#✿ got some bite (gavroche)

[the-herdier]

Imagine: Cuno as Gavroche in a Les Mis AU

[agentsnickers]

they've got some bite

Here's the thing: Grantaire worries. or: Gavroche doesn't need a parent, but he does need someone.

anyway hi here is that fic i mentioned "maybe" writing, because as we all know i am physically incapable of not writing an idea i talk about

i am tentatively dipping my toe into the les misérables fandom after seeing the show live for the first time last weekend and being unable to think about anything else since. i am hoping somebody actually reads this, but if they don't at least i've gotten it out of my fingers lol

[wanderinghedgehog]

Another High School Les Mis

Live reaction:

This seems pretty well filmed

Holy soprano, Batman! That was one hell of a prisoner solo

This Valjean is already doing the most. I have a good feeling about this guy. For some reason, he’s allowed to wander all over the stage during this scene and he’s very confrontational with Javert. These two things together kinda diminish the oppressive vibe the scene usually has.

I drink from the orchestra pit. How clean the taste.

The lighting design is fun so far

This Valjean is phenomenal. He hasn’t even done a big solo number yet. It’s just his acting that’s so amazing to me.

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD THIS GUYYYYYY!!! He just knows exactly when to turn up the intensity and when to be more subtle. Get this kid a Tony NOW!

There seems to be an audio issue for a minute there

It seems like some ensemble members have mics and some don’t. Pretty standard for school productions.

This staging is very weird. Aside from the audio troubles, I can’t find Fantine. I can’t tell who’s singing because of how evenly distributed the crowd onstage is. She needs to stands apart (ideally downstage)

I love how kids who play the foreman often like to sound all gravely. It doesn’t actually make them sound more tough, but it’s a nice touch and I like it.

Oh this is a no swearing version. “I might have known the witch could bite.” Okay.

This Fantine is really good so far. I feel kinda bad for the actress because the track for her song is going weirdly fast. Give my girl some time!

This production would definitely be better if they made whoever was singing actually noticeable to the audience. I don’t know who I’m meant to look at in these ensemble scenes.

This Fantine seems to be struggling with her high notes. No judgment though. It’s a difficult singing role. I also like this girl’s acting, so I wanna be nice :)

Her short hair doesn’t look terrible. Nice.

The man who recruits Fantine is a woman in this production. Not sure if this was a choice or if they were running low on male actors.

Some little kid in the audience just went “yay!”

This Bamatabois is looking a little plain. I’d appreciate some pizzazz that marks him as bourgeois.

I’ve seen some awkward staging of the scratch bit. This wasn’t too bad.

Javert in red? Slay I guess.

He’s a little monotone. Let’s hope he gets more energy later.

This Valjean is really willing to get right up in Javert’s face. Don’t mess with Monsieur le Maire.

Poor Fauchelevent is so distraught. Save him!

The lighting needs to chill out a little you can barely see that he lifted the cart. It’s just a bit too dark.

This track is too fast! Javert just had to combine a ton of lines and barely got any of the tone through. I missed “forgive me sir I would not dare.”

This Javert is kinda funny. He keeps looking at the ground instead of at Valjean. Are you shy, dude?

I wish the lighting was better at the end of Who Am I. Another stellar performance from Valjean.

Fantine’s death was a little bit awkward. Both actors did a very good job, but the staging was weird.

Who let this Javert actor pronounce the n in Monsieur? Who let that happen?

LOW NOTE TIME

CONFRONTATION SWORD FIGHT????? I have no clue who would come up with that, but I suppose I’m entertained.

WHAT HAPPENED? WHAT WAS THAT? Javert down! I have no clue what just happened. It was too dark to see.

And then no final fight? Nothing? You can’t even see Javert for the last bit. He’s just some voice in the shadows.

So far, this is a good Madame T

That was… an interesting line change in Master of the House. Are they not allowed to say Jesus or something?

Nevermind. He just said Jesus. Why change the other lines then?

Not the shushing instead of swearing. This is just funny.

Well, they let her say bastard.

This Thenardier couple is pretty funny

This Gavroche could use some energy. Come on kid! Long live us!

I’ve got a good feeling about this Eponine

COSETTE

Toy soldier Javert seems to have grown a spine. Goddamn.

I repeat. GODDAMN.

Go toy soldier go!

Oops line mixup. But he recovered!

This Eponine is such a good singer. I’m in love with her voice.

Short king Grantaire

Do You Hear the People Sing was so fun

COSETTE

Weird staging thing. Valjean’s verse of In My Life gets messed with because Cosette has to climb down from this little balcony to talk to him

Wow you can see how he’s trying to let her down gently, but it’s clear that he just does not want to talk about this. Truly getting that sad old man vibe.

This Marius and Cosette actually have good chemistry. They’re really selling this.

HARMONIES

This Valjean can literally just walk onstage and I start crying. Oh my gooooood

Why did the lights get turned off on them?

ONE DAY MORE

Toy soldier does not know his lines very well…

Act 1 ends and I am Screaming! I love this so much!

Toy soldier hitting those high notes. Also, his barricade disguise makes him look like a beatnik.

Eponine in the audience is quite a choice. I think I like it.

I’m just noticing the tape markers on the ground. They’re glow in the dark. Like little stars on the floor. I’m getting too sentimental about this production.

EPONIIIIIINE!!!! Maybe Marius doesn’t love you, but I do! I love you!

Not having the “shoot me now or shoot me later” verse is so funny. Toy soldier is just sitting there.

They are really trying their best to fake this battle scene.

Where is he? The sound quality just got weird. Did they turn his mic off? Toy soldier, did they put you in a closet or something?

Where are both of them? What’s happening?

Guys are you in the back rooms? What is this location?

TOY SOLDIER! This is brilliant. Thank god he actually turned up the intensity here.

Marius singing about Cosette but like. Her dad is right next to you dude. Awkward.

This fucking high schooler singing “but I am old and will be gone” and I believe him!

Gavroche’s death is staged kinda strangely. Like I see the vision but I don’t know if it worked.

They seem to have combined some scenes after the final battle. This is weird but I wanna see where they take it.

Can’t really see much of Valjean carrying Marius around. They turned the lights off for a set change I think.

Goodbye, toy soldier.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned yet how good this Marius is. Great voice.

Did I not notice the old age makeup on Valjean before or is that new?

DONT YOU PUSH COSETTE

I have no more thoughts. Just sad.

FINALE YESSSSSSS

Final impressions:

AAAAA THIS WAS SO AMAZING

This high school drama club should know that I am now their #1 fan

Valjean was definitely my favorite. That was a phenomenal performance that I honestly prefer to some more professional actors I’ve seen.

Javert took a bit to get good, but by the end, he had really grown on me. I have no idea when I started calling him toy soldier, but it’s a fun nickname so whatever.

Some other standout performances were Eponine and Cosette. What amazing voices those girls have. They really made their characters come alive.

There was the problem of the lighting being too dim. I wished I could see more of what was happening, but it was in shadow.

I got so attached to this cast and this production. If people are interested, I might post the link to it because these kids did a fantastic job.

[cloud-makers-make-pollution]

OH YEAH

WELL UHHH

GAVROCHE IS DEAD TOO

SO TAKE THAT

OK HOLD UP WHO ARE YOU AND WHY DO YOU WANT TO CAUSE ME PAIN

DONT ABUSE MY FEELINGS WITH THE LITTLE KID HES SO PRECIOUS

YOU SURE AS HELL AINT @unhingedyetstillhere BECAUSE SHE CANT FUCKING SPELL SO

WAIT LEYLA IS IT YOU

IF IT IS IM COMING AFTER YOU

WHY INSIST ON MAKING ME CRY MORE POOR GAVROCHE

AND HIS SONG GOT CUT TOO ITS VERY SAD

He’s only a little person 😭

and the little people know when little people fight

they may look easy pickings but they’ve got some bite

so never kick a dog

because it’s just a pup

they’ll fight like 20 armies and they won’t give up (accurate but unfortunate a failure)

so you’d better run for cover when the pup

grows

…..

HE DOESNT FINISH IT BECAUSE HE DOESNT GET TO GROW UP HE JUST GOT SHOT AND DIED OK SO THE PUP DIDNT GROW UP BECAUSE HE FUCKING DIEEEDD

[for-the-love-of-javert]

Les Miserables 1925 Part 4 - Gavroche (Charles Badiole) is killed at the barricade

A little light went out for me at this moment but once again I found myself quietly singing Gavroche's dying words from the musical

And little people know, When little people fight, We may look easy pickings But we've got some bite!

So never kick a dog Because he's just a pup

We'll fight like twenty armies And we won't give up.

So you'd better run for cover When the pup grows ......................

[briannawhiteme]

I recently watched the 25th Anniversary Concert version and film version of Les Miserables and have been listening to the Complete 3-disk Philharmonic Recording that I bought at a thrift store for $1.

Les Mis shocked me when I first watched it that the story doesn't fit a classic tragedy. The "breeding pair" (as my college Shakespeare/Renaissance Literature prof called them) survive and are paired together to be fruitful and multiply.

While I was listening to the soundtrack on my way home yesterday and again today (as one does), it hit me that there's a secondary reason it's not a tragedy. All of the main characters achieve their goals. Please keep in mind that I'm going based on the musical, as I have not read the novel or watched any of the other.

Jean Valjean

Valjean has two goals in the narrative.

1. He wants to be free.

2. He wants to make up for his transgressions by fulfilling his promise to Fantine of taking care of Cosette and ensuring that she "will want for nothing."

By the end of the musical, Valjean dies a free man no longer on the run from Javert. His adopted daughter, Cosette, is happily married to Maria's, a rich, moral, young man who adores her and will make sure she is taken care, and she and her husband love and respect him, even after hearing his backstory.

Cosette

Cosette takes after her father and also has two goals.

1. She wants to know the truth about her father's and her own pasts.

2. She wants to no longer be lonely.

By the end of the musical, her father shares with her their backstories, and she is no longer lonely after marrying Marius who adores her and wants to spend the rest of their days together.

Fantine

Fantine wants:

1. Cosette, her daughter, to be taken care of

Even her own death is foreshadowed, she begs God to kill her if that means that Cosette, who she was told is ill, survives. The deal is taken. She dies, but her death is what makes Valjean feel guilty, forcing him to find and adopt Cosette. She also sings that she will see Cosette when she wakes, and at the end of the musical, as Valjean dies, Fantine returns from the dead, seeing her daughter again as she leads Valjean to Heaven.

Javert

Despite how often he talks about capturing Valjean, in his big song Stars, he doesn't mention Valjean once. Javert's goal is:

1. To be like the stars and fulfill his purpose in the universe.

While it's on a meta-level, he does so. Javert is consistently the reason the narrative moves forward and when he no longer is able to fulfill his purpose, he "falls" as he describes the stars doing when they are no longer able to fulfill their purpose.

Marius

Marius is interesting when he sings because he never truly states a want other than being with Cosette. He makes requests of other characters and describes how he feels in the moment, but he doesn't truly show unhappiness with his situation. If I had to say what his goal is, then I'd say he wants to belong, to be a part of something. He first has this belonging from being one of the barricade boys, but by the end, he has found the sense of belonging he wants from being with Cosette.

Eponine

Eponine wants:

1. Marius to love her, to be beside her, to show her that he cares for her.

In A Little Fall of Rain, Eponine gets the one thing she's always wanted. Marius is not thinking about the Revolution, or pining for Cosette, or calling her a tease. Marius holds her and tells her he cares about her as she dies in his arms. Then he goes into battle the next day with her name on his lips.

Gavroche

Gavroche is a literal child and also the smartest, most competent character in the musical. I won't hear arguments on this fact.

He wants:

1. To be a part of the revolution and show his worth to the barricade boys.

He does, repeatedly. He's the one who tells them that General LeMarque is dead, that they can't trust the Thenardiers, and that Javert is a spy.

As he tells Javert after outing him as a spy and police inspector:

"And little people know

When little people fight

We may look easy pickings

But we've got some bite"

Gavroche is not just some little kid or Dickensian orphan waif that lets the world push him around. He bares his teeth and fights back until he dies in battle.

The Thenardiers

The Thenardiers want:

1. Cash

2. No repercussions for their actions

They get what they want. They get paid by Fantine for 'caring' for Cosette; they get paid by Valjean so that he can take Cosette away; and they get paid by Marius to go away when they show up at his and Cosette's wedding. They are never punished by the narrative in a way that matters to them. They are never arrested, and they never lose their meager wealth. They are bolder and more well off every time the audience sees them.

In their own words:

"Clear away the barricades, and we're still there! / We know where the wind is blowing / Money is the stuff we smell"

This line is especially hard to stomach because Eponine, their own daughter, was killed at the barricade (and Gavroche, a child, who is their son in the novel).

In the game of life, despite being horrible people, the Thenardiers, the "beggars at the feast," win again and again.

The Barracade Boys

As a collective, they want:

1. Their "little lives" to mean something. They want to take a stand and have an impact on the world.

They do. The revolution lead by the Barracade Boys changes the futures of every other character in the play, and, on a meta-level, we know that modern day, democratic France was created by the actions of revolutionaries like them. Yes, they die, but they all repeat several times that they do not mind dying in battle.

[juanjoltaire]

OKAY so can I like show y’all this draft that has been sitting around since 2014?? 7 friggin years??? This is Les Mis Zombie AU if it isn’t too obvious lol. I love this piece...wip....idea? But considering it’s been 7 years I’m terrified I’m never going to finish this illustration. So I’m sort of trying to like get my hopes up that I can get some encouragement to keep going if people enjoy the idea. (If you hate the idea, I’m sorry).

Look though, let me show you around. We’ve obviously got Enjolras hitting the guard with the butt of his gun...below that we’ve got a zombified Gavroche who has already gone to the other size of the barricade and now coming back up again (Zombie AU is a completely different reason to have a barricade, you see.) Then on the bottom right we’ve got Eponine showing Marius that she’s gotten a bite on her wrist and she’s about to turn. And then above that, we’ve got Grantaire hitting a zombie Bahorel (the first Amis to die in the book) with a bottle.

Anyway I hope y’all like this sketch because I still do! My secret dream is to finish this drawing some day.

[suituuup]

comme une idylle

Beca gets an odd request from a stranger while in Paris

rating: G

word count: 2801

happy birthday @green-eyed-weirdo​  🥰 I hope you like it!

moodboard and beta by the lovely @snowonebutyou

ao3 link

*

“Dude, is this really necessary?”

Stacie hums. “It’s French fashion.”

Beca rolls her eyes. “I feel like if that were true, we would have seen some people wearing it by now. This just screams ‘I’m an American tourist’ to me.”

Stacie ignores her, adjusting the beret over her head as she stands in front of the mirror. “I think I look sexy with this. Very… chic.”

“Great. If you decide to walk around with that and a baguette under your arm I’m going solo on our tour.”

Stacie plucks another beret from the shelf and screws it over Beca’s head. “Aw, you look like Gavroche.”

“Fuck you, dude,” Beca mutters, taking it off and flattening her hair with her palm as she places the hat back in its initial spot. “I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry,” Stacie points out, and Beca can’t really contradict her.

Once Stacie has finally picked one of those ridiculous hats, they head up the cobblestone street and find themselves a brasserie (one of those restaurants where you can get just a drink or have a full meal) for lunch. It’s pretty hot (a bit too hot for Beca’s taste, but she’s hopefully applied enough sunscreen not to resemble a lobster by the end of the day) in Paris that day, but they find shelter under one of those huge parasols, a gentle breeze sweeping in ever so often as they gaze at the food options.

Melodic giggles draw Beca’s focus away from the badly translated menu and towards two tables over to her left. They belong to a redhead, who just happens to be as radiant as her laughter, and Beca finds herself staring a beat too long, catching Stacie’s attention.

“She’s cute.”

Beca’s cheeks heat up as soon as she realizes she’s been caught, and she looks back at her menu so quickly something in her neck twitches. She clears her throat. “What are you talking about?”

“Aww, you adorable baby bisexual. You should go talk to her. Or buy her a drink.”

“Dude, no,” Beca hisses.

Stacie is silent for a few beats, clearly listening in. “She’s American.”

Beca makes a noncommittal sound. “And?”

Stacie leans over, a smirk curving her lips. “Imagine how romantic it would be, you two meeting in Paris and finding each other again in the States. That’s Nicholas Sparks shit right here.”

Beca finds Stacie’s eyes over the menu. “You seem to have forgotten a slight detail: I don’t know how to talk to women.”

Stacie’s eyes roll skyward. “Maybe you should try.”

The waiter thankfully puts a temporary end to the conversation, and once he’s gone with their orders, Beca sees that so is the redhead and her friend.

“Well, there goes your Parisian romance,” Stacie says, sighing softly.

Beca doesn’t really think about the stranger again, not until the end of the day. Stacie insists on heading to the Eiffel Tower to catch the sunset (and probably take a bunch of pictures for her influencer Instagram account), and Beca ignores her aching feet, feeling like she’s already been complaining a lot today.

“Hi there.”

Beca twists her head to the left to find the stranger from the cafe. Her blue eyes nearly make her stumble. “Um, hi?”

“So this might sound really weird, but I’ve always wanted a romantic picture in front of the Eiffel Tower and my boyfriend just dumped me before this trip and well, I was wondering if you’d pose with me?”

That’s a lot of information in five seconds, and Beca blinks twice in slow succession. “Pose, as in…?”

“As in, kiss me?”

She hears Stacie gasp beside her and doesn’t even want to spare her a glance. Her ears feel like they just caught on fire and her voice is nowhere to be found.

It’s only when Stacie jabs her elbow into her ribs that Beca says something. “I, uh, I-- what?”

Well, close to saying something.

The other woman giggles. “You’re really cute. And I asked if you’d like to take a photo with me.”

“Kissing,” Beca echoes, just to make sure.

The redhead grimaces. “Sorry, you’re totes creeped out. I’ll find someone else.”

“She’ll do it,” Stacie announces before Beca can say anything else.

“What, dude,” Beca interjects.

“If you don’t I will,” Stacie mutters, and that shoves Beca into motion.

“Um yeah, sure,” she tells the stranger. A shaky nod. “I’ll do it.”

“Awes!” She hands Stacie her phone. “My friend Aubrey can take the pic.”

Beca notices the blonde standing off to the side and waves awkwardly before her friend slides her hand into hers and tugs her forward. Beca’s heart starts to race a little as they come to a stop at the top of the stairs splaying out over the Trocadero gardens.

“Wait, what’s your name?” The stranger asks, seemingly as an afterthought.

“Um, Beca,” Beca says.

“Nice to meet you, Beca. I’m Chloe.”

Beca nods, tongue poking out to wet her lips. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool. So um,” she wipes her hands over her jeans. “How should we…”

“I’ll just kiss you now,” Chloe says, amusement clear in her tone.

Beca wants to dig herself a hole. But that thought vanishes as soon as Chloe starts leaning in, and her eyes slam shut the moment those soft, full lips brush against hers in a gentle kiss. She hears herself humming as her head tilts forward to chase the remaining distance between them, pushing a firmer kiss against Chloe’s mouth. It’s Chloe’s turn to make a sound this time, and Beca nearly forgets her own name.

She instantly forgets about the photo, and the fact that Chloe is a stranger, too caught up in how good this feels to really care. She does, however, come to her senses when she starts to lack oxygen and pulls away with a sheepish smile, her cheeks flaming.

“Damn…” Chloe murmurs, eyes alight. “I picked well.”

Beca clears her throat and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, avoiding her eyes. “Glad I could be of service,” she mumbles with an awkward salute.

(yes, yes, a goddamn salute because she’s a fucking dork.)

Chloe giggles and Beca suddenly feels high on the sound. “Too bad my friend and I have to leave tonight. I could have definitely gone for an encore performance.”

Beca isn’t sure how redder her face can get before it matches the shade of her plaid shirt. “That’s uh, too bad.”

“Well thanks for doing it for me,” Chloe says with a wink, then kisses her cheek. “Bye, Beca.”

“Bye,” Beca murmurs, somewhat still in a kiss-induced daze as she watches her go.

“Holy crap, dude,” Stacie says when she catches up with her. “You totally made out with her.”

Beca chuckles, rubbing the back of her neck. “We um, got carried away?”

Stacie punches her arm. “Tell me you got her number.”

Beca shakes her head. “She probably lives like, in LA or something.”

“Oh my god, you’re such an idiot.”

Beca has to agree; she’s the biggest idiot in the world.

The rest of their trip goes smoothly. Beca only has to listen to Stacie having sex once, which is a wonder, considering it’s Stacie, and the two fly back to New York at the end of the week, heads filled with good memories of their trip abroad.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t ask for her number,” Stacie says as they walk out of the arrival gate at JFK.

“Oh my god, would you let it go?” Beca groans, tilting her head back.

“She was so hot.”

“I know,” Beca whines. “But I won’t find her again so let’s just not talk about it anymore.”

“Fine.”

It’s a few days later, as she’s aimlessly scrolling through TikTok as she does every night before bed, that Beca sees it. She almost scrolls past it because ugh, couples, but the yellow summer dress and red hair catch her attention and have her sitting up with a jolt. Her breathes hitches in her throat as she reads the caption:

I hope this cute girl I met in Paris and asked for a pic of us kissing so I could pretend I had a romantic time in France sees this so I can take her out on a date

The video blew up, counting over a million likes and fifteen thousand comments. Her trembling thumb presses on the comment section.

Okay, TikTok, do your thing, we need to find this girl!!

Omg they’re so cute

Imagine they find each other!!

Beca swallows, licking her suddenly dry lips. “Imagine…” she breathes out as she presses on Chloe’s profile picture, hits follow, and then taps Message.

Hey, so… it’s Beca. The girl from Paris?

She locks her phone right after hitting send and buries her face in her palms, emitting a low groan. Her phone pinging less than a minute later makes her heart pound against her ribs. She reaches for it and peeks at the screen with one eye.

omg, hi!! it’s really you?

She figures maybe a few people have sent Chloe a message because hello, who wouldn’t, pretending it was her. So Beca thinks proving it is really her could be a good thing.

If by me you mean the dork who freaking saluted you after our kiss, yep that’s me.

Beca bites down on her bottom lip as she watches the three dots pop up on the screen.

I can’t believe it worked! I’ve been thinking about you a lot since that day.

Butterflies go off in her belly, and before Beca can ponder on how cheesy this is, she’s typing something back.

Me too. That was um, a really good kiss. And you’re pretty.

Oh god, I’m facepalming so hard right now. Sorry I… don’t really know how to talk to girls.

To her surprise, Chloe doesn’t seem put off by it.

You’re very cute. May I ask where you live?

Beca doesn’t want to get her hopes up, because the States are fucking huge, and she doesn’t see herself jumping into a long-distance whatever.

NYC. You?

I go to vet school in Ithaca.

Ithaca. Beca knows it’s in the state, but she googles how close just to make sure. Another message from Chloe comes through.

I’m usually in the city once a month since my best friend lives there. Would you… like to go out on a date when I’m around?

“Dude, chill out,” she mutters to herself when she feels a wave of warmth encompass her entire being.

Sure, yeah. I’d like that.

They exchange numbers and end up texting for most of the evening until Chloe announces she has to head to bed because she has an early lecture the following morning.

Beca is about to turn off the lights too, that idiotic smile still stuck to her lips, when her phone buzzes with a text message from Stacie.

DUDE!!! Watch this NOW

A TikTok link follows, and Beca knows what it is before she even opens it.

Wow. This really blew up, huh.

Stacie’s reply comes through less than five seconds later. That’s all you have to say?! Tell me you’re going to message her. I got dibs on Maid of Honor at your wedding, btw.

Beca rolls her eyes. She ponders telling Stacie but decides to keep Chloe to herself for a while. I’ll think about it.

She’s a fidgeting mess the morning leading up to their date. Chloe told her to meet her by the River Cafe in Dumbo, and Beca has spent entirely too much time deciding on what to wear, which really never happens.

Chloe is already there when she makes it to the park, and Beca buries her hands into her jacket pockets to keep them from wringing together. Chloe doesn’t see her right away, gazing up at the Brooklyn Bridge instead.

“Do you have a thing for iconic iron monuments?” She teases as she approaches, catching Chloe’s attention. She narrows her eyes playfully. “Are you gonna try and kiss me again?” A gasp flies past her lips as she exaggeratedly lies a hand over her chest. “Are you just using me to go viral on TikTok?”

Chloe giggles. “You’re a dork,” she says, grinning. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Beca breathes out, relaxing her shoulders as she smiles back.

“You like ice cream?” Chloe asks, nodding towards the vendor across the grassy area.

“Sure,” Beca says, and they fall into a step towards it. She takes her brain for something to say before things get awkward, but Chloe beats her to it.

“So what’s it like being a TikTok sensation?”

Beca barks out a laugh. “Amazing. One of my life goals for sure,” she jokes, cutting Chloe an amused glance.

Chloe giggles. “I honestly didn’t think it would blow up. But I’m glad it did ‘cause not finding you would have sucked.”

Beca clears her throat, looking down for a second. “Me too. I was really beating myself up for not asking for your number back in Paris.”

Chloe’s lips curve in a small smile, and she looks like she’s about to say something, but it’s their turn to order.

Ice creams in hand, they settle down on the grass to enjoy them. The weather is nice, not too hot with a gentle breeze rolling by once in a while.

“So what are some of your life goals, then?” Chloe asks once they’ve sat down.

“Making a living out of music is the main one,” she says. “I work as assistant producer right now, but the job is pretty crappy.”

“I may or may not have stalked your Instagram,” Chloe admits next. “You have an amazing voice.”

“Oh,” Beca lets out, feeling her cheeks heat up. “Thanks.” She clears her throat. “You’re into music?” Strangely something that hadn’t come up during their texting.

Chloe nods, smiling. “I was in an acapella group in college.”

Beca’s eyebrows shoot up, and she laughs before she can help herself. “Wait, seriously? You’re an acapella nerd?”

Chloe shoves her shoulder, laughing as well. “Shut up.”

“I guess we all make questionable choices in college, huh?”

Chloe huffs, throwing Beca a glare. Beca spots a sprinkle of amusement in her eyes, so she doesn’t think Chloe is truly mad.

“I’m just messing with you,” she says, softening. “I think any kind of music is neat. And singing without instruments is actually pretty impressive.”

“Thanks,” Chloe says lightly. “There’s just… something about music, you know. It soothes the soul and makes you escape the real world for a few minutes.”

A genuine smile curves Beca’s lips. It’s exactly how she would describe what music does to her. “Yeah.”

She eyes Chloe’s profile, still a little bit struck over the fact that this gorgeous girl is on a date with her.

“What?” Chloe asks with curiosity swirling in her eyes when she catches Beca staring.

Beca blinks. “Nothing. I…” she clears her throat. “You’re just really pretty.” She scrunches up her nose. “See? I’m awkward as fuck.”

Chloe chuckles and slides her hand into Beca’s free one. “I think it’s cute.”

Beca grumbles. “I’m not cute, I’m badass.”

Their time together flies by as they learn more about one another, Beca even managing to convince Chloe to show her some acapella videos. The sun sets without either realizing and the park is near empty, save for a couple strolling by in the distance.

“I should head back to Aubrey’s,” Chloe says when it gets a bit chillier. “I said I’d be home for dinner.”

Beca is a bit disappointed, but she nods, smiling. “Okay.”

She pushes to her feet and helps Chloe to hers, her eyes dropping to Chloe’s lips once they’re both standing.

“You know… I didn’t really care about the video,” Chloe murmurs, stepping closer. “I saw you at the restaurant and thought you were really cute. When I spotted you again later, I had to think of something.”

Beca raises an eyebrow. “I noticed you at the restaurant, too.”

“I know. You weren’t being very subtle.”

Beca huffs. “Shut up.”

Chloe simply laughs, her eyes sweeping down to Beca’s lips before she leans in. Beca is a lot less nervous this time around, and she hums as those familiar lips glide over hers flawlessly, her hands bunching up in Chloe’s top as she holds her waist. It’s over way too soon for her liking, but she has to remind herself they’re in public, and how she’ll probably get to do that again very soon.

“See you soon?” Chloe murmurs when they part, brushing her nose against Beca’s.

Beca nods and squeezes her waist. “Yeah.”

With one last kiss, she watches Chloe go in a similar state of a daze as in Paris.

Something tells her this is the start of something amazing.

[captainenjolras]

I put songs on shuffle and assigned them to Les Mis characters and this is what I got

Javert: “Way Down We Go (stripped)” by KALEO

Valjean: “Sex With Me” by Rihanna (the sound I made when this song came on-)

Enjolras: “Wedding Dance” from Fiddler on the Roof

Grantaire: “And I’m Telling You I’m Not Going” from Dream Girls (this one broke my heart a little)

Courfeyrac: “Another One Bites The Dust” by Queen

Combeferre: “Some Kind of Monster” by Neon Trees

Bahorel: “The Bells of Notre Dame” from Hunchback of Notre Dame

Feuilly: “Diamonds” by Rihanna

Joly: “When You Were Mine” by Prince, covered by Cyndi Lauper

Bossuet: “Too Beautiful For Words” from The Color Purple (and he is beautiful 😌)

Musichetta: “Your Daddy’s Son” from Ragtime (OUCH)

Marius: “Life of the Party” by Shawn Mendes

Cosette: “Sumemrtime Sadness” by Lana Del Rey

Jehan: “The Movie In My Mind” from Miss Saigon (DOUBLE OUCH)

Eponine: “Simple Joys” from Pippin

Gavroche: “Carry On” by Fun. (Oh this song is totally him)

Montparnesse: “Come What May” from Moulin Rouge

Claquesous: “Cherry Wine” by Hozier

[firebird-and-pegasus]

Gavroche’s Angel

(So this is the first thing that I have written for Les Mis, and hopeful not the last. I really need to start writing more. It has been a while.)

(This is supposed to be Gavroche telling a story to someone in heaven after he and the rest of the crew dies. I am picturing Valjean but it can be anyone really.)

     I first meet the Les Amis when I had been living on the streets for almost a year. It was a very, very, cold day in the middle of winter. I was not as familiar with the city outside of the few blocks that I normally stuck to, but that day it was doing nothing for me in terms of begging or stealing so I decided to wander for a bit. The begging was a bit better in this strange area, but I also managed to myself lost in it. I hate to admit it, but I panicked. Then the blizzard started, which made me get even more lost than I already was. Then I started crying, which looking back was pretty embarrassing too, but I was only five, lost, cold, and soaked from the flying snow, so that was okay I guess. My tears also froze to my face, making me notice that this was not just cold but dangerous, small-child-who-doesn’t-own-a-coat killing, cold. Of course, this made me panic and cry some more. Every ally that I tried to hide out in was already occupied by older beggars who all yelled at me for taking their spot and kicked me out. So, naturally, I cried some more and started wandering aimlessly. As I was doing this, someone slammed into me from behind.      A muffled voice yelped and said, “What the… Oh, shiiiiiooot, I meant to say shoot. Hey kid! Sorry, I didn’t see you there. Say, ummm, you alright?”      I blinked up at the man who was wearing a thick black cloak with a hood and a green scarf.      “I… um… I don’t know where I am and its really cold...” and I am crying in front of a complete stranger.      The man knelt down so he was on eye level with me. He pulled his scarf down so I could see his face with one hand and put the other one on my shoulder.      “Do you need help, kid?” He asked, gently.       I nodded. Then, to my shock, the man picked me up and tucked me into his cloak. He smelled like alcohol, not the cheap stuff that some of the adult beggars drink, but a nicer alcohol smell, also fire smoke, and like the buckets of paint that me and some of my friends stole (after the painter was finished with the sign!) and dumped on each other.      “What is your name little one?” He asked.      “Gavroche, who are you?”      “I am Grantaire.”      Despite that I was still shivering and that he was still a complete stranger, I fell asleep in his arms.      When I woke up, I was the warmest I had been in months. I was wearing an adult’s shirt, which was like a dress on me, and was covered in thick blankets on a mattress on the floor. Next to me was a roaring fire that lit the crowded room that I found myself in. The other people looked like university students and were talking loudly about something. I couldn’t quite grasp what that something was because I was still half asleep and deep in my own thoughts. I got up and wrapped one of the blankets around me before wandering over to where Grantaire was sitting. Everyone was so focused on whatever they were talking about that no one noticed that I was up until I tugged on Grantaire’s waistcoat.      “Oh, hello little friend! I got you some food.”, he said to me before turning back to his own conversation, “And, Bossuet, that is officially the worst idea I have heard all day.”      As the bald man sitting across from him responded, I climbed into his lap and started eating. The food was warm, filling, and the best tasting thing I had eaten since I got on the streets.     “Grantaire?” I asked as a sudden thought hit me, “Am I dead? Is this heaven? Are you an angel?”      Everyone seemed to find the last question amusing.      “No kid, you are definitely alive and well. Combeferre said that you may have some frost bite and slight hypothermia, but neither is bad enough to kill you. This is also definitely not heaven. This is the Café Musain, and I am most definitely not an angel.”      “I still think you’re an angel though.” I said.      Another man spoke up, laughing slightly, “You really think that Grantaire, who drinks more than the rest of us combined, cusses like a sailor, and is the most pessimistic person I have ever met, is an angel?”      I nodded, confused.      Another man, who looked poorer than the rest of them, spoke up. “Courfeyrac, lay off him, he is a street child. There is an old street kid legend that anyone who helps them more than just giving them cheap bread or a spare coin, is an angel.”      “It’s not a legend it’s true!” I immediately responded, shocked that they didn’t know about it. “One time a lady gave my friend a new pair of shoes, with no holes in them or anything, and he swears that when she turned around, she had white feathers on the back of her dress, like they had fallen off of her wings or something! Angels can make their wings invisible you know, but if a feather falls off it won’t change. At least that is what the older boys say, and they are never wrong.”      “So R is definitely and angel?” the bald man asked.      I nodded, “Defiantly! He saved me from freezing to death, and got me good, yummy, food, and is nice to me. He has to be an angel! No one else goes that far out of their way to help street kids.”      Some of the men seemed to be surprised what I had said about only angels being nice. Finally the blond man in the corner said, “Alright kid, whatever you say. Now about this new police activity…”      Grantaire cut him off. “Wait, Apollo, can we keep him?”      “No, you do not need any more encouragement.”      “Awwww….”, “But he is cute!”, “Please Enjolras!”, The other men spoke up.      The blond sighed, “Fine.”      We all cheered. I spent the rest of that winter sleeping in Grantaire’s apartment. That spring is when I found the elephant, which is where I lived the rest of my life, except for when it got really cold or I got sick. Then ‘Taire would insist that I stayed with him. I am still convinced that he was an angel. In fact, I think that they all were. The Les Amis were my guardian angels while I was on earth, and they still are actually. Hey Enjolras! Can I talk about that one time…      No Gav, that is never to be spoken of again, remember?      No not that, the time you helped me with that mean cop.      Oh, yes. That is fine.      Ok, so this story happened a few days after I moved into the elephant…

[doubleprogress]

@vivelafrance--vivelavenir

Continued from here.

“And yet you got dressed up for the party.” Prouvaire smiled as he gestured to a tray of nearby cookies that looked a little… misshapen, “I made those ones, I promise they taste good I just don’t have any christmas shaped cutters.” He laughed and patted her on the shoulder lightly.

“You were invited to come, oui? Why wouldn’t you be coming to spend time with some friends during the holidays? You don’t have to pretend you don’t find us all incredibly charming.” He added after a moment, a slightly cheerful merriness to his voice as he swirled a glass of wine in his hand absently.

“Well, I’m not intending to stick out by coming in my pajamas.” She rolled her eyes, smirking slightly as she reached for one of the cookies on the tray and took a bite from it. She was starved, she hadn’t eaten since breakfast and this would likely wind up being her dinner. That was fine by her, as strange as the cookies looked they did taste good.

That smirk of hers widened when he asked if she’d been invited. No, she had heard Gavroche mention that his rich old friends were throwing a party, she crashed it. For the cookies. She didn’t know anyone there except by name but she’d spoken first with Grantaire and gone along claiming the drunk had invited her. If he denied it the other’s would likely assume he was too sloshed to recall. It was cunning but she got beer and cookies for dinner out of it.

“Oui, that drunk over there extended the invitation,��� she said with a nod towards Grantaire, “I do find you charming for making good cookies though, merci.”

[cryingalexanders]

incomplete list of repeated melodies in Les Mis

"Donnez, Donnez" - Work Song/Confrontation/Look Down/Javert's Suicide

Look down, look down / Don't look 'em in the eye / Look down, look down / You're here until you die

Valjean, at last, we see each other plain / "M'sieur le maire," you'll wear a different chain

Look down and see the beggars at your feet / Look down and show some mercy if you can

Look down, Javert / He's standing in his grave / Give way, Javert / There is a life to save

"Donnez, Donnez (counter)" - Look Down/The Robbery/At the Barricade

How do you do, my name's Gavroche / These are my people, here's my patch / Not much to look at, nothing posh / Nothing that you'd call up to scratch

Hey, Eponine, what's up today / I haven't seen you much about -Here, you can always catch me in -Mind the police don't catch you out

Hey, little boy, what's this I see / God, Eponine, the things you do -I know this is no place for me / Still I would rather be with you

?? The Bishop of Digne - Prologue/Valjean Forgiven/Empty Chairs at Empty Tables

Come in, Sir, for you are weary / And the night is cold out there / Though our lives are very humble / What we have, we have to share

And remember this, my brother / See in this some higher plan / You must use this precious silver / To become an honest man

There's a grief that can't be spoken / There's a pain goes on and on / Empty chairs at empty tables / Now my friends are dead and gone

"Dites-Moi Ce Qui Se Passe" - Valjean Arrested/Fantine’s Arrest/Javert's Intervention/Stars/Little People

Tell his reverence your story -Let us see if he's impressed -You were lodging here last night -You were the honest bishop's guest

Tell me quickly what's the story / Who saw what and why and where / Let him give a full description / Let him answer to Javert

Could it be he's some old jailbird / That the tide now washes in / Heard my name and started running / Had the brand upon his skin

That inspector thinks he's something / But it's me who runs this town / And my theater never closes / And the curtain's never down

Take the bastard now and shoot him -Let us watch the devil dance -You'd have done the same, Inspector / If we'd let you have your chance

"Dites-Moi Ce Qui Se Passe (counter)" - Valjean Forgiven/Fantine’s Arrest/Javert's Intervention/Little People

But my friend, you left so early / Something surely slipped your mind / You forgot I gave these also / Would you leave the best behind

Javert, would you believe it / I was crossing from the park / When this prostitute attacked me / You can see she left her mark

You will have a job to catch him / He's the one you should arrest / No more bourgeois when you scratch him / Than that brand upon his chest

Shoot me now or shoot me later / Every schoolboy to his sport / Death to each and every traitor / I renounce your people's court

"Noir ou Blanc" - What Have I Done/Javert's Suicide

What have I done? Sweet Jesus, what have I done / Become a thief in the night, become a dog on the run

Who is this man, what sort of devil is he / To have me caught in a trap and choose to let me go free

"La Journée Est Finie" - At the End of the Day/The Runaway Cart

There are children back at home / And the children have got to be fed / And you're lucky to be in a job -And in a bed

Don't go near him, M'sieur Mayor -The load is heavy as hell -The old man's a goner for sure -It'll kill you as well

"La Nuit" - Lovely Ladies/Turning

Lovely ladies, waiting for a bite / Waiting for the customers who only come at night / Lovely ladies, waiting for the call / Standing up or lying down or any way at all / Bargain prices up against the wall

-Nothing changes -Nothing ever will -Every year another brat, another mouth to fill -Same old story, what's the use of tears -What's the use of praying if there's nobody who hears -Turning, turning, turning, turning, turning through the years

"Les Beaux Cheveux Que Voilà" - Lovely Ladies/Fantine's Arrest/First Attack

What pretty hair / What pretty locks you got there / What luck you got / It's worth a centime my dear / I'll take the lot

Here's something new / I think I'll give it a try / Come closer, you / I like to see what I buy

We meet again -You've hungered for this all your life / Take your revenge / How right you should kill with a knife

"Comment Faire" - Who Am I/One Day More/Valjean's Confession

Who am I / Can I condemn this man to slavery / Pretend I do not feel his agony

One day more / Another day, another destiny / This never ending road to Calvary

Years ago / He broke parole and lived a life apart / How could he tell Cosette and break her heart

"L'air de la Misère" - Fantine's Death/On My Own/Finale

Come to me, Cosette, the light is fading / Don't you see the evening star appearing / Come to me, and rest against my shoulder / How fast the minutes fly away and every minute colder

On my own, pretending he's beside me / All alone, I walk with him 'til morning / Without him, I feel his arms around me / And when I lose my way I close my eyes / And he has found me

On this page, I write my last confession / Read it well when I, at last, am sleeping / It's the story of those who always loved you / Your mother gave her life for you / And gave you to my keeping

"La Devise du Cabaretier" - Master of the House/Beggars at the Feast

Master of the house, doling out the charm / Ready with a handshake and an open palm / Tells a saucy tale, makes a little stir / Customers appreciate a bon-viveur

Beggar at the feast, master of the dance / Life is easy pickings, if you grab your chance / Everywhere you go, law-abiding folk / Doing what is decent, but they're mostly broke

"La Valse de la Fourberie" - The Waltz of Treachery/The Robbery/The Wedding Chorale

What to do, what to say / Shall you carry our treasure away / What a gem, what a pearl / Beyond rubies is our little girl

Please M'sieur, come this way / Here's a child that ain't eaten today / Save a life, spare a sou / God rewards all the good that you do

You've got cash and a heart / You could give us a bit of a start / We can prove, plain as ink / Your bride's father is not what you think

"Les Amis de l'ABC" - The ABC Cafe/The Second Attack Students, workers, everyone / There's a river on the run / Like the flowing of the tide / Paris coming to our side

Let me go into the streets / There are bodies all around / Ammunition to be had / Lots of bullets to be found

"Dans la Vie" - In My Life/First Attack

Dear Cosette, you're such a lonely child / How pensive, how sad you seem to me / Believe me, were it within my power / I'd fill each passing hour

You are wrong, and always have been wrong / I'm a man, no worse than any man / You are free, and there are no conditions / No bargains or petitions

[publishh-online]

“Les Miz” is overrated: A Letter to a Theatre-Going Public

Les Miserables or Les Miz is a hit musical which debuted in The Barbican Centre in 1985. Les Misérables is a comédie musicale which began life as a French concept album in 1980, earning enough money and attention to stage in Paris for a few months before the performance hall was booked out by a circus. It was a resounding success in the French theatre context, starring local actors and pop singers and selling out throughout its run.

When the musical was in development in London, the job of writing the English lyrics was given to Herbert Kretzmer. Kretzmer was an English journalist and lyricist who had experience working in opera. While Boublil and his collaborator Jean-Marc Natel are poetic, Kretzmer was much more focused on conveying “useful” information through his lyrics even if it’s phrased simply. This was very much his philosophy. 

Using Gavroche’s number as an example is apt, because the show wouldn't exist if not for him. The early development of the show occured in the late 1970s by the French-Jewish songwriting pair Claude-Michel Schönberg, composer, and lyricist Alain Boublil. Boublil was inspired when he went to see ‘Oliver!’ in London in the late 70s. He saw the actor playing Oliver on stage and it brought to him the image of Gavroche, which sparked the idea of a musical based on Les Misérables.

Here is a comparison of a matching passage from Gavroche’s number on the barricade:

And little people know When little people fight We may look easy pickings But we've got some bite So never kick a dog Because he's just a pup We'll fight like twenty armies And we won't give up So you'd better run for cover When the pup grows up

I fell on the ground (Je suis tombé par terre) That’s the fault of Voltaire (C’est la faute à Voltaire) My nose is in the gutter (Le nez dans le ruisseau) That’s the fault of Rousseau (C’est la faute à Rousseau) Joy is my nature (Joie est mon caractère) That’s the fault of Voltaire (C’est la faute à Voltaire) Misery is my outfit (Misère est mon trousseau) That’s the fault of Rousseau (C’est la faute à Rousseau)

The lyrics in the concept were actually taken from the novel, as a tune Gavorche sings making fun of philosophers and bourgeois values. This version keeps it fun and childish, but at the same time it’s infused with political implications. This becomes even clearer in verses following.

This version was considered too “tough” and “ideological” for a mass-market Les Miz. And what we get in the final show is ‘Little People’, an annoying, superfluous little number which effectively guts all of the interesting parts of Gavroche’s character and situation in the name of more “efficiency” in the scene of Javert’s capture.

The final song’s “cuteness” is probably largely what motivated the younger-skewing casting of Gavroche over past years. He’s about 12-13 in the novel and I don’t like this trend because making Gavroche a young child removes a lot of his agency and awareness, making him a less interesting and significant character.

The rebellion in the novel is based on the June Rebellion of 1832, a republican uprising against the July Monarchy installed two years earlier. It was intended as a constitutional monarchy as a compromise with the republicans, but over the next few years the new freedoms were rolled back. The Rebellion was spurred by the death of Jean Maximilien Lamarque, a former general and popular politician who was critical of the monarchy, who died of cholera from the outbreak which had been raging in Paris over the few months prior.

The article “Outlaw Kings and Rebellion Chic” makes the argument that pop culture consistently recuperates revolutionary sentiment and political violence and villainises ideologically-motivated rebellion. Which also explains the way that the revolutionary students are generally portrayed in adaptations, and how both their ideas and the society they are reacting to are almost never clarified. Despite the fact that they are republicans (as in, believers in a republic and democracy) fighting against an autocratic monarchy, and according to current political norms you would think that they are unambiguously the good guys.

‘Turning’, a number which didn’t exist in the French concept, is an ample example of this. The song was written to give the women in the cast something to do, which is a noble goal. But the sentiment behind the song projects the disillusionment from failed revolutions of the 20th century onto the past. The lyrics construct this idea of these helplessly naïve “schoolboys” who can’t fight or plan their way through a battle.

Boublil and Schonberg are kind of weak adapters. Their adaptation of 'Martin Guerre' showcases a telling creative laziness. The music sounds like a knockoff Les Miz, it has that bombastic grandiosity though it's nonsensical for the setting and concept, and it's an almost Disneyfied version of the story with no real complexity. The show repeatedly references Les Miz's lyrics-ones Boublil didn't even write--which makes it further feel that it's in the shadow of their previous success. In this way, Boublil and Schoenberg are very corporate creators, and this becomes especially apparent in their work after Les Miz. Boublil said that he and Schönberg never had a political agenda in making their shows, and that choosing political subject matter was a kind of repeated accident throughout their career. The politics of the stories they were adapting were never that important to them. I think it’s true.

[writingforthethinkers]

Please

Les Misérables

Pairing: Enjolras X Reader

Word Count: 1742

Warning: None

Summary: The reader is Javert’s daughter, however is fighting at the barricade. Only very few know about her family, but when Javert arrives to try and infiltrate the barricade, there isn’t much chance she can keep her connection to him a secret.

I sit on what seems to be a plank of wood resting on an upturned chair and a broken table. Gavroche is perched next to me, fiddling with a gun I’m not sure on how he’s acquired. The realisation that he is, in fact, holding a gun kicks in and I reach across and take it from his hands.

“What-” he begins before I cut him off.

“You’ll either take your foot off or mine and I won’t be happy either way.”

“Fair point,” he shrugs and instead focuses his attention on playing with a loose button on his jacket.

I place the gun down next to me; gazing at the array of revolutionaries littered around. They’re all in different positions, nervous and poised, waiting for the volunteer Enjolras picked to find out information. Speaking of the blonde, I look to him, a few feet from me, crouched at the top of the barricade, eyes trained on the empty road, hands gripping his rifle as he aims it dead ahead of him. His curls fall around his face, but he’s unbothered by them all, save a few, which he tucked behind his ear.

I begin to get up and go over to him, maybe take over on watch, but before I can stand he shouts a few words.

“He’s back!”

Enjolras relaxes, stands back and begins to descend the barricade as someone else routinely takes his place. He lands on the ground, gives me a quick glance, before moving to be more centered in the length of street we blocked off. He keeps my gaze long enough to give me a small nod and I give a slight smile in return, silent words of reassurance passing between the two of us.

I turn my attention to the source of hopefully good news that may be coming our way. A few men move some furniture to create a pathway and a figure slips through. I look to Gavroche and he meets my eyes, excitement and curiosity flickering in his glance. I’m pulled from his face by a familiar voice, and my body instantly fills with dread.

“Listen, my friends, I have done as I said, I have been to their lines, I have counted each man, I will tell what I can.”

No.

It can’t be. Why? Why would he get involved? Risk his life? Why not stay hidden away behind his safe walls in his pristine uniform? Why is he attempting to do exactly what I am?

Gavroche’s face holds only confusion, as I’m sure Eponine’s and Marius’ do the same. They all know who it is, and they all know who he is to me.

Javert.

“Your father?” Gavroche mouths, unsure of what to do. I look back at him in the same manner, except horror is a little more present within my features.

Javert keeps talking, and I have no choice but to listen.

“Better beware, they have armies to spare. And the danger is real, we will need all our cunning to bring them to yield.”

What is he doing? I look across the group of men and make eye contact with Marius, the question swims through his eyes. He daren’t say anything though, he knows what would happen if he did.

“Have faith, if you know what their movements are, we’ll spoil their game,” Enjolras’ voice breaks through my thoughts and makes it clear what I have to do. “There are ways that our people can fight, we shall overcome their power.”

The barricade silences, waiting on Javert’s words.

“I have overheard their plans, there will be no attack tonight. They intend to starve you out, before they start a proper fight. Concentrate their force, hit us when it’s light.”

I jump into action, descending the barricade as I speak.

“Liar!” I cry above the light murmuring, silencing it instantly. All eyes turn to me and I give a quick look to Gavroche, hoping he understands what I’m going to try and do. He nods ever so slightly, moving forward. He’s smart, grasping what I’m doing almost instantly. “Good evening, dear Inspector,” I begin.

“Lovely evening, my dear,” Gavroche finishes, standing up taller.

“Gav knows this man, my friends, his name’s Inspector Javert,” my eyes meet with my father’s as the crowd parts. They gleam with surprise for a moment before turning cold with anger, his face contorting with hatred.

“So, don’t believe a word he says, cause none of it’s true,” Gavroche continues, crossing his arms, playing the part “this only goes to show what little people can do.”

I’m so thankful to him for covering for me, but I may not be in the clear yet.

“Bravo, little Gavroche, you’re the top of the class!” Congratulations are sent Gavroche’s way as a few grab Javert, holding him in place. He doesn’t try to struggle too much, eyes still trained on me.

“Take this man and throw him in the tavern and there,” Enjolras condemns him “the people will decide your fate, Inspector Javert.”

My father gives one last futile attempt to fight, thrashing against the bodies that keep him still. He gives out a small speech, releasing me from his glare to spit the words at anyone looking in his direction. Once he’s finished, I begin to relax as they try to drag him away, but he continues to resist, bringing his eyes back to me.

“And you,” Javert shouts as my breath catches in my throat. “You are no a daughter of mine! Running off to fight with filthy rebels, you will never be welcome in my house again!”

I bite my lip, anger boiling up inside of me. He’s ruined it, with just a few words he has torn down the few good friendships I’ve ever had. My anger decides for me if some more words should be thrown into the mix.

“And you are in no way my father! I’d rather live in the gutter than under your roof!” My anger bubbles over, spilling out in the form of words.

He scoffs, his glare never wavering, but he lets himself be dragged away, leaving me to face the truth and its consequences.

I look around, meeting the eyes of my friends. I may not have known them long, but I trusted them, and they trusted me. Until now it seemed. Looks of confusion and slight betrayal are smeared over their faces, however the worst of all, is Enjolras.

He says nothing, only looks at me. I look back, regret filling every feature, but I’m not sure he notices. I don’t think he wants to. I’m about to say something, an apology perhaps, but he takes hold of my wrist, dragging me towards a door off to the right and pushing me through.

Shutting it behind us, Enjolras can’t seem to look at me yet, instead he glares at the ground.

“Enjolras,” I begin, searching for the words “I’m so-”

“Father? You’re the daughter of a police inspector?” his voice is deathly quiet.

“I’m sorry I lied to you, I couldn’t-”

“So, you’re a spy?” he cuts me off again, his voice raising with anger “you got close to us, close to me, so you could, what, get on the inside? Find the ‘filthy rebels’, sleep with them to get answers and nip them in the bud?”

“If any of that were true do you really think we would have got as far as building the barricade?”

This quietens him for a moment as he considers it. He wants it to be true, it’s clear in his eyes.

“And I didn’t get close to you for- for ‘answers’. I did it because I love you,” I stutter out.

“Why would you lie?” Enjolras throws his hands out to the sides, his eyes meeting mine. “Why wouldn’t you tell us who you are, you could have helped us.”

“Would you have let me in if I had?” He bites his lip, hesitating, knowing I’m most probably right. “And I did help. That connection I said I had, the friend with the father in the police force? That connection was me. I found all that out to help the cause.”

Enjolras stays silent, he rubs a hand along his jaw, turning away from me as he lets out a breath.

“Please, believe me. I’ve only ever wanted to fight your cause because it’s the one I believe in. I may not be affected by the issues you fight to change, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to change them too. Just, please, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” I falter, taking a step closer, but he doesn’t make any movement. He doesn’t trust me.

I take a shaky breath.

"Please."

He doesn't move, his back is still turned and the blaring red of the back of his jacket stares me down.

I turn, broken and defeated, taking a few steps towards the door, the sound of my shoes on the ground fills the silence. I rest my hand on the door knob, turning it and beginning to pull the door open when it is pushed shut again against my will.

I look up to see a hand having pressed it closed, but it is quickly retracted and a moment later I feel arms weave around my waste, moving around me. One comes to rest securely around my stomach and the other travels up and lays across my chest, the hand on my shoulder, pulling me back.

A chest presses itself into my back, and warm breath flourishes heat across my neck. His scent fills the air around me and I instinctively lean back into his embrace, a sense of safety washing over me.

Relief floods me too, this gesture an unspoken acceptance of my apology, and I realise I have my revolutionary back.

The breeze from the open window tickles the backs of their necks. They stare death it the face and it stares back from behind the eyes of 6 armed soldiers. The barrels of the guns are great black abysses to the unknown and they greet it with chins held high, upturned lips, linked hands and a red flag; rich as blood, vibrant as the colours of a new dawn.

The pain lasts but a second, and once the darkness has enfolded them, they are unable to feel the whisper of a touch the breeze from the open-air trails up their necks.

[melonoverlord]

the 50 qs for the goofy drama zip zap boi

Their age?

16

Their sexuality/sexual preference?

Bisexual

Any siblings/Only child?

He has two siblings, one older sister (Judith) who he’d sell his soul to Satan for, and one younger brother (Reuben) who he’d sell to Satan. Jk, he loves Benny but sometimes he is too much to handle. They are all separably vying for “Most Extra Spiegelmann” Award

Their favourite season?

Winter. His goal every year is to make the tallest snowman with Ashi.

Who were/are their parents/guardians?

His parents were Henry and Antonia, and were pretty good parents to all of them and always encouraged him to be himself, but when Judith disappeared and it didn’t really seem like she had run away because Daniel told the police that she never had a problem at home, but like pre-teens did, sometimes have arguments with her mom and dad (mainly related that Judith wanted to go out and stay out with her friends), they were tried and arrested for child abduction and murder and now Daniel and Reuben officially live with their Great Aunt Theresa, but when Daniel’s boss entered the picture, he paid Daniel’s aunt to have unofficial custody over the boys as long as he paid college education and living expenses for them.

Their gender?

Male

Their date of birth?

September 15, 2002

What clothing style?

Usually gray jeans and t-shirts of either shows he’s been in or the stupid graphic tees you get at target. In his work, his boss has been trying to make sure he dresses better and is now starting to wear either sweaters or button ups with slacks. He doesn’t like that very much.

What is their favourite food after a break-up?

Butterscotch cookies from a bakery in Downtown Grand Rapids. They would know him by name.

Their favourite thing to do after a break-up?

Listen to every single musical or Disney love song and cry while eating chocolate chip ice cream. It hurts his tummy afterwards but it helps to focus on an upset tummy than a broken heart.

What happens in the ‘honeymoon phase’ for this character?

The kid will be broke because he’s always trying to buy gifts based on what you said you liked that one time. He’ll also always be with you and giving you cuddles and holding your hand and say “I found this flower, it reminded me of you.”

How many serious relationships have they been in?

None. He always had eyes for Ashi and didn’t know whether she liked him back.

What is their nationality?

American, though his family came from Poland in the 1930s.

What languages do they speak?

English, Hebrew, and Polish.

What is their profession/Education?

He was taught in Michigan for most of his life in both regular public school and then Hebrew school, and now he’s on a hiatus on school while he works, but still takes classes online at the local city college.

Their favourite comfort food?

Chocolate milkshakes. He’ll drink like five in an hour. Who cares if he’s lactose intolerant.

What’s a food they hate?

Tomatoes. They’re too squishy.

Their music taste?

Alternative rock or musical theatre. He’s honestly a fan of anything except country. Fuck country.

Is there a story behind their name/meaning?

Daniel’s a king in the bible, and Henry wanted to have a strong son that could make their family proud.

Something they do that seems childish to others?

When he gets overstimulated, whether happy or sad, he starts to cry. He once cried because he couldn’t finish an exam on time. He still got a B+ but he cried.

What is their all-time favourite TV show?

Mythbusters. They way they just *clenches fist* bust those myths. He also really likes anything with Gordon Ramsey because he’s funny.

What is their all-time favourite movie?

He’s a super big fan of the Indiana Jones movies, particularly The Last Crusade. His favorite part is where Indy and his dad set the room on fire.

How big is their family?

Originally it was him, Judith, Benny, and his parents, but now it’s him, Benny, techinically Great Aunt Theresa? And kinda his boss.

Are they close to anyone specific in the family?

He was extremely close to Judith when they were younger. He would say she was his best friend and she would come to his theatre performances when his parents had work. Now that she’s gone, he’s close(ish) to Benny, but they have a lot of tension from Benny just wanting his freedom and Daniel wanting to be a brother instead of a parent.

Have they got any allergies?

Bees and mosquitoes. He gets severe reactions from any bug bites that camping anywhere is kind of off the table.

Are they an emotional person?

Yes, but he tries to keep it under control and do whatever he’s being told to do. But the kid definitely feels the highs and lows 

Do they get angry/lose their temper quickly?

He’s got a lot of reasons to be angry, but he knows he has to hold it together for Benny (and Ashi). So he just waits until he’s alone and then he cries.

What are some of their guilty pleasures?

Playing video games for hours on end, talking to his pet gerbil Madonna, and writing out letters to Ashi that he can’t send so he keeps under his mattress at home.

Do they have pets? Do they want pets?

He has his pet gerbil Madonna that he and Benny watch over.

Do they like kids? Do they want kids/have kids?

He’s alright with kids, but he couldn’t handle another right now since he’s kind of the sole caretaker of Reuben.

Who’s cuddle buddy are they?

It used to be Judith’s and Ashi’s, but now it’s just Benny, which Benny absolutely hates. He squirms out of every hug that Daniel tries to give him.

Do they have any tattoos?

Nope, baby’s afraid of needles.

Do they have any piercings?

No, for the same reasons.

What is their hair colour? Is it their natural colour?

Dark blonde. He dyed the ends of it to a blue when he was fourteen, and Benny and Ashi both immediately agreed they hated it, so he cut it off.

Do they like musicals?

He loves musicals. He’s been participating in community theatre since he was around seven or eight (he had his first starring role as Gavroche in Les Miserables) and listens to musicals to calm himself down from panic attacks.

Do they like marmite?

He doesn’t say it to anything, but he actually likes it on toast. He doesn’t eat it that often because nearly everyone on his team hates it, but he enjoys it on the downlow.

Do they like glitter?

He has a glitter folder that he puts his sheet music in. He likes anything flashy and shiny.

Do they believe in the supernatural?

Mothman is real and you can’t convince him otherwise.

Have they ever seen a dead body?

He’s been lucky enough not to, but he’s worried that one of these days in the line of work he’s doing, he’s going to either see a dead body or 

be 

the dead body

Have they ever had a near-death experience?

He’s had plenty of near death experiences, a lot of them by his own doing. He once was about 20 feet from splatting on the pavement because he teleported too late.

Have they ever broken a bone?

Despite his general disregard for safety, Daniel is lucky that he’s never broken a bone. He almost broke his tailbone when he fell off a tree when he was fourteen, but he just had the air knocked out of him.

What are they like when they’re drunk/what kind of drunk are they?

He’d be the flirty drunk who just says he loves you so much. He’s also the one that forgets that you’re dating, so when you say you’re taken he starts crying.

Have they ever drunk underage?

Nah, his faith is pretty strict about drinking for funsies.

What is the first thing they do when they wake up?

Go to water his plants in his room. He has a fern named Patricia.

Do they consider themselves popular?

He’s had friends here and there mostly through theatre, but in his mind having Ashi was enough. It didn’t really set in how much he was lonely until she left.

How do they like their tea/coffee?

With as much sugar dumped in. Think you added enough sugar? No, add more.

What do they smell like?

Apple cologne, hazelnut, and pinewood candles.

Are they a virgin?

Yes, he’s only had one kiss and that was a stage kiss for Rent. He played Roger.

Do they wear glasses/contacts?

He wears contacts because he doesn’t like anything crowding around his eyes. He likes his Flicker mask because it actually covers the whole face rather than just his eyes and he can focus on outside stuff.

Are they good at remembering significant dates? Anniversaries, birthdays etc?

He’s good when it comes to Benny and Ashi, but completely abysmal when it comes to himself or other people’s. He once forgot a staff meeting with his team until they were literally at his doorstep politely demanding to come in.

[marbresauvage]

sad little queERs // e/R // chatzy

With // Enjolras & Grantaire @la-vie-dure Content Warnings // alcohol, anxiety, depression, panic attacks, talk of death, meltdown tl;dr // after the love festival, things were weird, and we hurt but things are...we don’t know. things happened we guess? a combination of zero talking and a Lot of talking? it seems to be vaguely okay now though so there’s that

Enjolras was looking for Grantaire. First of all, he missed him. Second of all, he missed him. And third of all, the world was feeling distinctly off-kilter today, his every decision feeling wrong and his every move just...things were overwhelming and he knew that he'd fucked up real hard (though he didn't know exactly where), but he just-- He needed to find his boyfriend. So, that was his mission, lip bitten and fingertips fidgeted raw, to find the one he'd died with, because no matter how hard he'd fucked up, the chance was still there for proximity, right? It was worth a try. He wished he could say how it was that he came to knock on this door, but he could not, and so he simply knocked upon the door, shifting from foot to foot and strongly considering not sticking around to see if the man would open it. He came bearing oranges, though. That had to count for something. Right? 

Grantaire had been hiding away from the world and been drinking to numb his feelings because this was what grown-up, responsible adults did, right? Oh, and he had been painting. Painting a lot. Working with lots of blacks and yellows. And reds. Lot of reds. His first paintings during the first day of him staying at his new studio had still kind of resembled some almost figures but as the hours bled into days and nights, the wine flowing more frequently and then being replaced for brandy, his works started to be more abstract. But the color scheme had stayed the same, though his latest work also included blotches of blue. He couldn't remember when he had gotten Apollo but truth was, his dog was curled up right at his feet while Grantaire kept on painting. It was always the same: a couple of strokes with the brush, a sip of brandy - or wine, another couple of strokes with the brush, more brandy or wine. When he heard the knock at the door, he expected Eponine. Maybe Marie. He had made sure to take absence from any work that he might have needed to be doing because he had been feeling restless. His night terrors had gotten worse and he had barely gotten any sleep anyway - any and all sleep was thanks to the sweet side effects of alcohol, drowning him into short but dreamless naps. Right. The door. Slowly, he got up, not caring that he kicked a bottle away whilst setting his foot in front of the other. Apollo had woken up and already stormed towards the door, wagging his tail. Must be someone he knew then. Maybe Gavroche. Stumbling over to the door, he opened it, fully aware that he probably looked the way he felt: exhausted, unkempt. When he saw the familiar blonde hair - noticing the hair before anything else - he resisted the urge to just close the door again. Not because he did not want to see Enjolras, oh no, he did want to see him but he was fully aware of how bad he must have been looking right that moment. Fighting his instinct, he opened the door further to let Apollo stick his head through and excitedly sniff at Enjolras' trousers. Without a word - because speaking was hard, he felt like he hadn't used his voice in days - he opened the door even further in a silent invitation whilst leaning against the wall to keep him upright because standing was just as hard as speaking.

Enjolras saw the door open, and immediately ducked his head, glancing up at his boyfriend through his blond curls, trying to figure out what was going on, but having little idea of how to consolidate such a picture. The alcohol smell was strong, though. That wasn't a good sign. Enjolras swallowed, and thrust the oranges into Grantaire's hands without comment, and he just-- His hands itched to encircle his boyfriend, but he didn't know if that was acceptable or a good idea or anything or if it would fuck everything up, so he just-- He knelt and hugged Apollo instead, his eyes and nose already beginning to stream from allergies, but he hugged the dog close as a surrogate Grantaire.

Grantaire blinked down at the oranges, ignoring how dizzy looking down made him feel. It took him another few moments before he turned his gaze to Enjolras who was almost buried underneath Apollo. Oh. Slowly, he let himself slide down against the wall, not quite touching his dog or boyfriend but close enough that all that would be needed to do so was lifting his hand. Sitting was a lot better than standing, Grantaire found and this was good. Probably would have been better if Enjolras was fully inside the studio and the door was closed but for now, this worked. As he tried to figure out what exactly was expected of him - thinking was hard when his mind felt like it was filled with a mixture of cotton and fog - he absentmindedly started fidgeting with the oranges in his hands. Picking at one in particular with his left hand to tug of tiny stripes of the skin.

Enjolras practically melted into Apollo, his body shaking with a sneeze that he directed away from the dog before he lowkey buried himself in the large black creature, tangling his fingers in the fur and closing itchy, red eyes (allergies were just fantastic) as he continued to clutch the doggo close, deciding that it was worth the tickle in his chest and in his nose, eyes still streaming obnoxiously. This was fine. This was preferable. He'd take what he could get, without the cues he needed to behave 'ordinarily' in interpersonal interaction.

Grantaire vaguely heard the sneeze and the thought of moving Enjolras away from Apollo came up but seeing how he buried himself deeper into Apollo he thought it would be better to leave him to it as it was obvious that this closeness was needed - and Grantaire was not sure if he could give the closeness at the time or if it was even wanted in the first place. Instead, he noticed that he peeled half of an orange already - how had that happened so quickly when the world felt like it was moving about three seconds slower than normal? Glancing down at the orange, he peeled off one piece and, still without a word, held it out towards Enjolras, not knowing if the other would even notice the slice offered or not. But it was there.

Enjolras 's throat was starting to feel strange, kind of slightly tighter than normal, but not enough to cause much alarm; he already knew he was allergic, so some slight burning in his throat wasn't exactly unlikely, particularly considering the itchiness of his face, and he continued to hold on to Apollo. There was movement, though, and Enjolras' shoulders tensed in a little flinch, half expecting something to make injurious contact with him, but nothing did, and so slowly, gnawing at his lower lip, he raised his head, blurred eyes seeking the intrusive object. What...was that? He squinted. An orange slice? Why was Grantaire offering it to him? Did he want him to eat it? His stomach lurched at the prospect and beneath the allergy-and-anxiety-induced blotchiness on his face, he kind of went white, shaking his head, his eyes fixed on a spot on the wall, it being less nerve-wracking to do so than actually looking at his boyfriend right now.

Grantaire squinted his eyes, less at the decline of the fruit but more at the paleness of Enjolras. Setting the oranges aside - because despite not remembering the last time he had eaten, hunger was not something he was feeling as of this moment - he considered what he could do. Clearly, Enjolras was in some form of distress? Should he get Apollo away from him and ask him what was wrong or what he needed? Biting his lip, he kept contemplating his next step. Maybe water was something that was needed but that would involve getting up and trying to find water - Grantaire was not sure if he even had any left here, for all he knew, the only liquids available could be of the alcoholic variety. A quiet hum escaped him, one that did not really mean anything. He was clueless as to what Enjolras could possibly be needing and it was a feeling he did not like. That was something he was sure of.

Enjolras brought a hand up to rub at his eyes, itchy as they were, but the thing was, he'd just been tangled up in Apollo, and that meant that his hands were covered in dog-ness, which meant that his eyes got even itchier, but it satisfied the initial itch with the unfortunate effect of making his eyes stream more and more, growing redder, but he kept doing it because then he wouldn't cry, even though his chest was shaking now, his throat irritated and his nerves...not helping things.

Grantaire ran his hand through his curls, clearly lost. He noticed Enjolras' shaking and let out a small sigh - which he was sure Enjolras would not have heard. Moving his hand towards Apollo, tugging slightly at his collar and, once he had the dog's attention, nodding towards further inside the studio, hoping that his dog would listen to him even without spoken commands and moved closer, even before Apollo had the chance to move out of the way. Slowly, he lifted one hand, moving slowly, making sure that his intentions were hopefully clear, before curling his hand loosely into Enjolras' curls. Physical closeness was still a 'je ne sais pas' for him but this? This he could do.

Enjolras was still rubbing at his itchy eyes when Grantaire sent Apollo away and his heart jumped into his throat, his elbows tugging further towards his sides. This was it, this was him being told that it wasn't okay to be here, that it wasn't okay for him to not be okay, because he knew that he was the only one that R believed in, he knew that if he let him down it'd be just one more person -- and one he cared for at that -- that he'd hurt. This would be the moment where Grantaire told him to go before he let him down and when did his chest get so tight, but-- There was a hand in his hair now, and he wasn't...he didn't... Enjolras stayed very still, very deliberately trying Not to Fuck Up, adjusting his posture so that his hands weren't moving and his feet weren't moving and none of his limbs or anything else was moving, because if he didn't move, then he wouldn't fuck this up and Grantaire wouldn't make him leave. It made perfect sense.

Grantaire grew even more confused by the utter stillness that Enjolras was showing now. Stillness was not something that Grantaire would ever connect to Enjolras and it just felt wrong. Maybe, what he had done had been a mistake. Maybe, Apollo was what Enjolras needed. Maybe he should have just let him be and went back to his painting. The stillness was starting to make Grantaire nervous. Merde. This did not seem to be working. Ignoring that the minimum touch had been making him feel slightly more like he was in the here and now, he slowly removed it but noticed that his hand was still hovering between them - in an awkward dance of 'what now'. Speaking was something that he should be doing that moment, he knew that but he still did not trust his voice.

Enjolras just barely flinched at the removal of the contact. It hadn't worked. He'd fucked up and Grantaire had removed his hand and now he-- "...If I don't...move..." he mumbled, his voice hoarse, scratchy, and quiet, matching his exterior. "Then...I won't...fu-ck up...and you...won't...make me leave...so-- I...won't move... Seen and not heard. This is...I won't do it again. Promise."

Grantaire blinked the moment Enjolras started talking - he had not expected that. While he listened, he could feel his own chest tighten up. Had he caused this? What had he done to make Enjolras feel like he would be kicked out? How had he made him feel like he had to be still in order to be allowed to stay? Feeling his own hands starting to shake slightly, he balled them into fists and took deep, slow breaths. "No," he replied, quietly, his voice scratchy from not having been used in a few days. "This.. this is wrong. You're never still. Or quiet. This-" He nodded at Enjolras, "This is not you." And that fact worried Grantaire more than he would like to admit. "I won't make you leave. Not for talking or just generally being around." Did his voice crack? "And if anyone ever tries to tell you that you'll only be allowed around if you're adjusting in a way that makes it feel like you're not yourself, then they don't deserve to have you around. And if... if I..." Yes, his voice definitely cracked, "If I gave you that feeling..." He trailed off, his mind not being able to form or finish the sentence, the fog in his mind making him lose track.

Enjolras swallowed anxiously as Grantaire spoke, his expression not really changing, like, at all, because that was a thing, but...he was still listening. It was something new, he thought, to be informed that it was okay to move about and stuff, something new to be in the company of someone who actually didn't mind the ways he made himself feel slightly more comfortable with, y'know, stuff, in general. It was new. New as shit. And what was he supposed to do with that? Slowly he did look up, however, not meeting R's eye because nope, but coming a little closer than last time. "You didn't, it...it's not you. Everything's just wrong today. I don't want this to be wrong too, I can't... I can't fuck up. Not again."

Grantaire moved his head slowly, to not cause more dizziness, into a head shake. "Again?" He asked, before slowly inching closer - now knowing that it was okay. He still did not feel alright for too much physical contact but a being closer - close enough to feel the warmth radiating from Enjolras' body - was something that he could handle. Once satisfied with the vicinity to his boyfriend, he let his hand curl back into the blonde curls. "Is there anything.... I can do?"

Enjolras nodded in response, hugging onto his own legs as Grantaire approached, but accepted the proximity and hand in his hair with a noise that essentially could be considered as a conglomeration of consonants but also as a sigh, shifting a little, slowly and repetitively in a self-soothing manner as he rubbed at the fabric of his jeans. "...This is...good...if you don't mind. I'm just... ...I'm sorry, I...know I walked out but-- I couldn't... The last time I fucked up everybody we cared about died. I know that it isn't the same, that...dropping a customer's change won't kill people, and that...if I forgot to give Petitaire his chew treat, he wouldn't die...and that...if I mess up with you, you won't either, but...I might lose you and-- I don't know what I'm doing. I can't do people, not in the smaller... I don't get faces easily and I don't get tones of voice and I'm not good at reading between the lines and I don't get sarcasm and I don't understand how people can do simple...social things without freaking out a lot of the time and I know that that means I'm going to mess up and...I'm going to mess this up...I probably already did, but-- No pressure...right? I don't know, I know that this is a lot but sometimes my mouth speaks and I just...bad things happen when I mess up and...I don't want to lose you, R."

Grantaire kept his hand in Enjolras' curls while the other spoke, his fingers gently weaving through them. Without properly thinking about it, he gently tugged at a strand of hair, curling it around his finger. He raised an eyebrow at the name 'Petitaire' but filing this information away from later - this was not the time to be commenting on it. The tight feeling in his chest grew stronger, in addition to the feeling of a knot curled inside of his stomach - which did not come from the consumption of alcohol. "You..." He started, "you aren't losing me, Enj. You should know by now that I am not that easy to get rid of. After all, I returned even after you told me to leave... back then." Grantaire shrugged, a small smile on his lips, "I will not be thrown off by you running away. I will be there for as long as you want me around. And even beyond that." When had Apollo snuck up to them again? The dog had curled up in front of them and it was a calming presence. "You haven't messed this up, I promise. And you should always do what you need to do to feel comfortable with yourself and your surrounding." Which was something that he himself should be trying to strive for more often. "I wish I could promise you to stop being sarcastic around you but I fear that this would be a promise I would be breaking but I what I can promise you is that, no matter what situation we are in, you can ask me to clarify my words if you are not sure what I mean. Maybe this will help. Because one thing I do not wish for is for you to feel like you can not talk to me or come to me if I do or say anything that you do not know how to deal with. I would promise to be like a rock for you if you need something to lean on but yet again it is something I can not freely give to you as I feel that I can barely even hold myself together. But I will try and help you when I can." Unless it was about political decision that he did not agree with. Which was something he should probably say, especially because Enjolras had just told him that he had trouble reading in between the lines but for now, he had laid so much out in the open already and he was growing exhausted. "I am not someone who can easily speak about how I really feel," he offered in return - as a 'thank you' for Enjolras' opening up. "This... us... it is going to take a lot of work but we knew that when we got into this in the first place. And, I repeat, you will not lose me just because things get hard. I am not going anywhere."

Enjolras did not still at the hand shifting through his hair, nor did he still at the words spilling forth from the mouth of Grantaire, but it wasn't out of discomfort, more out of 'this is more comfortable'. The things that were being said were honest and Enjolras...wasn't really sure what to do with that, but it was good. It was...welcome. And...he could ask for clarification. That was something he hadn't...had before. Though, then again, he hadn't had any of this before. He slowly nodded when Grantaire's words began to slow. "...Thank you, R. I'm sorry, I know that I'm not what you expected, but...thank you for...all of this. And for not making promises you know you can't keep. And it's mutual, I need you to know that. I care for you, I just... Like I said, everything feels wrong and like every move I make is wrong and things are fucking up all over the place and...it's happened before and logically I know that tiny mistakes won't make you leave, but I can't help but feel that they will, and... When you told me that I was the only one you believed in, I... I ca-- ...I already know that tiny mistakes are so much worse than they actually are and that if I fuck up everything could go to shit and-- ...It's so much pressure, but it's pressure that I should be able to handle; it was alright before, but... I don't know. I don't want you to...feel like you have to stop, I just-- I needed to say it because if I didn't I don't know what would happen and I don't want to-- I can't mess this up."

Grantaire hummed softly in response, his fingers still tangled in the hair. "I apologize if this made you feel pressured." He started, slowly, pausing for a moment to think of what to say next. "I.. do not know how to deal with everything that you are feeling but if there is anything you feel I can do to help, please tell me and I shall try." Another pause. "It is alright not to be okay, you know that, right? Things you might have been okay with before... everything, can now feel wrong and that is okay. A lot has changed and while most of who we are hasn't changed, it would be surprising and honestly unrealistic if nothing would have changed. What happened..." Grantaire hesitated, not liking to be talking about this but he had been alone with his thoughts for days and now he just... he needed this, "Was horrible." Which was an understatement. "And it has left its mark on all of us. It is something we'll have to learn how to deal with." He had no idea where he was going with what he was saying, all he knew was that he needed to say something. He hadn't realized that he had started picking at his trousers with his free hand. "Is there anything that I can do or say that would ensure you that I won't be leaving?"

Enjolras shook his head a little. "It's alright. I...am used to to pressure." A hesitation followed this, however, because...it wasn't alright to not be okay. For others, of course, but what excuse, what right did he have to not be okay? And his brow furrowed as he shifted, just a little, just enough so that he was sitting parallel to Grantaire as opposed to perpendicular to Grantaire. He wasn't touching him any more than he previously had been, he was just...more on an equal angle, as he slightly pushed at the floor with his fingers. And he shook his head. "...I don't know."

Grantaire held his breath when Enjolras started moving, worrying that his boyfriend might be moving closer to him than was comfortable at the moment but when that did not happen, he.. relaxed again. "Mh." Was all the noise he made as he glanced down at his leg where he was still fidgeting with his trousers. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to get rid of the pressure he felt in his head - but he was more than aware of the fact that closed eyes were not going to help. "If you ever think of anything - or notice anything that could help, tell me, okay?"

Enjolras hugged his legs a little closer. "If you want me to go, I can go. I have the cats, I just...you...were there...even though you didn't... When it counts, even...when I fuck up, you're... I don't know how..."

Grantaire turned to look at Enjolras, fighting to not let out a sigh. "You don't have to go. If you feel comfortable here, you are welcome to stay." He paused, wondering if he should pull Enjolras in a sideway-hug - but that would involve more physical contact and he couldn't right then. But what if it was what his boyfriend needed? "I just... if you... do you need... closer?"

Enjolras exhaled a little, shakily, glad that he was permitted to stay. Staying was better. But at the prospect of being closer, his stomach lurched and the negatory was abrupt; "No." His breath caught in his throat, him immediately clutching at his legs again before he forced himself to physically relax. "No, it...I don't... I don't want to mess up. I can't mess up. You just... You won't even notice I'm here."

Grantaire let out a small, frustrated groan that he couldn't hold back. "I don't mind you being here. I don't mind noticing you're here." In fact, noticing Enjolras was there would... make it obvious that he felt comfortable and actually wanted to be there. With Grantaire. Which... was still something he did not understand. But it was nothing he was going to question in case Enjolras would come to his senses. "You won't mess up. If I notice you're around, you're not messing up, okay? I... like having you around. Even when we're..." He trailed off, making a vague noise, not knowing how to explain... this.

Enjolras 's nerves spiked at the groan, because they usually indicated that he'd fucked up. The words were contrary to what he expected, however, and his head shifted a little in surprise. "...Okay. Even when we're...what? ...Fighting? Is that what we did? I don't know what..."

Grantaire just nodded and shrugged at that, knowing that this was probably going to confuse Enjolras but... verbalizing what exactly he meant was hard and he had done so much of it already. It was exhausting. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I can't really... not right now. It's been... too much."

Enjolras nodded at Grantaire's words. "I know. It's a lot. I just... I don't know what I'm doing and that... I don't know how to do this. I'm sorry for pushing, if... I can go if you want me to. It's okay. I have the cats."

Grantaire shook his head. "Don't leave, please."

Enjolras 's breath hitched in his throat. "Okay. ...Tell me if I fuck up, though. All I need is to be told 'you fucked up' and I'll fix it. I need you to tell me if I fuck up or I'm going to think everything is fucked up."

Grantaire knew that he wasn't going to tell Enjolras if he 'fucked up' but he nodded anyway because he really did not want him to leave. "Stay."

Enjolras nodded but he still felt Wrong and off-kilter and like every decision he made would lead to a spectacularly fucked up situation. He couldn't help it; it'd been building and building for a while now and all he could do was just...nod. He needed to not fuck up. Not here. Not with Grantaire. If he fucked up with Grantaire he'd lose him, and he couldn't do that. If he lost him, he... His breath caught again and his hand came out unbidden, lightning-fast and gripped onto Grantaire's knee, his shoulders shaking and his eyes flashing with panic and oh fuck he'd fucked up hadn't he he'd put his hand out and that was a fuckup of excruciating proportions and what the fuck was he meant to do now if he took his hand back then that might fuck this up more and if he left it there it might be fucked up more and what the fuck was he meant to do here he couldn't do it he couldn't do it and he didn't realise that he was rocking slightly, gnawing at his lip again, but he yanked his hand back, slamming both hands down against the ground instead.

Enjolras nodded but he still felt Wrong and off-kilter and like every decision he made would lead to a spectacularly fucked up situation. He couldn't help it; it'd been building and building for a while now and all he could do was just...nod. He needed to not fuck up. Not here. Not with Grantaire. If he fucked up with Grantaire he'd lose him, and he couldn't do that. If he lost him, he... His breath caught again and his hand came out unbidden, lightning-fast and gripped onto Grantaire's knee, his shoulders shaking and his eyes flashing with panic and oh fuck he'd fucked up hadn't he he'd put his hand out and that was a fuckup of excruciating proportions and what the fuck was he meant to do now if he took his hand back then that might fuck this up more and if he left it there it might be fucked up more and what the fuck was he meant to do here he couldn't do it he couldn't do it and he didn't realise that he was rocking slightly, gnawing at his lip again, but he yanked his hand back, slamming both hands down against the ground instead.

Apollo's ears perked up and a low whine escaped him once Enjolras had started to be in distress. Grantaire on the other hand froze, not knowing what had caused this reaction. He had seen others in distress, hell, he had been in this situation many times before. Thinking back, he was wondering what he had said or done for Enjolras to react like this - but this was not that important right now. First, he needed to make sure that Enjolras was going to be okay. Which. Merde. He wondered if he'd be okay to touch his boyfriend - hands only since he had clung to his knee before turning to the ground. "Enjolras," he started, trying to get the other's attention. "Breathe with me." With that, he started slowly breathing in and out, loud enough for Enjolras to hear. His hand was hovering above Enjolras', unsure if he should offer the hand or not.

Enjolras was very much in distress, yes, this was something that was abundantly clear, and he didn't know why, which, y'know, made him even more distressed. Or what to do about it. This had happened before, though, he knew that this had happened before, and as he absently shifted back and forth, he worked his fingers against the ground, overwhelmed and more than a little anxious. He shook his head at the request, unsure if it was feasible at this particular juncture.

Grantaire kept on breathing the same way he had just started, while also adjusting his sitting position to a cross-legged one. Apollo quietly whined and Grantaire used one hand to pet his head to try and calm him down, too - knowing that it was easier for him to calm down the dog than an actual other human being. He cursed mentally because he knew that he had no water in the studio to offer to Enjolras after this moment was over. Though that was something that was not of importance right now. Except it was important. He should have had water there. Why didn't he think to bring water? Oh right, because alcohol had a higher priority for him. His mind was running on countless thoughts, none of which he was able to actually hold on to. What kind of a boyfriend was he? He obviously must've done something that caused this for Enjolras and now he couldn't even help him through this? Grantaire moved his hovering hand and set it down on the floor himself, close enough to Enjolras' hand that their fingers were slightly touching and, merde, what if this was something Enjolras didn't need?

Enjolras moved his hand away, but it was just out of being overwhelmed. Though that didn't necessarily mean that Grantaire knew that. His brain was screaming at him and there was kind of a Lot. Just-- Words weren't being good for him. Which, obviously, meant that he therefore couldn't verbalise this, so he just-- Still shifting back and forth just ever so slightly, and in jerking motions, he moved his hands from the ground up to grip at his shirt, pulling it tighter around himself, because even though he couldn't control how much of the world was falling apart, he could control how overwhelmed by it he had to be.

Grantaire bit his lip when Enjolras moved away. Okay. Okay, that had been a wrong move then. Curling his hand into a small fist, he inched away from the blonde, not knowing what to do, how to act or what to say. Not that he trusted his voice given that moment. Somehow he had fucked up big time and he didn't know how or why or what he could do to make this better. He shouldn't have asked for Enjolras to stay. He should've let him go when he had offered to go. Maybe he had misread what Enjolras had been trying to say. Maybe it had been Enjolras' subtle way of saying that he wanted to go. But, wouldn't he have just said so then? Grantaire was confused. And breathing was hard. So was thinking. Or talking. Everything. He needed wine. No, not wine. Wine was for slowly numbing himself. Brandy. Brandy was needed. It would help him just... forget this. All of this. Because whatever he had done or said, clearly had caused everything to get worse. And he had tried to open up, to be clear and upfront... Maybe that had been the mistake. Maybe it would have been better if he would've just fucking told Enjolras what he needed to hear. If this was what happened when he put himself first - which, he really should have known better - then maybe... He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. It wasn't working. Once Enjolras calmed down, he'd speak to him. Make sure that he'd hear anything he needed to hear. He'd hold him close, if Enjolras so wished or would wave him goodbye if he wanted to go home. He could do this.

Enjolras didn't know what to do with Grantaire moving away. Had he-- What had he done? Tugging harder at his shirt, Enjolras turned wide eyes up towards his boyfriend, opening his mouth to speak and closing it again almost instantaneously. He'd fucked up, hadn't he? He'd fucked up. And the anxiety spiked again as he dropped his gaze, and he wanted to reach for him, but the need to hug himself was greater, so he didn't. He wanted to say something, but couldn't. He wanted to intervene, to make this not terrible, but it was terrible, so there was nothing he could do, and it was with that realisation that he just...sagged, putting his forehead to his knee as the world melted into static.

Grantaire wanted to support Enjolras, he really did but he couldn't. Not when he couldn't trust himself right now. Instead, he tried to get his breathing under control - which, when had that changed? But it felt like his throat had closed up and wasn't letting any air in - or out. Merde. It didn't help that this small voice in his mind was insisting that this was it. Enjolras was going to realize just how fucked up Grantaire was and that he wasn't good for him. Which, ironically, he could've told Enjolras from the start but he had let himself be blinded by the little hope he had had and now he had to deal with this. He could feel tears prickling, threatening to spill and he forced his eyes to close, fighting not to let the tears fall. He was not going to make this worse.

Enjolras laughed. The world was static, and the laughter was slightly hysterical in its tiny noises, kind of hiccupy in places, and his hands were pushing and pulling at his shirt, around his side, and he just...couldn't help it.

Grantaire barely heard the noise coming from Enjolras. His mind was buzzing too much and he wasn't sure anymore which sounds were real and which ones were coming from inside his head. He cursed quietly when he noticed the wetness on his cheeks - when had that happened?

Enjolras was getting exhausted. The world was everywhere and wrong and off-kilter and loud and he wanted to go away now. But he didn't. There was no getting away from the world, there was only shutting down. There was just so much, and it was all at once and he didn't know how to deal with the static, so he lifted his head, having stopped laughing. But Grantaire was crying. That wasn't good. Enjolras shuffled over, and sat next to him, and brought his hand up, and put it in Grantaire's hair, and sighed, and scritched the scalp in silence.

Grantaire tensed the moment he felt the hand in his hair, but only for a moment, not having expected the touch. Once he noticed what it was - a hand, Enjolras' hand - he let out a small sigh, once again confused as to what he was supposed to be doing. Was Enjolras better? Could he just let Enjolras take care of him now when he had not just promised himself to be giving Enjolras what he needed? A small whine escaped him, not unlike Apollo's earlier. Apollo who still wasn't insecure himself. Before he knew it, one of his hands went up to curl around Enjolras' wrist - not to remove his hand from his head but just for the touch itself.

Enjolras hesitated, just a little, at the hand around his wrist, before he realised that it wasn't removing his hand but rather holding it there, and recognised it for what it was, and continued. His expression was nonexistent, and he said nothing, but he continued to scritch the scalp, repetitive little circles that served just as much to comfort Grantaire as to relax himself.

Grantaire let out another small sigh, noticing that his breathing started to slow down. The thoughts in his mind were still running on high alert but that he could deal with after the pressure behind his forehead would be gone. Once his breathing had slowed down to a manageable level, he tried to get the thoughts in his mind to quieten down, fully knowing that they wouldn't. "I'm sorry." His voice was almost inaudible and sounded scratchy but he felt the need to force his voice into forming those words.

Enjolras continued to scritch the scalp of Grantaire, and shook his head. "Okay," he forced out, almost immediately frowning and adding on, "It." He sighed, scowled, and, frustrated with himself, put his forehead on his knee. Why now with the words not doing the word thing. Exhaustion and a lot and static. "...Sorry."

Grantaire shook his head slightly, a small, empty chuckle escaping him. "You've nothing to... apologize for." He croaked. After all, he had been the one to fuck up, not Enjolras. He let himself lean forward slightly, feeling that he did need the closeness now but not daring to impose on Enjolras' personal space.

Enjolras shook his head again, and leaned in towards Grantaire, pressing their sides together as he continued to rub tiny circles into his hair. "Lost control. Sorry." At least he wasn't running for the hills...right?

Grantaire closed his eyes, again, as he soaked in the warmth radiating from Enjolras' body. "Same."

Enjolras let out another, smaller huff of laughter, having exhausted his filtration resources, and expanded the circles into tiny spirals. "Today's a lot."

Grantaire nodded slowly. "Yeah." He agreed, not even attempting to say anything else. He was exhausted. He hadn't had enough sleep in the first place and this had just tired him out even more.

Enjolras nodded too. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

Grantaire opened his eyes to try and look at him. "I know," he replied. "This would've happened even with you not having been here, " Grantaire admitted, "So don't worry."

Enjolras laughed again, not really sure what it was about the situation that made it funny, probably the ridiculousness, and he shuffled slightly closer, keeping on doing the scalp/hair-rubbing thing. "I always worry. Miss you."

Grantaire curled his lips into a half-hearted smile himself. "Me too. Always." With another sigh, he inched closer himself while low-key wondering what he was supposed to be doing with his hands.

Enjolras was reluctant to stop doing the hair thing, but did hold his other hand out, wordlessly asking if he'd be okay with holding hands.

Grantaire did not hesitate to take the offered hand and squeezed it slightly.

Enjolras squeezed back, letting out a quiet noise, kind of a humming but also not really, too abrupt and staccato for that. It wasn't displeased, though, it was just...there, and he put his forehead to Grantaire's temple.

Grantaire hummed quietly as he let himself lean slightly against Enjolras where they touched. This was okay. This was good.