Les Misérables - Inspector Javert
⭐ “This man was composed of two very simple and two very good sentiments, comparatively; but he rendered them almost bad, by dint of exaggerating them—respect for authority, hatred of rebellion; and in his eyes, murder, robbery, all crimes, are only forms of rebellion.”
u could count this as a personality swap au too but basically it’s sonic and the black knight with amy as the main protagonist and sonic as the lord of the lake. they just switch roles oooohohoo
i’m shit at drawing armour but i tried and this is what happened, i had to make amy’s armour resemble her normal outfit and i took nimue’s dress from the game n made it into a coat for sonic GOD I HAD FUN DESIGNING THEIR CLOTHES
[ before I begin, I’d like to explain. I’ve had this story idea for the alter egos for a while now, and @reverseblackholeofwords gave me the inspiration to post it (hope you don’t mind that I’ve tagged you >.<
is it too late to tag @intplier as well? Another fav blog of mine??
I have no idea if it’s any good, so I’ll let the internet judge)
Taking Back Control - Part 1
Amy awoke in a bed she didn’t recognise, with a splitting headache and a desperate need to pee. She tilted her head to look for Mark next to her. He wasn’t there. There was no sign of him having ever been there. Amy sat up, almost collapsing under the pain that followed. She brushed her hands across the back of her head, feeling a slight lump. She groaned, rubbing her face with her hands before making an effort to examine to room around her. She sat in a predominantly white bed, though the covers and pillows had a yellow swirling design of birds and flowers. It would have been pretty, but the possibility that whoever had placed her here was pandering with the bed design was a vaguely uncomfortable feeling. Amy shook her head slightly, she couldn’t assume anything yet. Maybe she was on holiday in a hotel, and she was too tired to remember where she was. That sort of thing happens right?
She looked over the room, glad to feel that the pain in her head had numbed to a slight throbbing. The room was square and predominately white. It was styled like an old mansion, with fancy designs joining the walls together. No windows let in any light, though Amy found a lamp on her bedside table, which she gratefully turned on, letting her eyes adjust. A simple white vase with some fresh yellow flowers sat on the bedside table. Opposite the bed was an antique fireplace - although currently unlit - with two armchairs placed around it. Amy would have continued examining each nook and cranny of the place, but she had another pressing matter. Her bladder. To her right was an offshoot to the room, with two wooden doors. Surely a room this fancy had an en suite! She stood, staggering slightly as her head throbbed. Her shoes had been placed next to the bed, so she slipped them on and headed to the doors. One was locked, though the other did indeed lead to a bathroom, complete with spa, shower and toilets, which Amy used gratefully. Upon relieving her bladder, she took a moment to examine her appearance in the mirror above the marble sink. She had a bad case of bed hair, and was wearing the same clothes she remembered wearing yesterday, a simple white sweater and blue jeans. Well, maybe yesterday, she had no idea how much time had passed. Her clothes proved to her, however, that this was no hotel. Surely she would have changed, and no one just forgets where they are for this long without known amnesia. Plus, Mark was nowhere to be seen. This led Amy to one main conclusion. She’d been kidnapped. There seemed no other explanation. The bump on her head, the amnesia, the unfamiliar place.
Her heart rate quickened dramatically. Though this realisation led to her being more grateful for the clothes she was wearing. No one had seen her naked body while she was unconscious.
Amy left the bathroom, trying once again on the other door. It seemed thoroughly locked. She walked back into the main bedroom, searching around throughly. She found another door on the other side of the bed, but in led into a simple walk in closet filled with empty coat hangers. She considered using a coat hanger to attempt to open the other door, but decided against it. She doubted that would work anyways. Her ‘kidnapper’ seemed relatively intelligent. All the rooms had been cleared of any objects that could cause damage to anyone. No towels to throw, nor sharp toiletries, or even wood in the fire. Smacking someone over the head with a coat hanger was a pitiful last resort. However, there was a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a hairbrush, which she used to clean herself up. The kidnapper had even provided her with tampons and pads, though this disturbed Amy more than anything. It seemed to imply she’d be here for a while.
Amy must have been pacing that room for half an hour, her mind coming up with horror scenarios, before she heard noise outside. She jerked, her heart pounding and head throbbing. Foot steps approached the door, accompanied by a slight whirring. She couldn’t help but instinctively back into the opposite wall. The lock twisted and the door creaked inwards. Amy’s eyes widened in relief. It was Mark! She rushed forward to him.
“Oh thank god, Mark!” She grasped his hands. They were as cold as ice, “Do you know where we are?” He scowled at her, and pulled his hands away, placing them stiffly at his side.
“I am not Mark.” he said monotonously, the word ‘not’ stuttering slightly as it left his lips. Amy pulled back, looking over the man in front of her. They looked like Mark, there was no denying it. They wore a pair of jeans and a blue shirt, though upon closer inspection, Amy saw that the G on their shirt glowed slightly. They wore Mark’s glasses, and their eyes were also tinted a slight red, which shone against the glass.
It couldn’t be…
“Who are you then?” She questioned slowly. ‘Mark’s’ head glanced up, expression neutral, eyes glowing slightly brighter.
“I am an early experimental prototype of the Google IRL unit. I am designed to answer questions and complete rudimentary tasks. If you have any complaints, please phone-” a screeching static noise erupted from him, causing Amy to flinch back. He never finished his statement, as he returned back to his scowling expression, locking eye contact with Amy. “Did that sufficiently answer your question?” He asked with a slight smirk, seeing Amy’s startled look. She let out a slight, breathy laugh, not out of humour, but shock. She had thought Mark was pranking her, but that glitching was real, and Mark would never kidnap her like this. This had to be some sort of vivid dream. Sure, dreams usually weren’t this vivid, but any explanation made more sense than the robot in front of her. She pinched herself. Nothing happened. Google sighed. “I understand that this must be hard to comprehend Miss Nelson, but I really don’t have time to deal with your questions.” He grasped her hand in a crushing grip, and walked swiftly out the door, which Amy just had time to close behind her.
“O-okay-” She was cut of as Google spun around, shoving her into the wall wildly, glitching and stuttering.
“Don’t say it!” He growled out threateningly, causing Amy to gasp out.
“I w-was just agreeing…” The robot pulled back, looking her over, though one hand still tightly gripped hers.
“Oh. My apologies Miss Nelson. However, I must inform you before we continue that the phrase ‘Okay Google’ is banned from this household.”
“R-right. Of course, sorry.” She mumbled. She looked around. Straight forward from the bedroom door was a hallway, ending in a door. To her left was a longer hallway, which opened into a larger space in the centre. Google took her down this way hastily, causing her to stumble and trip behind him. He continued to drag her however, so she pulled herself into a standing position, trying not the step on the back of his sneakers. The open space lead to two, large curved staircases on her left, though the right wall was closed off by large, red curtains. She swore she heard music on the other side, though Google gave her no time to investigate as he lead her up the stairs, his joints whirring as he went.
“This way, Miss Nelson.” She snorted, stumbling up the stairs in his wake.
“It’s not like I have much of a choice.” She muttered, but if he heard, he made no comment.
Upon reaching the first floor of the stairs, which went on for one more storey, Amy gasped in amazement. A huge room opened out at the the base of the stairs, with a ceiling two storeys high decorated with a huge chandelier. The far walls were covered in tall windows, letting in trickling rays of sunlight. A long, narrow table sat in the centre, with many comfortable-looking chairs surrounding it whilst the sides of the room held several configurations of armchairs, some set up in front of television screens . No one seemed to occupy the space at the moment, however, and Google made a sharp right, leading her down a short hallway, stopping outside a double door on the right. He pushed it open, shoving Amy through, and stepped in after her, closing the door behind him. The room had dark grey wallpapers and white, marble floor. The centre had a rectangle of black armchairs, set on top of a black and white carpet, with a pleasing symmetrical pattern. Google gestured to it.
“Sit. He will see you shortly.” Amy tensed. Google pointed at the door on the left side of the room, before moving towards it. “I will inform him that you’ve arrived.” And with that Amy was alone, and only then did she notice the faint ringing in her ears. Her blood ran cold, and her body constricted with a crushing sense of terror. If Google was real, did that mean…
She she ran forwards to a third door ahead of her. It appeared to be made of glass, and looked over a wooden deck. The forest landscape would’ve been beautiful if she weren’t so afraid of what was to come. The door was locked. She considered smashing it, but that would’ve been loud and drawn quick attention. She turned back, noticing a hallway. She moved to run down it, before realising it simply led to a large bathroom. The ringing grew louder. She rushed to the first door desperately, hands clawing at the door handle.
It was unlocked.
Amy took no chances, she sprinted down the hall, back past the central grand room. She glanced over it for exits. The doors in that room all appeared to lead to the deck, an easy way to get cornered. She turned back towards the two, towering staircases. The hallway in between them led to large, wooden double doors. That had to be the exit!
She ran, passing two large open archways on her sides that she didn’t bother to inspect. They would be onto her soon. She tripped on a short stairway leading down to the entrance, and slammed into the door. She tired to open it desperately. It was locked shut. Her heart plummeted, and she sunk to her knees. Of course it was locked. What had she expected? Would she be punished for attempting to run? The lump on the back of her head pounded heavily, accompanied by the loud ringing in her ears. She clawed her weak, shaking hands against her ears. Amy felt sick. Faint. She made a last ditch effort to slam her hands desperately against the smooth wooden doors when she heard footsteps behind her.
It’s when you both follow each other!! Mutual following^^ Most people that are mutuals have this… quiet understanding that they both enjoy each other’s content even if they don’t talk and it’s beautiful :P
Ok wait so the fact that guns kill people wasn’t enough for Jason in the Injustice universe? He also needed taser spikes on the handles of his guns? Tasers that not only shock you but also stab you. Knives that not only stab you but also shock you.
The moving takes a full week of constant back and forth between
Ego Inc. and the house, but the boys work harder than they ever have to get it
done. Amy is on constant high-alert with worry that Dark will try to make a move, try to
stop them, but he never does. He merely does whatever he can, however, to disrupt the
Speak of the devil…
The alarms go off for a meeting. Wilford drops the box he
was carrying with a growl. “Again!? Really?” He pulls out his gun and fires a
few rounds into the ceiling. Amy reaches up and rubs his back silently. “Not
much longer now,” he promises her, but she knows that he’s promising himself, too.
“Once you guys are moved out, you can go to the meetings on your
own terms. No alarms, no ridiculous hours,” she says with a smile, picking up
the box that Wilford dropped. “I’ll take this.”
Warfstache ruffles the hair on top of Amy’s head with a
grateful smile. “You’re the best, Amy.”
“I know,” Amy says, slipping through the basement door into
the kitchen of the Ego’s new house. Dr. Iplier is there, making breakfast when he hears
the alarms through the open portal.
“Oh, not again,” he moans. “I haven’t even had my omelet
yet.” Doc scrapes the eggs onto a plate, shoves a fork in his mouth, and
brushes past Amy with a fond tap on her head as he disappears through the portal.
“Good luck,” she shouts after him before glancing down to see the box she carries is another one of the Host’s. That’ll mean it needs to go tot he library, so Amy
heads up the main stairs on her way to the roof. She passes Bim along the way as he’s coming
down. “Roll call at the Board Room. Seemed like a Full House,” Amy tells him
with a sympathetic look.
“He’s going to try to make us stay. I know it.” Bim rests
his head against the wall where a picture of all the Egos, except Dark of
course, stand in front of the newly built house with Amy and Mark and the rest
of Teamiplier, is hung like their very strange family portrait.
Amy gives him a quick peck on the cheek. “Don’t worry,
Bim. We won’t let him bully you guys.” Bim gives a weak smile and keeps going
down the stairs. “Be sure you’re back for dinner! I’m making your favorite!”
Bim gasps. “Chicken Italiano?”
“Yup,” Amy giggles as she reaches the top of the stairs.
From here, she can see down one side into the kitchen and over the other side
into the den where Bim shrugs on his coat and runs for the portal door. Amy
turns left where Ed and Silver’s rooms stand adjacent to each other and a cord
hangs from the ceiling which Amy tugs on until the stairs cascade down, leading
to the roof.
Once on the roof, Amy can see out across the mountains and
valleys and over the huge, crystal lake. She loves it here, but Wilford refuses
to tell her where it is. “If Dark found out you knew, that would put you in an
awful lot of danger.” “What about you? You know, don’t you?” Wilford had smiled
cheekily. “I don’t matter as much as you, though.”
Those words still haunt her, the way he said them so easily. It
didn’t feel right, not one bit, but she’d never been able to talk sense into
Wilford, not since the day she’d met him. And she couldn’t bully him into
thinking his life mattered. Amy blinks at the sunlight glinting off the water
and shakes her head. It’s a problem for another time.
Host’s new library is bigger on the inside than it looks
from the outside. It’s mounted on top of the rest of the house, strung with
vines blooming with sweet, smelling flowers around the railing which keeps him
from falling off. Amy had insisted on that. “Hosty! You in there?” Amy kicks
the door gently, unable to open it herself.
The Host comes running, swinging open the door for her.
“Amy!” He gestures for her to come in and smiles as she gasps in awe at the
library all over again. This one has more windows, more natural light, so that
the place isn’t so dark and ominous. The walls are white, exposed boards with
the same dark wood bookshelves that Host has always had, stuffed with tomes,
and the labyrinth seems to have no end even though the tiny add-on doesn’t look
very big at all from the outside. Bim’s abilities to patch this place together have been nothing short of amazing.
“Host, it’s lovely. I bet you’ll be glad to have it all put
together.” She sets the box down and starts going through it. Mostly books and
few personal items which she arranges in a line on the desk so Host can inspect
them and put them where he wants. “Bim says he’s getting his new garden started
in the backyard and that you’re helping him!”
Host nods eagerly. “Bim is very excited to have a real plot
of land to work with, and I think that I can help him plan it out to best suit
his needs.” The Host offers Amy a plate of cookies. “Baked them last night when
I couldn’t sleep. Want some?”
Amy looks lovingly at the cookies and then up at Host, only
then does she remember that he’s supposed to be at the meeting. “Oh, Host, I
forgot! Dark set off the alarms again. All the others are at the meeting!”
Host’s face falls for just a moment, sending a pang through
Amy’s heart, before he gives another gentle smile to keep her from worrying too
much. “Just relax. We’ll be back soon.” He reaches for Amy, and she holds out
her hand. Host squeezes it quickly before turning to leave. “And Amy?” She
turns back to see him standing in the doorway, the breeze coming through the
trees ruffling the collar of his trench coat. Host is practically glowing.
“Don’t eat all my cookies while I’m gone.” Amy laughs at him, and Host heads
out, shutting the door behind him.
Meanwhile, at the meeting, Wilford surveys the attendees and
notices there are three Egos missing: Host, Doc, and, most concerning of all, Dark. Wilford excuses
himself and heads for the elevator. Something’s wrong, and he’s got to find out
what and fast.
Il faut vieillir. Ne pleure pas, ne joins pas des doigts suppliants, ne te révolte pas : il faut vieillir. Répète-toi cette parole, non comme un cri de désespoir, mais comme le rappel d’un départ nécessaire. Regarde-toi, regarde tes paupières, tes lèvres, soulève sur tes tempes les boucles de tes cheveux : déjà tu commences à t’éloigner de ta vie, ne l’oublie pas, il faut vieillir ! Eloigne-toi lentement, lentement, sans larmes ; n’oublie rien ! Emporte ta santé, ta gaieté, ta coquetterie, le peu de bonté et de justice qui t’a rendu la vie moins amère ; n’oublie pas ! Va-t’en parée, va-t’en douce, et ne t’arrête pas le long de la route irrésistible, tu l’essaierais en vain — puisqu’il faut vieillir ! Suis le chemin, et ne t’y couche que pour mourir. Et, quand tu t’étendras au travers du vertigineux ruban ondulé, si tu n’as pas laissé derrière toi un à un tes cheveux en boucles, ni tes dents une à une, ni tes membres un à un usés, si la poudre éternelle n’a pas, avant ta dernière heure, sevré tes yeux de la lumière merveilleuse — si tu as, jusqu’au bout, gardé dans ta main la main amie qui te guide, couche-toi en souriant, dors heureuse, dors privilégiée.
Remember when Amy Brookheimer was a main character on Veep? (Like, the 3rd main character behind Selina and Gary storyline-wise)
Remember when Amy Brookheimer was arguably the most valuable/ actually competent person on Selina’s team? (being 2nd in command, orchestrating Dan’s breakdown to become campaign manager, the way she could see right through Dan… etc)
Remember when Amy Brookheimer was a very valuable powerful “technically a consultant” lobbyist and master manipulator in which rival politicians wanted to steal her from Selina?
Remember when Amy Brookheimer hated kids?
Remember when she had a deep complex non-romantic but actually romantic deep interdependent connection with Selina?
…Café Musain may become a Starbucks where Enjolras and Grantaire discover they are gay; Marius may find himself torn between a loyal wife and a passion for Eponine; or Enjolras may pursue a romance with the undead Eponine - a formerly popular ‘ship’ that received its own 'smush name’, 'Enjonine’. Since then, there’s been a wave of 'alternative universe’ rewritings that have nominally resurrected revolutionaries discussing not the political issues of the nineteenth century but questions of greater relevance to the writers themselves. Chief among them at the moment is the representation of 'marginalized groups’, so the 'Friends of the ABC’ now figure on sites like An Archive of Our Own as a rainbow of different racial, sexual and gender identities.
David Bellos, The Novel of the Century: The Extraordinary Adventure of Les Misérables
So Laura @athenaeyes and I went to this author’s talk tonight in London on his book about the publication of Les Mis - which was super interesting! - and I haven’t bought the book yet… but I did snap a quick picture of a page and certain shoutout in it to all of us lurking in the Les Mis fandom, and thought you guys might like to see! Lo and behold, Bellos knows about the coffeeshop aus and everything! He clearly did his research ;)