#let him be Grantaire forever

[stars278]

Cause of death: seeing these gifs of Kyle Adams as Grantaire 🥹😭❤️

jonathan young E debut + kyle adams R pining

🎥 @medium-observation

[tragic-ships-tournament]

Tragic Ships Tournament Quarter Finals

Propaganda under the cut!

Enjoltaire:

"Okay so the whole thing with them is that Enjolras is like the leader of the Les Amis; he believes in the revolution in his heart and soul and his being. He is a shining beacon of hope like Victor Hugo calls him Apollo in the book. He believes in freedom and in the future and that beyond the barricade, there's a new tomorrow waiting for them. Grantaire, on the other hand, doesn't believe in anything. He's a drunk and a cynic and he doesn't believe in that new tomorrow. If nothing had something to offer, Grantaire would stop believing in nothing. When he offers to do something to help the Les Amis, he gets distracted and drunk and I think he ends up playing dominoes? It might have been cards. Anyway, that's Grantaire. BUT Grantaire believes in ONE thing. And that ONE thing is ENJOLRAS. No matter how cynical and pessimistic Grantaire is, he believes in Enjolras. If Enjolras is Apollo, Grantaire is Icarus flying ever closer to him. And then at the end. When their revolution has failed and they are facing down the barrel of guns. Grantaire gets up and stands next to Enjolras and asks if he can hold his hand so that they can die together, and they do. It's heartbreaking and heart wrenching and Icarus brings the sun down with him as he falls."

Madohomu:

"madoka magica aired 12 episodes in 2011, with a sequel movie titled “rebellion” released in 2014. it’s been over 10 years since then, and these two have become the face of yuri. if someone makes a meme about loving yuri and makes a collage of example ships, madohomu are 100% gonna be present. video essays, fanart, fics, music videos and all kinds of fan projects featuring them are still wildly popular on all social media platforms.

but let’s talk about them (without going into too many spoilers, so this will be about the thematics in their relationship). they are light and darkness. the ying and the yang. forever intertwined. one would not exist without the other, yet they cannot exist together. for madoka has too much love for every living thing and too little for herself. and homura has too much love for madoka it blinds her to everything and everyone else, and she struggles with deep self-hatred. madoka has forsaken her own existence for the world, and homura has forsaken the world she created for her. the show has a lot of religious imagery, and madoka is akin to a god; there’s a shot of homura, who grew up catholic, kneeling at the feet of a gigantic statue of madoka, praying, but her hands stain her clothes. because if madoka is god, then homura is lucifer - specifically, iblis, the muslim version of lucifer, who loved god so much he betrayed him, for he’d rather defy him than bow to his creation, humans. and homura would rather defy the sanctity of madoka’s wish, rather than obey its laws, for she will take madoka’s happiness in her hands, if she refuses to. in the movie, dolls representing homura’s inner machinations yell, “gott ist tot”, for homura’s god, madoka, dies in the movie, when homura remembers that madoka was human first, and godhood was something she reached to save everyone, against her best interest and happiness. their relationship is one of love, kindness, obsession, devotion, hope, faith, worship - they are the thesis and the antithesis, the beginning and the end, the alpha and omega, an unstoppable force and an immovable object. forever locked in a struggle, never fully embracing, for madoka will always sacrifice herself for the world, and homura will always doom the world and herself for madoka."

[determinedowl23]

ohhhhhmy god oh my god guyssjsjaidbwisjsis IT HAPPENED I SAW IT AND IT WAS AMAZING

Notes:

Act I

I NEED TO MARRY ALFIE BOE SOOOOO BAD BRUH YOU DONT EVEN GET IT

Alfie’s so short I forgot about that lmao he’s so baby

I do really really really love Michael but I can already tell that Javert is not exactly his thing. He’s too whimsical- too Marius. Super glad he gets to do something with Alfie tho <333

Jeremy (I think) rocked the bishop omgggggg

I WAS NOT EXPECTING KATIE HALL TO BE HERE CHAT- soprano Fantine is such a foreign concept to me but she was gorgeous 

THANK YOU BOEBALL VALVERT FOR BEING THERE FOR ME I LOVE MY BOYFRIEND AND HIS BOYFRIEND

THENARDIERS ARE SO FUNNY I’ve never seen funnier thenardiers. He called Cosette Baguette when Valjean took her away

Also at the beginning of the bargain when Alfie started singing Madame T went “oh he’s got a lovely voice tho”

COSETTE NEW PINK DRESS IS SO PRETTY!!!!! It matches Marius’ bow :))))

Ok both Eponine and Cosette were mixed bags for me- I liked them most of the time, but there were a couple times their voices felt a bit… nasally? They were both very pretty tho :)

James D Gish is beautiful. My dad says he’s the second coming of Ramin Karimloo and im inclined to agree

Gavroche is king shit as per usual

They had stars in stars omggg. ALSOOO at the end the lights make it look like he has wings. Probably unintentional but he’s soooooo fallen angelcore 

As much as Michael doesn’t fit Javert, his Stars really is amazing

WE GOT ENJOLTAIRE CRUMBS 👏👏👏 The entire pause between ABC Cafe and Red & Black they were just looking at each other forever

As much as I do love enjoltaire, im an even bigger fan of Gavroche and Grantaire’s dynamic. It was the main thing I noticed about R’s character (even with Kyle Adams playing him) and I’m so happy that it’s in other productions

No Javert barricade outfit in one day more :(

Three flags??? In this economy????

Act II

Okay I did genuinely forget about the barricade outfit but it did come back! It’s different from the Staged Concert, more greenish-black and I think he has his hair down- there’s at least some strands loose on the front

OKAYYYY IM REALLY SURE TGAT BEFORE R STARTED HIS SOLO IN DRINK WITH ME HE WENT AND HELD ENJ’S HAND FOR A BIT- and after he sang and Enj left Gavroche ran over and gave him a hug it was so sweet

Alfie Boe Bring Him Home is still my favoritest thing in the entire world. I owe him my life im so serious he was my top artist for a reason

Enjolras did the Aaron Tveit “until the earth is free” opt up it was amazing

They cut Gavroche’s individual death scene which was either for better or for worse because that’s the one that always gets me crying, so I just teared up at the end

When Javert let valjean and Marius go from the sewers he turned around as if he was gonna follow them, paused, screamed, and put his head and his hand

Dude michael ball does the best suicide scene he’s so unhinged and skdjaidhaisjsj

EMPTY CHAIRS BRO. At “phantom faces” the Amis all stood up in their places in their seats, with Enj, R, and Gavroche on the center balcony right by the conductor. Also at this point he begins to scream with anger at his survival. I’ve never thought about angry Empty Chairs, but it works so well and I need to see it more

Valjean in AHFoL Reprise made me so sad bro. Insert my post about him and Donna Sheridan but add that they’re so attached to their daughter (Amanda Seyfried) and kinda don’t want to let her go to get married

The audience clapped along to Beggars at the Feast. Don’t know if we were allowed to, but we did anyways

When Marius tells Cosette her father is a saint Valjean just shakes his head no oh my god 😭😭

HE DID THE NICK CARTELL NOSE BOOP WITH COSETTE

THE BISHOP COMES UP BEHIND VALJEAN WHEN HE DIES AND VALJEAN GIVES HIM THE BIGGEST HUG EVER OMFGGGGGG

During bows when Michael came up to bow with Alfie they had to switch sides so that Michael could be on the left and Alfie could be on the right. Order has been restored to the world

In summary: Amazing show god I love Les Mis!!!!! Alfie Boe is the only one who can save me <3333

[syrupsyche]

Let us take a look at Enjolras' final transformation.

He has truly become god-like now. Despite 24 hours of fighting, he "had not a wound, who was as indifferent as an invulnerable being". He is compared to (as we all know well) Apollo, as well as a flower. Both a god and a thing of nature, Enjolras has far left the realm of humanity, he is already gone before he is killed.

Lastly, it is no surprise that when Enjolras dies, he dies standing. There, he completes his transformation. Just like Galatea the statue turning human, Enjolras turns into a statue-like form. We are left with this last image of him leaning upright, head bowed, forever standing.

And fulfilling his own role as well, Grantaire collapses at Enjolras' feet, forever to be the statue's supplicant.

[thebrickinbrick]

Preliminary Gayeties, Part 2

"Besides, Laigle de Meaux, that bald-head, offends my sight. It humiliates me to think that I am of the same age as that baldy. However, I criticise, but I do not insult. The universe is what it is. I speak here without evil intent and to ease my conscience. Receive, Eternal Father, the assurance of my distinguished consideration. Ah! by all the saints of Olympus and by all the gods of paradise, I was not intended to be a Parisian, that is to say, to rebound forever, like a shuttlecock between two battledores, from the group of the loungers to the group of the roysterers. I was made to be a Turk, watching oriental houris all day long, executing those exquisite Egyptian dances, as sensuous as the dream of a chaste man, or a Beauceron peasant, or a Venetian gentleman surrounded by gentlewoman, or a petty German prince, furnishing the half of a foot-soldier to the Germanic confederation, and occupying his leisure with drying his breeches on his hedge, that is to say, his frontier. Those are the positions for which I was born! Yes, I have said a Turk, and I will not retract. I do not understand how people can habitually take Turks in bad part; Mohammed had his good points; respect for the inventor of seraglios with houris and paradises with odalisques! Let us not insult Mohammedanism, the only religion which is ornamented with a hen-roost! Now, I insist on a drink. The earth is a great piece of stupidity. And it appears that they are going to fight, all those imbeciles, and to break each other’s profiles and to massacre each other in the heart of summer, in the month of June, when they might go off with a creature on their arm, to breathe the immense heaps of new-mown hay in the meadows! Really, people do commit altogether too many follies. An old broken lantern which I have just seen at a bric-à-brac merchant’s suggests a reflection to my mind; it is time to enlighten the human race. Yes, behold me sad again. That’s what comes of swallowing an oyster and a revolution the wrong way! I am growing melancholy once more. Oh! frightful old world. People strive, turn each other out, prostitute themselves, kill each other, and get used to it!”

And Grantaire, after this fit of eloquence, had a fit of coughing, which was well earned.

“À propos of revolution,” said Joly, “it is decidedly abberent that Barius is in lub.”

“Does any one know with whom?” demanded Laigle.

“Do.”

“No?”

“Do! I tell you.”

“Marius’ love affairs!” exclaimed Grantaire. “I can imagine it. Marius is a fog, and he must have found a vapor. Marius is of the race of poets. He who says poet, says fool, madman, Tymbræus Apollo. Marius and his Marie, or his Marion, or his Maria, or his Mariette. They must make a queer pair of lovers. I know just what it is like. Ecstasies in which they forget to kiss. Pure on earth, but joined in heaven. They are souls possessed of senses. They lie among the stars.”

Grantaire was attacking his second bottle and, possibly, his second harangue, when a new personage emerged from the square aperture of the stairs. It was a boy less than ten years of age, ragged, very small, yellow, with an odd phiz, a vivacious eye, an enormous amount of hair drenched with rain, and wearing a contented air.

The child unhesitatingly making his choice among the three, addressed himself to Laigle de Meaux.

“Are you Monsieur Bossuet?”

“That is my nickname,” replied Laigle. “What do you want with me?”

“This. A tall blonde fellow on the boulevard said to me: ‘Do you know Mother Hucheloup?’ I said: ‘Yes, Rue Chanvrerie, the old man’s widow;’ he said to me: ‘Go there. There you will find M. Bossuet. Tell him from me: “A B C”.’ It’s a joke that they’re playing on you, isn’t it. He gave me ten sous.”

“Joly, lend me ten sous,” said Laigle; and, turning to Grantaire: “Grantaire, lend me ten sous.”

This made twenty sous, which Laigle handed to the lad.

“Thank you, sir,” said the urchin.

“What is your name?” inquired Laigle.

“Navet, Gavroche’s friend.”

“Stay with us,” said Laigle.

“Breakfast with us,” said Grantaire.

The child replied:—

“I can’t, I belong in the procession, I’m the one to shout ‘Down with Polignac!’”

And executing a prolonged scrape of his foot behind him, which is the most respectful of all possible salutes, he took his departure.

[pyromaniacbibliophile]

Bricktober day 3- JBM

Musichetta finding out about the barricade

____________________

Morning arrives, bathing Paris in red light. Musichetta stirs alone again. She hasn’t seen her boys for a day or two. Normally she wouldn’t worry, Bossuet in particular is always and forever going off for walks and finding himself halfway across France. However there’s something different about today. 

She gets dressed and walks out onto the street where a hawker is selling newspapers. She glances over and stops dead. 

‘Students Dead In Barricade’ The headline proclaims. All the air flies out of her lungs. She rushes over and snatches a newspaper. The hawker goes to protest but takes a look at her and decides against it. 

“The student revolutionary group known as Les Amis De L’ABC died last night at their barricade. They were protesting at Rue Saint-Martin. Many soldiers-” She doesn’t read any more before she runs. 

She knows she gets many glances but she doesn’t care, focused on getting there. 

Her footsteps echo through Boulevard de Bonne Nouvelle as she turns a corner and skids to a halt. 

Behind a half-blown up barricade made of chairs, tables, signs, barrels and many more things lie bodies.  

This can’t be real, surely. Surely this isn’t Enjolras and Grantaire lying together, stained with blood. Surely this isn’t the body of little Gavroche. Surely that can’t be Monsieur Mabeuf. Surely she’s hallucinating. Or dreaming. Or maybe they’re all asleep. 

Her breathing picks up as she steps over Courfreyac’s corpse and sinks to her knees. 

Her boys. Her beautiful boys. 

Bossuet is curled around Joly as if trying to protect him. Both of them stare sightlessly through glassy eyes, gunshot holes straight through their shirts. 

No. No. No. This can’t be happening. They would have told her.

They had been evasive the past week or two. Joly was almost never away from her- overly affectionate in a way that was so unlike him. Bossuet had been pulling away slowly, distant and restraining himself. She had worried. She had planned to ask about it-

God. 

She collapses in a heap next to them. She doesn’t cry. She can’t. 

“Batards.” She mutters quietly. 

If anyone had passed by then, they would have thought there to be three dead bodies where there were only two. 

Hours pass. She is shivering now, but she doesn’t leave. Why did they do it? Why didn’t they tell her? 

Footsteps make her sit up sharply. She thinks she must be asleep, for Marius is walking stiltedly through the maze of bodies, tears running down his cheeks. 

“Marius?” She calls, her voice cracking. She gets to her feet. 

“Musichetta?” 

She starts crying then, loud sobs wracking her with grief. How is he alive? How is he alive when her boys are dead? 

“They’re dead. They’re all dead. Joly, Bossuet-” She dissolves into tears again.

Marius hugs her awkwardly. She guesses he’s injured from the way he holds himself. 

It takes her a second to realise he’s whispering something. 

“It should have been me. I should have- I should be here with them. I don’t deserve this life.” 

“No. No, they would not have wanted that. If anyone, it should have been me. They would be glad someone survived. They knew the risks.” 

He clearly doesn’t know what to say to that. After a pause, he lets go of her. 

“‘Chetta, you are freezing. Come with me, I am staying with my love’s father. There will be space for you.”

“I can’t leave them, Marius.” 

“Would they want you to catch hypothermia here? Come. We will make sure they are buried properly.”

She leaves with Marius, but after Joly and Bossuet’s funeral and Marius and Cosette’s wedding, she goes to Italy. Paris held too many memories. 

She never loved another like she had loved her boys. 

When she dies, she is buried next to them in Paris. 

_________________________________

@lesmis-prompts

[16ozicedcoffee]

i saw the les mis us tour last night and it was incredibly WONDERFUL. moments that were absolutely DEVASTATING and will never leave my brain are (spoilers):

Graintaire comforting Gavroche after Eponine’s death

Grantaire, after being handed Gavroche’s dead body, shaking him over and over again as if Gavroche will wake up

Grantaire not leaving Gavroche’s body until he sees Enjolras going back to the barricade

R and Gavroche were so sweet throughout the whole show, there were so many little moments between them. it made R’s reaction to Gav dying that much worse for my well-being

after seeing Enjolras heading back to the barricade, R grabs him and it looks like he’s begging Enjolras not to go out there. Enjolras shakes R’s arm off, and R leaves his arm stretched up towards the sky (stretched up to Enjolras) as he watches Enjolras get shot and topple over the barricade

(Enjolras and R have multiple interactions throughout the show that might slip peoples notice, but Not Mine. mostly Enjolras brushing R off etc etc. but towards the end, Enjolras is no longer brushing R off and instead seems like he wants to let R linger longer. alas, a revolution has to be fought)

R grabbing a bottle and running up the barricade, popping up to be visible and immediately getting shot (i was a little devastated we didn’t get a ‘dying holding hands do you permit it etc etc’ ExR death, but this was also unbearably sad) (R shouts something before he gets shot, could not hear what exactly he shouts because everyone was crying but I think it’s something along the lines of “I’m one of them”)

after the barricade and all of our dear barricade boys are cleared away, a policeman is revealed to be dragging Enjolras (posed like aaronjolras falling out his window) around in a cart. Enjolras’ arm is dragging on the ground :((((((

Javert comes on stage looking for Valjean then, but he sees Gavroche’s body (laid out so nice and gently by R :((() and pays his respects (this was extra tragic because earlier in the show Javert and Gavroche have the cutest little interaction where Gavroche salutes Javert. Javert definitely knows and recognizes him). Gavroche is then lifted and placed ever so gently in the cart with Enjolras

anyways the whole show was wonderful!! absolutely beautiful performances by the entire cast. i will be thinking about this Grantaire and his relationships with Enjolras and Gavroche for forever

[thebansacredbanned]

Tagged by @wishthefish!

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

123... somehow... oh wait i know how its bc i did whumptober

2) What's your total AO3 word count?

392,687

3) What fandoms do you write for?

Currently: The Untamed/MDZS, Nirvana in Fire, A League of Nobleman, The Blood of Youth [screaming, crying, trying please i need more people to write tBoY fic my crops are dying], The Disguiser [sometimes]. I'm also working on a few ideas for Mysterious Lotus Casebook which I finished last week

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

So these are all from back when I was actually writing the most popular pairing for a popular fandom, as opposed to now where I'm either writing the Rarest of rare-pairs or for fandoms that have <100 english fics so:

Yellow Petals - The Witcher, Geraskier, hanahaki

I Would Know Him In Death (At The End of the World) - Les Mis, E/R, les amis are reincarnated greek heroes

Butter-cup of Tea - The Witcher, Geraskier, round robin me and @nemainofthewater wrote together that I'm sure had a plot

as I reckon with the effects of your life on mine - The Witcher, Jaskier & Valdo Marx, another one by me and Nemain where I wrote Jaskier's letters and Nemain wrote Valdo Marx's

Know the Water's Sweet but Blood is Thicker - The Witcher, Jaskier is Calanthe's brother, yikes I never finished that one oops

5) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to (sometimes I forget though lol)! It feels nice to have some kind of interactions with other fans, plus that's how I made friends with @wishthefish so there's always a risk chance of getting to know people ;P

6) What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

hahhaahahahahahahaahahahhah

ummmm all of them?

it's probably 'You left me here behind, do you not care?' which has very little room for any hope at all come the end

7) What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

this is actually harder than the angst one, somehow. like happy? are any of truly happy??

I'm restricting it to things I wrote this year and I'm going to say As we walk with the sun hand in hand from the wreck, which is the 'happy ending' stem of the Xuyao choose your own adventure thing I was working on this year

8) Do you get hate on fics?

I did once, but it was for a fandom I was already over in a work I wasn't like 100% sold on anyway and I found it kind of funny

9) Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

No but as I put in a group chat the other day "every day i inch closer to writing porn and i am not happy about it".

To be fair I don't think I'll ever write full-blown smut, and generally I find that, for what I'm writing at least, having things left implied is better bc then people can imagine whatever they want (and I don't have to write it)

10) Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I do in fact have a NiF/Untamed bodyswap crossover in my docs which I either need to write more of or decide that I'm not going to write any more of and just post as is

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! There's a French translation of I Would Know Him in Death (At the End of the World)!

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have several co-written fic with @nemainofthewater - we share a braincell so it's always a lot of fun

14) What's your all-time favorite ship?

See that's a. that's a question that I'm finding WAY harder to answer than it should be.

Probably E/R (Enjolras/Grantaire) from Les Miserables. Like R is still my tumblr/ao3 picture (and my phone home screen), I might now actually be in the fandom so much any more but forever in my heart etc

15) What's a wip that you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Oh man I just went on my posted works on ao3 and I have a les mis fencing au that I last updated in 2020. That's never going to to happen

16) What are your writing strenghts?

Lets see how much angst I can fit in a very small amount of words 😈

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

I struggle finishing anything longer than about 2k which is a pain bc I have lots of ideas that deserve a lot more words than I can focus on writing for them

18) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

It's cool when people do it (especially if they have hover-ovre translations)! I haven't ever tried and am unlikely to any time soon

19) First fandom you wrote for?

Turn! (actually the first fandom I wrote for was Hamilton but that never saw the light of day and NEVER WILL)

I'm going to tag @nemainofthewater @luzzeagain @woobifiedvillain and anyone else who feels like it!

[fencesiiitter]

WRITE IN FRONT

•i wrote this short work about Enjolras&Grantaire… could u make some comments if u have somethin' to say after u read this? i'll be glad to see my works have some reflections and i really need some suggestions!

•warnings: this work is about their dying hours.

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

The residual warmth of his palm prevented Grantaire from hearing the successive shots very clearly.

"Now I'm the one who's been shaken by an angel." That was all Grantaire's mind conveyed to him, until he began to feel as if his mind was ready to end this never-ending to exhaust the cheap labor of thinking, and to spend its old age in the dark underground. "Then this is the death that those royal family and nobles feared, and now I can taste their fear, and I didn't expect it to be almost like drunkenness—isn't it! " He thought. "Now I'm lying here as if I'm drunk, unable to move, the smell of blood has replaced the suffocating smell of alcohol before, this pain is somewhat similar to the pain of strong alcohol burning the stomach, but it's more intense. Look at the bright red on the chest again! Who put on the Robespierre-style waistcoat for me? Although I haven't been able to take a beautiful woman on my arm in the summer when the flowers are blooming, to the freshly cut straw pile in the field, to breathe the scent of tea in the vast world, and travel is not as interesting as drinking, but it is also time to travel around the world after death! "

Grantaire was about to start his journey, and when he half closed his eyes he felt he had some strength left, and something unfinished. So he raised his head and looked at his god. Enjolras's beautiful, blue, clear blue eyes without a trace of haze, which fascinated Grantaire, had dimmed the fire, and could no longer let him burn to the bone. "It turns out that the sun that shines all over the earth will eventually go out, and it will take away the cold and pale moonlight along with it." Grantaire thought vaguely, counting the bullet holes on Enjolras' body from top to bottom, "One, Two, three... eight. Hey! What naughty urchin dares to throw marbles beside the most beautiful icon, and destroy the most successful creation of the merciful God? On the breast of Prometheus there will be seven more diamond nails. Well done, and now I shall have eight holes in my heart! "

When the pages of the book of thoughts were burned to the last corner by the lit match, a drop of blood from the marble statue fell on the tip of Grantaire's nose, walked along the bridge of the nose in a zigzag way, and stayed between the eyebrows, there was still a trace of hotness, which was illuminated by the lamps of revolution. It was the last sliver of light left by the sun to the human world, and Grantaire had it all to himself. He was a little proud, feeling that when he was on the verge of death, he was ignited again, as if he had been ignited by the unburned heat countless times before. He felt his heart beat violently again with the dripping blood, even if only for a short time.

"Flee from this dry and narrow land, where the cold night will fall! Today is the end, and it must be the end," he said to himself. Yet a secret joy filled him with inexplicable pride that at last he had the wings of Icarus, and was successful, near the unattainable sun. Grantaire looked into Enjolras' already hollow blue pupils again, recalling the pity in Enjolras' eyes the first time he looked at Enjolras through the noisy crowd of the tavern and the overturned wine bottle. This was his last memory when he was about to forget everything.

Dionysus came to an end. In the blur, only darkness remained around, and Grantaire seemed to see the ashes of the wings behind Enjolras. An angel escaped from the protection of heaven and died forever. Grantaire, the believer of the angel, who had devoutly kissed the ground under his feet, was now lying on the ground he once kissed, and was about to go with his faith.

Grantaire closed his eyes, and headed for a permanent hangover.

THE END

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

thanks for your patient readin'!

[t0daysgoneby]

When Grantaire broke contact, it was because he was out of breath. He let Enjolras keep his hands on his waist, looked him in the eyes. "I.. holy shit." He said, reached to move a strand of Enjolras' hair behind his ear, gently.

"I've.. had a crush on you forever."

@betterto-die-thanto-crawl

Prom had approached faster than Grantaire thought it would, and despite Éponine's attempts to convince him to just ask Enjolras to go with him, his nerves had failed him. Instead, he wasn't going to go at all, and when he told Éponine that, she looked at him as if he had admitted to secretly being the president. Then dragged him to get a nice shirt and better pants thar the jeans and hoodie he preferred.

He wore it, reluctantly, but spent his time sat on a chair, bored, and stared at his phone. He hated it, every second felt like hours.

"Can't we just go to my place and order pizza, Ponine?" She shook her head, her eyes fixed on her crush, Marius, and Grantaire's eyes didn't take too long to spot Enjolras.

[jondrettegirls]

[ID: A digital drawing of Grantaire from Les Miserables. He is leaning back on a chair, one leg on a table with a spilled wine bottle on it. He is gesturing with both hands, one of which is also holding wine. He is smiling with a speech bubble coming from him that says, “lmao snowflake.” End ID.]

r doodle while i make my way thru the brick….. 🫠

[expired-applejuice]

Group chat... part 1?

Courfeyrac added Bahorel , Bossuet, Cosette, Combeferre, Enjolras, Eponine, Feuilly, Grantaire, Gavroche, Javert, Joly, Montparnasse, Musichetta, Prouvaire, and Valjean to the chat

Courfeyrac changed the Chat's name to "French gents"

Courfeyrac: there we go!

Enjolras: Courfeyrac, why is Inspector Javert in this chat.

Courfeyrac: he seems chill.

Eponine: OI! There are more than just "gents" in this chat!

Musichetta: as long as I'm included I don't mind.

Javert: what is this?

Valjean: this seems like a way to send online letters to multiple people at once.

Bahorel: I just aged, like 50 years, reading that.

Joly: something is missing.

Bossuet: snacks?

Cosette: where is Marius

Courfeyrac: CRAP

Combeferre: don't add him

Valjean: ^^

Javert: agreed with the smart man.

Combeferre: What does he contribute to our group?

-

R: I hate you all so much! I'm leaving.

Flowerboi: you can't.

Bah: this is a family!

Center: you're already on the Revolutionaries holiday card.

Ferre: you're one of us.

Jolllllly: we're your idiots forever.

Bald-uet: and you'll never escape!

Poland: NEVER

Inspectdeez: still don't understand why Poland joined the French gents chat...

Monty: I just realized Feuilly is Poland's biggest fan

Monty: get it?

Monty: FAN

Poni: out.

24601: Javert arrest him

Apollo: I don't get it.

R: blonde.

LiteralAngel: Because he makes fans.

Apollo: Cosette... I'm sorry for everything you may think I said about you. You live up to your name.

Ferre: in reality it was all about Marius being an idiot.... how did he pull you? Like Eponine I get, but Marius?

LiteralAngel: he makes me laugh.

Flowerboi: lol they really be talking about him like he's not in chat.

Disowned: it's bad enough they named me after my trauma

Monty: we could have named you DeadDad.

Jolllllly: you guys are so mean.

Bald-uet: stop picking on him

Queen: Marius want a free coffee on the house?

Disowned: Thanks Musichetta.

Queen: no problem

24601: ..... I agree with Combeferre.

LiteralAngel: Papa!

Pup: BAHHAHAHAHA

Poni: Marius has some good traits.

Inspectdeez: name 3.

Poni: he is kind

LiteralAngel: he is smart.

Ferre: yeah right.

Poni: passionate.

Disowned: thanks babes.

Center: never say that again Pontmercy.

Bah: please.

Poland: I actually liked the joke Monty.

Monty: :D

Bah: ...

Jehan: run

Apollo: seriously... run

R: you're in danger mon ami.

Monty: o_O

Bald-uet: stop with those weird faces.

Monty: :p

Bald-uet: please.

Monty: okay.

-

Inspectdeez: which one of you dumbass, walking dead looking children took my new sword

Ferre: I'm not saying it was Valjean... but he has a history.

Valjean: it was just a loaf of bread!

Jolllllly: and the silver from the bishop.

Pup: and petit Gervais's money.

Apollo: and the French uniform.

Poni: according to father, Cosette.

LiteralAngel: that was a lie.

Poni: I know... I felt left out.

Inspectdeez: my heart.

Inspectdeez deleted a chat...

24601: ... still it wasn't me.

Bah: one time R stole apples.

R: that's it! I'm no longer going easy on you in boxing.

Bah: oooo I'm so scared.

Pup: someone record it, please.

Center: I got you.

Queen: honestly, when have you used a sword?

Inspectdeez: when a certain someone tried to guilt trip me into letting him go.

24601: I OFFERED FOR YOU TO COME WITH ME

Inspectdeez: so defensive. Only guilty people are that defensive.

24601: you said we should forget the past. Have I brought up the fact that you recognized me from my muscles.

Pup: that's pretty gay

LiteralAngel: papa, javert please don't start again.

Inspectdeez: sorry Cosette.

24601: sorry Cosette.

Inspectdeez: I know you didn't steal it. I'm sorry.

Jolllllly: Lesgle is crying

Queen: like super hard

Bald-uet: it's just so beautiful.

Flowerboi: Cosette really is talented. She straight up told wolverine and gladiator to shut up.

Monty: she could beat all our asses tbh

Disowned: and than Eponine would beat you for even trying to hurt Cosette.

Ferre: it's good to know who wears the pants in the relationship

-

Poni: where did you get that sword Gav?

Pup: from the inspector while he put it down to pick a flower.

Inspectdeez: WHAT?!

Flowerboi: flower power!!

Inspectdeez: IT WAS THE CHILD

Pup: told you not to underestimate me. This only goes to show what little people can do.

R: lol he said "i have the high ground"

Apollo: perhaps I was to quick to judge Gavroche.

24601: Gavroche please don't hurt yourself

Center: ^^ please

Ferre: you need some training.

Jolllllly: not by Bossuet

Queen: he'd probably stab someone. By accident of course

Jolllllly: or himself.

Bald-uet: no faith in me

Bah: you shouldn't take it personal

Poland: I've seen him hurt himself by walking

Bah: that's not that surprising.

Queen: either way I love you.

Jolllllly: as does I.

R: ima throw up

Flowerboi: R don't ruin their moment.

Disowned: see there so much love!

Apollo: shut up marius

Ferre: oh Enjolras <3

R: Questo stupido nerd mi sta dando sui nervi. Faresti meglio a dormire con un occhio aperto stanotte. Perseguiterò i tuoi sogni e ti porterò io stesso alla ghigliottina. Tiro la leva anch'io con un sorriso.

Disowned: mamma mia

Ferre: ...

Apollo: what did he say

R: Se vuoi vivere non dirglielo, Combeferre

Ferre: he told me about his art... what great art it is.

Center: Picasso

R: Buona

Bah: he knows how to speak Mario?

Poland: MARIO

LiteralAngel: what did I miss?

Poni: a lot, mon amour

LiteralAngel: I can kind of see that

Inspectdeez: kid can I have my sword back.

Pup: what do I get in return

Inspectdeez: a full pardon.

Pup: I'm a child.

24601: I should have taken advise from him.

Inspectdeez: fine. I will let you ride the horse into your school.

Pup: I'm on my way now.

Monty: I fear that kid.

Bah: same.

-

Ferre: settle a debate. Is barbie a lesbian

R: DUH

Center: TOLD YOU

Ferre: how is she gay what about ken

Poni: she has all those women in her life, and she hasn't had one lesbian lover? Unrealistic. She was a queer.

Ferre: ITS A KID'S PRODUCT!!!

Inspectdeez: they are banned in many different countries.

Center: HA

Center: I'm sorry, please still love me.

Ferre: of course I do. Now I see it.

R: her closet was bigger than jehan's

Flowerboi: don't judge me.

R: I'm just saying you both have style.

Flowerboi: well it doesn't mean much coming from you. I've only seen you in 4 different outfits.

R: don't judge me.

Bah: I felt the heat on that burn.

Poland: that was barley a burn you himbo.

Bah: what?

Apollo: by saying what you proved his point

Jolllllly: check and mate

24601: do you guys often get into stupid arguments?

LiteralAngel: papa that should be a given.

Queen: if they don't something is wrong.

Bald-uet: one time Bahorel swore that he saw a UFO

Bah: I'm just saying, there was a bright light and than a weird noise.

Inspectdeez: you live in one of the worse part of town. All those could have been crazy drug addicts.

Poland: see told you. There's nothing to be afraid of.

Bah: I'm not scared.

Monty: you literally blew up our phones to ask if you can stay with me and Jehan.

Bah: you know what, Montparnasse? I'm getting real tired of your shit now.

LiteralAngel: language.

Jolllllly: there are kids in this chat.

Pup: I don't give a damn.

Bald-uet: I think the kids will be alright.

Poni: who the fuck taught him those shitty ass words?

Ferre: ...

Disowned: TV.

LiteralAngel: yeah definitely.

Center: Eponine.

Disowned: shush

Poni: oh... lol eh. I'm not his mother.

Apollo: okay back to the barbie thing- did you now watch the movies??? That is a homosexual

Center: thank you!

Queen: how did Combeferre not see that?

Ferre: because... I was to worried about Ken.

Ferre: do you think Ken was gay.

R: yes.

LiteralAngel: for sure.

Poni: no doubt.

Poland: did you see toy story 3?

Center: cried My eyes out.

-

Poni: COSETTE COME GET YOUR SON!

24601: WHAT!?

Inspectdeez: I WILL KILL MARIUS.

Disowned: I didn't do It I swear.

LiteralAngel: oh calm down everyone. My furby.

Poni: YOU MEAN YOUR DEMON! THIS THING JUST TALKED AND I TOOK THE BATTERIES OUT! COME GET IT OR ITS GOING IN THE FIRE

Flowerboi: burn it.

Ferre: even I can't explain this.

R: it's simple. There's another battery in the toy, so the batteries you take out charge the one inside so when you take those out, it still works.

Apollo: how did you know that?

R: Google is free.

Bah: still its creepy throw it in the fire.

Inspectdeez: I told Valjean not to get her it.

24601: SHE GAVE ME THE EYES

Jolllllly: the eyes always get ya.

Pup: it's true I want some food? I flash my puppy eyes to Courfeyrac and boom! Food.

Center: you don't have to do that. I'll get you it either way.

Poland: the don't work when you get older.

Bald-uet: maybe not for you, but let Jolly or Musichetta give me puppy eyes I will give them the world. I would either way but with those eyes, I'd have tears down my face.

Queen: I love my bald Boi <3

Jolllllly: as do I.

R: I'm guess none of them have hair pulling kinks.

Queen: no but if we did, I'll get grippy socks and suction cups, we'll make it work.

Monty: ...

Poni: that's going to be an image I can't get out of my head.

R: Apollo have a hair pulling kink

Poni: it got worse

Disowned: TMI R.

Ferre: can we get off this subject.

Apollo: GRANTAIRE!

Jolllllly: that is something I never needed to know about our leader.

Bah: someone Google how to forget

LiteralAngel: did you know you can turn your furby evil

Poni: WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO DO THAT

Disowned: that really is creepy

Bah: chuck. It. Into. The. Fire.

Monty: take it back to where it came.

Flowerboi: hell.

Poland: I want one.

Bah: no!

Poland: 🥺

Bah: no?

Poland: please

Bah: fine

Poland: My God they do work

Pup: can I have an evil one?

Poni: absolutely not.

LiteralAngel: anything you want Gavroche

Pup: can Cosette be my big sister insead?

Jolllllly: oof.

Apollo: no words

Poni: I'm hurt. Oh so very hurt. All because I won't get you a demon advertised for children.

Pup: it's not that you won't GET me one. It's that you won't let me have one. I can get it myself.

Inspectdeez: no stealing.

Pup: can't prove nothing inspector

Monty: he has the text.

Pup: and you need to shut up.

Bah: You can say that again

LiteralAngel: I'm flattered Gavroche, but your sister loves you. And to be honest furbies are mid.

24601: mid what?

Inspectdeez: I think she hit 'send' to soon. She probably ment middle or something.

R: you two are so old.

Queen: Be nice R.

Flowerboi: mid means average.

24601: oh.

Inspectdeez: hmm.

Bald-uet: R you don't ever meet the requirements to be mid, you're just 'ugh'

R: this is drunk abuse.

Poni: you abuse drinking.

Bah: everything is better with alcoholism... that how my dad said I got here.

Jolllllly: self burns.... those are rare.

Disowned: sucks to be you.

Bah: Marius look at your name.

Disowned: ...

Bah: exactly

Pup: so no furby?

Poni: no.

Poland: if they are mid I don't want one either.

-

Poland: did anyone else see Bossuet walk face first into a wall and than fell over a chair.

Flowerboi: I did... he justed laid there.

Poni: mood.

Inspectdeez: same.

R: wish I was there to see.

Bald-uet: shut up Grantaire.

LiteralAngel: where are you r?

Grantaire: Narnia

Jolllllly: back in the closet already?

Grantaire: I'm going to slap the Mcshit out of you and your bald partner.

Bald-uet: oh God, I almost gave a fuck.

Apollo: R is at the library I checked his location.

Queen: you need to know how to read to be in a library.

Center: Musichetta!! Don't be like that.

Center: they have picture books.

R: I'm absolutely done with your guys' bullying.

Bah: oh no. Don't do something jurassic!

Disowned: how would we live with ourselves

Poni: Marius you're not good enough friends to pick on Grantaire like this. Stick to being nice.

R: everyone be ready tomorrow.

Flowerboi: *gasp* you're going to beat our ass?!

Monty: oh no!

R: no the trash is picked up tomorrow, you guys can't miss y'all's ride to the dump.

R: except you Cosette.

LiteralAngel: thanks r.

Ferre: lol you know we're just picking on you. We know you're super smart.

R: I know.

Jolllllly: he's just saying that so you don't hit him.

R: I think he really means it. We've really bonded since then.

Ferre: yep!

Inspectdeez: let's not do anything gay here.

Poland: than let me tell ya, you're in the wrong chat.

24601: definitely.

Inspectdeez: you're about as annoying as little kids asking to play games on people's phones.

Pup: hey!

24601: and you're blind as Dora. How many times did I get away.

Inspectdeez: leave it in the past Valjean.

24601: why do I get in trouble when I bring it up?!

Bald-uet: because you're an ex-con.

Bah: because Javert is a dick.

24601: I'm going with the latter statement.

LiteralAngel: I will take away both of your walks in the park if you don't get along.

Queen: once again Cosette serves.

Inspectdeez: sorry Cosette.

24601: sorry.

Pup: did anyone video Bossuet falling?

Flowerboi: no sorry, it happened so quickly.

Poland: we should really have our cameras on when he's around. We could make a montage

Bald-uet: wow. Just wow.

Monty: we could be famous

Bah: we could be rich

Jolllllly: leave him alone.

Jolllllly: it's not fault he was an accident who keeps doing things on accident

Apollo: pffffft

R: I'm agog.

Queen: he came in this world an accident, he'll go out on accident. It's his way of life.

Jolllllly: love you Lesgle <3

Queen: I love you more. <3.

Bald-uet: love you guys too. But it was on accident.

Center: AHHAAHHAH

Disowned: :o

Bah: SHOP WITH THE FACES

-

Flowerboi: were you dropped as a baby?

Ferre: who is he talking too?

Poland: No I was not! I just think that your garden isn't good as last year.

Disowned: TAKE COVER!

Center: CLEAR THE ROOM

Poni: it's a good day to die.

R: I'm always ready to die

Apollo: that checks out.

Flowerboi: my flowers are beautiful! The weather just got cold and they thought it was time to die. You're just mad because they look better than you on a good day.

Poland: please, I look better than you and your flowers! You human version of sparkling water

Jolllllly: should we stop this?

Centers: absolutely not.

Bah: fight fight fight.

LiteralAngel: don't fight. The flowers look great. You take good care of them, Jehan. And Feuilly you look amazing.

Poland: I know.

Flowerboi: thanks Cosette.

R: Cosette you can solve any problem but can you solve myself loathing?

LiteralAngel: you hate that you keep your feelings to yourself causeing what you want to slip away. You tell yourself that you would fail so you don't try and than drink to make yourself feel better. Grantaire you're capable of so much, and you have so much love. Just put it out there.

Queen: she hit the nail on the head.

R: damn... she's right

Monty: I come on the behalf of Bahorel.... will he ever get bitches.

Bah: listen here you crusty, stale, cold McDonald's fry. I got a lover, who is not a bitch.

Poland: :)

Bah: though he needs to stop making those weird faces in chat.

Poland: :(

Bald-uet: same.

24601: is it all drama with you kids.

Ferre: you're one to talk.

Inspectdeez: lol

Apollo: sometimes I wonder if any of you have a brain, it's nice to know you don't.

Apollo: except Cosette, and Musichetta and Gavroche

Jolllllly: no fair Musichetta also throws insults.

Apollo: but she does it with class.

Queen: mhm.

Center: pft, class is chocolate milk in a wine glass with a crazy straw.

Disowned: what tea party did you go too? Can I go.

R: sorry only people who don't like Napoleon can go.

Ferre: I'm not sorry.

24601: me either

Poni: lol

Disowned: thanks for the help Eponine.

Poni: no problem.

[lenathesingingcat]

So, the prompt “Soulmates” for day 29 of @themiserablesmonth and the line in the book about complementary colours gave me the idea for an AU where your soulmate always wears the opposite colour to you (unless you get dressed together and deliberately coordinate or something.)

Red And Green

Grantaire liked to wear green. It suited him, he thought, better than any other colour. His wardrobe was almost entirely green. So he always wore green.

What troubled him was that Enjolras always wore red. The universe seemed to enjoy teasing him, making it seem as if he and Enjolras were meant to be. And he knew it couldn’t be. He hardly expected Enjolras to even look at him, let alone love him, and certainly not to be with him forever.

Of course, he couldn’t exactly blame Enjolras for liking the colour. He’d be a massive hypocrite if he did, since he also wore one colour most of the time. But he could prove once and for all that they weren’t meant to be. He searched through every second hand shop he could find, until finally, he found something. It was admittedly a little over the top, definitely a costume rather than a regular coat, but it was only for one meeting. If Grantaire could prove that he wasn’t supposed to be with Enjolras, maybe he could move on. He doubted it, but he told himself he could.

Cosette was the first person Grantaire saw, as they arrived at the same time, and she noticed Grantaire’s unusually red costume. “Cool coat, Grantaire! Are you dressing up as the man from that film we all love singing along to? You know, the one who looks like my dad?”

Grantaire laughed, he had to admit there was a resemblance. “Maybe, maybe not. But I’m wearing it to test out a theory, not to start a circus.”

“That’s a shame, I can really see Les Amis doing all the acrobatics!” Cosette laughed. “Am I allowed to know what your theory might be?”

They walked into the café, and Grantaire was too shocked to answer. He stared across the room at Enjolras, who, for the first time ever to Grantaire’s knowledge, was wearing green.

[midasinc]

I'm feeling the Angst tonight, so let me give you a sad headcanon prompt.... ExR that got together way too early for it to be healthy and crashed and burned: headcanons? ^^

omg fun id love to

-so everything starts and ends with tension. their sexual tension doesn't come from the arguments that a lot of people portray them as having. it's a lot of glances. a lot of longing and thinking. grantaire looks and sees the one man who seems capable of anything and enjolras looks and sees the one man who seems capable of nothing. both of them are sort of drawn to each other by that. the only real arguments they have are when enjolras gets tired of having grantaire exist in their space without contributing anything and snaps. to both of their dismay, it never repels grantaire

-it boils down to aggressive hookups that happen over and over again until enjolras breaks and asks grantaire to stay. and so he does.

-to them, relationships are two people against the world. they're the two that matter, the two that are unbreakable. grantaire looks at enjolras and sees spontaneity. enjolras looks at grantaire and sees stability. they depend on each other for what they feel like they're missing and feel void without. they're the couple that moves in together after a month

-nobody thinks it's a good idea, mind you. it sort of turns L'ABC into turmoil because enjolras's friends feel like grantaire is distracting enjolras from their work and grantaire's friends feel like enjolras is keeping grantaire on a short leash. they're both sort of right. they two of them together isolate each other from the other people in their lives because once again, it's them against the world

-a lot of it comes down to sex, too. the two of them have really good sex. you have to owe it to them that they fuck hard. but the issue stems that they feel like it's another reason they have to be together forever. they both think they can't do better than this

-a lot of their issues can be broken down into a few categories: i.) grantaire has absurdly low self-esteem and irrationally believes enjolras is going to leave him at any moment. this leads to a lot of distrust on grantaire's part where he thinks anything odd enjolras does is a sign that he's going to get dumped and he starts acting really hostile towards enj

ii.) both of them struggle with accepting each other as complex beings. grantaire has trouble seeing enjolras as a person and not some all-powerful god. enjolras has trouble accepting grantaire as a person struggling with addiction and depression rather than a melodramatic man who has to be drunk for them to get along just because he likes it. it causes a lot of idealization on both ends that doesn't work when either of them "breaks character"

iii.) they have a dependency on each other, like i said. grantaire needs someone for him to feel wild with and enjolras needs someone that can make him feel like he could be domestic forever. they're parasitic to each other in that regard. enjolras makes grantaire more irrational and unstable and grantaire makes enjolras no longer care about the things that used to matter

-their relationship drains both of them. and relationships shouldnt ever do that

-it ends in flames over a piece of parchment. grantaire comes home one day to see enjolras writing a letter of sorts. he immediately puts it away and when grantaire asks what it was, he simply shrugs and dismisses it as a political paper. this irks grantaire because he feels like enjolras is lying, so he asks him for details. enjolras shifts uncomfortably in his seat and just tells him that it doesnt matter

-but grantaire thinks it matters. grantaire begins to feel hostile again, he begins to get overprotective because enjolras is lying and he doesn't want him to leave because he's so certain that he won't come back. clearly grantaire has done something wrong and enjolras is gonna leave so he must find out what it is he's done. in the dead of night grantaire quietly roots through enjolras's things until he finds the parchment, reading through and finding it to not be about politics at all. it's to a woman, seemingly, by the language enjolras uses

-from the noise, enjolras wakes up and finds grantaire going through his stuff. he gets up and yanks the letter from his hand, although it tears in two. he immediately questions what the fuck is wrong with him

-grantaire shoots back asking why he lied. he asks what mistress enjolras must be hiding that he plans on running off to. enjolras gives him a weird look and snaps back that the letter is to his mother. which doesn't add up- because according to what grantaire has heard him say, enjolras isn't in touch with either of his parents. it's a lie he tells to keep his personal life out of his political life. but grantaire isn't a part of his political life, so why is he still keeping secrets?

-it breaks down into enjolras choosing to not fully open up to grantaire and grantaire not trusting him at all. they shout and shout at each other, calling the other a "self-righteous liar" or a "drunk excuse for a person"

-there's an option to have taken things slow, to give enjolras enough time to feel comfortable showing grantaire his emotional side that cares about his mother and can tell him the truth and for grantaire to understand that enjolras wont act and think the same way he does, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't love him

-they never choose that option, though. it's easier to hate someone than to love one and that's just as addicting. grantaire needs enjolras to hate him so he can hate him back, and enjolras needs grantaire to be miserable so he can distance him from their political plans

-without pacing and growth, they bring out the worst in each other. they let themselves be the worst kind of foils because it's easier than trying again

[kjack89]

Love is Blind (Part Four: The Wedding)

We have finally reached the end of our lovely little reality show. Thanks to everyone who's read and encouraged this nonsense along the way!

E/R, Modern AU, Love is Blind AU (bad reality TV AU for anyone unfamiliar with the source show). Established relationship at this point, but like. Still a speedrun.

Read Part One here. Read Part Two here. Read Part Three here.

First, our couples fell in love in the pods, sight unseen. Then they made their connections physical in Mexico before confronting reality back home. Now, there’s just days left before they’re at their weddings, facing the toughest choice they’ve ever had to make.

Will they commit to spending their life with the person they fell in love with in the pods? Or will they part ways forever?

Is love truly blind?

On this final episode of Love is Blind, we’re about to find out.

Enjolras smoothed a hand down the front of his tux jacket and frowned at his reflection in the mirror before poking his head out of the dressing room curtain. “Are you ready?” he asked, a little impatiently, and not just because the idea of trying on clothes, let alone trying on clothes with a three-person camera crew in tow, was one of his least favorite activities.

The curtain in front of Grantaire’s dressing room twitched. “Give me a moment,” Grantaire said, sounding amused. “You can’t rush perfection.”

Enjolras’s frown deepened as he glanced critically at his reflection one more time. “Yeah, unfortunately, I don’t think this one’s anything close to resembling perfection.”

Grantaire chuckled, and a few moments later, opened his curtain and stepped outside. Enjolras’s mouth went dry as Grantaire adjusted the cuffs of his shirt sleeve. “So?” Grantaire asked, with a grin. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s a good thing we’re getting the so-called first look over with here and now, or else I’m going to be liable to forget my vows,” Enjolras said, drinking in the view with eager eyes.

Grantaire laughed. “Thankfully, there’s really only two words you need to remember,” he teased, before arching an eyebrow. “So are you going to come out and let me see?”

Enjolras made a face. “I’d rather not.”

Grantaire looked bemused. “Dare I ask why?”

“Because I look ridiculous.”

Grantaire raised both eyebrows. “I very highly doubt that,” he said. “You look amazing in absolutely everything. Besides, don’t you think that I should be able to draw my own conclusion on this front?”

Enjolras heaved a sigh before finally stepping out of his dressing room, holding his arms out to the side. “See?” he said, a little sourly.

To his credit, Grantaire didn’t immediately laugh, though judging by the look on his face, he very much wanted to. “You look—”

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” Enjolras warned.

The corners of Grantaire’s mouth twitched. “I think the cumberbund was not a great choice,” he said tactfully.

Enjolras groaned, scrubbing a hand across his face. “Remind me again why we can’t just wear the same damn thing?”

“Because the point is to complement each other, not match each other,” Grantaire said, crossing over to the rack of tuxedos and thumbing through them. “How in God’s name am I the one explaining this to you?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes before saying, “Speaking of God—”

Grantaire glanced up at him. “I am fascinated to see where this goes.”

“Well, I know how you feel about a good segue,” Enjolras said lightly. “Anyway, we haven’t really talked much about religion, and since the wedding ceremony is coming up pretty quickly, I figured we should make sure we’re on the same page.”

Grantaire frowned. “Haven’t we already agreed on a justice of the peace? And getting married in not a church?”

“We have.”

Grantaire gave him a look. “Then what are you really getting at?”

Enjolras sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve been trying to write my vows,” he admitted.

“Ok,” Grantaire said slowly. “And?”

“And I’ve been trying to draw inspiration from a lot of different places, and a lot of vow examples that I’ve been able to find have had a pretty strong vein of Christianity running through them,” Enjolras told him. “And while I know we’ve both discussed that neither of us are really religious, I want to go a step further. With everything happening with Roe, I don’t want any Christian imagery or what have you in our wedding.”

Grantaire’s brow furrowed. “And I certainly wasn’t planning otherwise. I mean, what, you want to opt for a pagan handfasting instead?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far—”

“I would,” Grantaire interrupted. “If that’s what you wanted, anyway.” Enjolras stared at him and Grantaire shrugged, half-smiling. “All I care about is saying I do and making this legally binding. The rest doesn’t matter to me.”

Enjolras felt a warmth spread through his chest, though he tamped it down to point out, with no small amount of amusement, “And yet us wearing matching tuxes is a step too far.”

Grantaire’s smile widened. “Ok, well maybe some of the rest does matter to me, at least a little.” He cocked his head. “But I’m more interested in why you’re bringing this up. I mean, have I somehow given you the impression that I’m going to start quoting the Bible at our gay wedding?”

Enjolras flushed slightly. “No, I guess not,” he mumbled.

“So what is this actually about?” Grantaire pressed. “Because I don’t really think it’s about our vows. Or our wedding.”

“Well it’s tangentially related to our wedding, I guess,” Enjolras hedged.

“Still waiting on that explanation.”

Enjolras sighed, beginning to wish he’d worked his way into this conversation from a different angle. “Ok, so you know how we’re supposed to be having our bachelor parties in a few days?”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “A toast to our last day of freedom before the ol’ heteronormative ball and chain, sure.”

Enjolras wet his lips nervously. “Well, what would you say to not doing that?”

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “I mean, the idea of a day of debauchery and heavy drinking is normally my idea of a good time, so it depends on what you’re proposing as an alternative,” he said slowly. “And what connection it has to Christianity.”

“What connection it has to keeping Christianity out of our private lives,” Enjolras corrected. “And the alternative is probably not something as fun as debauchery and heavy drinking.” He took a deep breath. “There’s a protest that’s been planned regarding the Roe leak, and I thought…”

He trailed off. “And you thought it might be fun?” Grantaire supplied.

“Something like that.”

Grantaire’s expression was unreadable. “So to be clear, do you want to spend what should be our bachelor party working, or protesting as a private citizen?”

Enjolras shrugged. “Does it really make a difference?”

“It does to me,” Grantaire said evenly.

Enjolras sighed. “Fine, Les Amis was asked to participate, but even if they weren’t, I would still want to go.” He knew he sounded defensive, unnecessarily so, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Reproductive freedom is a vitally important issue, not just for cisgender women, and—”

“And you don’t need to lecture me on the subject,” Grantaire said. He was quiet for a long moment before asking, “What if you went to the protest and I still had my bachelor party?”

Enjolras stared at him. “I mean, if that’s – if that’s what you want to do. I’m not going to make you come with me,” he said, though he couldn’t stop his heart from sinking in his chest. “That said, the point of agreeing to do a joint bachelor party is because we wanted to spend our last day together.”

Grantaire’s expression tightened. “Together having fun, not together working.”

Enjolras just shrugged. “Is it bad that going to a protest is my idea of both?”

He was aiming for a joke, but something in what he said seemed to resonate with Grantaire, who brightened. “Not necessarily,” he said. “Are you opposed to me finding a way to make going to a protest also both work and fun?”

Enjolras’s eye narrowed. “Only if your way of doing so involves public intoxication.”

Grantaire barked a laugh. “Surprisingly, no, not what I had in mind. For once.” 

“Then I say go for it,” Enjolras said, crossing to him and kissing him lightly. “As long as we’re together, that’s all that matters.”

Grantaire kissed him back for a long moment before pulling away. “Then I guess I better text Joly and Bossuet and tell them to lose the boas and body glitter, because we’re going to a protest instead of going on an extremely gay bar crawl.”

He didn’t sound as disappointed as Enjolras expected, and Enjolras decided to take it as a small win. “Who says you can’t have boas and body glitter at a protest?” he asked instead.

“Good point,” Grantaire said with a grin. “Now, how about we get back to the business of finding you something to wear to our wedding that doesn’t make you look like you’re attending a prom in 1982?”

Enjolras laughed. “Oh, but I had my eye on this ruffle-front shirt—”

“Absolutely not,” Grantaire said firmly, steering Enjolras back to his dressing room. “I will turn around and walk back up the aisle if I see that shit.”

Enjolras just laughed again as he accepted the tuxes that Grantaire shoved at him. “Honestly, I wouldn’t even blame you.”

— — — — —

“Women’s rights, human rights! Women’s rights, human rights!”

Chants filled the spring air, the bright sunshine a disconcerting backdrop to the masses of people gathering for the protest, many bearing signs. Enjolras couldn’t quite stop his smile, even if it was a little grim; as much as he hated what had necessitated this moment, it warmed his soul to see so many finally engaged.

Now if only the outrage would last.

As if reading his thoughts, Grantaire took his hand and squeezed it. “Think they’ll still be this fired up come November?” he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the crowd. 

“We’ll make sure of it,” Enjolras told him. He caught sight of Combeferre and Courfeyrac conferring with the event organizers and glanced at Grantaire. “I should check in with them. Do you want to—”

Grantaire shook his head. “I’m working too, remember?” he said, hefting his camera in his free hand. “Besides, I should see if I can find Joly and Bossuet.”

Enjolras leaned in and kissed his cheek before letting go of his hand and heading over to Combeferre and Courfeyrac. He shook hands with the protest organizers, introducing himself and offering Les Amis’ help with anything that day or in the future, and the lead organizer thanked him before being pulled away to deal with something else.

Combeferre cleared his throat. “I like your t-shirt,” he said, nodding down at Enjolras’s ‘FUCK YOUR ABORTION BANS’ shirt. “It’s certainly to the point.”

“Yeah, well, I figured why beat around the bush, right?”

Courfeyrac snorted, and Combeferre gave him a withering look. “If you’re even thinking of making a bush joke right now—”

 “So where’s your shadow?” Courfeyrac asked brightly, clearly deciding that changing the subject was the best course of action.

“Grantaire?” Enjolras asked, frowning slightly as the idea of Grantaire as his shadow. “He’s around here somewhere. He’s taking pictures of the protest as a freelance assignment.”

“Good for him,” Courfeyrac said sweetly, “but I was referring to your camera crew.”

“Oh,” Enjolras said, flushing slightly, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. “They, uh, they decided to give us the day off from having our lives taped.”

Combeferre nodded slowly. “Meaning they didn’t want any footage of this protest,” he said, a little shrewdly. “I suppose that way they avoid any concerns about how they’d choose to edit it.”

Enjolras shrugged, scanning the crowd for Grantaire. “I think their official statement is that it would be too difficult for production to get waivers from all the protesters, and, quite frankly, it’s probably better for everyone involved that the folks here aren’t captured on footage that a multinational conglomerate can do with as they please.” He didn’t see Grantaire and so turned back to Combeferre and Courfeyrac, shrugging once again. “They taped a little moment with Grantaire and I before we headed over to sort of explain what we’re doing today, and I’m sure they’ll tape something once we’re home tonight.”

Courfeyrac made a face. “So that they can bookend all their footage of the other couples getting shitfaced and fighting with you two social justice warriors.”

Enjolras snorted. “I mean…”

“At least one social justice warrior, anyway,” Combeferre said, something unreadable in his tone. “Are you sure Grantaire’s up for this?”

Enjolras’s brow furrowed and he searched Combeferre’s expression for a minute before telling him, “Of course. I told him I wasn’t going to make him come today if he didn’t want to, and he was the one who thought of reaching out to some of his editor contacts to see if they wanted anyone to cover the protest.”

Combeferre’s expression didn’t change. “Yeah but photographing a protest is very different from participating in it,” he said evenly. “Or does he plan to stay on the sidelines the whole time?”

“I’m sure he’ll join in,” Enjolras said, defensive without really knowing why. “He just needs to get warmed up to it, that’s all. Now can we please get back to discussing the logistics of this protest?”

Combeferre raised an eyebrow but chose not to say anything more on the topic.

Not that he needed to.

As things got underway and the rally started in full force, Enjolras couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Grantaire’s general lack of enthusiasm for the whole protest.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure what he’d expected. He knew Grantaire well enough to know that the man wasn’t going to wholeheartedly jump into any political cause, at least not without his requisite layers of sarcasm and disbelief. But still, given the importance of the issue at hand, he’d expected…more. And he was beginning to think that Grantaire had no intention of giving anything more.

While the speakers took to the makeshift stage, Enjolras glanced around the crowd again, looking for Grantaire. While he didn’t see him, he did spot Joly and Bossuet. Bossuet, it seemed, had taken Grantaire’s point about boas and body glitter to heart, bedecked in a violently pink feather boa with his entire bald head seemingly encrusted in glitter. 

Next to him, Joly looked considerably more understated, but still waved with enthusiasm when he spotted Enjolras, grabbing Bossuet by the elbow and dragging him over. “Hey!” he said, greeting Enjolras with a hug.

“Hey,” Enjolras said, a little taken aback, and he hastily added, “Joly, Bossuet, meet Combeferre and Courfeyrac. They’re my best friends.”

“So you’re us to Grantaire, but for Enjolras,” Bossuet said, grinning, as he shook Courfeyrac’s hand. “I guess we’ll be seeing you both at the wedding, right?”

Courfeyrac beamed. “Of course,” he said. “We’ll be the ones heckling Enjolras.”

Enjolras scowled. “I think introducing you was a mistake.” He glanced at the growing crowd again before asking Joly, in what he hoped was a casual sort of way, “Did Grantaire find you?”

Joly nodded. “Sure, yeah, I think he’s walking around on the other side of the protest, or at least that’s where we saw him last,” he said. “Of course, knowing his dumb ass, he’s going to try to climb a tree or something stupid just to get a better picture.”

Enjolras’s face fell, just slightly. “He’s not protesting?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Bossuet shook his head. “At least he wasn’t when we saw him last, but you never know,” he said, somewhat bracingly, as if he had accurately judged Enjolras’s feelings on the topic. “Knowing Grantaire, he’ll get swept up in it eventually.”

“Yeah, but when?” Enjolras muttered under his breath.

Joly just shrugged. “When he feels like it,” he said. “Which is generally at the most inopportune time known to mankind.”

Even though Enjolras knew he was joking, he couldn’t find it in himself to laugh. Instead, he glanced at Combeferre, who was watching him with that same unreadable expression from before on his face. “I’m going to do a lap,” he said, jerking his head toward the crowd. “Make sure everything’s good.”

Combeferre nodded and Enjolras started off toward the edges of the crowd, though he didn’t leave quickly enough to miss Joly asking, “Is everything ok with him and Grantaire?”

That was certainly the question of the hour – or at least, whether everything was ok with him was the question. Enjolras doubted highly that Grantaire was wrestling with anything even remotely similar to what he was feeling at the moment.

He skirted the edge of the crowd, keeping his eyes peeled for both Grantaire and for any potential trouble. There was an unsurprisingly large police presence, though certainly not as many as he would expect at, for instance, a Black Lives Matter rally. Granted, the demographics of the crowd probably explained that, since despite the highly intersectional nature of the issue, the crowd was still predominantly white. And nothing would actually threaten the Chicago Police Department’s ever-ballooning funding like cops assaulting white women who took the Metra in from Naperville.

Still, the amount of police put Enjolras on edge, and even more so when he finally spotted Grantaire standing right next to a police officer. Every one of Enjolras’s instincts told him to pull out his phone, start recording, and go demand that the officer release Grantaire from his custody unless he was placing him under arrest.

At least, that was his instinct until Grantaire said something to the cop, who…laughed.

And it was only then that Enjolras realized that Grantaire wasn’t being detained. 

A normal person would probably have been relieved that his fiancé was not being detained by the police, but Enjolras had never been accused of being normal. And besides, Grantaire being detained meant that at very least he had said or done something, anything in support of the cause.

Instead, Enjolras watched with a pit in his stomach as Grantaire clapped the cop on the shoulder before moving to a different vantage point to take more photos.

Enjolras wrenched his eyes away, forcing his attention back to the crowd, even as his stomach worked itself into knots. When the speaker portion of the rally started winding down, Enjolras made his way back to Combeferre and Courfeyrac, trying to school his expression into something neutral.

It evidently didn’t work, as Combeferre caught his eye and frowned. “What happened?” he asked, and Enjolras just shook his head.

“Nothing,” he said shortly.

Combeferre looked like he didn’t believe him, but thankfully, he didn’t press the issue any further. “Well, it’s good thing you’re back,” he said instead. “Some of the advocacy group leaders want to turn this rally into a march once the speeches are done.”

“Let’s do it,” Enjolras said immediately, grateful for something that he could use as a productive outlet for the fury he could feel seeping into his veins. 

“Just one problem,” Courfeyrac said. “We don’t have a permit for a march.”

Combeferre nodded. “And with the amount of police here…” he started, a little uneasily.

But the reminder of the police at the event just riled Enjolras even further. “Fuck it,” he spat. “They can’t stop all of us.”

Combeferre and Courfeyrac exchanged glanced but Enjolras ignored them, instead crossing over to the lead organizer to offer his assistance in getting the crowd ready to march.

If there was one thing he was good at, it was getting a crowd incensed enough for direct action of some ilk.

Even if it was just marching and not firebombing CPD headquarters.

Enjolras joined the swell of the crowd, encouraging people to march, and was gratified to see that they were more receptive than he anticipated. At least some people had some fire in them.

He just couldn’t help but wish that Grantaire was one of them.

The crowd started to move toward the park exit, some starting to spill out onto the road, and Enjolras paused as the exit, keeping a wary eye out for the police. He caught sight of Grantaire keeping pace with the crowd, still taking pictures, still not joining in.

But Grantaire couldn’t keep his interest for long, no matter how much his chest clenched whenever he saw him. Enjolras had bigger problems – mainly, that the police were already trying to corral folks back into the park. “Either return to the park or disperse,” one of the cops shouted through his car’s speaker system, and it was then that Enjolras realized that the cops in the park weren’t the only ones.

He could see lines of additional police in full riot gear approaching the perimeter of the park, as if they were expecting violence.

Or, knowing the police, as if they were planning on creating some violence.

Enjolras quickly pushed to the front of the crowd. “Everyone get back in the park,” he urged, keeping himself between the people at the front and approaching police. “Do not give them an excuse to ruin this.”

“This is a peaceful rally!” one white woman at the front protested, eyes wide as she looked between Enjolras and the cops. “Why are they here?”

Enjolras hoped for a brief moment that this might be her wake-up call. “Because they’re the police,” he said sharply. “They don’t give a damn about ‘peaceful’.”

She looked like she wanted to argue further, but Enjolras didn’t stick around to listen further, mainly because he spotted a group of what looked like early-20s-something white men starting to push back against the police as they closed ranks. “Shit,” he swore under his breath, pushing through the crowd to force his way over to them.

Enjolras was no stranger to antagonizing and even, on occasion, provoking the police, but there was a time and place, and it was certainly not when the police were already looking for a reason to escalate things and, at absolute best, start making arrests. And absolute worst, take things out on the Black and brown women in the crowd especially.

“Hey!” he shouted, doing his best to get between the men and the cops. “Get back in the park.”

“Why should we?” one asked fiercely. “We have just as much right to be here—”

As much as Enjolras recognized something of himself in the younger man, as much as he felt something like pride that there were more people willing to take on the fight, he also knew that one of the most important things he had learned over the years was when to fight, and when to not. “Because this fight isn’t about us,” he said, trying his best to keep his voice calm and even. “And the last thing we want is to give them an excuse.”

For a moment, it looked like he might argue further, but then, grudgingly, the group started moving back into the park. But evidently, not quickly enough for one of the cops, who grabbed one of the guys by the arm. “Hey, get the fuck off me—” the man protested, trying to wrench his arm out of the cop’s grip.

“You can let him go,” Enjolras said, years of deescalation training keeping him calm when every instinct in his body told him to do something immensely stupid, like punch the sneering cop directly in the face. “He’s not resisting—”

Without warning, a different cop grabbed Enjolras’s arm, twisting it behind his back. “Just like you’re not resisting, pretty boy?” he growled in Enjolras’s ear.

Despite the situation, Enjolras couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Pretty boy?” he asked, incredulous. “Are you serious—”

He should have realized that mocking an office was not the wisest choice, especially in the position he was in, but he still hadn’t expected the office to shove him face-first down onto the ground, his knee planted firmly in the middle of Enjolras’s back. “You wanna try that again?” the cop asked, and he had the audacity to actually smirk at him.

Enjolras gritted his teeth, only just managing to hold himself back from trying to buck the officer off of him, knowing that it would only make things worse. “You know, I really thought this was gonna be a boring day,” the cop told him, “but you just made it a lot more interesting.”

“Hey!” someone shouted, and Enjolras felt the pressure on his back ease up, just a little. “Smile for the camera, Officer.”

Enjolras turned his head to see Grantaire, holding his press pass up in one hand, his camera in the other. “Oh, yeah,” Grantaire said, with a grim sort of smile. “This is for sure going to viral on Twitter.”

The cop grumbled something but stood up, allowing Enjolras to scramble to his feet. Grantaire took a few more pictures of the cop before grabbing Enjolras by the arm. “Thank you for your service,” he said sarcastically, yanking Enjolras along with him as they quickly headed back into the park.

When they were finally clear of the cops, their pace slowed down and Grantaire finally let go of Enjolras’s arm. “Are you ok?” he asked quietly.

Enjolras couldn’t quite seem to meet Grantaire’s eyes. “Did he scratch up my face?” he asked roughly. “I wouldn’t want to look bad for the pictures tomorrow.”

Grantaire reached out, brushing his fingertips across Enjolras’s cheek. “Just a little red,” he said quietly. “No lasting damage.”

Enjolras let out a shaky breath. “Yeah,” he said. “No lasting damage.”

Grantaire searched Enjolras’s expression for a moment. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m fine.” Enjolras said it harsher than he perhaps intended to, and Grantaire’s hand fell back to his side. 

“Right,” Grantaire said. “Well, should we, uh…”

He trailed off and Enjolras shook his head. “No, uh, you should head home,” he said. “I need to check in with Combeferre and Courfeyrac.”

“You don’t want me to wait for you?”

Enjolras shook his head again. “No,” he said. “I think you’ve done enough.” He didn’t wait for Grantaire to say anything else, walking away and leaving him standing there, staring after him.

— — — — —

Enjolras wasn’t surprised when he walked through the door later that afternoon to find Grantaire sitting on the couch, waiting for him. He had a glass of whiskey in front of him, but it didn’t look like he had touched it. “Hey,” Enjolras said.

“Hey,” Grantaire echoed, his tone unreadable. “Did you eat anything?” Enjolras nodded and Grantaire picked up the glass of whiskey and took a sip before saying tonelessly, “Good, because I already canceled our dinner reservation.”

Enjolras winced. He had forgotten that Grantaire had planned a dinner for them in lieu of their previously planned bachelor party. “Where’s, uh, where’s the camera crew?” he asked instead. “I figured they’d be begging for some footage.”

Grantaire shook his head. “I sent them away,” he said. “I didn’t really think anyone else needed to be a part of this.”

“Dare I ask what this is?” Enjolras asked cautiously, sitting down across from him. 

Grantaire met his eyes evenly. “You tell me,” he said. “Because I thought everything was fine, and then when the protest went to hell…” He trailed off. “You could barely look at me. You can still barely look at me.” Enjolras didn’t bother trying to deny it. “So something happened, and I think we should talk about it. Seeing as how we’re getting married tomorrow.” He paused. “If we’re still getting married tomorrow.”

Enjolras sighed. “I’m sorry for leaving like that,” he said, a little grudgingly. “Today just…” He sighed again. “Today wasn’t what I expected.”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “In what way?”

Enjolras wet his lips, trying to find the right words to begin. In the end, he decided to just tell the truth, no matter how blunt it may be. “You were talking to the cop.”

“What?”

Grantaire sounded confused, and Enjolras swallowed. “I saw you,” he said, trying and failing to control the anger he could feel welling in his chest. “Just casually chatting to the pigs like you were old friends.”

“I was introducing myself,” Grantaire said slowly, staring at Enjolras, “which is generally a good idea if you’re a member of the press who doesn’t want to get arrested for covering a protest.”

Enjolras shook his head. “I didn’t realize introducing yourself normally invited laughter,” he said sourly.

For a moment, it looked like Grantaire was going to make one of his usual clever retorts, but then he paused, tilting his head slightly. “What is this actually about?”

“I’m pretty sure—”

“Because you’re talking as if you caught me flirting with another man,” Grantaire continued, as if Enjolras hadn’t tried to interrupt him, :and not having a polite conversation with someone.”

“Not just someone!” Enjolras burst. “A fucking cop! You spent more time at an abortion rights rally chatting with the police than you did talking to the actual protesters.”

Grantaire’s expression tightened. “I assure you, I didn’t.”

Enjolras’s lip curled. “Well it sure looked like it. And maybe—”

“Maybe what?” Grantaire asked quietly.

“Are you actually pro-choice?” Enjolras asked sharply.

‘

Grantaire recoiled. “Excuse me?

“You told me you were when we met in the pods, but it occurs to me you may have been telling me what I wanted to hear,” Enjolras said. “So are you?”

“Of course I am,” Grantaire said, his voice low. “Pro-choice, pro-abortion, pro-people with uteruses making their own damn health decisions, however you would prefer I word it.”

“And are you pro-police?”

“Am I—” Grantaire broke off, exasperated. “Enjolras, when I discovered my niece was watching Paw Patrol, I taught her to say ACAB every time Chase the fucking police dog comes on screen!”

Enjolras crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You could have fooled me.”

Grantaire took a deep breath, his face tight. “Do you want to know why the cop was laughing?” he asked abruptly. “I introduced myself, said what publication I was there taking pictures for. And then I asked about the police presence because it seemed a little high for simple crowd control, almost like they were there hoping for a fight.” His expression twisted. “Bit of a change of pace from beating Black and brown teenagers to assaulting predominantly white women, which I suppose was probably part of the appeal.” He scrubbed a hand across his face before continuing, “Anyway, the cop I was talking to made a comment that his stepdaughter was there in the crowd. And I mentioned that it would probably be a little bit awkward if he ended up having to arrest her. And he laughed.”

His voice shook, and Enjolras swallowed and looked away. “He laughed, and he told me it wouldn’t be the first time. This is a man who has arrested his own family for peacefully protesting, and found it funny.” Grantaire shook his head. “You can’t reform that.”

“Then why the hell weren’t you protesting?” Enjolras demanded.

“Because I was doing my job,” Grantaire snapped. “And honestly, I don’t understand why you’re this surprised.”

Enjolras blinked, taken aback by that, and it took him a moment to respond. “I’m not surprised,” he said finally. “I guess I’m just disappointed. I thought, when the time came—”

“What, I was going to become an entirely different person?” Grantaire asked.

Enjolras shook his head and looked away. “I just thought you might actually find it in yourself to care,” he said, a little bitterly.

“I do care,” Grantaire said, his voice low. “And I sure as shit cared enough to stop you from getting arrested or worse.”

Enjolras looked back at him, a muscle working in his jaw. “That’s not good enough.”

Grantaire didn’t look away. “Then maybe I’m not good enough,” he said, lifting his chin with something like defiance.

“I didn’t say that,” Enjolras said tiredly.

“You didn’t have to,” Grantaire told him. “I’ve been honest about who I am from the beginning. And you’re the one who has to decide if that’s good enough for you.”

He stood, and for the first time Enjolras noticed that there was a duffel bag next to him on the couch. His heart dropped. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“Out,” Grantaire said shortly, picking up the duffel bag. “I’m spending the night at my apartment. My actual apartment.”

“You can’t just leave—”

“When things get tough,” Grantaire finished for him. “I know that. But this isn’t about me.” Enjolras glanced up at him, and Grantaire met his eyes evenly. “This is about you, and if you can spend the rest of your life with someone who is never going to be the person you secretly want them to be. And I figure that’s a decision best made alone.”

Enjolras’s chest felt tight. “Grantaire—”

But Grantaire just shook his head, shouldering the duffle bag and brushing past Enjolras toward the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He was almost out the door when Enjolras told him, a little desperately, “I still love you.”

Grantaire paused, but didn’t turn back. “I know. And I love you too. But you have to decide if that’s enough.”

Then he left, closing the door behind him.

And for the first time in weeks, Enjolras was alone.

His first instinct was to rage, or to throw something. He didn’t do either of those, instead crossing over to pick up the half-drunk glass of whiskey Grantaire had left on the coffee table and picking it up, draining it up in a single gulp.

It burned and he choked, coughing against the fire in his throat. But it didn’t hurt as badly as the pain in his chest, the pain at the realization that for the first time in weeks, in addition to being alone, he had no idea if he was going to stand in front of the justice of the peace and say yes.

Grantaire was right – he had to decide if it was enough, if Grantaire was enough.

He had told Grantaire before that he didn’t mind his cynicism, that he welcomed it, even, as a reminder of everything he was working for. But now, when faced with the reality of it…

He didn’t know if could live with it. If he could wake up every day next to a man who just didn’t want to try to make the world better.

And if he was being honest, he had hoped that he would change Grantaire. Maybe that was a selfish thing to say, or egotistical, but maybe he had thought spending time with him, loving him, would rub off on Grantaire. That all of their time spent together might mean something. 

Because if Enjolras couldn’t even convince his fiancé, where the hell did he get off thinking he could convince anyone else?

And wasn’t that really the crux of why he was feeling this way? Because after the day they’d had, he felt like seeing Grantaire every day for the rest of his life would be a daily reminder of how he had failed, was continuing to fail.

Enjolras didn’t know if he could take it.

But he also didn’t know if he could go the rest of his life without waking up next to Grantaire every day. He didn’t know if he could say no when asked if he took Grantaire to be his husband.

Because he loved him. And he just didn’t know if that was enough.

He sighed and ran a tired hand across his face, glancing up at the clock. It was too early for bed, but he had a feeling he was going to be lying in bed staring up at the ceiling for a few hours anyway. He bent to pick up the empty glass and caught sight of Grantaire’s sketchbook, where it must have fallen out of Grantaire’s bag. He sighed and went to pick it up, glancing automatically at the sketch it was opened to.

It was one he hadn’t seen before, and he realized that it was him, from today, his arms outstretched, shouting something. It was a remarkably good likeness of what Enjolras imagined he must have looked like when he tried to head off the police. ‘Apollo’s Sacrifice’, Grantaire had scrawled in the corner, and Enjolras half-smiled.

He couldn’t imagine Grantaire sketching something like this before they’d met.

As unsure as Enjolras was, as much as the decision he had to make felt absolutely impossible, he had this to hold onto. An actual tangible, physical reminder that no matter what Grantaire had said, what he’d done or, more accurately, not done, he still saw Enjolras this way. 

And maybe, just maybe, that could be enough.

Maybe he had been right all along. Maybe Grantaire didn’t have to be a sign of failure. Maybe he could be a bellwether of hope.

If Enjolras could let him, at least.

— — — — —

The car ride down to the Pullman National Monument was a long one early the next morning, but Enjolras didn’t mind it. It gave him more time to think, and to figure out what he was going to say to Grantaire.

He had dressed at home, since there wasn’t really a dressing area at the venue, but that also meant there wasn’t really anything to do once they arrived.

And while he was happy to see Combeferre and Courfeyrac and the rest of his friends, there was really only one person he wanted to see or talk to.

He knocked on the door of the office Grantaire was holed up in, holding his breath until he head Grantaire call, “Come in.”

Enjolras poked his head in. “Are you decent?”

“Would it stop you if I wasn’t?” Grantaire asked, giving him a slightly tired smile.

“Probably not,” Enjolras said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to show up today.”

Grantaire gave him a look. “I could say the same to you.”

Enjolras sighed. “I know I deserve that,” he said. “But I did hope that you’d know me enough to trust that I would.”

“I think we both know each other pretty well at this point,” Grantaire said quietly. They were both quiet for a long moment before Grantaire sighed. “I’m not going to ask what you’ve decided,” he said, and Enjolras looked sharply at him. “I’ll find out with everyone else in short order. And I’m not going to try to change your mind.”

“You don’t want to talk about it?” Enjolras asked, a little surprised.

Grantaire shook his head. “No,” he said. “We both know what our differences are, and there’s nothing I can say that’ll change that.” He reached out and Enjolras stepped over to him, taking his hand and squeezing it. “We do have some things we agree on.”

Enjolras nodded. “We do.”

“For instance, I think that you and I can agree that the arc of the moral universe is long but it bends towards justice.”

Enjolras laughed lightly. “It does tend to be hard to disagree with Dr. King.”

But Grantaire didn’t laugh, searching his face for a long moment before saying, almost hesitantly, “But I think where we differ is that I think the arc is longer than you do. And I’m not convinced that some of the things you do have any impact on its bend.”

Enjolras sucked in a breath. “Well that’s…”

“Harsh?” Grantaire supplied.

“Maybe,” Enjolras said. “But it’s honest, and I appreciate honesty.”

“I have always tried to be honest with you, Enjolras,” Grantaire said quietly. “Even if it means that we’re all dressed up with nowhere to go, so to speak.”

Enjolras shook his head slowly. “I don’t know if I’m ready to say that.”

Grantaire lifted their hands to his mouth, kissing Enjolras’s knuckles. “Well, you’re going to have to make your mind up soon.”

“And you don’t?”

“Enjolras, my mind was made up a long time ago,” Grantaire told him gently. “Since that very first day in the pods. I love you. And for me, that’s enough. But I know that may not be enough for you. And I just want you know—”

“Grantaire—”

Grantaire shook his head. “I just want you to know that even if it’s not enough for you, the time we’ve spent together has been the best time of my life. You may not be able to see it, but you have made me a better person. Or at least, you’ve made me want to be a better person.” He squeezed Enjolras’s hand. “You’ve sure as hell made me want more than just to know the answer to top, bottom or vers.”

Despite himself, despite everything, Enjolras laughed. “Though you have to admit, we did have a really good time establishing the answer to that question.”

Grantaire grinned. “We sure did.”

Enjolras leaned in and kissed him. “I love you, too.”

“I know,” Grantaire said, letting go of his hand. “And I’ll see you at the altar.”

It was a dismissal if ever Enjolras had heard one, and he took a few steps back. “Is it still called an altar if it’s in front of a justice of the peace?”

Grantaire rolled his eyes affectionately. “Well, you’re the one who referred to the Pullman National Monument as a temple to the contributions of African Americans to the American labor movement when you picked the Clock Tower as the venue, so…”

Enjolras smiled. “Fair enough.”

He started towards the door, though he paused when Grantaire asked, something almost desperate in his voice, “Do you know what you’re going to say?”

Enjolras didn’t turn back around, just squaring his shoulders as he told Grantaire, “Yeah. I think I do.”

— — — — —

The venue was decorated beautifully, and there were so many familiar faces in the crowd, but Enjolras didn’t have eyes for any of them. The only person he saw was Grantaire, waiting for him.

The justice of the peace gave some introductory speech, but Enjolras didn’t hear a word of it. He only started listening when he heard his name. “Enjolras, the time has come to answer the question: is love blind, and do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

He swallowed, and looked in Grantaire’s eyes. “I want to answer the second question first.”

Grantaire blanched. “Oh fuck,” he whispered.

“Because I do,” Enjolras continued. “I absolutely, one hundred percent do take him to be my husband. But I can only take him to be my husband because the answer to the first question is no.”

He could hear the crowd murmur something, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t saying this for them. He wasn’t even really saying this for Grantaire.

He was saying this for himself.

“Love is not blind,” he said, “because I didn’t really fall in love with you until I got to see the whole you, imperfections, idiosyncrasies, and all. What this experiment has taught me is that love can’t survive if we pretend it’s blind to those things or if we ignore those things. It’s only by acknowledging them and growing from them and with them that our love has grown and strengthened and gotten us here today.” Grantaire was beaming at him, and Enjolras smiled as well. “So I may have picked you blind, but I am choosing you today and everyday because I have seen you for who you truly are and I love you for that. So yes, Grantaire, I take you to be my husband, and I will fight every day for you, and for us.”

Grantaire took a deep, shaky breath as the justice of the peace turned to him. “Grantaire, it’s time for you to answer the same questions: is love blind, and do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

For a moment, it looked like Grantaire was just going to blurt yes, but then he wet his lips, and he took Enjolras’s hands and squeezed them. “To everything there is a season,” he recited, “and a time to every purpose, under Heaven – a time to gain, a time to lose, a—”

Enjolras scowled. “I thought we agreed, no religion,” he hissed, not caring that he was interrupting Grantaire’s wedding vows.

Grantaire just smirked. “And I’m quoting the Byrds quoting Pete Seeger.”

“Who adapted the song from Ecclesiastes!”

Grantaire laughed, a bright sound that filled Enjolras with warmth. “And see, this is why I love us,” he said. “Because we know that there is a time for us to fight, even if it’s in front of a justice of the peace and all of our friends and however many millions of people are watching us at home. And we also know that there is a time for us to make up, and we don’t let our fights ruin we have. Because before I met you, I thought that I would never find the kind of love that made people lose their minds and fight wars—”

Enjolras rolled his eyes, even though he was crying, just a little. “And now you’re misquoting Taylor Swift.”

Thankfully, Grantaire ignored him. “But I did. I found you. So it just wasn’t the right time before, but it is now. It’s our time, and I am so lucky that I get to spend it with you.” He smiled that crooked smile that Enjolras had fallen in love with before he had ever even seen it. “I know that we’re supposed to be answering the question ‘Is love blind’, but I guess what I’m trying to say is I don’t care. Because blind or otherwise, I found you and I love you and against all odds known to man, you love me, too. So yes, I absolutely, unequivocally do.”

Enjolras didn’t wait for the justice of the peace to pronounce them, surging forward to kiss Grantaire, the first kiss that would begin the rest of their lives together. Nothing else mattered, not the reality tv show that had somehow brought them together, or the thousand and one things that would always threaten to tear them apart.

Love was not blind, and Enjolras’s sight had never been clearer.

And he was going to spend every single day with the love of his life.

“I love you,” he told Grantaire, when they finally broke apart. “I love you.”

“I know,” Grantaire said, grinning. “I love you, too.”

“And it’s enough,” Enjolras said, his voice low, for only Grantaire to hear. “You’re enough.”

Grantaire kissed him once more. “I’m just glad you finally saw it.”

“Finally saw you,” Enjolras corrected. “I finally see you, and I love you. All of you. Even the parts I may not always like very much.”

“Well,” Grantaire said, taking his hand and lacing their fingers together, “like I said when we first talked, you strike me as someone who enjoys a challenge.”

Enjolras laughed, pulling Grantaire to him and kissing his temple. “I absolutely do.”

[everyonewasabird]

Brickclub 4.12.2 “Preliminary Gaieties” part 3

So I hereby take back everything I said in Grantaire’s defense yesterday, he really is just being super weird and gross about the idea of a “virtuous” working class woman becoming a banker’s mistress.

The one good side is I’m not entirely sure Floréal is real; she’s the symbol, as @fremedon​ pointed out, of the Revolution of 1830, which did indeed fall into bed with bankers. Which is a sequence of events Grantaire has a LOT more reason to be upset about than some random neighbor of his falling into bed with a banker, but, unfortunately, the latter is the direction he took it in. It does at least explain why the fuck he felt the need to tell that story, but it’s still couched in blatant misogyny.

Sigh. As everyone has been pointing out to me, I’m having the full Grantaire experience; you get your hopes up for a moment, and then he disappoints you.

Anyway, he’s trying to bring up the July Revolution in order to dissuade (without quite saying it) his friends from joining this one. When that fails, he goes into the anti-revolution rant I described yesterday. He can’t dissuade them from going and he knows it, but he’s afraid they’re going to die isn’t able to let that go.

He manages to work some racism and orientalism into his rant along with the misogyny, and then, just when he reaches the peak of infuriating, he blurts out one of the most beautiful lines in the whole damn book:

“And it appears that they're going to fight, these idiots, to get their heads broken, to massacre one another, in midsum­mer, in the verdant month of June, when they might go off with some creature on their arm, to inhale in the fields the huge cup of tea of the new mown hay.”

Which is the core of what’s going on with him. He’s afraid everyone he loves is about to die, and finally, at the end of the rant, he says it.

Joly, sweet, sweet Joly, takes all this and says (leaving out his cold) “Speaking of Revolution, it appears that Marius is decidedly amorous.”

Which, as @fremedon​ points out, is a blatant subject change, but also a way of saying: That’s not what a revolution is at all. A revolution is a thing done for love.

Grantaire says of Marius:

“I can imagine how it is. Ecstasies where they forget to kiss. Chaste on earth, but coupling in the infinite. They are souls that have senses. They sleep together in the stars.”

Which is oddly perfectly accurate, probably because it’s also true of Grantaire, much as he tries to hide it by being a misogynist prick about every woman he can think of, even the ones who are metaphors. (I left out describing the part where he compared revolutions to yeast infections; you’re welcome.)

But, also, literally as Grantaire is saying this, Marius is wandering Paris with two pistols in his pocket, looking forward to the moment when he sees Cosette tonight and then---oblivion forever, which might or might not involve shooting her and then himself. I don’t think that outcome was ever certain; I think it was always a coin flip one way or the other.

Also: a coin flip is Too Fucking Close.

Grantaire is far, far and away not the person behaving worst towards women right now.

And this is also all a reminder that we’re to read the relationships between men and highly symbolic women as saying something about the fate of Revolutions. Fantine was the abandoned French Revolution/republic after the rise of Napoleon; Cosette is the republic abandoned during the Bourbon Restoration after Napoleon fell and the promise of the true and lasting revolution still to come; Eponine is, perhaps, the brief and abortive Revolution of 1848, heavily exploited by Thenardier/NIII, and if Hugo via Marius is expressing any guilt about how he treated her: Good.

All that may be not quite right, but the point is, a bonapartist nearly murders Cosette-the-Revolution, and only by joining the republicans does he become (possibly) fit to be a partner to her. Cosette is the one of our revolutions that a sincere bourgeois young man finally chooses to marry--“legitimizing” her, I guess. The hope of Marius and Cosette’s future at the end of this book is Hugo’s hope that the bourgeoisie he’s writing this book to convince--the bourgeoisie that Grantaire also represents--will finally take a revolution seriously and treat it right.

It’s maybe worth noting that at end the of this book Marius is still neither taking Cosette seriously nor treating her right.

And fuck, I feel so goddamned weird about the class issues inherent in all this? ALL these revolutions (the actual ones, not Hugo’s weirdly symbolic women) were powered by the work of the working class, and that only became more and more starkly true as the century went on. Hugo gives all these women working class backgrounds (revolution comes from “the people” after all), but their lovers and the arbiters of their fates are always bourgeois men. Working class men don’t appear in this metaphor--nor do all the women, particularly working class women, who weren’t symbols of these revolutions, they fucking fought in them.

So, two questions:

1) what the hell is Valjean in this metaphor?

2) can I take the historical uselessness of the bourgeoisie in all future revolutions as a sign that Marius and Cosette don’t in fact work out as a couple and Cosette goes on to do something way more interesting with her life?