult. Better to begin slowly.” Thus, Monsieur Defarge, in a stern voice, to Mr. Lorry, as they began ascending the stairs.

“Is he alone?” the latter whispered.

“Alone! God help him, who should be with him!” said the other, in the same low voice.

“Is he always alone, then?”

“Yes.”

“Of his own desire?”

“Of his own necessity. As he was, when I first saw him after they found me and demanded to know if I would take him, and, at my peril be discreet—as he was then, so he is now.”

“He is greatly changed?”

“Changed!”

The keeper of the wine-shop stopped to strike the wall with his hand, and mutter a tremendous curse. No direct answer could have been half so forcible. Mr. Lorry’s spirits grew heavier and heavier, as he and his two companions ascended higher and higher.

Such a staircase, with its accessories, in the older and more crowded parts of Paris, would be bad enough now; but, at that time, it was vile indeed to unaccustomed and unhardened senses. Every little habitation within the great foul nest of one high building—that is to say, the room or rooms within every door that opened on the general staircase—left its own heap of refuse on its own landing, besides flinging other refuse from its own windows. The uncontrollable and hopeless mass of decomposition so engendered, would have polluted the air, even if poverty and deprivation had not loaded it with their intangible impurities; the two bad sources combined made it almost insupportable. Through such an atmosphere, by a steep dark shaft of dirt and poison, the way lay. Yielding to his own disturbance of mind, and to his young companion’s agitation, which became greater every instant, Mr. Jarvis Lorry twice stopped to rest. Each of these stoppages was made at a doleful grating, by which any languishing good airs that were left uncorrupted, seemed to escape, and all spoilt and sickly vapours seemed to crawl in. Through the rusted bars, tastes, rather than glimpses, were caught of the jumbled neighbourhood; and nothing within range, nearer or lower than the summits of the two great towers of Notre-Dame, had any promise on it of healthy life or wholesome aspirations.

At last, the top of the staircase was gained, and they stopped for the third time. There was yet an upper staircase, of a steeper inclination and of contracted dimensions, to be ascended, before the garret story was reached. The keeper of the wine-shop, always going a little in advance, and always going on the side which Mr. Lorry took, as though he dreaded to be asked any question by the young lady, turned himself about here, and, carefully feeling in the pockets of the coat he carried over his shoulder, took out a key.

“The door is locked then, my friend?” said Mr. Lorry, surprised.

“Ay. Yes,” was the grim reply of Monsieur Defarge.

“You think it necessary to keep the unfortunate gentleman so retired?”

“I think it necessary to turn the key.” Monsieur Defarge whispered it closer in his ear, and frowned heavily.

“Why?”

“Why! Because he has lived so long, locked up, that he would be frightened—rave—tear himself to pieces—die—come to I know not what harm—if his door was left open.”

“Is it possible!” exclaimed Mr. Lorry.

“Is it possible!” repeated Defarge, bitterly. “Yes. And a beautiful world we live in, when it is possible, and when many other such things are possible, and not only possible, but done—done, see you!—under that sky there, every day. Long live the Devil. Let us go on.”

This dialogue had been held in so very low a whisper, that not a word of it had reached the young lady’s ears. But, by this time she trembled under such strong emotion, and her face expressed such deep anxiety, and, above all, such dread and terror, that Mr. Lorry felt it incumbent on him to speak a word or two of reassurance.

“Courage, dear miss! Courage! Business! The worst will be over in a moment; it is but passing the room-door, and the worst is over. Then, all the good you bring to him, all the relief, all the happiness you bring to him, begin. Let our good friend here, assist you on that side. That’s well, friend Defarge. Come, now. Business, business!”

They went up slowly and softly. The staircase was short, and they were soon at the top. There, as it had an abrupt turn in it, they came all at once in sight of three men, whose heads were bent down close together at the side of a door, and who were intently looking into the room to which the door belonged, through some chinks or holes in the wall. On hearing footsteps close at hand, these three turned, and rose, and showed themselves to be the three of one name who had been drinking in the wine-shop.

“I forgot them in the surprise of your visit,” explained Monsieur Defarge. “Leave us, good boys; we have business here.”

The three glided by, and went silently down.

There appearing to be no other door on that floor, and the keeper of the wine-shop going straight to this one when they were left alone, Mr. Lorry asked him in a whisper, with a little anger:

“Do you make a show of Monsieur Manette?”

“I show him, in the way you have seen, to a chosen few.”

“Is that well?”

“I think it is well.”

“Who are the few? How do you choose them?”

“I choose them as real men, of my name—Jacques is my name—to whom the sight is likely to do good. Enough; you are English; that is another thing. Stay there, if you please, a little moment.”

With an admonitory gesture to keep them back, he stooped, and looked in through the crevice in the wall. Soon raising his head again, he struck twice or thrice upon the door—evidently with no other object than to make a noise there. With the same intention, he drew the key across it, three or four times, before he put it clumsily into the lock, and turned it as heavily as he could.

The door slowly opened inward under his hand, and he looked into the room and said something. A faint voice answered something. Little more than a single syllable could have been spoken on either side.

He looked back over his shoulder, and beckoned them to enter. Mr. Lorry got his arm securely round the daughter’s waist, and held her; for he felt that she was sinking.

“A-a-a-business, business!” he urged, with a moisture that was not of business shining on his cheek. “Come in, come in!”

“I am afraid of it,” she answered, shuddering.

“Of it? What?”

“I mean of him. Of my father.”

Rendered in a manner desperate, by her state and by the beckoning of their conductor, he drew over his neck the arm that shook upon his shoulder, lifted her a little, and hurried her into the room. He sat her down just within the door, and held her, clinging to him.

Defarge drew out the key, closed the door, locked it on the inside, took out the key again, and held it in his hand. All this he did, methodically, and with as loud and harsh an accompaniment of noise as he could make. Finally, he walked across the room with a measured tread to where the window was. He stopped there, and faced round.

The garret, built to be a depository for firewood and the like, was dim and dark: for, the window of dormer shape, was in truth a door in the roof, with a little crane over it for the hoisting up of stores from the street: unglazed, and closing up the middle in two pieces, like any other door of French construction. To exclude the cold, one half of this door was fast closed, and the other was opened but a very little way. Such a scanty portion of light was admitted through these means, that it was difficult, on first coming in, to see anything; and long habit alone could have slowly formed in any one, the ability to do any work requiring nicety in such obscurity. Yet, work of that kind was being done in the garret; for, with his back towards the door, and his face towards the window where the keeper of the wine-shop stood looking at him, a white-haired man sat on a low bench, stooping forward and very busy, making shoes.

[ythmir-writes]

Fictober21, Day 04

Prompt: Fine, I give up Fandom: Ikemen Vampire feat: Le Comte Audience: General, no warnings

“I thought Sebastian was exaggerating.”

Le Comte only barely caught Leonardo entering his private study, slipping in without sound into the room as only old vampires can do. Any other day, Le Comte would have acknowledged his fellow pureblood the moment Leonardo stepped into view, but at the moment he was too consumed by the task at hand.

He needed to finish placing the final gold leaves on the book before dinner service. And he still had two pages left.

“Never one to spare expense, eh?” Leonardo commented, fishing out a fresh roll of tobacco from his coat.

“Only the very best will do.”

“Real gold?” Leonardo’s tone was both a question and not.

“And why would I use anything else?” Le Comte chuckled.

Leonardo took a drag, stepped close enough without encroaching on the space, and watched Le Comte return to work.

It did not take a particularly skillful hand to dot a book’s pages with gold – but it did take a very patient one. One had to cut the leaf into miniscule strips, dab just the right amount of adhesive with an even tinier brush, and carefully dab them on the paper. Then, the glue had to be dried – a process which took hours depending on the size of the gold leaf – and then started again.

Le Comte had to admit though, during the first few pages, he thought he was a little bit out of his depth. When he had consulted with the local library about gilding a book, how long the process would take, and if an amateur – say a person who, without much skill but had a lot of time, who had never had any experience working with their hands, who suddenly and out of the blue decided they should do it – could do it, their answers had made it seem like an easy process.

Now, if an average person could do it, surely a vampire could too. Because a vampire could do a lot of things; particularly stubborn and determined vampires have been known to change the world, after all.

And while Le Comte knew that he could, on occasion, be stubborn, he did not really think of himself as determined. And definitely did not imagine himself as a combination of both. But he had given his word. Le Comte had promised their beloved a golden book. So a golden book, he will deliver.

Eventually, it had become meditative. The thought of their beloved’s smile when he would present the gift to her was more than enough motivation for him to forge on.

“What exactly did Sebastian say?” Le Comte asked after a while.

“That you were, and I quote, overdoing it.”

Le Comte felt both his brows rise, unsure whether Leonardo was being truthful or sarcastic. “Is it a little too much? Tell me, honestly.”

Leonardo gestured vaguely at the book. “You’re setting it in gold.”

“It’s their favorite book.” Le Comte looked back at the encyclopedia. “You know they’ve been talking about it non-stop since they came over.”

“I know that,” Leonardo chuckled. “And you’ve talked extensively about nothing else for a week when it was brought up. Could hardly get a word in with either of you. Even in bed.”

“So how – ?”

“But how are they going to read it if it’s looking like a national treasure?”

“Are you saying I should get two copies? Or three?” Le Comte considered the idea, remembering their beloved’s rule of three. He did not see the way Leonardo was already shaking his head in quiet laughter.

“All I’m saying is, you’ve already had the thing reprinted, bound in special leather, shipped over two oceans, and now your dabbing actual precious metal on every page.” Leonardo chuckled. “Is this not a little bit too much for an anniversary gift?”

Le Comte looked at him, genuinely confused.

“Fine. I give up.” Leonardo raised his hands. "I swear this will be a repeat of that again. They’re gonna take this to bed and I won’t have any good night kisses because they’re reading and it’s all your fault.”

It was Le Comte’s turn to laugh. “I am respectfully refusing to comment.” He looked at the time, saw enough had passed, and proceeded to cut another leaf. “Speaking of gifts, have you decided on what to give them?”

This time, Leonardo’s grin was tender. Le Comte knew that look too well on his friend. “A painting.”

“And you say I’m overdoing it?”

“Mine doesn’t cost half the mansion.”

“Oh, but it will.”

[shizuu-chann]

Let’s spread some positive vibes by remembering what we love about the trilogy. Fill in and tag your friends. Feel free to add your own categories to this survey.

tagged by @togepies, thanks again for including me!

Tagging with zero pressure: @nicolasadrabbles and @iheartgarrus

I’ve been a fan since: technically Andromeda, but I only played Andromeda first bc the LE was coming out in a few months. I loved the Dragon Age series before that, and I figured I would probably like ME, but the old graphics were a major turn-off for me. When the LE was announced, I got really excited bc it was another BioWare series I could binge and adore, but it wasn't out yet. My friend had just finished Andromeda and convinced me to try it, and now it's probably my favorite game series ever~

Favorite game of the series:  ME2! While I love ME3 because the graphics are beautiful, and you get more substance out of romantic relationships (Garrus, specifically), ME2 has my favorite vibe. You're kind of a rogue agent, assembling a team of the most dangerous and skilled people in the galaxy, and they all become a sort of found family for Shepard after the Alliance and the Council hang you out to dry. Plus, I love the interface for the game; the orange menu screen is easy on my eyes, and I like the clicky selection noises <3

MaleShep or FemShep?: FemShep <3 I love her so much. Played MaleShep once, and I loved him, too, but it really feels like FemShep is THE Shep to me.

Earthborn, Colonist or Spacer?: Colonist

Paragon or Renegade? Paragon (close to ParaGade, but not quite)

Biotics or Tech? Tech, but biotics are really cool.

Favorite class: Infiltrator! I don't really love any class in ME1, but ME2/3 make Infiltrator the fucking best. Tactical cloak and sniper rifle, my beloveds. Vanguard is a close second.

Favorite companions: Garrus, Zaeed, Mordin, Tali, Wrex, Grunt, EDI~

Least favorite companions: Kaidan and Jacob. I have nothing against either of them personally, honest, and I think they're generally good characters. But Kaidan bores me, I find him wholly uninteresting, and Jacob is just repackaged Kaidan, imho.

My squad selection: ME1: this changes every playthrough, honestly. Often it's Garrus and someone else, most recently Ashley. Others it's Ashley and someone else, most often Wrex. ME2: Usually Zaeed and Garrus; those two are my go-tos and my faves. Current run is Garrus and Miranda, but I've taken Grunt a fair bit. ME3 is, surprise-surprise, most often Garrus and someone else, but I try to tailor squad selection to each mission so I can get the most interesting story dialogue.

Favorite in-game romance: Shepard and Garrus <3

Other pairings I like: I cannot pair my Shep with anyone else, so it's difficult, but I do appreciate others. I like FemShep with Tali, Liara, Ashley, Miranda, and Jack (bc I just think all the characters should be bi, lol).

Favorite NPC: I'm choosing multiple--Aria T'Loak, Joker, I adore Hackett, and Anderson.

Favorite antagonist: The Illusive Man in ME2. Sure, you're cooperating with him, but he's definitely an antagonist.

Favorite mission: ME1: If we're talking purely vanilla game, probably Feros. Otherwise, maybe the Bring Down the Sky DLC. ME2: Thane's recruitment or the Suicide Mission, if we're excluding loyalty missions. ME3: Grissom Academy.

Favorite loyalty mission: Oooh, tough. I really like most of them. It's a toss-up between two, but for different reasons: either Garrus's or Samara's.

Favorite DLC: ME1: To my knowledge, there was only one for ME1, besides pinnacle Station, but that couldn't be added to the LE. ME2: Lair of the Shadow Broker--LOVE the level designs. ME3: Super original and revolutionary: the Citadel, lol. That's the canon ending in my mind. OH! But I also love the Omega DLC! Hmm...

Control, Synthesis or Destroy?: Destroy, but I also change a bunch of that ending in my mind, too. Namely, that EDI and the geth live and the Citadel isn't destroyed.

Favorite weapon: N7 Valiant sniper rifle <333

Favorite place: Omega or Illium

A quote I like: The whole exchange during Priority: Rannoch right before Shepard takes on a Reaper on foot. There's so many, many of them from Joker. But, for the sake of choosing: "This is why I love hanging out with you guys! Why shoot something once when you can shoot it 46 more times!" --Urdnot Wrex, 2186

[archived-zombbean]

How I Got Into Batman

So I got into Batman on accident. See my wife (then girlfriend) @she-a-nice had been BEGGING me to watch the show, play the game, etc. and I refused for the longest time (my loss I know right?).

Anyhow, we’re in game stop and she pulls out the “Batman Arkham Asylum” game, and she’s like, “Look! It’s on sale for $XX! If worse comes to worse it’s not like you’ll be wasting money! Just give it a try and if you don’t like it I’ll stop bothering you about it!”

So I caved. I bought the game, let out the most annoyed sigh (I was easily upset before I started my Bipolar meds, I regret how immature I used to be) and we went home. I pop the game in, let it download, and drank some tea while I waited. After it finished downloading, my adventure began.

Opening up to the Asylum, right away I’ll be honest- I hated batman. The only version I ever knew of him was BTAS and this version didn’t sit right with me. He was so mean and cruel that it just made me really upset. The joker reminded me of the one I did know a little bit about, so that wasn’t so bad (learned later it was the same actor so whoot!)

Saw sexy Harley Quinn, but hated her outfit so much. GOD I HATED THAT OUTFIT. WHAT WAS THE POINT? SHE DIDN’T LOOK LIKE A HARLEQUIN AT ALL???

Again, I went into this game with a sour attitude and I tried to hide it. My wife is sitting on the edge of her seat watching me play cause she was so excited to see the game. She had stars in her eyes. She didn’t play video games. She was afraid too and would much rather watch me play them instead. So I bit my lip and kept playing. Seeing her happy and enjoying the game meant more to me than all the things that was annoying me about the game. Admittedly... the combat was pretty good for it’s time, and after playing the absolute disaster combat of Assassin’s Creed 1, it was a nice change of pace.

I do remember being quite fond of Killer Croc’s design, and hoping I would see him again. I’ll get into that bit, a little later.

So I’m playing the game, and I get to the part where you just get to/ past the medical facility? It’s been a long time since I played so I can’t remember exactly where... but... that’s when my opinion of the game started to change. I’m in an elevator and I come out to see people going fucking batshit crazy in a sealed off room, and this gremlin of a bastard scurry in the background. I have no idea that this guy is about to become my favorite character.

My wife, knowing my favorite character archetype, just fucking grins as wide as she can. I love horror. Anything horror related, video games, movies, etc... it’s always been my favorite!

Mind you, I have no idea whom this character is or what he does, but the music turns unsettling and I can feel my pulse quicken. It has all the atmosphere of a horror game. Batman’s eyes are glowing red, and the beat of the music is still heavy in my ears. The voices are starting to echo, and there’s a buncha really silent hill like bullshit happening.

I go through the morgue scene and I’m just fucking... floored? When the fuck did this game decide to be a horror game??? Like?? I started to LOVE it.

My wife is now in a fit of giggles, and I’m like, “Why are you laughing you hate horror?”

She just grins, “Oh... you’ll see! I just know you’re gonna love it!”

Okay... sure. So I keep going.

Cue Batman unzipping the bag and this guy with a bag on his head that reminds me of el salvadore from fucking resident evil 4 pops up, and he’s just cackling like a motherfucking maniac. His voice is AMAZING. The ambiance is frightening. He’s got fucking NEEDLES on his hands (Trypanophobia? Yeah I know her. That’s my fear.)

“Who is this dude?” I ask my wife.

As the sequence ends for the nightmare world I see the words pop up on my screen:

Character Bio Unlocked- Scarecrow

“Who the fuck is scarecrow?” I’m lost. That was literally my favorite sequence so far.

My wife looks like the cat that caught the fucking canary, “That’s Jonathan Crane~ He’s the scarecrow and he’s the master of fear!”

Okay. So she’s fucking right. I fucking love this character. I keep playing. Dude’s gotta show up again right? I never actually kicked his ass...

So I keep playing the game and I see a few other small things that start to pique my interest. It’s not longer a chore trying to play the game. I’m genuinely interested. I’m waiting for this asshole with a paper bag on his head to pop up again.

Que me getting to the next portion of the game where this SOAB shows up. I’m literally grinning from ear to ear. Is the scene beforehand sad? Yeah a little. But I’ve heard the same damn sob story for batman by fans so much that honestly... I... kinda don’t care? It’s hard to feel bad when every movie with batman includes his parents dying.

I get through that portion and I eventually wind up at the third portion. I swear to fucking god I was SO SCARED when I thought my game restarted and I lost all my progress. Turns out it was another fucking game sequence. Touche Mr. Scarecrow, touche.... Long story short I got through that sequence and I’m floored by how good the game actually is. God my wife is so happy. It makes the experience all the better.

Did I mention she’s a hard core Riddler fan? Did I also forget to mention she’s the one that found all the- and I quote, “Shineys (Riddler Trophies)” and solved all his riddles? Cause I sure as fuck didn’t know the answers. Dude got super pissed every time she found something, and it was HILARIOUS.

I got to Croc’s section of the game, and I’ll admit I was a bit off put and sad to see him take Crane into the water and out of view. Knowing he’s a cannibal, I thought for sure that would be the last I ever saw of my fave (Imagine how excited I was for Arkham Knight, and how disappointed I was in the end? LE SIGH.) To be fair tho, Croc’s portion of the game had me sitting on the edge of my seat a lot since it was dead silent, and followed up with an orchestra of music when he popped up.

By the end of the whole game I was relatively happy. The story was pretty shitty, won’t lie, but the characters were enjoyable, the play style was fun, and I got to learn a lot about some characters! I even surprised my wife by saying I wanted to buy the next game in the series!

Lucky for me? That game had just come out a week prior. So of course I bought that bitch and binge played it for my sweet, and wonderful wife. Of course I also fell in love with another character- Mr. Freeze, and of course I still thank her for getting me into the series.

Sometimes she’ll tease me and talk about how I was so reluctant to try something new that she’d known I would enjoy, and ever since I’ve made sure to give series she’s suggested a chance!

[miserablesme]

The Les Miserables Changelog Part 7: 1987-1997 American variations

Hello, everyone! This is the latest edition in my attempt to chronicle all of the musical and lyrical changes which the show Les Miserables has undergone over the years. This time, we're going through the production-specific differences between the official 1987-1997 libretto and the US tour and Broadway productions of the era.

Compared to the West End production, American ones took far fewer liberties relative to what was in the libretto. For the most part, they stuck with what they were told to do. This makes the variations that did crop up all the more fascinating, and I think they are absolutely worthy of a post. Without further ado, let's get started!

Second National Tour

1988-1991

To the best of my knowledge, this is the first US production to feature any variation from the 1987 libretto. The only one I'm aware of: the original "Got a number on his chest" becomes "Got a brand upon his chest" prior to "The Attack of Rue Plumet". This would later be applied to other productions after the costumes were slightly tweaked so that Valjean now has a generic bar on his chest instead of the number "24601". Similarly, it seems as though this production may not have had the normal number for some reason?

Broadway and Third National Tour

Everything from this point downwards refers to these two productions, which seem to have been very much connected as they tended to make the same changes around the same times.

Circa 1988-1989 version

During the "On Parole" segment of the prologue, as Valjean takes his flight a voice can be heard shouting "Stop that man!" I suppose it makes sense that someone would send an alert about his presence, though it sort of distracts from Valjean's high note.

Much like the West End production at the time, these production changed the order of lines in "At the End of the Day". Usually the lines go as follows:

What is this fighting all about?

Will someone tear these two apart?

These productions instead put them in the following order during this timeframe:

Will someone tear these two apart?

What is this fighting all about?

I honestly have no clue what exactly is the purpose of swapping those two lines; nothing seems changed at all in spirit or meaning.

After "Red and Black", Gavroche now whistles prior to announcing General Lamarque's death.

That's literally it... everything else sticks to the libretto.

Circa 1989-1991 version

This is almost identical to the preceding version. One difference: a little joke has been added to the "Waltz of Treachery". Instead of just singing "Let's not haggle for darling Cosette", Thenardier pauses for quite some time, singing: "Let's not haggle for darling... Cosette".

Circa 1991-1994 version

"At the End of the Day" is now in its official format. However, the "Stop that man" line, Gavroche's whistle, and Thenardier's forgetfulness are all still present.

Circa 1993-1994

This variant was only used on Broadway, seemingly not the US tour. It is very close to the 1991-1994 version, with a few differences.

The first difference, which draws on the 1992 UK tour and then-current West End variations, can be heard in "The Runaway Cart". Officially these were the lyrics spoken by townspeople:

Look at that

Look at that

It's Monsieur Fauchelevent

Don't approach

Don't go near

At the risk of your life

He is caught by the wheel

Oh the pitiful man

Stay away

Turn away

There is nothing to do

There is nothing to do

This was the UK tour variant:

Look at that

Stay away

You'll be crushed by the cart

Don't approach

Don't go near

It'll fall on you too

Oh my god, who is that?

It's Monsieur Fauchelevent

He is caught by the wheel

Oh the pitiful man

There is nothing to do

The US productions at this point almost used those lyrics:

Look at that

Stay away

You'll be crushed by the cart

Don't approach

Don't go near

At the risk of your life

Oh my god, who is that?

It's Monsieur Fauchelevent

He is caught by the wheel

Oh the pitiful man

There is nothing to do

Interestingly, the lyrics are identical to their revised form except that the original "At the risk of your life" is maintained instead of "It'll fall on you too". Perhaps the producers thought the scene was more suspenseful without a rhyme scheme?

Regardless, the remainder of the number plays out as was in the libretto, not using the UK tour and West End variants.

Now, prior to "Red and Black" the little sting introduced in the UK tour (and soon added to foreign language productions) is also audible in the Broadway show. To quote myself from Part 5 of this blog:

"If I’m not mistaken, this musical addition was placed in to account for a change in staging. Originally the number began with the barricade set sliding off-stage, revealing the ABC cafe set behind it. However, around the time of this tour the blocking was adjusted. Now, the turntable instead revolved at the beginning of this number, revealing the ABC cafe set on the other end of the turntable and allowing the barricade set to double as the walls of the cafe. I believe the opening sting was added to allow time for this slightly more elaborate staging."

Gavroche no longer whistles before announcing General Lamarque's death.

Circa 1994-1997 version

Used in both the tour and on Broadway, this version is the first time the US tour production actually diverges from the libretto to a significant extent. It uses the changes added in Broadway in 1993, along with some others.

The "Stop that man" line is still present in the prologue.

The 1993-1994 version of "The Runaway Cart" is still used.

Thenardier continues to forget Cosette's name during the "Waltz of Treachery".

The sting before "Red and Black" continues to play.

Calling on the UK tour and West End production, after "Night of Anguish" the instrumental "Drink with Me" tune has been removed. In its place, instrumentals of "A Little Fall of Rain" have been put in, as they already had been in the UK tour and the West End production.

Everything goes as expected right up until the epilogue. The official "And lead me to salvation" was replaced with "I'll lead you to salvation", which had already been used in the Australian and UK tours.

Circa 1997 version

This version (which was seemingly only used for a few months, if even that long) is almost identical to the previous one, with one significant difference. Drawing on the UK tour and the West End production, a sequence in "Lovely Ladies" was totally redone. Instead of the official libretto scene between sailors and prostitutes:

(SAILORS - simultaneously with prostitutes' lines)

Lovely lady, fastest on the street

Wasn't there three minutes

She was back up on her feet

Lovely lady, what you waiting for

Doesn't take a lot of savvy just to be a whore

Come on lady, what's a lady for?

(PROSTITUTES - simultaneously with sailors' lines)

Lovely ladies, lovely little girls

Lovely ladies, lovely little ladies

Lovely girlies, lovely little girls

We are lovely, lovely girls

Lovely ladies, what's a lady for?

There's this exchange between a prostitute and a pimp:

(PROSTITUTE)

God I'm weary, sick enough to drop

Belly burns like fire

Will the bleeding ever stop?

(PIMP)

Cheer up dearie, show a happy face

Plenty more like you here

If you can't keep up the pace

(PROSTITUTE)

Only joking, dearie knows her place

Side note: I only have evidence of this variant being used on the Broadway show, from January 1997. I have no idea if it was ever used in the US tour; the latest audio of the tour pre-official libretto change that I have is from December 1996, and it still uses the original lyrics.

And... that's it. See what I mean when I say the American productions didn't diverge that much from the libretto?

That just about sums this part up! If I missed anything feel free to let me know, as my goal is to create a changelog as thorough and complete as possible. I plan on making more parts in the near future covering all the changes that have been made in the show up until this day (discounting concerts). Any feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated.

As a side note, both for this project and my own enjoyment, I want as complete a collection of Les Miserables audios as possible. I already have most of what’s commonly circulated, but if you have any audios or videos you know are rare, I’d love it if you DMed me!

Until the turntable puts me at the forefront again, good-bye…

[fremedon]

Brickclub I.5.13, “Resolving Some Questions of Municipal Policing”

“Curiosity is a form of gluttony," Hugo says, of the onlookers trying to peer through the station house door. "To see is to devour."

This is the most direct statement of a theme Hugo comes back to over and over--the destructive power of gossip and idle curiosity. It's a theme that pulls a lot of weight, but starting on this reread so soon after my last one, one thing I'm wondering is how much that theme is supposed to be setting us up to excuse Marius's lack of inquiry into the version of his history Valjean shares.

Observations on Fantine:

--Fantine, a panther during the fight, now cowers "like a frightened dog" in the station. I think the panther line might be the only feline metaphor Fantine gets. 

--"She would have softened a heart of granite, but you cannot soften a heart of wood." Fantine has been turning herself to stone for the last few chapters, but there are worse things to be.

--And one of those is to become even stonier. In her last monologue, right before she attempts to leave: "Oh! I won't do it again, Monsieur Javert! Whatever anyone does to me now, I won't react in any way." 

--Fantine's two long monologues keep coming back to two points: The injustice of prison wages, both to the prisoners and their competitors, and her ability to be respectable when given the means to support herself. She used to have so many changes of underwear, and now she just has one silk dress for the evenings. She still owes 100 francs to the Thenardiers, but she's up to date on her rent now, just ask her landlord. And at the end, Madeleine agrees with this: "I will give you all the money you need. You shall again become honest in again becoming happy." 

We've seen, and will continue to see, how the lack of means bars access to 'honesty'/respectability, but the reverse of that statement is surprisingly hopeful: only provide the means to live honestly, and a person will be honest. 

--Madeleine and Javert's battle for Fantine's liberty is framed almost exactly like the battle for Valjean's soul between his convict self and the bishop in "Petit-Gervais," and Fantine's heart softening back to trust is a much more direct parallel of Valjean's change of heart than I had realized. Valjean never manages to reach Javert this way, but he does pull Fantine back to humanity for her final weeks.

There is one major difference, though, and it’s not actually in the level of their transgressions. Fantine has spit in the face of the mayor in the place of his power; Valjean has stolen a sentimental treasure from his host, in the home where he was given shelter. Both insults are a thing that can be absorbed or shrugged off, practically, but with immense symbolic weight behind them. 

But Valjean’s reverie ends with him obliterating the convict within him and letting the bishop take full possession of his soul. Fantine keeps hers. She doesn’t have to go through any of Valjean’s extreme self-abnegation to get her humanity back. 

And speaking of extreme self-abnegation, there’s Javert. This got long. 

Javert, despite being wood and not stone, is the one who gets the statue imagery in this scene. From the moment right before he stops Fantine from leaving, after Madeleine instructs that she be freed: "Up to that moment Javert had stood stock still, staring at the ground, out of place in the midst of this scene like some statue left in the way, waiting to be put somewhere." I am reminded of the cart in Montfermeil--the broken cart that is a metaphor for outmoded institutions, left in the way to finish decaying. Javert, the automaton of the law, is left in the way, waiting for a purpose.  

Twice in this scene, we see him imagine himself an empty vessel for the law. It’s the only kind of grandiosity he ever has--humbleness to the point of self-obliteration, so he can embody The Law. 

The first is while he is first handing down Fantine’s sentence, and I’m going to quote at length: 

"It was one of those moments in which he exercised without restraint, but with all the scruples of a strict conscience, his formidable discretionary power. At this moment he felt that his policeman's stool was a bench of justice. He was conducting a trial. He was trying and condemning. He called all the ideas of which his mind was capable around the grand thing that he was doing. The more he examined the conduct of this girl, the more he revolted at it. It was clear that he had seen a crime committed. He had seen, there in the street, society, represented by a property holder and an elector, insulted and attacked by a creature who was an outlaw and an outcast. A prostitute had assaulted a citizen. He, Javert, had seen that himself. He wrote in silence." (Wilbour)

And the second is after Madeleine intervenes to demand Fantine’s liberty a second time: 

"It was obvious that Javert must have been 'thrown out of kilter,' as they say, to allow himself to address the sergeant the way he did after the mayor's request that Fantine should be set free. Could he have forgotten monsieur le maire's presence? Had he in the end convinced himself it was impossible that any authority could have given such an order, and that surely monsieur le maire must have said one thing instead of another without meaning to? Or in view of the outrages he had witnessed over the past two hours, did he tell himself it was necessary to act with the utmost resolve, that the humble must assume greatness, the sleuth must turn himself into a judge, the police agent must become an agent of justice, and that in this exceptional extremity he, Javert, was the personification of law, order, morality, government, the whole of society?" (Donougher)

Hoooo boy. There is just so much to unpack here, and I’m glad we have another year and change of brickclub to keep unpacking it. 

Just on the surface: Law, order, morality, government, and society are all the same thing to Javert. The purpose of law is to uphold the social order. It is a contradiction in terms that authority should seek to undermine itself: 

"Javert felt he was about to go mad. At that moment he underwent in rapid succession and almost all at once the most violent emotions he had ever experienced in his life. To see a common prostitute spit in the face of a mayor--this was something so monstrous that in his most dreadful imaginings he would have regarded it as sacrilege to believe it were possible. On the other hand, obscurely, at the back of his mind, he made a hideous comparison between what this woman was and what this mayor might be, and then he had an inkling of something very simple about this extraordinary attack that appalled him. But when he saw this mayor, this magistrate, calmly wipe his face and say, 'Set this woman free,' he was stunned, thoughts and words failed him equally. His capacity for astonishment was exceeded. He remained speechless." (Donougher)

Refusing to punish this transgression against established hierarchies undercuts Madeleine’s legitimacy in his head so much that he takes it upon himself to contradict the mayor, to argue with him, to put forward his abstract embodied Authority as more valid than the mayor’s actual authority. Madeleine only wins by literally citing the legal code, in a scene that reads almost like a battle between wizards. 

Going back to Fantine’s attempted departure--"The sound of the latch roused him. He raised his head with an expression of supreme authority, an expression that is always the more frightening the lower the level at which power is invested, ferocious in the wild beast, atrocious in the man of no account." Wilbour says "in the undeveloped man"; I prefer Donougher here, because it gets the ambiguity in "the lower the level at which power is invested"--both that power is frightening in the hands of beings who cannot, personally, wield it well,  but also that small concentrations of unaccountable power create petty tyrannies. 

Javert knows he is a small man who, on his own merits, neither possesses nor deserves power over others. But he is a small man channeling the whole of social authority, and that makes him terrifying. 

If what he were channeling was actually Justice, it would also make him--well, it would make him Enjolras. But it’s not. I talked a couple of chapters ago about the themes I’m starting to think of as Hugo’s major arcana, and one of the big ones is Fatalite. He brings it up in the very first sentence of the prologue: 

“So long as there shall exists, by reason of law and custom, a social condemnation which, in the face of civilization, artificially creates hells on earth, and complicates with human fatalite a destiny that is divine...”  

The divine destiny--the intention of Providence--seems to be whatever humanity is capable of achieving. Fatalite is whatever human-made factors interfere with that achievement: Social condemnation. Custom. And Law. It’s all fatalite.  

The more Javert imagines himself an empty vessel for the law, the more self-abnegating he is in his duty, the worse he is, because what he is channeling is the force that creates hells on earth. 

He has lost this purity in Paris, and to some extent that accompanies real tolerance of corruption--this Javert would have resigned rather than serve with men he knows are taking bribes and enabling double agents like Le Cabuc. But this Javert would also never have casually granted Bigrenaille's request for tobacco in solitary. And I’m not sure this Javert would have noticed the grievances in his suicide memo--certainly, he doesn’t respond at all to Fantine’s repeated refrain about the prison wages. 

I really like @everyonewasabird's idea that Javert, in frightening Fantine to death--in taking an innocent life, one he has no claim over--Javert will break a geas. He loses the ability to be this empty vessel, and is muddling through on his own instincts and prejudices after that--and his own instincts and prejudices are terrible, make no mistake. But they’re malleable, in a way that the whole force of abstract social condemnation isn’t.

And also, god, now I’m thinking about Valjean standing there listening to Fantine talk about the unfairness of prison wages. What must be going through his head.