anonymous asked:

Courf is scared of heights, pass it on! ~Les mis secret santa

Okay, so one day Les Amis decide to play tourists in Paris because they’re bored and the weather is just right, and of course, when you’re a tourist in Paris you have to see the Eiffel tower.

Courf starts to shake already when they’re just standing in line, waiting for their tickets. Look, it’s really nice and impressive to look at … but … from the ground, okay … it’s nice from the ground.

“You don’t have to,” the others tell him, “We don’t have to.” Joly is looking at him with a soft smile, and Marius takes his hand, and they’re so nice. But. But he’s not one to spoil the fun for others, so he breathes deep, and goes.

It’ll be all right, right?

(It isn’t.)

They decided to take the stairs for the first part, not the elevator, and Courf is dying. He’s shaking and breathing too fast and thinking no, no, no. Thinking, I’m gonna die. Thinking, I’m gonna fall and I’m gonna crash and break and die.

(It’s too much.)

“Courf!” Someone is grabbing his shoulder, someone is saying his name.


(Too much, too much, too much.)


(I’m gonna die.)

It’s Combeferre who gets him out of it. Combeferre’s bone-crashing hug that takes him back from the place in his mind he’s fled to, Combeferre’s fingers in his hair and on his cheeks and his smile and his eyes and his voice that tells him that everything is fine. Combeferre, who grabs his hand and guides him down, away from the others and away from the steel construction and away from the feeling of lying crashed on the ground.

They’re standing under the Eiffel Tower and Courfeyrac is smiling for the first time.

He’s tucking his head in the crook of Combeferre’s shoulder. Combeferre puts his arm around him and hugs him close.

“You know, I always have my head in the stars. It’s probably good that at least one of us is staying on the ground.”


Les Amis & Co. as italian cities

Courfeyrac as Gallipoli 

Called “The pearl of the Ionian Sea”, it’s a beautiful city in Apulia (Puglia). Hot weather, amazing beaches, great night life.. it’s one of the favourite destinations for young people in summer. People here are extremely welcoming and friendly, it’s not strange having a chat with someone on the street or while waiting in line in an ice cream parlour. 

The historic centre is beautiful too, full of baroque architectures such as the Basilica di Sant’Agata or the  Tafuri Palace. It’s in part surrounded by walls built in the XIV century to whitstand the many attacks of invasors. 

eirenical  asked:

(Is it bad to ask for the same ship you just asked me for? DON'T CARE. ;D) 13 or 20 for Courfeyrac and Feuilly? ^_^

(omg no it is not bad, I will never not want to write about this ship ^_^)


He’s never been so scared in his life.

At first, it was only on the news; it was a big deal and it was going to change the world as they knew it, but it was all going down in distant countries, and then in big cities on the opposite coast.  It wasn’t here.

Then all of a sudden it was here, and they were running for their lives, dodging rotting corpses and panicked people.  Driving through fields because the roads are choked with traffic and shamblers.  Siphoning fuel from abandoned cars, eating cold beans from a can, sleeping in the back seat and in the trunk of the vehicle, each taking a shift to watch from the front seat while the other three sleep.  The nights are so very dark without the street lamps, the sky full of more stars than Courfeyrac thought possible.

The last seven days have been hell.  Courfeyrac’s seen more people killed than he can count–most of them already dead–and he’s even had to do the killing a few times.  He’s almost died more times than he can count.  He’s seen people eaten alive by dead things.  And none of it’s stopping.  None of it’s ever going to stop.

The fear finally takes over on the eighth day, as they’re exploring the town they camped outside the night before.  The place is tiny–a gas station and a couple of stores, nothing more–and it appears to be deserted, at first glance.  Still, Courfeyrac doesn’t want to go in, wants to beg them to turn around and go back out onto the road, away from the houses.  But the scratch on Joly’s arm is red and hot to the touch, and there’s a chance the convenience store might have neosporin.  So in they go.

There’s a wreck in the main crossroads, so they stop the car and pick their way around the accident on foot.  The silence is eerie as they walk across the street, broken glass crunching under their feet, the route back to the feeble safety of their car getting longer and longer.  Somewhere down the road, a crow cries out, harsh and inhuman.

All of a sudden, Courfeyrac can’t take it anymore.  His knees buckle and he folds up on the weathered pavement, a hand clapped over his mouth to stifle the scream that wants to break out.  His brain is a tangle of wailing sirens.  He’s certain that at any moment teeth will appear, just seconds from sinking into his skin–but he can’t lift up his head to look.

Fingertips brush his shoulder and he flinches away, whimpering.  Someone catches him, fingers clenching his upper arms hard enough to bruise.

“What’s wrong?”  Feuilly’s voice sounds distorted, like he’s at the far end of a tunnel.  

Courfeyrac shakes his head, gasping for breath.  He’s going to scream, he’s going to be sick, he’s going to die.  He can’t do this he can’t he can’t he can’t

A hand on the back of his neck.  His forehead pressed into a rough jacket.

“I’ve got you,” Feuilly says simply.

Courfeyrac is trembling, his stomach a knot of stabbing pain, his chest clenched so tight every convulsive heartbeat shakes his whole body.  His hands scrabble at Feuilly’s jacket, reaching for something to hang on to.  His breath catches in his throat and he’s going to die.

Feuilly’s fingers card through his hair, and in his ear, Feuilly’s voice is murmuring, “you’re okay, you’re okay, I’ve got you.”  

Something inside Courfeyrac cracks, and suddenly he’s crying, heaving sobs that he tries to stifle in his sleeve because he’s being too loud and they’ll come and as miserable as he is he’s still more terrified of them than any other feeling.  But he can’t stop crying either, because the world is falling apart, and he’s killed people, and he doesn’t know what happened to Enjolras and Combeferre, and he’s so. fucking. scared.

“I can’t do this,” he sobs into Feuilly’s jacket.  “I can’t, it’s too much.”  He feels like a little kid, begging for something he knows he can’t have–wanting his stomach flu to go away, wanting Lucky back alive, wanting Mama to come back home.  If only he were a little kid, and he could actually believe in hope.

“Hey, Courf.”  Feuilly pushes him up, hands gripping his shoulders.  “Hey, just look at me.  Breathe.  I’ve got you.”

He shakes his head.  “I can’t do this.”

“Just breathe,” Feuilly repeats.  When Courfeyrac takes one shaky gasp of a breath, he smiles encouragingly.  “Good.  Another.”

Courfeyrac takes another breath, a little longer this time.  Then a third.

“You’re going to be okay,” Feuilly murmurs, his fingers kneading Courfeyrac’s tight shoulder muscles.  “You can do this.  Just keep breathing.”

“What’s going to happen to us?”  His voice is ragged from crying, almost a whimper still.  He doesn’t have enough left to feel embarassed about it.

Feuilly shakes his head.  “One day at a time.  We get through today, and then we think about tomorrow.  For now, just keep breathing.  Just–just stay with us.”  A frown twitches his lips, and impulsively, he pulls Courfeyrac back against his jacket.  “We … we need you, Courf.  Stay with us.”

Courfeyrac, his nose full of the smell of blood and smoke and Feuilly’s sweat, nods shakily.  “I’ll try.”

  • Someone: I love that one Musical! The one with the cute French guy!
  • Me: Do you mean Phantom, Hamilton or Les Mis?
  • Someone: Idk, but it was set around 1800...
  • Me: Do you mean Phantom, Hamilton or Les Mis?

What she says: I’m fine
What she means: In the 2012 movie adaptation of Les Mis, why does Grantaire go from sitting on the front of the carriage wearing a coat and a hat to sitting in some random cafe with a girl on his knee in a matter of seconds? Was George Blagden acting as an extra and the directors just hoped we wouldn’t notice? Or were they suggesting that Grantaire couldn’t bear to see Enjolras die so as soon as the conflict started he ran away to bury his sorrows with wine and a girl? If that was the case how did it happen so quickly? How does time work in the Les Mis movie universe? At the start of the film Fantine is shown to go from fairly ‘normal’ to having a cough in just a few scenes which are probably set over a matter of days, weeks at most. Does time pass differently in France? Do they experience shorter days and shorter years? Back to Grantaire, when he kisses Mme Hucheloup off her chair why does he go from wearing a sash around his waist to not wearing one even though the shot didn’t change? Is Grantaire always doomed to have trouble in the wardrobe department?

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