anakinskvwalkcr:

He and Anakin met in the middle of the deserted street. During their years as Master and Padawan he’d done his best to break Anakin’s childish dependence on demonstrations of affection. He’d failed. And now, full of relief, he found himself reaching out to clasp his former student’s shoulder.

that’s not a demonstration of affection you repressed attached in-denial twat

“If anyone can, you can,” said Anakin. And because he was Anakin, and so tired, and had only ever pretended to learn that lesson of distance, gave [Obi-Wan] a swift embrace.

now that’s a demonstration of affection

(Clone Wars Gambit: Siege by Karen Miller)

Advertisements

@thecoffeetragedy
reblogged your photoset “Les Mis Modern Aesthetic, Feuilly It takes them a while to get their garden started, between moving and
Feuilly…”

#I don’t have the WORDS#eirenical is an absolute treasure oh my god#this is the best thing this is idea i’m so happy#ahhhhhhhh#les mis#feuilly#country verse#country house ‘verse#what’s constant usage of tags#eeee!!!#i have a lot of feelings about this verse#and about feuilly in this verse#trans girl feuilly#i just saw the lavender eeee#<3 ❤ ❤

Just got home from therapy to see these tags and well… you know you’ve done good when you reduce a friend to squeeing.  ^_^  Thank you!!  *big hugs*  I’m really glad you liked it!  😀

On a more serious note, IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN ANY OF VE’S POSTS ABOUT THEIR COUNTRY HOUSE AU, I WOULD HIGHLY RECOMMEND LOOKING INTO IT.  I LOVE THESE ‘VERSE SO SO MUCH.  ^_______^

That is all.  ^_^

Courfeyrac and Feuilly (from whichever POV you like) — 31. things you said right before goodbye (+/- the one that came right before it because that seems like a potential recipe for major angst and I’m in that kind of a mood? ^_~)

takethewatch:

30. things I wish you’d said
31. things you said right before goodbye

“Goodbye.”

He closes the door behind him, and there’s not anything Courfeyrac can do to stop him.

* * *

“This isn’t me.”

He says it so quietly Courfeyrac almost doesn’t catch the words–wouldn’t have heard them at all, if he hadn’t been so intently focused on observing Feuilly, of trying to figure out what it is that’s broken in him and how to fix it.  Feuilly knows as much; knows he should be grateful to have someone who cares enough to listen to him like that.  But for once in his life, it’s not enough.

“What do you mean?” Courfeyrac asks him.

Feuilly shakes his head.  “You didn’t know me before … before all of this.  I wasn’t such a wreck, I wasn’t dangerous to the people around me.  I was–useful.”  Real.

“This fight has changed us all,” Courfeyrac tells him.  “I’m very different from how I was before.  That doesn’t mean I’m not the same person.  You may have changed, Feuilly, but you’re still yourself.”

“Well, then I hate myself,” Feuilly says flatly, and won’t let himself flinch under the sorrow that floods Courfeyrac’s eyes.  “I have to get away from here.”

Let me come with you.

“Don’t go,” Courfeyrac pleads.  “Not right away.  Think it over another few days.  Talk it over with Enjolras, with Combeferre.  They’ll have better ideas than me, I’m sure.  They’ll know what to do.”

A shiver of nausea runs through Feuilly at the thought of Combeferre picking apart his neuroses, of Enjolras knowing just how deep the rot goes in his spirit.  Doesn’t Courfeyrac know he’s the only person alive that Feuilly would dare tell even this much?

It’s not Combeferre’s philosophizing or Enjolras’s blinding hope he needs.  He knows what he needs, but he doesn’t deserve it.  He holds himself back from asking.

“One night?” Courfeyrac begs.  “Please, Feuilly.”

It’s okay to be afraid.

Feuilly shakes his head.  “Goodbye.”

He closes the door behind him, and Courfeyrac could have stopped him but he didn’t know the right words.

OMG, KAT.  😀  That was EXACTLY AS ANGSTY AS I WAS HOPING FOR AND YOU ARE THE BEST.  *_*

(Only, DAMN it, now I want to know more about this au!  XD  I LOVE THIS.  I honestly can’t words very well right now because I’m deep in grading hell, but seriously I LOVE THIS.  *_*  I hope my capslocky flailing is enough to convey that.  ;D)

Do you have any headcanons about modern Grantaire?

thecoffeetragedy:

SO MANY. [cracks knuckles]

  • He has three dogs. They’re his babies and he loves them so much.  He also has a little dog walking ‘business’ going on. The old ladies from his block pay him back in fudge and home-knit slippers and cakes. He’s definitely not complaining.
  • Winter is his favourite season! He loves gathering all of his friends in one place and just sitting around and chatting over coffee and watching snowflakes sparkle in people’s hair.
  • He makes his own furniture out of stuff people throw out. At first it was because it was cheaper, now he just thinks it fits what he needs better than store-bought stuff. Plus he hates shopping and can’t be bothered to go to the stores.
  • So, you know, it’d make sense that he picks up crocheting as well, you know? 
  • Total coffee snob. Him and Combeferre both. They argue about it a lot. Good naturedly, of course – or is it?
  • … He probably starts making his own beer at some point. His own cider. His own wine. All with varying degrees of success.

… now, BACKSTORY TIME. (I’m sorry, it’s long. tw for crappy relationship with parents, alchoolism, homelessness and depression.)

  • Grantaire is from your typical suburban upper middle class family; closest to his older sister. Not close at all to either of his parents. His childhood was, in his own words, the most typical for a family like his. He was kind of a class clown, couldn’t stay quiet or sit still in school, so his mother put him in so many extracurricular sports and activities – piano lessons, dancing, painting, martial arts, soccer – well, football in France. Anything to help him focus or let go of that extra energy. He dropped pretty much everything after a few years, though. He claims he hated every single one of these, but actually he wonders where he would be if he’d kept up at it until he was actually good.
  • He studied art history and political science in college and he absolutely hated it. He didn’t know what he was doing there; he’s pretty sure he went to college only because it was expected of him, because he didn’t know what else to do. He parties more than he studies, tries to run from the pressure of everyone asking him to chose something to do with his life. He announces he’s dropping out in the middle of his degree. His parents, furious, threaten to cut him off. He lasts one more semester before he just can’t anymore. He stops going to class, fails, his gpa drops. 
  • That’s probably the lowest point of his life. There’s no way he’s going back to his parents’ house – besides, he’s not talking to them anymore. His sister’s not an option – she just had a baby, and he nows seeing him like that would break her heart. And she’d be disappointed. He doesn’t think he can cope with that, he’s already disappointed everyone else in his life.

Keep reading