-Enjolras who’s afraid that his friends don’t see him as a friend or a fun person to be around but as a leader who doesn’t care about anything other than revolution
-Combeferre who worries that he talks too much about the obscure things he’s interested in and that people tire of him because of it
-Courfeyrac who worries that he’s too talkative and extroverted and clingy but really just wants his friends to know he loves them and wants them to be happy
-Feuilly who worries that he misses too many get get-togethers and hangouts because he’s working all the time and that his friends forget about him
-Bahorel who is afraid that his friends only see the surface of him that’s tough and bro and let’s get wasted
-Joly who worries that he annoys everyone by worrying about germs so much but he can’t help it so he just tries to cover it up by acting super upbeat all the time
-Bossuet who worries that every time he walks into a room his friends think oh no what will he fuck up this time
-Grantaire who worries that he’s too fucked up and depressed for anyone to handle and so he hides when he’s having a really bad day
-Jehan who worries that everyone thinks they’re weak or annoying because he loves love and flowers and poetry
You are not alone.
C o s e t t e Aesthetic
How strange, this feeling that my life’s begun at last / This change, can people really fall in love so fast?
Remember, we love you.
I reeeeeaaaally wanted to draw something for Les Mis Rare Pairs Week – so here’s my favourite OT3: Valvertine ^_^
(Psst! Click the doodles to see my secret comments on all my posts ^_^)
He’s willing to hug anyone who’s neat.
“You just see here the quality, the artistry in terms of the light, the shadows. “ [Rick McCallum on the use of light and shadow on ROTS set]
“Ah, Monsieur Mabeuf,” said Cosette gently as she entered the room of the old man, who was staring at the wall, morose. When he looked up at her, frowning as if he was trying to remember who she was, she felt her heart clench. “It’s so warm in this room, Monsieur. Wouldn’t you like to get a bit of fresh air with me in the garden?”
“The garden,” repeated Monsieur Mabeuf, his eyes suddenly slightly brighter.
“Yes.” Cosette smiled. “Éponine mentionned to me that you had a fondness for flowers. I happen to have a lot of them, and i’ve neglected to see them for a long time now.”
“It’s no good to do that,” said Monsieur Mabeuf, shaking his head. “Flowers, they need care, and love. I had the book for you – i had, i had a lot of books…” His voice trailed off. He sighed. “I don’t know if I can move much, my lady. I am quite tired. Old men should not, perhaps, survive two bullets in the chest.”
“I won’t insist if you are too tired of course,” said Cosette carefully, moving in to rest a gentle hand on his frail shoulder. “But I would love to hear your advice, and i’ll be honest with you, it’ll be nice to have company to keep my mind off Marius’s sickness…”
“Oh,” said Mabeuf, startling. “You’re Marius’s lady. I thought – i was told you never left his side these days.”
Cosette’s cheeks turned dark, but she did not falter.
“Marius is well-cared for while I am absent,” she told Mabeuf. “He is with his friend Monsieur Courfeyrac, whom I think you know. Still, I can’t help feeling a bit agitated, as you understand. All signs point to him getting better, and yet -”
There was no pretense in the way her voice shook at the idea that Marius might truly never wake up. The thought horrified her still, and being far from him did not help her ease her worries. But the emotion seemed to do the trick at last. Mabeuf awkwardly patted her hand.
“There, there,” he said softly. “If an old man like me could get out of this barricade, I’m sure Marius can only do so too. He’s a brave boy, like his father. Help me out of his chair. We’ll go see your flowers now. Truly, flowers are more fragile than young men, we have to make sure they’re doing well.”
“ – In conclusion,” finished Enjolras at last, continuing to
look at Feuilly with almost painful sincerity, “I wish to convey my deep
respect for you as a man, as a friend, for friendship and loyalty and the work
we are all engaged in together, but most especially your part of it.”
Feuilly tried to sift through the several minutes of
impassioned speechmaking he’d just sat through, on everything from the nature
of friendship to the brightness of the future, with a detour through a puzzling
metaphor involving ploughshares and goats. “I’m not quite sure,” he said,
carefully, “but are you saying you want to kiss me?”
Enjolras managed to flush slightly red without changing his
earnest and sincere expression in the least. “If that is what you would wish,
but I have the utmost respect for you and your choices regardless and would
continue in any –”
Feuilly decided to kiss him before the goats made another