fic: Light in Your Head and Dead on Your Feet

[kiltsandlollies]

So someone said: Someone should write a story where Enjolras (poorly) sews Combeferre his first cockade (or the other way around. I get points just for knowing how to spell their names.) from spare bits of fabric. And someone agreed. Not really the first, but you know

Comments

[juke_box_dive]

*claps forever* I both can and can't believed that worked so easily :D When I was sewing your cockade, I kept thinking about where your dead Revolutionaries would have procured their own. This makes me quite happy. I can't believe Les Mis is making you write so much dialogue, too. I think that's awesome.

[kiltsandlollies]

If dialogue were a human, I would have punched him or her in the face 1,322 times by now. It would be really messy. But yes, easiest prompt ever! <3 Most of the cockades in the film version look tremendously old; my headcanon is that they were hidden away in old family bureaus and the students ran off with them when they went to university. (They're all away from home; everyone but Lesgles aka Bossuet is from the south of France and in Paris for their studies-except Feuilly, who's a fan maker and dead poor. Studies, and to wreck shit. But mostly studies-law, medicine, philosophy, heavy drinking, the usual.)

Poor Combeferre. *point to icon* Running like that, someone's bound to grab you and tear your cockade off.