revolutionary thought

~Between the logic of revolution and its philosophy, there is this difference, that its logic can lead to war, while its philosophy can only end in peace~

[rosebird-deactivated20190419]

OH SHIT CINDER IS THE ONE WITH THE FLAMES BUT THE ONLY ONE THAT IS BURNING PEOPLE IS RAVEN

[ratheralark]

on the whole, I think the translations/adaptations of the Big Ballads in Les Mis are really strong, or at least understandable, but I will say that revisiting French On My Own/Mon Histoire– it does a much better job of conveying that Eponine…. isn’t really talking about Marius, and knows it 

[ratheralark]

To explain… If anyone hasn’t heard it, it’s here (with lyrics).

I think it’s great throughout, but the key difference is really the setup: 

Mon histoire  C'est un rêve qui commence Dans les pages D'un conte de mon enfance Les yeux fermés Mon prince enfin m'enlace…

(my story is a dream that begins in the pages of a tale from my childhood eyes closed, my prince finally takes me in his arms…) 

Having these as the opening lines makes it so much clearer that it’s not really Marius she’s fantasizing about, as such. Obviously “On My Own” never says his name, but there’s no other person or idea introduced for us to associate the song’s “him” with. But by introducing the idea of the prince, that’s what the rest of the fantasy gets linked to– that becomes who we picture when she refers to the unnamed “him”– and that makes it clearer that the point is the fantasy, not the man it’s about. The idea of a prince, of someone to hold her and walk with her, a role that even she recognizes she has assigned to Marius only because he’s the person she’s got to hand. 

[sarah531-deactivated20180901]

Look, I’m not saying that Victor Hugo was listening to Bon Jovi’s We Weren’t Born To Follow when writing Les Mis. I’m just saying it’s a possibility, is all.

[prema-ja]

[itsrevolutionarythought]

Scenes I wish to be in the new BBC Les Miserables series:

- The one where Bossuet is defending Marius from beeing kicked out of University, even he doesn’t know him

- The one where Fantine and her “Friends” where left by their “Boyfriends”. We need some Felix Tholomyes in general.

- The one where Enjolras is shooting Claquesous at the barricade.

- The one where M. Mabeuf told Marius about his father .

- The one where Enjolras is sending the Amis out to visit several Places in Paris and Grantaire wants to prove himself but fails. again.

- The one where M. Thenardiere is saving Marius father.

- The one where Bahorel is talking about his laughing Mistress.

- The “To be Free!” one.

- The one where Eponine and Azelma are out to deliver those letters.

- The one where Marius finds a Handkerchief on the bank in the Parc de Luxembourg and thinks it’s Cosettes ( there is U.F. stitched on it and he imagines that Cosettes name is Ursule). He carrys it around everywhere, smells it and sleeps with it. In the End he discovers that the Handkerchief is actually Valjeans. 

- The one where M. Mabeuf rises the Flagg and dies at the Barricade.

- The death of Jean “Jeahn” Prouvaire.

- The enormous speech of Combeferre at the Barricade.

- More of the Patron Minette in general!

- Some of Courfeyrac and Marius living together.

- Some Gavroche and Bahorel at the Barricade.

- Some more Background on Bishop Myriel (I mean its such a huge part of the brick)

- So many more....

(no specific order)

[angeolras]

a very self indulgent canon era or book!enjolras that i wasted a day on

[alicedrawslesmis]

The Character Wardrobe Meme #3

(stole it from a vintage fashion illustration)

(he’s got a really long neck)

(not sorry)

[siristvantoth]

Enjolras/Combeferre, an au ~in the past~

June, 1358

By the time Combeferre finished reading the missive, theexpression on his face was deeply pensive. Enjolras waited a few moments, butwhen he did not speak, moved to lay a hand on his shoulder, looking over theunfamiliar mess of letters and straining to divine any meaning from them. “Whatdoes it say?” he asked, and only then did Combeferre look up at him.

“It’s an entreaty,” said Combeferre, setting the parchmentdown at last. “It asks for you specifically. The king wishes you to go to him.He’d like to discuss terms for peace.”

“Peace?” Enjolras raised his eyebrows. He thought of hismen, the thousands of them that had come together to fight for liberty, for aworld without distinction based on nobility. He thought of their bravery, theirunified spirit, and the oaths – freely proclaimed – they’d sworn to fight tothe death rather than bow before another petty noble and the brigands calledknights at his employ. “I do not think whatever concept of ‘peace’ he has inmind promises anything we can accept.”

Oddly, Combeferre seemed to relax at that. “Likely not.” He gesturedfor Enjolras to sit, and he did so, just across from Combeferre on the floor ofhis tent. “Shall I scribe you something in reply? ‘No peace but the peace ofliberty can sate our hearts’? Well, you will say it better than I.” He lookedalmost cheerful, and attentive as ever as he set out his ink and quill.

Enjolras thought again of his men, their generous souls andcourageous hearts, their bold words and bolder deeds. He thought of the strainthat some of them were enduring, the hunger that likely lay ahead. They hadsupport enough from the villages to keep them fed for now, but what in daysahead? How long could a force of thousands exist alone? He thought of the armyof nobles and mercenaries that had amassed, that were waiting to destroy them.Even if they survived, if they won the day, how many lives would be lost? Ifthere were even a chance at avoiding such bloodshed…

“No.” Enjolras shook his head. “No, I must go to him.”

At once, the cheer vanished from Combeferre’s face, replacednot only with his earlier pensiveness but with a sense of deep dread. “Enjolras,you can’t—”

Silencing him with a gesture, Enjolras shook his head again.“My mind is made up, and you know why it must be so. I swear to you that I willnot make peace on any terms that would be disgraceful to a single man here.”

“That is never what I feared from you.” Combeferre descendedfrom his chair to kneel in front of Enjolras, clasping both hands in his own andlooking at him with supreme sadness. “I know. But Enjolras, Captain, if and when you refuse theirterms, when they have you in the middle of their camp, do you suppose they willlet you go? If you must hear them, and you’re right, I know why – send someoneelse.”

“Send another man to broker peace in my place? They supposeI am the leader in all of this. And I suppose you do, too.” Enjolras smiled alittle. “It would not do. It is for the very reason you call me Captain that itmust be me.”

“Very well. I will come with you.”

“No.”

For a moment, Combeferre did not speak, hurt and indignancemingled in his eyes. Yet when he spoke, it was with measured patience, with anedge of tension behind it, a coil waiting to strike. “And why is that?”

Enjolras pulled a hand apart from Combeferre’s, placing iton his shoulder and shifting forward until he, too, was on his knees. “You areneeded here,” he said, gently, and sensing the tension in Combeferre’sshoulder, carried on before he could speak. “You are always needed here, but especially if it’s as you say. If I do notcome back.” He felt a tightness in his throat, and cleared it away. “The revolutioncannot spare us both. And… I would not lose you, if I have another choice.”

Whatever anger there was dropped from Combeferre entirely,and Enjolras could feel the tightness of his grip on his hand. “It’s not fair,”he said, directed at no one in particular.

“I know.”

They remained that way for a while. Nothing else needed tobe said. Combeferre knew his mind, and Enjolras had every confidence that if hefell, Combeferre’s brilliance and compassion would not fail in guiding themtrue.

When he could wait no more, Enjolras rose from his knees tostand, and Combeferre stood with him, still holding his hand. “I am going,”said Enjolras.

Combeferre nodded, and bent to kiss his fingers. “But youwill come back? If at all possible.”

Enjolras smiled. “I will.” Then he pulled away, and set his shoulders,chin up and left with the same purposeful stride that he had walked intoCombeferre’s life. Combeferre watched him go.

Enjolras did not come back.

[electricportcullis]

AU where Marius can see ghosts

[bloomingbanana]

that’s a sad au 

[electricportcullis]

and Courfeyrac accompanies him on his morning strolls

[czeppeli]

Courfeyrac showing up at the worst times and commenting on Marius’ outfit or life choices

[lovrgirl-deactivated20170921]

#”yOU DIDN’T NAME YOUR CHILD AFTER ME???” ”Courf I have a daughter???” ”DOESN’T MATTER WHY DIDN’T YOU NAME HER AFTER ME??”,  (via gigglejolras)

[achelllies]

Also Courfeyrac passing on messages from the other Amis!!!!! (Consists of “R wanted to know why you didn’t name your daughter Harambe”, “Enj suggests that the Social Contract makes an amazing bed time story”, “Combeferre says not to listen to Enjolras, and he hopes when she is older that you will pass on his scientific texts to her”)

[grantaire-the-drunken-artist]

TWIN AU

Born from a typo made by scorpdaddy With contribution by mynameissteverogers

Grantaire with a Twin sister no one knows about until she just appears.

AND EVERYONES LIKE “???? Whos the hot girl who looks like R”

No one bothers to ask Grantaire and just assumes it’s another of his hookups

They don’t actually meet her until later

SHE DOES THE THING WHERE SHE DRESSES LIKE R

SHE TUCKS HER HAIR UP INTO A BEANIE

AND DOES THE MAKE UP STUBBLE

TRIES TO DO AN IMPRESSION OF HIS VOICE

No one notices it’s not him until R actually shows up. He introduces her as his little twin sister.

Enjolras looks excited/turned on/horrified

Just “WOW TWO RS”

BUT ALSO “OHMYGOD IM GONNA LOSE IT I CANT EVEN HANDLE ONE”

Their parents both named them R names

So like

Ranae and Rene

“This is my sister Ranae”

“… R your name is Rene..”

“.. Different spelling..”

“Your parents.. Not that smart..”

“Yeah also considering we were in the same classroom until 5th grade just made it even worse”

They both go by R too which makes it even more difficult.

They end up going by R (Grantaire because he’s the oldest)

and

r (Ranae because youngest)

R and r being little shits during meetings

r teaching R about fruity alcohol drinks and which ones get you drunk faster

They end up a giggling mess laughing at the tiny umbrellas

Ranae and Enjolras becoming like best friends

Ranae still has that fire to her that R lost and Enjolras and her are fucking horrific together They spur each other on Like ranae is the one that’s like “Come on Enjolras it’s just ONE more shot”

And he and r end up dancing on the bar top Ranae can’t dance for shit unless it’s ballet which she is amazing at

So her and Enjolras look like dads at prom

R is Fucking crying laughing

Enjolras drunkenly singing “Best Friend’s Brother” at the top of his lungs And Courf is just like “I fucking knew that asshole watched Nickelodeon with me when he said he was ‘studying’”

RANAE AND R DANCING TOGETHER WHEN THEYRE BOTH PLASTERED AND ARE FUCKING AMAZING UNTIL R TRIES TO LIKE TWERK IN THE MIDDLE OF IT OR SOMETHING AND RANAE IS LAUGHING SO HARD SHE FALLS OVER

R and r doing ballet together And its hypnotic to watch

r having the most ridiculous crush on eponine

PINING R AND RANAE

GAY DRUNK LOVE SONGS

R and r THEY DO THE BEST RENDITION OF UPTOWN FUNK

R is jealous Ranae is best buds with Enjolras but doesn’t mind that they usually hang at his place since Ranae and him magically live together now and their apartment is a million times better than when it was just R

r may or may not have had a threesome with Ferre and Courf and no one can confirm or deny the rumor

People would actually start referring to ranae as petitaire just as a fucking joke “Oh hahahaha grand r and petit r”

And theyre like

“no exactly This is how people told us apart at school”

Renae has undoubtedly the best eyebrows on the face of the planet

WHENEVER R IS DEPRESSED r JUST SO HAPPENS TO BE TOO

COMFORTING SIBLING CUDDLES

So theyre basically one soul split into two people

Just

Grantaire with a twin sister Ranae

[enjxras-archive-blog]

Les Amis criminal empire AU

Les Amis criminal empire AU that was inspired by THIS POST

* Enjolras the charming and Charismatic leader, driven and terrifying, an avenging angel revolutionary who’s name everyone knows weather your a hugh up person or someone on the street. Enjolras hunting down corporate businessmen, well known actors, directors, producers, you name it, anyone who’s corrupt or offering up radicalised ideas that hurt the masses and shoving guns to their temples, or sitting next to them in important meetings, a knife point at their leg. Talking to them in a calm but terrifying way, telling them to listen up and wise up or it won’t just be him next time.

* Combeferre the planner. The computer programmer. The man who can get into anywhere and if able to read maps and building plans as simply as a recipe book. Someone who’s hacked many high end websites, changed things, edited things, and siphoned millions from the higher ups, distributing it between charities, les amis, and other causes. He'a handy in a control room, not so great on the ground. He’s the messenger, the groups focal point for passing information. He’s the man they’re connected to when infiltrating a building. He’s also their research man, on companies, people, schools, anything that may be useful- he has folders for everything.

* Courfeyrac the charmer. The man if 1000 names and 1000 faces. He has so many fake ids that cover everything; Passports, driving licences, student ID cards, anything. A charmer of the highest order, he can slip into your bed as easily as he could slip something into your drink. He’s hand with a tranquilliser gun, carries a small one round with him- he never actually sleeps with people unless it’s a longer term project, but the medics in their team keep him up-to date with everything and their researchers can tell him if he’s at risk. He’s their spy on the inside, Courfeyrac has a hand in many place and knows many things.

* Joly the medic. A highly trained professional who works in a high end hospital, where, if Enjolras gets handy with a gun, those people end up. He takes care of them, knows if Enjolras, or whoever, meant to kill or only maim. If he meant to kill and the client end up surviving, well accidents happen in hospitals often- sometimes air bubbles get in the IV, and sometimes a dosage is miscalculated. He blames it on interns of course, an intern always felt dread when being told they were working under Dr. Joly, hearing horror stories about him, interns spread rumours but who’s going to win- a poor intern or a highly trained and well respected Doctor.

* Bossuet the negotiator. Unlucky still but it comes in handy. Good as misdirection due to his lack of luck- dis say this? Oh, i’m sorry I meant this. The man they send out to gamble with clients who have money to burn- because burn it will. He loses almost every time. Bossuet drains them of cash and gets them drunk before taking any documents and leaving, his unlucky streak breaking always to allow him safe passage back to Les Amis.

* Bahorel is the weapons man and the brute force of the operation. Handy with his fists at a moments notice. In charge of weapons too, the man with the connections, who knows what to get and how to get and for a small price, or sometimes, with a little persuasion, free. He acts as a body guard, heading out with Courf when he’s acting high end, with Bossuet in casinos from time to time, and the bodyguard to Jehan when he goes out too. He knows how to fight to not leave too many marks but leave a lasting impression- if people have met Bahorel once if they meet him again they give in straight away.

* Feuilly is the craftsman. A tailor. A master costume maker. He clothes Les Amis in their finery, makes the costumes for Coufeyrac, the masks for heists. He knows how to craft, and craft well- if they’re taking objects Feuilly can make a replica. He’s the details man, checking things before people leave, making sure they’re believable for what they’re claiming to be. Badges, hats, socks- the small things which can make or break a disguise. He’s an expert in woodwork and metal work, he makes jewellery and fans and masquerade masks which he sells when he’s not busy with Les Amis.

* Jehan the writer. Their journalist and their alibi creator. An accomplished author as a day job, a poet, but works for Les Amis on the side. Spinner of stories. The backstory man who works closely with Courfeyrac and Combeferre to discover the nature of clients and then with Feuilly to bring their character to life. He helps Grantaire create stories on how he ‘stole’ the artwork he is trying to sell, he helps Courfeyrac perfect voices and gives him scripts and flashcards when needed. He writes speeches for people and if anyone is ever arrested he write their statements and gets them to his client somehow.

* Grantaire is an artist. A painter. An expert forger and an expert blackmailer. He’s also handy with make up and body painting too. A charismatic forger who can replicate any piece in any medium you wish-he’s made millions on pieces, pieces that hang in reputable galleries in bug cities. Handy with a make up brush as well as a paintbrush- able to contour and shape faces with make up, feminine, more masculine, stubble, wounds, whatever is needed Grantaire is the man for the job. A blackmailer, someone who is brilliant at getting people to shut their mouths about what they know, sometimes in exchange for cash, because he knows that he alone has enough that he can blow it on shutting up some corporate puppet.

* (BONUS) Marius is the linguistics and the paper forger. An expert in several languages and an expert at mimicking be it voice or writing. He’s their phone guy- the man who deals with any and all calls, discussing in French, English, German, Chinese and numerous others. Able to forge signatures and fake letters that can be sent to higher powers. Marius’ forgeries have gotten things passed and money handed over more times than they can count. He joins Jehan, Grantaire, Bossuet, and Courfeyrac on meetings sometimes, being the translator for foreign people who decide they with ti get involved with Les Amis willingly or not.

[silver-whistle]

Bicentenaire cartes à jouer/1989 Revolution Bicentenary cards

You may recognise some friends… ;-D

[itsrevolutionarythought]

Can I have those?

[vintage-em-deactivated20241008]

hey hey hey fashion designer!r & model!enj au is a Concept

And what aConcept, dear Anon!! A Concept that deserves (needs) some elaboration so:

Grantaireis your sixteen-year-old artsy rebel kid, right? But because his parents can’treally afford to get him a lot of painting supplies he does other thingslike… drawing. And sewing old fabrics together. And both.

Andhe starts sewing his own clothes mainly because the teacher’s get weirdlyoffended and he becomes that kind of cool, kind of weird edgy art guy who people don’t know they want to approach or are kind of scared of

Until atone point Joly comes up to him in an all jeans ensemble andpatches EVERYWHERE and… he kind of looks like a disaster but he compliments Grantaire’shalf dyed jeans and whatever, they’re kindred spirits, they’re best friends now

SoGrantaire goes to study fashion design and when he’s looking for internships orsomething, well Joly happens to know Bossuet who happens to knowCourfeyrac who knows everyone including Jehan

Jehanwho does… colourful… avantgarde… fashion…? It’s weird and they get rippedby every critic every time but everyone else loves them so they’re happilylike, fuck you, every fashion week

Grantaire gets an internship and he’s kind of great at what he does and withthe support of Jehan and the attention he gets he’s able to start his own labelat one point

·It’sa raging success and no one is more surprised than Grantaire

 His ‘main’ and most booked model at first is Parnasse

(Theymet when Parnasse went to one of Jehan’s castings, took one look at the clothesand got the fuck out of there)

·(Notwithout the private number of the disturbingly cute designer though)

·SoR (his pseudonym, the pretentious fucker) does fashion that’s darkish,unconventional, androgynous and in the general consensus, brilliant

Fora couple of seasons that’s what he does but at one point it feels like… heneeds to do something… else? More? It’s kind of an art blog here so he’s justlike, right, let’s do the complete opposite

Andhe’s planning that whole collection of contrasting darkness and light and stuff

 Onlythat he now needs well, some different models

Cueto Enjolras who got cut off by his parents and kind of needs money and ofcourse he knows Courfeyrac who knows Jehan who knows –

Weiterlesen

[hasharakl]

The Poet

[combeferre-is-my-guide]

Joly and Combeferre often stay up late to study together, so Joly got to witness Combeferre’s descent into madness firsthand. He got to witness the gross, stupid grin that Combeferre had when this cute boy in one of his classes first gave him his number. He had to become accustomed to Combeferre’s cellphone sounds because ‘Ferre was constantly texting that boy and never fucking silences his phone. He got to witness the first time Combeferre confessed that maybe he was a bit head-over-heels for this boy, but it could never be mutual. He got to witness the pining, the frustration, the stupid endless rants about whether or not all of this was worth it.

But he also got to witness when Combeferre and that boy finally became an official couple. He got to witness how happy that boy made Combeferre. And no amount of stupid grins, annoying ringtones, or pointless rants would ever make him regret their late-night study sessions.

[itsrevolutionarythought]

Eine Begegnung im Corinthe

Pairing: Courfeyrac x Reader Dedicated to the lovely @ijustreallylovezebras ----------------------------------------------------------------

Ich arbeitete bereits einige Zeit im Corinthe und Madame Huchelop hatte mich von Anfang an herzlich aufgenommen. Die Arbeit hier war nicht besonders aufregend, aber sie war ehrlich und neben meinem Verdienst musste ich mich nie um Nahrung sorgen. Unter den Stammgästen des Corinthe befand sich auch eine Gruppe von Studenten, welche hier regelmäßig zu Mittag aßen. Seit meinem ersten Arbeitstag waren sie freundlich gewesen und oft verwickelten sie mich in ein Gespräch, woraufhin Madame Huchelop verärgert schaute.

Als ich die Gruppe zu ersten Mal traf, waren sie zu fünft. Ich steuerte auf ihren Tisch zu und nahm die Bestellung auf. Als einer von ihnen gleich zwei Faschen Wein orderte, wurden meine Augen groß und ich vermutete, es handle sich um ein Missverständnis, doch auf meine verdutzte Miene folgte nur schallendes Gelächter. „Verzeihen sie Mademosielle, aber sie scheinen wohl R’s übliche Bestellung nicht zu kennen“, sprach mich einer der Studenten direkt an. Er war schlaksig und unter seinen braunen Locken glänzten seine blauen Augen schelmisch hervor. Ich legte meine Stirn in falten: „ Danke für die Information Monsieur…?“ „Courfeyrac“, beendete er meinen Satz sofort. „ Aber Monsieur Courfeyrac ist mein Vater, ich bevorzuge einfach nur Courfeyrac. Und wie darf ich sie schönes Geschöpf anreden?“ Währender sprach hatte er sich geschmeidig von seinem Stuhl geschwungen und war galant vor mit zum stehen gekommen. Er ergriff meine Hand und platzierte einen gehauchten Kuss auf meinen Handrücken. Ich blieb mit einem verwirrten Gesichtsausdruck zurück, welcher ihn herrlich zu amüsieren schien, und antwortete schließlich: „Y/N, “ und ich hatte den Mund noch nicht geschlossen, da fuhr der Student bereits fort: „Y/N, was für ein Wohlklang. Ihr Name ist Musik in meinen Ohren. Es bricht mir fast das Herz eine Schönheit Ihresgleichen in solch unmöglicher Gesellschaft zu finden.“ Ich musterte ihn entgeistert und sein Grinsen wurde breiter, während er einen weiteren Kuss auf  meinem Handrücken platzierte. Hilfesuchend sah ich mich um, doch ich blickte nur in die amüsierten Gesichter seiner Kumpane. Als Courfeyrac dies bemerkte trat er einen Schritt zur Seite und machte eine ausladende Handbewegung in Richtung seiner Freunde. „Darf ich ihnen meine Freunde vorstellen. Hier haben wir Grantaire, “ er deutete auf den Herrn, der die zwei Flaschen Wein geordert hatte und Courfeyrac etwas genervt musterte. „Dann ist da Marius, “ ein schmaler junger Mann winkte ihr kurz zu. „Das dort ist Bahorel“, er deutete auf einen kantigen Studenten der ihr zunickte „und zuletzt wäre da noch Joly“ und er deutete auf den etwas nervös wirkenden Jungen Mann, der befremdlicher weise einen dicken Schal trug, obwohl der Winter bereits vergangen war. Ich nickte den Herren der Reihe nach zu und musterte dann den jungen Studenten vor mir. In seiner Miene lag der Schalk und er hatte ein schönes Gesicht, doch ich konnte nicht anders als, ob seiner geschwollenen Ansprache, mit den Augen zu rollen. „Schön sie alle zu treffen, aber nun muss ich mich um die Bestellung kümmern“, würgte ich ihn ab, bevor er zu einer weiteren Litanei ansetzen konnte. Ich sah Madame Huchelop im Hintergrund ungeduldig stehen und wollte mich schnell aus dem Staub machen und drehte mich auf dem Absatz um, bevor noch einer ein Wort sagen konnte.

Bevor ich mit der Bestellung an den Tisch zurückkehrte, beobachtete ich die Herren von weitem. Marius schien seinen Gedanken nachzuhängen und spielte mit einem Taschentuch zwischen seinen Fingern. Joly fühlte sich immer wieder die Stirn und diskutierte mit den anderen Herren. Courfeyrac schien mit ihnen Kriegsrat zu halten und ich schüttelte den Kopf. Wie konnte man nur so dreist und charmant zugleich sein. Zu meinem erschrecken bemerkte ich, wie sich ein Lächeln auf meine Lippen stahl. Dann nahm ich das Tablett auf und steuerte auf den Tisch zu. Den Wein stellte ich vor Grantaire ab, welcher sichtlich Durst zu haben schien, und als ich das Tablett geleert hatte und mich zum gehen wandte, hielt mich Courfeyrac zurück. Er hatte einen unergründlichen Ausdruck in den Augen und ein schelmisches Grinsen im Gesicht. Er öffnete den Mund, doch bevor er etwas sagen konnte, sagte ich schnell: „Ich wünsche den Herren einen guten Appetit.“ Dann wandte ich mich um und verschwand aus dem Gastraum in die Küche.  Ich hatte wenig Lust, von diesem Studenten vorgeführt zu werden.                                                 *          *          *

In den darauf-folgenden Tagen besuchte Courfeyrac das Corinthe täglich. Er ließ seinen Charme spielen und umgarnte mich nach aller bester Manier. Ich versuchte, mich davon nicht beeindrucken zu lassen, da ich befürchtete er sei ein Schaumschläger, doch seine Hartnäckigkeit imponierte mir. Es war kein Geheimnis das er mit Frauen umzugehen wusste und ich entzog mich ihm oft, doch ich spürte seinen Blick auf mir ruhen, wenn immer es ihm möglich war. Auch seine Freunde, welche ihn oft begleiteten, waren stets freundlich und ich Unterhielt mich gerne mit ihnen.

Meine Gedanken kreisten immer öfter um ihn und so wunderte ich mich, als sein Besuch eines Tages ausblieb. Auch am folgenden Tag kamen seine Freunde ohne ihn ins Corinthe und als sie ihre Rechnung beglichen und sich zum gehen aufmachten, hielt ich den, der mir als Joly vorgestellt worden war, zurück. „Was kann ich für dich tun, Y/N?“ fragte er und blickte besorgt drein. „Kannst du mir sagen wo Courfeyrac abgeblieben ist?“ fragte ich mit einem beiläufigen Tonfall. Joly begann zu grinsen und zuckte mit den Achseln: „Ich weiß es nicht. Er hat sich vor zwei Tagen wie gewohnt nach dem Treffen verabschiedet und ist seitdem nicht mehr aufgetaucht.“ Ich legte besorgt die Stirn in Falten und Joly lachte: „Sorgt sich da etwa jemand?“ Ich errötete und Joly sah selbstzufrieden drein. „Schau doch mal bei ihm Zuhause vorbei? Er wohnt in der Rue de la Verrerie No.15.“ Ich nickte und verabschiedete mich von dem jungen Studenten.                                                  *          *          *

Die Rue de la Verrerie lag nicht weit vom Corinthe entfernt und so stand ich kurze Zeit später vor dem Haus, in dem Courfeyrac wohnte. Es war bereits spät, da meine Schicht im Corinthe immer lange dauerte. Die Portiers- Dame öffnete und wies mir den Weg zu Courfeyracs Zimmer. Ich stieg in den ersten Stock hinauf und kam schließlich vor der besagten Tür zum stehen. Mein Magen verknotete sich und ich war nervöser als ich sollte. Ich atmete noch einmal tief durch, klopfte dann an die Tür und lauschte angespannt. Es folge ein Moment der Stille bis ich das Geräusch eines Riegels vernahm, der an der Tür zurückgezogen wurde. Dann schwang die Tür ein Stück auf und der dunkle Lockenkopf kam zum Vorschein.

Er musterte mich erstaunt: „Y/N, was führt dich denn hier her?“ Jetzt als er mich so direkt fragte, wusste ich nicht was ich entgegnen sollte. Ich hatte mir eine fadenscheinige Geschichte zurechtgelegt, aber die Worte waren wie fortgeblasen und ich konnte nur noch stammeln. Er öffnete die Tür nun vollständig und ich musterte ihn eingehend. Er trug eine Hose und das Hemd, welches er sich flüchtig übergeworfen hatte, entblößte seinen Oberkörper. Er grinste als er ihren Blick bemerkte und lehnte sich locker in den Türrahmen. „Also, was kann ich für dich tun?“ Ich geriet innerlich in Panik. Das war die vielleicht dümmste Idee, die ich je hatte. Mit einem gemurmelten: „Nicht so wichtig.“, drehte mich kurzentschlossen um und eilte den Flur entlang. Noch bevor ich dir Treppe erreichte, war Courfeyrac mit nachgekommen. Er ergriff mein Handgelenk, drehte mich herum und schloss mich in die Arme. Ich hielt die Luft an und vergrub meinen Kopf in seiner warmen Brust. Sein Herzschlag ging ruhig und er hielt mich einfach fest. So standen wir eine gefühlte Ewigkeit dort und ich versuchte meine Gedanken zu Ordnen. Was würde passieren, wenn wir uns voneinander lösten? Diese Frage wurde mir kurze Zeit später beantwortet. Courfeyrac löste sich langsam von mir und musterte mich mit einem schelmischen Grinsen. „Hast du mich etwa vermisst, Y/N?“ Ich seufzte und entgegnete: „ Ein bisschen vielleicht.“ Er begann zu strahle. „Aber bilde dir nichts darauf ein“, entgegnete ich noch bevor er meine Lippen mit einem Kuss versiegelte. Alles drehte sich und ich versank in der Begegnung unserer Münder. Als er seine Lippen von den Meinen nahm, schnappte ich nach Luft und boxte ihn leicht in die Seite. „Du bist unmöglich“, murmelte ich und er grinste mich schief an. Wir zogen und uns sein Zimmer zurück. Marius war zum Glück wieder auf einem seiner nächtlichen Streifzüge und so waren wir ungestört. Ich setzte mich auf das Bett am anderen Ende des Raumes und Courfeyrac streckte sich aus und legte mir den Kopf in den Schoß. Ich strich ihm durch die dunklen Locken und wir redeten stundenlang. Über uns lag eine Vertrautheit, als würden wir uns schon ewig kennen und als mir schließlich die Augen zufielen, bettete Courfeyrac mich in seinen Armen und wisperte „Schlaf gut Y/N/N“. Mit einem Lächeln auf den Lippen schlief ich in seiner Umarmung ein.

Note: I tryed my first Character x Reader fic and it is written in german. Y/N = your name / Y/N/N = your nick name . Ich hoffe das war in Ordnung :)

[revjolras]

jehan has a scrapbook dedicated to the amis. there’s tons of photos, paper memorabilia, and a few pressed flowers here and there for a nice aesthetic. if one of the amis is having a bad day, jehan will sit beside them, open up the scrapbook, and reminisce with them about happy times