ExR Week Day 2: It’s Not What It Looks Like(It’s Way Worse!)
We all have embarrassing celebrity crushes when we’re teenagers, Enjolras’ one just happened to be on Robespierre (he still has a crush on him, but he keeps it lowkey, yeah, right).
(Now, I know it’s kinda shitty but I wanted to finish it for day two prompt and only had like three hours to do it. Also, it’s 23:40 hrs here in my country, so it still counts as the second day, yay!)
This is probably the most ridiculous thing I have ever thought about and yet I regret nothing about it XD
Endless List Of Favourite Movies [3/??] ⋈ Les Miserables (2012)
“Have you asked of yourself what’s the price you might pay? Is this simply a game for a rich young boy to play? The colors of the world are changing day by day! Red, the blood of angry men! Black, the dark of ages past! Red, a world about to dawn! Black, the night that ends at last!”
finally posting this old watercolour chibi thing here. i love this glorious meme feast of a movie, my friend @mrsjadecurtiss and i are in tears (and singing obnoxiously) every time we warch it. 🌝 if you’ve seen the movie, who’s your favourite character? mine is by far enjolras. i ship him with marius - and france, obviously 🇫🇷❤️
Enjolras has excellent posture and the stance of a leader, a passion brimming in his eyes at all times. A fervent, fierce revolutionary, he has never had the time to ever indulge in ..dancing. And he is fine with that. A man of his position can barely afford the time for anything besides writing perfect speeches and reading and working towards the grand goal of revolution and freedom.
It’s one of those rough nights and Enjolras finds Grantaire in a corner of his studio, a bottle smashed at his feet and his head sunk between his knees. Enjolras tries to quietly clean up the mess but Grantaire raises his head and in in that second, in his eyes Enjolras sees a terrifying grief that tightens his throat in an icy grip. He has always had revolts to plan and arguments to debate with, never breathless, never short of a witty quip, the last word; never had he felt so helpless in the face of the tumult tragedy that he had only caught a glimpse of in that one fleeting second.
He tentatively reaches out a hand and touches the rough fabric of the shirt that hung loosely off Grantaire’s forearm. Grantaire doesn’t respond.
“Dance with me” Enjolras whispers.
“I thought the great liberator and champion of democracy didn’t indulge in the luxury of dancing—that he despired these unnecessary bourgeois traditions” Grantaire’s voice is small and hollow.
“..teach me how to dance” Enjolras rephrases and his voice is more hopeful, sombre in it’s endearment.
Grantaire lets Enjolras pull him to his feet, his eyes reflecting a subtle amusement, “all right, then”
(Basically just give me never-seen-before footage of Grantaire and Enjolras slow dancing while they hold each other close in Grantaire’s messy studio while he teaches Enjolras to dance.. to this song ok. Just, let me have this. Give me more of this sad wholesomeness™.)
‘Father Mabeuf, would you like to have me water your garden for you?’ <…>
There was something about her, as she thus ran about among paths, where her outline appeared perfectly black, waving her angular arms, and with her fichu all in rags, that resembled a bat 🦇