#Enjolras? Sure yeah i get that

[courfee]

every time someone calls grantaire a twink a part of me dies

[kjack89]

Timeless

Because it may have been almost a month, but what is time, anyway.

The air in the antique shop was thick with dust, and Combeferre coughed into the crook of his arm before giving Enjolras a look. “Remind me again what we’re looking for,” he said, picking a particularly tacky snowglobe off of the shelf without bothering to hide his look of revulsion.

“A gift for Grantaire,” Enjolras repeated for easily the twelfth time as he examined the spines of a stack of ancient books with yellowed pages.

“Right,” Combeferre said, replacing the snowglobe and sharing a knowing glance with Courfeyrac. “Why?”

Enjolras glanced up at them and away again. “Does it matter?”

Courfeyrac leaned against a shelf that creaked ominously, and he hastily straightened. “Well, it’s not Christmas,” he reasoned.

“Not Grantaire’s birthday, either,” Combeferre added.

“And no judgment, Enj, but it’s a little late for Valentine’s Day.”

Enjolras ground his teeth together, glaring a garish painting of a sad clown as if it had personally offended him. “It’s an apology gift,” he said sourly, staring determinedly away from Courfeyrac and Combeferre so that he didn’t have to see the look they inevitably gave each other.

He was already familiar with it.

“Uh-oh,” Courfeyrac said, with barely suppressed glee masquerading as concern. “What are you apologizing for?”

Enjolras sighed. “I said something stupid.”

“No shit,” Combeferre said, uncharacteristically blunt, not that Enjolras didn’t likely deserve it. “But what specifically?”

Enjolras sighed again, raking a hand through his blond curls before telling them reluctantly, “We were watching some movie, or at least, it was on in the background while I was doing work. Some kind of rom-com thing and it ended with the couple old and happy together, and Grantaire made some comment about how maybe that’d be us someday and—”

Courfeyrac stared at him, all traces of amusement vanished. “Don’t tell me.”

“I just pointed out that statistically—”

“Enjolras,” Combeferre and Courfeyrac groaned simultaneously. 

Enjolras winced. “I mean, the world’s probably going to be uninhabitable long before we’re elderly—”

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes so hard it looked physically painful. “Mm, yeah, whisper that in his ear, see how it goes.”

“I didn’t realize he was trying to be romantic,” Enjolras muttered, the tips of his ears flaring as red as his favorite hoodie as he continued to avoid meeting Combeferre or Courfeyrac’s eyes. 

“Of course you didn’t,” Combeferre sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Enjolras huffed another sigh. “And now I need to make it up to him,” he said, determined to force the conversation back to something productive.

Combeferre just gave him a look. “And you decided an antique shop was the best place to find a gift because…?”

Shrugging, Enjolras picked a small ceramic ornament off the shelf, turning it over in his hands as he tried to figure out what the hell it was supposed to be. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “He loves this place, so I figured there must be something here worth getting.”

Courfeyrac made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a hastily-stifled cackle. “Pretty sure he likes the bar next door better,” he said.

“Probably,” Enjolras said, “but I can’t exactly get that for him, can I?”

Though at the rate he was going, that might actually be the only gift big enough to make it up to Grantaire.

“Fair enough,” Combeferre said, ever the voice of reason. “Why don’t we split up, cover more ground?”

Enjolras made a face. “Why does this feel like the start of a slasher movie?”

Courfeyrac smirked. “Probably because if you don’t succeed, your relationship’s going to be the first thing to die?”

Enjolras glared at him. “Thanks for your support,” he said dryly.

“Anytime,” Courfeyrac said, saccharine sweet.

Enjolras rolled his eyes as he turned to survey the assorted crap that evidently passed for antiques. He knew he should be more grateful that his friends were willing to put up with him and his now decades of emotional incompetence, but in his defense, they didn’t have to be such assholes about the whole thing.

Though, in this case, Enjolras definitely deserved it.

He scowled as he drifted somewhat aimlessly down the aisle, not even sure what he was looking for. His eyes fell on a tattered cardboard box perched precariously on the end of one shelf, or more accurately, on the neon green postcard taped to the front.

PHOTOS AND LITHOGRAPHS, it proclaimed. TWENTY-FIVE CENTS EACH.

Enjolras had no idea who in their right mind would buy random old photos of people they’d never met or places they’d never been, but he intrigued enough that he pulled the box off the shelf, shuffling through the untidy stacks until he pulled one out at random.

It was a black and white photo of two young men in dinner standing next to each in front of an old-fashioned car. He flipped it over and he could just make out, written very faintly on the back, ‘Before the big dance, 1944.’

He frowned as he turned the photo back over, but before he could toss it back in the box, he caught sight of the familiar half-smile the shorter of the two men wore. A smile that Enjolras had kissed more times than he could count, and without warning, he could see it in his head like a memory he didn’t even know he’d had.

“Hey, kid,” Grantaire said, giving Enjolras that little smile as he leaned against the fence.

“Don’t call me kid,” Enjolras said, breathless. “I’m eighteen, and besides, I graduate soon.”

“I know,” Grantaire said, raking his eyes slowly down Enjolras’s body, his smile sharpening. “Besides, you don’t look much like a kid tonight.”

Still, Enjolras hesitated. “You don’t have to come with me, you know. I know you’re shipping out soon, and I doubt you want to spend your time with a bunch of kids…”

Grantaire raised both eyebrows. “Didn’t we just establish you’re not a kid?” he said easily. “Besides, someone’s got to keep an eye on. Especially if Courfeyrac spikes the punch again.”

Enjolras half-smiled at the memory, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I wish I was going with you.”

“I don’t,” Grantaire said flatly. “Hard enough fighting the Nazis without having to worry about you getting shot or blown up.”

Enjolras just shook his head. “You’ll write?”

“As often as I can,” Grantaire promised, reaching for his hand. “And I’ll be back before you know it.”

It was a hollow promise – they both knew too many young men who would never return from the war in Europe. But before Enjolras could point that out, Grantaire dropped his hand, straightening. “Mr. and Mrs. Enjolras,” he said with what he clearly thought was a winning smile.

“Oh, Grantaire,” Enjolras’s mother said. “I didn’t realize you were going tonight.”

Grantaire shrugged. “Thought I’d give the kids a little treat,” he said easily.

Enjolras’s father laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “And hopefully keep them out of trouble,” he said.

“Of course,” Grantaire said, winking at Enjolras, who rolled his eyes.

“Wait, before you go, I want to get a picture!” Enjolras’s mother said, and Enjolras groaned.

“Ma, not tonight—”

“Just one,” she said, and Enjolras’s father frogmarched them both over to pose awkwardly in front of the car. “See, all done.”

Enjolras just sighed and looked at Grantaire. “Let’s get out of here,” he muttered.

Grantaire grinned. “I’ll make sure I bring him back in one piece,” he promised Enjolras’s parents, who both just smiled and waved.

Enjolras and Grantaire made it all the way down the sidewalk and around the corner before Grantaire pressed Enjolras up against the side of a garage to kiss him. “Sorry,” he said. “You really do look good, kid.”

“So do you,” Enjolras murmured, and Grantaire kissed him once more before releasing him.

“What do you think?” he said, casually. “Make an appearance at the dance and then you can come back to mine to say goodbye properly?”

If Enjolras had his way, he wouldn’t say goodbye at all. But since that wasn’t an option, he settled for nodding. “Yeah,” he said. “Sounds like a plan.”

Back in the antique shop, Enjolras shook his head, feeling almost dizzy as the memory – or whatever it had been – faded, leaving a strange sort of buzzing sound in his ears. He set the photo down with trembling fingers, and then, like an idiot, reached back into the box again for another.

This time he emerged with a color photograph that looked like someone had torn it out of a book based on the caption in tiny print underneath the picture. ‘Portrait of a young man writing a letter,’ the caption read, dry and boring like any art book Enjolras had the misfortune of flipping through, ‘ca. 1650. Artist unknown.’

Enjolras frowned down at the picture, letting out a sigh of relief that it didn’t look anything like Grantaire.

At least, until he realized that it did look, at least a little bit, like himself.

Enjolras’s chest felt tight as he scanned Grantaire’s latest missive. Where most of his friends sent updates on how their efforts were going to liberate Enjolras from the cursed marriage his parents had foisted upon him, Grantaire’s alone were like a balm in these dark times. They weren’t full of hope, as Enjolras would never expect from the cynic, but they were full of certitude, of no promises but instead guarantees that no man could stand between Grantaire’s blade and Enjolras.

“Patience is a virtue neither of us possess, but I must beg you for what little you can spare me,” the latest letter read. “Dark is the night but soon we shall be reunited in the dawn. And should we fail, know that my heart will belong to you for the rest of time, and none may cleave my soul from yours when we depart this earth.”

Enjolras traced his finger over the scrawled ‘R’ at the bottom of the page, lifting his finger to brush against his lips. Only then did he sit up in his chair, straighten his shoulders, and grab his own quill to begin to write his response.

Again, Enjolras resurfaced in the antique store, and he reached out automatically to grab the shelf, steadying himself against it. His head swam, and he had no explanation for what was going on, save for the obvious that he’d finally cracked under pressure and lost his entire mind.

It didn’t feel like he was going crazy, though. He was still him, still in this cursed store, still trying to find some kind of apology gift and instead unearthing bizarre memories of, what, alternate lives?

A hysterical giggle rose in his throat and he did his best to tamp it down, instead reaching for the box to return it to its spot on the shelf. 

Instead, he caught sight of a lithograph on the top of the pile of pictures, a charming little scene of what could only be a Parisian café a century or so ago, and despite now having two very distinct reasons to know this was a bad idea, he lifted it out of the box.

He couldn’t even pretend to be surprised at what happened next.

Enjolras squinted up at the sun, too high in the sky already for how much he had to accomplish that day.

But as he strode past a café, someone hailed him, delaying him all the further. “Enjolras! Join me, won’t you.”

Enjolras scowled at the dark-haired man seated at a table outside of the café, his chin propped in his hand as he grinned at him.. “I see you are putting your morning to good use,” Enjolras said sourly. “Alas that some of us have more important matters to which we must attend.”

Grantaire’s grin widened. “And yet what may be more important than sating your hunger and thirst?” he asked with feigned innocence. “Even gods take the time to feast with mortals.”

“I suppose it is well that I am not a god, then.”

He turned to leave but paused when Grantaire called after him, “All the more reason to join me, then. As I doubt I merit the company of gods regardless.”

Enjolras sighed, turning back to again refute him, but before he could say anything, Grantaire straightened, his grin sobering into something more genuine, something that made Enjolras’s chest feel inexplicably warm. “Please,” he said, something soft and almost sweet in the word. “Would the world cease to spin should you spend a half hour letting someone take care of you?”

“Is that what this is?” Enjolras asked, forgetting to be harsh.

Grantaire shrugged. “A first attempt, at least.” His grin returned. “How am I doing thus far?”

“That remains to be seen,” Enjolras said, hesitating for only a moment before, reluctantly, sitting down across from him. “Very well. You have a half hour. Do your best.”

“For you, I always do,” Grantaire said, his voice low, and Enjolras was suddenly aware that the warmth on his cheeks had nothing to do with the sun.

At least this time, he didn’t feel like he was going to collapse upon returning to himself, which was a small sort of comfort. He did feel a little shaky, which probably explained how his renewed attempt at putting the box on the shelf instead sent it falling to the floor.

Enjolras groaned as he bent to pick up all the pictures and shove them back in the box, hoping this didn’t mean he’d suddenly experience a hundred memories at once. Luckily, he remained entirely in the present, and he hastily gathered all the photos, placing them back in the box, which he successfully returned to the shelf.

Only then did he notice a photo he’d missed, and he sighed again as he bent to pick it up, glancing automatically at it. This was a color photo, much more recent if a little out of focus, of two older men kissing, and he flipped it over to see if anything was on the back. 

In bold Sharpie strokes, someone had written ‘FINALLY! Fifty years in the making. June 29, 2015.’

Enjolras felt the breath catch in his throat. Three days after Obergefell.

He waited for the memory to overwhelm him yet again, but this time, it didn’t come, and he frowned down at it, a little surprised. Maybe it was because neither man particularly resembled him or Grantaire.

Or maybe it was because he and Grantaire had to live this memory themselves.

It was a stupid thought that somehow still had tears pricking in Enjolras’s eyes, and he shook his head, starting to return the photo to the box before hesitating.

He knew what he needed to give Grantaire.

— — — — —

“I bought these.”

Grantaire glanced up from where he was lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone. “Hell of an opening,” he said mildly, sitting up as Enjolras sat down next to him. He accepted the paper bag that Enjolras held out, his brow furrowing, and he carefully shook out the four pictures Enjolras had purchased from the antique store, fanning them out across the table.

He blinked down at them and back up at Enjolras, his brow furrowing, just slightly. “I don’t understand,” he admitted. “You bought four random pictures?”

Enjolras jerked a nod and then took a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize.”

Grantaire looked up at him, his expression neutral. “I’m listening.”

Enjolras wet his lips before telling Grantaire, “I meant what I said.”

Grantaire sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ok,” he said, with something like patience, “maybe we need to first circle back to what the concept of an apology means—”

But Enjolras refused to be deterred from his point. “You and I both know that we aren’t guaranteed to get old together, let alone separately,” he said, and Grantaire fell silent, something tightening in his expression, something that Enjolras wanted desperately to smooth away with his fingertips. “Hell, we’re not even guaranteed to make it to next week, let alone past November, or five years from now or what have you.”

“Stirring oration as always, Enj—”

“But what I should have said,” Enjolras continued, “and didn’t, is that it doesn’t matter how much time we have together. What matters is that we have any time at all.” He reached for Grantaire’s hand, a little surprised when Grantaire let him take it. “Whether it’s five years or fifty years, any time that I have with you will be worth it. I don’t know if we’re going to get a happy ending, but I’ll be damned if we don’t get a happy right now with each other. And that– that’s what I should have said.”

He had faltered a little at the end, but it was worth it regardless for the look in Grantaire’s eyes, for the small half-smile that lifted just one corner of his mouth, for the way his fingers tightened around Enjolras’s.

Enjolras took another deep breath before telling him, “I went to the antique store to get you a present to say that I’m sorry, but instead I got these.” He gestured at the pictures still spread across the coffee table. “Something about them– I can’t explain it, but I look at them, and I see us.” He shrugged, a little helplessly. “I know that between the two of us, I’m the believer, but I have to admit, until I saw these, I don’t know if I truly believed that it really is me and you, forever. Whatever that forever ends up looking like.”

He squeezed Grantaire’s hand before telling him, “So I didn’t get these for you. I got them for me, to remind myself of that. Because the only gift that I can give you that matters worth a damn is time.”

Grantaire’s smile was soft and his eyes were just a little bit wet, and he shook his head. “Enjolras—”

He broke off as if he couldn’t quite decide what to say, and Enjolras added, “And I really am sorry that I didn’t say this the first time around.”

Grantaire shook his head again. “Well,” he managed, his voice thick, “you said it now. C’mere.” He tugged Enjolras to him, reaching up with his free hand to cup Enjolras’s cheek, to brush his thumb along his jawline as he leaned in to kiss him. “I love you.”

Enjolras kissed back before telling him, “I love you, too.”

Grantaire kissed him once more, his lips curving into a smile against Enjolras’s before he leaned back to ask, innocently, “So does that mean you didn’t actually get me a present, or…?”

Enjolras sighed, the exasperated, endlessly fond sigh of a man in love with the biggest pain in the ass he’d ever met. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

And for once, Grantaire did. After all, they had time to worry about presents later.

They had all the time in the world.

[idiopathicsmile]

tumblr is such a beautiful place because, for instance, long story short, a full-on trio of seemingly unrelated people have hit up my askbox recently, inquiring my opinion as to the terrible but inspiring revolutionary from Victor Hugo's Les Misérables (1862) and the heavy-drinking and argumentative but somewhat warm-hearted cynic from Victor Hugo's Les Misérables (1862), and specifically who would be more likely to unsubtly steal cream cheese from their college cafeteria, and who would be more likely to full-on see the food crime happen while laboring as a cafeteria worker but do absolutely nothing to stop it.

i fully support pondering such Great Questions yourself, about your own OTPs. truly there are worse ways to waste an evening.

anyway, my own thoughts below the cut!

so the thing is, and i know this is a magnificent cop-out but it is unfortunately the truth, this is the rare pairing i ship where you could make a strong argument either way.

like, is enjolras taking shifts in the school cafeteria because his parents cut his tuition money due to his extreme political activism and so he resolutely joins the working class of the college community, only to immediately get so burned out about the (i assume) stringent and somewhat nonsensical rules governing the distribution of cafeteria food? maybe! is grantaire filching the cream cheese for what he will gladly describe to anyone willing to listen (and also to many half-willing to listen) as a "piece of gonzo performance art" which just happens to culminate in the distribution of home-made desserts to his floormates (not that he's got a weird complex about how hard it is to make friends using just his personality)? maybe!

alternately, is grantaire burned out on any customer service-adjacent job you can imagine, from day one? sure! is enjolras out there defiantly trying to gather the supplies to make another course of food for the students who can't afford a full meal plan, like feuilly? yeah, you could make that case, i think!

so yeah, in response to the several(!) people who asked (<3), i think this is the exception to the rule where you could kind of just flip a coin.

[rosemary-rothlorein]

Victor Hugo: not relevant but there is an urgent need for a close-up shot of Enjolras.

Text was copied and pasted from wikisource.

3.4.1, introduction paragraph

Woe to the love-affair which should have risked itself beside him! If any grisette of the Place Cambrai or the Rue Saint-Jean-de-Beauvais, seeing that face of a youth escaped from college, that page's mien, those long, golden lashes, those blue eyes, that hair billowing in the wind, those rosy cheeks, those fresh lips, those exquisite teeth, had conceived an appetite for that complete aurora, and had tried her beauty on Enjolras…

Poor Enj, walks on the street and gets harassed by random passers-by.

Also Victor Hugo, next paragraph: now let’s talk about Combeferre, “He was less lofty, but broader. That’s all. Thank you.”

Enjolras, the believer, disdained this sceptic; and, a sober man himself, scorned this drunkard. He accorded him a little lofty pity. Grantaire was an unaccepted Pylades. Always harshly treated by Enjolras, roughly repulsed, rejected yet ever returning to the charge, he said of Enjolras: "What fine marble!"

Grantaire, are you sure you are there for Enjolras’s faith and (chaste, healthy, firm, upright, hard, candid) nature NOT FOR HIS FACE???

3.4.5, Combeferre’s être-libre big show

Enjolras, whose blue eye was not fixed on anyone, and who seemed to be gazing at space, replied, without glancing at Marius:

Thanks, Victor, for reminding us of something you said four chapters ago.

4.12.3, basically Grantaire’s love confession

Enjolras, who was standing on the crest of the barricade, gun in hand, raised his beautiful, austere face. Enjolras, as the reader knows, had something of the Spartan and of the Puritan in his composition.

Maybe the reader also knows Enjolras has a beautiful and austere face.

4.12.7, Javert’s identity is discovered.

"Spy," said the handsome Enjolras, "we are judges and not assassins."

Javert: …Why?

4.12.8, Le Cabuc’s execution

Enjolras, pale, with bare neck and dishevelled hair, and his woman's face, had about him at that moment something of the antique Themis…

Victor Hugo: I know one minute ago you were not doing anything intense, merely talking to Javert, but now I need you to cosplay Themis, so please get rid of your cravat and dishevel your (beautiful, golden, shining) hair.

Enjolras: …okay.

His dilated nostrils, his downcast eyes, gave to his implacable Greek profile that expression of wrath and that expression of Chastity which, as the ancient world viewed the matter, befit Justice.

Victor Hugo: Killing in the name of justice can easily get us into endless and heated ethical debates, and the issue is further complicated by the very situation, given it is a revolution, where a judicial system has not really been established. Let’s not get into deep water but make our life easier: this is divine justice.

Le Cabuc attempted to resist, but he seemed to have been seized by a superhuman hand.

Le Cabuc: I am armed, and I am evil and impetuous enough to murder someone without a second thought. Am I not supposed to fight this schoolboy?

Victor Hugo: No. You are supposed to be shocked by his beauty. And chastity.

Le Cabuc: Is that something I can tell by LOOKING AT HIM?

Enjolras ceased. His virgin lips closed; and he remained for some time standing on the spot where he had shed blood, in marble immobility.

Marble x2.

Jean Prouvaire and Combeferre pressed each other's hands silently, and, leaning against each other in an angle of the barricade, they watched with an admiration in which there was some compassion, that grave young man, executioner and priest, composed of light, like crystal, and also of rock.

5.1.3

Enjolras reappeared. He returned from his sombre eagle flight into outer darkness. He listened for a moment to all this joy with folded arms, and one hand on his mouth. Then, fresh and rosy in the growing whiteness of the dawn, he said:

…He literally says hey guys, we are going to die now.

Victor Hugo: Yeah I know. But light technician, light on Enjolras please!

5.1.5 barricade speech.

All at once he threw back his head, his blond locks fell back like those of an angel on the sombre quadriga made of stars, they were like the mane of a startled lion in the flaming of a halo, and Enjolras cried…

How can Victor Hugo forget to highlight his revolutionary gold boy’s beauty?

Enjolras paused rather than became silent; his lips continued to move silently, as though he were talking to himself, which caused them all to gaze attentively at him, in the endeavor to hear more. There was no applause; but they whispered together for a long time. Speech being a breath, the rustling of intelligences resembles the rustling of leaves.

No virgin lip this time. Good thing that Victor is learning self-restraint (but not for long, apparently).

5.1.8 the death of sergeant of artillery

And a tear trickled slowly down Enjolras' marble cheek.

Marble x3.

Victor you are using Grantaire’s vocabulary.

5.1.23 the martyrdom of Enjolras

The audacity of a fine death always affects men. As soon as Enjolras folded his arms and accepted his end, the din of strife ceased in the room, and this chaos suddenly stilled into a sort of sepulchral solemnity. The menacing majesty of Enjolras disarmed and motionless, appeared to oppress this tumult, and this young man, haughty, bloody, and charming, who alone had not a wound, who was as indifferent as an invulnerable being, seemed, by the authority of his tranquil glance, to constrain this sinister rabble to kill him respectfully. His beauty, at that moment augmented by his pride, was resplendent, and he was fresh and rosy after the fearful four and twenty hours which had just elapsed, as though he could no more be fatigued than wounded.

(The most obvious evidence that this guy is divine. Human biology DOES NOT work in this way.)

It was of him, possibly, that a witness spoke afterwards, before the council of war: "There was an insurgent whom I heard called Apollo."

Were you at the barricade for the revolution or for something (someone) else???

A National Guardsman who had taken aim at Enjolras, lowered his gun, saying: "It seems to me that I am about to shoot a flower."

Le Cabuc symptom: brain stops functioning properly at the sight of Enjolras’s beauty.

Noise does not rouse a drunken man; silence awakens him. The fall of everything around him only augmented Grantaire's prostration; the crumbling of all things was his lullaby. The sort of halt which the tumult underwent in the presence of Enjolras was a shock to this heavy slumber. It had the effect of a carriage going at full speed, which suddenly comes to a dead stop. The persons dozing within it wake up.

Now we have music fading into a suffocating silence, light focuses on Enjolras, twelve guns arranged in a way according to the rules of one-point perspective. Your turn Grantaire!

[lonelyroommp3]

the thing is yeah i may bang on and on about how much i cannot stand post-2013 les amis fanon and this has forever tainted my ability to Be A Fan of specifically the les amis side of les mis. but that will never change the fact that enjolras will ALWAYSSSS be That Girl to me and i'll tell you why. it is because before ANYTHING else i am a whumper i am a hurt/comforter i am an enjoyer of stoic brave characters getting completely broken down into sobbing messes and enjolras is MADE FOR THAT!!!! like ohhh he's basically marble he doesn't care about anything but revolution he's an awe inspiring greek statue of a man to everyone around him half of his friends probably believe he doesn't actually need to eat drink sleep etc and he definitely believes that when there are more important things to be done, which there always are, because the world hasn't changed yet and it is his full time 24/7 vocation to make sure it does. and then he endures 24 hours of pure unadulterated nonstop trauma and in the book he cries a single perfect tear at a climactic moment and in the movie aaron tveit makes sure every damn time you're looking at this man outside of the immediacy of Leader Mode he looks like some kid's sad lost stuffed animal who got dropped in a puddle somewhere and it is sooooo close to the perfect catharsis of a glorious sobbing breakdown but you never quite get there. and i will tell you for free that there used to be a thriving market for this... you could not move on livejournal or fanfiction.net for fics where enjolras endured such preposterous overwraught traumas that 99% of it was grossly ooc and i did not care. i was eating that shit UP i had a sickfic where enjolras faints mid argument with grantaire printed out and kept in a folder beside my bed so i could read it every night. and i will also tell you why i have such a double standard for Overblown Whump OOC Enjolras and Regular Fanon OOC Enjolras and that is yes, partly because of my own preferences, but also because at least Whump OOC Enjolras feels born out of love for the character as opposed to love for a set of incorrect quote archetypes. anyway what was the point of this. we need to write more enjolras whump again. that was it

[brookstolemybrand]

I already talked about Sabo being kind of a parallel protagonist to Luffy, but Koby is in some ways maybe even more so (especially since he was introduced literally in chapter 2)

Sabo is Luffy's dad's protégé

Koby is Luffy's grandpa's protégé

(Sidenote: Luffy kinda took Ace's place as Shanks' and Rayleigh's protégé, arguably; I mean it would have made a lot of sense for former Roger pirates to act as mentor figures for Roger's son, wouldn't it? In a different story that put more importance to bloodlines, Ace would have been destined to be the next King of the Pirates for sure. Ace is kind of a decoy protagonist)

With Koby it's even more obvious when you look at the known SWORD members and how many of them have some kind of legacy position, or at least we can assume so even if we don't know for certain (like with Hibari suspiciously sharing Akainu's dialect). In theory, Garp's grandson would fit into SWORD perfectly.

And of course Garp very much intended this to be Luffy. It's not even subtle that Koby is the replacement grandson lmao

(Say what you want about Dragon's (lack of) parenting, he definitely didn't put any pressure on Luffy. So with Sabo it's not really the same, it's not like Luffy refused to follow in his father's footsteps; he didn't even know he had a father, much less what those footsteps were. But the parallels are still there)

But yeah, I think their personal connections to Luffy, as well as the way they're set up in positions that Luffy plausibly might have had in some alternate timelines, makes them Luffy's counterparts in the Navy and in the Revolutionary Army. Which allows them to function as pseudo-protagonists for the audience when Luffy isn't present and to take on plotlines that would otherwise feel like they should be handled by the main characters (like taking on the Blackbeard Pirates and the Celestial Dragons respectively)

Narratively speaking, as the plot gets bigger, you kinda need these secondary protagonists to carry the parts of the story that Luffy can't be there for

The three of them also represent different shounen protagonist archetypes:

I kinda struggled to phrase this myself (and honestly I just have a very limited reference pool for shounen anime) so I googled it and I'm stealing the terms from this post

Basically Luffy is the "Idiot Hero", Koby is the "Boy Wonder" and Sabo... well actually I think Ace is the "Punk Martyr" (he took the martyr part a bit too seriously rip), and Sabo is the secret fourth thing: the Cool Competent Guy (even though Sabo is also a punk, he just hides it better)

Luffy is a Goku, Koby is a Deku, and Sabo is... idk I guess he would be a Lelouch (look, I'm talking about character TYPES, not saying they're the same kind of person)

... Well actually Sabo is more of an Enjolras, but Les Mis is not a shounen manga—

SIKE, IT IS, I'M COUNTING IT

(That's a really good adaptation of Les Mis btw, I could gush endlessly about Takahiro Arai and how well he understood not only the core of the story but also how to adapt it into a visual medium, really leaning into the vivid metaphorical imagery in Hugo's narration and then adding to it his own, it's SO GOOD)

(To immediately nitpick myself: Sabo is more like an amalgamation of all the Amis de l'ABC but it's easier to say Enjolras for short. Also yes I know Enjolras isn't the protagonist, but he has protagonist energy)

Anyway... what was I saying?

Right, I was gonna talk about the hero thing, because heroism is actually a big theme in One Piece:

Luffy doesn't want to be a hero, BUT KOBY DOES. He might be sheepish about calling himself one, but it was his dream, and by all conventional standards he accomplished it: he's now a Navy Hero

Sabo is more of a reluctant hero; he wanted to be a pirate like Luffy but chose to become a revolutionary instead. He's fully committed to that role though, even willing to accept the title of regicide if it helps the cause (this btw also makes him similar to another character in Les Mis, the Conventionist who... okay fine I'll stop)

As a marine and a revolutionary, Koby and Sabo are on the opposite sides of the whole "hero" thing. Although well, neither of them are extremists so at the same time they're not that opposite either, more like just each others' counterparts on opposing sides, but still

It makes sense that Koby, whose ambition was to become a hero, would gravitate to the conventional and widely accepted form of heroism: military heroism. Meanwhile Sabo, the reluctant hero, was driven to become one exactly because those socially accepted forms of heroism in reality exist to maintain an unjust system and there need to be people who step up to oppose that system, it's heroism out of necessity

You could also say that Koby becomes a part of the system because he wants to be a hero, Sabo becomes a hero because he wants to escape the system...

(Sidenote: I actually have a hunch that Dragon is probably more like Koby in terms of personality and ambitions, he's just a Koby who became disillusioned after learning the truth about the navy. That's the vibe I get anyway)

Either way, both of them are a good contrast to Luffy, who insists that he's not a hero and who chooses to just follow his selfish whims, which is why he's the pirate, he picks the least "heroic" career option. And that's why he's the protagonist, because this is a pirate manga

That said, as it turns out, his selfish whims are pretty heroic anyway, and he ends up being the one who has the most freedom to do exactly what needs to be done, BECAUSE he's not a hero

(Is that extremely dangerous? Sure. Could it end really badly? Yes. But Luffy isn't supposed to be a role model, he's literally a pirate)

But it still helps the narrative to also have heroic characters who aren't only motivated to help people who give them food lol

(I kid, but ykwim)

It helps that there are heroes even if the protagonist isn't one, because otherwise the audience might start wanting the protagonist to become the hero

And then it wouldn't be a pirate adventure story anymore, it would become a hero narrative

....

.... I know I should end the post here but you have no idea how much I'm holding back a rant rn about the marines and how much they suck and why I find Koby so frustrating as a character... That's another post tho

[reflection-s-of-stars]

Remember the sweat in our palms

For @aanthonyvb for @drinkwithme-exchange !!! Sorry it’s so late + short, I wrote this in like an hour for adhd reasons that I may or may not be projecting onto Jehan. Kinda a sequel to last year’s fic, or like a modern au of something similar :)

The back room of the Café Musain is a great place to meet with your friends in the winter and talk about anything and everything, from monarchies to modern art. The main room is a great place to walk in and get a glass of water in the summer, and the tables outside are a great place to watch the leaves turn and flutter in the fall.

But in May and June, the best place for a couple of stressed-as-hell philosophy majors to study for their Roman Studies final is the place next door, a quiet little bookstore that none of Enjolras’s friends ever think twice to visit.

“What’s that thing Professor Garnier said about Cicero?”

“He’s the most widespread-”

“Yep. Remember now. Thanks.”

It’s cool in here. The AC is way better here than at the café. Enjolras briefly wonders why he doesn’t come here more often, where it’s cool and quiet and full of books. Books and Jehan, who may or may not be even more stressed than he is, but Jehan is quiet enough to blend into the rest of the store.

A couple of peaceful hours pass in the company of Seneca and the study guide.

“Are you worried about it?”

Enjolras places his book down.

“Worried about what, Jehan?”

“The test. The essay. Everything.”

He isn’t worried. He doesn’t get worried about tests. Enjolras knows his strengths, and he works well alone and great under pressure. The material isn’t an obstacle, he can argue (and has argued) with their teacher about Marcus Aurelius. There’s honestly very little for him to worry about.

“Not really.”

“No,” says Jehan, looking away. “Me neither.”

“Are you sure? I thought you hated finals.”

That’s true and they both know it. Pressure is as bad for Jehan as it is good for Enjolras. Time crunches are his kryptonite, and the closer the deadlines get the worse it’ll definitely be.

“I think this one’ll be okay, to be honest,” he says, and sighs. “I think the more I say it, the more likely it is to be true.”

“I think Bossuet says that a lot.”

Jehan lets his head down with a thunk into the wooden table, and it immediately occurs to Enjolras that he probably shouldn’t have said that.

“I’m going to fail.”

“No, you’re going to do fine, you know what to do on the essay-”

“No, I’m going to fail.”

“You read all the material-”

“Yeah, I’m going to fail.”

“Jehan, I didn’t even read all the material.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Yes, I did. But you did too.”

“God, I’m going to fail.”

The store is quiet and cool. Enjolras can almost feel the red flush of Jehan’s face, reaching down his neck and threatening to draw tears from his eyes. He knows when he’s messed up, and he’s messed up just now, and nothing is going to-

DING

Jehan’s phone, face-up on the table, shows a text from Grantaire.

R u next door

DING

U and E

DING

Wanna come to cafe M

Normally he wouldn’t say yes to any invitation from Grantaire, but it’s been a long day and Enjolras is ready to make things right.

“Jehan.”

“No, you’re right, there’s no point in-”

“Look at your phone,” says Enjolras, grabbing his bag. “Let’s head out.”

Jehan lifts his head with a groan, smiles, and slams his book shut.

The Café Musain is a great place to take a study break.

[expired-applejuice]

Part 5 of incorrect quotes

Bahorel: Guys, there's a monster under my bed and it's really ugly.

Grantaire, on the bottom bunk: Honestly, fuck you.

-

Cosette: i made a Marshmallow Inspector Javert.

Cosette: see? his arms are crossed because he's mad at Marshmallow Valjean for escaping him.

Cosette: you like it?

Javert:

Javert: *choked up* it's fine.

-

Courfeyrac: Once again, Courfeyrac and Combeferre save the day.

Enjolras: You didn't do anything It was all Combeferre.

Courfeyrac: We're a package deal. Everybody knows that.

-

Grantaire: Hello, fellow idiots

Enjolras: Hello, Grantaire

Grantaire: No, no, not you, you're not an idiot

Enjolras: You underestimate me

-

*Combeferre is cooking*

Grantaire: Any chance that's for me?

Combeferre: It's for Courfeyrac. I'm planning on making some bad choices tonight, and I need him on my side.

Enjolras: I never realized the forethought that went into being a disappointment

-

Enjolras: Feuilly isn't answering his phone

Bahorel: I'll call

Combeferre: Enjolras and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-

Feuilly: Hello?

-

Javert: God, give me patience.

Valjean: I think you mean "give me strength".

Javert: No, You better hope God doesn't give me strength because if he did, you'd be dead.

-

Joly: Hey, Bossuet? What does IDK, ILY, and TTYL mean?

Bossuet: i don't know, I love you, talk to you later.

Joly: Oh, okay, I'll just ask Musichetta. I love you too.

Bossuet:

-

Jehan: You have to apologize.

Montparnasse: Fine, but this might make me a better and more likable person and that is not the man you fell in love with!

-

Someone may have done this

*playing truth or dare*

Eponine: Okay, truth or dare?

Grantaire: Dare.

Eponine: Kiss the next person who arrives.

Grantaire: Gross, I'm not kissing any of you. None of you are my type.

*Enjolras walks in*

Grantaire:

Grantaire, using breath stray and putting on chapstick: Well, a dare's a dare.

-

Courfeyrac: You know my motto: carpe diem, carpe noctem, carpe coles.

Marius: Seize the day, seize the night, what's the last one?

Courfeyrac: Seize the dick.

-

Grantaire: mean, sure, I have my bad days. But then I remember what a cute smile Apollo has.

-

Combeferre: *seductively takes off glasses*

Combeferre: Wow...

Courfeyrac, blushing: Haha... what?

Combeferre: You're really fucking blurry.

-

Bossuet: Hey, babe.

Joly: Hmm?

Bossuet: I need your help with a math problem.

Joly: Oh, sure! What do you need?

Bossuet: How do you simplify 2i<6u?

Joly: i<3u

Bossuet: Awww, i<3u too!

Joly:

-

Enjolras, texting Bossuet: Send dudes

Bossuet: You mean-

Bossuet: You mean send nudes??!

Enjolras: No, we crashed the funeral and I'm bleeding. Send Grantaire

Grantaire: *already ran out the door*

-

Combeferre: I know every song to ever exist, doesn't matter when it was made.

Enjolras: Oh, yeah?

Grantaire: Finish this; I don't cook, I don't clean-

Combeferre: but let me tell you how got this ring,

Combeferre, Grantaire, and Courfeyrac, who came out of no were: GOBBLE ME, SWALLOW ME, DRIP DOWN THE SIDE OF ME-

-

*undercover*

Eponine: You don't think can fight because I'm a girl.

Marius: 'Ponie I don't think you can fight because you're in a wedding dress. To be fair, don't think Bahorel could fight in that either.

Bahorel: No, but I'd make a bomb ass wife.

-

Valjean: You're pouting.

Javert: I'm not pouting, I'm brooding.

Valjean: That's how pretty men pout.

-

Valjean, picking up his phone: Javert? I'm kind of busy right now-

Javert: Do you think drinking thirty-six cans of Redbull consecutively would heighten my senses or would I just die?

Valjean:

Valjean: I'm on my way.

-

Eponine: Bitches be like "I'm baby" but have childhood trauma and were neglected.

Eponine: Like what do you know about being baby? You were forced to grow up from an early age.

Eponine:

Everyone else:

Eponine: It's me. I'm bitches.

Gavroche, sighing: We know.

-

Feuilly: Y'all ever get so tired you see spiders?

Grantaire: Me when I take seventeen Benadryl and start seeing the Hat Man.

Jehan: THE WHAT?

Grantaire: Oh, so this is suddenly not a safe space?

-

Courfeyrac: Relationships should be 50/50; Combeferre cooks dinner while I sit on the counter looking pretty.

-

Bahorel: Not everyone likes you, Montparnasse. You aren't Feuilly.

Montparnasse: Not everyone likes Feuilly??

Enjolras, coming out of no where: Who?

Montparnasse:

Bahorel, cracking his knuckles: we need names, Montparnasse.

-

Musichetta: Can you two cut me some slack? I'm sort of in love.

Joly: I'm sorry, but that's really not our problem.

Musichetta: I'm in love with you both.

Bossuet, blushing: Oh... that brings us into the loop a little.

-

Combeferre: I fell-

Courfeyrac: From heaven?

Combeferre: No, I literally fell-

Courfeyrac: In love with me the moment you saw me

Combeferre: MY ARM IS BROKEN, COURFEYRAC

Courfeyrac: Ok, but am I pretty? Be honest.

-

*Combeferre and Grantaire in a casino*

Combeferre: Grantaire, we're about to get kicked out-

Grantaire: Shush!

Combeferre: We gotta-

Grantaire: Shut up!

Combeferre: R-

Grantaire: Shh! Shush, shush, shush! Do you hear that?

Combeferre: Wha- are you drunk?

Grantaire: Yes, but listen!

Combeferre:

Grantaire:

Grantaire: It's the sound of me not giving a fuck.

-

Javert: We all have our demons.

Javert, pointing at Les Amis: These ones are mine.

-

Valjean, helping Marius stand after being wounded: You need to be careful, you're loosing a lot of blood-

Marius, loopy: I'm not "loosing" it, I know exactly where it is!

*Marius points to the puddle of his blood on the floor.*

Valjean: Oh, dear Lord, I should just leave you.

-

Enjolras, making his third cup of coffee: Why are my hands so shaky?

Combeferre, on his fifth: Your skeleton is ready to hatch.

-

Montparnasse, to Feuilly: What's the first thing you notice when someone approaches you?

Bahorel, holding Feuilly's hand: The audacity.

-

Combeferre: Did you know-

Bahorel: That somethings are better left unsaid?

Combeferre: Nice try.

-

Eponine: Do you have any idea how dangerous I'd be if I had zero self doubt?

-

Jehan: If I were a drink, I'd be cherry vanilla coke. If you were a drink, what would you be?

Grantaire: Bleach.

Bahorel: Blood

Montparnasse: arsenic

Feuilly: Alright, calm down edgelords.

-

Grantaire: Dad didn't raise a quitter!

Joly: I thought your dad left?

Grantaire: Which is why I'm quitting.

-

Grantaire to Combeferre: Do you think I'm ugly?

Combeferre: It's not about looks, R. What's valuable is on the inside.

Grantaire, touched: Aww...

Combeferre: For example, someone's heart.

Grantaire: You're a good friend, Combeferre -

Combeferre: It can be priced at over one million US dollars, you know.

Grantaire:

-

Grantaire: Ok, here's my wishlist.

Musichetta: This is surprisingly reasonable.

Joly: We could probably get all this by Christmas.

Enjolras: Oh, so no one's gonna ask why I'm on the list?

Grantaire: That's more of a hope.

Enjolras: I still don't get why I'm on the list?

Bossuet, to Grantaire: Are you sure you don't want someone else?

Grantaire: Nope, I want him.

Enjolras: CAN SOMEONE PLEASE EXPLAIN WHY I'M OM THE LIST?!

-

*playing Would You Rather?*

Eponine: Ok, R. Would you rather die or-

Grantaire: Die.

Cosette: She hasn't even-

Grantaire: Die.

Marius: Grantaire, we talked about this...

-

Enjolras: I was born for politics.

Enjolras: have great hair and I'm great at lying.

-

Bahorel: I've thought about taking swim classes for adults, but honestly that's sadder than just drowning.

-

Combeferre, to Grantaire: I need 45 minutes away from you, and then we can be best friends again.

-

Montparnasse: *raises eyebrows *

Jehan: Put those back down

[fillsta]

Les Amis & Co: Beach Day Edition

Because it's summer and I had to

Enjolras:

My guy, he's so pale he needs an entire bottle of sunscreen to not get sunburnt. And he really doesn't care, everyone is after his ass holding the sunscreen, trying to 'at least cover his back because he'll be looking like a blonde strawberry by the end of the day'. Brings only a towel and his wallet or sth. Wears his swimsuit, flip flops and a t-shirt.

Combeferre

The dad of the group. Makes sure everyone has sunscreen on amd everything they need and you can hear him yelling "DON'T FORGET YOUR HATS" every hour or so. With every opportunity he gets, he's dropping random facts about the sand, the sea, the random crab grantaire just found etc etc. 80% of the time he's reading a book in his lil beach recliner chair. Brings an entire backpack filled with everything anyone could possibly need at the beach. Same kinda outfit w enj's, just with sneakers (bc he's driving everyone there) + a nice hat

Courfeyrac

He cannot put his ass down. Homeboy is always hyping someone up to play games. Beach rackets, volleyball, whatever. He and Gavroche sre having a BLAST. Nags to Combeferre about having to wear his hat the entire time. Brings a small bag w his stuff + another one filled with beach balls, rackets etc. Swimsuit + unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and a funky bucket hat

Grantaire

Vibes around drinking beer. The type of friend to splash water on everyone while they're trying to get into the water (particularly Enjolras). Goes looking for random shit on the rocks. Brings a fanny pack for his phone and cigarettes. Towel?? Don't know her. Shows up only in a swimsuit and at some points, he takes it off for shits and giggles

Bahorel

Have you ever been to the beach near a cliff side and there's this one mf who climbs on top of the cliff to perform an epic 11 meter backflip into the water? Yeah that's Bahorel. Bitch just goes around looking for ways to possibly get hurt. He doesn't. Deffo has a paddle board. Gets a crazy ass tan. Brings only the bag for the board and puts the rest of his stuff in there. Wears one of these shitty low armpit shirts. And a 'women want me fish fear me' baseball cap

Feuilly

He be taking beach day seriously. Brings snacks for everyone, randomly pulls out a sketchbook at some point. Gets excited over cool rocks and spends more time than necessary on making a sandcastle. Cannot go into the water on his own, at least one of his friends have to be swimming as well. His back is red asf at the end of the day. Hawaiian shirt but buttoned up. Carries an extra tiny bag for his book and sketchbook.

Bossuet

Somehow, he'll find a way to get stung by a jellyfish (and grantaire will almost immediately offer to pee on him). If not, he steps on a sea urchin. Or gets his leg scratched on a rock. But still he manages to have fun. In charge of the aux chord. Is extremely annoyed by grantaire and his splashes. A standard bag, has a t-shirt on but it obviously falls into the water by accident so he has to be shirtless on the way home (Musichetta and Joly don't mind at all). Lost his hat :(

Joly

Speaking of joly, mf's crazy over sunscreen. At least 3 times a day, they apply a new coat, hydrate every 10 minutes and will not let ANYONE go into the water if they've eaten anything, not after at least 2 hours pass by. Pull up wearing a speedo, jorts and a short sleeved button up. Amd a big ass hat. Huge af beach bag.

Jehan

It's their time to shine. They spend most of the time posing for pics but at the same time they're kinda shy abt it. Went into the water like once. One of these 'beach please bags'. They're wearing a flowy summer dress and like swimming shorts and a bikini top kinda thing. Staw hat person

Marius

He's dying inside. Bro's under the umbrella, watching everything, hoping time will eventually come for them to go home. Courf tries to get him into the water and he succeeds. Unfortunately, les amis do not let him go, they force him to be a part of the summer fun and at some point, he starts enjoying himself. Gets sunburnt. Bro shows up in jorts snd a polo t-shirt and changes into his swimsuit there (also he's definitely one of those guys who keep their underwear underneath). Unironically wears a fedora hat. Carries 26383 bags + Cosette's bc he's a gentleman above everything.

Cosette

Photographer of the group. Takes pictures of everything and everyone. Also takes videos of the stupid shit grantaire does and makes sure they o over to the gc immediately. Provides everyone with data, she's the hotspot friend. Jehan is her main model. Tries getting a tan, fails. Short flower dress over her black bikini and sandals. Matching straw hats w jehan.

Eponine

Omg sis has 2 siblings to take care of. Runs after Gavroche and Azelma all the time to keep them from doing stupid shit. She and bahorel do swimming competitions. Has like a big ass water bottle (joly approved) because she always gets dehydrated. And Gab and Azelma never drink water, ever. Doesn't go for a tan, still gets a great one. Old crusty bikini and just jean shorts over it. She'd like to go topless but isn't all for it yet. Has to carry her siblings stuff as well.

Musichetta

Ok sis is a great swimmer. She's in the water 24/7 vibin, swimming, playing games. No-one can get her out of there. She doesn't really eat much but if. There's any juice, she is drinking it all up. She loves her beach juice time okay? One piece swimsuit and a see-through coverup tied around her waist. Just a small beach bag is okay for her

Gavroche

As soon as they arrive, lil bro's in the water playing already. Then he pulls out water guns and declares war on everyone. Annoying little shit, but they all love him so much. Courf keeps him occupied by playing with him all the time. No one complains. Eats all of Feuilly's snacks. Begs Eponine to let him do stupid shit with bahorel. She does NOT give in, so he just finds a small rock to jump off of into the water nearby. Creeper swimsuit.

Azelma

Quieter than her brother but she follows along. Hellps Feuilly w his castle. Keeps Marius company when she's not in the water. Cosette asked her if she wanted her pics taken and she was ECSTATIC. Flowy dress and a flower pattern one piece underneath.

Bonus Montparnasse:

Floatie guy. Bro has like an inflatable donut and once it's in the water, he's off. Falls asleep on it and someone was to swim like a mile away to bring him back. Brings very few stuff with him. Like grantaire, just a swimsuit is fine

[ueinra]

Another day another comic to talk about! 

This is a French Comic illustrated by Houy Raymond and published in 1953 by Vedette, It’s volume 5 of the "FanFan" Collection.

Oh wow ​The Conventionist! He looks so much younger here. 

I think this is the only comic I've seen that has this chapter so far.

Look at my beautiful women, they look sooo well. 

I love Javert's expression here but why does he look kinda sad.. since when does this **** have feelings?? 

The way he doesn't like the whole thing but accepts it at the end and gets his best nap.

Aww this is adorable and I like the colors, they are comfortable. 

Yeah give me some Mabeuf moments with Marius!! always happy to see more of him. It's sad when one of the important characters is so forgotten.

THEODULE!!!! 

He looks great as always and I love how this comic contains moments of him when his character is not important to the story lol

He has two moments, when he comes to visit his aunt and she asks him to spy on Marius and when she later introduces him to M. Gillenormand and he sits with him to listen to his empty talk.

Seriously just look at his face, I'm sure he regretted sitting with him. 

Bless the illustrator for giving Montparnasse these lips and that elegant look.

and of course this moment when Valjean kicks his ass and gives him a fatherly admonition bc it’s ICONIC.

and here are my guys Les Amis who all look like they're wearing a liberty cap.

The way he stands on the table to prove how great Napoleon is ASDJFKASIKDASDF THIS IS SOOOO MARIUS.

I know that Azelma is younger than Cosette and Eponine but she looks like a baby here.

ok why are all the Thenardiers' children blond?? I want an explanation RIGHT NOW.

You don't know how much I love this moment. It's hard to explain. I just love them more than you can imagine.

The audacity he has to ask for water lol.. man ur a spy just shut up and stand there fr. 

I can't believe they're still going to kill him after he showed them his chest.. It's Enjolras' chest PEOPLE.

The hilarious thing about this part is that Javert doesn’t seem interested in Valjean’s musty smell and makes him JUST SIT NEXT TO HIM.

and Hugo completes the story as if it’s a very normal thing.

Whatever the ending absolutely breaks my heart, but the way Cosette embraces and cares for her father warms my heart and I know it makes the ending ten times worse but... yeah. 

[kjack89]

The Wikipedia Page

For the Hoeshold <3

E/R, modern AU, developing relationship, all shenanigans.

“Can you fucking believe this?” Enjolras said, incredulous, staring down at his phone.

Combeferre sighed the long-suffering sigh of a man who was about to enter into a conversation he knew he would deeply regret. “For the billionth time,” he said, with the patience of a saint, “when you’re looking at your phone, I can’t see what you’re looking at.”

Enjolras scowled and thrust his phone at Combeferre. “Here,” he said shortly. “Look at this shit.”

Combeferre glanced down at the phone, his brow furrowing. “It’s a Wikipedia page for – oh.”

Enjolras nodded grimly. “Yeah,” he said. “Exactly. Someone made a fucking Wikipedia page for me.”

“Of you, more like,” Combeferre murmured, scanning the page with an almost academic interest. “And not a very good one. Some facts are wrong.”

Enjolras’s scowl deepened and he yanked his phone back. “So now they’re just making up lies about me?” he seethed as he scanned the article. His own brow furrowed and he glanced up at Combeferre. “I don’t see anything inaccurate here.”

Combeferre frowned and took Enjolras’s phone back. “Well, for starters, it says you’ve been brought up on charges of domestic terrorism—“

“Which is true,” Enjolras interjected.

“You’ve been accused of domestic terrorism, but never indicted,” Combeferre corrected. “Thankfully for everyone involved, there’s a bit of a difference.”

Enjolras smirked. “You and the US Attorney’s office would probably disagree on that.”

“Secondly,” Combeferre continued, the long-suffering tone of regret back in his voice, “it says that you graduated from Harvard in 2016.”

Enjolras suddenly seemed unable to meet Combeferre’s eyes. “Oh,” he said. “Right.”

Combeferre’s eyes narrowed. “And of course,” he said, “you were kicked out of Harvard your senior year.” He paused before adding pointedly, “Right?”

“About that,” Enjolras started, and Combeferre gave him a look.

“You really lied about getting kicked out of Harvard?”

Enjolras’s face was roughly the same color as his usual hoodie. “I mean, I did get in trouble,” he mumbled, “and I wasn’t allowed to attend graduation.”

Combeferre rolled his eyes. “Because that’s even remotely the same thing.”

Enjolras’s flush deepened, and he quickly attempted to change the subject. “At least that narrows it down somewhat as to who created this asinine Wikipedia page,” he said, “since very few people know about Harvard.”

“Pretty sure it doesn’t take a genius to contact the alumni office and put two and two together,” Combeferre said dryly.

“But that would require someone to know my full legal name,” Enjolras countered. “And that list is even smaller.”

“Well, while you obsess over who put this page together, I’m going to be over here reconciling the fact that you’ve been lying to me for the past nine years,” Combeferre muttered.

Enjolras looked shame-faced before he paused, his own eyes narrowing. “Hang on,” he said. “You’ve done background checks on every single one of us, myself included, and this absolutely would’ve shown up.”

“So?”

“So what are you actually mad about, since you’ve known all along?” Enjolras didn’t even wait for Combeferre to answer. “You had a bet going for how long it would be before I came clean.”

He didn’t pitch it as a question, and Combeferre didn’t bother with a denial. “Yeah, and if you’d have held it together for another year, I’d’ve won,” he said sourly. “I took the over on a decade.”

“Do I even want to know how many of you were in on this bet?” Wisely, Combeferre stayed silent and Enjolras groaned and put his head in his hands. “Maybe no one will see it?” he said, a little desperately. “After all, our friends have lives, or at least better things to do than stalk Wikipedia.”

Combeferre made a small noise of dissent. “Has our conversation taught you nothing about underestimating our friends?”

Enjolras just sighed heavily. “Then maybe they’ll go gentle on me.”

“And now I think you’re overestimating our friends.”

— — — — —

By the time of the meeting that night, everyone had seen the Wikipedia page. And seemingly, it was all any of them could talk about.

“Can we all just agree,” Courfeyrac said, with actual tears of mirth running down his face, “that it was a stroke of absolute genius to title a section, ‘Personal Life’ and then leave it as ‘This section is being created, or is in the process of extensive expansion or major restructuring’?”

“Personally, I’m a huge fan of the blind quote they used in the section on his politics,” Bossuet said, grinning.

“Where Enjolras is described as, and I quote, ‘so far left that he’s basically circled back around to authoritarianism’?”

Joly sounded positively gleeful, and Bahorel guffawed loudly. “Isn’t that what that idiot wrote about Enjolras in The Epoch Times?”

“That’s how it made it on the page,” Jehan said helpfully. “There was a news story a few years back about an author who couldn’t get her Wikipedia page updated to reflect her divorce until she stated it in an interview.” Bahorel gave him a look of surprise and Jehan shrugged. “I did some amateur Wikipedia editing back in college.”

Enjolras sighed heavily, staring determinedly at the ceiling. “Can we please,” he said through clenched teeth, “talk about literally anything else?”

Naturally, everyone ignored him. 

“I really feel like we’re overlooking the best part,” Feuilly said. “Which, of course, is the bit where his personality is described as, quote, ‘has many red flags’.”

“The question, of course,” Combeferre interjected for the first time, “is if the page is referring to Enjolras’s collection of physical flags that are red, or his many charming personality traits that many could consider red flags.”

“Traitor,” Enjolras said through clenched teeth.

“I think the real question is whether someone—” Joly didn’t bother with subtlety as he nudged Grantaire while emphasizing the word ‘someone’. “—would consider the amount of red flags to be a red flag.”

Grantaire pretended to consider it. “I can only speak for myself, but I’d call it a beige flag.”

Enjolras ground his teeth together hard enough to make his dentist weep, glaring at Grantaire. “You’ve been awfully quiet until that little quip.” 

Grantaired leaned back in his seat in a somewhat self-satisfied way, raising his beer bottle in a mock toast. “There is such a thing as gilding the lily, and frankly, I’m not sure I could top this.”

“That has literally never stopped you before.”

Grantaire just winked at him, and Enjolras sighed. “Very well,” he said, resignedly, aiming for dignified and falling drastically short. “You all keep having fun at my expense, but if we’re not going to get any work done, I’m going home.”

He gathered his stuff in a huff and marched out with his head held high. At least, that’s what he told himself, though in reality, he probably looked more like a petulant child stomping away from the playground to take his ball and go home.

He had sulked his way about half a block away from the Musain when Grantaire called, “Hey, wait up.”

Enjolras glanced over his shoulder, scowling. “Come to mock me some more?”

“Arguably speaking, we’re all making fun of the Wikipedia page,” Grantaire reasoned as he fell into step next to Enjolras.

Enjolras’s scowl deepened. “Which is clearly making fun of me.”

Grantaire cleared his throat delicately. “If you’d like to count yourself amongst those who take offense to the truth…”

“Asshole,” Enjolras said, but for some reason, his foul mood was lifted, at least slightly.

Grantaire glanced sideways at him. “So, uh, dare I ask why, exactly, a Wikipedia page posting mostly accurate information about you has got a stick so far up your ass you can taste wood?”

Enjolras snorted. “Poetic.”

“I try,” Grantaire said. “But seriously, the reaction does seem a bit over the top. If it was Courf, sure, I’d expect this level of histrionics, but you’re normally a better sport about this sort of thing.”

“That may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me,” Enjolras said mildly.

“Probably because I’m lying, you’re a notorious drama queen and frankly, I’m surprised that little detail didn’t make your Wikipedia page,” Grantaire said cheerfully, and Enjolras couldn’t quite stop his bark of surprised laughter. “That being said, clearly something about it is bothering you, and I figured buttering you up might help.”

Enjolras’s smile faded. “Honestly?” he said. “What I’m most upset about is that it’s about me, with barely a footnote about our work.”

“Right,” Grantaire said. He glanced at Enjolras again. “And naturally, that upsets you because…?”

“Because it’s not about me!” Enjolras burst, his frustration spilling over. “Because it’s never been about me. The whole point of quasi-anonymity is that anyone could be me. Anyone could step into this role and try to change the world.”

Grantaire let out a low whistle. “And you called me poetic,” he said. Enjolras didn’t smile and Grantaire nudged him gently with his elbow. “I think you’re forgetting that while you may have been aiming for anonymity, you’re still an incredibly recognizable figure who hasn’t exactly been camera-shy.”

“Sure, my face may be well known, but not my name, and certainly not my face and my name together,” Enjolras said hotly.

Grantaire was quiet for so long that Enjolras had to look over at him to make sure he was still there. Then, Grantaire shook his head. “The rare valid point,” he said, more to himself than Enjolras.

Enjolras just sighed. As much as he had planned on sulking for the rest of the night, he was finding it more and more difficult with each passing step, as if just venting about it had made it slightly better.

Or maybe that was more about who he’d been venting to.

“Anyway,” he said bracingly, “I’ll get over it, I just need to, you know, feel my feelings.”

“And you’re being very brave about it,” Grantaire assured him. 

Enjolras laughed again. “Well, you can head back to the Musain.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare,” Grantaire said solemnly. “You’re in a fragile state of mind. I better make sure you get home safely.”

Even though Enjolras rolled his eyes, he couldn’t help but smile, just slightly. “You’re missing out on some prime comedy.”

Grantaire winked at him. “You forget,” he said smugly, “I’ve got a phone with 5G and an entire walk to do a dramatic reading.”

Enjolras groaned. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“That’s for me to know and you to spend the rest of your walk worrying about.”

“Asshole,” Enjolras repeated, but he was laughing.

And besides, he suspected Grantaire wasn’t serious.

— — — — —

Over the next few weeks, things with Enjolras’s Wikipedia page took a turn – for the weird.

Despite Enjolras’s multiple attempts to get the page shut down, it continued on its merry way. And worse, it kept being added to by the same anonymous Wikipedia editor who had created it. But bizarrely, while it had originally been mostly accurate, it was quickly becoming flooded with complete bullshit.

Each new edit brought with it a different fabricated detail about Enjolras, some of which were close to the truth (“Enjolras came out publicly via instagram post in the lead-up to the Obergefell ruling” – Enjolras had come out publicly in the tenth grade via Facebook, or, if he was being truly specific, in 2nd Grade when Kaitlyn H. had tried to kiss him and Enjolras had screamed and hidden in the classroom closet), and some of which were just completely wrong (“He wrestled in high school as a heavyweight, weighing in at 250 pounds” and “Described as shorter than average (5’6”) with shoulder-length brown hair, police have been actively searching for Enjolras and his associates for almost a decade”).

Well, that last bit was true, but not so much the description.

Which, based on Enjolras’s now extensive knowledge of Wikipedia’s editing rules, was how whoever was editing his page was getting away with it: by linking to news sources that were also incorrect. For instance, his instagram post had been falsely called his coming out by The Advocate’s round up of notable activists. The story about wrestling was a hilarious mix-up of a picture of Enjolras from a riot with a caption about a high school wrestler in the local paper. 

And so on and so forth – each edit was painstaking in being both false and, somehow, verifiable. Which would have been brilliant if it hadn’t given away the entire game.

Because a few days later, one final falsehood was posted. 

And there was only one other person in the entire world who knew this one.

“Enjolras’s first brush with the law came in high school, when he was charged as a minor in possession of alcohol, but his father allegedly asked the local authorities to drop the charges,” Enjolras said without preamble, brushing past Grantaire into his apartment.

“Normally I’m really good at keeping up with your trains of thought,” Grantaire said mildly, closing the front door. “But I will need some additional context.”

“My MIP,” Enjolras said, glowering at Grantaire. “The one that I told you about in confidence because you had confided in me about your struggles with drugs and alcohol—”

“That’s a very polite way of putting it,” Grantaire said.

Enjolras ignored him. “The one that only you knew about. Somehow it ended up on my Wikipedia page.”

Grantaire looked a little bit like he wanted to bolt out the door he’d just closed. “Combeferre might have found it in your background check,” he said weakly.

“No, because the charges were dismissed, but not because of my father,” Enjolras said impatiently. “Which means the only person it could’ve been was you.”

Grantaire paled but didn’t try to deny it, and Enjolras took a deep breath before saying, “And which means the only question that I have is why.”

“It wasn’t supposed to go live,” Grantaire blurted.

“What?”

Grantaire worried his lower lip between his teeth. “The Wikipedia page. It wasn’t supposed to be published.”

Enjolras blinked. “So it was you.”

Even though he had known it, he hadn’t really reconciled himself with it until hearing it more or less confirmed. Grantaire nodded. “It started as a joke,” he said. “We’d had a fight, I don’t even remember what about, and you said my sources were one rung below Wikipedia. So I figured, y’know, I’d show you what Wikipedia’s sources are like.”

Enjolras opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Which was for the best, since Grantaire barreled onward. “I never actually intended on publishing it, but I clicked the wrong button and didn’t even notice until, well, you did. And at that point, putting the genie back in the bottle was pretty much out of the question.”

“But then—” Enjolras broke off, still struggling to put his thoughts into anything resembling coherence. Of the million questions he had, the only one he could manage was, “Why all the edits?”

Grantaire shrugged. “It occurred to me that I could at least use this accidental platform for some good.”

“And there’s some good in telling the whole world that I’m 5 foot 6, 250 pounds and have shoulder-length brown hair?” Enjolras said dryly.

“I mean…” Grantaire shrugged again. “I figured it may help the FBI in their search for you.”

He said it innocently, and Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “And why the hell would they believe that description?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Grantaire said, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “After all, it’s on Wikipedia.”

Enjolras couldn’t quite stop his own smile as realization hit. “You laid quite the convincing trail of inaccuracies for them.”

Grantaire ducked his head. “Well,” he said, “never let it be said I did nothing for the Cause.”

“For the Cause?”

Grantaire met his eyes, his smile crooked. “For the only cause I believe in, anyway.”

There were a great number of things that Enjolras could say to that, but there was only one thing he wanted to do.

And so he did, closing the space between him and Grantaire, reaching out to tip Grantaire’s chin just slightly upward to kiss him. Grantaire’s hand closed in his shirt, pulling him even closer as his mouth opened against Enjolras’s with a sigh.

Suddenly, Grantaire laughed, his lips curving into a grin against Enjolras’s. “Who knew a fucking Wikipedia page was all it would take,” he said, with something like wonder.

“Please,” Enjolras murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth. “If you’d’ve tried this even six months ago, I would’ve just kicked your ass.”

“So what’s changed?”

So much more than Enjolras could ever articulate, the least of which was that he finally had tangible evidence of just how dedicated Grantaire could be – when it was something he cared about, at least.

But he settled for saying, after kissing Grantaire’s once more, “My height and weight, apparently.”

Grantaire laughed. “Yeah,” he said, “I suppose there is that.”

“By the way?”

“Yeah?” Grantaire said, his voice barely a whisper.

“If I see anything about this on Wikipedia, I really will kick your ass.”

Grantaire just laughed again. “Deal.”

— — — — —

The next day, there was a single addition to the Wikipedia page:

Spouse: Patria (m. 2023)

[thegettingbyp2]

Hi.

I have a request: an imagine or 2 with 2 of Aaron Tveit's characters (mike warren and enjolras).

Different and separate stories. I don't see enough fluff with mike x reader. And enjolras, a lot but nothing new with Aaron's.

Could you write something if eponine had joined les amis? And for mike, let's say his high school sweetheart came to graceland for a visit when she heard the news about mike working there.

Sorry for being long. But thank you.

A/N: Hi! This is the story with Mike Warren, I love Eponine and Enjolras SO much but I only write x reader stories :)

It's Been a While

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You were taking your dog on his daily walk along the beach when you saw someone run towards you. You couldn’t put your finger on it but there was something strangely familiar about him, something that only registered with you once he had run past.

‘Mike!’ you called out subconsciously, making the guy freeze before turning around a frown on your face. It was only then that you’d realised that you’d been right. Standing in front of you was Mike Warren, your High School sweetheart who you hadn’t seen since graduation, just before he left to go for the FBI Academy.

‘(Y/N)?’ he replied, squinting in the sun as he took a couple of steps towards you. The moment he realised it was you, his face broke out into a grin and he closed the remaining distance between you both, picking you up and spinning you around, the both of you laughing when he set you back down. ‘What’s it been? 5 years?’ he asked, the grin not leaving his face as he looked at you.

‘It’s been a while, hasn’t it,’ you replied, grinning back at him. ‘How long have you been in California?’

‘I moved out here about a month ago, I live in that place there,’ he said, pointing to a house sitting directly on the beach. ‘It’s called Graceland.’

‘What? Like Elvis’ house?’ you asked, laughing lightly as you took in the house.

‘Yeah, like Elvis’ house,’ he agreed, rubbing at the back of his neck nervously. ‘Did you want to come and take a look around?’

‘I’d love to,’ you said before you felt a tug on the lead you were holding. ‘Is it okay if I bring him along?’

‘Sure!’ Mike exclaimed, kneeling down to pet the dog, ‘what’s his name?’

‘Miles.’

‘I love that name,’ he said before standing back up and facing you. ‘Are you ready?’

‘Lead the way.’

---

‘This place is amazing,’ you exclaimed, standing in front of the floor to ceiling window that looked out onto the beach. ‘I can’t believe you get to live here!’

‘Perks of being in the FBI,’ Mike joked, walking up to you and handing you a cup of coffee. ‘It’s really good to see you.’

‘Yeah, you too,’ you replied, looking over at him as you took the cup from his hands, wrapping your fingers around it. You looked over to see Miles curled up on the sofa. ‘He looks happy.’

‘He does. Could be a sign that you two should come round here more often.’

‘You’d want that?’

‘Of course I would!’ he said, setting both of your drinks on the side before turning to face you, taking your hands in his. ‘If you think about it, we never actually broke up, I never wanted to, we just, kind of, lost contact. So, if you’d let me, I’d really like to take you out on a date and see if there’s anything still here between us. Because I think there is.’

You looked at him for a few seconds before letting a soft smile grace your lips. Leaning forward you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

‘Yeah, I’d like that too.’

[little-orphan-ant]

Ami name hcs (plus reasoning)

disclaimer a lot of this is just me infodumping about names. i really like names.

Alexandre Enjolras - yeah idk i just stole this from the fandom. Enj despises being called Alex though (he will punch you in the face :D), if you must shorten Alexandre he prefers Andre or Al/Allie

Florian Combeferre - i fucking love this name. according to wikipedia it's a saint name, which im like 80 percent sure was popular Back in the Day, so it works for canon era which im happy abt. in modern day France, the name Florian peaked in 1991 at number 9 for boys before promptly dropping out of the top 500 by 2020 for some reason. but when Ferre was born it would still have been pretty popular.

Olivier Courfeyrac - idk it just fits him. similar to Florian, Olivier was uncommon but not unheard of in canon era, and also dropped out of the top 500 a few years back. however, Olivier peaked back in the early 1970s. although it was still being given to several hundred kids a year by when modern!courf would have been born, i hc that he was named after a relative who died soon before his birth.

Camille Feuilly - in both modern-day and canon era France, Camille is seen as a gender-neutral name, which is great because i hc Feuilly has enby-spec. since Feuilly is an orphan, xe may have named xirself after the revolutionary Camille Desmoulins, but i must admit that I only skimmed his wikipedia page and maybe this Camille was an asshole idk. also i found a French artist born in 1934 named Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot and he's pretty cool ig. painting are nice but not as nice as Gainsborough Dupont's ofc

Jean-Marie "Jehan" Prouvaire - of course, we already know Jehan's name, but I added Marie just bc i can

Corentin Bahorel - if you call Bahorel Cory he with smite you btw (like enj they bond over it). Corentin peaked in France at 21 in 1996, but was also very popular during the Revolutionary Period so. thats good.

Valentin Joly - means 'health', i mostly gave him this name bc Irony. as a kid, Joly went by 'Val' and Bahorel, who knew him as a kid still calls him that. Valentin managed to make it to number 11 in France in 1998, and while uncommon, was in fact a name in canon era (like literally all of these akjddsfsa). also i found a French painter called Valentin de Boulogne from the 1600s who died after taking a dip in a fountain while drunk and freezing to death which. slay.

Louis Lesgles - I mean. i can't give all of them cool names. Bossuet gets to be Louis. his family were royalists and named him after all 17 (?) Louis of Frances. that's one of the reasons he goes by Bossuet, he doesn't want to be associated w a (scoff) king

Claud-René Grantaire - i cannot take credit for this it was @jolys-cane (hello). but yeah Very Good. double thumbs up i'd say. maybe even triple. both Claud(e) and René fell out of favor for boys in france around 1990, so our R would have been born *just* (a decade) to soon for it to be popular (eg not in the top 500). works for canon era as well. R tolerates his name, but Only his family is allowed to call him just René. anyone else must say both.

might do this for non-ami characters sometime (god i hope i didnt forget any of them lkjfksd) idk always love an excuse to talk abt a (minor) hyperfixation

[jesuisserieux]

Prompt 1: Costumes

This is my first fic for the Hoes for Enjolras server's Halloween bingo! It's very soft and silly, just exr being idiots in love but with a Halloween background. I hope people enjoy! You can read it here, or here on ao3. Let me know if you liked it!

Get the Horns

“I look like a goat,” says Enjolras.

“But a very cute goat! Make all the boy goats go WAAAAA!” A silence. Courfeyrac looks between him and Combeferre. “The Princess Diaries 2? Nobody? Okay then.”

“To be honest, I just thought you’d finally lost it,” says Ferre.

“Oh honey, that was years ago.”

Enjolras snorts, “Are you sure this looks right? Like, you’re the fashion expert, but I really do feel like people will think I’m a goat.”

“You’re wearing red,” says Combeferre. “I feel like everyone knows red and horns equals devil.”

Enjolras frowns, “I guess.”

“You don’t have to be a devil,” says Courf, “I just thought it’d be cute if we were matching. Or, not matching. You know what I mean.” He motions to his angel costume.

“Yeah but you have a sparkly halo. No one is going to be confused about your costume. Plus, won’t it be weird if we’re matching and Ferre is just… Luke Skywalker?”

“That was his choice,” says Courf, “I told him he could be an angel with me.”

“That would be weird,” says Ferre, “One devil, two angels? Makes no sense. Plus, I promised Musichetta I would do the Skywalkers twins with her like, nine months ago.”

“I guess until we meet up with everyone we can just say we’re the devil and the angel on your shoulders.”

“The Jedi and the Sith,” suggests Enjolras.

Ferre and Courf say “Nerd,” in perfect unison, even though this is obviously hypocrisy of the highest order.

He scoffs, “Whatever, are we ready to go now?”

“Oh so now you want to go to the party?” teases Courf. “I wonder what changed…”

“I still don’t want to go to the party. But you talked me into it, so I’m at least going to be on time.”

“It’s not because R said he could come after all?” Ferre raises a skeptical eyebrow.

Enjolras shoots him a betrayed look. “I already agreed to go before he said that.”

“Yeah but you weren’t nearly as eager, before.”

“Your face is the same color as your costume,” says Courf, looking at him in the mirror as he applies mascara.

“Are we going or not?” Enjolras pretends to be looking at something on his phone, to hide his face.

Courf snorts, “Nice subject change. Subtle. But sure, I’m done with my makeup, let’s head out.” He straightens up, and in his heels, he’s face level with Enjolras.

“It’s weird to see you at this angle,” he says.

“Oh fuck off,” says Courf lightheartedly.

“You’re both still short to me,” says Combeferre.

Enjolras protests, “You’re like, three inches taller than me.”

“Four.”

“Oh my god.”

“Okay!” interjects Courf, “let’s go.”

~

The party, when they get there, is in full swing. It’s not the loudest party ever- Enjolras and Combeferre wouldn’t have come if it was- but the bass is still loud enough, that they have to get close to yelling to be heard. Enjolras isn’t actually sure whose house this is. Presumably, somebody Courf knows, but that doesn’t narrow it down a lot. Whoever it was, they went all out on decorations. There are fake spider webs and skeletons everywhere, and everything is bathed in slime green light.

Courf gets them each a cup of punch from a bowl that looks like a cauldron. He takes a sip from his own cup and winces. “Don’t drink that fast, it’s sweet but it’s strong as fuck.”

Enjolras really hadn’t been planning on getting drunk in the first place, so he just nods and takes a sip. Goddamn. Courf wasn’t kidding. “What the fuck is in this?”

“What isn’t?” says someone from behind him. He turns around to see Grantaire, only a few inches away from him and looking way too hot, despite being dressed as-

“What are you?” he asks, taking in the fishnets, the makeup, the lampshade under one arm-”

“Oh!” R takes the lampshade and perches it on top of his head, “I’m a sexy lamp.”

The unfortunate thing is that any costume Grantaire wears would be sexy in Enjolras’s opinion. Including a fucking lamp.

“You’re something all right,” says Combeferre, saving Enjolras the embarrassment of saying any of that out loud.

“What the fuck are you supposed to be?” asks R. I can tell with these two but how does yours connect?”

“It doesn’t. I’m Luke Skywalker. Musichetta is Leia.”

“We would have included him,” says Courf, “but apparently he and Chetta planned this months ago. So now we just look like we’re excluding him.” Ferre scoffs. “We do! Everyone is going to think we’re terrible best friends, and we left you out of our Halloween costume.”

“I don’t think anyone here is sober enough to think that,” says R.

Enjolras searches his brain frantically for something clever to say in response, but he comes up empty, still too preoccupied by Grantaire, and more specifically, Grantaire’s legs in fishnets.

“You good Apollo?” asks R, “I didn’t think the punch was that strong.”

Enjolras blinks. He’s just been staring into space. This is why he doesn’t go out. “Sorry! I’m good. Just… spaced out.”

“Can’t take you anywhere,” says Courf affectionately. He ruffles Enjolras’s hair, and Enjolras smacks his hand away. He looks to Ferre for support but he’s already making his way across the room to Musichetta, who’s brandishing a lightsaber.

“You fucked up his horns,” R says Courfeyrac. He reaches out to fix them, his hands rearranging Enjolras’s hair.

“I’ll see you guys later,” says Courf, not even pretending to have an excuse for leaving. Enjolras can’t even say anything as he leaves, because his brain is devoid of words on account of R touching him.

“There,” says R, tucking some hair behind his ear, “all good.”

“Thanks.” His mouth is so dry.

“So did Courf choose the costume?”

“Uh… yes! Yeah. I think I look like a goat.” He tries not to outwardly wince listening to himself.

Luckily, Grantaire seems to find it funny, thank god. He laughs loudly and gives Enjolras a skeptical onceover. “Why on earth would anyone think you were a goat, Apollo?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know. Horns.” He can feel his face heat up. “I’m not wearing red face paint.”

“Even so, why would they assume ‘goat’ instead of ‘devil’ for a Halloween costume?”

“Well when you put it like that it sounds stupid…”

R laughs again. “You’re such a weirdo.” It’s said so affectionately, Enjolras can’t meet his eyes.

“You’re the one dressed as a sexy lamp,” he mumbles in the direction of his shoes.

“Touche,” says R. There’s an awkward silence. Enjolras takes another sip of his incredibly strong punch for lack of anything better to do. “You wince every time you take a sip of that,” notes R.

“It tastes like windex mixed with juice.”

“You’re probably not that far off. Here,” R takes the cup from him and sets it down. “They have ciders in the fridge, that seems more your speed.” Absentmindedly, R grabs his wrist to pull him through the crowd of people. Enjolras is going to combust.

The kitchen is brighter and quieter thank god, although the light means Grantaire can see how red his face is.

“You okay?” he asks, as he hands Enjolras some rose cider drink from the fridge.

“Huh? Yeah good.” Grantaire smirks. The bottle feels good on his warm face.

“You sure you’re not drunk already?” asks R.

“From two sips of punch? Even I’m not that much of a lightweight.”

“No?” R puts a hand to his face, “You’re really warm.” He can probably feel Enjolras’s heartbeat in his fucking forehead with how fast it’s going. He looks down, hoping R won’t see the flush creeping up his ears. Being this pale is a curse. “Apollo?” R taps his cheek and he looks up reflexively. He’s so close.

“I’m fine! Just- nervous.” He wants to melt into the kitchen floor. Why would he say that! Literally anything else would be better, now R’s going to ask why he’s nervous and he’s not going to have a good answer besides it’s really hard not to stare at your mouth right now.

“Nervous?”

“Yeah. I mean you- this- uh, just isn’t my scene. Parties. You know?” Oh god he needs to find a way out of this conversation before he keeps talking.

“Do I make you nervous, Apollo?” asks R in a tone that seems half joking half- flirtatious? That’s probably wishful thinking on his part.

“Uh-” he opens his mouth but only a few nonsense syllables come out. He shuts it again, tries desperately to think of something cool and funny to say. It’s taking too long. Oh god it’s taking too long why can’t he say something?”

“It’s okay,” says R, “you’re cute when you’re flustered.” Hang on what? “Plus, people will definitely know what your costume is.” He pats Enjolras’s burning cheek. “You don’t even need red face paint.” He looks far too proud of that little quip as he slips back out of the kitchen. Enjolras doesn’t even attempt to say anything. It’s just static up there anyway. Courf was right earlier, his face does, in fact, match his costume.

[whump-card]

Forged Divinity Unnamed Sequel: Chapter 4

CW: memory issues, past TBI, guilt

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~~~

“You smell like death,” Shannon had said eventually, once she was all cried out and she could breathe again, “Both of you do.”

Leannan had opened his mouth to tell her why, but he couldn’t find it.

Now they stood in the Longhouse bathroom, the walls lined with shower and toilet stalls. The lights above were bright, and stung Leannan’s eyes, so he kept his gaze on the concrete floor.

Shannon and Enjolras were talking. It didn’t feel important. Leannan was just tired. There was a bench in the center of the room, so he sat on it, but as soon as he did Shannon was lifting him back up again, ducking her head to put her face in Leannan’s line of sight.

“Do you need any help in the shower?”

Help? In the shower? Like Leannan was some kind of useless idiot who didn’t know how to bathe himself? Sure, maybe he’d needed some help right after he’d gotten hit in the head but that was back then, he was better now!

“No!” he snapped, “Don’t touch me!”

Shannon’s eyes widened and her hands retreated to clasp against her chest.

“Oh, okay. Well, there’s soap, and linens right here,” she patted a small pile of items on the bench, “Just call for me if you need anything, okay?”

Her body language and soft tone made Leannan cringe. He’d scared her. His vision blurred with tears, welling up just as fast as the anger had.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…” His hand went to his left temple, and the raised scar there.

“It’s okay,” Shannon said softly, “I know. Just take a shower, okay?”

Leannan was alone in the bathroom. He didn’t remember Shannon leaving.

He was tired. He sat on the bench.

Maybe, once he was clean, Killia would brush his hair. Or Phineas. Yes, They’d sit in a big bed together and Phineas would brush his hair. Everything would be fine. They’d eat dried apples, and it wouldn’t be too hot. They’d walk along the – they’d go walking, somewhere nice. Phineas would kiss him and tell him how good he was -

“Leannan! Leannan!”

Leannan jumped, ripped out of his head. “Huh?”

Shannon was staring at him.

“Oh, Leannan, you scared me!” she sniffled, pressing her hands to her mouth.

What did he do to scare her this time? He didn’t remember.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Let’s just get you in the shower, okay?” Shannon took his hands, crouching in front of him, “Do you… do you want me to talk you through it?”

Leannan looked over at the little bar of soap, sitting on top of the washcloth and the bathtowel.

You’re fucking stupid now, you know that? You too stupid to know you’re stupid? Huh?

“Mhm,” he nodded.

“Okay,” Shannon’s voice wavered, “Okay, let’s stand up first.”

They stood up together, and Shannon picked up the soap and linens and put them in Leannan’s hands. Then she guided him over to a shower stall, ushering him in with a gentle hand on his back before closing the door between them.

Leannan looked around. There was a shower head against the back wall, and a little shelf beneath it. There was a hook on the door behind him.

Something in his head put together the pieces.

“I can do it myself,” he said, setting the soap and washcloth on the shelf before hanging the towel on the hook.

“Okay,” Shannon didn’t sound so sure, “But can you talk to me? While you do it?”

“Yeah,” Leannan nodded even though she couldn’t see him, “I can do that.”

He stepped up to the shower lever.

“I’m… turning the water on,” he said.

“Leannan, did you get undressed?”

Had he?

Leannan looked down at his ragged clothes, still on him. He was barefoot.

“Where are my boots?” he worried aloud.

“We’ll get you new shoes, don’t worry about it,” Shannon said, “You need to get undressed to shower, Leannan, can you do that?”

“Shower?” Leannan looked around. Since when did the shower room have stalls?

“Do,” the person outside the door took a breath, “Do you need me to come in and help you?”

“No,” Leannan said quickly, “No, I don’t want that.”

“That’s okay,” said the person, “But you need to get undressed if you’re going to take a shower, right?”

“Mm. Um. Yeah.” Leannan slowly pulled off his shirt, dropping it to the floor, then loosened the drawstring on his pants and let them drop, kicking then to join the shirt.

He hear the person outside breathe a sigh of relief.

Oh, right. Shannon.

~~~

After Shannon had spent several minutes assuring her that she could handle Leannan on her own, Enjolras trudged down the Longhouse hallway to the room she shared with Jeanette – a room she hadn’t slept in for weeks. She opened the door carefully, silently, but was surprised to find the light on and Jeanette sitting up with a book.

Jeanette had changed since she first arrived on Goat Island. With a steady diet of food she could actually digest properly, she’d gained weight; her cheeks were now plump and round, her midsection soft – a far cry from the near skeleton she’d been when she arrived.

She looked up at Enjolras, eyes bright and cool.

“You didn’t come see him,” Enjolras stated, passing no judgment.

“I knew if I did, I wouldn’t be able to leave him,” she delicately placed a bookmark in her book and set it aside, “And once I heard that he… that something was wrong,” she paused, “He has everyone here to look after him. But I knew that you’d need me. And that no one would be looking after you.”

Enjolras shook her head.

“I’m fine. He needs so much help, Jeanette…”

“Just come here.” Jeanette patted the bed next to her.

Enjolras kicked off her boots.

“None of this would have happened if I had found him sooner,” she muttered.

“Come here,” Jeanette echoed, holding out her arms.

Enjolras crawled into bed next to her.

“None of it – if I had…”

Suddenly Enjolras was sobbing, pressing her hands over her face, the weight of the last year – no, the last thirteen years – finally catching up with her.

“I should have found him sooner!”

Jeanette wrapped her arms around her, pulling Enjolras’ head to rest on her chest.

“You did everything you could. You’ve always been doing everything you could.”

“But I should have found him sooner!” Enjolras cried, “I should have found him sooner this time, and I should have found him sooner last time! And we should have – we should have raided Iowa City sooner, before he was ever sold in the first place!”

“There would have just been another one, before him,” Jeanette whispered, “You did everything. You saved so many people. And you did save Leannan, even if he’s hurt.”

“Jeanie, you don’t understand,” croaked Enjolras,

“I don’t think he’s going to get better.”

~~~

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Taglist: @angst-after-dark, @sunshiline-writes, @flowersarefreetherapy, @thecyrulik

[syrupsyche]

enjolras 🏳️‍🌈🍫😬

🏳️‍🌈 a sexuality headcanon

>>>> Aroace Enjolras truther right here <<<<; sure, I might be projecting a liiiiiittle bit, and of course I'm an avid enjoyer of asexual/aromantic/demisexual/gay Enjolras, but the vision of him that camps out in my brain is aroace for sure. He loves his friends and he loves his country and that's enough! That's more than enough! :D

🍫 headcanon about food

I don't know why but all I can think about is that time Markiplier once said he only recently learned to enjoy how food tastes because all his life he's never chewed them properly, he just sort of swallows it whole. Yeah, that's Enjolras; food is just sustenance to him. Hopefully in a happier time (post-barricade survival AU or modern AU) he gets strapped down to a chair and forced to actually taste what he's eating. I think if he did that, he would figure out that he's actually got a pretty sweet tooth.

😬 headcanon about the worst thing they've done

Other than canonically killing people....I think he would be the type of guy to constantly go no-contact from everyone, to the point where the Amis would start to get seriously concerned for him. To Enjolras, he's simply just hyperfixating on a task and gets irritated as to why people keep trying to disturb him, but after a stern talking-to from his friends about how that scares them (especially if he goes no-contact immediately after a protest/riot), he at least lets them know in advance when he'll be going off the grid. Honestly, not the /worst/ thing he could be doing (though certainly not the healthiest) but really, nothing can beat murder, so.

thank you for the ask!! :D and dw I see ur other ask Kitty, I'm currently working on it 👀