#FERRE HAVE I TOLD YOU HOW MUCH I ADORE THEM AND EVERYTHING THEY ARE
Note
🍸 + not a question, but rather please take an equally drunk patrick stumbling over to his dear friend to ask him to hold something for him....it's patrick's hand. that and patrick will also be kissing his dear friend on the cheek once they're holding hands 😊
@ofgentleresolve ♚ from x.
♔ ———–
Once again he’s sitting on the floor, his back pressed to the couch and his hand still holding the neck of a half-empty bottle of Soju. It almost feels like déjà vu, akin to that day where he was sitting right on this spot, waiting for Patrick to come back from the bathroom. The difference is that this time, his dear friend is not the only one drenched in tipsiness but he, too, is drunk to the point of feeling a bit of dizziness swirling in his head.
How did he manage to get like this? Well, the conversation kept flowing and he never noticed the drinks continued to be poured down the glass until part of his speech became a little slurred. Then again, not noticing has become something common when it comes to spending time with his best friend --- Hyuk forgets everything else but the fact that Patrick is there, with him. Why would he focus in the quantity of distilled spirit, when he rather remember the number of times Patrick laughed?
So now he’s here, under the roof of a familiar place, away from the table and stuck to the ground. His eyes close for a second, free hand pressed to his forehead as something similar to a grumble escapes his alcohol-stained lips. One eye opens when he starts to hear the sound of something hitting another something, head tilting to find Patrick clumsily walking and a bag with art supplies (that Hyuk bought recently) toppling over. He thinks he hears his dear friend apologizing (though he doesn’t know if the apology is aimed toward him or the bag); palm moving to be waved in dismissal.
“Leave it there, I’ll....I’ll pick--pick it up ‘morrow.”
Even in this hazy state, he doesn’t want Patrick to make any unnecessary efforts. Besides, what if he tries to pick up the brushes which rolled out of the bag and ends up hitting his head against something? No, no; it’s best like this.
“It’s fine. Could...you...come sit down, here, here---”
And he pats the space next to him; leaving the bottle of Soju somewhere away from his grasp so both of his hands can lazily land on his lap. Seconds later and he’s hearing more stumbling; torpid sight following Patrick’s silhouette making it to where he is. The signs of his dear friend being inebriated are present: red-flushed cheeks, rolled up sleeves; dopey (but vastly endearing) grin...and words that Hyuk can’t fully understand at first, but that must be because the detective is also under the influence.
“What? Y’want me...to hold somethin’?”
He repeats in the shape of a question, Patrick’s sluggish nod confirming Hyuk’s ears didn’t fully fail him. The detective’s hand stretches out, palm up and ready to receive anything his best friend wants him to hold. He doesn’t even hesitate, just accepts his request without even asking him what, exactly, wishes for him to temporarily have.
A plop is heard and the warmth of his friend is felt, meaning that he’s finally sitting nearby. Soon enough, weight is added to Hyuk’s waiting hand; head turning to see what it is. He blinks and frowns. That’s...Patrick’s hand, and he doesn’t feel an item or anything between their hands now clasped together.
Wait.
Wait.
It takes him longer to connect the dots when drunk.
Curse him for being a lightweight.
“This is what y’wanted me to ‘old?”
And he lifts their intertwined hands --- funnily enough, Hyuk doesn’t let go. Not even for a second. A vague nod comes from his friend, along with the sudden planting of a kiss on Hyuk’s cheek. It’s not long enough before pink begins to bloom on his skin, along with a muzzy smile. Does this mean...Patrick is also prone to flirt when drunk? That’s something Hyuk didn’t know about...not like this, at least; a brand new door unlocked due to the stages they’re moving through.
Because, at this point, it’d be insanely silly to say they’re just friends, right?
They can deny it all they want, but their hearts would challenge them, wouldn’t they?
Hyuk’s smile widens. He likes this. Likes that he’s getting to know more about another side of Patrick, likes that these lines and actions are aimed to him; likes that he gets to have this moment with his best friend --- likes him, Patrick, more than words can express.
“Okay. I’m taking good care of it.”
He tells Patrick, looking at him and that kind face which tends to send odd sensations (they’re called butterflies, but he’s too rusty to recognize that) to his stomach.
Eyes dance over dear friend’s features; drunken stupor adding a boldness to let his sight freeze on the shape of his best friend’s lips. There they are again, the thoughts, the what if’s, the undisclosed wishes. But instead of letting them win whilst drunk, Hyuk ends up allowing his head to fall on Patrick’s shoulder; temple comfortably pressed there.
His thumb, it begins to draw soft circles on Patrick’s hand; eyes dropping to catch the view of their hands holding each other. It does feel like déjà vu.
Except, except.
There is no thoughts of ‘I should let go’.
No, in fact, he squeezes his dear friend’s hand.
In fact, he decides to twist their arms a little so Patrick’s fist is facing him.
And when this happens, he brings the professor’s knuckles to his lips and kisses them.
Presses a hearty kiss there, between bones.
“I’m taking good care of it.”
He repeats, his eyes slowly closing; sleepiness somehow kicking in. It’s this peace, he knows. The peace he feels when Patrick’s near --- he’s the one who calms his raging waters; the sea that constantly threatens to lift high waves.
“Good care...of...you. I promise.”
———– ♔
#ofgentleresolve#♔ || interaction (patrick).#♔ || verse three.#♔ || the puzzle of our friendship is the most comforting (patrick).#EXCUSE ME AS I WEEP OVER THESE TWO OMGIWUEDHKASHIWEUDHAKSHDUWEHD#I FINALLY FOUND THE ENERGY AND TIME TO WRITE IF ONLY FOR A FEW MINUTES AND I COULDN'T HELP BUT JUMP ON THIS IN A HEARTBEAT#I'M NOT EVEN QUEUEING THIS I'M JUST GONNA POST IT PLEASE#FERRE HAVE I TOLD YOU HOW MUCH I ADORE THEM AND EVERYTHING THEY ARE#HAVE I TOLD YOU HOW MUCH I ADORE YOU AND HOW THANKFUL I AM OF ALL THE DYNAMICS WE HAVE TOGETHER#HAVE I TOLD YOU!!!!!! HOW I'M CRYIN' AND SOBBIN' AND IWUEHDKASHDIWUHED#oK SORRY I'M JUST A MESS WIUEHKASDHUWIEDHIWEHD#LOOK AT PATRICK BEING SMOOTH EVEN WHEN BEING DRUNK#I also remember that you told me that Patrick is a little bit...flirtatious? When he's tipsy/drunk? So I mentioned that in my reply#I HOPE IT'S OKAY#AND I HOPE??? EVERYTHING I WROTE IS OKAY BUT IF YOU'D LIKE ME TO CHANGE ANYTHING PLS LET ME KNOW#Look at my son --- is it obvious he's all heart eyes over his best friend --- LMAO WIEUDHASJDHWIUEDH#I HOPE YOU'RE DOING WELL FERRE AND THAT!! EVERYTHING'S GOING WELL ON YOUR TRIP <3#PLS TAKE CARE AND HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY ;W;
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The wolf and the princess – Part 12 - A whole new world
Summary: A princess and a wolf meet under difficult circumstances. Can they give each other shelter in a cold world?
A/N: prompt/idea by @gypsyjucar: Ulf Johnsen (Dean Winchester) is the leader of his land with the help of his brother. On a trip to Dean gets captured by the king's guards, the princess, was just walking along the castle when she hears her father and guards talking about a barbarian in the cells and this is where their journey begins...
Pairing: Viking!Dean /Ulfr or Wolf) x Princess!Reader, Viking!Sam (Frode) x Shield-Maiden!Ruby
Characters: Ivar (Bobby Singer), OFC’s
Warnings: angst, fluff, bad use of Norse language, light smut, unprotected sex, gentle sex, cock warming, comforting, nakedness
The wolf and the princess Masterlist
Day 25
14 days on a ship, on the sea, is more than you can bear. Dean said it will take a few more days to reach your new homeland, depending on the weather, wind and how much strength his men have left.
“Hversu ferr? (How are you?)” Dean whispers against your ear. He’s holding your waist in a tight grip, determined to press another high out of your spent body. “Do you want to make all those beautiful noises for me again, my love?”
“Yes…oh…my king.” Your body pressed to Dean’s; skin sweat-slicked, breathing more erratic than anything else you rock your hips to the rhythm Dean dictates.
It’s wild, almost animalistic to you that Dean is taking you from behind, but you must admit, you can feel him even deeper inside of you. “You’re so beautiful and wild, my flower…”
“Flower…” Whimpers leave your lips when Dean wraps his arms around your body while his thrusts become more demanding. Words in his mother tongue leave his lips and you know; your king is close to giving you his seed again.
“My queen, I love you…” His hips snap upward, and you cry out, grasping for the hands around your body. Your nails bite into his flesh and you throw your head back, leaning it against his shoulder when the pleasure fills your senses.
“My king, my wild warrior…oh—wolf…” Dean laughs behind you, loving the way you curse his name or even forbidden words when you let everything else go and just cum for him.
His arms tighten around you, he snaps his hips one, two more times against your butt before his seed fills your womb, in the hope you will give him an heir soon.
“I love you…Dean…” Your body slumps against Dean’s. You laugh, pant, and moan as he just cradles you in his arms. “That was…”
Shy again you hide your face in the palms of your hands. “A sin, our priest would say but…I liked it…a lot, Ulfr. The nuns and our priest always said we shall not enjoy lying with a man but my mother, she said…”
“She said something else?” Dean whispers against your ear. He’s nuzzling your cheek, still not letting go of you. “What did she say?”
“The queen, my mother said that your kind, and hers are different. That you would want me to enjoy our union. That the Viking’s adore their women and that no other men would dare to touch a Viking’s wife.”
“That’s true, my love. No one would dare to touch you, Y/N. Our bond, means you are untouchable, not only as you are the wife of a king.” Dean carefully helps you lie down, but he doesn’t pull out.
You got to know he has a thing for not parting your bodies too soon. Dean loves to hold you, to caress your body with his hands, lips, and teeth after you united.
“Can I ask you why you…you know…” Hiding your face into the blanket you giggle. Little snorts leave your lips and Dean, well your husband laughs with you. “Why do you like to stay inside of me?”
“I hate parting from you in any way.” He’s nibbling at your neck, smirking as you move your hand behind your head to grasp for Dean’s hair. “I love uniting with you, love the way this sweet girl I call my wife can turn into a wild wolf…”
“Ulfr…” Gasping you nod eagerly, loving he called you wolf. “I am a wolf too. That’s…”
A deep dreamily sigh leaves your lips and you feel like the young girl who met your wild husband all those years ago.
“Two more days, my love. Wind and fate are on our side.” Dean has one arm slung around your waist; holds you close to his warm body.
“How is your homeland? Is the land rough, wild, and beautiful as you?” A deep laugh behind you and your husband makes Dean yells something in Norse.
He seems to be pissed and for the first time, you got a glimpse of the wild warrior he is.
“What did he say?”
“He laughed as you called me beautiful.” His deep voice rumbles, through the night when Dean turns around to yell something at the man. “I told him you can call me anything you want to.”
Reaching out for his face you gently slide one hand over his cheek. “You are beautiful, Dean. I love your eyes. When you smile, it reaches those mysterious orbs and it makes my heart…” Shyly glancing up at Dean you don’t know how to describe how he makes you feel.
“I love your smile too, my love. I promise you will love your new home and my people. You already won Ruby’s heart. She never talked to an outsider before. My people, they didn’t make it easy for her.”
Your breath hitches in your throat hearing Ruby had to fight harder than any other shield-maiden to become one of the brave female warriors.
“She’s amazing. Strong. Beautiful. Brave. I wish that one day, I’ll be able to compare with her.”
“Y/N, my princess. You don’t have to compare with Ruby.” Dean wraps his arms around you, holds you in a tight embrace and you rest your head against his chest, just letting his scent surround you.
“You are smart, beautiful, and kind. Your bravery is nothing I could ever compare with, my love. You are the reason that I am a free man.
It was you freeing a man you barely knew or rather couldn’t remember at first. I was a wild beast and you; you were the goddess taking my hand to lead me toward my fate…”
His words let your heart swell with pride, and you wrap your arms around his waist, holding Dean as tight as he holds you.
“I can’t compare with your bravery, my king but thank you. I love how you see me. No one, except for my mother and the two men following me into our new homeland was kind to me.”
“From now on, my love no one will ever dare to be unkind to you. A Viking's wife is a queen to him, a goddess. You are more than a goddess to me; you are my fortune.”
“Fortune…” Whispering the word you look up at Dean. “That’s the reason Viking’s go on a raid, to find their fortune…right?” Your eyes fill with tears when Dean nods.
“I came only for you, Y/N. I will never let you go now that I finally have you in my arms…” Giggling you snuggle into Dean’s chest.
“…and your bed…” You whisper the words but Dean hums, letting his hands wander to your ass to grope it lightly. “Ulfr…”
“No one dares to watch us, Y/N. All my men are too focused to reach our heim (home). They have wives, children, and a home to take care of. Winter is close and we need to be prepared for snow and ice.”
“I love snow…ice not that much…”
“Our winters is harder, merciless, and if you are not prepared, deadly. Don’t worry. My folks, the ones staying back at home are skilled people and prepared everything for our return. All of them know I will return with my fortune…my wife…”
Day 26
The wind is merciless. Biting your skin, making you freeze to the bones it tugs at your clothing. Dean is worriedly giving orders to his men. He can sense the storm coming, the snow - he can almost smell it.
“We have to hurry…” Dean translates when you look up at him after he yelled another order at his men. “Only a few hours. I can feel my home but, the snow and ice will make it hard to reach it if we lose more time.”
He’s wrapping you in a warm fur, runs his hands up and down your arms to keep you from freezing. “I am fine, my king. As your queen, I’ll get used to the rough winter and harsh lands. I will prove that I am worth being your fortune.”
Dean’s eyes lit up with every proud word leaving your lips. He can see the change in you. Days ago you were only shy, not an ounce self-confidence in you but now, he can see the fire of a queen burn bright in you.
“You will, my queen. Even though, you don’t have to. Everyone knows your worth and no one will dare to doubt your place by my side.”
Day 27
Spending weeks on a boat took a toll on you. When Dean helps you taking the first steps onto his homelands ground you fall to your knees, kissing the earth.
“My love?” All men, and the shield-maiden cheer at your gesture, and just now, Dean realizes there is no reason to worry as to his men and the maiden – you are one of them.
The elder women from your wedding ceremony, Gunhild, that’s her name is smiling wildly when an elder man limps toward her. He’s calling her name, saying something you don’t understand but your heart translated the words for you.
It’s her husband and he is glad she returned safely and was part of the raid to find Dean’s fortune, to find you.
“She’s proud of being part of my raid. It was her last, but she did better than anyone.” Whispering the words into your ear Dean nods at Gunhild and she gives him a toothless smile.
“People said she’s too old, but I said – she’s wise and no one knows the sea better than our Gunhild.” Ivar (Bobby) raises his weapon, calling out Gunhild’s name and you can see it, the pride flickers in the woman’s eyes before she says something, and the men start laughing.
“She has one dirty mouth, my king. It was good to bring her with us.” Ivar laughs deeply, patting your cheek before he says something to Gunhild’s husband making the crowd laugh again.
You only understand ‘ship’ and ‘wild’ but you assume, it has something to do with her husband’s libido.
“She said that from now on, the only ship she will sail is her husband’s,” Dean smirks when you try to find out what her words mean.
“That’s’…oh…” Giggling you hide your face in the palm of your cold hands.
Looking around the gathering crowd you nervously chew on your lower lip. All those men, women, and even children look at Dean before their eyes drift toward you. Your husband’s posture changes when he offers you his arm and you take it.
He’s talking slow, majestic now, like a king. You don’t understand all Dean says but thanks to Sam, who taught you a few words when Dean was busy helping his men or giving orders you can translate the most important words.
“My fellow Vikings.” Dean starts in Norse. “I have been gone way too long but, it was worth our raid. I finally found my fortune, my queen.” Dean smiles wildly when the crowd cheers. “Please welcome my love, my wife, and your queen. Princess Y/N of Y/L/N.”
An endless stream of people bowing or shaking Dean’s and your hands walked toward you and your king after his speech. Now most of them had a close look at you and Dean, well he smiles wildly, knowing his people agree to you as their queen.
When the people finally leave you, Dean and his family alone, you let out a deep breath. It was a long day and you are tired. Your husband knows he needs to bring you home so he finally gives orders to his men.
His voice is even now, and you can see the tension in his body is gone. He even smirks, laughs, and throws a snowball at his brother.
Your king is home, and so are you…
More tags in reblog.
Wolf and princess
@rosalynshields
#The wolf and the princess Masterlist#spn meets vikings#viking!dean#viking!dean x princess!reader#viking au#viking!Dean Winchester x reader#dean winchester#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester x you#dean winchester fanfic#dean winchester SPN#dean winchester smut#dean winchester x reader#dean x reader#dean x you#The wolf and the princess – Part 12 - A whole new world
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ohhhhhhh promt list!! 31 & enjoltaire yes please
I��ve taken so long to write this. So sorry for the delay!
The prompts are here
This sets in the same au a this fic, and if you are interested in more, also check out this post ;)
…
Enjolras glanced down at his ‘what a five years old should need for a daytrip’ list he and Combeferre had carefully composed last year, when Simone went to her first daytrip with her elementary school, checking off the items he had already packed for Henri in his head, then went back to trying to push an extra hoodie into an already full backpack.
“Apollo?” Grantaire entered the living room from the little studio he made out of their guest bedroom, surprised to find his husband in the kitchen, when he was usually either watching Netflix documentaries or getting ready for bed at that time. “What the hell? I packed that bag this afternoon and I’m sure it wasn’t this full” his eyes widened as he took in Henri’s tiny green backpack on the verge of ripping open from all the things Enjolras deemed necessary to stuff in it.
“You didn’t include some of the things from the list” Enjolras explained, pausing his attempts to push the extra hoodie into the already full backpack when the fabric made a dangerous sound.
“You mean from the list that says we should pack our five years old son condoms for his first school trip?” Grantaire quirked an eyebrow at his husband, clearly amused.
“No, those are Courfeyrac’s suggestions, I told you to ignore those” Enjolras huffed, throwing himself down into one of the kitchen chairs.
“Then an extra pack of hair ties?”
“Exactly” Enjolras brightened at the prospect of his husband finally getting the purpose of the list.
“Henri’s hair isn’t even long enough to tie back” Grantaire exclaimed, disbelieving. “And I’ll let you know that Simone definitely didn’t need a whole pack of spare hair ties for a daytrip. Actually, I think it’s time to tell you that Eponine repacked Simone’s whole bag after Ferre packed it and warned me in advance that half of what’s on that list is bullshit.”
“So what? We will just let him go without a visibility vest?”
“Exactly? They will be walking in the woods Enjolras, not at the side of the highway” Grantaire reminded him. He half expected a retort, Enjolras being stubborn as he was, but after he didn’t get any response, he took a moment to really take in the state of his husband. As he noted the tired eyes and the slumped way he was sitting by the table, he softened a bit. “Why don’t you lay down? I’ll be with you in a minute, I’ll just repack this bag.”
“But…” Enjolras gave a weak protest, giving up entirely whne Grantaire stepped closer to gently cup his face in his hands.
“Come on” he whispered. “There’s nothing to worry about. It’s just a daytrip, nothing will go wrong.”
“It’s a bit too cold, maybe I should have packed you another hoodie. Or a coat” Grantaire looked down anxiously at Henri, who was walking next to him on the sidewalk, obediently holding Enjolras’s hand. The closer they got to the school, and the bus in front of it that would take Henry’s class to the countryside for the day, the more anxious Grantaire got.
“No dad, I’m not cold” Henri rolled his eyes in his adorable little boy way.
“It’s going to be fine, R” Enjolras assured him, leaning over Henri’s head to place a light kiss into Grantaire’s hair. “I’m sure you packed everything he will need.”“Oh, drop the act, Apollo! I know you are freaking out too. Henri you should have seen him last night, he was so…” Grantaire started but Enjolras cut him off before he could continue.
“I’m sorry, but I’m perfectly calm. I realised that you were right last night, the bag you packed for him was perfectly good. There’s no reason to freak out about this. It’s just a daytrip.”
“It’s not just a daytrip, daddy” Henri injected. “It’s the best thing we ever did with school.”
“It’s easy for you to stay calm.” Grantaire turned towards Enjolras as they turned the corner and the school became visible. “I packed the bag. I have the responsibility. What if he catches a cold?”
“Then I won’t have to go to school, and I can stay at home to paint with you” Henri supplied helpfully. “Dad, I wanna get sick. Can I take off my hoodie?”
“Absolutely no, young man” Enjolras shook his head firmly.
“I knew you would say that. This is why I asked dad” Henri explained, but after he only received a bemused look from Grantaire, he decided to give up. “Fine! Can I go now? Can I?” he started to pull on Enjolras’s hand impatiently, craning his neck to find his friends in the crowd that surrounded the buses, parked before the school.
“Okay, fine, but first, a few rules” Grantaire crouched down next to him, adjusting the collar of his shirt.
“Dad, stop it, you’re embarrassing me!” the little boy cried, as he attempted to push away his father’s hand.
“Come on, only a few. Just to be safe.”
“But, dad!”
“The sooner you let me tell these, the sooner I’ll let you go” Grantaire reminded him.
“Fine” the little boy allowed. “But hurry up!” he crossed his arms demandingly in front of his chest, stopping Grantaire to fiddle with his shirt anymore.
“Okay, so the rules. Don’t take off your hoodie, it’s cold today. Always hold your pair’s hand when you are walking and never let the group out of your sight. Don’t forget to eat the apples that I packed and if you need more water just ask Madame Berger. Right, madame?” he looked up as Henri’s teacher approached them.
“I’m sure everything will be fine, monsieur Grantaire” she smiled down at the pair. “Henri is very smart, and we will make sure no one gets lost or walks for long without water. The bus will be back by five” she added. “It’s time to get on now. Say goodbye to your fathers, Henri!” she instructed, then walked back to the others to let Henri bid farewell to his parents privately. Grantaire laughed, trying to disguise that he was on the verge of tears as Hneri threw his arms around his neck, sending excited glances towards the bus, while his father tried his hardest not to scoop him up and take him back home where he could keep an eye on him. Then quickly moved on to hug Enjolras’s legs.
“Tell dad not to worry about me” he looked up at his father with a serious expression that looked adorable on his baby face, before he ran off to join his friends near the bus.
“Don’t you dare to act smug” Grantaire said, as he straightened up. Taking Enjolras’s hand and watching as all the kids entered the bus. “You were all nervous about this for a week.”
“But then you reminded me that I was worrying too much” he could feel Enjolras shrug next to him, before he lifted his free hand to wave as the bus left the parking lot. “And I realised, you were right. You should take your own advice sometimes. Or don’t” he added after a moment of consideration. “It’s cute when you worry.”
“Don’t enjoy this so much or I might not walk you to work today” Grantaire shook his head, but his voice was way too fond as he tightened his grip on Enjolras’s hand.
“Is that so?” his husband asked as they started to walk away from the school hand in hand. “Then how would you know that I got there safely?” Enjolras turned to him with fake innocence. “I wouldn’t want you to worry.”
“Okay, that’s it, I’m going home” Grantaire started to walk, though he didn’t let go of Enjolras’s hand, so the blond fell into step next to him easily.
“No, you won’t” Enjolras stated, pulling him closer, so they were walking with their shoulders touching.
“No, I won’t” Grantaire agreed, planting a light kiss on his husband’s cheek as they turned the corner towards Enjolras’s office building.
#les miserables#les mis#enjoltaire#grantaire#les amis#les amis de l'abc#les miz#barricade boys#enjolras#exr#les amis kids au#modern au#parents au#awreckattemptstowrite#ultimate family verse
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Chapter Two: One Step at a Time
Another shout out to @thatbarricade for continuing to Beta Read and help with hcs and such to be added in as I go. -Freddie
Combeferre knocked on the door of Enjolras’ parents. A blonde woman opened it; the three young men could see where Enjolras got his looks from.
“I’m not buying anything.” She went to close the door but Courfeyrac caught the handle and held it open.
“Good, ‘cause we’re not selling anything,” Grantaire said. “Quite the opposite, actually.”
“What?” The woman’s eyes widened.
“Ma’am, we’re friends of your son, Julien. We came to get the rest of his things. I’m sure you don’t care too much, but he’s safe and cared for.” Ferre explained.
“I’m Combeferre, this is Courfeyrac and Grantaire.”
“He’s alright?” The woman covered her mouth with her hand.
“Perfectly. He’s staying with me and my boyfriend.” Ferre nodded. “We won’t be here long, don’t worry.” Ferre lead the other two into the house and up the stairs, Enjolras’ mother running after them.
“I’ll help you pack his things.” She pointed them in the direction of her son’s room.
“Why?” R questioned. “You didn’t stop anything that happened last night.”
The woman didn’t have an answer for that. She wasn’t about to admit to these strange young men that she was often intimidated by her husband and that she adored her son’s bravery to stand up to him and for what he believed in.
“He’s still my son.” She settled with after a moment. “No matter who he loves.”
R looked at the woman and shook his head, going to help Courf pack Enjolras’ books while Ferre packed his clothes into a duffle bag and suitcase he found in the closet.
Mrs. Enjolras left the room for a few seconds to get a box in which she put picture frames and little knick-knacks he had kept around the room.
“Woah. Who’s that?” R motioned to a picture of a young person with dark hair that reached their chin. Ferre looked over R’s shoulder and chuckled.
“Our friend Jehan. Enj took a photography class last year and Jehan modelled for him.”
“Is Jehan a girl or a guy?” R had to ask.
“They’re non-binary, actually. I don’t know what their sex is… Enj might. He’s known them longer than I have.”
“Books are set,” Courf said simply. He picked up the box.
“I’m gonna run these to R’s truck.” Grantaire followed behind him.
Mrs. Enjolras took down three little cloth flags held to the wall with push-pins. One was an American flag, which she assumed he got at a Fourth of July parade; another was rainbow, the last was striped yellow, white, purple, and black.
“What are these flags?” she asked.
“The rainbow one is the gay pride flag and the other one’s nonbinary pride for Jehan,” Ferre stated. He closed the last dresser drawer and looked at the woman.
“We live at 229 White Street. You can come to see him if you want to, but if your husband comes and tries to touch him… We’ve got friends that don’t want to see someone else fall subject to a hate crime.” Ferre paused. “If he wasn’t 17, I’d call the cops and report your husband, Mrs. Enjolras. Wait at least a week if you decide to come. He’s still calming down from everything.”
“Thank you. For what you’re doing.”
“It’s nothing an older brother wouldn’t do.” Ferre slug the duffle bag over his shoulder and picked up the suitcase.“I hope to see you soon, Mrs. Enjolras.” He took the box from her hands and headed out to the truck where the other two were waiting.
Once she heard the front door close, she sat on her son’s old bed, picked up one of his pillows, and breathed in the faint scent of her son’s shampoo as she cried.
*****
Enjolras sat on his new bed in Ferre and Courf’s rented house with his arms wrapped around his knees as he rocked back and forth, trying to even his breathing. He still couldn’t breathe properly. The front door opened, closed, and his breathing only got worse.
“Enj?” Courf called.
Enjolras took deep breaths through his nose and exhaled through his mouth in an attempt to calm himself down, but it only had the reverse effect.
“Julien?” Ferre tried. He walked to Enjolras’ new room and could hear the laboured breathing through the door. He opened the door just enough for him to get through and closed it behind him, going straight to the bed. He sat next to Enjolras and took one of his clammy hands, pressing it to his own heart.
“You’ve got to follow my breathing, alright? In and out. Slow and easy. In for four seconds, hold for seven, and release over eight.” Ferre explained gently, his voice was just loud enough to be heard over the younger’s fast, panicked breathing.
It took a few tries, but Enjolras was able to match his best friend’s breathing and slowly the dizziness went away, although the light-headedness lingered. He wanted to stop the panic attack before they got home so he wasn’t adding to the worry that he knew Ferre was already going through.
Combeferre pulled Enjolras into a hug as his breathing finished levelling out. “You’re alright. We got your stuff from your parents and you can arrange the room how you want. Courfeyrac and Grantaire are working on lunch so there’ll be food in a little bit.”
Enjolras nodded, even though most of the information was more or less passing through one ear and right out the other without really being helpful. Ferre figured this was the case and just squeezed his little brother a bit tighter and pressed a kiss to hair, a hand rubbing his back lightly.
“Panic attacks are hell; I know.” Ferre continued to rub Enjolras’ back.
“How about we ask R to spend the night see about a movie night? You haven’t seen The Two Towers until you’ve seen it with ‘Taire, and he’s doing his Treebeard impression along with the movie.” That got a chuckle from the blonde, and Combeferre grinned.
*****
“Hobbits? Never heard of a Hobbit before. Sounds like Orc mischief to me.” Grantaire’s voice was two octaves deeper than normal, and Enjolras found himself wondering how it didn’t hurt his vocal cords.
“They come with fire! They come with axes! Gnawing, biting, breaking, hacking, burning! Destroyers and usurpers, curse them!”
Enjolras could no longer hold in his laughter as it bubbled up from his throat. The sound made Grantaire and Ferre grin at each other. Courf was half paying attention and was on his phone. R had tried to snatch it on a few occasions but had yet to be successful.
“How many times have you seen this movie?” Enjolras asked, still laughing.
“Too many,” Courf groaned. “In high school, every sleepover, every birthday party, we watched this. Rarely one of the other two. Just The Two Towers.”
“You also don’t want to know how many times I’ve read the books.” Grantaire chuckled.
“By the way, if none of you know what to get me for my birthday I’ve read my giant anthology to death, so a new copy would be greatly appreciated.”
“I hardly ever watched these. I was only allowed to at Jehan’s,” Enjolras admitted. So that explained why his eyes were glued to the TV.
“Your parents didn’t let you watch them?” Courf’s voice was flooded with confusion.
“No. My parents are devout Roman Catholics. They filtered what I watched and read more closer than Russia. Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, those books about the kids that find the magical land in the clo-”
“The Chronicles of Narnia?” Grantaire stopped Enjolras short. “Your parents didn’t let your watch or read The Chronicles of Narnia?”
“No.”
“And I thought my parents were fucked up.” R stood from the couch and walked into the kitchen to get more soda for the group.
“Oh, yours are,” Ferre laughed. “Yours were too lenient.”
“What are you talking about? I learned a lot on their unlocked computer,” he laughed. “I shouldn’t be laughing about this. Enjolras, I'm a deeply troubled man.”
“It’s the demon possessing you and making you gay.” Enjolras waved a dismissive hand and got a laugh from each of the three men.
“Oh! Ferre, I was texting Jehan earlier and they said they’ll help me look for work.”
“Shit. You’re looking for a job?” Grantaire asked when he came back into the room, handing each of his friends a can of soda.
“I got a place. Hold on.“ He dug his hand into his jeans pocket to retrieve his phone; his fingers became a blur, and Enjolras wondered how anyone could form a coherent sentence typing that fast.
“Where?” Ferre furrowed his brow.
“I don’t wanna jinx it. Just gimme a sec.” It was closer to a minute, but R’s phone eventually went off.
“You’re 18 next month, right?”
“Yeah…” Enjolras looked between Ferre and Grantaire.
“Worked. You know where the Café Musain is?” Grantaire asked.
“No.”
“I’ll show you tomorrow. You’ve got a job as a barista. Pick a shift and you’re good. Noon to five, one to six, or three to eight.”
“One to six, I guess?” Enjolras was just as confused as Ferre and Courf were.
“How did you pull this?” Courf asked for the rest of them.
“So, I’ve got this friend- Eponine- and she works there, but is also really good friends with the owners so she’s more or less in charge of hiring people. Told her Enj was looking for a job, they’ve been trying to replace a guy that left for the summer, and here we are.”
“Uh, thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. You’re gonna love the place. The atmosphere is amazing, the workers are nice. It’s technically on the college compass so it’s really fucking diverse. You should take your friend Jehan some time.”
“I’ll talk to them about it after my shift tomorrow.”
“I still can’t believe that you haven’t seen the Chronicles.” Courf shifted and leaned against Ferre.
“We should start tomorrow with The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. I don’t work till three, so…”
“I’m starting at one, apparently,” Enjolras reminded.
“So we watch the first two movies then R can get you to work!” Courf clapped his hands together, clearly not take no for an answer.
*****
“It’s 20 to eleven. Nothing’s going to be open.” Enjolras adjusted how he was sitting.
“There’s Walmart like five miles away.”
“Oh dear god.” Ferre leaned forward and hid his face in his hands.
“There’s no way I’m going to Walmart. For one thing, it’s a soul-sucking, sold out corporation. Second of all, the workers are extremely underpaid for how much they work; I’ve read they hardly even get holiday bonuses.
“That’s not even touching on the lack of hygiene in the entire store- sealed food included. Jehan bought a bag of rice from there once. There were ants in the bag, and the-the ignoramuses wouldn’t let them return it. I mean, you can’t even be angry at the workers because people in polos are just working for soulless idiots in suits.”
Grantaire blinked. “Well shit. Fine.” He put on the turn indicator and pulled up to a drive-through. He rattled off his, Ferre’s, and Courf’s usual orders with a pout and let Enj say his before driving to the pick-up window. Courf sat in the back seat of the truck next to Enj and was trying not to laugh at the annoyed look on Ferre’s face and the slightly proud look Enjolras wore.
“So you’re okay with Dairy Queen but won’t set foot in a Walmart?”
“I have...fewer problems with Dairy Queen, yes.”
“Noted.” Grantaire nodded. Ferre leaned over, hid his mouth behind his hand.
“Never mention StarBucks,” Ferre whispered in R’s ear. The darker-haired young man just laughed.
When the Dairy Queen worker appeared in the window with their order, R handed her his debit card. Once everything was paid for, he handed the ice creams out.
“I can pay you ba-”
“Don’t even worry about it.” R pulled back onto the street, his Blizzard in the cupholder. “I wanted ice cream, my treat.”
*****
Back at the apartment, Courf fell asleep half an hour into The Return of the King and Grantaire wasn’t far behind. Enjolras and Combeferre were still awake when Pippin took the palantír from a sleeping Gandalf.
“How are you holding up, Enj?” Ferre’s question was whispered so he wouldn’t wake the other two.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“It might help.”
“Maybe. I just-just I don’t know. I mean...it was the family game night they push every Friday and...and Rene was losing and said it was ‘gay.’ I told him he shouldn’t use the word like that because some people find offensive.
“He said there wasn’t anyone in the house that should be offended by it and I was dumb enough to say I was. I was so tired of hearing him say things were gay, or faggy, and it just went on and on and I couldn’t listen to it anymore. So he knocked me out of my chair, punched me, and said I had ten minutes to leave the house.”
Combeferre didn’t know what to say. He just stared at Enjolras and the younger shifted, uneasy under his gaze. “I know there’s not much to say, but I do want to say I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go or who else to call and this isn’t your job. I shouldn’t have put this much pressure on you and Courfeyrac. I’m sorry.” He quickly wiped his eyes as he felt tears forming again.
“And I should stop crying. I don’t think I’ve ever cried this much.”
Combeferre hugged Enjolras, more or less pulling the blonde to sit in his lap. “I know I speak for both Courfeyrac and me when I say that you aren’t a burden, stress, pressure, whatever you want to call it. I care about you, Courf already does. Hell, even Grantaire likes you and he’s the most cynical person I’ve ever met, so that’s saying something.
“I promise you’re safe and welcomed here. And you didn’t even have to ask me before you invite Jehan over.” That brought a giggle from Enjolras. “You’re safe here, and I’ll keep reminding you as often as I have to for it to get through this thick skull of yours.”
Combeferre ruffled Enjolras’s hair again and pressed a kiss to the top of the blonde locks. “Get some sleep, my friend. Things are going to be just fine.”
#snafu and freddie's imagine shoppe#read your imagines#courfeyrac#combeferre#enjolras#grantaire#eponine#les mis#les amis#modern les amis
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2k of Enjoltaire Cuddling
(Because @badassindistress needed it a while ago and @adorablecrab could use some right now and because there is just not enough cuddling in general)
It’s around eleven at night and Courfeyrac and Bahorel are singing. Houcheloup has given up on telling them not to by now. The Musain is empty apart from them anyway. That tends to happen when they come in as a group.
Grantaire is sprawled out on one of the leather couches with Enjolras in his arms. He is almost used to this by now. Almost.
Enjolras is watching his friends perform with a happy smile diffused over his face.
Grantaire smiles too and closes his eyes for a moment. He is completely comfortable, apart from Enjolras’ hair tickling his face and he leaves that because the idea that that could be his only problem at any given moment is as hilarious as it is ridiculous. Enjolras mumbles something he can’t quite hear and he opens his eyes again. “Hm?” he hums.
“Do you know if Feuilly is still coming?” Enjolras repeats.
“Jehan said he is on his way,” Grantaire replies.
Jehan, at this time, is sleepily dancing and swaying to Bahorel’s guitar play. That is quite a feat, because it is not a song that encourages gentle swaying.
“We’ll be complete then,” Enjolras says approvingly.
Grantaire glances to a similar couch where Joly and Bossuet are sitting with a very tired, but triumphant Marius, who just got through an infamous law exam. Bossuet is still complimenting him.
“Pretty much,” Grantaire hums.
Enjolras shifts his weight and cuddles into Grantaire a little more. He grins, taking the hint and beginning to gently stroke Enjolras’ hair. Enjolras makes what he would describe as ‘an appreciative sound’, but that everyone else calls ‘that purring thing Enj does’. Grantaire doesn’t call it anything, he just considers it his favourite sound in the world right now. He makes eye contact with Combeferre over the top of Enjolras’ head and grins. Combeferre rolls his eyes and looks away with a smile.
“Want me to wake you when Feuilly arrives?” Grantaire teases.
“I’m not falling asleep,” Enjolras protests and he tries to turn around in Grantaire’s arms to give him an indignant look.
Grantaire tightens the arm he has around Enjolras’ waist. “No, stay,” he whines.
Enjolras stops struggling and snorts softly.
With the shifting of position Grantaire can now reach Enjolras’ head a little better and he softly scratches his scalp through the loose curls.
“You know, I really can’t tell which one of you is enjoying that more,” a voice says behind them.
“Feuilly!” Enjolras says delightedly and he almost sits up, but Feuilly quickly rounds the couch and gives his shoulder a squeeze.
“Stay where you are,” he chuckles. “R looks like he’d fight me if I make you get up.”
“You are a prince among men, Feuilly,” Grantaire says solemnly. “And yes, I would fight you.”
Enjolras rolls his eyes and Feuilly laughs. “I’ll be back in a moment,” he says. “Just going to say hi to the others, then we can catch up.” He’s been very busy with work lately, they haven’t seen much of him at all.
“Okay,” Enjolras says contentedly and Grantaire smirks because Enjolras is only making himself heavier in his arms.
They both watch Feuilly navigate the maze of tables and chairs, saying hi to Combeferre, Marius, Joly and Bossuet on the way, before reaching the trio of entertainers. There is a loud squeal that belongs to Jehan and a boisterous cry from Bahorel, immediately followed by Courfeyrac insisting Feuilly sings with them.
“Make that a little more than a moment,” Grantaire chuckles, watching how Jehan drapes themself around Feuilly’s neck.
“That’s fine,” Enjolras says sincerely. “I’m just glad he’s here.” The soft, flowing smile is back on his face as he watches their friends. One of his hands slides to the arm that Grantaire is hugging him with and he absentmindedly strokes him through the fabric of his shirt before placing his hand over Grantaire’s and keeping it there.
Grantaire smiles. There’s a bright flash followed by a pearl of laughter from the other couch, where Joly has taken his phone out.
“Invasion of privacy!” Grantaire yells. “Sue them for me, Enj.”
“No legal speak!” Bahorel booms from behind his guitar.
Grantaire laughs. Enjolras starts laughing too, but that might just be because Grantaire’s laughing is shaking him.
Bahorel glares around the room. “I’m warning you!” he threatens, narrowing his eyes at Bossuet and Marius as well.
Since Enjolras is too comfortable to start messing with him on purpose, the room stays free of legalese and Bahorel goes back to playing the guitar. Jehan is now sitting on Feuilly’s lap and Courfeyrac is standing on a chair, waiting for his accompaniment.
Grantaire keeps stroking Enjolras hair, until Enjolras makes a sound and turns around in his arms. Grantaire lets him, he can tell the difference between half-hearted and determined movements. Enjolras looks up at him and Grantaire wonders if he will ever not be struck by how blue his eyes are. Surely even that must become normal after a while?
“Speaking of privacy,” Enjolras begins. “There’s going to be a debate at the law faculty about the status of lèse-majesté in modern monarchies. One of my favourite professors will be speaking…”
Grantaire smiles slightly. “Sounds cool. Shall I come?”
“Would you want to?” Enjolras asks, looking straight into his eyes.
“Sure,” Grantaire says. “I’ll go to anything as long as it isn’t math.”
Enjolras gives him a genuinely puzzled frown. “Seriously, R, why do you still study math?”
“For my sins,” Grantaire answers simply.
Enjolras doesn’t argue, but he plucks at the collar of Grantaire’s shirt and says: “You don’t have to go, you know, only if you want to.”
“Why wouldn’t I want to?” Grantaire says. “I sneak into Ferre’s lectures all the time.”
“Yeah, but you also did that before you knew him,” Enjolras points out.
“So?” Grantaire says, giving a shrug with the shoulder he’s not leaning on.
“So I don’t want you to come to law lectures for me,” Enjolras says earnestly. “Only if you want to.”
Grantaire looks at him with a somewhat bemused expression. “Can I not want to come because of you?” Grantaire asks.
A slight shadow passes over Enjolras’ face.
Grantaire smiles inwardly. Because as weird as it is, this is one of the things he adores about being with Enjolras. Everything is a matter of principles with him and since Grantaire only feels strongly about a very select number of subjects that means they clash. Frequently. Like they are now. Except Enjolras is still lying in his arms and he’s clearly not going anywhere. He’s frowning, because he disagrees with Grantaire’s standpoint, but that doesn’t mean he disagrees with Grantaire. It has taken Grantaire a long time to figure that out.
“Why can’t I go to this thing because it matters to you?” he asks, sinking his voice to a more gentle tone.
“I had rather you’d go because it matters to you,” Enjolras says.
Grantaire laughs. “I don’t think you realize how few things I care about without the influence of my friends,” he quips.
The look on Enjolras’ face grows a little more sober still and the hand that was plucking at Grantaire’s collar now moves to his back as he wraps that arm around him. “Don’t joke about that.”
“Sorry,” Grantaire says. “But…I’m not joking.” He searches for the right words. “Dancing is a lot more fun when Jehan’s there, boxing a lot better with Bahorel, bad movies a lot funnier with Bossuet…”
“That’s not the same thing,” Enjolras protests.
“They’re things that matter to me,” Grantaire says, with as much sincerity as he can command. “And people that matter to me more.” He falls back into his jokey comfort zone and adds: “Imagine how hard-core I’ll be about law by the time you’re done with me.”
Enjolras snorts and tries to give him a shove, but it’s hard to shove someone you’re leaning most of your weight against.
“So, shall I come to the law thing I’m interested in because it matters to you?” Grantaire grins.
“Yes,” Enjolras rolls his eyes.
“Cool,” Grantaire says. He pulls his face into a serious expression and says with mock-concern: “I can’t promise I’ll care as much about lèse-majesté as I care about you, though,” he says. “Because I don’t think that’s possible, or healthy.”
Enjolras scoffs, trying to hide how pleased he is getting the term right. “I’d like it if you came,” he says. He smirks. “Are you going to be yelling things from the back, like you do at Ferre’s uni?” His eyes twinkle. “He told me about the philosophy lectures.”
“Ferre is a snitch,” Grantaire grins. “And I didn’t yell anything except very necessary comments.”
“Nietzsche could kick Gadamer’s ass was a necessary comment?” Enjolras snorts affectionately.
“Well he could, and yes,” Grantaire insists.
Enjolras leans forward, nestling his forehead against the crook of Grantaire’s neck and laughs. Grantaire turns his head just a little so he can bury his face in Enjolras’ curls.
“I’m not going to be done with you,” Enjolras mutters, but it’s so muffled that Grantaire can’t quite hear what he’s saying.
“What?” he hums.
Enjolras pulls away to look at him and Grantaire really doesn’t agree with that, but then Enjolras repeats, very deliberately:
“I’m never going to be done with you.”
Grantaire looks at his open face and can’t think of anything to say in return, because the levels of sincerity that Enjolras can speak with would probably kill him. If he opens his mouth he’ll probably say something self-depreciating without meaning to and he’s not going to spoil this moment. So instead of saying anything he reaches out and brushes a stray blond curl out of Enjolras’ face and tucks it behind his ear, because that is a thing he can do now. And a thing Enjolras appreciates, judging from the soft look on his face. Grantaire sees movement coming towards them and clears his throat in an attempt to regain the ability to speak. “Hi Feuilly, long time no see.”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Feuilly grins, dragging a chair towards the couch. “So, catching up?”
Enjolras turns around in Grantaire’s arms. “Do I have to move?” he asks, half-jokingly.
“No,” Feuilly smiles, leaning back in his chair.
“Good,” Enjolras grins.
“Do I get a say in this?” Grantaire quips.
“Not really,” Enjolras says. “You signed up for this.”
“The nerve,” Grantaire huffs, but he’s delighted. Enjolras actually joking with him about consent and boundaries is life to him.
“To be fair, you do look pretty comfy to lie on,” Feuilly chuckles.
“He is,” Enjolras confides. He nestles backwards, a little closer against Grantaire’s chest and rests his head on his arm so he can look at Feuilly comfortably. “How did it go with the music box?” he asks eagerly.
“We’re almost finished,” Feuilly says happily and he begins to explain with colourful details how everybody at the workshop is half in love with the antique thing and half-terrified of messing something up. They’re woodworkers and furniture makers after all, music boxes are hardly their expertise. But it’s a big thing, mostly made out of wood and leather and with very rudimentary mechanics. The owner couldn’t find anyone else willing to even try a restoration.
Grantaire listens with interest, because Feuilly tells excellent stories. He could make a far duller subject than this interesting to listen to. Still, at least half his attention is still on Enjolras, who is lying snugly in his arms and eagerly questioning Feuilly.
There’s a flash of bright colours and suddenly Jehan is climbing on the side of the couch. “No fair,” they complain. “I want to hear the story too.”
“It’s not really a story,” Feuilly protests.
“Yes it is,” Grantaire grins. “Everyone, come listen to Feuilly’s story!”
Feuilly groans, but laughs as the others all draw near.
“Ferre!” Courfeyrac calls out and Combeferre looks up from his notebook.
“Feuilly is not telling a story,” Grantaire grins.
“About the music box,” Enjolras reminds them all cheerfully.
Combeferre closes his notebook and turns towards them, leaning on his arms. “I’m listening,” he says and Feuilly buries his face in his hands for a moment.
Jehan pats him on the back sympathetically from where they’re perched on the couch’s armrest.
“Hey move over,” Bahorel commands, pushing at Grantaire’s legs. He and Enjolras both draw up their legs a little more so he can sit. “See,” he grins. “That’s better. Now you’re actually spooning, makes for better pictures.”
Enjolras rolls his eyes and makes no effort whatsoever to move. Neither does Grantaire. He watches how Joly, Bossuet and Marius drag the other couch closer towards them so they can join without having to give up their seat and thinks back to all the other times they all hung out at the Musain. He’d give anything to be able to tell his past self that one evening he would be hanging out there with his arms wrapped around Enjolras like it’s the most natural thing in the world. That all his friends would be sitting around acting like it’s the most natural thing in the world. That Enjolras would be cuddled up against him like he thinks that’s the most natural thing in the world.
Grantaire disagrees. It’s not natural at all. It’s the most amazing, incredible, unparalleled thing and as far as he is concerned, it can last forever.
#enjoltaire#enjolras#grantaire#feuilly#les amis#the gang's all here#this is actually#2.2k but not all of it is cuddling so my wordcount is valid#i hope this soothes your eyes debora#<3#sunfreckle's stories#modern means less miserable#les mis
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landslide
Combeferre left early the morning after their sleepover. Neither had slept much, but that wasn’t enough to keep Enjolras from going into work. He welcomed the work to distract him, though even with a full calendar, it didn’t stop him from worrying over Grantaire. After he’d left, Enjolras hadn’t heard from him, and he thought it went against the whole giving him space idea to text and make sure he’d made it to Jehan’s okay. Or find out when he’d be back. Grantaire hadn’t said.
He hoped it would be soon. After his talk with Combeferre, he had a clearer head and fresh determination to find a way through this mess. He just needed to get Grantaire onboard, and he was nothing if not persuasive.
Even though Enjolras didn’t know if Grantaire would be home, he left work on time to get home early. He tidied up from dinner last night, washed the dirty dishes, and put on a new batch of coffee. In case Grantaire did come home that night, he decided to cook pasta for dinner, with a fresh loaf from the bakery down the street to make garlic bread.
But minutes ticked by and hours, and the sauce went cold and the sun went down, and Enjolras had a dreadful feeling that he’d be spending the night alone.
Grantaire stumbled through the door close to midnight, after spending a good couple of minutes trying to get his key into the lock. He slumped against the doorway, momentarily astonished that the door had finally opened, and then confused about the time. It had been dark outside but it was like daytime in here, the lights on and Enjolras right there.
“Hey,” he said.
Enjolras stood from where he’d been settled on the sofa, reading through case files in preparation for work the next day. It was never a good thing when Grantaire came stumbling into the apartment so late at night.
“Hey,” he said, coming to meet him. “Come in, close the door.”
Grantaire stared up at him for a long moment, eyes wide and a little unfocused. He started to smile, adoration clear in his expression even now. A moment later, he managed to straighten up and step inside the flat, falling back against the door to close it behind him.
“Good time with ah… with Ferre?” he asked.
Enjolras’ chest tightened. The clarity he’d felt about moving forward seemed foggier now that Grantaire stood before him drunker than he’d seen him in years.
“You walked home, oui? You didn’t ride your bike?”
Grantaire nodded, his expression falling. He could feel Enjolras’ disappointment in him like it was his own.
“Come on,” Enjolras said softly, motioning into the apartment. “Go get in bed, I’ll get you some water.”
Grantaire shook his head, reaching out for Enjolras but not quite managing to grab hold of him. “I’m okay, I’m okay. Promise,” he slurred. “How’s Ferre? Okay with Ant?”
Enjolras stepped forward to catch Grantaire, hands on his upper arms to steady him. “He’s fine,” he said. “Come on, bed.”
Grantaire shook his head again, hands curling around Enjolras’ shirt. He looked up at him. “I’m not tired,” he said, speaking softly but fervently. “We need to talk anyway. We need to… I believe in us, t’sais? I’ve been stupid - you’ve been right all along. Forget the prenup. Forget your parents. You’re right. It’s us. It’s just us. I’ll do whatever you want, ça va? Anything you want.”
Enjolras drew a sharp breath, his chest tighter than before. “We don’t have to talk about this now,” he said, leading Grantaire towards the bedroom.
“Why not?” Grantaire pressed, still looking up at Enjolras as they walked; he didn't seem to have quite registered they were moving. “Isn't it important? Isn't it what you want, ah?”
“I don’t want to talk about it tonight,” Enjolras said, glancing back to find the bedroom doorway and leading Grantaire through.
Grantaire made a soft sound but quietened, his head resting on Enjolras' shoulder.
“Easy now,” Enjolras said softly, easing Grantaire down onto the bed. This was easier, focusing on taking care of him like this. Like the old days. “Lay back, I’ll get your shoes off.”
Grantaire laughed a little, brushing Enjolras off. “I can… I can do it,” he said, though he was already struggling.
“Lay back,” Enjolras said again, pulling off Grantaire’s shoes. “I’ll get you some water. And painkillers. Are you hungry?”
Grantaire sighed and flopped back on the bed, flinging his arms over his eyes. “I'm okay,” he mumbled. “You don't have to…”
“I’ll be right back,” Enjolras said, leaving the room. He took a moment in the kitchen to let out a soft sigh, trying to gather himself together before he had to face Grantaire again.
It would’ve been so easy to just accept the words Grantaire had said, so easy to just fall back into the way they were. But he knew he couldn’t.
“Here you go.” He set the water and meds on the bedside table. “Drink some before you sleep, ca va?”
Grantaire was already asleep.
Enjolras sighed again. At least he’d have everything when he woke up. He pulled the covers over Grantaire and turned off the light, backing out of the room to crash on the sofa.
Grantaire stirred early the next morning, his head banging and with a deep sense of nausea. He sat up slowly and closed his eyes as he waited for the room to stop spinning. He finally got to his feet and reached blindly for the water on the bedside table. He didn't feel any better for it and Enjolras wasn't in the bed beside him.
He padded unsteadily out into the living room.
Enjolras didn’t sleep well on the sofa, but he didn’t think he would’ve slept any better if he’d been in bed. He woke with the sun that morning and went straight for the kitchen to make a strong pot of coffee.
When Grantaire woke, he was on the sofa with a full mug, his second, watching the news.
“Hey,” he said softly.
“Hey,” Grantaire replied, hesitating by the sofa. Now he was sober, a deep sense of shame had settled over him. “I’m ah… I’ll shower,” he mumbled.
Enjolras opened his mouth to speak but closed it almost immediately, nodding silently.
Grantaire nodded too, then headed back into the bedroom. He couldn’t help taking his time in the shower, slow and stiff from sleeping in that uncomfortable position. He felt a little better by the time he’d dried himself off and brushed his teeth and dressed again, but not much. He poured himself another glass of water before finally joining Enjolras on the sofa, cradling the glass between his hands and keeping his eyes lowered.
“So…” Enjolras started awkwardly, fiddling absentmindedly with the handle of his mug. “How’re you feeling?”
“Not… my best,” Grantaire mumbled. He risked a glance over at Enjolras. “Are you alright?”
Enjolras shrugged. “Je ne sais pas,” he said. Now probably wasn’t the time to lie and say he was okay. “Non.”
Grantaire looked up at him properly now, eyes wide and concerned. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly.
“It’s hard to see you like that,” Enjolras said, looking away from him.
“I know,” Grantaire said. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“I won’t see it again?” Enjolras asked. “Or you won’t get wasted again?”
“I…” Grantaire began, watching Enjolras uncertainly. “Je ne sais pas, I… I’m trying, Enjolras. Really, I am. I didn’t mean to…”
Enjolras met Grantaire’s gaze warily. “Are you really?”
Grantaire’s expression turned desperately hurt for a second before he managed to hide it, attempting a smile. “Oui, of course I am,” he said. “I… Isn’t it a good start that I came home? That I didn’t try to lie about it or hide it? I thought you’d…”
Enjolras reached for Grantaire’s hand, squeezing gently. “I’m happy you came home, chéri,” he said. “I’m happy you’re safe. But before you left, you told me you didn’t want to quit.”
Grantaire faltered slightly, then squeezed Enjolras’ hand tight, leaning forward imploringly. He spoken quickly. “I really don’t think I need to,” he said. “Really. It’s under control - last night was a mistake, that’s all it was. Everyone makes mistakes. I was worried and upset and with the wrong people and I won’t let it happen again, I swear. I’ve been doing okay otherwise, non? It’s been under control.”
Enjolras frowned. “The wrong people? Weren’t you with Jehan?”
Grantaire’s eyes widened slightly. “Oui,” he said. “I was with Jehan…”
Enjolras’ frown deepened. “And Jehan is… the wrong people?”
“Non, non,” Grantaire said hastily. “Jehan is… You know Jehan. He was great. He’s perfect.”
“Who were you with, Grantaire?”
“I just… On my way home from Jehan’s, I… I bumped into some old friends. They don’t know about the whole… drinking thing, so… That’s all.”
Enjolras nodded, though Grantaire’s evasiveness unsettled him. “I need you to stop.”
“What?” Grantaire said softly.
“Stop drinking,” Enjolras said, looking over at him. “I need you to stop. I can’t have you stumbling home drunk at midnight, or just buzzed after work. I can’t do that.”
Grantaire nodded. “Oui, okay, I won’t do that again. Easy,” he said, attempting a smile.
Enjolras watched Grantaire for a long moment, then shook his head. “I can’t have you drinking at all.”
“You won’t even know,” Grantaire promised him. “You won’t be able to tell at all, it will have that little impact on me, I swear. Anyway, Montparnasse was saying last night that it doesn’t have to be all or nothing, not if I really believe it’s under control and it is, Enjolras, I promise. No more mistakes.”
Enjolras laughed, shocked at the words that had just come out of Grantaire’s mouth. His blood ran cold. “Montparnasse? Montparnasse said that?”
Grantaire paled. He was silent for a long moment, fighting to find the right thing to say. In the end, he just nodded.
“Good, that’s good,” Enjolras said, dropping Grantaire’s hand as he stood. He was still laughing. “Montparnasse? Are you fucking with me?”
Grantaire stared up at him, expression horrified. “I just bumped into them,” he said. “I didn’t mean to… to… We just…”
“So you just… bumped into Montparnasse, and thought you’d confide in him? That face looks that trustworthy, ah?”
“What? Non,” Grantaire said hastily. “Non, we… we just got talking and I was trying to explain why I couldn’t go for a drink with them and…”
Enjolras scoffed. “Come on, Grantaire. Do you think I’m that stupid?”
“I don’t think you’re stupid at all!” Grantaire protested. “I’m telling you the truth!”
“How long have you been hanging out with him?”
“I haven’t been hanging out with him, Enjolras,” Grantaire said. “I haven’t even heard from him in months. I swear, we just bumped into each other last night - it was complete chance.”
Enjolras nodded, though he didn’t believe him. He’d begun to pace. “So what now? You just… keep a stock of booze, sip a little here and there just to take the edge off, hang out with Montparnasse after work where he reassures you that one more beer won’t hurt, and I sit at home wondering if you’ll make it back?”
Grantaire looked down. “It’s not like that,” he said quietly. “I won’t ever so much as speak to him again if you don’t want me to.”
“You know how he is, why do you think I’d be okay with it? Why are you okay with it? I don’t understand what’s going on with you.”
“So I won’t see him again!” Grantaire said, looking up at Enjolras. “Simple as that.”
Enjolras turned to face him. “It’s not that simple, Grantaire! You’re drinking again, you’re smoking, you’re hanging out with Montparnasse! This isn’t you, you haven’t been this person in years! What the hell is going on?”
“You’re seeing it all wrong!” Grantaire said, standing. “It’s not like that. It’s not like that at all. I’m not hanging out with him! I bumped into him once and I told you it was a mistake. I’ve told you it won’t happen again.”
“Okay, fine, we’ll drop Montparnasse from the equation,” Enjolras said, folding his arms over his chest. “You’re drinking, and you can’t say to me that it’s a mistake. You’re saying stumbling home drunk was a mistake, but not the drink.”
“It was one drink too many,” Grantaire conceded. “And I promise you I will not let that happen again. I promise you, Enjolras. I can handle a glass of wine with lunch or a beer if we hang out after work at the gallery, and that’s it.”
Enjolras shook his head. “One drink is one drink too many, Grantaire. I can’t believe we’re having this conversation again, you were doing so well with sobriety. Why are you going backwards?”
“It’s not!” Grantaire pleaded. “It’s not. I can handle one drink, you know I can. I have been handling one drink.”
“I can’t!” Enjolras cried. “I can’t handle you having a sip of a drink. You’re an addict, Grantaire. One drink can turn into two so easily, and two to three and on and on and on, without you meaning to, even when you think you have control over it. I can’t live with the fear of losing you to the drink again. I can’t do it.”
Grantaire faltered. “So… So, what? I go back to hiding it from you?”
Enjolras shook his head, drawing a shaky breath. “You need to get help, Grantaire.”
“No, I don’t,” Grantaire said, earnest and pained. “I need you to trust me.”
“I can’t,” Enjolras said. “Not about this.”
Grantaire swallowed, looking down so Enjolras wouldn’t see the way his eyes were stinging with tears. “Why not?”
“You know why,” Enjolras said quietly. “You know how unstable we were before. I can’t go back to that.”
“We won’t,” Grantaire said, reaching for Enjolras’ hands. “I promise, we won’t. We can manage this, all of this. We can. I know we can.”
“I can’t,” Enjolras said again, wiping his tears hastily on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
Grantaire stared at him helplessly. “So… So, what?”
Enjolras couldn’t stop the tears from flowing with Grantaire looking at him like that. He felt just as helpless.
“We’re… we’re not on the same path anymore,” he said. “We’re going in different directions, we’ve been going in different directions, and I don’t know how meet you where you are. I don’t have the answers, Grantaire, I don’t… I think maybe we need to put everything on hold until we can figure that out.”
“Right, right,” Grantaire said, wiping his eyes hastily. “You’re right. We’ll just press pause for a bit, ah? We’ll take things easy and talk everything through and you’ll see that you can trust me. You’ll see.”
Enjolras shook his head, pressing his fingertips over his eyes. “I can’t be with you when you’re drinking,” he said quickly.
Grantaire faltered. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” Enjolras breathed, unable to keep up with wiping away his tears. “I’m sorry, I can’t. You’re not… you. This isn’t you, and you don’t want help, and I can’t… I need you. This isn’t you.”
“I’ll stop,” Grantaire said desperately. “I’ll stop. Anything, Enjolras, anything. You don’t mean that, you don’t… You can’t…”
“But you won’t,” Enjolras said. “You won’t, you’ll hide it from me before you stop. If you stop. You don’t want to stop.”
“Give me a chance,” Grantaire pleaded. “You have to give me a chance.”
Enjolras wiped at his eyes again. “Look at me, Grantiare. Look me in the eye and tell me you’re going to stop.”
Grantaire looked up at him, mouth parted, and… He couldn’t. He couldn’t lie to him. He could tell him that he would try and mean that, but he couldn’t guarantee… It was bigger than him. It was all so much bigger than him.
He looked down silently.
Enjolras’ chest squeezed so tight it was difficult to breathe. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’m always going to be here for you, chéri, but right now… we can’t go on like this.”
Grantaire nodded silently, pressing his lips together so he wouldn’t burst into tears.
“I’m sorry,” Enjolras said again, taking a cautious step towards him. “I think it’s just a lot right now, for both of us. I think you need to focus on you.”
Grantaire nodded again. What was the point in arguing? When Enjolras had made up his mind, nothing could change it.
“So, I’ll ah…” He swallowed, still staring down at his feet. “I’ll go stay with Jehan, I guess.”
Enjolras opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure of what to say or what he felt. He remembered the last time they’d separated like this, how much Enjolras had fought for them. Grantaire was so passive.
“Ca va.”
It didn’t matter how determinedly he stared at the floor, there was no stopping the tears now. Grantaire was quick to wipe them again. This was what Enjolras wanted.
“So, is this… Should I… pack up my stuff?” he asked quietly, his voice breaking all the same.
Enjolras inhaled shakily. “I don’t know.”
Grantaire risked a glance up at him, his cheeks burning. It felt permanent. This felt permanent. Enjolras had made up his mind and Grantaire couldn’t persuade him otherwise. It would be easier for both of them if he just got everything out now, so he didn’t have to come back.
“I don’t have a suitcase,” he whispered.
“You don’t have to go,” Enjolras said, his heart breaking at the look on his face. “Don’t go. It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“It’s alright,” Grantaire said, shaking his head. “You don’t have to pretend. I get it. Just let me ah… I’ll call… I’ll…” It was no use; he was falling apart.
Enjolras moved to Grantaire, wrapping his arms tight around him. “I’m so sorry,” he said through tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to do.”
“I know,” Grantaire choked out, clinging to Enjolras all the same. “It’s okay. I understand. It just hurts, Enjolras. It really, really hurts.”
“I know,” Enjolras said, burying his face in his shoulder. “It’s not okay. Nothing about this is okay, I’m so sorry. I love you so much, Grantaire.”
“I love you too. But you’re right.” Grantaire pulled back slightly to look up at him, holding Enjolras’ face in his hands. “You’re right, about all of this.”
Enjolras rested his hands over Grantaire’s, his tears falling steadily. “I don’t want you to go.”
“If you want me to stay, then I’ll stay, but…” Grantaire swallowed. “That’s not really what you think is best, is it?”
Enjolras shook his head. “But I don’t want to do any of this. I don’t want it to be like this. I want us.”
Grantaire wiped his tears away; he could be brave for him, always, where he could never muster strength for himself.
“This is how we get us, ah? You don’t feel like us now, so we take some time apart and…”
And, what? He magically managed to stop drinking? He managed to convince Enjolras that that was what he’d done?
Grantaire couldn’t say what would happen when they took time apart, and neither could Enjolras. He couldn’t say that anything would get better after time apart, that they’d be able to come back together. He struck him hard knowing that if Grantaire left now, he might not ever come back.
He was overwhelmed with a new wave of tears.
The sight of Enjolras crying set Grantaire off again. He pulled him close again, holding him tight and closing his eyes. But he didn’t have another solution.
Enjolras clung to Grantaire, unable to speak for a long while as he cried into his shoulder. He wondered if he could get away with just never letting go.
“I don’t know what to say,” Grantaire had to admit. “I don’t know what to do.”
Enjolras shook his head; he couldn’t say again that he didn’t have the answers. He eased himself away from Grantaire, rubbing fiercely at his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “You shouldn’t have to comfort me.”
Grantaire shrugged. There was a distance between them again, with that, and his heart sank.
“I’m sorry,” Enjolras said again, unable to meet Grantaire’s eye.
“Me too,” Grantaire said.
“You don’t have to… move out,” Enjolras said quietly. A little desperately. “Maybe this won’t be…”
Grantaire swallowed and managed a small, rueful smile. “You’re not saying that because you think me staying will fix things,” he said quietly. “You’re saying it because me leaving is going to hurt.”
Enjolras hesitated. He couldn’t deny that. “I don’t want this to be the end,” he said. “What if you leaving doesn’t fix things, either? What if you staying does?”
“I don’t know,” Grantaire said. “I don’t know.”
Enjolras pressed his hands against his eyes to stop another wave of tears. “I don’t know what to do. I just… dieu, it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
Grantaire reached out and touched his arm, fighting back tears again himself. “I know,” he said softly. It was his fault, he knew that too. “I want to do whatever’s going to make this easiest for you, okay?”
“Nothing about this is easy,” Enjolras said, breathing a humorless laugh. “It hurts so much, Grantaire. It’s killing me.”
“I’m sorry,” Grantaire mumbled.
Enjolras shook his head. “This isn’t about me, ca va? It’s about us, what’s best for us,” he said, reaching for strength and falling short. “We just have to make a decision.”
Grantaire nodded. He took a deep breath. “I think… If I stay… All this is going to turn into is… is you waiting for me to slip up.”
“So… Jehan’s?” Enjolras asked, eyes on the floor. “For how long?”
Grantaire swallowed. He took another deep, shaky breath. “I don’t know,” he said.
Enjolras just nodded, his arms folded protectively over his chest.
“So, I guess I’d better pack my stuff up, ah?” Grantaire said, as lightly as he could manage, which wasn’t very lightly at all.
“I guess,” Enjolras managed to say.
Grantaire nodded and then his expression crumbled again. “What about Ant?”
“Oh,” Enjolras breathed, glancing around the flat until his eyes landed on her bathing in the sunlight coming through the balcony window. His heart broke all over again. “I, um…she’s yours.”
“She’s ours.”
Enjolras shrugged, trying to distance himself. “She likes you more.”
Grantaire exhaled a humourless laugh. He pressed his fingertips over his eyes. He was going to have to go home, back to his parents’; he couldn’t just move in with Jehan like this, with all his stuff, with a cat as well. There was barely enough room for Jehan in his flat as it was, and he had Callie to think about. Would his landlord even allow more than one pet?
“What?” Enjolras asked, frowning. “You don’t want to take her?”
“Non, of course I don’t want to take her,” Grantaire said, finding some of his desperation was tending toward anger now; anger at himself, at this awful situation. “She’s ours. This is her home. I don’t know where I’m going to go, Enjolras.”
Enjolras flinched. “I don’t know if I can stay here, Grantaire,” he said. “If you’re gone… if you don’t come back. This won’t be home.”
Grantaire held his hands up. There were too many things he didn’t have answers to, too many problems he couldn’t solve. He needed a drink.
Enjolras looked down again. “I’ll keep her,” he said quietly.
“You don’t want her,” Grantaire said. He didn’t want either of them. He exhaled sharply. None of this felt real.
“I never said that,” Enjolras said sharply. “I don’t want any of this. I don’t want to have to… divide our assets and our family and figure out where we’re all going to go. I just know how much you two are bonded, I thought she should stay with you.”
Grantaire nodded, biting back a comment about how none of this would have been a problem if they’d signed the prenup.
“Alright. I’ll take Ant. I’ll take my stuff,” he said, taking a couple of steps backward, to head into the bedroom where he knew there were a couple of cardboard stashed away still from when they’d moved in. “Rest is yours.”
“Great, sounds perfect,” Enjolras said. “I’ll get out of your way.”
Grantaire faltered, looking wounded. “Don’t do this like that,” he said.
“Why would you say something like that?” Enjolras asked. “Why would you think I’d ever want to give any of this up?”
“Because that’s what you’ve chosen to do.”
“I don’t have a choice here, Grantaire. We’re not okay. We haven’t been okay for a long time, you know that. And I don’t think we’re at a place where we can find middle ground because neither of us are willing to compromise. We’re not doing anything but hurting each other now. Is that what you want? To keep letting this get worse instead of giving us a chance?”
Grantaire shook his head silently. He swallowed. “So let’s do this… I still love you, alright?” he said. “I love you. I’m doing this because I love you, so I don’t want to walk out in the middle of a fight with you. I want to do this as kindly as it’s possible to.”
“I love you,” Enjolras said quietly. “But it’s okay if you’re mad at me right now. I was so mad at you when… before.”
“When…?” Grantaire prompted.
Enjolras couldn’t look at him. “When we broke up before.”
Grantaire swallowed, looking down. “I love you,” he said simply.
“I love you,” Enjolras said again. “Do you want help?”
Grantaire shook his head, turning and heading for the bedroom again. It wasn’t like he had much stuff anyway.
Enjolras moved to the sofa once Grantaire was out of the room, curling himself tight into the corner. He stared absently at a spot on the floor, trying his best to not focus on the fact that his entire world was falling apart.
It was easier not to panic, although he couldn’t stop himself from crying again, with something to focus on. Grantaire dragged out the couple of old cardboard boxes they still had, unfolded them, and then moved methodically around the bedroom, emptying drawers and pulling out the clothes he’d bothered to hang up from their shared wardrobe. He had his art and other uni-related stuff in the living room and some things in the bathroom, and that was it. He set the boxes down by the front door.
“Is there anything else?” he asked.
It took a moment for Enjolras to register than Grantaire had spoken to him. He glanced up, taking in the packed boxes and over to him again, shrugging.
“Je ne sais pas.”
Grantaire wiped his eyes. Ant and her stuff. There were probably other bits and bobs littered throughout the house that Enjolras would find and set aside for him, or hide away and ignore.
It killed Grantaire to think of him alone here, but it was Enjolras’ choice.
“I’m going to call Abi to come pick me up in her car,” he said, trying to stop crying. He felt so stupid, so lost. “Should I call Combeferre too? To stay with you?”
“Non, I’m fine,” Enjolras said, very obviously not fine. But he didn’t want Combeferre to see him like this. He didn’t want to face him like this.
“I can’t leave you alone like this,” Grantaire said.
“Really, I’m fine.” Enjolras stood, as if to prove his point. “I have some work to do, I should probably go into the office at some point. Get some groceries in here. I should shower.”
Just like that, like Grantaire had never been here at all.
“Just let me get Ant and I’ll wait outside,” he mumbled, eyes on the floor as he crossed the room to scoop up the cat.
Enjolras bit down on his lip but it wasn’t enough to stop him from crying again. “Let me say goodbye to her first,” he managed. “Please.”
Grantaire sat on the sofa beside him, setting Ant down between them.
“You can still see her. Whenever you want,” he said quietly.
Enjolras picked Ant up and cradled her in his arms, just like he had the day he’d brought her home. He scratched under her chin just the way she liked and smiled sadly when she started purring.
“Don’t forget the coupons,” he said, his voice shaky. “For those treats she loves. They’re in the kitchen.”
Grantaire nodded and left the two of them to gather up the cat stuff from the kitchen. A strange numbness had settled over him; he felt blank, empty, like nothing. He wasn’t sure it was better than the acute pain in his chest and the overwhelming need to cry that seemed to have passed.
Ant wriggled from Enjolras’ arms the second Grantaire headed for the kitchen, where she’d learned she always got her food and treats. He couldn’t stop the tears from coming but that didn’t stop him from trying to wipe them away. He didn’t know how they’d gotten here again, how it could possibly be worse than the first time, but they had and it was, and where he thought he might’ve found hope that they’d find their way back together like they did then, he couldn’t place it.
Grantaire texted Abi while he was in the kitchen. She’d be leaving class soon and could pick him up on her way home. He headed back into the living room and perched on the arm of the sofa, awkwardly silent.
Enjolras calmed himself back down quickly once Grantaire entered the room again. He hated to cry in front of him, especially when all of this was his doing. He glanced over at him and away again, at a loss for words.
“Do you want me to stay in touch?” Grantaire asked quietly.
Enjolras wiped at his face before looking over at Grantaire again, swallowing against the lump in his throat a few times before he could speak.
“I know when this happened before, I said it was all or nothing and I didn’t want to try to be friends, but... I don’t want to lose you. And I know it was hard for me to do that, and I know it’s going to be hard for me now and it’ll be hard for you, so I just… if you want to, I’d like you to.”
Grantaire nodded, already knowing there was no way he would be able to be the one to contact Enjolras first, not with the way this was ending. He knew too that there was no way he could live without him.
“You too,” he mumbled, eyes on the floor.
“This isn’t goodbye,” Enjolras said softly, reaching for his hand. “We’ll still talk, I’ll still be around. One day we’ll…” He hesitated. He couldn’t promise Grantaire anything. “I love you, ca va? I am so in love with you, and I will always be in love with you. I think there are just times where you can’t be with the person you love, and this is one of those times, but that doesn’t mean we won’t find our time again, oui?”
Grantaire softened, looking up at him. That made it easier, a lot easier, even if he didn’t know if he could quite believe it. It felt like it was happening fast, too fast, even though he knew something had been
building up for months now. He nodded.
“I hope we do,” he said.
Enjolras kissed the back of Grantaire’s hand, only just resisting the urge to steal a kiss from his lips. He didn’t know if he was allowed to do that anymore, and even more it was probably a bad idea. It made his chest ache.
“So do I.”
Grantaire nodded, squeezing Enjolras’ hand tight. He opened his mouth to speak, but his phone buzzed and he looked down, distracted.
“That’s Abi,” he said. He took a deep breath. “Can you get Ant in her case? I’ll start loading the car up.”
“Ah, oui, sure.” Enjolras stood, though felt immediately lightheaded. The reality of what he’d done suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks.
It took everything in him to go grab her carrier, his chest tight and his breaths shallow as though he might start crying again, but he didn’t think he had the tears left.
“What’s going on?” Abi was immediately inquisitive as Grantaire met her outside the front door, boxes in his arms.
He shook his head. “I’ll explain later. Pack these in for me, oui? I’ll be back down in a second.”
He met Enjolras at the front door to the flat.
Enjolras stood with his arms folded tight over his chest, Ant in her carrier on the floor at his feet meowing loudly. She’d never liked being confined in it.
He couldn’t make eye contact with Grantaire, and he didn’t know what to say.
Grantaire picked up the carrier and kept his eyes on the ground. The ache in his chest was back. He couldn’t breathe.
“So, see you soon, ah?” he said.
Enjolras nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak; he knew he’d just ask him to stay.
Half in tears again, Grantaire leaned up and kissed Enjolras’ cheek, then turned and forced himself to leave, before he started begging to stay.
The door shut after Grantaire and Enjolras slumped back against the wall, sliding down onto the floor. He stared after him, heart in a million splintered pieces in his chest. He couldn’t say if he’d made the right decision but he couldn’t take it back now, no matter how badly he wanted to run down after him.
The drive to his parents’ house was silent. Grantaire stared unseeingly out the window, not bothering to wipe away his tears; more kept falling. He could already anticipate their concern, could feel it radiating off Abi beside him, and he couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand it.
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I think my mom is finally starting to get that I need help (like I have add or depression) and I'm just?? So happy that she's finally making an effort to understand! Do you have any headcanons about the amis' parents?
That’s wonderful!! I’m so happy that you’re getting help and your mom is making an effort that is so fantastic and I really hope the best for you in getting better!!!
Enjolras and his parents don’t in any way get along. He comes from a rich family who never accepted him as their son and always tried to force him to be something he isn’t.His mom would force him to wear dresses and be more “like a lady.”His dad constantly told him to just be happy with what he had and ignore those less fortunate because they weren’t the family’s problem.A bitter, angry evening ended up with Enjolras shaving his head, stealing his dad’s best suit, making the speech of a lifetime about deserving a good life and being a good person not just for him but for everyone through thick tears, and leaving.So Enjolras doesn’t talk to his parents much, they ended up disowning him and he’s never been happier.
Courfeyrac is very close to his mother who raised him on her own. He spends every Sunday at her house where they drink tea and gossip and she shows him nail techniques and trends on his nails that he copies onto her, she’ll go into work the next day bragging about her son and showing everyone she works with what he did on her nails. She brags about him all the time to everyone about everything. She’s so proud of him for doing what he does, she loves his friends, she loves Combeferre. She taught him everything she learned, has always been honest and open with him, and loves him like he is her sun. In turn Courfeyrac shines bright and devotes his life to making her proud. You’ll never meet someone with a better relationship with a parent than Courfeyrac and his maman.
Combeferre is also very close to his mom but tends to have stiff uncomfortable conversations with his father who loves him of course but was always hard on him and never quite understood how Combeferre thought. On the other hand Ferre very clearly got his brain and wanting to learn from his mom the conversations they have are incredible and very often impossible to follow. He’ll have animated, interesting, amazing, quick conversations over dinner with his mom that carry well into the night, and quiet subdued coffee with his dad in the morning. He loves them both and they love him.
Jehan never met their father and their mother died when they were very young so they were raised by their witchy old aunt who they absolutely adore and model themself after. She raised them with nothing but love and acceptance taught them everything she knew and Jehan swears she’s an immortal being sent to earth to make everything better and brighter. They often still stay there, her yellow kitchen, the plants and crystals everywhere, her old cat Wheezy, and everything about that place makes is the ultimate source of comfort, inspiration, and joy as is the woman who raised them.
Grantaire had a very rough childhood. His parents were abusive and he doesn’t much like to discuss it. Him and his mom packed up and left his dad when he was a kid, just for them to go back and for both his parents to become very cruel, selfish, destructive people. He ran away when he was 14 and the last he heard his father died and his mother left for somewhere no one knows. He spends a lot of time with Jehan’s aunt though, he likes her a lot. He won’t admit it but she’s very much a mother to him.
Joly grew up with just his dad who was very distant and drawn into himself. Joly recalls how happy the man was, how full of life, how very dad-like he was until his mother died. After that the house was cold and empty, his dad was still very supportive and still loved him but he was also cold and empty. Joly acted out all throughout his teenage years not quite understanding what his dad was going through and was convinced he didn’t care. He didn’t understand until after his accident when his dad saved him and it became very clear. He goes home very frequently to cook with his dad and can see his eyes get brighter and his shoulders get straighter. Joly ended up taking the role of a parent but he’s not upset about it, he loves his dad, and will always be there to take care of him.
Bossuet has very overprotective parents, three of them. He’s been getting hurt and getting into terrible situations his entire life and they just can’t seem to trust he’ll be okay. He’s far away from them but they send monthly care packages with photos, the fire free candles his mom always used growing up, tons of letters, snacks, and a brand new first aid kit. His father especially will go the extra mile and used to call him every single day until his mother got him to calm down, now he just calls once or twice a week. Bossuet always appreciates them and although sometimes felt suffocated by them, he’ll smile every time he gets a package or a phone call and tries to visit them as often as he can.
Feuilly is an orphan. They grew up in foster care, some were good, some weren’t, they moved around too much to feel any bond with teachers or librarians or anybody. To them they never much needed parents they did a damn fine job raising themself and it was fine. They didn’t realize how much they wanted a parent figure until, like Grantaire, they found Jehan and their aunt. They loved her and treated her like a mother but was still dead set they didn’t need a mom or dad. But they finally found loving parents when they met Bahorel. His parents became Feuilly’s long before the idea of them legitimately becoming their in laws ever was thought of.
Bahorel has the biggest rowdiest most loving and caring family you could imagine. His parents have been in love since they were teenagers and decades later are still so fond of each other it used to make Bahorel retch. He grew up with them dancing in the kitchen, cuddling together with him and his siblings on the couch watching movies, and being the ultimate idea of true love. He swears they’re the best parents in the universe, they’re trusting, supportive, and he’s never gotten in trouble for anything as long as he was honest about it. Bahorel says the love his parents have for each other and the love they have for their children is blinding, if you look at them too long it’s like staring at the sun. He’s right too.
#i kept getting carried away with these and had to make myself chill#but i hope you like them#and again i'm so happy you're getting help and being supported!#anon#asks#my hcs
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For the pairing/month match up how about jecourferre in October?
Courferre in October! (This got long, so get ready to keep reading)
There are two very important parts of October that need to be paid attention to, because Courfeyrac and Combeferre are two very different, but blindingly complementary people.
Okay, so we all know Combeferre is a ghost man. The man loves him some ghosts. But the thing that no one really anticipated was how Combeferre’s semester abroad would affect him.
Ferre went to America for the fall semester of the year before, and while it was excruciating for him to be away for all the Amis, he did learn some good old fashioned American customs. Namely, fucking Halloween.
“Courf, I’ve been there. I’ve seen it. The Americans don’t get many things right, but Courf, they do Halloween right.”
Courfeyrac couldn’t help but laugh at his boyfriend. “Ferre, my beautiful bespectacled man, I have not seen that amount of earnestness since you told me you were in love with me.”
Ferre just grinned and pulled his boyfriend in for a kiss. “I do love you. And I fucking love Halloween. And we’re doing it.”
Well, Courf wasn’t one to turn down a fun time, and with this amount of enthusiasm coming from Combeferre about something that involved a party, a fun time was ensured. And he was so definitely getting laid.
Combeferre as usual reserved the backroom of the Musain for the party, made sure that all of his friends knew about it, and were coming, and really honestly spent too much time on the couples costume he planned on him and Courf wearing to the party. He also went to just about every Halloween event Paris had to offer. And of course brought Courf along.
Honestly, it took little convincing.
“Le Manoir de Paris? I’ve always wanted to go!” (They spent the whole time clinging to each other, screaming, and enjoying themselves thoroughly. And when they got back to the apartment, they had enough of an excuse to call it Happy-To-Be-Alive Sex.)
“No, way, how have I not heard of this before? A murder mystery tour around the Latin quarter? I always said in a past life I was a detective!” “Oh you did not, you dork,” (He did not. But Ferre, could have been. He solved the mystery before anyone else.)
“Okay, I never really understood the obsession with vampires, but… now I think I’m catching on.” (Combeferre found out that his boyfriend is very into gelled hair and Tight suits. Who isn’t?)
And the party? Was a hit. Courf and Ferre went as Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter respectively. Courf straightened his hair. Ferre made sure their outfits were perfect to the last detail. He had Jehan personally whittle wands to make them match the characters’ from the movies. They were both wearing quidditch socks. Courf straightened his hair. Those gay bastards made everybody’s Drarry dreams come true.
Everything went according to plan. Enjolras was drunkenly cuddling Grantaire, who was in a debate with Feuilly, Eponine, and Bossuet about who would win in a fight: Godzilla or King Kong. Cosette, Courfeyrac, and Bahorel had gotten together earlier and made Halloween themed snacks that everyone loved. Jehan, Musichetta, Joly, and Montparnasse went to Pere Lachaise to hunt for ghosts (Jehan was hoping for Oscar Wilde).
All in all, everyone went to be “Spooked Out” as Courfeyrac had started to phrase it, and decided to make it an Amis tradition.
Courfeyrac, man buddy, loves the goddamn Fall Spirit that Surrounds October. It is the month of pumpkins and changing leaves and spiced lattes and warm scarves.
Combeferre doesn’t super notice the changing leaves and pumpkins, and he’s more of a “I don’t care if this burns my throat it’s caffeine and I need it in my bloodstream” kind of guy, so those things aren’t really relevant to him. Usually. In October, though, Courfeyrac convinces him to take a look around and stop for a minute to enjoy the scent of pumpkins and decaying leaf matter (”My Beloved Science Man, never describe the park like that to me again.”)
And Courfeyrac took up knitting, just so he could knit all of the Amis scarves. Because he loves the thought of all of his friends walking around Paris to their separate duties, all with his scarves. Combeferre always steals Courf’s so that he can take his smell with him wherever he goes. Courf thinks it’s adorable.
The two go on walks in the parks way more often, bundle up and take themoses of coffee and sit under the trees and study. It’s adorable and they cuddle to stay warm. Honestly, don’t get me started on their fall picnics.
I’ve written way too much. But I got excited. Courferre in October!
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Clone Wars Kidnapped
Also, yeah how do you
follow up an episode like that?
Also isn’t this like the
second kidnapped episode?
Oh
You know we actually needed the levity so that I am completely OK with the saving a
thing plot,
Gives time to breathe-
Ho-nest,
This place looks pretty
neat,
[Though they still knowingly enabled
Tox be
hav-ior]
This is the equivalent of someone ditch
-ing productivity,
And att
-em
pt
Ing
To
Go
Straight
To
creat-iv-ity
Before
anything’s
set up,]
And I should really be careful
not
to get distracted by the pretty lights,
Wa-
rr
ior-
Well least
tox
Whe
lp,
In-
Sti
gators
,
Fe
ck,
-
Oh hey that
war we enabl
-ed
Whelp
Okay, seriously who is that guy?
(Normally I wouldn’t be so nervous
(but the last few episodes
Not Krell
The under water
One)
Introduced a guy of a
random species that we have never heard or seen of
and he died before we ever did,
So,
I’m
a
Little
Nervous
,
(I like different
species,)
His design
seems
nice
...
Neu
tral.
Yet we won’t assume the amount of
accoun-
tability necessary to
enforce it
Don’t get
me wrong;
I don’t want an infinity war
But if you enable, be prepared for the consequences and/or to push it back, (what
ever
You
Left,)
Whenever
it comes for your life,
For the rest of it,
(Or until you snap and
hold it accountable,)
Pro-tection
Usual spiel
but it works.
You know that would’ve worked really well with overinvolved
positivity,
Though at this point it’s pretty clear they are going for the clear-cut
Jedi- are
Posit
Ive
Ly
Over-
Involv
e
-d-
(Sith - negative)
And more so
general
“everyone is a
shithead,”
Kinda
Vibe.
Which is perfectly fine,
Why?
That’s a lot
[also never mind with the
- warning - or get into lines,]
Obi-Wan looks really young-er
in the scene for some reason
-His face
-it’s too smooth
- and are his eyes a bit bigger?
10
Also yeah they specifically told us not to get involved and that they were going to do it on their own
I-n.
Ia
tiv
e
But screw that
“Let’s
escalate the situation!”
Despite that being literally what the dude
fears and probably
his nightmares
[screw respecting other adult’(s) initia
tive]
I know Dooku is implied to be really feckin tox also
But talk means nothing
Dude has to have the actions
Attempt it on himself and decide what to do for
himself,
He’s decided to enable,
Ain’t nothing
that can be done
about that,
[What
was that look?
[also did Obi-Wan not ask what happened
down there?]
Great
Time for
warfare
For the Jedi that can’t take a
“no,”
For an
an
-swer
Gr
-e
a-t
-
?
Voice
-act
-ing
-
People
Shield
-
What,
I’ve-
Watch
-ed
The
Watton
Boar
-
Arc-
-
-Battle
Yeah but it’s
-also
pretty
bullshit
- (when have the separatist ever respected the Gen
eva convention?)
Rex-
Has a
Feck’in
Point
I
(Also that doesn’t tell them anything this could be
basic
clankers
when no
in fact they are commando droids
)
Ana
Kin’s
Voice
De-eper?
Com
-man
do-
[I have a feeling they’re really trying to contest
the we have no fig
-h-ters)
Lin
e-
-
A-g
ain-
O-h
Sir,
Oh,
,
Also, how?
But also
ok that
guy,
Surprisingly,
calm
ly
spoken-
So this could make a great scene
contrasting Obi- won’s I believe
moral nature,
With another strategist that seems to be believing some kind of
chivalry
[Also, OH SHIT,
is that where they’re keeping the
pris
oners,
Whelp
Anakin is a
dick to
holograms,
Seriously
you could’ve
just turned it off,
[if you had news
or opinion to share
?)-
Ok, where the
fuck?
[Don’t, get me wrong I know Anakin,
was an ex slave,
Everything else
is new..
.
Including his
rage towards it,
Me,
Hey, they’re being smart
about this,
-
Up-
s-
et-
Yes,
thank you,
did I miss
something?
P-ast
Doesn’t
justify any of this
bullshit. .
I
mean,
Literally no one
is smarter
than anyone else
So
Ana
Kin,
,
OK but that’s a whole different species
and/or a group
- -
this is not “past”
this is I just hate feck
-ing
sl-av
er s
-
And possibly un-vented
anger at trauma-
-
Either way pretty damn
va
-lid
-
Dis-
trust
-
Whe-
Oka-y
,
I don’t-
Also is that an animal or
sentient?
- A game
I find myself playing
to no
One
‘s
Cha
-grin-
-,
Oh
Arro
gan
-c-
e
Ah- tak
e?
,
Also he has a
non-evil
pet
-
That’s kinda
cute
But also kinda sad,
Hint,ing
at the fact
Dude was probably intended to be some kind of
animal
focus
(Someone who works around or just generally likes animals - special
ity)
Before he went
corrupt
(Showing some
interest in keeping them out of the battlefield,
And
Fond-ness)
Or this could just be a short han
d-e
d symbolism
For
slavery
and
grooming
-
Both
-work
-
Do
-Tell
-
[oh yeah
dude totally gave away his plan,]
Despite Obi-Wan almost clearly not being
in earshot
Nice interaction
* introduction
Also
,doesn’t he
already know,
Holo-gra
-m
-
Formal
in-
tro
duc-
tions
-
Are
Nice,
-
Er-
Seriously what is up with
these two
people?
Also why did dude
growl?
For people that look like cats
they sure act like dogs
(Bor- d
-er)
(Nothing wrong with that-
just-
curious-
“
-i
How?
Also they’re just really shout-ing their
plans out here
aren’t they?
S-u
-rr
en-
der-
-
Obi- won
still playing
along..
——
W-help
-
He
gave
him
a
chance
-
Whelp-
O-k
Honestly he’s acting pretty calm and
diff-erent-ly characterized,
The Kenobi we know wouldn’t raise
a hand to help even himself
(In ani.)
Also
I’m surprised Aniken hasn’t stumbled across anything by
now,
Thought that would be the
crutch
of the narr-ative tension in the
office,
But
Aight
,
Calling the chips early is completely fine I will never have an issue with chara-
ter
-(s-
acting slightly smarter than expected,
Though wish Anakin had shown some kind of
initia-
tive-
Like the stories telling us that he’s really
pumped up
“about
the
whole
slave
thing,”
. . .
But has just found
nada when it comes down to
rescuing the slaves,
Or just finding any hints about this
oper
-ation
in general,
To summarize;
What the heck has Aniken been doing the last minute
and a half
~
?
No-thing
[like if everyone had told him to chill due to his
clear aggression
believe he caused some harm
in his rage,
And sent
Ahsoka
in-stead
That would make a lot
more sense,
[and make up Obi- wan look like less of a
Irrational Dick
By sh(ar-ing) Anakin‘s backstory
without any permission
or reason,
While there
he might have to explain to
Ahsoka
why he’s sending her
and not Anakin,]
Just-
Writer
Th-
ough
-t-
-
Treat-
ment
-
“ You have broken
through my
defenses,”
Emotionally
or
...
physically?
. .
Never
mind-
Would’ve
been nice
if someone actually took him up on that
offer
-
(Like some villain(/enabler) is like you know what my job sucks,
my boss sucks, I could really use an
nap...
Sure]
..
They were just standing there
...
doing nothing,
Like,
Dude literally just said
there were bombs planted all over the city,
And, no one’s in a ru-sh
to fix that-
Or use them to find the
kidnapped people..
[I
mean
fair
...
but
geez.
Colo
-nists,
Again,
where are they?
. . .
You supposedly sent Anakin to find
- them but we haven’t seen anything
-
Also yeah the dude is totally going to give up
his only bargaining
chip
. . .
After being
out gunn
-ed-
-
Well
-
Also you have one button that only activate(s
one mine?
Like did you, set that up just for the purpose of
in-timi
dating people
Also congrats
you likely threw away
your only bargaining chip
-
because from his point of view
the explosion already went off-
-
And he doesn’t know that you had one
specific button just for that
one mine-
-
(Like it
doesn’t sound that loud but he could’ve gotten
hear-ing probl-em (s-) from the
near- by
explosions,
)
We-
ll-
“Col-on-ists,”
Oh
good thing you told him after you destroy-ed the
thing-
And he didn’t go into attack mode and you have a light saber press-ed to your throat-
dumb
I’m sorry but that’s just so adorable
Look
at
it;
Man like(s soft squishy things and
he doesn’t seem to be
hurt
ing-
-it,
Like,
How
?
Also, did
no one check
for
that
shit?
Like,
No-
Me-
dic
Wh-
el
p-
Bo-
Several people
-just died
And he
comforts the
robot..
.
Dick
Also, Maybe
It’s be
cause
Cody
is
Obi-Wan’s
Gen.
(Generation
or
General)
Doesn’t
make much
of a
dif-ference?
-
That
this
flies?
(I mean I can
understand him not giving
too much of a heck,
Due to this being a war
caused by this guys’
Gen,
But
seriously,)
Also yeah
kinda
,dick
,
Screw
medical
attention,
Well,
That’s a lot of faith
for a whole
lot a
nothing,
Also let’s go do the thing
we were supposed to be doing
this entire time,
(I think)
My brain started going numb and I half paid
attention
-
Oh, wait
now we’re getting into the back
story?
After they’re on the planet
Without any
pre-emption?
-Er
My brain
cells
are
asleep,
-
Al
-ive
-
Seriously, what is up with the
-bird
thing,
(I really hope
it factors into his character)
Or is brought up
Frust-
trat-
Ion
“Zy,”
Dude they’re slave traders
I really don’t think
you want to do that
(Just
a
thought)
Also maybe
suggest
trading
him some
exotic animals,
Dude seems to have a pen
-chant
And he seems to treat them
re-
lati
vely
well,
(There
are some in cages but that just seems to be for
transport,
)
- no I thought you should ever take animals
out of a pre-
ferr
ed
Safe climate
But he could have one set up
abet a smaller one,
Wha?
(The
voice acting
there
was
weird,)
Also, really?
That’s the
competition?
(Is there ever a tradition..
That isn’t fighting?)
Also, okay,
but is it like some kind of style of fighting?
(I swear he you challenges him to sword fighting.)
Then again Zy-
ger-
Ian-
fighting-
Dif-ferent rules
could be interesting
Possibly establish
Obi-Wan
as
a
well traveled
man,
(So long as he isn’t allowed to use his
feck -in light saber,
-)
(Which
Anakin
hasn’t
been
doing
at all,
Also lower
ed risks
are nice,
Again, not saying anything about
deactivating em,
Also what the fuck is with that guy’s
facial
expressions,
Like ever since that moment
it has gone
insane,
(As in I can’t for my life
read what they’re trying to express,
And that is the closest
translation;
I can come up with,
Never
mind
-
he’s an asshole
-
Even th-
Screw
It
(The
logic
is not on
the high setting
with this one.”
Any way,
Per-
That’s
[do you know how back when I was revie-
wing the movie I thought about how the escalation one from
1 to 10 and the characterization switched on a dime?
-Not to
insult,
But this is starting to feel a lot like
that-
My brain already very checked out at this
point-
Because I
really
don’t
need
it for
this-
-
W-
Constant
Characteri-zation?!
What-
[Excuse me while I sit over here drinking my
‘wtf just happened,’
juice
You know
when I was reviewing (Earlier) scenes
like this;
I used to give it somewhat of a pass
saying;
(Some
thing
along
the
lines
of)
Well people change on a dime,
Which I’m starting to realize
getting further into this;
Is that you need some kind of sentiment
Or pre-
-empt
To
Connect
Those
Thoughts
-
The
eyes
need
to
narrow
-
The
body
language
needs
to
change
-
The
music
(perhaps)
a subtle
change in tone;
-
It can’t change on
that much of a dime
-
I
don’t
need
a
lot;
Just some kind of indication about what the
feck just happened,
-
Because otherwise it’s just
spaghetti
-
Like I’m sorry
but it’s true-
-
The expressions before were completely unreadable
and down
right-
unhuman,
There was no word
,cues to indicate anything
And the music
which could’ve been a brief
Cue,
Of whether this is supposed to be
abrupt or
instigated,
Well I don’t,
think there is any,
Fix scen;
e
This guy smirks, possibly chuckling, the bird leaving his
arm-, possibly pre-facing it with, “ well then, let’s
be-gin,” or a body posture is simply leaning in before
pouncing,
Telling me
this is part of the plan,
And that’s Zygrians value a more wild style of fighting with the element of surprise
being
emphasiz
ed-
Which makes sense considering what seems to be a
hunting
focus,
With snark following up either confirming or
denying,
That as true
(Or
False)
That his actions were
prec-
edent-
ed
or
not,
As it stands,
There was no
Cue
And I’m
completely
lost.
. . .
Whel
-p
Well that was a bunch of nothing
. . .
Which is a shame because it had a lot of good
subjects to focus on, Slavery, the difference between Wild and Order, tam-ing, groom-
Ing,
Cap-
tivity
-
The concept of an invasive species,
Unfortunately the writing is so inconsistent,
And generally
poor,
That it can’t carry a beat for longer than a few
min-utes
Well I’ve noticeably praised the attempt to take on a higher intensity material
That doesn’t give an
excuse for the apparent drop in quality
Often; i’ve said that
stupid villains are fine
However
the thing that often irritates me
in those episodes;
Isn’t that the villain’s
Stupid
It’s the lack of
self-awareness
(Not in the poking
fun of one’s
self
way)
Is that it isn’t
framed that way,
(No snark,
very little realistic the consequences without drawing attention to it,
And very little change
except the
villain is now Stupider
Though it attempts to keep the same dramatic tension
and stakes)
In sum
-mary:
While I think this episode had a lot of interesting concepts to work with they will unfortunately
Wasted
By the episode lack of commitment, consistency, and constant characterization,
Most
notably;
- Anakin’s resent
-ment
Of
slavery
(His care of it turns off and on like a light switch and his intensity
varies)
Functioning less like a Berzerk/.
accountability button
(Mild
Responsibility)
And
more
like
an
excuse
to have him
flip his lid,
Make
odd
facial
expressions,
And generally put, shout put emphasis In a nonsensical bordering on
inhumane way
What seems to be a disturbing trend (with the characters
;)
Specifically the
Zygarian
here
And
Ani
-The
difference
between
wild and tamed;
Along with a constant theme of slavery,
It’s paired with the constant imagery
of animals in cages
Which would be fine if it was actually presented as an
excessive detail,
But the focus is put on it and nothing ever seems to come of it
(Almost as if it’s expected that just by having
it there, the motif comes with it)
Which no
Animals in cages and...
What?
Like, I have an idea
what they’re trying to hint at,
But until
the story commits;
“These animals
are very much like you,”
Then it remains in
limbo,
As wasted time
And wasted
emphasis,
-
The Zy-
Gar
Ian
(s)
backstory;
Note
this works off another point
about captivity,
Now, from the little bits, I could get from the conversation;
The Republic
inter
fer
r
e
d,
Note; this seems to be a pretty big deal
The antagonist
esp
ecially
affec
t-
e-d
By
It,
But we never learn much about it
or him
(How it affected)
Yeah he re-peats
Some
po-ints;
But it’s never elaborate-
d on
What exactly
hap-pened to him?
What exactly
hap-pened with the conflict?
How?
To be more
precise;
This presents the idea of a rather fas-
cin-
at
ing
conflict about the over- involve-ment of an outside species into
a
Nother’s
Planet
-
And I don’t think it really
utilizes it
Drop
ping it almost instantly,
For an almost emotion-
less
fi-
gh
t,
Where are dude repeats ‘they were happy,
And generally everything except “I”
(How he was affected)
Or any authentic emotion
Just unread
able
inhumane
expressions
. . .
Not much in the way of themes,
motifs,
Or anything of
real
sub-
stance-
-
Sub
Category;
The clones got injured in an
attack;
This is not treated with any sort of
heaviness
-
Or even note
(Nor to the status/
theme of captiv-
ity- or
Sta
Tus
In
The
Empire-)
Or
represen-tation
of
order,
(And is quite point blank pointless)
Not to speak of the ending where the Anakin is
almost point-blank informed
That the captives are being held on
Ty-
Ger
ia/
By the Ty-
ger-ians
Po-int being;
This is pretty subst
antless
Sn
-ack,
That lacks any kind of consis
tence
- And isn’t.
worth the
watch,
(With
nothing
set up)
(Might’ve wanted to go with an
R2-D2/ (CpO?) episode)
Work on that tone
first
Before trying anything serious,
With that robots scream of absolute terror
upon its death..
0 notes
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