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  #141  
Old 02-25-2013, 10:00 PM
EmmaR EmmaR is offline
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Orestes Fasting and Pylades Drunk
;_;
feels
'nuff said

AWESOME ARTICLE THINGY I FOUND
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  #142  
Old 02-25-2013, 10:59 PM
soph-soph27 soph-soph27 is offline
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Default Javert's Suicide/Soliloquoy Feels ;-;








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  #143  
Old 03-08-2013, 10:40 AM
cheezemziez cheezemziez is offline
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A summary of the new movie:
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All my desperate calls
Echo off the walls
Back and forth
Then back again
At the bitter end
Salt and liquid blend
From the corner of my eyes
So let your heart hold fast
For this soon shall pass
There's another hill ahead.
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  #144  
Old 03-09-2013, 09:49 AM
wildwolf wildwolf is offline
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This video made me cry you guys
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Diytt-9M42w
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  #145  
Old 04-29-2013, 08:46 PM
soph-soph27 soph-soph27 is offline
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You guise. I wrote a fanfiction. I AM SO PROUD OF MYSELF. *cries* CC? Please? ._.

Summer, 1787- Middle of the French Revolution.

7 Years Old.

“Hey Grantaire, let’s play Revolution!” The boy with a mischievous smile and curly blond hair grins at his suggestion, positive his friend will agree.

“Okay Enjy!” The smaller buy with curly black hair and dark eyes smiles and nods. They run off to an old quarry, where there are several old brick structures.

The small, unloaded pistols that were discarded were at first considered as weapons, then rejected as “too scary” by Enjolras, when he saw how Grantaire’s face crumpled. The boys find a pile of sticks that seemed the right size, and hide behind the broken bricks, making pew-pew and boom! noises.

In the pond nearby, Enjolras strips off his tunic and dives in. Grantaire follows, but in his tunic, looking at his friend, sodden in his sleeveless top.

“You’re going to get your tunic all wet.” A smile.

“You’re already all wet.” Enjolras lunges forwards-stops- and falls beneath the water.

“Enjy, are you okay?” Grantaire stares quizzically at where his friend disappeared. There are not bubbles, and yet- something seems odd-

A hand grabs his ankle, and Grantaire lets out a strangled yelp.

“It’s just me!” Enjolras shakes his blond curls, but sees the hurt expression of Grantaire’s face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The boys dry off by running around a meadow near the pond and the quarry, and then end their day, sitting on one of the brick ruins.

“Enjy?” His small voice startles his friend, and when Enjolras looks at him, his dark hair is veiling his pale face.

“Yes Grantaire?”

“We’ll be friends forever, right?”

“Right.”

************************************************** ********

13 Years Later- Summer, 1799. End of the French Revolution.

20 Years Old.

“To the barricades!” Enjolras is shouting, flailing his arms desperately towards the piles of broken pianos and chairs, mattresses and beds, blue-grey eyes flashing frantically. He runs to the only place he can think of as he sees the soldiers closing in- an abandoned wine house, the upper story.

He’s sprinting, so he gets there before any of the soldiers, and finds himself blocked into a small dusty space. Sunlight filters through the boarded up windows, and the dust makes him cough. The pounding of the boots echo up the creaking, old stairway.

************************************************** ********

Grantaire moans, and pulls away from the slatternly girl who had attached herself to his head like a leach.

“I needed to feel like a woman before everyone is sent to their deaths!” she said in a high, breathy voice, rushing away.

Grantaire shakes his head in disgust and realizes where he is- where Enjy had promised they would meet, in an old stable that was blocked off, only that Grantaire and his friend had found a broken, swinging board that made it accessible.

He had promised. Enjy never- never broke his promises. Grantaire lets out a curse and leaps to his feet, shaking off the drunken stupor, his curly black hair laced with the faint accents of alcohol. He hears a large group of soldiers above him, an abandoned wine production center- Grantaire turns pale and sprints across the barn, sliding underneath the barn and struggling with the door to the derelict, closed off building.

************************************************** ********

The policemen and soldiers surround Enjolras, and his eyes sparkle, as his smile grows grim.

“Do you surrender?” the Chief of Police asks, in his low, rough voice, that reminded Enjolras so much of a bulldog his mother used to keep.

“No. I will keep fighting. My blood run quickly, and is hot. Even when you kill me, the fire of justice in the people of France will live on.”

The Chief chuckles. “Young man, we are the justice.”

************************************************** ********

Grantaire takes the rickety steps two at a time, leaping desperately, using the delicate banister railings to swing upwards, three steps at a time, four steps at a time-

“Wait!” he chokes, sobbing, out of air, out of the revenge he had in his heart to bring unto the soldiers. “Wait! When we die- I want to die with him-”

The Chief grins meanly, the tobacco stained teeth betraying his true nature. It was fine by him. “Two birds with one gunshot, eh?”

Grantaire pushes through the milling police and soldiers and sees Enjy, eyes flashing with a fresh power, knowing death was waiting, but still so strong-

Enjolras hears Grantaire’s voice and lets tears stand in his eyes- he would never cry, not in front of this scum, not in front of Grantaire.

Grantaire holds out his hand. “Enjy?”

The muskets are cocked and ready.

“Yes Grantaire?”

An ear-shattering boom! and the bullets come whistling towards them, too loudly. They can hardly be hearing, only whispers cutting through thick air.

Enjolras grasps his hand.

Grantaire looks ahead, dark eyes nervous at not what is to come, but what lies ahead.

“Friends Forever.”


Do you hear the people sing
singing the song of angry men,
it is the music of a people who will not be slaves again,
when the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drums,
there is a life about to start when tomorrow comes!

__________________
Reports of
my
death have been
greatly exaggerated.
-- Mark Twain
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  #146  
Old 05-01-2013, 03:46 PM
LizzieS LizzieS is offline
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Quote:
Originally Posted by soph-soph27 View Post
You guise. I wrote a fanfiction. I AM SO PROUD OF MYSELF. *cries* CC? Please? ._.

Summer, 1787- Middle of the French Revolution.

7 Years Old.

“Hey Grantaire, let’s play Revolution!” The boy with a mischievous smile and curly blond hair grins at his suggestion, positive his friend will agree.

“Okay Enjy!” The smaller buy with curly black hair and dark eyes smiles and nods. They run off to an old quarry, where there are several old brick structures.

The small, unloaded pistols that were discarded were at first considered as weapons, then rejected as “too scary” by Enjolras, when he saw how Grantaire’s face crumpled. The boys find a pile of sticks that seemed the right size, and hide behind the broken bricks, making pew-pew and boom! noises.

In the pond nearby, Enjolras strips off his tunic and dives in. Grantaire follows, but in his tunic, looking at his friend, sodden in his sleeveless top.

“You’re going to get your tunic all wet.” A smile.

“You’re already all wet.” Enjolras lunges forwards-stops- and falls beneath the water.

“Enjy, are you okay?” Grantaire stares quizzically at where his friend disappeared. There are not bubbles, and yet- something seems odd-

A hand grabs his ankle, and Grantaire lets out a strangled yelp.

“It’s just me!” Enjolras shakes his blond curls, but sees the hurt expression of Grantaire’s face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The boys dry off by running around a meadow near the pond and the quarry, and then end their day, sitting on one of the brick ruins.

“Enjy?” His small voice startles his friend, and when Enjolras looks at him, his dark hair is veiling his pale face.

“Yes Grantaire?”

“We’ll be friends forever, right?”

“Right.”

************************************************** ********

13 Years Later- Summer, 1799. End of the French Revolution.

20 Years Old.

“To the barricades!” Enjolras is shouting, flailing his arms desperately towards the piles of broken pianos and chairs, mattresses and beds, blue-grey eyes flashing frantically. He runs to the only place he can think of as he sees the soldiers closing in- an abandoned wine house, the upper story.

He’s sprinting, so he gets there before any of the soldiers, and finds himself blocked into a small dusty space. Sunlight filters through the boarded up windows, and the dust makes him cough. The pounding of the boots echo up the creaking, old stairway.

************************************************** ********

Grantaire moans, and pulls away from the slatternly girl who had attached herself to his head like a leach.

“I needed to feel like a woman before everyone is sent to their deaths!” she said in a high, breathy voice, rushing away.

Grantaire shakes his head in disgust and realizes where he is- where Enjy had promised they would meet, in an old stable that was blocked off, only that Grantaire and his friend had found a broken, swinging board that made it accessible.

He had promised. Enjy never- never broke his promises. Grantaire lets out a curse and leaps to his feet, shaking off the drunken stupor, his curly black hair laced with the faint accents of alcohol. He hears a large group of soldiers above him, an abandoned wine production center- Grantaire turns pale and sprints across the barn, sliding underneath the barn and struggling with the door to the derelict, closed off building.

************************************************** ********

The policemen and soldiers surround Enjolras, and his eyes sparkle, as his smile grows grim.

“Do you surrender?” the Chief of Police asks, in his low, rough voice, that reminded Enjolras so much of a bulldog his mother used to keep.

“No. I will keep fighting. My blood run quickly, and is hot. Even when you kill me, the fire of justice in the people of France will live on.”

The Chief chuckles. “Young man, we are the justice.”

************************************************** ********

Grantaire takes the rickety steps two at a time, leaping desperately, using the delicate banister railings to swing upwards, three steps at a time, four steps at a time-

“Wait!” he chokes, sobbing, out of air, out of the revenge he had in his heart to bring unto the soldiers. “Wait! When we die- I want to die with him-”

The Chief grins meanly, the tobacco stained teeth betraying his true nature. It was fine by him. “Two birds with one gunshot, eh?”

Grantaire pushes through the milling police and soldiers and sees Enjy, eyes flashing with a fresh power, knowing death was waiting, but still so strong-

Enjolras hears Grantaire’s voice and lets tears stand in his eyes- he would never cry, not in front of this scum, not in front of Grantaire.

Grantaire holds out his hand. “Enjy?”

The muskets are cocked and ready.

“Yes Grantaire?”

An ear-shattering boom! and the bullets come whistling towards them, too loudly. They can hardly be hearing, only whispers cutting through thick air.

Enjolras grasps his hand.

Grantaire looks ahead, dark eyes nervous at not what is to come, but what lies ahead.

“Friends Forever.”


Do you hear the people sing
singing the song of angry men,
it is the music of a people who will not be slaves again,
when the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drums,
there is a life about to start when tomorrow comes!

In the book Enjolras hates Grantaire.

Just saying. XD

Though I thought you read the book?
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  #147  
Old 05-01-2013, 04:50 PM
soph-soph27 soph-soph27 is offline
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Quote:
Originally Posted by LizzieS View Post
In the book Enjolras hates Grantaire.

Just saying. XD

Though I thought you read the book?
I know. But this is my idealistic fiction. It came to me in a dream. *holds out hand dramtically*

Then to calm my frenzied, sick mind, I read normal fanfictions. *nods* Yes, I read it, of course. Sorry. Ugh, I sound like an idiot.
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death have been
greatly exaggerated.
-- Mark Twain
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  #148  
Old 05-01-2013, 08:07 PM
EmmaR EmmaR is offline
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Quote:
Originally Posted by wildwolf View Post
This video made me cry you guys
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Diytt-9M42w
holy crap

aaaaaagh
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  #149  
Old 05-02-2013, 12:42 AM
AlgebraAddict AlgebraAddict is offline
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guise


the soprano line to Can You Hear the People Sing is SO FREAKING HIGH.


I mean WHAT. WHY.


I don't get it. ;___;




I AM THE ONLY SIXTH GRADE GIRL WHO CAN HIT A G. WHAT THE HECK.
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and I'll use you as a
w a r n i n g
s i g n
that if you talk enough sense, then you'll lose your mind



- I Found, by Amber Run
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  #150  
Old 05-02-2013, 01:14 AM
EmmaR EmmaR is offline
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Quote:
Originally Posted by AlgebraAddict View Post
guise


the soprano line to Can You Hear the People Sing is SO FREAKING HIGH.


I mean WHAT. WHY.


I don't get it. ;___;




I AM THE ONLY SIXTH GRADE GIRL WHO CAN HIT A G. WHAT THE HECK.
G IS A HIGH NOTE
I CAN GET TO Ab SOMETIMES AT BEST IN MY OPERA VOICE
SO CONSIDER YOURSELF LUCKY
Alto problems.
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