#courfeyrac sister

[expired-applejuice]

Based on:

Dark paradise by Lana Del Rey

Grantaire takes the bullets.

Enjolras pretends to be shot but he was spared. No words were spoken. None could be. Grantaire was choking on his own blood, while Enjolras was trying to keep his sobs quiet. Still they had a conversation. Grantaire smiled, holding Enjolras hand. Enjolras kissed his head while squeezing his hand tightly. He felt useless as Grantaire slowly died in pain.

When the women came to clean, one, who resembled Grantire, found him still clinging on his hand whispering a tearful apology. She too started to weep and helped the young leader up, pulling him into a silent hug. Enjolras apologized for getting blood on her dress, but she said not to mention it.

Days later Marius found the leader in the abandoned Cafe setting in a chair. The place was empty besides the furniture and two school boys. Marius sat across from him. He took note of Enjolras's bloodshot eyes, and his tear stained face. He held a tight grip on his handkerchief as he stared off into the room. He no longer wore his red coat, nor was his hair at his shoulders. No, he wore a black trench coat that was buttoned, with his hair pulled back into a low ponytail.

Marius looked no better with his bullet wound, broken bones, and shattered heart. Cosette, who took care of him, said he had gain some color back but was still awfully pale. His hair seemed to darkened, and he felt like he aged 20 years. He wasn't sure if he was alive without a soul, or just lost.

"What are we to do now?" Enjolras's weak voice broke Marius from his thoughts. He looked back at the blonde, who was still staring into space.

"I'm not sure, brother," Marius answered as they fell back into their silence.

After a sad sigh, Marius turned to the door. He haft expected their friends to walking into the door laughing. He waited for it, but they never came.

Enjolras found that he missed their laugher the most. The roar of it after one of Combeferre's remarks. The not so hidden chuckles when Bossuet trips. The gleeful victory "haha"s when Bahorel or Grantaire won a sparing match. The sneaky snickers that accured when a prank was being played. Their smiles. Their voices. Their presence. Them.

Feuilly always worked hard. Harder than any other in Paris. Joly was so compassionate and helpful to everyone. Jehan Prouvaire was simply a bright star that always helped them get through rough patches. Bahorel would always have your back in the best and worse way. Courfeyrac could influence anyone to do anything, but was still respectable. Combeferre, with his smarts could outwit a sly fox. Bossuet could give some of the best hugs. Grantaire, as much as he hid it, would have done anything for the group. Oh and how could he forget Gavroche? The little guy had more spirit in him than any of them. And poor Eponine, she was tougher than any of the national guards' men.

Enjolras spent so much time on the revolution that he had no idea who or what he was without his friends and movement. Really he didn't want to remember who he was, because it wasn't. It was not him. Not anymore.

"Their funeral is tomorrow," Marius reminded him still looking at the door.

Enjolras finally pulled his eyes towards Marius, "Yeah. Musichetta promised to help cook the food."

"That's nice."

"Yes, and Montparnasse promised to help Bury them."

"I'm thankful for him," Marius looked at him, "How's Grantaire's sister?"

Enjolras looked down at the table, "She saying it wasn't my fault. I'm just glad she agreed to move in with me, you know? With out Grantaire she probably wouldn't be able to make rent."

Marius nodded.

A few months later, Enjolras walked to the graveyard. He said hi to each of his friends, and even Javert, placing a flower on each stone. He stopped at Grantaire, sitting by his headstone in the snow. The blonde, who wore a green heavy coat, pulled out a bottle of wine and placed it by his stone.

"Marius' wedding is today," He said out loud, "I just got back from the tailors. I'm honored to be his best man."

The wind blew into his face making a roar in his ears. It was freezing, but Enjolras didn't leave, "We've helped each other a lot in these past few months, Marius, your sister, Musichetta, Montparnasse, and I. Talked a lot about old times. It's been hard."

Snow started to float softly down around him. It was beautiful and peaceful. "People say we should move on, past the revolution, love, and friendship. They tell us to forget the songs and memories."

Enjolras laid down in the snow, feeling as numb as his legs. He looked at the sky, "Sometimes I close my eyes, you lot are still here. You're drinking your wine. Courf' and 'ferre are talking about something Courfeyrac said to get Combeferre heated up. Joly and Bossuet are talking about Bossuet's soup he made for him. Jehan, Feuilly and Bahorel are singing a song. And 'Poni and Gavroche are happy. I feel save in this place behind my close eyes."

"That's when it scares me. It scares me because when I go to join you one day, will I see you? Will I be punished for causing this to happen? Will you guys want to see me?" Tears fell from the corners of his eyes making his face colder.

He closed his eyes and he was still there, everything was the same. The only difference was Grantaire laying beside him, holding his hand, "Red, you say the stupidest things. We're waiting for you guys."

"Are you really here?"

Grantaire smiled sadly, "I love you Apollo."

Enjolras opened his eyes and he was alone.

"I love you too, Icarus."

[somuchbetterthanthat]

Possibly some other french person will have already answered, but yes, can confirmed, "Fils/fille unique" means only child in French!

Les Amis family mentions:

Enjolras and Prouvaire: only son (or only child?) and "rich/wealthy" , with no exact mention of what means

Combeferre: ....well he has a mother, since he forgets her at the barricade? no other solid info

Feuilly: an orphan, with no mother or father , and apparently no knowledge of any extended family

Courfeyrac: his family name is de Courfeyrac and he drops the particle, so perhaps some tension with his family? however we know nothing else about them...

Bahorel- son of peasants, who "respect" him; it seems to be mutual

Bossuet: amazing amount of family info really?? his dad was a postmaster, but has died; one of his ancestors was a servant in the palace, who minded the royal dogs; but we still don't know if he's got any surviving family

Joly: somehow we know nothing?? at all???? Grantaire : well he has a dad, anyway, who's disappointed in his failure to do Maths well...if you believe Grantaire's interpretation, which you probably never should

Conclusion: Joly is a Being of Mystery

[thebrickinbrick]

Night Begins to Descend Upon Grantaire, Part 4

“Matelote is homely!" he cried: "Matelote is of a dream of ugliness! Matelote is a chimæra. This is the secret of her birth: a Gothic Pygmalion, who was making gargoyles for cathedrals fell in love with one of them, the most horrible, one fine morning. He besought Love to give it life, and this produced Matelote. Look at her, citizens! She has chromate-oflead-colored hair, like Titian's mistress, and she is a good girl. I guarantee that she will fight well. Every good girl contains a hero. As for Mother Hucheloup, she's an old warrior. Look at her moustaches! She inherited them from her husband. Α hussar indeed! She will fight too. These two alone will strike terror to the heart of the banlieue. Comrades, we shall overthrow the government as true as there are fifteen intermediary acids between margaric acid and formic acid; however, that is a matter of perfect indifference to me. Gentlemen, my father always detested me because I could not understand mathematics. I understand only love and liberty. Grantaire, the good fellow. Having never had any money, I never acquired the habit of it, and the result is that I have never lacked it; but, if I had been rich, there would have been no more poor people! You would have seen! Oh, if the kind hearts only had fat purses, how much better things would go! I picture myself Jesus Christ with Rothschild's fortune! How much good he would do!

Matelote, embrace me! You are voluptuous and timid ! You have cheeks which invite the kiss of a sister, and lips which claim the kiss of a lover."

“Hold your tongue, you cask!" said Courfeyrac.

Grantaire retorted: “I am the capitoul' and the master of the floral games!”

Enjolras, who was standing on the crest of the barricade, gun in hand, raised his beautiful, austere face. Enjolras, as the reader knows, had something of the Spartan and of the Puritan in his composition. He would have perished at Thermopyla with Leonidas, and burned at Drogheda with Cromwell.

“Grantaire," he shouted, "go get rid of the fumes of your wine somewhere else than here. This is the place for enthusiasm, not for drunkenness. Don't disgrace the barricade!"

This angry speech produced a singular effect on Grantaire. One would have said that he had had a glass of cold water flung in his face. He seemed to be rendered suddenly sober.

He sat down, put his elbows on a table near the window, looked at Enjolras with indescribable gentleness, and said to him :

"Let me sleep here."

"Go and sleep somewhere else," cried Enjolras.

But Grantaire, still keeping his tender and troubled eyes fixed on him, replied: "Let me sleep here, until I die."

Enjolras regarded him with disdainful eyes: "Grantaire, you are incapable of believing, of thinking, of willing, of living, and of dying."

Grantaire replied in a grave tone: "You will see.”

He stammered a few more unintelligible words, then his head fell heavily on the table, and, as is the usual effect of the second period of inebriety, into which Enjolras had roughly and abruptly thrust him, an instant later he had fallen asleep.

[fillsta]

Les Amis and how good they're with plants :)

I should be asleep lol

Enjolras:

Terrible. Don't ask him to water your plants when you're away. Seriously. France is more important than weeds, smh.

Combeferre:

You know he's a methodical man. Obviously he can keep them alive and take care of them. I mean, he's Combeferre, should this even be discussed?

Courfeyrac:

Maybe? Prolly forgets to water them. More than he should. They would last for a bit before they eventually die, oops

Grantaire:

Bro can't even take care of himself, let alone a plant. Probably doesn't even own any. Jehan got him a small cactus. He forgets he has it because it's like, rly small so he never waters it or anything.

Jehan:

OF COURSE. They are a certified plant mom. Probably grows weed. Take care of everyone's plants when they're away. Their house is like, full of them. They refer to them as "their children". As they should.

Bahorel:

No, although he would like to. He is terrible with it. Jehan help him out though. Knits scarves for the pots because he's extra like that.

Feuilly:

Yes! Paints the pots. Sometimes he over waters them though.

Joly:

No, they're too preoccupied with serving cunt daily and being obsessive over sicknesses. Musichetta usually waters their daisies because she's awesome. And yes, he owns daisies.

Bossuet:

Let's be real, no matter how much he tried, given his luck, the plant would just die anyway. Maybe even catch fire, anything is possible with him. Poor Lesgles.

Gavroche:

Too busy playing Minecraft and annoying his sisters for plants.

Eponine:

Tries her best? She likes succulents because they're hard to kill tbh

Musichetta:

I have a hc that she and jehan are besties so they prolly passed their plant mom energy to her. Loves unique flowers. And like, large leafy plants. I don't know much about plants, I'm sorry

Marius:

Oh god, no. Bro's an absolute mess. You think he stops to think about plants? Until he moves in with Cosette and wants to be nice so he waters hers whenever she asks.

Cosette:

You know she is. Her balcony is so full you cant even stand in it. But she keeps up because she's Cosette and Cosette is fucking great.

[combeauferre]

and i cut my hair (because i'm worth it)

les miserables, rated t, 4.5k words

“Hey,” Courfeyrac says, standing. Enjolras and Combeferre turn to look at them. “You wanna do something stupid?” Enjolras’ anxious face piques in interest, and he smiles softly. “What d- do you have in mind?” Courfeyrac holds up the scissors. “You want your parents to see a son? Gotta start somewhere.”

read on ao3

21:45 – Sébastien: Can I please come over?

Courfeyrac looks up when their phone pings, and frowns. It’s not unusual for Enjolras to come to them for advice, to be cheered up, or for general gender-talk. But a plea to come over is a Combeferre text, surely. A best-friend-of-God-knows-how-many-years text.

Nevertheless, Courfeyrac will answer the call for aid. If this is a best-friend-of-six-months kind of text, they will be the best best-friend-of-six-months they can be.

Downstairs, their parents are still up, talking in rushed Italian over the phone to Courf’s eldest sister.

Vivina is still settling into life in Marseilles, still struggling to find friends, which continues to take Courf by surprise. Back home, she could charm anyone. And it’s not like their French is broken, it’s not like they can’t communicate. But the Marseilles accent is thick and difficult to understand without longer-than-natural pauses while the brain catches up, never mind other people trying to understand them through their own Ligurian accents.

Courf and their four sisters have collectively decided to blame their southern French-born father; somehow, despite living his whole childhood in the city, Frédéric never passed the accent on to his children.

On top of the language barrier, the bustle of Marseilles is so far removed from the everyday peacefulness of their grandparents’ farm and vineyard, even from the busiest parts of Genoa. Courf has to admit, it feels more foreign here than they expected it to. They feel foreign. 

But at least they’ve found Enjolras and Combeferre.

“Mamma!” Courf calls from their bed. From the room next to their own, a grumble to quiet down comes from Theresa.

“Jules?” their mother answers, walking to the bottom of the stairs. “Come where I can see you.”

Sighing, Courfeyrac hauls themself up off their bed and into the hallway, where they drape themself over the banister to look at their mother.

“Can Sébastien come over?”

She gives them a look.

“It’s a school night, Jules.”

“I know, but-”

“It’s almost time for bed.”

“Mamma, it’s urgent.”

She sighs and folds her arms.

“How urgent?”

Five minutes later and Courfeyrac’s best bullshitting attempts at a situation they know nothing about out the way, a text is sent back.

21:53 – Jules: come right over. what happened?

21:54 – Sébastien: I’m already on my way. Gabriel is coming over too.

No closer to understanding the situation at hand, Courf groans. They decide against going through the whole song and dance again to get Combeferre in the house. If the three of them are quick, their mother need never know.

Their great plan to smuggle both boys upstairs to their room is foiled by Geovana hovering by the door when the bell rings. Sheepishly, Courf opens the door to reveal Enjolras and Combeferre. The breath of a mother about to scold her child is cut short by the tearstains visible across Enjolras’ face, and Geovana is only human.

“Oddio! Come in, you two,” she says, hurriedly taking Enjolras by the hand and leading him inside. “Jules told me there was a bit of a situation, let me get you boys some tea, okay?”

Enjolras softens immediately and Courfeyrac understands. Under this roof, Enjolras is Sébastien. The de Courfeyracs have no intention of meeting the Enjolrases, so there is no reason to keep up the pretense of deadnaming their friend around Geovana and Frédéric; and Courfeyrac knows from personal experience how accepting their parents are of genders they do not understand.

The Combeferres, on the other hand, have known the Enjolrases for years. Under Ferre’s roof, Enjolras continues to be Noémie. The Combeferres adore Enjolras, but here, he can just be a man. And right now, it looks like that is exactly what he needs.

With weary eyes, Enjolras approaches Courfeyrac and all but falls into them. Courf's arms come up around him and hold him close, a thumb gently rubbing up and down his back.

"What happened?" they ask quietly.

"T-t-tell you in a." He pauses and takes a breath, fists scrunching around the back of Courfeyrac's shirt, forehead creasing against their neck. "In a bit."

"Okay."

Courfeyrac only has time to share one concerned look with Combeferre, one that tells them he doesn’t know what’s going on either, before Geovana is back in the hallway, gently pushing Enjolras' shoulder back so she can place a mug of tea in his hand.

"Th-thank you, Madame de Courfeyrac," Enjolras says quietly, avoiding her eyes as he focuses on getting each sound out right. No matter how many times Courf tells him Geovana would never judge him on his stammer, he continues on with short sentences that he can keep under control.

For her part, Geovana just smiles and squeezes his shoulder gently.

“You guys wanna come up to my room?” Courf asks their friends, dodging Geovana’s eyes in the hopes they’ll miss the lecture if they’re quick enough. Catching the hint, Enjolras and Combeferre turn and head right up the stairs, Courf hot on their heels.

"Jules," Geovana calls sternly after them. Of course, she knows every trick in their book. When Courf turns back, though, her face is soft. "If they're staying the night, you'd better have the air mattresses blown up before Theresa goes to sleep."

Courfeyrac still rolls their eyes.

"I know, Mamma."

She holds them in a firm stare a second longer, but says nothing more.

“I got most of that,” Combeferre says quietly as they climb the stairs, “but what was that she said about materassi gon…”

“Gonfiabili,” Courfeyrac finishes for him, laughing, “air mattresses, for you two to sleep on.”

“Oh,” he nods, smiling softly, “I’ll remember for next time.”

Learning Italian for school these last six months has become a way for Enjolras and Combeferre to impress Courf’s family, and Ferre is slowly on his way to twisting Courfeyrac’s arm into teaching him Italian, in exchange for obscure Marseillais slang. Maybe he’s not as good at persuading people as Enjolras is, but Courf is soft on him, anyway.

In the six months they've lived here, Geovana has been more accommodating to Courfeyrac's two new best friends than she ever was to their friends back home. Sometimes Courfeyrac wonders what their life would have been like if they'd stayed in Genoa, kept working on the vineyard, hung out with the same group of people at school that Geovana kept insisting were no good for him. Of course, she had been right, in the end.

Whatever she'd thought about them, she must feel the exact opposite towards Combeferre and Enjolras. Her no boys in the bedroom rule completely fell through after Enjolras came out to her and Courfeyrac had begged her to continue letting them have sleepovers, to be allowed to invite Combeferre to them as well, ready with their argument of, it doesn't even really make sense when I'm pansexual, does it, Mamma? And she had to admit, they had a point.

Combeferre is more sensible than any of the friends she'd had at that age, in any case, and she trusts them all together. They're smart, and they're good influences on Courfeyrac, and they care about each other. And who is Geovana to get in the way of that?

Closing the door on the rest of the house, Courfeyrac sits down on the bed next to Enjolras. Combeferre stands in the corner, leaning on the wardrobe, mug cupped in both hands.

"Tell us what happened?" Courf asks quietly, a hand coming to rest on Enjolras' knee.

He sighs.

"I-I-I-I just want to." The ‘t’ sound is hard, and lingers in his mouth. He pauses. "I want t-to be t-tr-trea-tr-” he takes a deep, frustrated breath, “To be normal." He puts his tea down forcefully on the bedside table and stands. "My parents ac-act like I- I can't do shit."

He takes a deep breath, then another, and pushes his thumb into his opposing palm.

"I tol-told them today that I joined th-the- the debate team." He sighs. "I- I was go-going to show them I can do it. I wanted to prove- prove th- them-” his hand twists, his nail replacing the pad of his thumb, “wanted to prove them wrong." Restlessly, he sits again, crosses his legs, uncrosses them. "I- I- I didn't e- ev- even get- didn’t even get th- that far.”

"What did they say?" Combeferre asks quietly. He's leaning forward, brow furrowed, jaw set. Courfeyrac's never met anyone so protective of their friend, as Combeferre is of Enjolras.

"They-they said I should h- have asked, and th-th- I need to- to get my voice under control first." He curls in on himself. “Never mind that- that my speech th- ther- therapist said it would be- be good for me.”

As much as Courf knows that seeing Enjolras in this light is a sign of their friendship and the trust they are slowly growing together, it is painful to watch. Larger than life, unapologetic Enjolras, making himself as small as he possibly can. Enjolras, who can stand on a stage and tear apart any opposing argument with no preparation, who just wants to please his parents.

“But you’re already doing so well,” Combeferre says, frowning. “If they just came and saw you – everyone says they’ve never seen anyone take an argument apart as thoroughly as you can.”

“I’m just-” he takes another deep breath, forehead creasing, “I’m ti- tired. Everyth- th- everything is such- such hard work.”

“They’ll come around,” Courfeyrac says gently, desperate to say something useful – although Enjolras’ eyes squeezing shut tells them it was the wrong thing to say, and they mentally kick themself for it.

“I- I’ve been waiting s- so- so long f- for- for that,” he says, voice raising slightly, words beginning to mangle together in his frustration, “I just em- embarrass them.”

“Are they going to make you leave the team?” Combeferre asks quietly.

Enjolras shrugs.

“St- stupid stammer jus- just- just gets in the way of all m- my shit,” he mutters. His nails dig into the flesh of his forearm, and Courfeyrac gently reaches over and twines their fingers together. They get a small, sad almost-smile in return.

“As long as- as long as I- I- I talk like th-this,” his voice wavers, the words getting more difficult to say as he gets worked up, every sound catching on his tongue, “They- they’ll never see me as someone who can- can- can get anywhere.”

“You’ll show them,” Combeferre says, sitting down on the other side of him. “Regardless of what they think, you’ll still be wiping the floor with everyone else.”

“But I want them- wan- want them t- to th- think- think I can do it!” Enjolras near-shouts, standing again, hand ripping away from Courfeyrac’s, coming up to tug at his hair. With every correction, his fist pulls tighter. “I want them to- to look at me, and… not see a disappoint- pointment.” He sighs. “I’ll al-always have a stammer, I- I- I’ll always be autistic… God knows what they- they’ll think of me wh- when they find out I’m trans too.”

Combeferre tentatively gets up and holds his arms out. Slowly, Enjolras retreats into them, folding around Combeferre the way he has for years. Courfeyrac hears a gentle, quiet, “I’m sorry, I know, I’m sorry.”

Something in their chest pulls every time they’re reminded of Enjolras and Ferre’s closeness, and of their own place as second-best. It doesn’t hurt often; they can live with it. But watching this – it’s private, and they’re a trespasser.

“I don’t wan- want to be their- their perfect little girl,” Enjolras says quietly, “It would be so easy, if that- that was what I- I wanted. But I want them to- to look at me and see their son. And th- they never- never will.”

Feeling helpless, Courfeyrac looks around the room, anywhere but at their friends. Their eyes fall on the old pair of scissors that sit on the dresser, and a sly smile creeps on to their face.

“Hey,” they say, standing. Enjolras and Combeferre turn to look at them. “You wanna do something stupid?”

Enjolras’ anxious face piques in interest, and he smiles softly.

“What d- do you have in mind?”

Courfeyrac holds up the scissors.

“You want your parents to see a son? Gotta start somewhere.” They raise an eyebrow at Enjolras, challenging him. He grins back, just like Courfeyrac knew he would.

Combeferre looks between them and shakes his head, half in fondness and half in desperation.

“You’re a terrible influence, Jules.”

Courfeyrac just smirks and shrugs.

“You love it.”

Giggling quietly, they make their way into the bathroom. Enjolras is first, immediately frowning and looking in the mirror. His hair is a point of pride for his parents, long and near-platinum blond. It’s only ever been trimmed to tidy it up, and it hangs down to his waist.

He hates it.

Courfeyrac is next, behind Enjolras, playing with his hair like they’re a stylist. Combeferre comes in last, a twisted, uncomfortable feeling in his gut. Enjolras might regret this, when he goes home to his parents tomorrow and they flip their shit. But the last thing he wants is to spoil this; Enjolras’ face is set and determined, and any kind of visible discomfort from Ferre could pull him back. He needs his friends’ support right now, to do something very minimal, and very brave.

“So,” Courfeyrac begins, still grinning, watching Enjolras in the mirror. His nerves have disappeared, and he grins back, a fierce glee in his eyes. “What would you like us do to?”

“I just-” he pauses, thinking about it a second. “Just get rid- rid of it.”

“Yeah?”

Courfeyrac looks at Combeferre for approval, and Combeferre shrugs and picks up the scissors. When he met Enjolras, he would never have agreed to something like this. He was the good kid, once, but he’s learnt a lot since then. He knows better.

“Just, start anywhere?” Ferre asks, reaching out and running his hand gently through Enjolras’ hair. He has to admit, it is beautiful – soft, luscious, and healthy.

Watching them now, Courf can only guess the amount of effort Enjolras takes to maintain it. It doesn’t suit him.

“Get it gone,” Enjolras says, nodding firmly. “Alth- though, may-maybe we can keep it,” his eyes drop from the mirror, and he looks at his hands. “I- I want to- to donate it.”  

Courfeyrac begins rummaging in the cupboard, and produces a hair tie.

“Let me?” they ask gently, stepping in to gather all of Enjolras’ long hair into one handful, tying it. “Like this.” They make a scissoring motion above the hair tie and look at Combeferre. “After that, I guess we just wing it, right?”

“Sounds good to me,” Combeferre says, “Don’t expect anything amazing from us though, Bas.”

“It- it’ll be amazing to- to have it gone,” Enjolras replies, finding his own eyes in the mirror. They are firm and sure. Courfeyrac thinks, in that moment, they’d probably trust Enjolras in anything, if he had that much surety in it.

It’s Combeferre who takes the scissors, holds them above the ponytail, gives Enjolras one more questioning glance. He receives a firm nod back, and grins.

The hacking through Enjolras’ hair that follows is far from glamorous. If only a hairdresser could see them now, those scissors would be taken away and never given back. The line is jagged and Enjolras hisses in pain a couple of times, but Combeferre persists.

“I think,” Courfeyrac says, folding their arms as they watch, “That maybe you should never become an executioner.”

Moving the scissors away from Enjolras’ hair, Combeferre gives them a look over his glasses.

“Well, there go my hopes and dreams,” he says, dryly.

Enjolras giggles in front of them, shaking his head.

“I- I- I really d- don’t know what we’d be- be with- without you, Jules,” he says fondly, looking up at them in the mirror. His words still struggle to form correctly, but right now, he doesn’t care. Courfeyrac beams back.

Combeferre turns back to Enjolras’ hair, and with a few more haphazard slashes of the scissors, the ponytail comes loose in his hand. Grinning, Combeferre passes it to Enjolras. He holds it gently, victoriously.

“Now what?” Courfeyrac asks. “My turn?”

Standing back, Combeferre folds his arms and inspects Enjolras’ hair.

“Should we watch a Youtube video, maybe?” he says, running his hands gently through the messy ends. “You know, so it… doesn’t look like we did it at home?”

Turning his head, Enjolras looks at his hair in the mirror and considers.

“I kin- kind of want it to- to look like we did it,” he says finally, turning around to properly look at his friends. “I want my parents- parents to know I- I came to you guys and we ju- just-  just sliced it off.”

Courfeyrac grins at him, before turning to Combeferre.

“May I?” they ask, holding out their hands for the scissors.

Combeferre’s answering smile is a shade Courfeyrac has never seen before, and it sends a thrill through them. Every day, they learn a new facet of their two best friends.

“Do your worst.”

“Well,” Enjolras says from below them, grinning, “Really, I- I- I could do with- with it being somewhat pre- presen- sentable.”

Courfeyrac places a hand on Enjolras’ shoulder.

“I promise not to completely destroy your hair,” they say with as much sincerity as they can manage amidst their grin. In the mirror, Enjolras laughs, eyes flicking between meeting Courf’s own eyes, the hair on his head, and the hair in his hands.

“What do you think?” Courfeyrac says, running their fingers through the hair around Enjolras’ forehead, “do you want bangs? Side bangs?” they take a handful of hair on the left side of Enjolras’ head and pull it unceremoniously across his forehead. “Emo fringe?”

Laughing once more, Enjolras bats their hand away.

“No fringe,” he says, “I ac- act- actually kind of like my- my forehead.”

Before they can stop themself, Courf leans down and presses a kiss to his temple.

“Me too.”

From the side, Combeferre watches quietly. The Enjolras in front of him is so different from the Enjolras he met seven years ago. Small, ten-year-old Enjolras, who’d never had or needed a school friend, who he never saw smile, let alone at anyone else, who took weeks, months, to really understand that Combeferre was his friend.

And maybe he’s not so different; he still doesn’t give a shit what other people think, and as much as he values Combeferre and Courfeyrac deeply, he doesn’t feel the need to fill the gaps with more people. But here, he’s happy. He’s loose and starting to relax and he’s free, and Combeferre takes a moment to just drink that in.

“I should do that thing,” Courfeyrac says, pulling him from his thoughts, “you know, where hairdressers…” they trail off in favour of concentrating, pulling a section of hair through two flat fingers and haphazardly hacking at it on an angle. “Like that, right?”

Enjolras laughs and shrugs.

“I can’t- can’t act- actually see you,” he says, “but- but yes, sure.”

Courf continues on this way for a little while, quietly chipping away at sections of hair with no system, but somehow, the hair begins to take shape. Around the chair, piles of golden hair settle and Enjolras is yet to realise how much of it is clinging to his shirt.

“You know,” Courf says, after a while, “Your hair’s so pale, I bet you could dye it any colour you wanted.”

“Dyeing it might- might be a lit- little too far, th- th- thi- today,” Enjolras says, catching Courf’s eyes in the mirror once more, “but may- maybe another time.”

A knock on the bathroom door makes them all jolt and look around.

“Jules,” Geovana calls, “remember what I said about the air mattresses, it’s nearly eleven.”

Courfeyrac groans, rolling their eyes.

“What are you three doing in there, anyway?”

“Nothing!” they call back, too quickly. Combeferre sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s not entirely sure on what Geovana asked, but he can guess.

“On a scale of one to ten,” he says, “how mad is your mother going to be?”

“Probably, like…” they think about it a moment, “a six?”

“Right.” Sighing again, Combeferre opens the door slightly. “I’ll go sort the air mattresses.”

Geovana makes way for him to come out the bathroom and smiles at him gratefully. But when Courfeyrac tries to close it behind him, she catches the door.

Swallowing, Courf lets the door go, giving Geovana a sheepish smile.

“Hey, Mamma,” they say nervously.

She takes one look around the room and sighs.

“Jules,” she begins, now in French, “why do I feel like you three don’t have permission from Sébastien’s parents to be doing this?”

“It’s my h- hair,” Enjolras grumbles quietly.

Shaking her head, fighting the fond smile on her face, Geovana turns around.

“I saw nothing, understood?”

Behind her, Courfeyrac beams.

“Thank you, Mamma!”

She turns back, fixing them with another stern look.

“You’d better clear this up first thing tomorrow, before school,” she says, “and Sébastien, love, give me your shirt to wash when you’re done, okay? You can borrow something of Jules’ for tomorrow.”

The tension in Enjolras’ shoulders ebbs away.

“Thank- thank you, Madame de Courfeyrac,” he says quietly.

She shakes her head, this time letting the smile cross her face.

“One day, you’ll drop that formality,” she tells him, “You’ve been coming in this house long enough. All this ‘Madame de Courfeyrac’ makes me feel very old.”

Enjolras offers her a nervous smile by way of apology, and she turns around, softly closing the door behind her.

“That could’ve been worse, huh?” Courf laughs. Enjolras flashes them a nervous smile. “Anyway,” they continue, patting him on the shoulder, “what do you think so far?”

Enjolras lifts a hand, running his fingers through his hair. It still looks feminine, objectively, but as he ruffles it with his hand, it sends a thrill through him.

“I love it.”

Courf grins and wraps their arms around him.

“Good. Is there anything else you want me to do to it?”

Enjolras turns his head from side to side, considering.

“I th- think it-it’s perfect,” he says, smiling softly, “will your mamma be mad if- if I- I take a shower this- this late?”

Courf shakes their head.

“Not at all,” they say, kissing his forehead one more time. “I’ll grab you a towel and some fresh PJs, yeah?”

Nodding, Enjolras continues to look at himself in the mirror. Courfeyrac turns to leave.

“Jules?”

They turn back to look at him expectantly. He smiles, sincerity shining out from his eyes.

“Th- thank you.”

Courf smiles back widely, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder.

“Anything for you.”

In Courf’s bedroom, Combeferre has set up the two air mattresses and pushed them together. With some blankets that Geovana gave him, he’s made them look cozy and inviting, and Courfeyrac almost wishes they were going to be down there with Ferre and Enjolras, instead of in their own bed.

“Hey,” they say quietly, making their way to the bed. Combeferre smiles warmly.

“Hey yourself,” he says, settling down on one side of his makeshift double bed.

“Thanks, for helping us do that,” Courf says, looking at their hands, “I was kind of worried you were gonna tell us to stop.”

“So was I,” Ferre confesses, giving Courf an almost shy smile. Combeferre is one of the least shy people they’ve ever met. “I’m really glad we’re friends, Jules,” he says, after a beat, “you make us have more fun.”

Courfeyrac grins.

“Happy to be of service,” they say, giving a mock bow. Combeferre chuckles.

“Really, though,” he presses, “I think you complete us.”

It’s cheesy, but Courf knows exactly what he means.

They’ve never told Enjolras and Ferre what their friendship circle was like back home. They were a harsh, nasty group who Jules got swept into thanks to their close friend’s new, horrible boyfriend. Jules came out to the lot of them only a week before moving to Marseilles. It was left so late because they knew, in their heart of hearts, that it was going to be awful.

At best, they were met with comments about how all the cute girls end up being lesbians; at worst, it was a “don’t worry, we’ll help you grow out of it”, followed by a fist to the stomach and a spit in the face. They still remember the look on their best friend’s face, like she was helpless, like she didn’t know if she wanted it to stop. Like she was more shocked that her friend was queer, than that her partner would beat them to the ground for it.

Suddenly, correcting them all on not, in fact, being a lesbian, became the least of Jules’ worries.

They never told their parents; the bruises visible on their face and arms spoke for them. But leaving behind Chiara, their second-oldest sister and best friend in the world, had swiftly become unbearable. Clinging to each other in the moments before leaving, she promised to visit soon, and made them promise to come back as often as they could.

Chiara is yet to meet Enjolras and Combeferre, but Courf knows she’s going to adore them.

Enjolras emerges from the shower ten minutes later, hair short and shaggy and dripping, cozy in Courf’s warm pyjamas, beaming.

“You like it?” Courf asks, jumping up to take a closer look.

“I- I love it,” he confirms, letting Courf run their fingers through it. Ferre is right behind them, inspecting their handiwork. It’s far from professional; it couldn’t be clearer that two teenagers with no experience did it. But Enjolras is happier than either of them have ever seen him, and the rest fades away.

While Enjolras finishes towel drying his hair, Courfeyrac grabs the camera they’d gotten for their birthday last year. Before they moved to Marseilles, it had only taken a handful of photos of people, Courf instead using it for landscapes, the mountains, the vineyard as the sun set. Since meeting Enjolras and Combeferre, the camera has filled up with grinning faces, laughs, memories Courf will cling to for years.

Ferre sees them setting the timer and grins, tugging Enjolras down to sit on either side of Courf, where they are positioning the camera as best as they can.

“Ready?” they ask, looking at each of their friends. After two quick, excited nods, Courf clicks the trigger and gets into place, wrapping one arm around Enjolras’ shoulders and the other around Combeferre’s waist. The other two lean in, grinning, and the shutter clicks.

The photo is one of the first to go up in the shared Triumvirate flat, two years later, as they begin their first year of university. It takes pride of place, in between the first Triumvirate sleepover and their first outing as a four, when Enjolras introduced Courfeyrac to Jehan, a trip that left them close and crushing on each other.

Next will go the photo of Enjolras and his high school debate team, following regional championships, alongside one of Courf’s favourite photos of Enjolras, mid-debate, arm raised, hair a scruffy, untamed halo behind him.

There’s a solemnity to the photo wall, Courf thinks when he walks past it every day, of feelings and experiences and time gone by. But there’s nothing Courf would change about those experiences. And there’s plenty more space on the wall.

[sparklygraves]

my sis was so excited when I told her that I finally also got obsessed with Les Mis.

"Who's your favorite character?" she asked.

"Welll I love Enjolras and Grantaire but my real fave..."

"Enjolras? Is that the hot one?"

"...Yes?"

"And who is Grantaire???"

"The one who makes fun of Marius when he's rambling about love?"

Sister: ????

Me: Well, anyway, my real love is Combeferre. But I'm also really getting to adore Courfeyrac...

Sis: THOSE ARE MADE UP NAMES.

[aaronstveit]

i would loooove to hear more of your director's commentary about deep end! <3 not sure how much you can say without spoiling but did you make a lot of changes from the original draft? and are there any scene that didn't make it into the final fic? thank youuu <3

omg hi anon this question made my entire day <3333 gonna answer beneath a read more as always because when talking about deep end i am this trc meme

okay so firstly! i wrote deep end 3 times. the original draft had a final wordcount of 126,978 words. the middle draft had a final wordcount of 175,065 words. the final draft's wordcount is not finalized yet because i am still editing & still adding one scene to the epilogue, but obviously we've already surpassed the first draft's wordcount, so that's fun.

as you can see, about 50k words were added in the middle draft! there are a lot of reasons for this. chapters 8 & 9, as well as about half of chapter 10, did not exist in the original draft. i added them during rewriting because i felt we hadn't spent enough time with enjolras & cosette.

combeferre and éponine were almost nonexistent in the original draft. not just as a couple, but individually as well. every single grantaire & éponine scene was added in the middle draft, and most of enjolras & combeferre's scenes as well.

i actually didn't cut any full scenes out! there were quite a few though where i started writing a scene, realized it was wrong, and erased what i had written and started over. for instance, this bit in chapter 18:

in the original draft, i tried writing enjolras turning to grantaire at this point and saying, "I think I'm in love with you," before cosette answered the door. obviously, i ended up deciding against this, mostly because i decided the kiss scene would pack more of a punch if enjolras realizes he's in love with grantaire right when he's in the middle of their argument.

i also deleted soooooooooo many arguments. this is probably surprising considering how often they argue in this fic, but at least once a chapter i really had to stop myself and say, okay no this is getting unhealthy. i enjoy writing arguments too much apparently - which is good for writing exr, but only to a certain extent.

originally, grantaire was not going to have a sister. it genuinely did not even occur to me until chapter 11 (which was chapter 8 at the time), but once it did occur to me, i couldn't not do it. his grief plotline became way too dear to me way too quickly.

the biggest changes i made during writing all had to do with reordering events!! originally, karaoke happened somewhere around chapter 8. i ended up moving it wayyyyyyyyy back because i felt like their flirting was out of place so early in the story.

i also moved enjolras' arguments with cosette and grantaire to an earlier point than i originally intended. at first, i thought they were going to happen around the second-to-last chapter, but i moved them forward a lot earlier because i thought more work needed to be done with enjolras.

the chapter that underwent the most changes from the middle draft to the finished draft is chapter 24. obviously i can't say just yet what those changes are, but i'm really really happy with how that chapter turned out and i hope you all will be as well <3

several of my personal favorite scenes in this fic are actually cannibalized from something i tried writing and gave up on a few months ago. marius getting mugged in chapter 4, the hamlet conversation in chapter 7, and enjolras tending to grantaire's broken nose in chapter 14 were all taken from the same abandoned wip.

as for some more random tidbits that i find fun:

a fun fact for everyone is that cosette did not pull the phrase "who has a flag where he should have a heart" out of thin air! she takes this from courfeyrac in chapter 13:

which is why courfeyrac winces when enjolras says it in chapter 19:

also in chapter 19, enjolras means to say that Train to Busan is his favorite horror movie ending. i didn't just choose that because i love that movie (although i really really do) but because. well. i'm not going to spoil the ending for you if you haven't seen it, but... it was very deliberate is all i'm saying.

i really cannot overstate how much of this fic only exists because of cossette notebookmusical. for starters, i only even attempted writing it because she said "jamie if you don't write this." she also got to spend months listening to me bitch about it and receiving so many horrible snippets from the original draft so coco, if you're reading this, thank you from the very bottom of my heart 🫶🏻

more specifically, the entire beginning sequence of chapter 17 with grantaire staying the night at enjolras' apartment was inspired by cossette! i was asking her for situations to put the blond man in and one of her ideas was that he loses his keys. so everyone say thank you cossette!

also the bit in chapter 19 where enjolras thinks about combeferre a psychology minor is the worst thing to ever happen to you was added after i said something to cossette and she said something along the lines of, "would you like to elaborate on that?"

the ending bit of chapter 23 is also inspired by and written for cossette. you'll see what i mean in a few weeks.

there are a lot more bits and pieces inspired by things that cossette has said and done, or added just to make her laugh, but if i listed all of them i would be here forever. just know that this entire fic is cocoservice and it is only because of cossette that it exists at all <333333

there is also a collection of scenes i'm considering writing as "bonus content" for when the fic is fully posted - mostly scenes that already exist, but from another point of view, and a few that are only mentioned in passing.

okay i'm cutting myself off now because this is a lot of yapping even for me but you may always ask more if you're so inclined <3333 thank you sm for asking i had so much fun answering this! i really can't tell you how much it means to me not only that you're not only reading but also enjoying it so much that you're asking about it like... this is literally a fic writer's DREAM. thank you so so so much <3333

[bobcatmoran]

There's a new stage adaptation of Les Mis going on right now in Japan!

Official website: http://www.lesmise-stage.com/

Official twitter: https://twitter.com/LesMise_stage

I'm not even going to try to translate cast names, because name kanji are HARD, but here's the character names in this cast rundown, left-to-right:

Top row: Jean Valjean, Cosette, Thenardier, Fantine, Enjolras, Government Soldier 2nd row: Eponine, Marius, Little Cosette, Mme Thenardier, Combeferre (with blue scarf), Courfeyrac, Grantaire, Bahorel, Feuilly, Lesgles, Joly, Jean[ne Prouvaire?] 3rd row: Government Soldier, Government Soldier, Gavroche, Gavroche's gang, Gavroche's gang, Gavroche's gang, Gavroche's gang, Gavroche's gang, Sister [Simplice?], Factory Manager, Magloire (yes she's a nun) 4th row: [Patron] Minette Boss, Montparnasse, Gueulemer, Babet, [five women in a row whose name is a slur for Romani people], Fairy (idek) big pics at bottom: Javert, Bishop Myriel

[secretmellowblog]

Oh! Ask game! #20, Ideal Best Friend, for Valjean, Cosette, and Javert each?:D

(for this ask game) Thanks for the ask!! Ideal friend for Jean Valjean: Literally anyone, he needs more friends XD. But specifically I think Mabeuf, Myriel, and Combeferre would be great options.

Jean Valjean is very shy and nonconfrontational, and I think he'd be able to bond well with quiet thoughtful people who could garden or read with him. Mabeuf's poverty would also be an excuse for them to interact-- if he tried to break into Mabeuf's house to give him money, and Mabeuf caught him in the act, it could lead to a whole beautiful friendship adventure. It would be a fix-it for both of them-- Jean Valjean's money saving Mabeuf, and the friendship saving them both! I think Combeferre is a good medium between "someone who is thoughtful and bookish enough not to frighten Jean Valjean" and "someone who could validate his anger and help inspire him to find solidarity." Especially because they do have a lot of similar feelings around violence and pacifism that could build some common ground between them. It would also be great for Jean Valjean to bond with anyone else who had ever been to the galleys with him, like Boulatruelle or one of his old chainmates. Ideal friend for Cosette: Anyone, she needs more friends. But specifically I think Courfeyrac! Someone bright and social and bubbly, like she is, who could introduce her to a wide social world outside of what she knows. I also think she could bond a lot with Eponine, largely because it would allow her to explore the parts of her past that everyone else is so determined to hide from her at all costs. Ideal friend for Javert: anyone. he needs one (1) friend. I don't think pre-seine Javert could ever have "friends" because it's just not what he does. But I do think Post-Seine Javert could really hit it off with Sister Simplice, and they could bond over breaking their vows of "honesty" for Jean Valjean. In addition to that. Post-Seine Javert is in a weird emotional state because he's an authoritarian who's lost his faith in one authority, and is now desperately searching for Something Else to obey. He'd be desperate to find someone else to be his new Overlord. But who would be the best "new overlord" for him? My answer is, whoever is the funniest worst person to put in that role. I think an "ideal" friend for Javert would be some extremely normal regular guy who does not want to be Javert's Authoritarian Overlord and is just perplexed by it all. Like--Javert trying to make Theodule his new authoritarian overlord would be great. And those are my hot takes!

[pizza-hats-of-the-world-1882]

Sexiest Hugo characters: survey results

1. enjolras [les miserables]

2. esmeralda [notre dame de paris]

3. montparnasse [les miserables]

4. djali [notre dame de paris]

5. gwynplaine [l’homme qui rit]

6. la pieuvre [the toilers of the sea]

7. cimourdain [93]

8. bahorel [les miserables]

9. gilliatt [the toilers of the sea]

10. javert [les miserables]

11. hernani [hernani]

12. phoebus [notre dame de paris]

13. gauvain [93]

14. feuilly [les miserables]

15. courfeyrac [les miserables]

16. josiana [l’homme qui rit]

17. marius pontmercy [les miserables]

18. don carlos [hernani]

19. dea [l’homme qui rit]

20. combeferre [les miserables]

21. homo [l’homme qui rit]

22. cosette [les miserables]

23. fantine [les miserables]

24. bishop myriel [les miserables]

25. valjean [les miserables]

26. don ruy gomez de silva [hernani]

27. grantaire [les miserables]

28. claquesous/le cabuc [les miserables]

29. dona sol de silva [hernani]

30. jehan frollo [notre dame de paris]

31. ursus [l’homme qui rit]

32. eponine [les miserables]

33. prouvaire [les miserables]

34. claude frollo [notre dame de paris]

35. joly [les miserables]

36. ebenezer caudray [the toilers of the sea]

37. houzarde [93]

38. fleur de lys [notre dame de paris]

39. sister simplice [les miserables]

40. pierre gringoire [notre dame de paris]

41. fauchelevent [les miserables]

42. clopin [notre dame de paris]

43. bossuet [les miserables]

44. michelle flecharde [93]

45. david dirry-moir [l’homme qui rit]

46. radoub [93]

47. mabeuf [les miserables]

48. col pontmercy [les miserables]

49. fibi [l’homme qui rit]

50. azelma [les miserables]

51. quasimodo [notre dame de paris]

52. barkilphedro [l’homme qui rit]

53. hardquanonne [l’homme qui rit]

54. babet [les miserables]

55. vinos [l’homme qui rit]

56. gillenormand [les miserables]

57. thenardier [les miserables]

58. deruchette [the toilers of the sea]

59. lethierry [the toilers of the sea]

60. mme thenardier [les miserables]

61. gudule [notre dame de paris]

62. lantenac [93]

63. mlle baptistine [les miserables]

64. clubin [the toilers of the sea]

if i mispelled anything no i didnt

if you disagree with where your favs are, i’ll be holding a bracket soon! so look forward to boosting them with your votes

[pyromaniacbibliophile]

Bricktober day 6- Flag

@lesmis-prompts

this kind of got away from the prompt a little but yeah. i know nothing about Azelma as I haven't read the brick yet Enjoy

___________________________

The first thing she sees, opening her bedroom window that morning, is a flag. 

The french flag, bloodstained and bullet-holed. Written across it in black ink are the words ‘Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite!’ and in the bottom corner is a tiny doodle of a magpie. 

She knows, then.

Silently she dresses and walks down. Crosses the road and keeps going. Left, right, left again.. 

There is a bustle of people here, but when she turns the final corner all is silent. 

The streets are scrubbed clean but she can still see the blood in the edges. She looks up and sees their oh-so-glorious leader hanging out of a window. Dead, evidently. In one hand he holds a red banner that flickers in the wind. A bottle lies smashed on the street below. 

That answers that question, then. She continues slowly down the street until she comes to where a mass of bodies are laid out neatly on the cobbles. Someone has clearly moved them. 

She looks along the corpses, marking their names off a mental list. She met all of them, one way or another. Finally she comes to the one she expected to see. Gavroche, her brother, lying there with holes in his shoulder and his chest. His blue eyes staring sightlessly up. 

She watches him for a long minute, half convinced he’ll jump up any second laughing. ‘Fooled you, ‘zelma, didn’t I?’ He would say. Of course, no such thing happens. Carefully, she folds his hands over his chest and closes his eyes. 

She is about to leave when she sees the last body. Auburn hair streaked with blood. A red stain marring her white shirt. She stares for a second or two, her mind not quite processing yet. Eponine. Eponine her beautiful, lively, protective sister.

She really should have expected it, to be fair. Eponine was always following Marius around, never mind how many times she had told her not to, that a man who doesn’t notice you is not a man you should want. Eponine had never listened, of course she hadn’t. 

She does the same thing she had done for Gavroche, closes her sister’s eyes and folds her hands. 

After that she pauses. It wouldn’t feel right to just leave them. She digs around in her pocket until she finds a few pieces of chalk. Then, she kneels and begins to draw. 

She is nowhere near as good as Gavroche was, but she’s not bad. In ten or so minutes she’s sketched a magpie holding the flag in its beak. She lets herself admire it for a heartbeat then goes to writing. Labelling each of their names above their heads. She won’t have them forgotten, not if she can help it. 

Mabeuf. Bahorel. Jean Provaire. Bossuet. Feuilly. Courfeyrac. Joly. Combeferre. Gavroche. Eponine. 

She turns away and goes through the battered doors of the Musain. Up the stairs and she sees Grantaire and Enjolras. Enjolras is half out of the window and Grantaire is slumped against the frame. Their hands are just barely touching and two bloody handprints mark where they stood, one on each wall. Carefully she writes ‘Enjolras and Grantaire’ above their heads then goes back down. 

One last thing to do before she leaves. In her best writing she scrawls some words above the magpie. Then she takes one final look at them and walks away. The last Thenardier, for all intents and purposes. 

She leaves Paris. She couldn’t stay, not with Gavroche’s grin haunting her around every corner. She returns for one day each year, June 6th. On that day she goes to the Musain, which soon became a thriving cafe once more. She looks at the street, goes upstairs and looks at the handprints, then leaves. They left Enjolras’s flag there, red against the cafe’s brick walls and green sign. 

On her second visit, two years later, she notices a photograph hanging in the cafe. It shows clearly the dead bodies surrounded by her magpie, carefully named. Their names are on the little sign underneath the photograph as well. She is glad. It almost makes her smile reading the words she wrote that day. 

“Here rest Les Amis de l’ABC. Friends of the Abased. They were heroes. Let their names be remembered and their story told. Let the flag of freedom wave from your windows. 

Let their death mean something.” 

[black-rabbit-razumikhin]

Raz Reads Les Mis (XXVI)

Saint Denis - Eponine

In which I am once again mad at the prison system

Marius has moved out and is now living with Courfeyrac

He doesn't want to be so close to the horror of the house and he doesn't want to testify against Thenardier

He goes so far as to borrow money from Courfeyrac to give to Thenardier when he's in solitary confinement

Marius?? Borrow money??

Also, putting someone in solitary before they've even had a trial? That's a little terrifying

Of course this recent scare does nothing to deter Marius from being obsessed with Cosette(?)

Going so far as to make routine walks to a certain field just because it's called the Field of the Lark

He's only getting away with this because he's pretty

Cut to how Javert is faring

His prisoners keep escaping him

This is an exaggeration, I think only Claquesous (the best one) disappears

So Javert is in a bit of a testy mood about this

The court decides to keep one of the members of Patron Minette out of solitary so that he can testify

This doesn't go particularly well for the justice system

A very fun little prison code involving baked goods is discussed

Next cut-scene! Let's check in on Mabeuf

Still reading - two books at once, the legend - still in love with his plants

One of them looks sad and wilted but there seems to be no rain to water it

What's this? A young woman come to water his garden for him?

And all she wants to know is where Marius is?

And disappears without a trace once she gets her answer?

This young woman (Eponine, it's Eponine) finds Marius at the Field of the Lark

He does know that a lark is a very common European bird right?

My poor Eponine has the biggest crush on Marius, and Marius is so cold and indifferent

She's so willing to make him happy, she's going so far as to help him find his Lark/Ursula/Cosette(?)

She gets so happy when Marius simply knows her name!

Now Eponine's story has made me sad. I can't imagine how she must be thinking about this whole situation. Does she know that she's helping Marius find her foster sister? Is she helping Marius find her foster sister?

Also, when Hugo says 'solitary' in prison, is that solitary that is around today? That seems like incredibly unnecessary torture in your prison system.

[revoltpark]

just some rambling

revolt park😋😋

So when I started the au i was OBSESSED with Les mis. Like hyper fixated on it and everything, and the other thing I was hyper fixated on was South Park, especially the foreign kids. So i made a little au that was Les mis and mainly Gregory and Christophe based. Gregory being enjolras and Christophe being grantaire. It started off as that but I kinda wanted to add the others like pip and Damien and Herbert and Estella and etc. so I made pip and Herbert combeferre and courfeyrac. Well I did some switching up, making mark combeferre after I saw a little headcanon post abt Gregory and mark on Pinterest and made Herbert courf. I didn’t know what they were specifically revolting against since I didn’t make them be in France, plus I didn’t know what to really do with Damien and pip. So I’m the show since Damien is canonically the prince of darkness, why don’t I make a monarchy for them to be against? Therefore the royals. I named the king Lucifer since it was close enough to Satan, Damien’s canonical dad. And for pip, since I was reading great expectations at the time, just made him some poor boy. I didn’t at first add Kenny but i made a couple of small stories with him in it so therefore he would be somewhat important for the plot. Then I added Estella and Rebecca and realized I really didn’t know what to do with the two, since I get writers block when it gets to the two, so for another plot point, I just killed them off. They were supposed to originally be in a friend group with Wendy and Bebe aswell. At first Estella was gonna be Gregory’s adopted sister and Herbert was gonna be their cousin, but I just scrapped all that extra stuff and made the three siblings. There was gonna be a subtle pipbert thing but I scrapped it aswell because I really liked marbert and dip. I also had a horrible time figuring out what the hell gregory was like. I didn’t want him to be stuck up but I wanted to keep him like the South Park Gregory but also a little like enjolras, plus I didn’t know how that’s as gonna work off because with how I had Gregory before gregstophe was going to be REALLY toxic. And I love gregstophe, so we can’t have that happening, though I do love angst. But anyways, I’ll probably do a little info dump on the living situations and the facts about them, I’ve been working on this au for id say about a year, barely. But I put a lot of time into because why not. 

[thebrickinbrick]

Minus Five, Plus One, Part Two

No one stirred.

“Married men and the supporters of families, step out of the ranks!” repeated Marius.

His authority was great. Enjolras was certainly the head of the barricade, but Marius was its savior.

“I order it,” cried Enjolras.

“I entreat you,” said Marius.

Then, touched by Combeferre’s words, shaken by Enjolras’ order, touched by Marius’ entreaty, these heroic men began to denounce each other.—“It is true,” said one young man to a full grown man, “you are the father of a family. Go.”—“It is your duty rather,” retorted the man, “you have two sisters whom you maintain.”—And an unprecedented controversy broke forth. Each struggled to determine which should not allow himself to be placed at the door of the tomb.

“Make haste,” said Courfeyrac, “in another quarter of an hour it will be too late.”

“Citizens,” pursued Enjolras, “this is the Republic, and universal suffrage reigns. Do you yourselves designate those who are to go.”

They obeyed. After the expiration of a few minutes, five were unanimously selected and stepped out of the ranks.

“There are five of them!” exclaimed Marius.

There were only four uniforms.

“Well,” began the five, “one must stay behind.”

And then a struggle arose as to who should remain, and who should find reasons for the others not remaining. The generous quarrel began afresh.

“You have a wife who loves you.”—“You have your aged mother.”—” You have neither father nor mother, and what is to become of your three little brothers?”—“You are the father of five children.”—“You have a right to live, you are only seventeen, it is too early for you to die.”

These great revolutionary barricades were assembling points for heroism. The improbable was simple there. These men did not astonish each other.

“Be quick,” repeated Courfeyrac.

Men shouted to Marius from the groups:

“Do you designate who is to remain.”

“Yes,” said the five, “choose. We will obey you.”

Marius did not believe that he was capable of another emotion. Still, at this idea, that of choosing a man for death, his blood rushed back to his heart. He would have turned pale, had it been possible for him to become any paler.

He advanced towards the five, who smiled upon him, and each, with his eyes full of that grand flame which one beholds in the depths of history hovering over Thermopylæ, cried to him:

“Me! me! me!”

And Marius stupidly counted them; there were still five of them! Then his glance dropped to the four uniforms.

At that moment, a fifth uniform fell, as if from heaven, upon the other four.

The fifth man was saved.

Marius raised his eyes and recognized M. Fauchelevent.

Jean Valjean had just entered the barricade.

He had arrived by way of Mondétour lane, whither by dint of inquiries made, or by instinct, or chance. Thanks to his dress of a National Guardsman, he had made his way without difficulty.

The sentinel stationed by the insurgents in the Rue Mondétour had no occasion to give the alarm for a single National Guardsman, and he had allowed the latter to entangle himself in the street, saying to himself: “Probably it is a reinforcement, in any case it is a prisoner.” The moment was too grave to admit of the sentinel abandoning his duty and his post of observation.

At the moment when Jean Valjean entered the redoubt, no one had noticed him, all eyes being fixed on the five chosen men and the four uniforms. Jean Valjean also had seen and heard, and he had silently removed his coat and flung it on the pile with the rest.

The emotion aroused was indescribable.

“Who is this man?” demanded Bossuet.

“He is a man who saves others,” replied Combeferre.

Marius added in a grave voice:

“I know him.”

This guarantee satisfied every one.

Enjolras turned to Jean Valjean.

“Welcome, citizen.”

And he added:

“You know that we are about to die.”

Jean Valjean, without replying, helped the insurgent whom he was saving to don his uniform.

[blueberrywhale123]

Les Mis

So I've had an idea boiling around in my brain for over a year or two now (I lose track) and it's a modern AU for Les Mis because I don't like characters dying.

It's a focus on Valjean because I can't for the life of me find modern ones with a focus on Valjean!

So basically, here it goes:

How Valjean reunited with his sister and her son, ended up with Cosette, and later the Enjolras family.

It opens with Valjean moving into his new apartment, it's really small and cheap but all he can afford. He is trying to build a life for himself in the real world after prison and it is an uphill battle. His sister is in Paris working for all he knows, his last letter with her saying as much before he pushed her away and he stopped answering her until she stopped writing.

He runs into his sister a few months later. Tearful reunion. Lots of apologizing. Justine (That's my name for his sister) tells Valjean that her husband passed away (either a work-related death or a drunk driver) and she lost her job and house and the city took her son (maybe Feuilly??) out of her custody because she was failing to provide for him. Valjean immediately gets to work helping Justine. He takes her in, helps her find a job, he talks to all the legal and government people about how to get custody back. It's a grueling process that takes two years but they get Feuilly back entirely.

Valjean then meets Fantine and Cosette, he is their neighbor in the apartment complex. Valjean notices that Fantine is rarely around - working nights - and Cosette is almost always with the Thenardiers down a floor. Fantine takes ill and Valjean nurses her and takes care of Cosette because he finds out that the Thenardiers were using her for child labor. Fantine starts to get better but soon takes a turn for the worse and she’s dying (don’t know from what yet). She asks Valjean if he can make a will for her that puts Cosette in his care. Valjean gets custody of Cosette when Fantine dies and they live a happy life with Justine and her son MaybeFeuilly. Like Marilla and Matthew raising Anne but to the left a little bit.

Cosette even makes friends with some little girls from school that are from the Combeferre and Courfeyrac family (but neither of the brothers know this until years later.)

Little did either know that Fantine wasn't the only woman whom Felix seduced and left pregnant. Rene Enjolras is the son of Paulette Enjolras, whose good husband passed away from cancer. This spurred Rene to check for diseases in his family line and the DNA test came back with a deadbeat sperm donor and a little half-sister. Valjean and Cosette get the shock of a lifetime when Rene asks to meet when he finds out about them at 17, and Cosette is 15. They start a tentative family relationship. His mother moves to England for something and Enjolras decides to go to university in Paris. This leads to him spending a lot of time with Jean and Cosette, they get really close and he stays with them.

The Les Amis stuff happens eventually and I thought that they could have started an afterschool tutoring program for underprivileged kids. Since they did something like it with adults in the book I think. Basically, Enjolras has the hardest time sharing personal information and so barely anyone finds out about Cosette and company unless it's by accident. Courfeyrac and Combeferre didn't actually know for a fact she was real until they saw her at their high school graduation!

Eventually, all the Les Amis find out about Enjolras' whole other branch in his family tree (most of which isn't blood related) and force their way into the circle.

Basically, by the time I'm done with this, Valjean will have sooooo so so many people around him that his little antisocial anxious heart won't know what to do with them all!

I'm gonna write it! At some point in my life ...

[pumpkinspice-prouvaire]

Hi there! Do you have any enjolsette sibs headcanons?

hiiiiii this ask is from literally forever ago lol anyways

(older brother Enj younger sister Cosette, kind of vaguely inspired by my current wip)

Cosette goes to university in Paris and goes a bit wild at first. She's never really had the chance to be independent or rebel before, but now she finally does and she is going to...drink soooo many wine coolers about it. Subsequently, Enjolras (newly graduated, long-suffering) keeps getting calls at 3am like "Enjjjjjj I lost my key can I stay at your place.....Enjjjjjj can you come pick me up I can't get a taxi.....Enjjjjj I'm in the hospital my friend needed her stomach pumped but don't worry the doctor says she's gonna be okay". Enjolras is so tempted to block her number and leave her to fend for herself (he won't).

When Cosette was younger she had a lil bby crush on Courfeyrac. He loves bringing it up to her now, even if she punches him on the arm every time he does. It's worth it for how red she goes.

Neither of them can cook for shit. They had a maid growing up, and it's not like their parents were going to teach them. They also were never allowed takeouts when they were growing up, so when they move to Paris and out from under their parents' thumbs, every time they hang out they use it as an excuse to order from a new place.

Cosette of course becomes a regular at ABC meetings, and everyone loves her because it's Cosette, how can you not??? She's especially good friends with Jehan, they love to get coffee and go to bookstores and the cinema together. The first time he saw Cosette, Marius walked into the corner of a table because he was so distracted. He became a bit more subtle about it when he noticed how Enjolras was looking at him though (he's constantly fighting a war in his head between 'it's none of my business' and 'anyone but Marius god please I beg') (he's got nothing to worry about Cosette is hella gay)