#combeferre
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I love these!
Take walks when possible, and examine the rocks along the path.
Combeferre: I have eight children.
*Points at Enjolras*:One.
*Courfeyrac*:Two.
*Feuilly*:Three.
*Bahorel*:Four.
*Jehan*:Five.
*Joly*:Six.
*Bossuet*:Seven.
*Grantaire*:Eight.
*Marius enters the room*: Ni- Oh, no, this one is definitely not mine.
Just courferre being soft
Les Mis Volleyball AU because I have no self control.
Enjolras is team captain and setter, Grantaire plays as an opposite spiker and they are unbeatable together. I was too lazy to do everyone but we have Bahorel and Combeferre as middle blockers, Jehan and Feuilly as outside hitters while Courfeyrac plays as libero. And once again I bring you brazillian Grantaire who played for Brazil for a while.
Virago Art Challenge 2018: Day 31
Combeferre had just joined us, and at this, he said, “The dormitory at Louis-le-Grand was nothing to remember with fondness, that I can attest to.”
“And yet we always found ways to amuse ourselves there, in that horrid freezing old room,” said Courfeyrac, and for once, there was none of his usual coquetry in this comment.
“Like the Great Dormitory Uprising of 1819, I suppose?” said Combeferre. “You found that awfully amusing at the time, as I recall.”
“Uprising?” I said with a smile.
“Our class barricaded the dormitory,” said Courfeyrac.
“And narrowly avoided being dismissed from the school,” said Combeferre.
“They had to bring in the gendarmes to pacify us,” said Courfeyrac proudly.
“I lived in dread of my parents getting that letter from the headmaster,” shuddered Combeferre.
“You know,” I said placidly, “Agnès was quite correct in her assessment of you two. You are, and always have been, utterly shameless troublemakers.”
–Virago1831.19
Combeferre and Courfeyrac as little Louis-le-Grand scamps, back when everyone still had Napoleonic hair. :3
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Virago Art Challenge 2018: Day 30
Sexy Enjolras and Combeferre. You see, I do know what you guys really come here for. ;)
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Virago Art Challenge 2018: Day 25
“To be honest,” he said slowly, “I must admit that my motives are not entirely unselfish.” He glanced up at me and quickly back down again, a flick of the eyes that gave off such intense feeling that I almost drew back from him. “You must know that I care for you very much,” he said in a careful sort of way that dragged each word out, in the manner of a child giving an excuse for a misdeed. “I’d like you to know that I—”
“It goes without saying,” I interrupted him gently, hoping he would be discreet enough to know when to hold back.
“No, I ought to say it,” he replied. His gaze was fixed on his hands where they lay in his lap, fiddling nervously with his cuffs. “I…For a long time, I’ve…”
“Stop,” I ordered him.
“Won’t you at least let me say it?” he exclaimed, hurt.
“It’s better that you don’t,” I replied, but as I made a move to rise from the bed, he took hold of my hand and said, pleading:
“Have mercy on me, I beg you.”
“You should go,” I said without raising my gaze from the floor. These fumbling attempts of his were terrifying. My heart was pounding as though it would burst, and there was a cold sweat forming on my brow. Standing there in only my nightshirt, my hand clasped in his, I felt suddenly the weight of this indiscretion as I never had before. It seemed to me that he must be staring at me, at the body outlined by that paper-thin fabric—the breasts, hips, thighs that my shirt clung to, the naked legs—and I felt that my face was flushed in shame.
–Virago1830.8
Even Enjolras and Combeferre (especially them!) had the “relationship growing pains”……
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Virago Art Challenge 2018: Day 22
Combeferre is totally capable of raising his eyes to heaven without expiring, thank you very much.
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Virago Art Challenge 2018: Day 21
Combeferre and Enjolras, and a lot of affectionate side-eye.
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Virago Art Challenge 2018: Day 19
Combeferre sighed, rubbed his eyes, and said, “I don’t know why I’m being such a bore, forgive me. These kinds of parties make me feel very low. I know I shouldn’t feel that way, and I know you’ll never understand because you don’t give a damn about things like class and wealth, but truly, I feel like a peasant in these places. And that’s when I start thinking, Well, at least in Gap I fit in with all the other peasants.’ He regarded me with a grave look and added, “You know that I would do anything for you, but if it weren’t you asking, I would never come to a place like this.”
I wasn’t sure what I ought to say to him. It wasn’t a subject that had ever come up between us. In my experience among the students of Paris, I had never met any young man who made class or wealth a prerequisite for friendship. All were free and welcoming with their affection, and our friends were among the most so. I had always known, somewhere in the back of my mind, that Combeferre and I weren’t equals in the eyes of society at large, but I had never seen the difference between us. Even if I did consider our respective social positions, I could not fathom where the difference was between a man born of small-town bourgeois and a woman born of rural nobility.
But it pained me that a man so noble in spirit could be brought low by these shallow creatures who happened to have been born noble in blood. It pained me even more to be the one who had exposed him to that humiliation, and I resolved that if it were a choice between Agnès and Combeferre on this issue, surely my duty was to him first.
“All right,” I said at last. “I’m done playing by Agnès’ rules. She wanted me to avoid causing a scandal, by which I suppose she meant I should treat you carefully and avoid giving any grounds for gossip. But you know, I think I just realized how we might make this awful party a little more interesting.”
“Oh là,” said Combeferre with a sigh. “This is going to get us into trouble, isn’t it.”
“I’m sure Agnès will be furious with me,” I said, “but I can live with that. I want you to know with absolute certainty that I think you’re a far better man than these fools are.”
“Saying that is enough, you don’t have to—”
“No, I want them to know it too.”
He caught my little smile, and said apprehensively, “What kind of scandal did you have in mind?”
“Not a big one,” I said. “I’m not that ambitious tonight. Just a little scandal will do.” And I took him by the hand. “Dance with me.”
He drew back from me a bit, shocked. “I can’t do that.”
“You can’t dance?”
“Of course I can dance,” he said indignantly. “It’s just…I’m not—and you—and Agnès!—And I thought you hated dancing anyway. ‘Meaty hands,’ and all that.”
I laughed. “Come on, let’s go in.”
“This is foolishness,” Combeferre murmured, but he didn’t resist as I pulled him into the room and towards the dance floor. “And you’re going to try to lead, aren’t you.”
“I’ll let you lead,” I offered generously.
“Very kind of you.”
“Uh-oh, there’s Agnès,” I said, steering him a bit off course. “Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.”
“You know, you really don’t need to prove anything to anyone,” Combeferre said timidly, a final, desperate effort as we reached the floor.
“Be a man, citizen,” I commanded him, and I placed his hand firmly on my waist. “You have your orders, now complete the mission.”
Combeferre stood undecided for a moment, gazing reluctantly at the other dancing couples. At last making up his mind, he gave a short nod, suddenly every inch my level-headed lieutenant, took my hand, and pulled me out onto the floor. His hand, resting at the small of my back, steered me gently through the steps with steady self-assurance.
“Hold me closer,” I instructed him. “Make it a little more indecent, if you please.”
In those days the waltz was danced either at arms’ length—the polite style, for society balls—or else pressed closely together—the vulgar style, good only for the lowest of dancehalls and guinguettes. Naturally we had both been trained in the polite style, but a nice taste of scandal could be sparked just by drawing the partner a bit closer than was considered acceptable. I did not go so far as to press my body to his, but as we moved across the floor together, we were close enough to feel the whisper of contact as the silk of my bodice brushed against the wool of his coat lapels. Combeferre was struggling not to blush at that sensation, but to his credit, he did his job admirably and with the greatest professionalism.
–Virago, 1828.15
Among the many reasons Enjolras can’t be brought into polite society…
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laissezferre said: speaking of monks, did you not write a “the name of the rose”-inspired les mis fanfic oh so long ago? i also vaguely remember a lancet-obsessed combeferre in another fic. am i hallucinating or was that another author?
There was a cutter Combeferre, yes. Which was weird, because he was, like, deathly afraid of his leeches, but he was “addicted to the knife,” so to speak. Huh? It was funny, when I wrote that one (like, a million and two years ago now), I had very concerned commenters being like, “this isn’t autobiographical, is it? do you need help?” Which, if you guys knew me IRL, is pretty crazy, since I’m terrified of needles, much less of cutting implements. So yeah, not a cutter, lol. God, don’t remind me of my high school fanfics, it makes me blush, and not in a good way. ;)
“Name of the Rose”-inspired Les Mis fic? I don’t thinkI ever wrote that……but some days I also don’t remember what I had for breakfast, so……If that ever was written, it would be hilarious and probably not a good thing for me to read, because I would laugh my ass off instead of taking it seriously.
I did write a slip of a plot bunny once where Combeferre was a monk, but I’m not sure if I ever put that anywhere on the internet. In that AU, he and a couple of the other Friends were Maurist monks at St-Germain-des-Pres in 1789, right before the Revolution, and all the rest of the Friends (incl. Enjolras and Courfeyrac) were laymen/revolutionaries-to-be. I never made it too far into that one, but it would have gotten quite awkward indeed by the point of the Sept. Massacres………Maybe that’s the one you’re thinking of? I mean, how many Les Mis AUs can there be involving monks…?
yES that was the monk fic i was talking about. this is the one where novice!jehan is a precious ray of sunshine and makes combeferre blush bc ordained!combeferre has just met enjolras (in a pub???) and can’t stop thinking about him and the feel of his fingers under combeferre’s chin. oh god i remember more details in this fic than i should care to.
Oh my gawd you remember more about this fic than I do!! This is what I remember: Combeferre was a monk, Prouvaire was (yes) a novice, Bahorel was a lay brother, and everyone else were laymen/revolutionaries plotting in cafes (sooooo, like normal, except in the first revolution). I think Courfeyrac was Enjolras’ cousin (he often is in my stories), and I also remember that it was only 1789 in the beginning, so both Courfeyrac and Enjolras were still using particles, so they were called “de Courfeyrac” and “d’Enjolras” (lol). Also yeah, as I recall, Prouvaire was pretty jealous when he heard about Combeferre meeting Enjolras (sorry, “d’Enjolras” =___=).
I can’t believe I put that on the internet………..I mean, not because it was terribly written or anything (I dunno, maybe it was, I don’t really remember!), but because, you know, monks don’t really sell, so to speak. (In plain speak: I figured no one would care but me. ;)) But I do remember really liking that AU setting, because it just makes so much sense for Combeferre to be a monk, I just can’t even. Esp. an 18th-century Maurist, he’d be researching and writing Latin treatises all day! I also amused myself with layman Enjolras trying to convert Combeferre both to layman life and also to revolutionary life, like, at the same time. Like as if Combeferre could’ve been a revolutionary monk or something. I never finished the thing, of course, but I can tell you that it almost certainly ended in disaster for everyone involved. I mean, the monks’ monastic vows would’ve been dissolved pretty quickly (1789/1790) and they would’ve been kicked out of St-Germain (whose goods and manuscripts and all would’ve been seized) and they would’ve been pressured to become laymen. The Sept. Massacres killed a bunch of priests at St-Germain, and then the monastery’s buildings were also burned down by sans-culottes mobs, so……..it pretty much sucked to be a St-Germain monk in the Revolution. I have a feeling this would’ve been a very contentious/tortured Combeferre/Enjolras relationship, like, one that none of their friends approved of…
Man, now I’ve gotta dig around and see if I can’t find that file again…Gotta see if you’re remembering right! ;)
Oh geez, so I found it, and I just read the whole damn thing (or everything there was, anyway), and just whoa. It’s so…not good. Or, I mean…some of the concepts were good, and the AU setting, but…whoa. That writing. And some of the plotting makes very little sense. Like, why is this d’Enjolras dude stalking this poor monk? Wtf did Brother Miquel ever do to deserve being stalked, d’Enjolras, you creep? It must have been “fatalité,” because there was no legit reason given for that weird UST attraction between them. >___< Definitely could’ve used some filling out of that relationship.
I will admit, there were a few evocative parts, though. And yeah, your memory’s pretty spot on–those things you mentioned did in fact happen. And yeah, Prouvaire was in one of those “no longer a boy, not yet a man” states, where he’s trying to get Combeferre’s attention, but Combeferre’s just like, oh hey, you’re that kid I watched grow up, nope, I have no plans to fuck you any time soon. Also, I think this was written when I was in undergrad, and back then I apparently knew appalling little about how monasteries actually worked…….unless 18th-century monasteries were different in huge fundamental ways from medieval monasteries (I mean, they were, but still–HUGE fundamental ways). I also probably knew very little about the French Revolution either, I’m guessing…But the monastery ignorance annoys me more, esp. because I feel like I can write much, much better monk dialogue now. The monks’ dialogue and internal monologues in this read a little how I’d imagine the script of Satan’s Alley would read: super melodramatic, chock full of Catholic guilt with a big heaping helping of sexual frustration on the side, and with the word “God” or “sin” in, like, every other sentence. (Almost literally.) The only good thing I did was make Bahorel a monk. He is amazing; that is all. :)
Man, I bet I could write a good version of this AU scenario nowadays…but why. It would be better to just change the names and write a real novel out of it. ;)
(P.S.–Courfeyrac was also an epic dick in this. I should be beaten with rulers just for that cardinal sin. Like, wtf? What’s your problem, Courfeyrac?)
laissezferre said: speaking of monks, did you not write a “the name of the rose”-inspired les mis fanfic oh so long ago? i also vaguely remember a lancet-obsessed combeferre in another fic. am i hallucinating or was that another author?
There was a cutter Combeferre, yes. Which was weird, because he was, like, deathly afraid of his leeches, but he was “addicted to the knife,” so to speak. Huh? It was funny, when I wrote that one (like, a million and two years ago now), I had very concerned commenters being like, “this isn’t autobiographical, is it? do you need help?” Which, if you guys knew me IRL, is pretty crazy, since I’m terrified of needles, much less of cutting implements. So yeah, not a cutter, lol. God, don’t remind me of my high school fanfics, it makes me blush, and not in a good way. ;)
“Name of the Rose”-inspired Les Mis fic? I don’t thinkI ever wrote that……but some days I also don’t remember what I had for breakfast, so……If that ever was written, it would be hilarious and probably not a good thing for me to read, because I would laugh my ass off instead of taking it seriously.
I did write a slip of a plot bunny once where Combeferre was a monk, but I’m not sure if I ever put that anywhere on the internet. In that AU, he and a couple of the other Friends were Maurist monks at St-Germain-des-Pres in 1789, right before the Revolution, and all the rest of the Friends (incl. Enjolras and Courfeyrac) were laymen/revolutionaries-to-be. I never made it too far into that one, but it would have gotten quite awkward indeed by the point of the Sept. Massacres………Maybe that’s the one you’re thinking of? I mean, how many Les Mis AUs can there be involving monks…?
yES that was the monk fic i was talking about. this is the one where novice!jehan is a precious ray of sunshine and makes combeferre blush bc ordained!combeferre has just met enjolras (in a pub???) and can’t stop thinking about him and the feel of his fingers under combeferre’s chin. oh god i remember more details in this fic than i should care to.
Oh my gawd you remember more about this fic than I do!! This is what I remember: Combeferre was a monk, Prouvaire was (yes) a novice, Bahorel was a lay brother, and everyone else were laymen/revolutionaries plotting in cafes (sooooo, like normal, except in the first revolution). I think Courfeyrac was Enjolras’ cousin (he often is in my stories), and I also remember that it was only 1789 in the beginning, so both Courfeyrac and Enjolras were still using particles, so they were called “de Courfeyrac” and “d’Enjolras” (lol). Also yeah, as I recall, Prouvaire was pretty jealous when he heard about Combeferre meeting Enjolras (sorry, “d’Enjolras” =___=).
I can’t believe I put that on the internet………..I mean, not because it was terribly written or anything (I dunno, maybe it was, I don’t really remember!), but because, you know, monks don’t really sell, so to speak. (In plain speak: I figured no one would care but me. ;)) But I do remember really liking that AU setting, because it just makes so much sense for Combeferre to be a monk, I just can’t even. Esp. an 18th-century Maurist, he’d be researching and writing Latin treatises all day! I also amused myself with layman Enjolras trying to convert Combeferre both to layman life and also to revolutionary life, like, at the same time. Like as if Combeferre could’ve been a revolutionary monk or something. I never finished the thing, of course, but I can tell you that it almost certainly ended in disaster for everyone involved. I mean, the monks’ monastic vows would’ve been dissolved pretty quickly (1789/1790) and they would’ve been kicked out of St-Germain (whose goods and manuscripts and all would’ve been seized) and they would’ve been pressured to become laymen. The Sept. Massacres killed a bunch of priests at St-Germain, and then the monastery’s buildings were also burned down by sans-culottes mobs, so……..it pretty much sucked to be a St-Germain monk in the Revolution. I have a feeling this would’ve been a very contentious/tortured Combeferre/Enjolras relationship, like, one that none of their friends approved of…
Man, now I’ve gotta dig around and see if I can’t find that file again…Gotta see if you’re remembering right! ;)
Because tumblr sucks as an art-posting website. I love details, my drawings are all quite detailed (or at least the lines are crisp), so trollish functions like auto-resize are not going to please this artist. I thought I’d make a post with a bunch of detail crops from my art, just for kicks: A.) because tumblr sucks, and B.) because I love artful crops and think sometimes they even improve upon the original picture. I’ll start with the drawings I did for the just-completed ViragoJuly Art Challenge, but I’ll also throw in others from previous Virago/Les Mis art that I think are worthy, and I’ll link back to the original post that each was posted in, so that if you want to see the full thing, you can. How’s that for organization? Bam!
VIRAGO ART CHALLENGE DRAWINGS
OTHER ASSORTED ART
Claude Enjolras
Combeferre
Courfeyrac
Aunt Agnès
Cici
Prouvaire
Feuilly
Bahorel
Laigle
Joly
Grantaire
Deschamps
Papa Enjolras
Louison
Pontmercy
Marrast, Morhéry, Blanqui, Raspail
Dr and Mme Combeferre
Yves Combeferre
Constance and Clémence Combeferre
Gigi
MULTIPLES
Enjolras and Combeferre
Combeferre and Courfeyrac
Combeferre and Prouvaire
Eh, some of them still came out a bit blurry, and I’m sure individual tumblr formats will absolutely wreck them, but I think the point was got across for most of them. I feel more satisfied, and this also works as a nice (almost-complete) compendium of the art I’ve done for Virago. :)
Okay, so I know it’s so-called “Courferre Week,” and I am posting this because I am stalling. ;) This is a several-years-old sketch of Courfeyrac/Combeferre that I was doing for a larger project, back before I had a “round” Courfeyrac for Virago. XD Forgive the weird contrast, the graphite was pretty degraded with age, so I had to choose to either A.) put even more time into fixing it up by hand, or B.) save that time to do a real Courfeyrac/Combeferre picture and instead simply boost this one’s levels on Photoshop. I think I chose wisely.
There is no way in holy hell that you guys will manage to guess what kind of project this was supposed to be a part of, but hey, it’ll keep you guessing, I suppose. :)
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Female Enjolras and Combeferre, looking a bit 1829. That is to say, contentious and sexually tense. Dick-jousting, a bit–Combeferre looks like he’s trying to assert his masculinity, which he’s somewhat justified in doing, because she does tend to take his gentleness for granted so much that she forgets sometimes that he does in fact have a penis and even a little bit of pride. Are they gonna fight it out or fuck it out? Hard to tell…
Forgot I never did post this one. I dug it out and finished it up last week while doing the last of the ViragoArt Challenge pieces. It’s good to be productive! :)
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