Stonewall Riots, June 28, 1969 (and following days)
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why the fuck isn’t tumblr going batshit crazy about what’s happening in syria
approx. 640 people have died, mostly children, in a nerve gas attack and i don’t see shit about it
article, because people need to know about this, it’s horrible
Thank you so much I have family members dying there
LITERATURE MEME | 10 works of prose - (9) a clockwork orange by anthony burgess
Is it better for a man to have chosen evil than to have good imposed upon him?
#six shades of underappreciated badass #she just does constantly awesome shit that’s mostly overlooked #holding a condom up to her aunt and father so they wouldn’t be rude to scott #calming herself down after seeing a goddamn werewolf (which was one of the best moments in the entire show) #standing her ground against a lizard monster that she’s never seen before #USING THE KANIMA VENOM TO DEFEAT A WEREWOLF WHO WAS TRYING TO KILL HER BEST FRIEND #knocking her stalker to the goddamn ground after he tried to grab her #and surviving an abusive home environment despite being cut off from her only real source of emotional support #allison fucking argent #you are incredible
modern day greek mythology → the sirens as a girl gang of serial killers (1/2)
they tear the pavement with chrome horses, screeching tires and noxious fumes; stomping about in thug boots. they sing for their supper, in more ways than one. luring men to their doom, bullets to the brain, hacking limbs, garroting, disembowelment, decapitation. they are virtuosos in their art. bones crack between jaws. crunching, crunching, crunching. sometimes they snap them in half to suck out the marrow. they fill themselves to bursting, leaving heaps of corpses in flower starred meadowes.
PARENTS WHO THINK THEY CAN FULLY CONTROL THEIR CHILD’S LIFE MAKE ME WANT TO PUNCH PEOPLE
i have this headcanon that courfeyrac loves to use bad puns because he knows they irritate the shit out of everyone and one day he tells bahorel that something is bahorrible and ends up with a broken nose
i will fucking murder any guy who ‘asks out a girl as a dare’ do you know how painful that is oh well you don’t you will when i fucking gut out your insides thank you v much
Montparnasse
fashion plate, criminal, assassinNo one is quite certain what Montparnasse does with his time. It’s assumed that he attends classes, though it’s a rare event to see him on campus outside of the dorms or the library. Likewise, it’s uncertain how he pays for the classes that he, at least in theory, attends, since he seems to have no job and never speaks of a family that supports him.
Still, he’s always impeccably dressed, and Grantaire can attest, from the year they shared a room, that Montparnasse’s closet is both extensive and expensive.
When not on campus, which is much of the time, Montparnasse spends his time in shady bars and shadier warehouses, talking with people who tend to avoid cameras and shield their faces when a police car drives by. Many of them are afraid of him, this slim, short young man with steady blue eyes who keeps a collection of elegant, deadly switchblades.
They’re right to be.
Montparnasse modeled himself, when he was young and homeless, off of Moriarty, but vowed to himself that he would never be so stupid as to play with any Sherlock Holmes that came his way. He does not intend to die as ignominiously as that fictional professor. He intends to live for a very long time and to become very wealthy.
He’s quite well on his way towards the latter.
Montparnasse, in addtion to his less-than-legal lifestyle choices, loves to collect beautiful things. It doesn’t matter what it is, a flawed gemstone carved to make the most of the imperfection, a painting in a museum, a sculpture in the middle of town, he covets and he takes it.
Perhaps the only thing he considers beautiful that Montparnasse has not made his own is Grantaire, because Grantaire would ruin himself if Montparnasse took him. And even estimating the costs to hold a greyling against his will is dizzying.
Besides, it’s so much more satisfying to watch Grantaire wind himself tighter and tighter, over laws that are passed and repealed, over the blond activist, over his own nature. Every time, Grantaire seeks him out, and that is a joy Montparnasse will not pass up in order to own the artist. Simply watching Grantaire step into the ring and let go of that control everyone mistakes for surliness is a joy, and Montparnasse treasures each memory of Grantaire’s bared-teeth grin and the savage fluidity of the fight.
It’s best when the human part of Grantaire vanishes under the pure fury of genetics, and Montparnasse never minds having to dispose of a few bodies for the pleasure of watching Grantaire kill, and washing those long-fingered hands hands clean of blood after.
Other Characters:
[Grantaire] [Jehan] [Musichetta] [Marius] [Eponine] [Bahorel] [Gavroche] [Courfeyrac]
look, i get that people like writing about les amis as a contemporary radical activist group, but i’ve seen a lot of stuff that… doesn’t really reflect the reality of protest in virtually every country in the world, and certainly in basically every western democracy. at a protest today enjolras would have to beg the local institutions of power for permission to march up a public street, and he would be held responsible for any diversion from the plan he submitted. if his friends and followers were kettled and terrorised by riot police, he’d be told in no uncertain terms that this was his fault. les amis would have to hole up in someone’s flat beforehand and duct-tape and stuff cardboard inside of their jackets, in advance preparation for the inevitable police violence to come. they’d have to write the phone numbers of lawyers on their arms in magic marker and combeferre would have to check that everyone knows not to tell the police a single thing, to always ask for a lawyer, and then shut up.
enjolras would have to give his speeches with bahorel and feuilly standing on either side of him with their arms folded and their faces set, would have to march with jehan and courferyac pushing forward as his vanguard. les amis would have to surround enjolras like a tidal wave, in case the police got any bright ideas about cutting off the serpent’s head in order to make the body flail and panic and die. if and when the violence started — violence enjolras probably would not have wanted, because violence is used to re-write the history of contemporary resistance all of the time — courferyac and graintaire would have to pay in bruises to distract the cop bearing down on combeferre so it would be definite that someone would be left in the morning to post bail. joly would have to bring medical supplies in his bag with the full expectation of using them, because kettles can go on for hours and you never guarantee that even someone bleeding enough to lose their life will be allowed to leave.
when the cops come for enjolras, he’d kneel and put his hands behind his head and not say a thing, not when they kicked at the backs of his ankles or slammed him against a cop car or pulled his head back by his hair to hiss his rights into his ear. he’s a leader, and he’d know the value of a slit through his eyebrow in the press tomorrow. he’d know that this beating was coming whatever he did, but bruises in the dock in the morning make his argument for him. courferyac would, again, be the one dragged out of the crowd with his lip split and grantaire gripping tight around his wrist in vain, so combeferre could try and desperately usher away teenagers from riot shields, so joly could try and stem the bleeding of a thirteen year old girl’s head-wound, so bahorel could help jehan carry feuilly away without putting too much pressure on the point where his ribs had cracked. no one would hit a cop. if you hit a cop, a cop can do whatever they like to you, and every single member of les amis would have seen that happen with their own eyes.
the reality remains that there is virtually no such thing as a peaceful protest, because it is to the advantage of those in power to ensure that there’s not. the reality remains that there is nothing glamorous about a riot, and that enjolras would be taking his friends’ lives in his hands with reckless abandon if he thought there was. in a sense he’d be happy if he was the only person arrested, that combeferre would have to come for him in the cold light of morning and pick him up from the police station steps and drive him to the hospital, dirt under enjolras’s fingernails and blood crusted in his hair.
he’d have spent a night cold and maybe alone and maybe sitting in an interrogation room for hours staring at bare walls and having cops yell questions in his face that he couldn’t risk answering. he’d be exhausted and sore and on the verge of total-shut down. every single protest he led, he’d have to know that this would be how it could end for him— if not something much worse. protest is dangerous. riots aren’t fun. les amis would be covered in battle scars. they would spend weeks showered in bruises and knowing that they would have more to come. in the 21st century, protesters still build barricades. in fact, they do so relatively regularly. it’s just a thought, but you might want to think about why.
do you hear the people sing?
lost in the valley of the night
it is the music of a people
who are climbing to the light
