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GUYS IT'S THEM!!!

A lamb that will not bite the wolf was not born hungry enough. but I was born hungry enough. am not afraid of anything.

— Yves Olade, from “Black Teeth.”

“I am the dagger and the scar. I am the slap, I am the cheek, I am the limbs, I am the rack, the convict, the executioner. I am the vampire of my own soul”

— Charles Baudelaire, tr. Aaron Poochigian, The Flowers of Evil, from “Spleen and the Ideal”; “Heautontimoroumenos”

every day i wake up in fucking 1830s france

my girl wronged by the narrative, my girl haunting her own story, my girl dead in the first act, my girl the blank in between the lines, my girl the phantom of the past the apparition of the future

                                          I keep singing just to keep myself alive!

“Mostly I want to be letters—not their sounds, but their shapes on a page. It must be exhilarating to be a symbol for everything at once: the bone caught in a child’s windpipe, the venom hiding in a snake’s jaw.”

— Kaveh Akbar, from “Rimrock”, Calling a Wolf a Wolf

Each Crumbling House, Melody S. Gee

In honor of SPOTIFY WRAPPED,  send me a number 1-100 and I’ll write you a starter based on the song.

“the well-confined rage of the eldest daughter is only ever shown in the way she disrespects herself.”

open starter call for éponine, like to notify!

“December’s immaculate coldness feels warm. December feels like blood.”

— Zinaida Nikolaevna Gippius, from Selections; “Finally, The Party At Rach,”

“I lay and cried, and began to feel again, to admit I was human, vulnerable, sensitive. I began to remember how it had been before; how there was that germ of positive creativeness. Character is fate; and damn, I’d better work on my character. I had been withdrawing into a retreat of numbness: it is so much safer not to feel, not to let the world touch one. But my honest self revolted at this, hated me for doing this.”

— Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

SHAMELESS 2.09 “Hurricane Monica”

FIONA GALLAGHER || SHAMELESS - 7x09

Location Building Prompt #187

A small lowly apartment.

CHARACTER STATISTICS

NAME: éponine marie thénardier

AGE: twenty-three

GENDER: cis woman, she/her

SEXUALITY: bisexual

LOCATION: paris, france

OCCUPATION: waitress/bartender

APPEARANCE

HAIR: brown

EYES: brown

BUILD: slender, often described as "too skinny"

FACECLAIM: emmy rossum/fiona gallagher

MISC.

EDUCATION: secondary school dropout

LANGUAGES: french (native tongue), english (second language) - fluent in both, often slips between both depending on who she's speaking to or what about

ZODIAC: cancer sun, libra moon, aries rising

MBTI: INFP-T

TRAITS (+/-): sarcastic, honest, flirtatious, aggressive, intense, spontaneous, impulsive, independent, stubborn, humble, frugal, emotional, closed-off, enigmatic, jealous, defensive, selfish, temperamental, non-committal

LIKES: black coffee, marlboro gold cigarettes, mystery-thrillers, romance novels and movies, combat boots, alt-rock, eyeliner, tattoos, fingerless gloves, acoustic indie, blondes, boxing, morning runs, bar-hopping, smoking weed, early 2000’s emo, blunt humor, dark lipstick, rum (spec. captain morgan), whiskey (spec. jameson), oversized sweatshirts, living alone

DISLIKES: men, people who don't tip, her lack of knowledge, the patriarchy, spiders, heights, people who comment on her smoking, people who comment on her weight, people who comment on her attitude, people in general, her family history, generally talking about herself, how much gavroche and azelma comment on her choices when they (and she) have better things to worry about

FAVORITE SONGS: x x x x - includes work by the pixies, nirvana, death cab for cutie, and fiona apple

FAVORITE MOVIES: fight club, girl interrupted, eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, 500 days of summer, lost in translation, 10 things i hate about you

FAVORITE BOOKS: catcher in the rye, the alchemist, alice's adventures in wonderland, the bell jar, the hunger games series

“Perhaps I am no one. True, I have a body and I cannot escape from it. I would like to fly out of my head, but that is out of the question.” - Ann Sexton

“Smoking is the only honorable form of suicide.” - Kurt Vonnegut

"THERE'S GOT TO BE MORE," a phrase that constantly circled through her mind; from her young age of 10 years to her current age of 23, éponine was always relying on that one simple phrase. seeing life go from fine to worse, learning about the harsh realities of men and monsters alike--she always hoped for more.

growing up in montfermeil was subpar at best--of course, when she was a young girl, éponine never felt that way. she wore the prettiest dresses (that mother would smack her over tearing) and she was the oldest, so papa would let her stay up late and eat candy while he played cards and smoked cigars with men from town.

but, after what she later learned to be a poor investment and a declaration of bankruptcy, the selling of the motel and moving into a one-bedroom in the shitty part of Paris, éponine quickly realized just how unlucky she really was.

by 13, she was helping her father pick the pockets of tourists who would crowd around the lourve, or go recite the sob story of her dying maman to the young and old couples waiting to tour the Eiffel tower. the story plucked at the heartstrings, and got her father what he wanted--a few francs for his children's exploitation whilst peddling illegal paraphernalia while unassuming heads were turned.

the story about mother wasn't untrue, éponine just wasn't aware until her unexpected passing a few months later. the only ripple in the storytelling was that instead of breast cancer, mother had overdosed on heroin--her own husband's product, no less.

instead of mourning the loss of his wife, thénardier took his emotion out on his children--where in montfermeil, the most father would do was smack them around a bit, after mother's passing, he became increasingly more rough. his oldest, taking the brunt of these violent outbursts. with the passing of his wife also brought thénardier to the decision of relocation to london, and then with the end goal being somewhere on the east coast in north america.

they never made it to north america.

as she aged into adolescence, éponine was forced to age ten years in a few short years. gone was the soft childlike features with the warm toothless smile and rosy cheeks, instead replaced with bags under her now-dull brown eyes and gaunt cheeks. by 15, she was nothing but skin and bones, sharp angles and edges found in her elbows and visible ribcage. her lithe appearance was brought on by the state of living, and was not received well by anyone--but it gave her the advantage of surprise. no one expected the little thénardier girl to be able to throw a punch when she looked like she weighed 100lbs soaking wet.

giving up on school was an easy decision; she barely paid attention in class when she attended, and she cared more about azelma and gavroche having a full education in opposition to her half-assed one, given the last time she had attended a full day of school had been before her mother had passed. dropping out at 16, she obtained a job at a nearby hospital as a daytime-janitor. after a few short months, she was able to earn enough money to help out her siblings in small ways--getting hats and gloves for winter, pants when gavroche grew out of his old ones, and a warmer coat for azelma when she needed. a few groceries here and there, just enough to keep the three of them going but not enough to raise suspicion of her father. at this time in their lives, thénardier had become a low-level drug dealer with high-level product, and had accumulated a crew of men to work alongside him. three men that were all around the same age as éponine's despondent father, and one who was much younger. the 21-year-old montparnasse, who smelled of tobacco and cologne, who had spent much of his youth in paris.

it started as thénardier making offhand comments towards his daughter, and montparnasse keeping his beady eyes on her a few moments longer than she liked. but the attention was so foreign, each time he came around afterwards or they found reason to be near the other, éponine did what she could to hopefully charm him. this went on for a stretch of time, on and off over two years. while ‘parnasse generally sought her out to get physical relief in the form of a quick fuck, he wasn’t blind. he helped her in small ways, by picking gavroche up from school to meeting her at work with a redbull and a pack of cigarettes. she’d listen to him talk, about tattoos and clothes, picking at his cuticles lightly with a pocketknife and she’d talk about her father and how she wants to see the alps one day. he calls her naïve and it’s condescending, and she tells him to go fuck himself.

what she had with montparnasse was probably the closest thing to love, and her biggest regret, still.

he’s something that éponine regrets as an adult, and still kicks herself for. but it kept her and her siblings alive until her 18th birthday, when she convinced 'parnasse to help her pack up the three's belongings and help them get to the train station. the day she had been waiting for. the day had ended in a beer bottle being thrown at her head as she walked out of the dilapidated apartment for the last time. after they had made it to the station, montparnasse waited with them before giving gavroche a hug, nodding in azelma’s direction good-naturedly and wordlessly slipping a hand around éponine’s torso in a poorly-administered side-hug. it was only until after they’d gotten settled on the train that she realized he had slipped his zippo into her jacket pocket.

at the age of 23, five years later, éponine had settled back in paris. working at a café near their apartment that they had moved into, the modest two-bedroom that had fixed rent. azelma was enrolled in online-community college, gavroche was making it through secondary school. they were lucky with what they had and were keeping things as low-key as possible. éponine still wished for more, a life of her own. she was worn-out, exhausted, haunted and tired. she was also determined to find more. whatever that may be.

GUIDELINES + THE MOD;

hello there, my name's syd. let me tell you a bit about myself.

firstly, this au is very reliant on my own interpretation of a character I have loved for years--I am staking no claims to her story other than Hugo being dead (oops). if you see any issue with my interpretation, kindly chose to not interact because tastes are acquired. what may seem fitting to my version of ép might not suit yours, and that's okay.

if you are wanting to participate in hate speech of any kind, leave me out of it.

I am working full-time, but from home so I have the ability to be more present online than someone who is away from their devices.

this blog will approach heavy topics. not only is les miserables a story with heavy content material but the story of éponine's is another bag entirely. topics such as; abuse/abusive relationships, alcoholism, mental illness, neglect, self-defensive violence, smoking, self-injury, and overall depressing topics will be, at the very least, referenced.

my listing of the topics above was a way of warning anyone who could want to interact and find themselves triggered without a warning. these topics will not be the focus of this blog, however.

this blog will contain nsfw content, as the mod and muse are of age. the content will be tagged when appropriate.

my ask box is always open and I love to discuss with people, in or out of character. come say hello!

“this character is dead” to you maybe. I don't know where y'all live but I live in denial