#ch: eponine

[sitpwgs]

please, i've been on my knees, change the prophecy.

[devilsmenu]

@hiddenpxpercuts cont. from here because beta editor

"Shit. That's a long ass time" Satana noted. "Yeah, french revolution was a big thing and is in all of the history books" she said. "Inaccurate? How so?".

[royce2005]

𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

Sons of the Republic rushing to the barricades

Enjolras：Me

Grantaire： @kinuno0326

Courfeyrac： @ sora.skylers(on Instagram)

Combeferre： @ minya_0512(on Instagram)

Marius： @nevermorecheesecake

Eponine： @ shirley._.ch(on Instagram)

Beautiful photo shoot by

@ wickedricky_photography(on Instagram)

@ xiaolinya0220(on Instagram)

@ sammaytom（on Instagram)

[lys-9-10]

Posted Ch. 4 of In which Enjolras spurns Grantaire's affections and Éponine gives him a piece of her mind... possibly prompting him to reconsider Preview:

“Cake?” 

Enjolras, who had been watching the affectionate horseplay that had broken out between Grantaire and Gavroche, started and whipped around. Éponine was stiffly holding out a piece of cake to him, set on a plastic flower-shaped plate. Her face was twisted in a rather grimace-like smile.

“Oh.” Enjolras gingerly took the plate. “Thank you.” 

Her duty done, Éponine turned and took to washing the pile of dishes that had been stacked up by the sink.

“May I help?” Enjolras offered. 

Éponine grunted. “No thanks. Eat your cake.” 

Enjolras hesitated a moment — it felt wrong standing here idly watching Eponine work. But as she continued scrubbing the plates without so much glancing in his direction, he eventually bowed his head and took a bite of cake. 

A moment later, a tousled-looking Grantaire appeared in the kitchen doorway. 

“Hey guys. All’s well in here?” His gaze settled on Enjolras’s slice of cake and he beamed. “It’s good, isn’t it? I told you.” 

Enjolras nodded. “Indeed.”

Grantaire reached around Éponine and grabbed the hand towel that hung by her elbow. Enjolras observed as the man seamlessly inserted himself into Éponine’s dishwashing routine, drying every item she washed and putting it away in the appropriate place.

“So, Enjolras, have you and Combeferre settled the thing you were debating last meeting?” Grantaire asked as he rearranged the stack of plates in the cupboard above Éponine’s head (he moved the larger plates to the bottom so that they fit together more neatly). 

“Ah. The matter of the supposed counterargument to consequentialism?”

“Yeah. Something about a doctor killing someone who comes in for a nose job to donate their organs to three dying people...” 

“Indeed. We’ve not settled it between us, no, but Combeferre is wrong. It’s perfectly consistent for a consequentialist to reject that repugnant conclusion. The farther removed consequences that would result from having a society where doctors can sacrifice their patients are, nonetheless, consequences — and undesirable ones at that. That thought experiment, while widely employed to refute consequentialism, is ultimately unsuccessful in doing so.”  

Grantaire’s mouth tweaked into a lopsided, admiring grin. Éponine, on the other hand, rolled her eyes in a thoroughly unimpressed fashion. This did not escape the attention of either Enjolras or Grantaire, and the latter kicked his friend in the ankle. Éponine looked up to meet Grantaire’s unhappy gaze. Then, she ducked her head penitently. 

“I’m gonna go get the gift opening started,” Éponine mumbled, and quit the kitchen.

Grantaire and Enjolras were left alone, the former frowning after Eponine’s retreating back and the latter staring uncomfortably at the floor. Finally, Enjolras cleared his throat. 

“Grantaire,” he began. “If Éponine would rather I not be here, I can —” 

“No. No, E.” Grantaire shook his head vehemently. Then he sighed and dropped his drying cloth on the dish rack. “Look... I’m sorry about Ép. She’s trying. This is just new to her. But she’ll come around.” 

Enjolras blinked, then stared. This?  What was “this”? Was “this” hanging out with Éponine and Grantaire in her apartment? Was “this” a thing now?  

Grantaire stepped towards Enjolras. Enjolras started and almost backed away — but Grantaire only placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. “Come on,” he said kindly. “Let’s go watch Azelma open her gifts.” 

-----

Enjolras watched as Grantaire fastened the new necklace Azelma had received around her neck, fluffing her hair when he was done. 

“Stylish!” he exclaimed. Then, turning to her friend, “Good taste Rachelle!” 

Éponine clucked her tongue in appreciation. “Zelma, that would go so well with your green dress, hey?” She too thanked Rachelle, and then she was passing along the next gift. 

Enjolras shifted his feet awkwardly. He wished Grantaire was the one passing out the gifts right now... That would be easier. He considered navigating around the gaggle of teenagers to get to Grantaire, but decided he couldn’t do so without looking like a fool. So, when Éponine stepped back again to watch Azelma open the next gift, Enjolras drew closer to her and coughed lightly.

“Éponine.” 

She turned to him. Enjolras observed that she flinched ever so slightly, and he felt a wave of guilt. He shouldn’t have come here. It was clear he was ruining this special day for Éponine. He would just give her his gift now and take the first opportunity to leave.

Enjolras straightened his shoulders and held out an envelope to Éponine. 

Éponine’s eyes flicked down to it, then widened in surprise. The envelope was addressed to Azelma. 

“Oh.” Eponine lifted her head again to meet Enjolras’s gaze. He wasn’t certain, but he thought she looked a little abashed. “Thank you…” she said, and her voice was softer than Enjolras had heard it yet. 

When Azelma and Grantaire had finished cooing over her last gift, Éponine walked up to her sister. Dropping the envelope in her hand, she said something too quietly for Enjolras to hear. Azelma cast a surprised look in his direction. Then, her eyes crinkled in a smile. Behind Azelma’s shoulder, Grantaire too was smiling — it was a smile that overflowed with warmth and seemed to make his entire face shine.

“It’s a gift card to Duckfeet Dancewear,” Azelma announced, once she had opened the envelope. “Enjolras, how did you know I dance?” 

“Your sister mentioned it,” Enjolras replied. “She said Grantaire was teaching you. I’m sorry, I’m aware gift cards are dull presents, but I didn’t know —” 

“No.” Azelma shook her head, still smiling kindly. “Thank you. It’s perfect.” 

-----

Grantaire and Éponine stood in front of Enjolras as he slipped his shoes on and retrieved his jacket from the closet. Grantaire was grinning at Enjolras he leaned against Éponine, his elbow perched on her shoulder. As for Éponine, her face was twisted in a rather strained, discomfited expression that solidified Enjolras’s resolve to hurry his departure. “Thank you very much for having me here tonight,” he said, his voice carefully measured. He nodded first to Grantaire, then to Éponine. 

“Our pleasure, E.” Grantaire chirped. “Was fun having you around. Come on over anytime, yeah?” 

Enjolras flinched. Then, he frowned. “Grantaire, with all due respect…” He had intended to finish by saying that that wasn’t Grantaire’s invitation to make. However, at that moment his mind flashed back to Grantaire effortlessly putting away Eponine’s dishes, play-wrestling with Gavroche, fastening the necklace for Azelma… and he wondered whether that would even be a correct statement.

Suddenly, Enjolras’s reverie was broken by Éponine stepping towards him. She looked distressed, and Enjolras again felt remorse at having intruded against her will. But then, she extended her hand to him to shake. 

“Thank you so much for bringing Azelma a gift,” she said quietly. “That was really nice of you.”

Enjolras’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “But of course. You needn’t thank me for that. It was her birthday party after all.” 

Éponine smiled at him — a small, rueful smile that nonetheless seemed to soften her aspect. There was a moment’s silence, in which Eponine and Enjolras simply stood looking at each other. Then Grantaire cleared his throat.

“You’re supposed to shake her hand, E.” His voice was loaded with amusement — perhaps even joy.

Enjolras started. With a somewhat spasmodic gesture, he reached forward and clasped Éponine’s proffered hand.

“À plus tard,* Éponine.” 

Her grip tightened on his hand, and her words somehow seemed laced with significance as she responded: “À bientôt,** Enjolras.” 

------

As soon as the door closed behind Enjolras, Grantaire’s arm flashed towards Éponine and hooked her waist. With a flourish that could only have come from his dance training, he spun her into him and enveloped her in a hug. 

“I’m proud of you.”

Read more on AO3

*À plus tard = See you later **À bientôt = See you soon

[seeinganewlight]

thinking about the similarities of cosette and eponine’s lives and how they mirror each other but in reverse. i’m rereading the book right now and young cosette is about to meet valjean. hugo says that cosette was “unafraid” of meeting valjean in the woods at night, alone, for the first time which then got me thinking about how in the musical after eponine dies, marius says “her life was cold and dark yet she was unafraid” cosette as a child is abused and neglected, but grows into a young woman who was loved and cherished and adored, eponine on the other hand, was loved and cared for as a child (as much as the thenardiers can do so)  and then grew up to be neglected and abused. their lives mirror each other’s (even without marius involved) and it just BREAKS MY HEART

[thaenatos]

LES MIS WLW WEEK - Eposette

[bloodywondersden]

Samantha Barks as Eponine Thenardier in Les Misérables.

[valiantgentle]

christine olivier + éponine thénardier.

I love her... but only on my own.

[centrifuge-politics]

Brick Club 3.6.4, 3.6.5

Continuing the metaphor of love and womanhood as an affliction or a poison, Marius falls under the effect of ‘une grande maladie.’

Marius is performing an act known as “peacocking” except he’s very bad at it. A major part of him is still trying to throw off the effects of this illness.

He makes the utterly baffling claim that, “I was the real author of the dissertation on Marcos Obregon de la Ronda, which Francois de Neufchateau has put, as his own, at the beginning of his edition of Gil Blas!” Hmm...a couple of things here. Considering that Neufchateau published his edition of Gil Blas in 1820, when Marius would have been about ten years old, this seems unlikely. Additionally, Marius is a law student and I doubt he’s spending his time writing dissertations about 16th century Spanish poets.

However, while Marius is clearly mistaken, a certain young author and intellectual named Victor Hugo is credited with writing Neufchateau’s Gil Blas preface. In case you needed more evidence that Marius is a young Hugo. This raises more questions than Hugo is willing to answer, all for the sake of a throwaway boast. Does Marius actually believe he wrote that dissertation? In the universe of Les Mis, did he actually write it? At age ten? How much of Victor Hugo himself is diegetic in this world? We know he is narrating this story because of his asides to the reader, but where does that begin and end? In our world, Les Miserables was written by Victor Hugo, but, in the fictional world of Les Mis, could Marius himself have written the novel post-barricade? Answer me, Hugo!

Will Courfeyrac hold nothing sacred? This terrible fellow...

If Marius is spending every day in the Luxembourg, is he no longer going to school or work? Subsisting entirely on the radiant aura of burgeoning attraction?

Cosette is making a name for herself as a manic pixie dream girl, she’s beautiful, but there’s something sad and wild about her. I really want Hugo to lean more into this contradiction Cosette has. She’s still the same girl who endured an unbearable childhood and escaped the city climbing over walls in the middle of the night. She’s a survivor! And understanding her through that lens is much more interesting than the naive pretty girl trope she’s often forced into.

[stoppit-keepout]

FRUIT SALAD YUMMY YUMMY PLEASE, MY GOD (for the wip grab bag meme)

HELLO!! this is a collab with ps, hi ps :)

THE TITLE: we got capital-O Obsessed with the Wiggles cover of Elephant, can I explain why? not particularly. feels like an elephant shakin' his big red trunk for the hell of it! so we called the doc "fruit salad (yummy yummy) and then got the proper title of the fic from the wikipedia page on fruit salad.

THE FANDOM: Les Misérables :) this one's already partially on AO3, we just gotta continue! [flexes]

THE CONCEPT: we collectively lost our minds over The Mirror Has Two Faces, a 1996 Barbra Streisand joint where she sees herself as ugly and gets into a companionable and platonic (?) marriage with Jeff Bridges, who had been having SO MUCH UNFULFILLING SEX that it was interfering with his career and life goals. Anyway, this time it's Grantaire/Enjolras :)

THE EXCERPT: (from a future ch., also largely part i wrote even though i really wanted to do a part ps wrote)

"You don't understand how beautiful he is," Grantaire groans into his hands. "It's like he was designed in a lab."

Eponine rolls her eyes and keeps re-stocking the bottled waters in the fridge under the bar. "We have very different taste in men," she reminds him. "But I'm happy you're happy."

Grantaire had shown up in the early afternoon with two massive tote bags of papers and proportionally massive bags under his eyes. Apparently it's midterm season and nobody gives lecturers people to help with marking, so he's been doing nothing but grade all week. Eponine had been wondering where he'd gotten to--last year, he'd been around so often that they'd actually gotten to be passably good friends, but it turns out that teaching at four separate universities is a lot more inconvenient than doing the same number of courses for just one or two. And the idiot's also decided to start dating at the same time? If Eponine ever wants additional proof that more years of schooling doesn't mean anything about being smarter, she need look no further.

"Am I happy?" Grantaire asks philosophically. His voice is still muffled by his palms, but he peers out through his fingers at Eponine.

"If you're not, your standards are too high."

[javert-jajaune-jarouge]

I bought some old postcards at a flea market today, and I just had to buy this one because musical!Eponine and Gavroche? Musical!Eponine and Gavroche.

[pilferingapples]

What sort of clothing eponnie would of worn as a child and young lady in real life?

Eponine has a some major status changes in her life; as a child she’s dressed in clothes that are probably more expensive than her family can really afford, and done up in all the latest fashion. For kids at the time, expensive, fashionable clothing was basically just adult clothes sized down, so something like this: 

(source) or maybe this 

or maybe this 

(source) You can see some more pics of kids in period fashion here, too!

During her teen years, we have a direct description of what she’s wearing:

“ She was a frail, emaciated, slender creature; there was nothing but a chemise and a petticoat upon that chilled and shivering nakedness. Her girdle was a string, her head ribbon a string, her pointed shoulders emerged from her chemise “ - Les Miserables, Hapgood translation, ch. 3.8.4   So that’s a long shift -type dress, probably with short sleeves, and made of cotton; and then a thin underskirt.  You can see these things in this video and this one , but you’ll also see a corset there-- but Eponine doesn’t have a corset.  So basically underwear, and pretty beat up and worn out underwear at that. Sometimes she adds a pair of old men’s boots.  This is obviously not anything that should count as a full outfit, but it’s what she gets! Thanks, Thenardiers! 

If you’re asking what she’d wear in better circumstances, please check out my other blog for more fashionable canon-era women’s outfits--you can even tag-search by year!  If you’re thinking of a more working-class look, check out this blog post!  If you’re trying to ask after something else, send me another ask? :D

[devilsmenu]

@hiddenpxpercuts cont. from here because beta editor

"Shit, that's a long ass time" Satana remarked with a face. "A lot of bad shit happened in that period. And you're right for it, they need to respect us somehow".

[slippinmickeys]

I’m obsessed with your Drabbles and Ch 3 of the Tumblr prompts (where Mulder is married when Scully joins the X-Files) has me feeling some kind of way. I’d love to read the same thing from Scully’s perspective. Also, I’d love to know more about how they get from 9 to 10 (since clearly a lot happened 🤣). Thank you for being amazing!! 🥰

1. He wore a ring, but never mentioned a wife. Nor should he, she supposed; they’d only just been assigned to each other, they’d only just met. 

She considered that perhaps he was a widower, but didn’t feel comfortable asking. She thought maybe he was just a closed off, private man, until she found herself on his hotel bed in her robe, and he was telling her all about his family, his missing sister. 

Then they had been three cases in, and there was still that ring. She finally asked him his wife’s name. 

“Lauren,” he said.

She’d heard enough men talk about their wife in that tone of voice to know the relationship was not one like her parents, was not one she’d want herself. 

She felt something close to pity.

2. He saved her life in the Twin Cities. 

Donnie Pfaster was something more than evil, and when he told her he’d prepared himself for what he was going to see, she’d wished he’d prepared her, too. She was so thrown by the case that in addition to seeking out Karen Kosseff and availing herself of the therapist services supplied by the Bureau, she had plowed right past the fact that her partner had taken on the case for the sole purpose of taking her to the Redskins/Vikings football game.

A date.

3. She’d been with married men. She’d seen what havoc could be wreaked from the pursuit of such a relationship, and she had decided long ago that she would never do it again. 

Mulder had become her best friend. Lately, her only friend. Their reassignment had been difficult, but she talked to him more days a week than she didn’t. She tried not to notice that she was number one on his emergency contact list, and Laura was number two. 

She loved him as a friend, loved him as perhaps something more, but wasn’t convinced of his feelings for her until she was sitting atop Skyland Mountain with her hands tied in front of her, bound and gagged, and amongst a confusion of lights and sound, Mulder stumbled onto the scene, appearing as if from a TARDIS, and threw a haymaker so vicious it knocked Duane Barry out cold. He kicked him in the gut for good measure, and then tenderly removed her bindings, scooped her up in his arms and carried her down the mountain despite her shaky protestations that she could walk.

4. She had met Lauren only once, near the beginning of their partnership. 

Lauren had dropped by their office to take Mulder to lunch on his birthday and had arrived 30 minutes early. As Mulder had told Scully he’d planned to meet his wife in the lobby, she concluded that Lauren had shown up early on purpose, most likely with the sole intention of meeting Scully in the flesh. 

She’d given Scully an assessing once-over and then smiled at her with barely concealed  conceit and distaste. She then turned on her clippy Manolo’s, and purred Mulder’s first name. 

He had the look of a man headed to the gallows. 

5. Scully had tried dating. For a while she accepted every offer, let her mother set her up on blind dates, went through the produce section of her local market with a wandering eye. 

In the end, she had a few second dates, two one night stands, and a heart that was closed to all but one. 

Each night she would soak in the bath until she pruned, cry until the water turned cold and lament her role as Eponine. In the morning, she would meet her partner at the airport, hand him a coffee and a cheerful smile and board the damn plane. 

6. “You’re in love with your partner.” Missy said it as a statement rather than a question. 

They were trying an organic tapas restaurant her sister had found and Scully’s appetite disappeared before Melissa had finished the sentence.

“Missy!” she said with horror and embarrassment, which Melissa brushed aside with a flick of her wrist.

When Scully was 12 and 13, she kept a diary. No matter how well she hid it, Missy would always find it, pick the lock, and read it back to her whenever she walked in her room. 

Now that they were older, it didn’t matter if Scully’s secrets were at the center of a maze; Missy was forever Theseus, gaining its center and slaying the minotaur. Scully could keep nothing from her--she didn’t even know why she tried.

“I can hardly blame you,” Missy plowed on, popping an olive into her mouth, “he’s a dish.”

Scully slumped in her seat.

“So’s his wife,” she said.

Missy narrowed her eyes at her sister.

“Is she mean?” Missy asked. 

Scully wouldn’t answer. 

“I knew it,” Missy said, then, “how mean? Like on a scale of Heathers?”

Scully touched a napkin delicately to her lip. “Shannon Doherty” she said, with all the dignity she could muster. 

Missy leaned back in her chair. “You and I are going shopping,” she said. 

7. On an airplane over the arid West, Mulder told her, in no uncertain terms, that he was in love with her.

When their plane landed, she called Skinner and requested a week of PTO and an immediate transfer. She would not be a homewrecker again. She would not. 

After three days next to a pool in Key Largo, Skinner called with an offer: Salt Lake City, take it or leave it. 

Three days later, drained of tears and out of sunscreen, she called him back: leave it. 

She returned to work on Monday. She pretended she never heard. 

8. Two months later, Mulder stood in the doorway of their office and told her he was on his way to divorce court. 

Scully sat at her desk, dazed, thrilled, scared out of her mind. A laugh bubbled up from inside her and burst into the dusty air at the bottom of the Hoover building. 

9. Six weeks after the paperwork went through, Mulder showed up at her door at 9:00pm on a Friday and kissed her soundly on the mouth.

Five minutes later they were completely undressed, each het up to the point of frenzy. When she sunk down on him, took him all the way inside of her, she felt something pass between them, something heady and true. From that moment on she would always be a little less of a skeptic.

Later, when he was tracing lazy patterns over her skin with his fingers, their heads just touching on the pillow, he asked thoughtfully, “Is this what forever feels like?”

She took a moment to just look at him. Then, “Yes,” she said, matter-of-factly. 

“I never knew,” he said, his voice full of wonder. 

10. Two years later, in a bed in Bellefleur, Oregon, in the place where it all started, he looked up from in between her legs and licked his lips thoughtfully. 

“You taste different,” he said. 

She did some quick math in her head, then reached down and ran her fingers lightly through his hair. 

“I think we should go back to DC,” she said with a tremulous smile

[gamiin-blog]

hc + sister

                     GAVROCHE   isn’t  close  to  eponine  or  azelma  at  all.     he  was  thrown  from  the  thenardier  household  pretty  much  as  soon  as  he  could  walk  and  talk  ,     and  though  he  sometimes  makes  visits  back  any  relationship  he  may  have  with  them  is  him  trying  to  mirror  what  he  believes  their  relationship  ought  to  be  if  their  family  unit  was  anything  other  than  the  utter  mess  that  it  is.     they’re  friendly  ,     but  beyond  that  there  isn’t  too much  there.

this  isn’t  to  say  that  he  doesn’t  like  his  sisters  ,     he  likes  them  as  much  as  you  can  like  someone  you  barely  know.     he  treats  them  well  enough  ,     getting  them  little  gifts  and  things  when  he  thinks  of  them  ,     and  would  stick  up  for  them  if  they’re  ever  in  danger  ,     but  other  than  that  there  really  is  no  relationship  there  at  all.

                                       ↢    ––    RE :   HEADCANON  MEME    ;     ACCEPTING

[seeinganewlight]

top 5 edits: @eraseyourbookofstories asked ⤳ top 5 power ballads ・ [5/5] on my own (les miserables)

without him the world around me changes