annaobyrne:

pink had never been
eponine’s colour. it was too garish, too sickly, too sweet, too
tender, it was too most things. eponine felt far more at home in greys,
blacks, reds and golds – bold, but not too much of anything. cosette delighted in pinks of all shades but especially pastel pinks
that seemed to intensify how soft and warm her complexion was, eponine
noted. after cosette moved in, pink began to drip through their home, from cushions to bed
linen, make-up to toothbrushes. with every pink item that made its
way to eponine, cosette smiled. cosette smiled at pink and that’s how
eponine decided pink was her favourite colour.

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pilferingapples:

danibonbon:

Des belles fleurs: [Art + drabble fill] A canon era AU where Éponine survives the barricade and meets Cosette once again. Both girls learn to deal with their pasts, somehow.

Cosette/Éponine I did for ao3 user sonatadream up at @lesjoursdete canon-era Les miserábles exchange! Please check the ao3 entry as I wrote a few snippets to go with the pictures,

In return I got Keep me close, a wonderful nsfw Enjoltaire by sonatadream (!!!!!??? wow I just noticed this!) thank you so much dear ❤

ooh, I missed this somehow??  Your style is always so lush! I love the colors here; even though they’re so soft, every picture still feels totally saturated with them. And I love the little story playing out over the pictures!

somuchbetterthanthat:

“There’s one thing I cannot quite figure out yet,” said Courfeyrac behind her suddenly. Eponine tensed, glancing at him. He was staring at the newly weds, an odd, wistful expression on his face. “Are you in love with Marius, or with Cosette?”

If Eponine had played the lady as well as she wished she could, she would have probably left, after making sure that Courfeyrac knew he had greatly offended and scandalized her; as it was, Eponine was still ill-suited to the role; she could barely fit right in all the dresses she had now and had dreamed of for years, and she could pretend even less that she was as respectable as she ought to be; she’d seen too many things. Courfeyrac wouldn’t have been able to shock her even if he tried, and – if she’d judge the man properly, he wasn’t that kind. 

“Neither,” she said, honestly, and when he looked down at her, blinking dubiously, she shrugs an amended, defensive: “A little bit of both, perhaps. I don’t know. What about you?” 

“I thought it was just Marius,” Courfeyrac answered, genuine and almost pensive.

It figured, Eponine thought, nodding. Cosette was like that; one minute you hated her, and everything she was – everything you thought you’d be, one day – and the next she was smiling at you and your heart was beating just a little too fast. Or maybe that was just Eponine. She didn’t like thinking about feelings too much; she got wistful if she lingered on it too long; No Marius for her; certainly no Cosette. Still, it was beautiful, the way they looked at each other like they were each other’s entire world. Eponine couldn’t even be properly jealous. 

Glancing back at Courfeyrac again, it wasn’t hard to see he wasn’t jealous at all either.

“It’s improper, to stand so near a lady, and not making her dance,” she told him, abruptly, a bit too sharply. 

He startled, and then, he smiled, amused and charmed. 

“Of course,” he told her and hold out his hand after a brief curtsy, every bit the gentleman. “Mademoiselle -”

Eponine still got a thrill every time she was called “Mademoiselle”. It was nice, feeling proper and respected and all that. It felt right, even, more and more. 

“Monsieur,” she said, and took his hand.