grantaire

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grantairings:

sarah531:

grantairings:

ahaha i started thinking about grantaire and also sydney carton ahaha why did i do that ABORT ABORT

*chinhands*

Tell me more

oh gosh they are mISERABLE thoughts i hadn’t thought about a tale of two cities in ages and then i saw a post about characters who are ‘hot, sad and possibly alcoholic’… and realised that i am dangerously drawn to people who fit that description because they have a way of making my heart twist – they are sadness and misery and brilliance all bundled into something that should be unlovable, they are so painfully human and certain they don’t matter all that much (they do, they do, they do) and they WANT not to care but care an awful lot (i have a soft spot for people who have love and love and love burning through them, for those who would give their life for it so so willingly)

You hit the nail on the head! (Hey, would this be of any interest to you?)

Stupid fictional love-is-a-conviction dorks. I should go read A Tale Of Two Cities again. Even though I only just read it a couple months ago.

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xmcuallerdrake:

guys, you know how in the brick grantaire falls at enjolras’s feet?

grantaire is standing next to him; they’re facing the guns, though enjolras, at the moment the report resounds, has his face turned to grantaire and is smiling.

grantaire would have to fall across and in front of enjolras to be ‘at his feet.’

when someone is shot, they either go straight down, fall straight forwards, or straight to the side. enjolras himself is pinned to the wall, after all.

guys

guys

i think grantaire may have made one last desperate effort to save enjolras’s life, even subconsciously, by falling across him instead, trying to block the bullets.

i think that might be what hugo was going for.

shit tits fuck my life with a chainsaw.

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But, if I had been rich, there would have been no more poor people! You would have seen! Oh, if the kind hearts only had fat purses, how much better things would go!
One of those Grantaire quotes from the Brick that makes me stare at the wall for a very long time

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Sometimes I wonder what Hugo was trying to say when he wrote Grantaire and his relationship with Enjolras (goddamn that novel, everything in its billion trillion pages was making a point)…

In a book where a lot of the characters are proper Heroes (with a capital H), willing to fight and die for things like freedom and justice, Grantaire’s not really that. He spends most of his page time drunkenly monologuing and then he manages to sleep through all the noble speechifying and glorious battles. He annoys people and he wastes his potential and his chosen nickname is just one letter. Spiritually, he’s about as low as you can get, except that he deeply loves, in whatever way, someone else.

Loves Enjolras so much, in fact, that he doesn’t want to live in a world without him- but also places him, and by default his ideals, so high above himself that he asks permission before getting in the way of his ‘fine death’.
Grantaire’s love is almost completely unselfish and that’s his redemption- Enjolras finally accepts him once he realises that the thing Grantaire was thinking, believing, willing, living and dying for was him.

So the point was, I think, “yeah, you can be cynical and depressive and a bit of a pain in the arse, but if you really love someone none of that matters, you’re worth something, you’re heroic.’ So that’s nice. I’m just gonna go cry now….

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playthatsadtrombone:

“Here’s an even better idea,” said Grantaire. “How about I take on eight of your hellish host? For each one of you I outdrink, you release a name on my list back into the land of the living.”

“You have yourself a wager,” said the Devil. “Who will we be starting with? This— Enjolras?”

“Let’s save him for last,” said Grantaire. “I’ll get to him.”

Or: Grantaire survives the barricades and marches down into the underworld to bring all of Les Amis back to life. They are all in hell because they are Deist heathens, the lot of them.

Oh my god-

someone write this!

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Les Miserables AU: Grantaire made Enjolras up

He knows the revolution will fail, he knows the world and his soul are both voids. He has nothing to believe in. He drinks.

From his position in the dark in the corner of the bar, he paints them all a leader- part man, part angel, leading them into battle. But his imagination only stretches so far. He takes the hand of this being he created. He dies beside him with joy. There’s still a little light in the endless darkness, there’s still a little light in him. But he can’t imagine living, let alone living with love. He buys red paint.

The barricades fall. He still drinks. His angel stares from the canvas half-accusing and half-pitying. Before long, only the paintings remain.

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