biggest mood head cannon: Enjolras isn’t half the serious killjoy he makes himself out to be he just refuses to laugh at anything Grantaire says because then he has given the man too much power.
Okay but imagine R and Enj falling asleep and R sleepily murmuring some Greek myths to Enj and he casually throws in a really fucked up one in there (like Ixion or Pasiphae) and then Enj is essentially startled awake, sitting upright abruptly with the sheets pooled around him and the most alarmed look he’s ever had on his face, and just all he can say is “Grantaire what the actual fuck”
As soon as the faint rattling of the carriage
wafted up the promenade out of the fog rising from the river, the bell on the
main tower began to toll. The nightmarish sound echoed back from the moors,
leaving the will-o’-the-wisps shivering over their marshes. It reached the
edges of the dark forests where it got caught in the threatening arch of
spindling branches and trunks of the black barked beeches, birches and oak
trees in the rustle of a gust of wind. The last leaves clinging to barren twigs
sailed to the muddy ground on its back, long dead before they touched the bare
earth around roots that desperately hang on for what little footing the gaunt
earth promised them. Lastly, the eerie peal drifted down to the shimmering
lake, swirling above the surface for a moment before dipping under water,
muffled by the crystal waves. The sound of the bells resounded over the abandoned
manor house, clinking the window panes in their setting. It chased a couple of
ravens off their perch on the bell tower, followed them through the abandoned
gardens and settled on the wall surrounding the graveyard beyond the hill.
The ornate wrought-iron gates creaked open,
moved by an invisible hand to allow the carriage to enter the courtyard. Its
wheels scattered the light gravel in all directions as it took a turn in front
of the main entrance, a pale lantern dangling from the coachman’s seat. The figure
perched on it was swathed in a cloak that obscured both head and body, leaving
nothing to see but the gleaming eyes under the hood. Gloved hands held onto the
reigns of four black horses that seemed eager to run on, steam billowing from
their muzzles and ears dancing in excitement. The coachman restrained them with
obvious struggle. For a moment, the fight seemed undecided, then the horses
settled, huffing more steam into the crisp evening air. A door was opened, the
carriage house tilted to one side and gravel scrunched under boot soles.
everyone talks about how Grantaire’s name is literally the french way to say ‘R’, but why does no one ever mention the significance of Enjolras’ name???
i mean, the verb ‘enjôler’ literally fucking means to seduce with fine words why does no one talk about that
*Grantaire screams in the distance*
Ah, but see, the very real last name Enjolras doesn’t come from French – it comes from the more local language Occitan, from a word meaning “to terrify.” And “enjôler,” less florally, means to flatter or “to charm.” Oh, and the first syllable is pronounced the same way as “ange” – angel. Now what was his introduction again?
“Enjolras was a charming young man capable of being terrible. He was angelically handsome.”
Grantaire: So I congratulate Gavroche on catching Javert
Enjolras: Yes, good
Grantaire: And then I yeet Gavroche into the pit-
Enjolras: Grantaire! That is our SON!
¯_( ಠ_ಠ)_/¯ 