personalmephistopheles: Image of Jamie Campbell Bower as Christopher Marlowe in the TNT show 'Will' (Default)
 [Originally written for the site Stage Door Dish, and posted on 20 March 2013; later cross-posted via link to Wordpress 21 August 2013 and eventually completely reposted on Wordpress in November 2018]

Both on stage and in film, there are three fundamental things which can either establish a character as memorable for the audience or leave them in obscurity. The first two of these are writing and acting, which often end up going hand in hand, but the third, costuming, is arguably just as important. It is costuming, in combination with acting and writing, which in the recent film adaptation of The Hobbit, created thirteen distinct characters from what could have been a shapeless mass of dwarves. In this same way, the costume designers for Tom Hooper’s adaptation of Les Misérables were able to create distinct looks for each of the barricade boys, and as a result, even new fans can distinguish them from one another and develop ideas about them based on how their personalities are expressed in things as subtle as the colour schemes of their clothing. How did they do this? Let’s take a look!

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personalmephistopheles: Image of Jamie Campbell Bower as Christopher Marlowe in the TNT show 'Will' (Default)

Fandom: Les Miserables
Rating: M (whole series) / G (this chapter)
Setting: 1920s Prohibition au (dw tag)
Characters (in this chapter): Bahorel, Bossuet, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Enjolras, Feuilly, Grantaire, Joly, Musichetta, Marius Pontmercy, Jean Prouvaire, Éponine Thénardier, Jean Valjean
Word Count: 2565

General Summary: The ABC Group is a small organisation who operate purely on principle - a group of bootleggers who run a not-for-profit speakeasy known as The Corinth out of the upper room of the Musain Café, with all profits going to aid the finances of one Mr. Jean Valjean and his daughter.

Despite run-ins with rivals, including the notorious Thénardier crime family, the group has managed to thrive in the heart of the city, but things have taken a sudden turn for the worse, with the Feds slowly circling under the direction of BOI agent Javert.

[Note: There will be major character death in later chapters.]

Important note involving ages of characters: Most of Les Amis (as well as Éponine and Cosette) are between the ages of 23 and 30, with the exception of Gavroche, who is 14/15. Valjean is 60ish, but due to the way in which I’ve set up where his backstory intersects with Javert’s, Javert is around 39.

Chapter Summary: Marius attends a Sunday night meeting at The Corinth, and discovers that something is amiss between the ABC Group and their rivals, the Thénardiers.

Author’s Note: I started this as part of a Les Mis Across History event and only got two chapters in before losing my confidence. I would still like to finish it someday but don't know if I could do it as well as I thought.

 

The streets were strangely deserted as Marius Pontmercy made his way to The Corinth, though it was Sunday night, so he supposed that he ought not to be too surprised, even for this part of town. As he slipped through the darkened Musain Café, he exchanged curt nods with Mr. Valjean, the owner who was working late as usual – in part in case anything was needed upstairs, and in part because he could hardly afford not to. It was, Marius was aware, only due to his financial troubles that he had allowed the ABC Group, as Enjolras had christened them, to occupy his upper room, transforming it into the Corinth. Avoiding eye contact for too long, he hung his coat on an overloaded coat rack and mounted the stairs.

The lights of The Corinth were dimmed and the thick, faux-velvet curtains drawn, leaving bizarrely shaped shadows across the mural-covered walls of the speakeasy. Enjolras stood at the round table central to the room, his blond hair tied back from his face with a red ribbon – something that had initially drawn mockery, at least until his reputation for being as ruthless as he was principled spread through the city; Marius shuddered remembering the rumours about the consequences of crossing the ABC Group’s boss. He had yet to see him in action, aside from his impassioned speeches and remarkable efficiency, but it was hard not to fear the sharp, intelligent blue eyes and the set of his marble features.

“We are bootleggers on principle, not for profit,” Courfeyrac had warned him before bringing him up for the first time, “Any profit goes towards helping Mr. Valjean and his daughter.” At the time, Marius had been sceptical – who the hell bootlegs for charity after all – but after a few weeks, it became clear that Courfeyrac had not been exaggerating.

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Behind the Cut

Saturday, 22 December 2018 15:04
personalmephistopheles: Image of Jamie Campbell Bower as Christopher Marlowe in the TNT show 'Will' (Default)

Fandom: Les Miserables
Rating: E
Setting: Modern au
Characters: Bahorel, Feuilly
Primary Pairings: Bahorel/Feuilly
Word Count: 1509 

General Summary: Bahorel has a bad habit of interrupting Feuilly when he's trying to get things done, and over time, it's become a sort of game that they play, but eventually Feuilly's had quite enough. 

Author’s Note: I wrote this in early April 2013 for a friend who requested it.


It had almost become a sort of game between them. There weren’t really any rules to the game so much as it was just Bahorel pushing buttons and seeing just how far he could get before he got hit, or otherwise chastised into retreating. So when Feuilly heard the other man slip, as soundlessly as he was capable of being, into the flat, it was all he could do not to let an irritated sigh escape his lips before he returned to slicing vegetables. At least he wasn’t drunk this time - not with how quiet he had managed to be.

The game always began like that. Bahorel would attempt to get the jump on his flatmate - always unsuccessfully - and start in slowly, by his standards anyway, and then escalate things as far as he could before being told to fuck off. So when one of Bahorel’s hands slipped under his shirt to rest against the small of his back, Feuilly didn’t even flinch.

"'Evening." Bahorel’s breath was warm against the back of his ear, and his knife stuttered imperceptibly against a pepper.

"Bit past that," he replied mildly, his knife hand slipping easily back into its original rhythm despite a slight shiver traversing the length of his body as the hand under his shirt slid up his spine a little ways.


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