“You'd think they'd be more into living green, what with all art being just a recycled sludge of ideas from all who came before them.”
“Originality is the myth of capitalism,” Enjolras said, avoiding the loose cobbles of the plaza and the sludge that lay therein. “Where are we going?”
“Museum,” Grantaire said.
Temporarily moving abroad certainly widens all horizons.
Feat. an abundance of promenades, unsafe painting practices, subtle but lovingly placed mentions of tattoos, arguments over Italian pastry, debates over French cooking, enough European references to satisfy my heart, harmless but copious flirting, and maybe one cat.
Bookmarked by TheWinchesters_are_Sherlocked
22 May 2020
Fandoms: Les Misérables - All Media Types
25 Dec 2019
"The holiday party? Here?" Enjolras nods towards their neatly-cluttered-but-decided-non-festive living room. "On all none of a budget?"
Grantaire shrugs, "I fancied a challenge."
aka: the horribly domestic They-Were-Roommates Christmas rom-com you didn't know you needed.
Fandoms: Les Miserables, Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo, Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil
23 Mar 2020
Enjolras is Saint-Michel Academy's brightest young composer. He runs the orchestra, the Musician's Rights board, chairs the scholarship program, teaches free classical music to children, and is in the middle of his dissertation. He has never been anything less than a prodigy, until his teacher forces him to write a pop song.
Enter the effortlessly cool Grantaire, with his smudged eyeliner and lovely guitar-playing fingers. He really digs Enjolras' "vibe," whatever that means.
“Alright,” Enjolras says after a moment of silence. “Get it out of your system.”
Grantaire, without consciously planning to do so, bursts out laughing.
“You're an elf,” Grantaire manages, redundantly, once his laughter dies down. “Oh my God, Enjolras. You're a mall elf.”
Or, Enjolras and Grantaire realise how little they really know about each other, and that Christmas really does bring out the best in some people.
The colourful leaflet that had been pushed into his hands said it all, but Grantaire couldn’t help himself from asking “G.I. bill rights?”
Courfeyrac stopped his round of handing out the leaflets, and grinned at Grantaire. Close to the windows, there was Enjolras turning around silently, and Grantaire had only felt that, hyper aware of Enjolras who was telling him that one more word… so that was exactly what he did. “Some say the war isn’t over yet.”
What the year 1974 brings for the Amis, swings from dancing to Jazz to self-discovery to no penny in your pocket. All Grantaire knows is that it will still take a long time before he feels at home.