#In Gavroche we Trust

[tjjamess]

Wanted to try redrawing Gavroche with my own style and design

the man (child), the myth (he’s real), the legend (we stan)

original image by Emile Bayard

[eleancrvances]

les mis arena tour two-show-day notes

killian sounded like he had a sore throat, but he was still very good, a sweet but determined valjean, expecially at the evening show

bradley's javert is still wild, but vocally i think he's been working on his control and modulation a lot, there were a lot more quiet and nuanced moments and i loved it, i hope he continues like this

but yeah he remains unhinged and does things like grab one one of the students by the shirt and spit "shoot me now or shoot me later" right in his face

he also lunged at valjean at the end of "we meet again", but killian just held him back and quietly said "no. no. go."🫠

and before that he raised voice at "yes, valjean", so killian shushed him, and he very sarcastically whispered "you want a deal"

CHANNAH FANTINE CHANNAH FANTINE MY BELOVED so heartbreaking but a very strong voice

nathania ong too, her on my own was so clear at the matinée, the silence during the pause was so complete you could tell the whole audience was right there with her

caleb botched a couple of notes, but his empty chairs delivered (his voice cracked at "sacrifice" during the evening show and it hurt me)

also for those few that, like me, love adam robert lewis: he was there. he sounds absolutely lovely. i'm almost positive he covered combeferre which i don't think he's really supposed to do?? maybe there's some sickness going around the company

a part of me wishes he'll cover javert next week when i'll see them again in milan

james's enjolras is STRESSED. he delivered "do we have the guns we need?" massaging his temples, like "god help me i'm surrounded by children..." - but he's also hopeful. he has some hesitations and insecurities (he seemed almost angry at himself for trusting javert, and thanked gavroche with a couple pats on the shoulder), but he truly thinks they can do it

(he's also VERY pretty up close. i met him. he smiled at me. i'm totally fine.)

raymond's grantaire remains lovely

obligatory exr notes: james sarcastically clapped along with the others after the "opera" line. then in drink with me he steps up to tell grantaire "enough!" as he sings his verse, but he turns and delivers "just one more lie?" to his face, which seems to genuinely trouble him for a moment

on to the heartbreaking things: in the final battle, grantaire gets shot with dead gavroche in his arms </3

killian booped little cosette on the nose, and did it again in the finale </3

in the evening show right before the suicide bradley sort of ushered valjean and marius out saying "go, go, go" </3

the bishop entered at the end, reached valjean and tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention as he'd done in the prologue, and they hugged </3

the audience was super enthusiastic and there was a standing ovation at the end of both shows. at the evening one before leaving killian stepped forward and raised his arms, like a conductor, then laughed when everyone whooed even harder

[pilferingapples]

An Impromptu Ranking of Hugolian Adoptive Parental Figures

Ursus,The Man Who Laughs : I know everyone's going to want Valjean to be first place, but he's not. Ursus takes the lead not only because he's got two adopted kids, but because he does what no other dad-mom-general-adoptive-parent on the list does, and actually does the grubby hands-on work of Raising Kids. He doesn't have maids or nannies or nuns or any help; he's just a guy living in his traveling van and raising up a couple kids (who arrived at his door horribly sick and injured, even, which he manages to treat?? ) with zero support except for a literal wolf. He's honest with them and openly loving and teaches them how to survive in their own time and society. Too bad about the kids existing in a really bleak Hugo novel, but you did great, Ursus. 10/10.

Jean Valjean, Les Miserables: He loves Cosette SO much and tries SO hard! Second place only because (1) during the convent years, he sees Cosette for one hour a day , and while that limitation is definitely not his ideal choice,it does mean he's just not the constant primary caregiver the way Ursus is and (3) More Trauma means More Problems, and especially So Many Communications Issues. Plus a really really misguided faith in the importance of attaining bourgeoisdom. IDEK , man. Heroic efforts, heroic failures, 18/18 Napoleonic Antithesis Points maybe?

Lethierry, Toilers of the Sea: a decent normal guy raising his niece, who has very normal 19C Dad Faults-- too much trust in stereotyped gender roles, and too much focus on his job at the expense of his domestic life. Absolute middle of the road, not heroic as a parent but also doesn't do anything that makes me go "holy shit NO , dude" . He's just a humanly flawed but caring parental figure. 5/10 complete middle of the road

Cimourdain, Ninety-Three: Listen I LIKE Cimourdain. I respect his whole narrative arc. I think he's probably the most interesting character in the novel. But he loses Parenting Points for (1) not being the primary hands-on caregiver for large chunks of his adopted kid's life and (2) uh. the whole. the thing where he kills his adopted kid. There are circumstances yes I know but still . If you are directly responsible for the death of your kid you are going to lose points in the parenting games. That's just how it is. 4/4 with full symbolic meaning of the number.

Frollo, Notre Dame de Paris: HOLY SHIT NO, DUDE.

Semi-adopted THREE kids and TWO died horribly and he directly threatened the life of the last one. Even before then he's not a GREAT parent, largely leaving the raising of his sort-of sons up to others, locking one up in a single building, letting another fall into addiction, and the third go starving and homeless on the streets. So it's already not doin' great but arguably he's Trying?

But then he wants to bang a teenager, and decides they're all expendable. Absolute worst reason for the absolute worst parenting decisions. 8/8 you ARE the Fatalité , dude, look within and quit blaming your issues on teenagers.

Honorable Mentions: Radoub, Ninety-Three: gets the "like a mother" comparison, goes through a firefight for his adopted kids, stays sweet and cheerful and soft around the babies to the end. Gets set here because he's NOT an adoptive single parent, he's actually co-parenting with the kids' birth mom and they are delightful platonic parenting partners. We wish you, Michelle, and the kids all the best , Radoub! Good job getting out of your novel without killing anyone you love!

Gavroche, Les Miserables: OK he only manages to adopt the momes for an evening, and for an adult I'd be docking All The Points for that, but for an unparented 12 year old he is doing GREAT. He even kept looking for them afterwards! The biggest and most sincere You Tried star for you, Gavroche, it's not your fault you're all getting atomized hard enough to explode a barricade.

Dishonorable Mentions:

Gillenormand, Les Miserables : If you're gonna hold a kid as a financial hostage and destroy his dad's life because the kid's soooooo important to you, you might also try making sure that kid has any way to know that you actually give a damn about him? Maybe at least don't beat him with sticks? Legos be under your feet forever, Gillenormand!

The Slaveowner Uncle in Bug Jargal : absolutely perish

[wanderinghedgehog]

Time to finally relay my thoughts on the Les Mis I saw August 3rd, 2024.

Keep in mind, I went into this as someone who wanted to get my mother and brother to like this story. Also, I’ve seen a million and one recordings, so I know the show pretty well already and am aware of my preferences concerning it.

Act 1

Intro was so good. I like the boat format for the prisoners. It gives the actors something to do and is good and clear tonally.

This Javert did not make a strong first impression. He seemed extremely muted idk.

So I’m not a Nick Cartell fan. I’m sorry. I just don’t like him that much. I might be able to explain why at some point.

The lighting was amazing in these opening scenes.

The bishop had such a nice voice. I always love the bishop.

Valjean went nuts with the “took my fliiiiiiiiight”

Oh I forgot to mention that all of the house lights hadn’t turned off yet. It was a little weird. They eventually got turned off either before or after Valjean’s Soliloquy.

Speaking of the Soliloquy, I’ve heard a recording of this actor singing this song before and it definitely sounds better in person. Better, but still not my favorite. Nick Cartell has a tendency to stray from the melody for acting purposes in a way that I’m not a fan of.

Also, this version had Petit Gervais. It was weird. And distracting. And disjointed. I didn’t like it.

I love a good ensemble number, so at the end of the day was great. Also, the transition from the crowd to the factory was so smooth.

I remember the foreman I think had a line that changed from the original that I was kinda confused about. Overall, I think this was a thing with both at the end of the day and lovely ladies. Like there were a handful of words that were switched and I didn’t understand why.

This Fantine was quite good. Like I’m glad this was the Fantine that I saw with my mom and brother. Solid performance.

This Bamatabois was odd. I think he was too much of a caricature.

Once again, Javert is quite subdued. Intimidating, sure. But not all that interesting otherwise. No swagger.

The staging of Fantine’s Arrest felt just a little busy, but that’s really a nitpick.

When did they cut part of Fauchelevent’s line in Runaway Cart?

So I really listen for how an actors says the line “forgive me sir I would not dare.” This was fine. Nothing special.

I will say that I liked Nick Cartell’s version of Who Am I.

Fantine’s death was so sad. I prefer versions like this where they don’t have her get out of bed. It’s simpler and it gets across her weakened state a little better, I think.

Confrontation was amazing. This Javert was really starting to prove himself here. It’s like the actor just started having fun with it.

This little Cosette was absolutely adorable. I’m not usually a fan of Castle On A Cloud, but this was great.

This production had a good Thenardier couple. Their comedic timing was great. This is not to discredit the amazing job that they did, but I’m not a huge fan of the Thenardiers. My family liked them a lot though, so they were definitely very funny.

So Look Down was a success because my family immediately liked Gavroche. As they should. My brother said that that the Look Down melody was one of his favorites.

Now I think it’s good to mention that this version didn’t have the time skip projections. Like those things that tell you what year it is. None to be seen. It confused my family. I was cool with explaining it though.

My brother found Marius annoying. +1 sibling point. We can make fun of Marius now. (to be clear, the actor was very good)

This Eponine was pretty cool, but my mom pointed something out that I think is worth mentioning. She’s not lit very well. My eyesight is shit, so I’m trusting my mom when she said that it was impossible to see the actor’s face.

This Cosette is so adorable. Like everything about her so sweet. In love with her.

This scene had an interesting set design that I don’t know if I’ve seen before. It looked a little more slanted than usual. It was cool though.

The beginning of Javert’s Intervention got a laugh, so that was good. He really leaned into the drama more than before.

During Javert’s Intervention, I tend to find Thenardier’s part a little overwrought and distracting. Unfortunately, this was one of those cases. My brother liked it though.

Javert kinda went back to being subdued for Stars. Actually no. He brought some energy for “and so it must BE”

Les Amis in this production were fantastic. My mom really liked Red and Black apparently.

This Enjolras had a weird fluttery vibrato that I’m kinda obsessed with.

Kyle Adams’ performance as Grantaire was magical. I don’t know if I can point out specific moments, but it was fantastic.

I am once again in love with Cosette.

Neither my mother nor brother were fans of the romance aspect of the story. I don’t blame them.

That said, the harmony at the end of heart full of love was angelic.

One Day More is always a showstopper. No notes.

Actually, I will mention that Javert hasn’t changed costumes yet. We don’t get to see his disguise til the second act. I kinda like that because, if you don’t recognize him immediately at the barricade, it makes the reveal later kinda fun to watch.

Oops turns out I’ll have to post this in two parts

[dolphin1812]

Not Enjolras yelling “French Revolution” in France!

I love that he seems to continue joking with Gavroche, asking him if he still wants his carbine. It’s a tense moment, but he’s working to keep everyone’s spirits up, too. And since Gavroche has been good at that, he’s trusting him to help with that (and showing greater trust in him by asking, too). Enjolras continues to delegate as well, placing Feuilly in charge of several men. Enjolras is definitely an important figure at the barricades, but he’s working hard to make sure he isn’t the central one; everyone participates, and he’s just making sure everyone can do so to the best of their ability.

The discussion over the flag reveals the importance of symbols at the barricade. It’s likely another aspect of keeping morale high, since it represents their cause and signifies it to attackers. But understandably, the barricade is dangerous and everyone seems reluctant. We just got through the first attack (and while Enjolras’ cry is hilarious, it’s also at a tense moment – the guards can’t really see them, so choosing to challenge them with that cry is accepting the start of a fight), so the reality of the conflict has further set in. After all the dark moments, keeping everyone optimistic is important, and that makes symbols even more valuable.

At the same time:

“Not a man responded. To mount on the barricade at the very moment when, without any doubt, it was again the object of their aim, was simply death. The bravest hesitated to pronounce his own condemnation. Enjolras himself felt a thrill.” Even Enjolras is scared! I feel like this inclusion serves several functions. On the one hand, it humanizes him, once again taking him from a “great man” to just another person on the barricades, albeit one with a bit more authority. On the other, since we know Enjolras’ politics and commitment to his cause (not to say the others aren’t committed, but he’s among the more radical Amis and any Ami will be more impactful than a random person), we really feel just how scary raising that flag is. If even Enjolras hesitates, the danger must truly be grave and the atmosphere dire.

[breadvidence]

Caught up on Les Mis Letters, and I have to issue a correction on my '25 commentary: I complained about Javert's drowsiness in the Corinthe, but this is out of the Brick, where we read in IV.XII.VII that "since entering the room [Javert] had fallen into a reflection of sorts and seemed no longer to notice anything going on around him". Toulout might be more sleepy than contemplative but the spirit is there.

What's going on with this, though? The qualifiers—"of sorts" "seemed"—pull weight, but I'm not going to take them as making the meaning contradict itself, so. A singularly unreflective character whose profession is noticing things takes a moment to do the opposite.

Well. From a practical perspective, Victor Hugo needs Javert to be stuck at this barricade, and Gavroche needs to notice him before the reverse, so the moment of inattention is useful to move the narrative where it needs to go.

Speaking from inside the story, though—it's curious. These reflections "of sorts" could be nothing deeper than taking stock of what he's learned thus far, deciding whether it's time to leave before it becomes difficult to slip away and report. Or, to throw together a theory I won't commit myself to: maybe this is a moment of disquiet. I don't believe he's got the capacity here to doubt Authority/his superiors/orders, but he very much can doubt himself, and he's far outside the bounds of honesty in his behavior—he has actively participated in building the barricade, these people have shown him enough trust to arm him and he's presumably said something in the course of those interactions that didn't come across suspicious. I don't think he's disquieted on the account of the revolutionaries (they're outside society and betraying their trust surely wouldn't occur to him as a moral failing), but his actions might unsettle his sense of himself as perfectly honest. When he smiles upon being confronted, is it with relief that he can discard a discomfiting cover?

I don't entirely buy it myself. That strays a little close to thinking, which canonically this guy doesn't do. But Javert's psyche is a rickety structure built on uneven ground, and it makes sense to me he would occasionally pause—maybe bewildered by his own pausing—as he forces his observations/feelings into conforming with his unreality.

[midwinterrmemento]

Belonging

➢ pairing: Isaac x GN!Reader [Ikemen Vampire]

➢ prompt: Winter Comforts

➢ word count: 1,610

⚠️ content warnings: None!

It’s a little bit late, but this is my entry for @scummy-writes​’s Isaac Week 2022! I wanted to make sure I wrote something for him this year because Isaac is my favorite character across all the Ikemen games and he deserves to know he’s loved, so I’m glad for the opportunity to spoil him a little :)

“Watch out!”

At the sound of Napoleon’s voice, Isaac, who was knelt down to guide a young student through a set of equations, looked up in alarm—and found that he was about to be on the receiving end of a snowball to the head.

“Gods—?!”

Thanks to his vampiric reflexes, he managed to leap out of the way just in time, tumbling backwards into the snow in the process. The snowball whizzed past and hit the wall behind him with a thwack. He stared at the spot it had struck, wide eyes blinking rapidly, as familiar shrieks of laughter filled the air.

Since it was pretty mild for a day in December, it had been Napoleon’s idea to hold lessons outside at their little neighborhood école as usual. It was shaping up to be a snowy winter, and they had already lost out on several days with the children because of bad weather. As much as he wanted to rectify that, however, Isaac had been a little unsure about the idea. After all, it was still snowing and, even if the children turned up, there was no guarantee they’d be in the mood to study. They might even get sick, being outside in the cold. He only ended up going in the end because Napoleon convinced him it would be fine.

Now, as he laid on his back in the snow, surrounded by laughing children after having narrowly dodged a snowball that might as well have been a bullet, Isaac had to question his decision to trust him.

As he turned around bewilderedly, it didn’t take long to find the culprits—a group of giggling children who were scurrying to hide behind Napoleon’s legs. While he was scolding them gently, something about the sheepish grin on his face made Isaac suspect that his fellow teacher wasn’t completely innocent in the matter himself.

“Sorry, Isaac. Seems we got a bit carried away,” Napoleon chuckled, shooing the kids out from behind him. As he walked over to offer his hand, the children’s attention followed him all the while, and Isaac felt his cheeks burning as Napoleon helped him up. He brushed the snow off his coat, trying to distract himself from the expectant stares of his students.

“I-I take it you finished your lesson early, then.”

Napoleon shrugged, gesturing at the snow falling around them. “Must be the spirit of the season. The children couldn’t focus today, they’re so excited about the holidays. I figured there wouldn’t be any harm in indulging them, letting them have a little fun.” His grin stretched across his face. “In my defense, I wasn’t expecting there to be casualties.”

At the wave of giggles that rose from the children at that, Isaac reddened, pointing out, “Well… it didn’t actually hit me, you know…”

“That’s a relief, then. You hear that, Gav?”

“Hmm?”

Napoleon glanced over his shoulder, and Isaac followed his gaze to find that Gavroche was still lingering behind him, wearing an expression that was riddled with guilt. What—oh.

“I’m sorry, Isaac!” The boy was suddenly apologizing earnestly. “I wasn’t aiming for you!”

“Oh, that’s—I don’t—”

“I didn’t mean it, honestly!”

“I-I know!” Isaac cleared his throat, trying to find the right words to reassure him. “You didn’t do it on purpose, I know. Really, it’s all right. It didn’t hit me.”

“What didn’t hit you?”

At the sound of your voice behind him, Isaac startled. He turned to find you approaching them, looking curious and a little concerned. You were holding a large canister in one hand, but before he could even ask about it or answer your question, it seemed that the entire école was suddenly running over to greet you. Excited shouts of your name filled the winter air as they swarmed you, the snowball incident apparently long forgotten already.

Isaac breathed a sigh of relief as he was no longer the center of attention, watching instead as you laughed in surprise at being swept away by the children. You shot him an apologetic smile, silently asking him to hang on for a moment. Isaac returned the gesture so as to tell you that he had received the message loud and clear.

“I told you something like this would happen,” he muttered to Napoleon, though his eyes remained focused on you. “Kids get so excitable around Christmas.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the knowing grin that appeared on Napoleon’s face. Isaac coughed awkwardly, turning to face him. “What is it?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But there’s something you want to say, isn’t there?”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

Napoleon nodded in your direction, as you were kneeling down to the children’s height and trying to open the canister as gracefully as possible with gloved hands. Isaac waited a moment for him to continue speaking, but Napoleon nodded at you again, more emphatically this time.

The moment Isaac turned back to look at you, he understood perfectly why Napoleon didn’t feel the need to say anything else—the sight spoke for itself.

As the lid of the canteen finally popped off, both you and the children let out a triumphant shout which, in the children’s case, quickly turned into joy upon realizing what was inside. As cold as the day had been, Isaac couldn’t help but feel warm, seeing the sweet smile on your face as you distributed portions of hot chocolate to the students, scolding them with a laugh for being impatient. He noticed the way they clung to your side, glad that they’d grown to trust and accept you as much as Napoleon and himself.

He stiffened, struck by that realization as you beckoned for the both of them to join you.

“Well, I don’t know about you,” Napoleon said breezily, with a pat on Isaac’s shoulder, “but I could use some chocolate right about now.”

Isaac stayed behind for a moment just to take in the scene. The children’s laughter of protest rang in the air as Napoleon cut in line, claiming it was his right as the teacher. Evidently eager to get back to their snowball fight, some of them went running off with their cups as soon as you handed them over. Napoleon called out warningly for them to slow down and be careful, and you smiled as they turned back to wave at you.

And then, it was his turn.

“Isaac, come play with us!”

“Yeah!”

There were several cheers of agreement, and Isaac stuttered as one of the kids even grabbed his hand and attempted to pull him along. “N-Now, wait a minute...” As he saw the excitement on their faces, however, he couldn’t stop himself from huffing a soft laugh, at the same time exasperated, flustered, and amused. “I… I don’t think it would be a good idea, but I’ll watch you.”

“You promise?”

“Yes, I promise.”

That seemed to satisfy them, and the students scurried back off to their snowy battlefield, Napoleon in tow to keep an eye on them. While Isaac had never been one for snowball fights, he supposed he could understand the appeal when said snowball fight was led by one of history’s most renowned generals. 

He shook his head, chuckling—and then nearly jumped out of his own skin when he suddenly felt someone tap his shoulder.

“Sorry, did I scare you?” Ah... but at the familiar sound of your voice, all of his nerves melted away. He turned around to find you with a cup in each hand, holding one out to him. “For you and me.”

“Thank you.” He gratefully took the cup, allowing it to warm his hands through his gloves. “Cheers?”

The smile that appeared on your face as your cups clinked together made him smile, too. He wrapped his free arm around your shoulders then, drawing you close to him. It was an uncharacteristically bold display of affection for him, and you looked up at him, eyes wide in surprise. As though he was only now realizing what he’d done, a twinge of embarrassment flickered on his face, but he still didn’t move away.

“It’s cold out,” he said simply, hoping you’d accept that explanation and let it drop.

“Your cheeks are turning red.”

“...It’s cold out.”

You laughed and cozied into his side, and Isaac surprised even himself by reflexively melting into your touch. At the same time, one of the students called out to him again to make sure he was watching as the snowball fight resumed. An unusual feeling of warmth washed over him.

It wasn’t just his more outgoing counterpart that brought students to the school, he’d realized. Those who had come here today even despite the weather were here for him as much as Napoleon. He was surrounded now by students who loved to see him, who focused on his lectures and hung onto his every word, who wanted him to share in their fun. He now had a friend who would help him up when he fell, a loving partner who would surprise him with a visit and bring him a hot drink to make sure he was warm, and a home waiting for him at the end of the day. He didn’t have to prove his place here—for the first time in all his years being alive, Isaac realized he truly felt at ease with the people around him.

You nudged his side then, snapping him out of his thoughts. “So, what did I miss? Something almost hit you?”

“Hm? Oh, yes... a poorly aimed snowball. But it’s all right.” Isaac looked down at you, gentle pink eyes glowing with adoration. “Everything is all right now.” 

[aminiatureworld]

Days Gone By

On the eve of battle Grantaire drinks with his friends, and wonders what his life has meant.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Discussions of death; implied character death

Author's Note: Crawling back from months long no fic hiatus to drop Les Mis angst onto you all. Saw Les Mis this past December/January and it did something to my brain - even more so than joining the fandom at like 12 did. Whoops. Anyways, thanks for anyone who's waited for me to post fic in a while. I hope you guys enjoy!

Drink with me, to days gone by

Why was he here? Grantaire couldn’t quite remember. Normally he would chock that up to the liberal amount of alcohol that he drenched himself in on any given day, but tonight he was feeling quite sober. Not for lack of trying to be otherwise.

How did he get here? Why had he walked into that café that day? There were plenty of cafes in Paris after all. There were too many cafes in Paris in fact, and one always seemed to be going out of business right next to another that had just sprouted up. Fate? It would be a nice idea, except Grantaire didn’t really believe in fate.

Setting foot into a café was one thing, but joining a ragtag group of cohorts determined to change the world was another. Now what on Earth could have compelled him to join in that? Sure, his fellow compatriots – if he could be called a compatriot himself – were nice. Joly and Bossuet were great drinking partners. But you could be drinking partners with someone and not join a revolution.

‌

Was it him? Sometimes Grantaire couldn’t tell. Sometimes he thought he might become a bona fide Jacobin, if only for the smile of Enjolras. Enjolras, who didn’t really seem to notice he existed.

Of course Grantaire usually wised up soon after those thoughts. Yet here he was. On the barricade.

‌

Sing with me the songs we knew

Feuilly was singing an old drinking song. Grantaire had heard it first when he was quite young. Though some of the words were different than he remembered. Go figure. Nothing ever seemed to be quite like he remembered it. Even the light of the sun seemed different than he was young. Now everything seemed shadowed. Now he always remembered his apartment as darker than it was. But the house of his childhood continued to be suffused in sun.

‌

Grantaire began singing along, not truly realizing that he was until he hit a word different than the one the others sang. He wondered if anyone was looking at him. They only looked at him when he was playing the fool. Sometimes it was on purpose, and sometimes it just happened. Grantaire didn’t really care either way.

‌

He glanced over at a corner of the barricade, saw Gavroche playing with a bit of rope. The activity was so childish. It was peculiar to that time in someone’s life when grownups talked of silly things and the bangs and flashes of guns were much more exciting. But if there were no flashes and bangs to be found, there were always scraps of rope to make up for it.

Something in Grantaire’s chest tightened. He felt a sudden disgust for the planks of wood protecting them from the soldiers. He felt disgusted by himself. He felt disgusted that he’d not managed to keep this child away from here. He’d tried, he had. But he hadn’t tried hard enough. And to Gavroche guns were just spectacles and bullet wounds merely battle scars.

‌

Grantaire wanted to cry very badly. Too bad he wasn’t drunk enough.

‌

Drink with me, to days gone by

It was time for him to do something. If he didn’t do something right now he would cry. And he’d suddenly decided he didn’t want to cry. It wouldn’t do to cry. Everyone would look at him strangely. And no one would trust him with anything after this. Not that Grantaire really wanted to be trusted with anything. He’d never fired a gun. He didn’t plan on starting to now.

After all, what did he have to fire a gun for?

Grantaire stood up, noting pessimistically that his feet were quite steady. He seemed to be cursed to spend tonight far from plastered. And what if tonight was the last night? There was no point in spending your last night on Earth sober. In spending your last night on Earth getting some of the worst sleep of your life.

After all, this dirty Parisian street was hardly the most comfortable bed in the world. Had Feuilly been singing about beds? Grantaire couldn’t quite remember. His version of the song talked about beds. Who knew if everyone else’s was different. Probably.

‌

Can it be you fear to die?

It started out alright. He was laughing, just as he always did. He was dancing just as he always did. He was winning the cheers and chuckles of his friends. That was his job. After all, what other job could be given the sad sot who wasn’t even a full Ami? Clown. That was Grantaire’s job. To be a clown.

Too bad he’d grown careless. He’d forgotten to practice. The words just slipped out of him.

‌

Will the world remember you when you fall?

Why did he even care if anyone remembered him? It didn’t matter. He’d be dead. Nothing mattered once you were dead. Hell, nothing really mattered when you were alive either. He knew that. He lived by that. So why was he asking himself this? Why did he feel like screaming? Why did he want to cry again?

People were looking at him. Someone was reaching for him. Joly, Joly was reaching for him. Joly was looking at Grantaire like he was something fragile. Something to be pitied. The way that Grantaire sometimes looked at the rest of Les Amis, pitying them for their love for the world. Envying them.

No one envied Grantaire. Least of all himself. And yet.

‌

Could it be your death means nothing at all?

Was he going to die? Was he going to die for something he didn’t believe in? He realized all of a sudden that he didn’t really understand death anymore than Gavroche. Grantaire didn’t want his friends to die. He didn’t want to die himself. But he didn’t really understand it.

Death didn’t happen to you. Not really. It was something you feared, but it never actually happened. He wasn’t going to die, right?

‌

Death seemed like some cruel gift life forced upon you. And he didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die on a dirty Parisian street for something he didn’t even believe in. He didn’t want to become some poor drunk bastard who met his end for no reason.

‌

Is your life just one more lie?

He already knew that though. He already knew that this whole thing meant nothing. That it was ridiculous. That it would fail. That he should never have stepped into the god forsaken café. That he should have kept Gavroche away from here. He knew that. He knew that.

All these thoughts spung around in his head. He tasted gall in his mouth. It was all so repulsive. What had he done with his life? What happened to the light that suffused his childhood? What happened to the warmth?

Why was he shouting?

He hated these thoughts. He hated them. He didn’t want life to be worth nothing. Wasn’t that why he kept chasing a man who would never look at him, who would never trust him? Wasn’t it the hope that he might, even only by proxy, be bathed in light? The light that could only belong to those who believe in life fully. Who believed in the world, who believed in fate, who believe in their fellow men. Didn’t Grantaire want that? Even when he said he didn’t, he secretly wanted it. He coveted that light.

Enjolras was looking at him now. Why now? Why now of all times did Grantaire have to be noticed. He wasn’t playing the clown right now. He’d obviously forgotten how to. And yet Enjolras was looking at him. Staring down from his perch on the barricade.

Even in the darkness Enjolras was full of light. It emanated from him as if he were some faraway angel. Come down to rouse the people of Paris from their beds. Come down to show people into the new dawn.

But he wasn’t here for Grantaire. He never would be. Grantaire could not, it seemed, even touch that light. All he could think about was death. He didn’t believe. He wanted to, so very badly. But he didn’t.

‌

Enjolras climbed down. Fell down. Floated down. Graceful, so graceful. Like a dancer. He reached out towards Grantaire.

Grantaire didn’t really remember lunging away. Only for a moment he thought, he knew. How could an avenger of the people touch a man who didn’t even trust in them?

‌

He needed to clear his head. He was drunk.

Even if he still didn’t feel like he was.

‌

Drink with me, to days gone by

Spindly arms circled themselves around Grantaire’s waist. Tried to. Gavroche was still little. His hands only made it to the pockets of Grantaire’s tattered coat.

He turned around. He looked at the kid. Grantaire had promised to himself that he’d protect Gavroche. That he’d make sure Gavroche came out of this unscathed. That Gavroche would not come out fearing and hating the world the way Grantaire did.

But now Gavroche was the one looking out for him. How funny. How strange. How topsy turvy tonight was. Grantaire let out a shaky breath. Maybe it was a sob. He wrapped his arms around Gavroche, practically engulfing the kid. Inexplicably, he felt a little better. Little people indeed. Gavroche was a good kid.

God, Grantaire didn’t want Gavroche to die. He’d give anything, to make sure Gavroche didn’t die. Gavroche was much too young to die. It would be unfair. It wouldn’t make sense. Not even in this world that didn’t have much logic in the first place.

Grantaire wasn’t really the praying type. The last time he’d gone to mass he’d dirtied his best shirt and his mother had scolded him until he’d cried.

He prayed anyways. He wanted Gavroche to live. Even if Grantaire died. Even if he had to meet what he feared, what he didn’t understand. Even if he had to, there was no reason Gavroche did too. He was just a kid after all. And wasn’t this what they were all here for? The future?

‌

Enjolras always talked about the dawn. The new day. Grantaire could never imagine it. There was nothing beyond today. Nothing even beyond this minute, this second.

If Grantaire had to imagine the future, he figured it probably looked a lot like Gavroche. Just a kid, a thing that had to be looked out for. That had to be protected. That didn’t understand things like guns and armies and revolutions. But that still managed to make its way to them.

And you had to protect it. Even if you didn’t think you’d succeed. You at least had to try.

‌

Grantaire fell asleep staring up at the sky, Gavroche huddled against him for worth. Parisian nights could be surprisingly cold. The clouds hung low in the sky, trapping in the damp. Grantaire imagined reaching out and pushing them away. They’d part easily, like bits of mist in his hands. They’d feel like paint brush bristles against his skin.

Somewhere next to him was Enjolras, watching. Not sleeping, or probably not sleeping anyways. Did angels need sleep? Grantaire wasn’t sure. He wanted to apologize to Enjolras. He wasn’t sure why.

The night was filled with the sounds of gentle breathing. His friends were piled up around him, also trying to find their way to dreams on the cold cobblestone of the streets of Paris. Maybe some were trying their luck on the barricade. They were all trying their luck, in one way or another.

The tune everyone had been singing earlier came to Grantaire again; he hummed it softly. Tomorrow they might die. Tonight might be their last night. What could any of them do? They were at the mercy of life. Of fate – not that Grantaire believed in that.

‌

At least they were spending it together. At least they were not alone. At least they’d spent some good times together. Maybe that was enough. Maybe that meant something. Even if nothing else did.

‌

Here’s to you, and here’s to me.

[antisocial-cheesepuff]

les miserables cluedo au part 2!

SUSPECTS:

Mr. Green: René Grantaire

Rene Grantaire, or preferably “R,” (27) is a freelance graphic designer and guitarist with no formal education. He grew up in the heart of Paris and has never left the city; he can frequently be found busking outside the Paris Metro on weekends or bar hopping along with Courfeyrac (see previous entry, Felix Courfeyrac). R maintains a close relationship with his only sibling, a younger sister, but his relationship with his parents is believed to be strained. Contrary to his cynical nature, R is a regular member of Les Amis de l’ABC (see previous entry, Julien Enjolras) and has been for years. His contributions, however, have more often been described as annoyances rather than anything helpful. Courfeyrac and Combeferre (see previous entry, Charles Combeferre) both commented on this when asked:

CC: “R’s not there to do anything but irritate Enjolras. And he’s been there for years. We all know why, but it’s gotten ridiculous.”

FC: “He just likes to rile up Enjolras and watch his face turn a pretty shade of pink. R can claim he doesn’t believe in anything, but he believes in Enjolras (..) Don’t tell either of them I said that.”

Upon hearing of Courfeyrac’s invitation to Marius Pontmercy’s estate, Grantaire persuaded Courfeyrac to bring him along as well, claiming he had a bad feeling about the situation and didn’t trust him and Enjolras to go alone. Courfeyrac disbelieved him but was never one to say no to causing some potential drama.

Enjolras is currently unaware Grantaire will be meeting them at the Pontmercy estate.

Ms. White: Eponine Thénardier

Eponine Thénardier (22) is a long-time friend of Marius Pontmercy. Working full-time as a waitress to support her two siblings Gavroche (9) and Azelma (13) while taking night classes at the University of Paris has left Eponine with little time for herself. After a difficult and neglectful upbringing, Eponine saved her siblings from the same fate by fighting for and acquiring custody of them as soon as she turned 18. Marius Pontmercy has consistently supported her through her struggles, ever since childhood, and the two have been close friends for over a decade. There was a running joke, which Eponine started, that they spent so much time together they might as well get married. However, Marius has recently wed Cosette Fauchelevent (see next entry), whom he was introduced to by Eponine herself. She also helped plan his marriage proposal, for which Marius had thanked her profusely.

Unfortunately, in the past year, Eponine’s studies and home life have become more intense and she has lost touch with Marius Pontmercy. Marius was hoping to reconnect with his old friend through an invitation to his estate, which he was slightly surprised she accepted.

Dr. Orchid: Jean “Jehan” Prouvaire

(I went a little off-script with this one—Colonel Mustard is the last suspect in the original Cluedo game, but I didn’t have an Amis I wanted to add to this story that I felt I could compare him to. Dr. Orchid is from some of the newer versions of the game, if you want to look it up! :) )

Jean Prouvaire, or preferably “Jehan,” (22) is an undergraduate student finishing up their bachelor’s in biology at the University of Paris. Like Combeferre (see previous entry, Charles Combeferre), they discovered their calling and passion early on in life when they were a child; plant sciences. Having grown up on a farm in the French countryside, they moved to Paris when they were 18 to attend college and explore city life. During their first year, Jehan unintentionally interrupted a Les Amis de l’ABC (see previous entry, Julien Enjolras) meeting and ended up a member for the rest of the group’s existence at the university. Courfeyrac (see previous entry, Felix Courfeyrac) became quite good friends with them and were on the path to something more, but lost touch when the group disbanded and when Courfeyrac graduated. Courfeyrac, however, was supposedly the one who introduced them to toxicology, and Jehan has since redirected their studies to that field, specifically plant toxicology.

Jehan met Marius four years ago in their first year at the University of Paris, where they were roommates in the dorms. Since then, they meet up every now and again for lunch and coffee and call on holidays. Jehan is introverted and despite living for four years in Paris, has yet to make many friends, so they eagerly accepted Marius’s invitation to the Pontmercy estate.

i’m so glad you guys are liking this so far :) i have one more entry i can add to this if you want, and then we can see where it goes from there!

les miserables cluedo au!

(somebody please write this fanfic because i do not have the skills required to)

SUSPECTS:

Miss Scarlett: Julien Enjolras

Julien Enjolras (24) is the only child of wealthy socialites Augustin and Marie Enjolras. They paid his college tuition for the University of Paris before he was kicked out due to disciplinary actions (relating to the protests he held on campus). Afterwards, he cut ties with his parents and officially formed the Les Amis de l’ABC, a political activist group he started at university. Enjolras has been accused by the police force of inciting violence in his rallies and has been apprehended for resisting arrest several times. He is described by his friends and fellow activists as a fiery, passionate individual with a tendency for trouble. Currently, he lives in Paris, France, and is unemployed.

Per his best friend’s request, Enjolras is reluctantly accompanying Felix Courfeyrac (see below) to Marius Pontmercy’s estate.

Ms. Peacock: Felix Courfeyrac

Felix Courfeyrac (24) is a graduate of The University of Paris and a struggling actor. After earning a degree in Theater Arts, Courfeyrac traveled to the United States to fulfill his dreams in Hollywood. Unable to find work after a year abroad, he returned to France and rejoined the activist group he formed in college with Julien Enjolras (see above). He is well known as a party animal and frequently spends his nights bar hopping or at a club. Courfeyrac can be described as gregarious, flirtatious, and at times, impulsive. He is currently living in Paris, France, and is employed at the Corinthe as a waiter.

Courfeyrac first became friends with Marius in university, where he unsuccessfully introduced him to the Les Amis de l’ABC. However, despite their political and personal differences, the two have managed to stay close.

Professor Plum: Charles Combeferre

Charles Combeferre (26) is a graduate student at the University of Paris. Born and raised in Arizona, Combeferre developed an interest early on in butterflies and moths, and has gone on to pursue a Master’s of Science with a concentration in Entomology and Lepidopterology. After obtaining his Bachelor’s Magna Cum Laude at Harvard University, he made the choice two years ago to relocate to France and study abroad. He frequents the Cornithe and is acquaintances with Courfeyrac and Enjolras. Enjolras has been trying to persuade Combeferre to join the Les Amis de l’ABC, but Combeferre has so far turned him down. Despite this, he occasionally attends their weekly meetings in the backroom of the Cafe Musain and voices his opinions. At first glance, Combeferre is on the quieter side, but shows no hesitation in standing up for others or his beliefs. Enjolras describes him as “overwhelmingly intelligent, witty, and unfailingly kind.” Combeferre is currently presiding in Paris and is unemployed.

Combeferre was introduced to Marius through his friendship with his fiancé, Cosette Fauchelevent (see next entry). Their relationship is strained due to their widely differing opinions, but Combeferre accepted Marius’s invitation to the Pontmercy estate nevertheless.

should i continue the suspect profiles? let me know!

[fillsta]

How to explain Les Mis characters to your friends

Enjolras 'Enjy dearest', 'Enj':

Angry blond boy. "Eat the rich". Either gay or aroace. His celebrity crush is Robespierre. He may or may not have a crush on a specific wine lover. Also Aaron Tveit. That's it

Combeferre 'Ferre':

The 'hot' scholar. Rly likes moths I guess. Wears glasses bc he's smart and smart ppl wear glasses. Has done nothing wrong, ever. We love him .

Courfeyrac 'Courf':

Everybody's friend. Flirty, fruity bitch. Round and lovable. Possibly in a relationship with either Combeferre or Jehan. Marius' own personal extrovert. Keeps the group together. Portrayed by the Mighty, the Fruity Fra Fee.

Grantaire 'R':

Likes to drink. A lot. Bi bitch, hopelessly in love with a certain blondie. Hold-hands-before-getting-shot-to-death kind of crush. Rly good at history and philosophy. Cynic. Also, fandom decided that he draws<3. Big hobo energy. Ask the fandom about the actor in the 2012 musical and they'll shed tears

Jean Prouvaire 'Jehan':

Ah yes, the softie. Love poetry and playing the flute. Most likely smoke weed. Plant parent. Gender unknown. We love their hippie bullshit. I don't remember the actor's name but he was kinda cute

Bahorel 'Baho':

The fruity gym bro. Enjoys fistfighting. Possibly Feuilly's bf. Man bun and beard. Studies law but doesn't want to be a lawyer. Doodles instead. Gavroche's idol. His celebrity crush is probably Dwayne Johnson or sth.

Feuilly:

IwbavajsbJzkabzjsvs. We love him. He's pure and innocent. Orphan. Makes fans for a living. Really loves the countries of the world. Headcannoned as Polish. Enjolras' fav ho. Wears flannels. I'll stop here because oh boi I can go on for ages

Bossuet/Lesgles:

Bald guy. Wholesome. He's also extremely unlucky and Victor made sure that's his only personality trait. Polyamoryyyy. His bf is Joly, his gf is Musichetta. It's just... Bossuet, you know?

Joly:

Doctor? Yeah, did I mention he's a germaphobe? Poor guy. Eccentric asf. Carries a cane everywhere. Will wake up in the middle of the night to align his bed according to the earth's poles and shit. Yes, he has a bf and gf, as previously mentioned.

Gavroche 'Gav':

Best boiiii. Smol, like, 10-12 yrs old. Savage. Absolutely destroyed Enjolras when in an argument. Also managed to trick a skilled criminal once. Rip, he would have loved Minecraft. Eponine and Azelma's brother. Courfeyrac's instant son. Looks up to Bahorel.

Marius Pontmercy:

The Most Awkward Human Being. Like, fr. Courfeyrac's emotional support introvert. Possibly the only straight here but who knows??? Idk he's kinda close with Courf. Anyway Enj amd Ferre scare him. Especially Ferre. He somehow gets a gf??? Survived

Eponine 'Ponine' Thenardieur

Marius' side ho. Has a crush on him. Bit I think she's gayyyy. Or bi. There's no way she's interested in men only. Anyway, poor. Terrible household situation :(. Feminist. I hope she gets a gf in her second life. R had a smol crush on her but that was just a phase. She deserved better, like everyone.

Cosette Fauchelevent/Valjean:

Marius' main ho (how this guy manages to get bitches is beyond me). Cottagecore goth (is that a thing?). Adopted. Such a sweet gal. Eponine could also be her gf <3.

Montparnasse 'Parnasse':

Ah him. Okay this guy. He is s narcissistic but a good one. One day he looked in the mirror and said 'Wow im hot lets murder people' and so he did exactly that. Said criminal tricked by Gavroche. 'Dandy'. He's so cool I love him sm.

Azelma Thenardieur:

Poor girl doesn't get any development. She's just there. Survived. Is rly cool tho, trust me.

Jean Valjean:

Stole bread and went to jail for 19 years. Villain origin story. Then he stole from a child (which may or may not have been Feuilly but that's another story for another post) and he instantly went good. Became mayor and businessman. One of his employees died so he found her daughter and raised her. Survived for a while. Is supposed to be the protagonist lol. Wholesome grandpa

Inspector Javert 'Jav jav man':

Is his life's goal to arrest Valjean. I say enemies to lovers trope. Starts off as a bitch, tbh.

Fantine:

My poor girl deserved the world. Her bf got her pregnant and fled :(. She gave Cosette over to some strangers to raise her while she worked in a nearby town, sending them money for Cosette's expenses. That's a no no there but ok. Gets fired, becomes a prostitute, dies. So of any of you out there shame sex workers I'll choke u while u sleep.

[expired-applejuice]

Part 3 of Incorrect les mis

Bahorel: hey! we are not children.

Valjean: THEN EFFING ACT LIKE IT

Courfeyrac: pfft it can't be that bad, he censored fuck

Grantaire: that's true if he was really mad he would've said fuck

Feuilly: I definitely reserve fuck for when I am angriest

Bahorel: say fuck Valjean

Valjean:

Valjean: you children don't deserve the satisfaction

___________________________

Valjean, walking into the room: what's going on?

Enjolras, standing on Javert's desk:

Combeferre, standing next to Enjolras holding what is obviously Javert's computer to the ceiling:

Courfeyrac, holding two rolls of duct tape:

Enjolras: this doesn't concern you

Valjean: alright then

___________________________

Javert: You know that feeling of disappointment after you wake up in the morning instead of dying in your sleep?

Valjean: No...

Javert: Oh, okay then, nevermind.

Valjean:

Valjean: Oh, so we're just not gonna address that.

___________________________

Courfeyrac: I don't think Enjolras is very happy with you

Grantaire: why do you say this

Courfeyrac, reading the message: "Dear Grantaire, I

hope this message finds you before i do."

___________________________

Javert: Jehan Prouvaire, in my office

Courfeyrac: oh shit Jehan got full named

Eponine: he really just said welcome to your funeral

Grantaire: I've never been happier to be me right now

Prouvaire: this is rock bottom right? I can't make it any worse if I ran right now?

Everyone:

Combeferre: I'll just go ahead and call the coroner now...

___________________________

*Combeferre walks into the room*

Feuilly: I bet you can't fit another one.

Bahorel pushes another mini marshmallow into his mouth which is stuffed with them:

Grantaire, marking down a tally: sixty two marshmallows

Feuilly: I bet you can't fit another one

Bahorel goes to pick up another marshmallow

*Combeferre walks out of the room*

___________________________

Enjolras: ok. who got hurt?

Combeferre: what?

Enjolras: you're smiling like you just saw Marius trip over his own two feet.

Combeferre, giggling: actually- he just slipped- cracked his right hip-and- and broke his wrist

Enjolras, gasping: oh my god! where is he

Combeferre, laughing: i need- i need to go get Joly. he needs- he needs a doctor.

Enjolras: you are a doctor- but I don't trust you with Marius, you might make it worse

Combeferre walking away, laughing: HE CRACKED HIS HIP. WHAT A FUCKING DUMBASS

___________________________

Javert: seriously?

*Joly and Bossuet are standing back to back, protecting Musichetta, Gavroche is standing on a table, Eponine is holding a chair, Combeferre is sitting at is desk holding a file like a tent over his head, Grantaire is under the table with his whine, Enjolras is stuck on top of a bookshelf, Feuilly is throwing fans, Bahorel is attacking Courfeyrac, Prouvaire is on the ground in the fetal position, Marius and Cosette are reading, while Valjean drinking a cup of coffee in the corner. Everyone and everything is covered in silly string*

Javert: even you Valjean? expect this from everyone else but you?

Valjean: it's lonely being the other parent

___________________________

Enjolras, in a jail cell: What about my Miranda rights!? You're supposed to say I have the right to remain silent! NOBODY SAID I HAD THE RIGHT TO REMAIN SILENT!

Combeferre, in the cell next to him: You have the right to remain silent, what you lack is the capacity.

___________________________

Musichetta: Explain it to me again, slowly

Enjolras: The door was locked

Courfeyrac: And we needed to get inside

Grantaire: Because we ran out of snacks

Combeferre: And we knew you'd have some

Musichetta:

Joly: So you scaled our apartment complex to open our kitchen window from the outside for snacks?

The other four: Exactly.

Bossuet: You're all banned from our house

___________________________

Principal: I called your dad

Cosette: Which one?

Principal: Excuse me?

Cosette: Which dad did you call? I have two, and one will be good for me, bad for you. The other will be bad for me, good for you.

Principal: *gulping*

Javert barging into the principals office in his uniform *Cosette smiling*

___________________________

[lupus-bones]

“She sounds like my sis,” Éponine commented, the furrow of her brows etching previous lines deeper as she heard Fantine’s story—all things that brought back that all-too-familiar ache.

Sucking in a deep breath, she absentmindedly messed with her hair that was sticking out of her ratty cap, a shiver starting from the back of her neck to the tips of her toes reminding her just how cold it was.

“They didn’t trust me. ‘Least, not really. I didn’t wanna go to the cops, but a-“ she bit her lip, not knowing how to necessarily define her and Montparnasse’s relationship. “-uh, a friend of mine helped pull some strings. My father was on probation, ‘fter gettin’ locked up. I was 17 when I decided I had to do something. Thought ‘bout emancipation…but ‘nyways. Father broke his probation a week before my 18th, so as soon as I was an adult in the law’s eye, I went and filed for legal guardianship over ‘Zel and Gav’. They didn’t want to give my case a chance, but as soon as they saw we didn’t have any other options and I had a job ‘n a place…it just seemed like they were trying to shut the case as soon as it started.” She shrugged, remembering that time as the emotions washed over her.

“They saw me, a scrawny kid, sayin’ I was gonna take in my kid sister and baby brother,” she scoffed at her own statement. “I kinda just had to sell myself the best I could. ‘Parnasse posed as my boyfriend, as if that’d convince ‘em,” she snickered at the memory of Montparnasse stiffly sitting in the courtroom beside Azelma and Gavroche.

“I guess, if you can show ‘em that you got a good place for her to live, ‘nd that her father’s been good for nothin’, could help your case. I know courts are usually pretty sympathetic to single mothers.”

Éponine paused for a second.

“He has some nerve, just coming in and assuming he can sweep her out from under you. Fuckin’ cruel is what it is.”

Éponine tossed an empathetic, though reluctant, sidelong-glance towards the older woman, taking in her dejected demeanor and sorrowful expression. Leaning back against the wall, Éponine sighed as she let Fantine’s words sink in.

“Bastard. ‘m sorry,” she muttered, before cringing at her own words. “I know that does fuck-all, hearin’ other people ‘pologize for shit they didn’t do, but…” Éponine trails off as she thinks of her own father, what he had done, …and what he hadn’t.

“If y’don’t mind me asking, how old is she? Maybe she’s old enough to have her own say in it all. I know that if…all that-“ she pauses to gesture wordlessly with her hands. “-happened in my house, I never woulda let Papa back through the door,” Éponine offers, hoping to placate Fantine slightly.

“You see, ‘m no mother - but I had to be, for ‘Zel and Gav. When I was 18, I had to get guardianship over them. Longest coupl’a months of my life. If Papa came back now, insisting to change things, he wouldn’t get anything ‘xcept my fist to his face,” she mutters, a course of anger causing her hand to clench tightly, before letting out a deep breath and meeting Fantine’s eyes once again.

[pilferingapples]

Les Miserables 1948 pt 2 (a) : In Which Absolutely Nothing Will Be Explained

My previous review posts here: 1a and 1b

Warning that those posts, like this post, contain spoilers. Yes even if you've read Les Miserables. Especially if you've read Les Miserables. I really strongly advise not reading this post if you think you're gonna see this version soon because going in unspoilered was a treat.

That said, let's roll!!

The second half starts with the Amis!! They're all printing Illegal Materials and discussing the latest censorship laws!

[ID: a group of photos of the Amis, young-ish men in surprisingly good 1830s outfits, reading a paper that offers "1,000 francs to anyone that will provide information likely to lead to the identification or arrest of the makers, holders, or disseminators of revolutionary newspapers, posters, pamphlets." /end ID]

Credit where credit's more than due: this is a fantastic way of introducing a large group of new characters and a new setting (wider Paris)! As they discuss their work, we learn more about them, their goals, and Parisian politics. Elegant and efficient! genuinely , I love this approach and wish more adaptations would do something like it

Unfortunately, while they do showcase several people doing various tasks, they don't name all of them--a shame, when it would have been so easy! But we do get to meet

Enjolras and Marius, the older leaders of the group! Here, Marius (left) is trying to get Enjolras (on the right) to leave Paris for his own safety (it does not work):

[ID: Marius tells Enjolras "And we must think, Enjolras, how you can get away from Paris for some time." /end ID] Courfeyrac, a younger, clothes-focused revolutionary, and of course Gavroche:

[ID: Enjolras brings Courfeyrac, a younger revolutionary, "Courfeyrac, distribute them in the foyer of the opera and at the Jackie club." Courfeyrac responds: "But I can't go like this, I must change my clothes. " Enjolras: "Mm...Do as you will." Gavroche, a kid about 10-12ish, watches this conversation./end ID] and of course, everyone's favorite

tumblr's star of this show

GRANTAIRE!!!

[ID: Closeup on Grantaire! a short, loudly dressed... 65 year old man?? saying " I know by heart the whole Constitution of the Year 2 ! "/ end ID ]] I bet you do, 48! Grantaire! I bet you were there!

[ID: Grantaire brags that "I can talk about it for six consecutive hours. I've been timed. " while Gavroche prepares to burst a paper bag behind him. /end ID]

(Gavroche's relationship with this Grantaire so far delights me, in that it's mostly based on pranking him)

Were you ready?? I was not ready!!!

Anyway then the police break in and there's a SHOOTOUT and Marius escapes and runs through the streets of Paris and Cosette lets him into her and Valjean's house!! Marius flirts with Cosette by guessing that her favorite author is ANDRE CHENIER!! Valjean sends Marius some mixed messages by hiding him from the cops and then telling Marius to go away and then going to Marius' apartment to tell him to never try to see Cosette again and frankly,dude, a guy could think you were following him!

Oh yeah Marius' apartment is an inn run by the Thenardiers. Eponine is the general serving-girl there and he's just as conscious and careful of her feelings as he is in the book:

fckin OUCH

We also find out that Marius is living in the Thenardier's new inn on CREDIT?? Thenardier is just...bankrolling him?? WHY (this will not be explained so just forget it)

Marius goes to meet Cosette (whose dresses, in keeping with this show, are Pretty Darn Good!)

--and I have to say I think this show does a good job (so far!) with Valjean and Cosette's relationship! Yes, he's overprotective and keeps them too isolated-- but he does it out of concern rather than control, and she's not afraid of him, she trusts him and worries about hurting him, not being hurt by him, and he's always concerned for her safety and happiness above all. As she tells Marius in this scene, she never even noticed how isolated she was before-- she's been happy! I think they really get some of that Gothic haunted element around this house and Cosette's life , and it's great!

Marius leaves for the Revolution, telling Cosette to not worry for him (!) and Cosette goes inside and gets told there's a man waiting for her ??

[ID: Toussaint tells Cosette "He's in the hall, he was very insistent. He says his name is Baron Thenard." /end ID]

Thenardier tries to scam Cosette by pretending to be an old friend of her mom's

And it's actually a fantastic scene? Cosette reveals that she knows nothing of her past, and we can see how that's made her vulnerable; and we learn how desperate she is to learn more about the mother she can't remember.

I really like this move to make Thenardier Cosette's villain/nemesis, the haunt from her past! it makes so much sense , given...everything else up to this point...and gives her a chance for some excellent character moments!

Fortunately Valjean interrupts Thenardier's attempt to Scam Cosette! and then Valjean and Thenardier agree to meet at the Old Mill Thenardier Inn?!?

And then ..

ok what happens next should obviously be the Gorbeau Raid, except:

Marius has nothing to do with it. At all. Marius is not anywhere close to this, he's gone to join the Revolution, remember?

Eponine is not? there?

There is A LIGHTNING STORM for no reason?

VALJEAN HAS A GUN

the cops show up despite having absolutely no reason to??

I cannot usefully screencap this scene, its genius lies in its pacing, but also I am not sure how it's relevant anymore to the entire rest of the show! Kicking out Marius' Thenardier/ Napoleon issues kinda destroys half the relevance of the scene and Valjean and Thenardier already having acknowledged each other (and Thenardier knowing where he lives!) removes most of the rest. All we have left is FIGHT SCENE but then that's what this movie is about baby!!!

[ID: Valjean being embraced by the Patron Minette as they all try to avoid the police. No really, that's what's happening. /end ID]

I have no idea what's going to happen at the barricades! I am so excited!

[everyonewasabird]

Brickclub 4.9.3 ‘M. Mabeuf’

We reach the third and last of our answers to “Where are they going?” with M. Mabeuf, who, uniquely in this section, makes zero nonconsensual plans to screw over Cosette.

We learn that he didn’t accept Gavroche’s gift of Valjean’s money. Largely because of class-related hangups--he’s destitute petit-bourgeois, with a strong sense of bourgeois respectability even in poverty--he sides with the official forces of order over his own survival. He’s a scientist and knows purses full of cash aren’t bestowed by the stars (though they are in this book!), so he takes it to the police, who do nothing with it, because this book is Very clear that the police are never useful.

And he continues to decline into ever greater destitution.

He’s already sold off the one thing that could have gotten him out of poverty, the copper plates necessary to keep printing his book. Now we learn they’ve been melted down for their copper, and there’s no direction left for him but down. It feels like Fantine again, though he lacks her grim grip on survival and her determination to save someone else. Whatever Mother Plutarch is to him, her needs don’t come to the fore until she’s materially ill; the question of whether *she* is getting enough to eat in these pages never really comes up.

Like Fantine, we see Mabeuf give up one by one the comforts that made his life bearable, and, like for her, one of those is flowers. His social class and personal tastes mean he has owns rare books, so his beloved books are the last joy that’s wrenched away from him piece by piece. He has a little social capital due to class, but, much like Fantine, he doesn’t shine at parties and attending one gets him no further help. Like Fantine, he sells off his last precious possession because a loved one needs medicine. Unlike with Fantine, we never find out whether Mother Plutarch lives.

When Mabeuf has no books left, he hears the fighting and he goes to join the émeute.

..You know, I was joking up above about him being the only one who doesn’t use his chapter in this section to be controlling to Cosette (he has, after all, never met her), but I kind of think maybe that’s actually really significant?

The section is juxtaposing these three men and the decisions they make here. Both Valjean and Marius respond to their problems in a fog, act on autopilot, make controlling and nonconsensual demands on Cosette, focus on purely personal concerns, and ignore the revolt entirely. But Mabeuf, who’s even more apolitical than they are, who trusted the police as recently as the beginning of this chapter, responds to despair by reaching outward towards larger political efforts that are totally new for him.

He may be in a fog like theirs, and it may be his only intention is suicide. But it still feels like he achieves a broader clarity they aren’t anywhere close to?

He walks straight from misery to the fight that’s meant to end misery. He goes to the people who are trying to help and does what he can to help them. However much or little he’s able to accomplish, however much or little he understands what he’s doing, he doesn’t respond to desperation by using his privilege as a man to control and cause harm, and that’s putting him way, way ahead of Valjean and Marius.

[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.

[teddy06writes]

Do You Permit it?

{*wakes up in cold sweat* Failed L’manburg revolution Les Mis/Les Amis au}

Wilbur Soot x reader

Trigger warnings: yelling, swearing, character death, mentions of alcoholism

Premise: Wilbur, the marble lover of liberty wants nothing more than to gain freedom from the Dream SMP, You, the lowly drunk cynic want nothing more than to be by Wilbur’s side. When Wilbur becomes insistent that the only way to gain freedom is to barricade the few revolutionaries into the walls of what would one day hopefully become L’manburg you see all the flaws in the plan, but unwilling to leave your friends, nor you love that was never meant to be you stick with the foolhardy men, resigning yourself to your fate

{aka I wanted to make les mis content and this was the only way I could think of. also Wilbur = Enjolras but brunet and his revolution didn’t fail}

{Also Tommy/Tubbo as Gavroches but I can’t fully figure out this au, someone help}

{I had to dig out my copy of the brick for this one boys}

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“We will stand our ground! Fight for the freedom we deserve!” Wilbur yelled. 

The men spread around the backroom of Niki’s café cheered in agreement, causing you to sigh, and tip down a portion of your drink, “You do realize Dream will never let you be free right?” 

Wilbur glared at you, “(y/n) if we can fight, and we can prove to him that we deserve our freedom then we can have it.”

“Well sure, if you can fight,” You chuckled looking around the room at the men gathered, “I’ve never seen Jack Manifold pick up a musket. Fundy’s never had the chance to learn to shoot more than birds out in the forest. Tubbo shouldn’t be throwing his life away for something as foolish as this. Tommy just- Tommy just shouldn’t be given a weapon- period.” 

“They know how to fight well enough,” Wilbur spat, venom lining his voice, “If your not going to be a part of this cause then I suggest you leave.”

You glanced around the back room again, “Well this is a free public space innit? I shouldn’t think I could be kicked out of a public place.”

Wilbur's glare was burning, yet you reveled in the heat, watching as he crossed his arms, “(y/n) if you don’t believe in this cause why do you bother to come here night after night? Do you find satisfaction in poking holes in our plans?” 

“Perhaps I find more satisfaction in spending a night with my friends than drinking alone,” You challenged, taking another sip from your drink, “Perhaps I enjoy listening to your fantasies Apollo.” 

“These are not just fantasies, (y/n)! This is our tomorrow! This is the future that we are shaping!” He yelled. 

“This is your tomorrow?” You bellowed, standing up and gesturing around, “This plan of dying like a martyr? You are planning a future you will never see! You do see that this won’t work right? This revolution is doomed! Throwing your lives away for some stupid cause may not be a fantasy, but believing it will work sure as hell is!” 

“You know nothing of belief,” He spat, “You believe in nothing.” 

“I believe in you.” With that you plopped back down into your seat, having said your piece. 

Wilbur sighed, turning back to rest of the group, beginning to give instructions to his men, making plans for the coming days, discussing how they would smuggle the weapons and munitions into the city. 

Niki sat down next to you as she entered from the main part of the café, “Why do you do that? He could like you more if you didn’t always disagree with him.” 

“There's no other way I can get his attention. Nothing else gets through to him.” You muttered. 

“Have you ever tried agreeing with him? I know you dreamed of freedom once.” 

“That was a long, long time ago.” You sighed. 

~~

As days went on Wilbur’s plans grew bigger, the day of reckoning grew closer, and your nightmares of fire and blood became more and more frequent; no matter how much you tried to warn your friends, or drink your fears away they still lurked in the shadows of your mind. 

You watched as their plans continued to take form, never, no matter how much you urged, drifting from Wilbur’s plan of a barricade. 

Many a night found you in the back room of Niki’s café, arguing against everything that they said.

Tonight, as you entered, the café was a flurry of activity, people running excitedly to and from the back room, some not even bothering to hide the muskets or cartage packets they were carrying. 

You grabbed Tubbo’s shoulder as he started to dash past again, “Woah woah woah, what the hells going on here?” 

“Wilbur says that this is it! Tomorrow it begins!” He said excitedly.

“Tubbo! Quit standing around we’ve got work to do!” Tommy yelled thundering out of the back room. 

Tubbo smiled at you apologetically, “Well, I’ve got to go!” 

As the two boys ran off you quickly made to move into the back room, immediately coming face to face with Wilbur, who grinned wildly, “Come to join the festivities (y/n)? I’d’ve thought you’d be off away from here by now.” 

“Its happening then.” You murmured, slightly shocked. 

“Of course it’s happening,” Wilbur spat back, “You come here to try and shut us down again? You gonna try and sabotage our victory?” 

You sighed, starting to turn to leave, “Only a fool celebrates before the war is won Apollo.” 

“Are you suggesting I am a fool (y/n)?” 

You glanced back at him, looking around at the confident men and women around the café, at the people who were surely preparing to march to there deaths, “Never, but maybe, my Apollo, just this once.” 

~~

You had spent the rest of that night wandering around outside, skirting around Wilbur’s men, and moving through the gap in the walls where Wilbur would build a barricade come dawn, all with a bottle in hand. 

Just before dawn came you returned to your lodgings, gazing around at the mess just long enough to make up your mind. 

Somehow you found yourself going to your wardrobe, reaching far into the back, to where Niki and Eret had convinced you to stash your old flint locked pistol once you had figured to keep it, pulling it out and tucking it into your waist band. 

Soon you were back on your way, cartages knocking together in your pockets as you strode down the streets, absorbing the all too calm energy of the city, a storm clearly brewing. 

The time until Wilbur’s plan was to begin seemed to stretched on forever, and yet all the same you soon enough found yourself in a hive of activity, Fundy shouting at people to throw down their furniture, Tommy and Tubbo helping Eret, Niki and the others drag said furniture to form a barricade across the gap in the wall, Wilbur shouting orders and directing everything from the center of the storm. 

Distantly you could hear Sapnap’s yelling, slowly retreating as the barricade rose higher and higher. 

People began to cheer as it was finished, and Wilbur hoisted the L’manburg flag up to sit atop the structure. 

“I need someone to go find out there plans!” He yelled, climbing back down, “Someone they wouldn’t except to be with us!” 

“I’ll go!” Eret offered, “George trusts me.”

Wilbur nodded, “Good man, get going, and come back quickly, this is imperative to our success.” 

Eret tucked their carbine into his jacket, nodding to Niki before heading off. 

“(y/n).” Wilbur said, finally having seen your presence. 

“Apollo.” You nodded. 

“What are you doing here?” 

You gestured around, at the Barricade, and the barrels of gunpowder being rolled out of the stores, “I am here to help.” 

“Help?” Wilbur questioned. 

“Something like that.” You nodded. 

Wilbur's stare cut into you, “Are you good for anything?” 

You leaned back against the wall of the café, “I have a vague ambition that direction.” 

“What could you even do to help? You’ve hardly done anything in your life.” 

You scoffed, “I wasn’t always a drunk. Used to have lofty aspirations and the like.” 

“Be serious.” Wilbur demanded. 

“I am wild.” You argued. 

~~ The day wore on, and the barricade held some semblance of peace, even as Eret returned, quietly announcing herself to Wilbur. 

“What have you learned?” He asked. 

“They aren’t moving forward with any attacks tonight,” Eret reported, glancing around the barricade, “Dream has the badlands on his side, but they’re holding off until tomorrow, getting ready to attack from the right.” 

Wilbur sighed, looking to his men and then back at Eret, “We will take the hits as they come. We can win this.” 

Off to the side you watched as Niki bit her lip, standing up abruptly, “He’s lying!” 

Eret opened his mouth, both in shock and to object, when Wilbur held up a hand to cut them off, “Niki?”

She took a shaky breath, “Eret has been spying for the enemy. Feeding them information.” 

“That's not true!” Eret yelled. 

“I’m sorry,” Niki took a shaky breath, “Check their pockets, Dream probably gave them extra cartages, or a better carbine.” 

Wilbur turned to Eret expectantly. 

Slowly, relucantly, Eret began to pull extra cartages from their pockets, letting them fall to the ground as Fundy and Tommy quickly grabbed his arms, pinning them behind her back.

Wilbur stared at them, disappointment in his voice as he said, “Put them in the café. We can deal with them later.”

Almost on que the sound of boots slapping the earth grew closer, and you quietly began to load your pistol as Dreams voice echoed up the barricade, “What the hell is this?”

Wilbur carefully scaled a part of the barricade , just enough to peak over the top, “L’manburg revolution!”

Dream audibly groaned, then turned to his men, “Open fire!”

Almost immediately all hell broke loose, and shots were exchanged over the top of the barricade as you rushed forward to drag Tubbo back, hissing, “Stay down.”

He frowned, but stayed put as you hurried back forward to rejoin the fighting, shoving George, who’d been attempting to climb the barricade, back down to the ground.

“Get back!” You heard Wilbur yell distantly, “Get back or I blow the barricade!”

Whipping your head around you found that the marble man had grabbed one of the smaller legs of gunpowder, and was now slowly lowering a torch toward the barrel.

“Wilbur no!” Tommy yelled, already trying to get to him to wrestle the torch away.

“And yourself with it?” Dream challenged.

Wilbur took a shaky breath, “And myself with it.”

Behind the mask, Dream wavered, slowly turning back to Sapnap, who shook his head, “Fall back!”

Tommy’s face changed as he jumped off the barricade, whooping as Wilbur laughed, slowly climbing down as various people scolded or congratulated him.

“My life is not yours to gamble Wil!” Niki yelled.

Wilbur waved her away, still looking somewhat relived that his plan had even worked as he started to address everyone again, “They may be regrouping! Hold yourselves in readiness, if we’ve made it this far we can take this victory!” 

Tommy was still grinning and jumping around, grabbing your shoulder, “Did you see how they turned and ran! Ha! Cowards!” 

“And so the war was won.” You scoffed, still looking to Wilbur. 

Tommy rolled his eyes, muttering, “Cynic.” as he went to find Tubbo. 

~~

When night began to fall, and the barricade was still standing, you found yourself sitting next to Niki on the edge of the barricade, sharing yet another bottle of wine from the café. 

“Should I have ratted him out?” She asked, craning her neck to look at where Eret was slumped against the wall of the café. 

“If you didn’t we might’ve died sooner.” You mumbled, taking a swig before handing the bottle back to her.

“Well- I just- I guess you’re right.” Niki tipped the bottle back, taking a long drink. 

Wilbur came out of the cafe, arms loaded with bottles that he began to pass out, Tubbo following behind, passing out bread, before taking his spot next to Tommy at the base of the barricade. 

“Fundy! Take the watch. They won’t attack until it’s light,” Wilbur called, offering out the last bottle, “We’ll use this time to rest.” 

Jack Manifold chuckled, holding up the bottle he’d been given, “Well, lets drink!” 

“Yeah!” Tommy yelled, a little too enthusiastically, “To all the women I’ve had!” 

Tubbo laughed, elbowing him, “You haven’t had anyone!”

Niki chuckled, “To the life that used to be!”

“To the life that is to come!” Wilbur added. 

You rolled your eyes, the liquor you’d consumed that day coursing through your veins as you stood, scoffing, “Yeah, sure, to days gone by. Could it be you fear to actually die Apollo?” 

You shuffled forward, reaching out toward Wilbur, “You think that they’re gonna remember you when you fall? Is your death going to mean anything?”

His attention was back on you, and even if he seemed pissed you lived for that attention so you pushed on, grabbing onto his coat, “Is your life just one more lie?” 

Wilbur seized your hands, throwing you off of him, “(Y/n) that is enough!” 

You stumbled away, blindly grabbing the bottle from Niki, who simply grabbed your arm, leading you back toward the café. 

“What the hell was that?” She hissed. 

“This is gonna fail, I know its gonna fail. How can they not see that Niki? How can they not see that?” You rambled.

Niki pulled you past Eret and up the stairs to the storage room, “Stay up here, I’ll come get you once we’ve won.” 

“Not gonna win.” You mumbled, “Hey- you got anything to drink?” 

“Wine cabinet’s over there, don’t hurt yourself.” 

With that she was gone leaving you to your wine and your thoughts.

~~

It was a warm day, and you watched as Wilbur and the rest gathered around the gap in L’manburgs wall, cheering as Tommy held his musket high. 

Cheers of ‘we won’ fill the air, as your friends gathered around, cheering as the last of Dreams men fled, leaving L’manburg its freedom. 

‘I guess I was wrong.’ Still, you smiled as you moved to stand next to Wilbur and the others moved away.

‘I suppose you were.’ Wilbur smiled.

You looked up at the pale blue sky, ‘it is nice to see freedom, I do have to admit.’ 

‘i knew you’d come around (y/n).’

Sighing you looked at him again, ‘what now, Apollo?’

Wilbur’s hand grabbed yours, ‘we dance.’ 

You froze, ‘d- d- dance? you want to dance- with me?’ 

‘why not?’ he chuckled, ‘i know you can.’ 

Slowly you took his other hand. 

The day was warm, L’manburg was free, and you and Wilbur danced. 

Distantly you heard a yell, “He’s the leader!” 

‘Wil? what was that?’ you mumbled. 

‘whats what?’ 

“Wilbur was the one who nearly killed George!”

You looked around frantically before turning back to Wilbur, whos face seemed to change, looking beyond you, “Shoot me!” 

‘wha-’

Suddenly the day was cold, and not yet begun, as you bolted upright in the storage room of Niki’s café. 

L’manburg was not free, and Wilbur was stood proudly, his back to the wall, barley visible beyond Dream, Sapnap and Sam, who all had the barrels of there rifles aimed at his chest. 

Distantly, you felt yourself standing, “Long live L’manburg! I am one of them.” 

Wilbur’s face fell to shock, “(y/n) what are you-” 

The enemy still stood, frozen as you moved between there ranks, repeating, “Long live L’manburg! Take us both with one blow.” 

Wilbur was still staring at you in shock as you turned to him, “Do you permit it?” 

He smiled, understanding finally in his eyes, and then his hand was in yours as he turned back to face Dream, proud even in his last moments. 

The day was cold and not yet begun, Wilbur’s hand was in yours, and you could not feel the bullets enter your chest.

All you could feel was his hand in yours, his smile still warming your face, until there was nothing more.