Ce Grand(R) Siècle

Citoyens, le dix-neuvième siècle est grand, mais le vingtième siècle sera un Coffee Shop AU (26)

[grand-r-siecle]

Enjoltaire Halloween Through The Years

(A companion to this)

Year One: Grantaire tries

Enjolras and Grantaire meet in November of freshman year, so by the time they celebrate their first Halloween together (not together together, just at the same party, with the same friends, pitching in for the same bottles of frankly disgusting cheap-ass vodka), they’ve known each other for almost a year. 

Enjolras does not exactly have a costume, but he is wearing a dark shirt and some fake blood he threw on last-minute.

Grantaire, on the other hand, has been going over his costume for the past two weeks. Despite this, he’s not entirely sure what he is aming for. He hopes Enjolras will be involved in his evening somehow. He doesn’t want to presume.

He doesn’t exactly know how, but midnight finds him standing in the dim lights of Joly’s living room dressed as a sort of sexy Che Guevara.

He actually has a whole justification his costume, all about postmodern political iconography, and irony, and the joys of hitting on would-be-edgy soft-core liberals. 

He forgets all of it entirely when he bumps into Enjolras.

Enjolras wants to point out that you have to be really stupid to go sleeveless in late October. He wants to grasp Grantaire by the shoulders to better convey his indignation at what is surely a mockery of his politics. He wants to take that ridiculous berret off Grantaire, wants to mess up his hair just to show him.

Seguir leyendo

[nellygwyn]

Fanny Burney was one of Jane Austen's favourite late eighteenth century novelists and Jane was subscribed to Burney's work from her teen years. Look at these lines from Burney's Cecilia:

“The whole of this unfortunate business,” said Dr Lyster, “has been the result of PRIDE and PREJUDICE. Your uncle, the Dean, began it, by his arbitrary will, as if an ordinance of his own could arrest the course of nature! and as if he had power to keep alive, by the loan of a name, a family in the male branch already extinct. Your father, Mr Mortimer, continued it with the same self-partiality, preferring the wretched gratification of tickling his ear with a favourite sound, to the solid happiness of his son with a rich and deserving wife. Yet this, however, remember; if to PRIDE and PREJUDICE you owe your miseries, so wonderfully is good and evil balanced, that to PRIDE and PREJUDICE you will also owe their termination: for all that I could say to Mr Delvile, either of reasoning or entreaty — and I said all I could suggest, and I suggested all a man need wish to hear — was totally thrown away, till I pointed out to him his own disgrace, in having a daughter-in-law immured in these mean lodgings!"

[nellygwyn]

““I have the honour to be quite of your Lordship’s opinion,” said Mr. Lovel, looking maliciously at Mrs. Selwyn, “for I have an insuperable aversion to strength, either of body or mind, in a female.” “Faith, and so have I,” said Mr. Coverley; “for egad I’d as soon see a woman chop wood, as hear her chop logic.” “So would every man in his senses,” said Lord Merton; “for a woman wants nothing to recommend her but beauty and good nature; in every thing else she is either impertinent or unnatural. For my part, deuce take me if ever I wish to hear a word of sense from a woman as long as I live!” “It has always been agreed,” said Mrs. Selwyn, looking round her with the utmost contempt, “that no man ought to be connected with a woman whose understanding is superior to his own. Now I very much fear, that to accommodate all this good company, according to such a rule, would be utterly impracticable, unless we should chuse subjects from Swift’s hospital of idiots.””

— Possibly my favourite moment in Evelina, written by Fanny Burney in 1778.

[enjolras-is-celibate]

Episode 17: The Agony of Death

https://youtu.be/j2BxrH6z9Qc

I don’t have much to say other than Les Amis has taken up a lot of the last year of my life and I’m happy we can see the end of this journey together.

[captainflirt]

Illustrated fragment of the sea journal of the ship “Lloyd” to Dominica, West Indies, January 1771

[marius-new-hat-and-coat]

Oh to be a Victorian gentleman who runs away from his debts and eats all the muffins at teatime

[lenezdansleruisseau]

Why Feuilly cares about Italy or “a lot of words to explain Hugo’s crush on Garibaldi”- part 4.2

Hi everyone! I’m officially back *trumpets play a funny song* and with me, it’s back also my niche history corner for everyone interested in answering the question: why did Hugo care about Italian politics? 

My friends this is THE chapter, the chapter everyone was waiting for, the chapter that starts to finally explain the title of this series of little history lessons: yes, you guessed it, it’s about Giuseppe Garibaldi.

First of all though, if someone has no idea of what I’m talking about because this is the first time they see me posting anything like this: here, here, here and here you can find the first four parts. 

If you’re here just for the main man, Garibaldi, or you just don’t have time to read the other four parts, just a quick reminder: the Kingdom of Sardinia, Piemonte and Savoy are the same thing (more or less, it’s a bit complicated, but this way you’ll follow better the events). 

And finally a disclaimer: Garibaldi is a HUGE figure in the history of Italian independence, he is the pinnacle of Italian heroism and he remains on a pedestal of bravery and glory. And he was kind of an incredible figure, I mean I’m not surprised in the least that both Hugo and Dumas LOVED him, he was everything they liked in just one person: (sorry for the spoilers!) he had been a sailor, he was in a secret society, he had been a corsair, fought in, at least, three war of independence, changed identity too many times to be counted, had a romantic and tragic love story started with love-at-first-sight first meeting, he had been a factory worker, he freed slaves, he insulted kings and he was a fervent republican. 

But as we well know, and Hugo himself in the book we are all here to analyze in its every detail, no man is perfect and Garibaldi certainly wasn’t. He was better than most, but not perfect. 

Why am I saying this? Because I’m not a historian and I’m not perfect either so it can be that some part could be more pro-Garibaldi than they should be, I tried my best though! 

The last disclaimer then I’ll start, I swear: there is a part about Brasilian history. Do I know a lot about Brasilian history? Unfortunately not! Did I try to research enough not to say anything really stupid? Yep! Still, if someone wants to expand on that subject or correct me or specify something I couldn’t be happier! 

And now let’s begin! 

Seguir leyendo

[hellsdemonictrinity]

Angst/Fluff Prompt List Part 2

The first one was a big hit, so I hope you’re ready for a second one! These can work with ANY fandom! Reblog if you wish! (Please give credit, to where credit is due <3)!

“I need you.”

“You’re family.”

“I care about you.”

“Can I join you.”

“You made your choice.”

“This isn’t fair!”

“How could you do this?”

“Do you hate me?”

“I could never leave you behind.”

“Come with me.”

“That’s sweet.”

“You look great.”

“Where are you going?”

“That’s new.”

“Let me help you.”

“Drop the attitude.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’ve got you.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t seem like yourself tonight.”

“Do you like it?”

“You smell nice.”

“They didn’t deserve you.”

“I trust you, do you trust me?”

“Karma is a bitch.”

“What the hell?”

“Son of a bitch.”

“I hope your day gets better.”

“I’m here if you need to talk.”

“Are you listening to me?”

“Sorry.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“How do I look?”

“Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.”

“What is this about?”

“You look like hell.”

“I haven’t seen you in a few days.”

“It’s good to see you.”

“You know, you can stay if you want to.”

“I’m not pissed, I’m hurt.”

“Truth hurts, doesn’t it?”

“I almost feel bad for you.”

“What you did was stupid.”

“No.  You listen to me.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I know you’re scared.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“You’re not helping.”

“It’s not safe here.”

“You should leave.”

“Everything is fine.”

“I’ll keep you safe.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Just go away.”

“You don’t have to act like you’re okay.”

“I’m only here to help.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”

“Thanks for nothing.”

“I’m done.”

“You think that this is easy for me?”

“I hate seeing you like this.”

“You make me so mad.”

“I brought you dinner.”

“Say what?”

“You’ll be fine.”

“You’ve got me on your side.”

“I don’t like you…. I love you.”

“I don’t want you… I need you.”

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s okay to cry.”

“I can tell you’re lying.”

“You’re in danger.”

“You deserve better.”

“You’ve changed.”

“I think I’m in trouble.”

“You always find a way to surprise me.”

“You did what you had to do.”

“You have no idea.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“This is just great.”

“You’re here late.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“I wanted to apologize.”

“It’s just you and me.”

“I’m just looking out for you.”

“I never meant to fall in love with you, I just did.”

“Calm down.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Oh come on.”

“No one is perfect.”

“You’ve been quiet.”

“What did you just say?”

“I’ll always be there for you.”

“Fair enough.”

“When you fall, I’ll always be right there to catch you.”

“I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

“You’re not crazy.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“I hope you’re happy.”

“You’re the only person I wanted to be with tonight.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“You believe me, don’t you?”

“Regardless of what they think, I know you’re an amazing person.”

“Shhh…  You need to be quiet.”

“Fuck you!”

“You don’t even know me.”

[grand-r-siecle]

You'd think Feuilly assembled ahis own furniture, but you'd be wrong. It was Bahorel and Enjolras, while Courfeyrac took him put for coffee.

Feuilly comes back and finds B and E standing in his living room, hair sticking oit everywhere, screws in hand, 'Feuilly Fan Club' t-shirts on and a few mysteriously leftover screwbolts hidden behind their back.

[armacheart]

it felt sincere and significant

finally painted the old boy for @grand-r-siecle

[alicedrawslesmis]

Why We'd Be Better Off if Napoleon Never Lost at Waterloo

On the bicentennial of the most famous battle in world history, a distinguished historian looks at what could have been

I think the Smithsonian was taken over by the ghost of Victor Hugo

[akallabeth-joie]

Marius: *shares this to the ABC group chat* :D

Combeferre: We’d be even better off without an autocratic government.

Enjolras: Reconciling the legal codes was laudable, but Bunoaparte betrayed my mother the Republic. In the modern age, a more equitable form of government than kings or emperors needed.

Marius: …

Courfeyrac: Charles X was arguably worse.

Enjolras: If you’re starting this argument with Ferre again, please take it to a private chat.

Courfeyrac: ;)

Courfeyrac: Gtg, Marius’s yelling something out the window.

Bahorel: *links to ABBA’s “Waterloo”*

Jehan Prouvaire: Excellent choice! *dancing emojis*

Bossuet L'aigle: *links to the Waterloo number from Mama Mia II*

Joly: That was worth all the trouble we got into.

Grantaire: Thank you, thank you. Fine choreography, if I don’t say it myself.

Feuilly: Late to the discussion–just got off work. See attached document for how the anti-Napoleon backlash undermined popular government movements in central Europe.

[aporeticelenchus]

I got an unexpected note on hac Amor hac Liber today (congratulations on finding that old post?) and it made me remember just how good a Grantaire poem Propertius 1.3 is (where I stole the title from).

The narrator rolls in super late, super drunk, finds his girlfriend has fallen asleep waiting for him. He makes lots of convoluted classical allusions, plays with her hair, and tries to placate her with gifts of fruit. (She wakes up and is angrily Dissapointed at him.)

The whole theme and tone is just so perfectly Grantaire. Whoops, sorry I got drunk and played dominos all night, please enjoy this apple.

[aporeticelenchus]

I.3

Like the maid of Cnossus as in a swoon she lay on the deserted shore when Theseus’ ship sailed away; like Cepheus’ daughter Andromeda as she rested in her first slumber on her release from the rugged cliff; no less like the Thracian bacchant, exhausted after incessant dances, when she collapses on the grassy bank of the Apidanuseven, so did Cynthia seem to me to breathe a gentle repose, her head pillowed on a cushion of her hands, when home I came dragging footsteps unsteadied by much wine and the slaves were shaking their dying torches in the far-gone night.

Not yet were all my senses gone, and I tried by leaning gently on the couch to reach her; and, although seized with a double passion, for the two inexorable gods, on this side Love, on that Bacchus, were urging me to edge my arm deftly beneath her and try her as she lay, and, bringing up my hand, to steal belated kisses, yet I did not venture to disturb my lady’s peace, fearing the chidings of a cruelty I had tasted before; but I remained rooted with eyes intent upon her, like those of Argus upon the strange horns of Inachus’ child.

And now I was taking off the garlands from my brow and arranging them about your temples, Cynthia; and now I took pleasure in building up your fallen locks, then with hollowed palms I stealthily gave you apples. But all these gifts I was bestowing on ungrateful sleep, gifts which repeatedly rolled down from your lap; and when from time to time you stirred and heaved a sigh, I held my breath, believing in a vain divination, for I feared lest some nightmare be bringing you fantastic terrors, and a phantom lover forcing you to yield to him against your will.

At length the moon hurrying by the parted shutters, the officious moon with light that would fain have stayed, opened with its gentle beams Cynthia’s fast-closed eyes. Then, with elbow propped on the soft couch, she cried: ‘Has another’s scorn then at last brought you to my bed, expelling you from doors closed in your face? For where have you spent the long hours of the night which was due me, you who come, ah me, exhausted, when the stars are driven from the sky? Oh, may you spend nights like these, you villain, such as you are always compelling poor me to endure!

‘For now I was beguiling sleep by spinning crimson thread, and now in my weariness by music of Orpheus’ lyre; and sometimes, all forlorn, I softly complained to myself that in unmarried love waiting is often long: till Sleep with soothing wings overcame my exhausted body. That was my weeping’s last concern.’

- trans. G. P. Goold

[grand-r-siecle]

Had he lived long enough to enjoy it, Grantaire would have been endlessly amused by Lisztomania

[aporeticelenchus]

For the kissing meme: jealous kiss with e/r?

Enjolras’ movements were rigid as Grantaire led him out onto the dance floor. Grantaire didn’t envy him the task of moving in the voluminous dress they’d chosen to conceal his figure, nor that of remembering all the steps of the dance in reverse – not that he knew them well to begin with. Enjolras’ natural grace and quick intelligence could compensate for a great deal, but Grantaire doubted it would make him much of a dancer under such circumstances.

As they took their positions, Enjolras glanced conspicuously over Grantaire’s shoulder for at least the third time, lips pulling into a look of cold disdain Grantaire knew all too well. At least tonight it wasn’t aimed at him. Yet.

Grantaire sighed with all the melodrama at his disposal. “I see some young gallant has caught your eye; you are breaking my poor heart. What might your adoring fiancé do to win your attentions again?” Ah, there it was, that look fixed on him. Grantaire’s breath briefly abandoned him. He leaned in as if to whisper words of love, voice quiet enough not to carry. “I thought your contact wasn’t supposed to show for another half hour at least.” Grantaire maintained that a ball was a stupid place for a clandestine meeting – at least a clandestine meeting of the sort Enjolras engaged in – as there was always a good chance one party would have trouble gaining entrance and be forced to, say, resort to disguising himself as the female guest and plus one of a friend with better social connections and fewer warrants for his arrest.

“He isn’t.” Enjolras took the first few steps of the dance along with Grantaire, hands and body stiff but more or less correct. He looked over Grantaire’s shoulder again. “That woman has been making eyes at you all evening.”

Grantaire missed the next step. Enjolras deftly avoided stepping on his toes. “What?”

This time Enjolras’ look was one of long-suffering endurance. “You can’t have failed to notice.” In Grantaire’s defense, it was hard to notice anyone else with Enjolras to look at. Also in Grantaire’s defense: Enjolras was almost certainly wrong. Perspicacity and clear sight in manners of the heart were not numbered among Enjolras’ many talents – much to Grantaire’s continual frustration and relief.

“Perhaps she’s looking at you,” said Grantaire, “composing Sapphic stanzas in her head in honor of your great beauty and greater sleeves.”

Enjolras ignored him. “It’s shameless behavior. How can a woman flirt with a man in front of his fiancée?”

Grantaire had to guide Enjolras through the next few steps, turning them both deftly around the floor. “You do remember that I am not – for my many sins – in fact engaged? Least of all to you?”

“She doesn’t know that.”

“When you are declared Imperator of France you may institute all the morality reforms you like; you will find Paris a city of base brick and leave it a city of pure and rarefied marble.” Enjolras actually scowled at that, which Grantaire counted as a success until he saw that Enjolras’ gaze had once more strayed over his shoulder. He sighed.

The rest of the dance passed by in a similar fashion, though by the end Enjolras’ face took on at turns a contemplative and determined look. As the final steps were drawing to a close, Enjolras cast one last meaningful look onto the floor and then, with tender care, placed his hand on Grantaire’s shoulder and kissed his cheek.

Grantaire tripped and went down in the middle of the floor.

[grand-r-siecle]

I'd like to formally thank D Tennant and M Sheen giving us Crowley and Aziraphale making pouty faces at each other... repeatedly

[igtfbaef]

Here’s a prospect I’ve never considered before, even though I should have: Jean Valjean and Eponine suddenly bonding post Marius and Cosette getting together.  Jean Valjean having someone to check in on, and Eponine having someone caring for her without judgement. Them finding an outlet in each other, and being less lonely, being more able to wholeheartedly feel happy for Marius and Cosette.

[kanjabeto-deactivated20180421]

Quickfire with Tribeca Shortlist