AN OPPORTUNITY TO TALK ABOUT FEUILLY! thank you friend 😀
so. he’s a complete nerd. like, he really is. His Brick description is not so much a list of personality traits as a list of special interests. That, actually, says a lot about his personality. He’s passionate, and enthusiastic, and a giant nerd.
kind of awkward too? he’s pretty confident about his knowledge of said interests, but he talks about them – all the time. even when it’s not really related to the subject at hand. He rants whenever someone – willingly or not – gives him the opportunity to. he gets so offended on the behalf of others and injustices and betrayal. every single time. Bless him.
He considers his own education as a way to deliver himself. He learned to read and write by himself, and while this would be impressive about anyone, but it’s even more knowing what we do about Feuilly’s background. He probably started working/apprenticeship really young, because the orphanage or wherever he was staying wouldn’t – couldn’t – have kept him on forever. But he still taught himself to read, seeing it as a mean to rise up beyond his circumstances. That’s more than hard work – that’s hope and ambition and dedication and desparation all blended together.
and he never loses that? it’s liked to his passion, really – he knows he/the world can be better, and he holds on to that, always strives towards that, even though his life must have been really difficult sometimes.
honestly he’s like the opposite of Grantaire in many ways – he has every reason in the world to be bitter and cynical, but he’s not. he’s so passionate (I’ve said it like three times oops) and he’s so. trusting? like. even more than Combeferre, who wasn’t surprised when the generals didn’t come to their aid. Feuilly was genuinely heartbroken over it, like – you’d have totally expected him to know that these higher-ups would have let them down like they’ve let them all down before, and he’s been let down a lot in his life, but he didn’t. whether he’s instinctively trusting or makes himself trust because he refuses to be bitter is a matter of interpretation, but. that’s really something.
it’s one of the reasons I picture him as a bit younger than most of the fandom does, really, because 1) being a worker in the 1820s/1830s (or today really) doesn’t at all mean that he has to be older than students, especially if it’s such a big deal that he never got to go to school in the first place, and 2) that idealism and trust and enthusiasm sentimental aspect of his personality just seems different than the sort of laid-back experience of the older members like Bahorel and Bossuet, idk.
oh man this is already so long why.
I haven’t even gotten to fanon/improvised traits I like to give him.
he’s just. a cutie. okay I’ll try to find other posts I’ve written about this before and reblog them.
my gripes about the way Feuilly is portrayed in fandom is usually when two (often related) things happen: his canon personality gets replaced by a bunch of classist cliches, like grumpy, swearing, fighting, macho, rude, close-minded etc, or when he becomes a sort of Bahorel-lite, with fighting, drinking, swearing, loud, and always mentionned as part of ‘BahorelandFeuilly’, never as an individual person (I dislike Bahorel’s characterisation in that too, but he usually is at least a little better? closer to his actual personality? anyway)
besides these two frankly terrible trends, I think, as with every character in this fandom, we have some leeway when it comes to personality traits. We have the descriptions in the book, which are frankly both precise and vague at the same time it’s kind of beautiful, as well as the way they’re played in the musical, different movies/shows/etc. so. my take on characters is not more valid than any other that’s done with, you know, some thoughts and consideration for the material and implications.
A soulmate doesn’t always mean a lover. Sure, that’s how the romances go in the movies – revelations of matching soulmarks, followed by candlelit sex scenes – but real life is more complex than that. Plenty of twin sisters are born with matching marks. Sometimes, a mother gives birth to a baby who’s carrying her identical mark, and that mother and child will grow up each other’s best friend. Artists find their muses, and business executives find their right-hand-men, in their soulmates. It’s platonic just as often as it’s romantic. Torrid romances with soulmates can end – though, of course, lasting friendships usually form in their wake – and happy, successful marriages can be forged and maintained in the absence of matching marks.
Ransom’s parents, realists and pragmatists that they are, have drummed that into his head. “Don’t take it as a sign of destiny,” they tell him. “It’s a biological process, but like most biological processes, we’ve found ways to overcome it.” When Ransom – then young Justin – asks what that means, and aren’t they mated, they join hands and nod and sigh. “It’s like this, honey,” his mom explains. “It’s easiest to remain physically close to your soulmate after you meet. But there are other ways around it, too. Many soulmates manage by just emailing each other a few times a week. They keep their mental synch that way. And even if you don’t – most people are okay.”
“They call those people detached,” Justin says. “Someone says Mrs. North is detached and that’s why she’s such a grump.”
“That’s a myth,” his father says. “The great majority of people can handle being detached, just like we can handle all the other stresses in our lives. You may not be as strong or as smart as you would be with a soulmate, but that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you. Some people do have a hard time, but most detached folks are just like you and me. They’re not the people they would have been, but we’ve all got things about us that are less than perfect.”
“It’s stupid,” Justin says. “Why would God make us like that? Why do we need someone else to be the best we can be?”
“A lot of things life deals us are stupid,” his mother says with her characteristic sunny laugh. “The best we can do is to figure out how to deal with them.”
Justin goes on thinking the whole concept is bullshit. He gets into science, medicine and biology, trying to figure out what on earth is the point of soul mating. He never really gets an answer on that front. What he does discover is the detachment studies – the emerging art and science of helping those who, for whatever reason, have met their soulmates but now have to live without them. He decides he wants to go to medical school, create a practice built around helping the detached live their lives as fully and happily as possible.
All the while, the thought of his soulmate never really crosses his mind. If he meets them, he meets them. He’ll go from there.
-Cross-posting this on my main blog @ani-mage -Reblogs are appreciated, because I’m very new to the omgcp fandom!
The fandom for @ngoziu’s @omgcheckplease webcomic (which you can start reading here) gets an A+ for representation of asexual characters. For such a young fandom, it’s awesome how many fics feature an ace protagonist. For any reader who’s sex repulsed, I will warn that several of these fics do contain explicit sex. The characters in most of these stories can best be described as identifying as demisexual or gray ace, and interestingly it is most often Jack Zimmermann who is ace (but perhaps that’s based on the fact that most omgcp fic is Zimbits?). For anyone who’s interested, I talked a little bit more about ace Jack in this rec list. Please pass on to me any other omgcp fics or tumblr writings with ace characters!
Zimbits Fics
A Little Bit Closer by @marswithghosts NC-17, 107,963 words Summary Eric Bittle’s To-Do List: 1.) Frame Masters in Library and Information Science diploma and send to Mama, because she never understood the lack of sleep and abuse of caffeine, but she sent cookbooks and money for good chocolate, bless her. 2.) Throw away every last highlighted article, graded paper, and syllabus, because they are no longer needed, thank the sweet Lord. 3.) Promote the library’s new periodic reading series, because it wasn’t the capstone project for nothing. 4.) Harass Boston Bruins star Jack Zimmermann into taking a picture for @BPLWestEnd to promote the reading of his new children’s book, Jacky’s Bad Days. 5.) Do not ogle Boston Bruins star Jack Zimmermann’s ass. 6.) Fail step five. Repeatedly.
Being in Motion by @marswithghosts NC-17, 53,988 words Summary: Watching a college boy jerk off online for money is not what Jack Zimmermann ever saw himself doing. Getting to know that boy is something he expected even less.
Mixing It Up by sinspiration ( @justwritins ) Mature, 40869 words Summary: Eric Bittle, of Bitty’s Bakery, is very excited to have been chosen as a contestant for the Food Network Challenge. He’s even more excited to find out that he’s making a cake for the NHL new-Cup winners, the Falconers.
with grace in your heart by @iridescentoracle (heterodyne_girl) and @jenesaispourquoi (mutuisanimis) PG-13, 108937 and counting (WIP but they do update!) When Kent Parson shows up at Epikegster 2014, he doesn’t mess up Jack and Bitty’s relationship, but it is a turning point.
“Cheiloproclitic” by akadiene ( @fatlardo ) PG-13, 1210 words Summary: Cheiloproclitic – Being attracted to someones lips. Jack really likes kissing.
“it’s my sweet beginning” (you need an ao3 account to read) by nighimpossible ( @saader ) PG-13, 4423 words Summary: “You’re a goddamn hockey robot, Zimms,” Kent tells him one night, and Jack shrugs, because even if it’s not exactly right, it’s easier than the truth.
“Best Laid Plans” by Euphorion ( @flightlesscrowkids ) NC-17, 18596 words Summary: “Dude,” said Holster, his eyes huge, “that’s so sad. We gotta get them together.” “This isn’t a romcom, Holtzy, ” Ransom said, patting his arm. “I’m sure that’s not what Shitty had in mind.” “Actually,” said Shitty, “that’s exactly what I had in mind. And I’ve got a plan.” [I’m putting this under Zimbits bc the focus of the fic is getting them together, but it’s also got Shitty/Lardo and Holsom. Ransom is the asexual character, but he also speculates at one point that Jack is ace. It’s never confirmed whether Jack is one the ace spectrum, but I think you can read him as gray ace. See below for a the story told from Ransom’s pov]
Holsom (Ransom/Holster)
“Things Holster Likes” by Euphorion ( @flightlesscrowkids ) PG-13, 12154 words Summary: The thing about Ransom was, he wasn’t gay for his best friend. [companion piece to “Best Laid Plans” rec’d above]
Dex/Nursey
“love you as the plant that never blooms” by @horchatita and @wishingonalightningbolt NC-17, 27, 241 words Summary: Dex doesn’t roll his eyes, but only because he’s overwhelmed with the thought that he really does have feelings for Nursey. Gooey feelings. Romantic ones. They see each other every day; they’ve been close, there’s been touching, and maybe—maybe it’s not quite as platonic as Dex assumed it was. From watching Ransom and Holster, anyone could get the idea that that’s just what friends do. But… It feels different. “I like him,” he says, soft, contemplative. “I like when he’s around and it’s frustrating to watch him go. It’s horrible to think he might be upset at me, or that he thinks I lied to him. It’s killing me.” -0- Dex doesn’t know what it is to want. With Nursey, he learns.
“The Pulse I Offer” by @jalules PG-13, 5596 words Summary: Derek Nurse is quite suddenly struck with inspiration.
And I could tell you, his favourite colour’s green, He likes to argue. Born on the seventeenth.
“Must you put him down like that all the time?” hisses Courfeyrac in his ear as the rest of the room around them finally starts to turn up the volume again. Only one corner remains quiet, and Enjolras’ eyes quickly find its inhabitant, a familiar rush of guilt pooling in his chest. He pushes it away and clears his throat.
“If he insists on causing a disruption, yes.” he says quietly to his friend, “And I would do the same to any of you,” Courfeyrac scoffs at that. “I’m sure,” He says, not sounding at all like he believes it, “Enjolras, I know you don’t consider him a friend, the way you do the rest of us, but that’s not an excuse for…” “Who says I do not consider him a friend?” He snaps, a little too loud, causing Joly and Combeferre to look up from their conversation; though thankfully the object of their discussion does not appear to have heard. “I…” he begins again, quieter, “I have never said…” “Do you even know the first thing about him?” Courfeyrac asks. More than you know, he thinks, but he says nothing, keeps his face impassive; that box once opened cannot be closed again. “Enjolras what’s my favourite colour?” “Burgundy,” he supplies readily. “Combeferre’s?” “Teal,” “And what languages does Jehan speak?” “Latin, Italian, Greek and Hebrew,” “And in what direction does the foot of Joly’s bed face?” “To the north,” he says, again with ease, already tiring of the questions. “And what is Grantaire’s favourite colour?” Green, any shade, his mind supplies promptly, but he says nothing. “His hobbies?” still nothing, “What family does he have? Where does he live? What is his birth date?” Nothing, nothing, nothing. Better to seem to know too little than too much, he tells himself, though his fist clenches slightly at his side. Courfeyrac shrugs his shoulders at this lack of response, as if to rest his case, and goes to sit beside Combeferre; leaving Enjolras alone with his thoughts and a view of Grantaire, bent over his empty bottle, in the very corner of his eye.
It is strange to see him silent. Even when Enjolras has been particularly sharp with him, he is usually recovered within minutes and running off at the mouth again. Some days he waxes lyrical on art or Paris, others see him discussing history or politics or philosophy, always with his usual skepticism still others are dedicated to his ‘conquests’ or the merits of one cafe or another; and then, occasionally there are the days he speaks of his own life. Courfeyrac, and all of the others really, do not believe he listens on those days.
Grantaire lets out a long sigh.
Your favourite colour is green, Enjolras thinks again, you are an artist; when you want to be at least. You also box, fence, dance and practice short-stick. You sing too, loudly and terribly for an audience, but softly, beautifully and gently when you think nobody is listening anymore. You profess loudly that you are ignorant and stupid and know nothing, but you can speak on any subject under the sun with authority. You debate a lot, not just with me, and you do it well, but you don’t always believe in your own points; you just like to argue I think. Your birth date is the seventeenth of May, but you told everyone it was in November and I wish I could ask you why you lied. You live just a few streets away from the Musain, and you have a box outside your window in which you keep flowers Jehan brought you cuttings of. You have a living mother, and a sister whom you adore and are never lacking in praise for. You hated your father for the cruelty he put your mother through before he died. You hate your eyes, because your mother says they look like his. I do not believe it. There is too much softness and kindness in them. People call you ugly, and I think it bothers you more than you let on, but you always have a kind word for them, and you laugh the name off. You allow your hair to grow, because one of the serving girls in the cafe’s front room once complimented its curls. You’ve had your nose broken during boxing, and more than once in bar fights. You have dark circles under your eyes, because you find it difficult to sleep except when you have consumed so much alcohol your body simply shuts down. You think, as everyone does, that I disdain you, that I hate you. I disdain alcohol, and I hate what it has done to you. You do not know that each time you pass out on a table, I worry you will not rise from it again. Each time you do I am overwhelmed with relief, but each time you do so ready to tear me down, to laugh at my beliefs. You do not believe in anything, and you seem to live only to mock me, lending your intelligence and kindness to all our friends, and saving only your bitterness for the idealist, the one leading your friends to what you think is their doom, the man so opposite to you in every way. I who embody everything you must surely hate.
He’s athletic (because Bitty likes them that way, refer to Ransom’s Excel sheet on dudes Bitty has dated, made out with, hooked with)
He’s tall and bigger than Bitty (that’s not hard, but Bitty has been seen wearing bigger shirts lately)
He’s an old Samwell student (Dex hard heard Bitty say “Oh honey, remember the Quad? They added new trees, they’re lovely-” over the phone)
He’s handsome and was featured in The Swallow’s most beautiful people (Overheard by Nursey- ”Well, is that award more important than your face on The Swallow’s list of most beautiful people? Because I KNOW your mom has it framed on your trophy shelf.”)
He’s an OLD MEMBER OF THE SMH TEAM OMG (BECAUSE ONE OF THE OVERSIZED SHIRTS BITTY WEARS TO SLEEP IS A RATTY SMH ONE OMG OMG OMG)
HE ACTUALLY LIVED IN THE HAUS WHAT IS THIS I CAN’T BREATHE (Overheard by Chowder- “Ransom and Holster are making the frogs work for dibs- not like you, love, you gave your dibs in a very noble way-” Chowder would not stop !!!! while handing that information)
HIS NAME STARTS WITH A J (AS SEEN ON BITTY’S PHONE NEXT TO AT LEAST THREE HEART EMOJIS OMG OMG OMG)
Ergo: Bitty’s secret Boyfriend is John Johnson the Goalie.
Ransom: OH MY GOD MAYBE BITTY WORKED FOR HIS DIBS AFTER ALL
and crying into his fur about the bullies and how he thinks he might be gay
and
señor
bunny being his only friend throughout school
because bitty had school friends, but he didn’t want to let anyone too close, just in case
and then
señor
bunny is being packed up and brought to Samwell
and it’s more of the same at first, but bitty seems stronger
and then suddenly he’s so, so happy because they KNOW
and they DON’T CARE
and sometimes bitty doesn’t come to bed on time because he’s sleeping away his hangover in the kitchen, but he always says good morning when he comes back up
and
señor
being jarred awake at 4 in the morning because bitty is grumbling about practice
but he’s so much happier, and that’s all that senor can hope for, but bitty hasn’t been around much and there are no other toys to talk to
señor
bunny has never been this out of the loop with bitty’s life before
and suddenly bitty is glowing, on his phone or the computer almost constantly
and he brought
señor
bunny to madison for the summer and back to Samwell
but suddenly bitty is gone most of the time – somewhere named Providence?? and
señor
is not allowed to come
and then jack visits, and señor bunny knows where bitty has been, because his owner is glowing
but suddenly he’s shoved off the bed, bitty is giggling, and a sock-covered foot accidentally kicks him under the bed
it’s dark, and there are dust bunnies, and he’s never felt so alone. he’s happy that bitty is happy, but couldn’t he be a part of it too?
and he waits. because surely bitty will find him now that it’s morning, right? bitty always says good morning.
cue “when he loved me” by Sara Mclachlan when jack and bitty get up for the day, and bitty doesn’t even notice
señor bunny is gone
DON’T THINK ABOUT IT
BUT THEN
it’s been months
señor bunny has given up all hope. he’s going to be stuck in this hockey frat house forever. bitty doesn’t love him anymore, and he’s moving out to be with jack
but suddenly, there’s light, and the bed is moving
a gasp
“I found him!”
bitty is almost crying, scooping señor bunny up in his arms and holding him close. “I thought I lost him on one of our moves! I can’t believe he’s been here this whole time!”
“this is your stuffed bunny, yeah? I saw him once or twice when you were too slow to hide him.” jack is here, too. the room is practically bare.
“chirp chirp chirp, that’s all you do.” bitty retorts. he holds señor bunny out. “Jack, señor bunny. señor bunny, Jack.”
“nice to meet you,” jack gingerly shakes his paw. señor might cry. he’d never been introduced to anyone before, especially not someone as important as a boyfriend.
“thank goodness I found you before I left,” bitty murmurs, cuddling him again. “I cried for days when I realized I lost you.”
and when they all move to Providence, señor bunny is not the most prominent fixture of bitty’s life like he used to be, but he’s okay with that. especially when jack and bitty bring a pink bundle home and introduce him to their new addition.
“say hello, señor bunny. I think you two will get along just fine.”
Every hour spent together Lives within my heart When he loved me
(warning: spoilers. this probably won’t make sense unless you’ve read the script. far be it from me to recommend this kneazle-vomit of a play, though, so if you haven’t read it, good)
the plot is messy, strange, and childish. there’s only one time-turner left!! how will the characters cope when said time-turner is lost? oh lol they’ll just use this other convenient time-turner. for convenient plot points, see also: harry can suddenly speak parseltongue again, because well he just kind of needs to be able to do that
Harry cursing “oh dumbledore” without a hint of irony. like really? really
the characterisation was a pile of dragon dung and we all freaking know it. let’s break it down into individual characters here because fuck if I can stop at one bullet point for this
Hermione: the brightest witch of her age, the constant crusader for the unloved and the unrepresented, whose successful career and capacity for kindness apparently rest in the hands of her romance with Ron Weasley. oh… but wait. it sounds a little familiar, this story. hear me out. let’s see now, a highly intelligent person who falls in love but doesn’t have that love reciprocated, and who then becomes a really fucking mean teacher at Hogwarts through bitterness. sound like anyone we know? fam, they tried to parallel Hermione and Snape. Hermione and Snape. this being the same Snape who sneered in Hermione’s face when she’d been visibly hexed, and made her cry; the same Snape who bullied Neville Longbottom for years, while Hermione muttered instructions under her breath to help him. if you want to tell me that Hermione would ever allow herself to become a Snape parallel then I will kindly invite you to shove a dirigible plum where there’s no lumos solem
Harry: when Harry was at his angriest in OOTP, and he’s yelling at Ron and Hermione, there’s one thing we notice. everything he yells is true. he means it. he’s bitter about it and he’s loud and furious, but he doesn’t have the kind of anger that just says anything to cause hurt, that speaks without thinking, not even at this crisis point in his life. are you really going to tell me that the boy who knows down to his bones what it’s like to feel rejected, and misunderstood, and alone, would ever say – even in anger – that he wishes Albus wasn’t his son? I am going to snap wands over this
Cedric. and this one burns. because Cedric was brave and he was true, and he had a sense of justice that led him to telling Harry about the way the golden egg worked, and led him to sharing the winning of the triwizard tournament with Harry. he died, he was murdered at the age of seventeen, embodying a sense of justice so strong, an innocence, a goodness. Cedric Diggory – the boy who believed in fairness with an integrity that is astounding – becoming party to the indiscriminate killing and casual torture of the Death Eaters just because he had his head engorged one time… is about as likely as Hagrid stomping on a dragon egg. it’s an insult to who he was and I am going to engorge the entire bodies of the writers of this fucking play so that hopefully they’ll just float away too, with all the grace and likeability of Aunt Marge
Voldemort: can we all agree now that Voldemort would not father a child. the idea of him experiencing lust seems out of character; the idea of him giving into a base urge seems more so. it’s too human, too vulgar, too physical; it would associate him with the common and the mainstream in a way that I contend he would find repulsive. Tom Riddle Sr. was trapped by Merope into sex and romance; to have sex would be to bring himself closer to his parents, down to the level of a Muggle and a witch who lacked power and craved love, two things Voldemort could never, ever stand. no. he wouldn’t have sex just because he wanted to; he’d be repelled by the idea. what other reason could there be for him to do the nasty with Bellatrix? to ensure the continuation of his line? that makes even less sense. achieving immortality for Voldemort was always a question of magic, a personal quest. he wouldn’t go for a messy, physical back-up plan. he always thought that he would win. if anything, he would see a child as a future threat, not a security. another being in the world with the promise of his power? he wouldn’t risk it.
what the fuck was that trolley witch scene though
“for voldemort and valour” are you serious. is there a Gryffindor spy in the Voldemort camp laughing their ass off because they actually managed to get that one through. and are they ten years old
overall, the message of the play infuriated me. Delphi was the child of Voldemort, so she was evil. Albus was the child of Harry, so he was good. Scorpius was the son of Draco, so he should have been evil, but Draco’s actually kind of good now and his mother was nice, so he can be good too. where is the complexity? was five hours of drama not enough to find some shades of morality? where is the hope, where is the resonance, in a story that says that good begets good and evil begets evil, and nothing can really change? the Harry Potter book series was about a boy who grew up with something inside him that was utterly evil, and who rejected it, fought against it, changed the path that fate seemed to wish him to walk. not slytherin, not slytherin. we had Regulus Black and Sirius Black, who rejected their pasts, whose heritage and whose House stood for nothing against their principles, their eventual and separate forms of bravery. we had Remus Lupin, who transformed into a monster but never became one, not even after years of rejection and pain. we had the word mudblood, and we watched Hermione fight it, we knew it was ridiculous to label someone based on their blood. and now… we have the Cursed Child. a playwhich is flat, and stupid, and tells us that your parentage inevitably dictates your character – and that how you’re treated is how you’ll treat others. dear writers, in the words of Albus Dumbledore, you fail to recognise that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be. you fucks.
•Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta have the only place big enough to fit everyone so that’s where the dinners are held but everyone does something and these nights are always fun
•Feuilly smuggles Chetta different spices and ingredients and even recipes from the restaurant he works at
•Cosette brings her infamous sugar cookies, Courf brings fresh bread, Grantaire brings the finest stolen wine, and always without fail Bahorel brings cupcakes of seven different flavors always covered in hot pink frosting
•Jehan, Eponine, and Gavroche come over before everyone else to set and decorate the table with fresh flowers along mismatched plates and bowl
•Ferre makes dinner playlists if you looked in his phone you’d see every single one dated along with notes of the same date describing the best parts of the evening
•Marius and Bossuet are always on cleanup duty and someone always cuts their hand and Enjolras always gets queasy because of it
•sometimes Grantaire plays his harmonica along with Feuilly on his fiddle
•sometimes it’s quiet except for jokes and stories and laughing and before they know it it’s almost two am and if they’re sober enough they head home but things usually turn into a giant sleepover
•cuddle pile on JBM’s living room floor
•one very memorable night in the middle of winter Enjolras ran outside to make snow angels. Everyone joined him until a snowball fight got out if control and a neighbor called the cops
•Bossuet spills things everywhere way too much so a lot of these dinners are spent in not nice clothes but
•every October dinner is a costume one, which is a rule made by Jehan, begrudgingly (but not really) upheld by everyone else
•they all swear those nights are the number one thing they look forward to
•basically they love each other and even when they’re all busy or trying to save the world they make a point to be happy and relax together
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