#feuilly would win

[autumnalmess]

Rip Les Amis de l'ABC you would've loved playing twister.

Not elaborating.

Just kidding ⤵️

#i think about this when I'm sad #just imagine it: intense gay staring from enjolras and grantaire as they stretch over each other #arguments would be had tears would be shed #bahorel would kick people #i just know combeferre would pretend not to be interested and then get super competitive #Courfeyrac almost dislocating his shoulder in order to win #jehan being strangely flexible (I'll die with this headcannon) #marius would be the first one out (sorry) #bossuet would get stepped on #joly would absolutely not play because there's no way hes getting breathed and sweated all over #feuilly would win #not elaborating #les misposting #les miserables #victor hugo #les mis #enjolras #grantaire #combeferre #courfeyrac #jehan

[kjack89]

To a Flame

For @themiserablesmonth Day 21: Flame.

Modern AU, Courferre, E/R, Halloween party shenanigans.

Read on AO3.

As soon as he set foot in the door, Courfeyrac kissed Grantaire on both cheeks. “Grantaire, my darling, you must tell me your secret,” he declared.

Grantaire, who had very clearly opted for the easy costume idea of dressing as Enjolras, arched an eyebrow. “My secret to what?”

“Convincing Enjolras to let you throw a Halloween party this close to Election Day,” Courfeyrac said airily.

Grantaire frowned slightly as he smoothed the front of the red hoodie he’d obviously purloined from Enjolras’s closet. “Election’s not for another week and a half,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, and normally by now Enjolras would be absolutely feral and obsessing over every poll to be released from battleground districts,” Courfeyrac said, having unfortunately witnessed this in person several times over. “Instead, I just saw him take a sip of a pumpkin-flavored lager.” He leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, “Did you drug him?”

“Of course not,” Grantaire huffed, rolling his eyes.

“But you were tempted.”

A smile twitched a the corners of Grantaire’s mouth. “I’m taking the Fifth on that one,” he said. “But the way I convinced him was easy. I promised I’d go knock doors with him tomorrow.”

Courfeyrac raised both eyebrows in exaggerated shock. “You’re going canvassing?”

Grantaire snorted. “No, of course not. I will be too hungover to do anything and I highly suspect he will be, too, so it didn’t really cost me anything to promise that.”

He shrugged, allowing himself a small, triumphant smile, and Courfeyrac shook his head, slowly smiling as well. “You are devious.”

“And you are…” Grantaire trailed off as he took in Courfeyrac’s costume for the first time. “Flaming.”

Courfeyrac smirked as he held his arms out to his side, showing off the exuberant flame costume he’d gotten a little drunk and made the night before. “I’ve been accused as much before,” he said with a wink.

Grantaire laughed, shaking his head. “Seriously, what are you dressed as? The burning of the Touquet Charter, perhaps?”

He waggled his eyebrows and Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. “I’m not nearly drunk enough for such a meta joke,” he said.

“Then what?” Grantaire pressed.

Courfeyrac patted him on the arm. “Patience, dearest Grantaire, remains ever a virtue,” he said primly.

“And I’m definitely not drunk enough to respond to that,” Grantaire said, making a face. He shooed Courfeyrac toward the rest of the party. “Go, mingle. See how many times you get called a homophobic slur.”

“Not sure it counts as a slur when it comes from a bunch of queers,” Courfeyrac called over his shoulder as he began to sashay away.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Just go.”

Courfeyrac obediently went, going to get himself a glass of hard apple cider before saying hello to everyone else, admiring everyone else’s costumes and demurring whenever anyone asked for further explanation of his own. 

Joly and Bossuet would undoubtedly win the prize for most cringe-inducing couples costume, having opted for their regular clothes with the word ‘DOCK’ written in masking tape across each of their chests. “We’re a paradox,” Joly told him, grinning when Courfeyrac choked on his drink.

Bahorel was resplendent as a princess in a sparkly pink gown. Feuilly looked a little put out by the whole situation. “If I had known he was going as royalty, I’d have gone a different zombie,” he said, adjusting the wig of his zombie Queen Elizabeth II costume, complete with a tiny stuffed corgi.

Jehan had also opted for a Queen Elizabeth II theme – of sorts, anyway. “Queen Elizabeth’s tombstone?” Courfeyrac queried when he saw what he was wearing.

Jehan just winked. “A gender neutral bathroom,” he said cheerfully, and Courfeyrac choked on his drink for the second time that evening. “But where is your better half? And what has he opted as to complement your flame?”

“He’s running late,” Courfeyrac told him. “He’s supposed to have all of his classes’ midterms graded by the end of the month so he’s been at work all day to get as much done as he could so that he can enjoy his hangover in peace tomorrow.”

“Like you’re going to give him anything resembling peace,” Jehan scoffed.

Courfeyrac smirked. “You know that, and I know that…” He trailed off and drained his glass of cider. “Need a refill?”

“Sure,” Jehan said, handing his mug over. “And don’t think I didn’t notice that you chose not to answer my question about what Combeferre’s going to be wearing.”

Courfeyrac just gave him a little wave, weaving between other guests, mostly non-Les Amis friends of Grantaire’s, in search of the bar. He almost ran straight into Enjolras, who gave him a quick once over. “I’m having sudden flashbacks to your more pyromaniac tendencies,” he said mildly.

“Don’t worry, I have no plans to burn down your apartment,” Courfeyrac assured him. He arched an eyebrow as he took in Enjolras’s costume. “Though the same can’t be said for your clothes.”

“What, these old things?” Enjolras said with a smirk, brushing his hand down the front of the t-shirt he’d crudely used magic marker on to spell out MAGA. “I went as an insurrectionist. Scariest thing I could think of.”

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. “I thought you said the scariest thing you could think of was the various state Secretary of State candidates who are election deniers.”

Enjolras scowled. “Fine, scariest thing I could think of and also come up with a costume for. Happy?”

“Always,” Courfeyrac said sweetly.

Enjolras glanced at his watch. “When’s Combeferre getting here?” he asked. “I want to see if I can convince him to come canvassing with me and Grantaire tomorrow.”

“Combeferre will be busy being hungover and feeling sorry for himself tomorrow,” Courfeyrac said. “He’ll probably be free on Sunday, though, if he finished his grading, at least.”

“I’m gonna hold you, and him, to that, you know,” Enjolras told him.

“I’m already signed up to text bank for at least five different candidates,” Courfeyrac reminded him. “And I just sent a shit ton of postcards reminding people to vote.”

“And yet study after study has shown that the most effective way of convincing voters is door-to-door canvassing using deep canvassing techniques—”

“Oh, look at that,” Courfeyrac interrupted brightly. “I think Grantaire just spilled on your hoodie.”

Enjolras’s eyes widened. “I knew I shouldn’t have let him borrow it,” he huffed, brushing past Courfeyrac, who chuckled to himself as he finally made his way to the bar.

He returned to Jehan with full drinks in hand a few minutes later. “Sorry for the delay,” he said, passing Jehan’s mug to him. “I was waylaid by Enjolras.”

Jehan took a sip of cider. “Did he give you the speech on deep canvassing?” he asked.

“Just as he does every election,” Courfeyrac confirmed. “One year we should convince him to dress as a preacher, and we can all dress as the choir he loves preaching to.”

Jehan laughed, and Joly and Bossuet joined them a moment later, both looking disgruntled. “When I swore to go through fire for Enjolras, I did not mean that I would sign up for every 8am canvassing shift he runs across for the rest of all time,” Joly informed them, a little sourly.

“It won’t be that bad,” Bossuet said bracingly. 

Joly gave him a look. “You’re only saying that because you inevitably get the cops called on you five minutes into it, and therefore get to fuck off and have brunch with Grantaire instead.”

“One of the few perks of my bad luck,” Bossuet said with a grin.

Joly rolled his eyes, but before he could say anything, the door to Enjolras and Grantaire’s apartment opened, and Courfeyrac stood up on his tiptoes to see over the crowd. He grinned when he saw who it was. “Jehan, remember what you asked me before?”

Jehan looked momentarily confused before his expression evened out. “Right, what costume Combeferre would be wearing to complement yours.”

Courfeyrac just grinned as Combeferre pushed his way through the crowd to find him immediately. “Like a moth to a flame,” he said smugly.

Jehan, Joly and Bossuet groaned in unison as they saw Combeferre’s moth costume. “Of course,” Jehan sighed. “I should have known.”

Combeferre raised an eyebrow as he leaned in to kiss Courfeyrac’s cheek. “Problem?” he asked mildly.

“Not at all,” Courfeyrac said, wrapping an arm around his waist. “They just don’t appreciate our couple’s costume.”

Combeferre’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t realize we were wearing a couple’s costume.”

“I know,” Courfeyrac said, even more smugly than before. “That’s what makes it so perfect.”

#exr #courferre #courfeyrac #grantaire #enjolras #combeferre #joly #bossuet #jehan #bahorel #feuilly #les miserables #modern au #fanfiction #hijinks and shenanigans #halloween party #halloween costumes

[lesmiserablesabridged]

An Interlude

Narrator: *walks in, clearly drunk, followed by Les Amis, all of whom are also drunk, including Enjolras*

Marius: I am flabbergasted by this, Enjolras. I'd have expected this from others, but not you!

Enjolras: I couldn't *hic* handle *hic* Javert's stupidity. *hic*

Narrator: Neither could *hic* the rest of us.

Marius: That's it, you're all getting drinking therapy. It involves getting into your beds and sleeping for at least eight hours. After having a glass of water.

Combeferre: *hic* Excuse me *hic*, but me and Joly are the doctors around here. *hic*

Joly: *hic* It's true. *hic* We doctors know best. *hic*

Marius: *glaring* To beds. Now. All of you.

Narrator: We'd like to *hic* continue our *hic* little project.

Marius: You can't do it while you're drunk!

Enjolras: I am the leader. *hic* Therefore, what I say *hic* goes. And I say we *hic* continue.

Eponine: Marius!!! *hic* Love me! *hic*

Marius: Eponine. *sighs* I am married, and so are you.

Eponine: Heaven has *hic* unique marriage laws. For example, spouses don't have to be faithful. My husband *hic* understands that perfectly. *hic*

Enjolras: Indeed. Feuilly, Grantaire, Marie, let's go. *hic* It's time for our special hour. *hic*

*Grantaire, Feuilly and the Narrator follow Enjolras into the bedroom and close the door.*

Marius: Really?

Eponine: Yes. *hic* Now come along. *drags Marius to another room by the wrist*

Valjean: Right, so Marie had given me permission to act as temporary narrator for this episode, and all the duties that entails. *to the rest of Les Amis* And I am kicking you out of this gathering until you sober up.

Les Amis: Fine. *they leave*

Marius: *returns shortly after, having escaped from Eponine* Right, so we can continue?

Cosette: Yeah, we have this under control. May I suggest we bring in Javert so we can make fun of him?

Valjean: Good idea. *uses his temporary narrator powers to bring in Javert*

Javert: *is tied to a chair* Release me this instant!

Valjean: *ignoring him* So where did we leave off? *a note flutters by and Valjean takes it* Oh, yes, the dilemma.

Javert: *suddenly interested* That dilemma?

Cosette: Yup.

Valjean: So...the runaway cart...

Fauchelevent: *appears* I like this part!

Valjean: You like the fact you and your horse were crushed by a cart?

Fauchelevent: No, I like what happened next! It was a great example of family bonding!

Valjean: Right, so you appear onscreen and are promptly crushed by your own cart, along with your own horse.

Fauchelevent: The God punished me for being an asshole. I am grateful for him.

Marius: God? God doesn't exist. And if he does, he only like assholes. He is not punishing them. He is allowing them to win.

Cosette: *concerned* Marius, you're wrong, and...

Marius: *grabs her arm* Am I? Could we take a little break, father? I want to show everyone something.

Valjean: Sure. *presses the pause button and the screen freezes*

Marius: Thank you. *presses another button and a smaller screen descends from the ceiling.* "Now you're about to see what happened after you died."

Screen: *Shows Azelma and Thenardier on a ship heading to America. It takes them about ten days to get there, and once they disembark, Thenardier is shown carrying a large chest on his back, while Azelma is carrying a pouch of money strapped to her waist.*

Thenardier: See that man over there, daughter? Let's grab him!

Native American: *says 'hello' in Aztec language*

Thenardier: *grabs him with assistance from Azelma* "Now let's sell him for profit! I am sure that there are people who will buy him!

Azelma: Okay, father.

Thenardier: *later* And I've married the wife of a man I sold to slavery, and adopted their kids. Azelma needs playmates her age, after all.

Azelma: *has said kids strapped to a wheel* Now, play nice...or else.

Marius: *stops the video* If God were real, would he allow things like this to happen? Would he allow that villain to do this using my money?!

Valjean: All right. You've made your point. Now can we please continue?

Marius: I don't think my wife is feeling up for it.

Cosette: *is crying*

#les amis #jean valjean #enjolras #marius pontmercy #cosette #monsieur thenardier #azelma #javert #anti javert #les miserables abridged #sillyposting

[midasinc]

Jehan or Gavroche headcannons if you want and haven't done so already lmao <3

i would love to do them !

jehan:

-modern jehan is really into rap culture and i'll never stop using that hc. his poetry comes out in freestyling and he's really into going to local venues that hold competitions. he doesn't always compete but he still enjoys going and observing people's rhyme schemes and vocal patterns and filing them away as inspo for later

-canon era jehan owns a lot of weird things just because he has the money to do so. he bought the full hand bones of a human that's just displayed in a glass box. jehan isn't a medical student- he just thought it was interesting. he's a bit of an impulse buyer

-he's also slowly building a frankenstein candle in his lodgings. when jehan gets bored, he just starts melting candles on top of this massive pile of melted candles. it's about two feet tall at this point. he's really proud of it

-modern jehan tries learning to skateboard every 6 months. he takes a board out to the street and tries doing tricks, but almost gets hit by 7 cars, eats shit, and tore his newest sweatpants. so he goes home grumbling and puts the board away until he finds it again in 6 months and gets super excited to try again, forgetting how it went last time (he's been doing this for like 4 years)

-he also dresses super masc, talking like jesse pinkman swag, but uses stereotypical female scented body sprays. this dude walks down the street being the epitome of Dude but is also in an aura of Blueberry Sugar Pancake Smell. it's very strong, but it is pleasant.

gavroche:

-he has microtia, so his right ear is small and not really formed, and he can't really hear on one side. he's thrilled when he finds out that enjolras is fully deaf in one ear (this is my other enjolras hc and man i tried so hard looking for the post but cannot for the life of me find it rn). in modern era, he asks a lot of questions about enjolras's hearing aids and how he lost it and feels really cool that someone like enjolras is like him. this also means that he wants to try and be annoying on enjolras's deaf side until he notices bc it's still gavroche

-modern gavroche stole one of montparnasse's paint pens and has his own little tag that he likes challenging himself to put in very very secret spots that no one else will ever find. graffiti is a game for gavroche and he's winning

-feuilly teaches him to read in canon era. i think i just see a lot of gavroche in feuilly and feuilly would as well, so he does what he can to try and push him in the right direction. they have a really brotherly relationship

-modern gavroche also has problems of stealing and pick-pocketing. he's really fucking good at it, but it turns into moments where he's just stealing because. he doesn't even want the shit he steals. he goes into small shops and takes a bunch of chapstick and gum and eye drops and throws them in a shoebox in his hiding spot when he gets home. he got busted once for stealing a bottle of hand lotion. he gave them feuilly's number instead of his parents and feuilly ended up making him show him the boxes of things he had stolen. gavroche didn't feel bad when he got caught, but his stomach sinks when he sees feuilly pinch the bridge of his nose and turn around because he doesn't even know what to say

#ty for the ask ! #les mis #les miserables #les amis #les amis de l'abc #jehan prouvaire #jean prouvaire #gavroche #gavroche thenardier #les mis headcanons

[cumbercookiebatchs]

I offer you some pininjolras in this trying times

His name is Enjolras. He's beautiful. His hair is blond, perfectly blond with streaks of light chestnut that just bring out the stunning blondness of the rest of his hair. His eyes are round, and striking, and when they turn their harsh blue glare on anyone, that person stops immediately and is left to quiver in fear and bask in the radiance. He's gorgeous.

His name is Enjolras. He's who people fear and simultaneously love. He's a student leader. He is at the top of the class. People admire him.

His name is Enjolras. He's an angel. He sings, his voice is perfect. It's smooth, and it's breathtaking. If anyone were to look up "angelic" in the dictionary, there would be no definition, and only a picture of Enjolras. Because anyone who speaks to him os shocked by how entirely good he is.

His name is Enjolras. People fall over themselves for him. He's stunning, he's intelligent, and he's actually sort of saintly, as long as you're on his good side. Enjolras could charm everyone with his dazzling smile alone, twice over. People would do anything to get close to him, and he's well aware of that.

His name is Enjolras. He's supposed to be the object of affections; he's not to have them. He's supposed to be pined over; he's not to do the pining. He's supposed to be loved and adored by all, but return sincere emotions to few; he's not supposed to fall head over heels for anyone, nor is he to let it show.

But even Enjolras isn't perfect. Even Enjolras can't help it when someone like him is involved.

Enjolras is lovely, and he tells him as much. He tells Enjolras he's lovely when Jehan braids his hair; he tells Enjolras he's lovely when he's helping Feuilly sort food out for donations. But he doesn't say lovely in the way that Enjolras is desperate to hear him do so; he doesn't say lovely like he's attracted to it.

Enjolras is the personification of an angel, and he tells him as much. He tells Enjolras he's the personification of an angel when they walk together and people part to let them pass; he tells Enjolras he's the personification of an angel when he's getting his way through intimidation, and commends him for it; he tells Enjolras he's the personification of an angel when he brushes off people's comments about his looks. But he doesn't say personification of an angel in the way that Enjolras craves to hear him do so; he doesn't say personification of an angel like he's his angel.

Enjolras is desirably pure, and he tells him as much. He tells Enjolras he's desirably pure after he sings along to one of the songs Jehan wrote; he tells Enjolras he's desirably pure when he rests his head in Courfeyrac's lap in a meeting; he tells Enjolras he's desirably pure when he mentions wanting to help in kinder-gardens with Cosette in summer. But he doesn't say desirably pure in the way that Enjolras wants to hear him do so; he doesn't say desirably pure like he means it.

Enjolras is who everyone wants, and he tells him as much. He tells Enjolras everyone wants him as boys and girls offer to do favors for him at the drop of a hat; he tells Enjolras everyone wants him when the admiring gazes follow Enjolras shamelessly while they walk down the street; he tells Enjolras everyone wants him when he sees him scare a creep away from him with the most dangerous of smiles. But he doesn't say everyone wants him in the way that actually matters to Enjolras; he doesn't say everyone wants Enjolras like he's counting himself in "everyone."

Enjolras is frigid and cruel, and he tells him as much. He tells Enjolras he's frigid and cruel as he sees him smile at another guy falsely, his expressive eyes revealing the subdued fatigue he's feeling as he rejects yet another invitation on a date; he tells Enjolras he's frigid and cruel as he notes that some boy or other has been staring at Enjolras longingly for years, and that he has yet to actually reject him instead of letting him fantasize; he tells Enjolras he's frigid and cruel as he pulls away from him, Enjolras heart breaking as he stares back at Enjolras with a soft, sad expression. But he doesn't say frigid and cruel in the way that Enjolras needs for him to; he doesn't say frigid and cruel like he hates him, even though it would make things so much easier.

But even Enjolras doesn't get everything he wants. Even Enjolras can't win Grantaire's heart, through impulsive kisses of pent-up passion or otherwise.

This was so beautiful but I need an happy ending 😭

#enjoltaire #grantaire #enjolras #Thank you dear ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[is-it-mungojerry-or-rumpelteazer]

from Gimme Gimme Gimme:

“A pensive silence fell over the room, as his friends took in the story. In the end, it was Bahorel who broke it.

"Man, Feuilly is going to be pissed that we didn’t shake on that bet," they commented lightly. At Enjolras’ curious look, they shrugged, unapologetic. "We were commenting one day on the way you accepted Courf’s flirting a lot better than anyone else’s, and he suggested you two might be fucking. I didn’t think you were, and we almost bet a meal of our choice on it. Glad I didn’t, now. I already owe that fucker too much shit."”

This is from my new fic, "Gimme Gimme Gimme (A Man After Midnight)", a Les Mis fanfic.

Okay, so, I wanted to convey the idea that not everyone knew that Courfeyrac and Enjolras were sleeping together, but it's not that they are being secretive about it, just not publicising it. And considering that Enjolras had asked Feuilly to be his friend with benefits before, it made sense that he would be the first one to catch up. I mean, he already knows Enjolras is looking for something like that, the leap isn't that big. Also, Feuilly isn't a main character at all in this fic, but I like him a lot, and I love his relationship to Bahorel in most fics, so I wanted to make a nod to that.

Honestly, I see it happening quite frequently: Bahorel has a bad tendency to accept anything if you go "you want to bet on it?", and Feuilly profits blatantly from it. Look, he doesn't have much money, and he doesn't have much free time either, so hey, if he can make Bahorel do/pay stuff for him, he's not going to say no! He tries not to go overboard (and he won't cash on a bet if he realizes they really don't want to do it), but he definitely makes bets he knows he's going to win. One day Behorel will catch up and realize what's going on (they kind of know, but it's part of their dynamic, they like it and it gives them an excuse to hang out with Feuilly who's really cool, so they're not complaining).

The actual content of the bet was a [add something] for a long while, though. My first thought was a day of volonteering at the local homeless restaurant, but then I thought that it didn't work as something they would complain about. Feuilly doesn't need to bet anything to get Bahorel to do such a thing. So I went with the old classic of "a meal". If you have other ideas of stuff they've bet over the years, I'd be happy to hear them!!

#answer time #Les Misérables #text posts #my writing process #Enjolras #Courfeyrac #Feuilly #bahorel #Platonic Friendships #headcanons

[barricadebops]

okay so this is not exactly a title but I'd like to see what you think les amis would be like with eurovision taking into account only what you know about eurovision jsjsj

Oh my God, okay, with my woefully inadequate knowledge of Eurovision? Prepare to see me embarass myself with how little I know.

Read under the cut for Les Amis during Eurovision:

Enjolras- Avid fan. Enjolras LOVES Eurovision and he loves the way it brings so many countries together and how it gives relatively new and unknown people a chance, and this year he's there watching live because one of his best friends is the participant for France and he'll be damned if he doesn't scream himself raw cheering for him. But also, Enjolras has to admit to himself, one of the singers for Italy is really, really good looking and goddamn does he have a voice...

Courfeyrac- France's participant! Courfeyrac is an absolute fan-favourite because of how joyful, bright, and vibrant his aura is. His song was super upbeat and he was smiling all throughout it. He qualified for finals!! Everyone loves him, and he loves his two best friends, Enjolras and Combeferre, who both helped him write some of the lyrics to his song.

Combeferre- Much more of a fan than he'd care to admit. Normally he's all like "hm I have to study my mEdIcInE though" until Enjolras and Courfeyrac drag him to watch with them, but he's secretly a huge fan. This year there's no way he can pretend not to love it because THAT'S COURFEYRAC UP THERE AND HE'S SO GREAT.

Jehan- Avid fan!! They post a LOT about , but most of their posts actually focus on the outfits/costumes worn by the participant. Their blog has a lot of followers who eat up all the stuff they post about the fashion aspect of the show. Each year they declare which country had the best outfits, and true to their fashion sense, they end up picking the most outlandish one.

Grantaire, Joly, and Bossuet- Going to take a page out of @cumbercookiebatchs book and make Grantaire Italian, which means Joly and Bossuet are also Italians because they are participants! Normally, they're a relatively new band called "Two Bottles and a Worn Coat" and they're beloved amongst the Italian crowd even though they can't vote for their own country (is that right???) These three fools won the hearts of a lot of people in different ways. People love Grantaire's gritty singing voice, Joly's enthusiastic attitude, and the way Bossuet always seems to be laughing. They also qualify for finals!! (There's one thing Grantaire plans to do the day before the finale and that is to learn the name of the golden-haired man he's seen around performer France...)

Bahorel- Fan! Every year he makes bets with Enjolras and Courfeyrac about who'll win, but this year he doesn't because hello that is COURFEYRAC HIS AMAZING FRIEND up there. Also he happens to know a lot of the participants who end up performing, and Enjolras is always just like "How do you know all these people???" But he'll never say, just know that Bahorel's got connections.

Feuilly- Participant for Poland!! He is SO INCREDIBLE. His songs? Fire. His voice? Fire. His performance style? FIRE. He qualified for the finals easily and most people think he's going to win thid year. And he's so excited about that because what better thing than for Poland to host the next Eurovision? (That's the prize right???) His songs usually have to do a lot with social issues, and he's gained mass fan following for what he sings about. His original songs are just the best.

BONUS:

Cosette: Avid fan who attends live and makes mental notes because she wants to be the participant for France next year. She's got a FANTASTIC singing voice and is ontop of her game because she's already started writing her song.

Eponine: Fan of the fashion aspect of the show. She would really love if she could become the costume designer for France, she's got an incredible way with fashion.

Marius: The one who is completely clueless about Eurovision until Courfeyrac does the good deed of introducing it to him. This is when he learns that his father once won Eurovision in the past but his grandfather didn't approve of his song, so he never let his father meet with Marius again. This turns Marius against his grandfather forever and he instead hails his father as an icon.

Did I do okay??? Did I mess things up??? You gotta let me know.

#ngl I was this close to naming R Joly and Boss' band 'Preliminary Gaieties' but then I thought better of it #les miserables #les amis de l'abc #enjolras #combeferre #courfeyrac #jehan prouvaire #grantaire #joly #bossuet #bahorel #feuilly #marius #cosette #eponine

[sentinelstars]

Since I haven’t figured out how to work AO3 as a writer yet, here is a mini Courferre bullet fic thing that popped into my mind. Enjoy :)

Courfeyrac who is friendly and charming, and who flirts with his friends until they get flustered as a way to show affection.

No, seriously. He’s even made Enjolras blush and stammer on a few occasions, although admittedly he’s not as good at it as Grantaire. 

Courfeyrac who treats it like a game, even if he always wins in the end, it’s the initial challenge that makes it fun. 

Courfeyrac showing up early to an ABC meeting and shouting a pick up line at Joly and winking, only quitting once the doctor slaps him gently in protest and Musichetta hands him his drink with a warning look. 

Courfeyrac being told off by his best friend Combeferre, who is clearly not in the best of moods today

Courfeyrac draping himself across Combeferre’s shoulders and making kissy faces, throwing out a compliment that would make a nun pass out 

Combeferre reacting icily and motioning for Courfeyrac to sit down so that they can begin

Courfeyrac realizing, with horror, that Combeferre hadn’t even flinched at his valiant attempts at flirting.

Worried that he is losing his touch, Courfyerac walks over and sits with Bahorel, Bossuet, and Feuilly, missing the glare that Combeferre shoots at his back

Courfeyrac wrapping his arms around Bahorel and whispering in his ear until the man turns red. Courfeyrac sitting down with his drink, relieved that he is still just as charming as ever

But why didn’t Ferre react, then?

Courfeyrac slowly realizing that Combeferre has never reacted to any of his shenanigans, never blushed or stammered. The guide only ever looked at him over his book sternly until Courf backed off.

Courfeyrac making it his personal mission to get Ferre to react somehow, refusing to leave his friend alone for the duration of the meeting.

I mean, he tries everything. Cheesy pick up lines, physical affection, his trade-mark smile and wink- nothing works. Combeferre only reacts with a stern look that makes something in Courfeyrac’s chest hurt. He redoubles his efforts

“Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk past you again?” “Courf, we’ve known each other for 10 years,” Combeferre sighs, before continuing. “Sit down, you’re embarrassing yourself.” 

It’s cold, even for Combeferre, but something in Courfeyrac’s gut won’t allow him to give up. He only sits down and stops when Enjolras walks over, looking like he might actually murder the both of them

 Ferre gathers up his stuff and exits quickly, before Courf or Enjolras can say a word to him.

Courf sits at the bar and has an internal crisis, trying to figure out why- why Ferre won’t react, and perhaps, more importantly, why Courf cares so much, why he gets that feeling when Combeferre looks him in the eye. It feels like Courfeyrac is freezing and melting all at once, like that single stare has trapped him in a cage, yet his heart seems to be soaring far away, leaving him behind. 

Grantaire is next to him, rambling on about what classical figure Enjolras reminded him of today, and Courf isn’t really listening. Well, until Grantaire suggests that they go to a club with some of the others and get drinks. “Yes!” Courfeyrac blurts out before he can stop himself

At the club, Courfeyrac can almost forget about Combeferre, with all of the attention he’s getting. He has four sets of numbers written on his arm, although they’re all blurred by the sweat from dancing. He’s tipsy and laughing, with Bahorel’s arm around him, and yet he still has a nagging feeling at the back of his mind

Courfeyrac leaves to get another drink and as he’s waiting at the bar, alone, the hair on the back of his neck stands up, like he’s being watched. He turns around and there’s his best friend, Combeferre, standing at the edge of the club and quickly looking away

Courfeyrac walks over to him in disbelief. “Are you seriously trying to hide? It won’t work, I’ve never seen somebody look so out of place at a club!” 

Ferre cooly explains that he’s there as a designated driver for Joly, Bossuet, and Jehan, and it drives Courfeyrac absolutely crazy that even after Courf caught him staring, he still acts calm, collected, and unashamed

That feeling in his gut is back, and Courf follows it, flirting with his best friend as though he’s some common stranger at the club, not ceasing his efforts even when Grantaire tries to pull him back out to go dance

He becomes so desperate that he goes for horrible, awful lines that he hasn’t used since middle school. “I hope you know CPR, because you take my breath away,”

“I’m a doctor, Courf. Listen-” 

But that matter of fact statement sets Courf over the edge. He groans, waving his hand dismissively, “Fuck you, then! I’ll go find someone else to take home tonight!” He means it as a joke, he really does. But he can’t help but notice the air of finality there is as he begins to walk away

Combeferre grabs his arm and fixes him with that look, and Courfeyrac, is for once, at a loss for words. Suddenly, they’re walking to the hallway where the bathrooms are, and Combeferre’s lips are on his and he’s kissing him insistently. Courfeyrac, temporarily stunned, stands there, alcohol-addled brain taking a few moments to comprehend that Combeferre, his best friend, is kissing him

Once he does figure it out, however, Courfeyrac kisses back with enthusiasm, wrapping his arms around Ferre tightly, clinging on to him like he might leave any second. Courf feels like, without Combeferre there, steadying him, he’d collapse, because his knees are weak and his balance is all off

Suddenly, Ferre stops kissing him and pulls away. Courfeyrac looks up at him with a grin slowly starting to form, but his cheeky comment is cut short when he notices the look of absolute horror on Combeferre’s face.

“We should get out of here-” “I’m driving you home.” “And coming inside after?” Courfeyrac asks hopefully, wiggling his eyebrows.

Ferre blushes, he actuallly blushes, and Courfeyrac thinks that now he can die happy. That is, until Ferre says firmly, “No. You’re drunk. You’re going home to Marius and I’m going home to my bed.” 

“We can have a sleepover like we used to-” “No!” Ferre looks distressed, horrified at himself, and Courfeyrac feels his heart breaking. “Ferre-” he pleads gently, reaching towards him, but Combeferre holds him at arms distance. “You’re drunk. I can’t- How could I-?” the doctor pulls at his hair, before pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning.

Courfeyrac doesn’t even know how to react, he just follows numbly behind Combeferre as the doctor searches the crowd for someone. Vaguely, Courf wonders how one could go from being so elated to however he’s feeling right now in a matter of minutes.

He realizes that Combeferre is handing him off to Bahorel, who is sober, to take him home, like he can’t even bear to be in a car with him right now

As the guide goes to leave, sheparding Bossuet, Joly, and Jehan with well practiced skill, he glances back apologetically at Courf, and mouthes something that Courf can’t decipher amid the flashing lights.

When Bahorel gets him home and Marius brings him some water while he lies in bed, Courfeyrac can hardly drink it, too preoccupied trying to figure out everything that happened, and he drifts off to sleep. 

Courfeyrac wakes up with a headache, but he doesn’t think it’s from the hangover. He can practically feel Combeferre overthinking whatever happened last night, even from blocks away, and it pains him. He knows his best friend, and he can tell that he’s suffering.

He doesn’t even bother to change his clothes from last night, leaving a note for Marius and then practically running to Enjolras and Combeferre’s apartment.

He raps insistently at the door, and he’s about to start yelling when Enjolras answers, coffee in hand, golden hair askew. 

“What happened last night? Combeferre came in all in a flurry, totally interrupted my studying, and said something about you- being drunk, him taking advantage of you? He hasn’t left his room all morning!” Enjolras demanded an explanation, blocking the doorway. 

“Oh no, Enj, please let me through, I’ve got to talk to him, please,” he begged, making a pouty face before Enjolras sighed, moving to let him by. “You owe me an explanation and an energy drink,” the leader grumbled as Courf ran past him, knocking on Ferre’s bedroom door. 

It opens and Ferre looks horrible, as though he hadn’t slept all night. Enjolras, as tired as he is himself, stands and tenses immediately, about to walk over, but he pauses when he sees Courf wrap Combeferre into a hug. 

Ferre hugs back hesitantly, before saying, “Courf, listen, I don’t think-”

“Good. Stop thinking. Please, you’re driving me insane. Just let yourself- let us- have this. I’m begging you.” Courf pulls away just enough to grab him by the back of his head and kiss him insistently, and Ferre only resists for a moment before kissing back. 

Enjolras nearly spits out his coffee. “You- I-”

Courfeyrac can’t even hear him, too busy grinning up at Combeferre who is smiling nervously, and a blush, a blush!, Courfeyrac thinks with giddiness, is spreading across Ferre’s face. 

“Um- Sorry Enj-” the doctor starts sheepishly, and he’s stuttering, flustered, and Courfeyrac’s heart just about bursts. 

“I’m not!” Courf shouts excitedly, kissing Combeferre again, and pushing him back into his bedroom. 

Enjolras sighs, hiding his fond smile with his coffee mug and mumbling, “I’ve got to call Feuilly.” 

Later, with satisfaction, Courfeyrac thought that he really could get anyone to fluster, but he didn’t think he’d ever need to see it from anyone other than Ferre ever again. 

#this is so bad #les mis #fan fic #Short fic that ended up being kind of long #Courferre #Les amis #Courfeyrac #Combeferre #Enjolras #Grantaire #Jehan #Bossuet #joly #Bahorel #Feuilly #Musichetta #Has this trope been done before? #Triumvirate #Thats all #bullet fic

[astoryinred]

what are the most interesting fun facts about Leonor? :)

Leonor is what you would call a Basque irredentist, that is someone who wants a nationalist goal that is geopolitically impossible. In this case, this is the unification of the Spanish and French Basque countries into a single entity. This makes her a little extreme in her views and actions.

Leonor is about 24 when we first meet her in WAMP. This makes her about 4-5 years younger than Feuilly.

Her sense of style is consistently a bit more mannish, inspired a bit by Theroigne de Mericourt, a French revolutionary figure. This means riding habits and what they called an amazone style coat back in the 1700s.

Leonor's first language is Occitan, but she's also conversant in the Basque language of Spain as well as some of the other patois of the Midi. She is fluent in French but does not think in this language. She does also pick up a bit of English and Polish through the years.

Aside from shooting, Leonor's main hobby is playing chess. She's actually quite a master at several plays such as the King's Gambit. She's put this talent to good use to tactically win people over by besting them at their own game, literally.

[fixaidea]

4, 29, & 49 for Enjolras and Feuilly for the shipping meme? Because I could use a little bit of shipping comfort food, right now. ^_^

4. First impression of each other? Was it love at first sight? On Enjolras’ part it was, more or less, once Feuilly opened his mouth and began to talk. The physical attraction took some time - or rather, Enjolras took a while to recognise it.

Feuilly’s first impression was a spoiled rich know.it-all who probably didn’t know what he was doing, and would scurry back to daddy the first minute things turned tough. It took a while to completely win him over.

29. How do the handle disasters or emergencies? Minor injuries? Sickness? Mostly with the morose acceptance of men who know what they are doing might well cost them their life or freedom.

49. There’s only 45, I’ll go with the last one:  Any special dreams or goals they have as a couple? Any heartbreaks? Regrets? See, only after getting together with Feuilly did Enjolras consider that it might be nice to live past 30. What if they eventually retired and moved back South together?

Sometimes in the middle of the night they will discuss this, and then, and only then, it wouldn’t seem so impossible.

#Les Miserables #enjolras #feuilly

[pilferingapples]

for @shitpostingfromthebarricade , who very nicely asked for an elaboration of my partial disagreement with the idea that Grantaire represents “the people”  of France or Paris: 

First let me say again it’s a partial  disagreement; I do think he represents a specific segment of the people. But one which is not ~~**~~ The People~~**~~  which I will hopefully be able to explain here?

- As far as “the people” goes, that term-- that specific  term, “the people” detached from other qualifiers-- especially in Hugo’s specific  political-social group-- seems to have been used mostly to mean the workers-- workers, small artisan-merchants, maybe peasants. If someone in a socialist-writer text of the period is called a “child of the people” it means they’re from the working class; if they’re a Man Of The People , ditto. Feuilly is the representative of The People in the Amis’ group-- Enjolras even specifically says so, in the middle of one of his full-on visionary speeches--Feuilly,vaillant ouvrier, homme de peuple, hommes des peuples” (valiant working-man,man of the people--and then the transition/combo that can be read as “man of all peoples”  or “men  of the people” , plural (or, actually, as “the people’s man”, depending on what you’re choosing to focus on. Lamarque song rewrite go!) .  For a guy with very few lines, Feuilly is specifically carrying a LOT of social/political representation here :P (and of course it’s even more Symbolic because Feuilly has no known human parents; his class background is also his family background, he’s of The People, full stop, not of any more specific background. )

We’re never given Grantaire’s exact socioeconomic background, and certainly working-class kids could go into art studies in certain circumstances-- but Grantaire also has no apparent job and has a lot of middle-class-kid hobbies (boxing, singlestick, dancing, etc etc). Everything about Grantaire marks him as middle-class in background, currently choosing to vie-boheme it up. He’s definitely not a representative of “the people” in this sense. 

I also can’t go with Grantaire representing Paris, at least not Full On Spirit Of Paris.  Leaving aside that Grantaire specifically disavows Paris and his own Parisian-ness in Preliminary Gayeties, Hugo sets up very specific symbolism and character for Paris in Les Mis, and he’s pretty direct about it!

 Hugo’s Paris is wild, bold, anarchic, laughing, unafraid of violence, sometimes lazy or careless but essentially generous, bold, insightful and daring, and always  inherently inclined to liberty (and also essentially Romantic at its heart, because this is a Hugo novel and anything good has to be essentially Romantic at heart:P)  (and Hugo has a Lot of Feelings about Paris). Paris in miniature--Paris Atomized, Paris made human-- is Gavroche,  not Grantaire. Even among just the Amis, the one closest to being Hugo’s Paris Avatar is Bahorel, who shares so many echoes of the gamin chapters in his intro, the group’s flâneur-- flâner est Parisien!--and connection to the city,  in the same way Feuilly is their connection to the wider world and internationalist causes.  

But like I said, I do  really think Grantaire represents a part of the population of Paris! An important part! 

Specifically, he’s representing that part of the population that wants to take a damn break.   The part that feels that “of great events, great hazards, great adventures, great men, thank God, we have seen enough, we have them heaped higher than our heads”,(4.1.1) the part that having found a seat wants to sit.  The perhaps selfish, but very understandable, part of the population that is secure enough itself to feel like it will do nothing but lose in another revolution, that “some one whose name is all” that says “I am young and in love, I am old and I wish to repose, I am the father of a family, I toil, I prosper, I am successful in business, I have houses to lease, I have money in the government funds, I am happy, I have a wife and children, I have all this, I desire to live, leave me in peace.” (5.1.20)

That is to say...Grantaire is representing the apathetic, the burned out, and the bourgeoisie. 

This is certainly not the most flattering thing to be representing, but then Grantaire isn’t a particularly aspirational  character--not until the very end of his arc, when he stands up and announces himself For The Ideal. Like the people who close their doors,like the bourgeoisie who just wants to rest, he doesn’t hate the ideal, really...but he’s had Enough Trying, he wants peace and security and to not die or see his loved ones die,  and all of that is very understandable! But if he were genuinely happy  with that...well he wouldn’t be with the Amis at all. He also wants that Ideal, a better kinder world, and unfortunately to get that he’s going to have to stand up.

..Well, not him, personally,of course. When he  stands up he’s-a-gonna die, albeit in a super symbolic transformational/salvational way.  But the Not Very Subtle At All implication is that this is where the revolution wins: when the comfortable people , and especially  the bourgeoisie (well, as Hugo defines them), who have been sitting down, sleeping, wake up and take part. 

(This is of course true in a grand sense-- revolutions need mass participation! -- and it’s also true in the very specific sense of what went down in 1830 vs 1832. In 1830, a lot of the bourgeoisie did  get involved , and it’s a big part of why that went as smoothly as it did. But in 1832, by and large they said No Thanks We’re Good; a handful of students and some wild Romantics really was about all participation outside of the working/poor classes. But this is already so freaking long and this is not a Barricade Day post!) 

So: all of that very  long ramble is to say, yeah, I think Grantaire is symbolizing not The People (who are , symbolically and historically, already on the barricade)  but a specific and crucial subset of The People Of France (Or Wherever), which is why I never feel like I can go either “Yeah!!” or  “Ugh No” when I see a “Grantaire is the people” mention. :P

--sorry I can’t put them under a second cut >< , but these are relevant longer chunks of some of the quotes above!

Of great events, great hazards, great adventures, great men, thank God, we have seen enough, we have them heaped higher than our heads. We would exchange Cæsar for Prusias, and Napoleon for the King of Yvetot. “What a good little king was he!” We have marched since daybreak, we have reached the evening of a long and toilsome day; we have made our first change with Mirabeau, the second with Robespierre, the third with Bonaparte; we are worn out. Each one demands a bed.Devotion which is weary, heroism which has grown old, ambitions which are sated, fortunes which are made, seek, demand, implore, solicit, what? A shelter.”(4.1.1, Well Cut) 

The bourgeois is the man who now has time to sit down. A chair is not a caste.

But through a desire to sit down too soon, one may arrest the very march of the human race. This has often been the fault of the bourgeoisie. (4.1.2, Badly Sewed)

And it appears that they are going to fight, all those imbeciles, and to break each other’s profiles and to massacre each other in the heart of summer, in the month of June, when they might go off with a creature on their arm, to breathe the immense heaps of new-mown hay in the meadows! Really, people do commit altogether too many follies. An old broken lantern which I have just seen at a bric-à-brac merchant’s suggests a reflection to my mind; it is time to enlighten the human race. Yes, behold me sad again. That’s what comes of swallowing an oyster and a revolution the wrong way! I am growing melancholy once more. Oh! frightful old world. People strive, turn each other out, prostitute themselves, kill each other, and get used to it!

... I don’t think much of your revolution,I don’t execrate this Government. It is the crown tempered by the cotton night-cap. It is a sceptre ending in an umbrella. In fact, I think that to-day, with the present weather, Louis Philippe might utilize his royalty in two directions, he might extend the tip of the sceptre end against the people, and open the umbrella end against heaven. ” - (Grantaire, from Premliminary Gayeties, 4.12.2)

What, then, is progress? We have just enunciated it; the permanent life of the peoples.

Now, it sometimes happens, that the momentary life of individuals offers resistance to the eternal life of the human race.

Let us admit without bitterness, that the individual has his distinct interests, and can, without forfeiture, stipulate for his interest, and defend it; the present has its pardonable dose of egotism; momentary life has its rights, and is not bound to sacrifice itself constantly to the future. The generation which is passing in its turn over the earth, is not forced to abridge it for the sake of the generations, its equal, after all, who will have their turn later on.—“I exist,” murmurs that some one whose name is All. “I am young and in love, I am old and I wish to repose, I am the father of a family, I toil, I prosper, I am successful in business, I have houses to lease, I have money in the government funds, I am happy, I have a wife and children, I have all this, I desire to live, leave me in peace.”—Hence, at certain hours, a profound cold broods over the magnanimous vanguard of the human race.  (5.1.20, The Dead Are In The Right and the Living Are Not Wrong)

#long post #all of the words or none of the words that's how it goes #Grantaire talk

[thelawsofdaylight]

enjolras for the character ask?

thank you! 

How I feel about this character

heart eyes emoji 24/7

All the people I ship romantically with this character

asdfgfds if i could ship every single one of les amis with enjolras i would. and i can so i will! recently i’ve been more drawn to enjolras pairings that include combeferre, courfeyrac, and feuilly but seriously. any member of les amis/enjolras is a god tier ship.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

same answer!!! enjolras et ses lieutenants!!! enjolras & les amis!!! asdfghjkl ok but specifically i do go through the Enjolras & Combeferre Platonic Life Partners tag fairly often, so. those guys! and because i feel bad leaving out courfeyrac, triumvirate friendship wins this one!

My unpopular opinion about this character

this shouldn’t be an unpopular opinion but !!! enjolras is quiet and soft and he listens more than he speaks and the amount of non-barricade-dictating-it-necessary shouting he engages in is so small that it’s basically negligible

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

victor hugo if you’re reading this give me more canon interactions between enjolras and feuilly!!! 

send me a character and i’ll do the thing!

#dayneslegacy #ask #enjolras #i am..... overcome with love for enjolras... as always #it's the universal experience

[kjack89]

Ooh, prompt for "I never stood a chance, did I?"

ExR (ish), Grantaire x folks who are, unfortunately to him most of all, not Enjolras, modern AU. Not sure any of them ever stood a chance. 

To say that a hush fell over the assembled crowd in the back room of the Musain when Grantaire walked in holding the hand of an unknown guy was probably an exaggeration, but not by much. All eyes were seemingly on both of them as they made their way to a table, and only picked up again when both sat.

Courfeyrac, always one for the latest in gossip, quickly headed over to where Joly and Bossuet were sitting. “Who’s the new guy?” he asked, sitting down next to Joly. 

Bossuet shrugged. “Dunno,” he said unconcernedly. “Grantaire hasn’t deigned to introduce us yet. Probably afraid we’ll scare him away.” He sniffed, clearly insulted. “As if he isn’t capable of that on his own.”

“Well, you’re not wrong there,” Courfeyrac said, glancing over at Grantaire and his new beau with a look of mild curiosity. “So how long do you think this one will last?”

Joly just snorted, not even bothering to look up from his phone. “Five dates,” he said, a mix of grim and resigned. “It’s always five dates.”

“You never know,” Bossuet said bracingly, ever the optimist. “Maybe this one will be different.”

Joly gave him a look. “Five dates,” he repeated flatly.

“What’re we betting on?” Bahorel asked, leaning back in his chair and interjecting himself smoothly into the conversation.

“We’re not betting on anything—“ Joly started, but Bossuet cut him off.

“Over/under on how long Grantaire and his new lover will last,” he said, nodding in Grantaire’s direction. “Line is 5 dates.”

Bahorel gave Grantaire and his new man a quick once over. “I’ll take the under.”

Joly scowled. “We’re not betting.”

“I’ll take those odds,” Feuilly said, not even bothering to pretend he hadn’t been eavesdropping, offering his hand for Bahorel to shake.

“Same,” Bossuet said with a firm nod.

He looked pointedly at Joly, who rolled his eyes. “I’m sticking with five. It’s always five.”

“Fine,” Bossuet said, sticking his tongue out at him. “But when I win, I’m saying ‘I told you so’.”

Joly didn’t look worried. “And when I win,” he said, “I look forward to taking your money.” He took a sip of his beer before adding, “Easiest twenty bucks I ever made.”

----------

Exactly four Les Amis meetings later, Grantaire turned up dateless. “Don’t tell me you broke up with him,” Bossuet said, a little desperately.

Grantaire shrugged. “It just...didn’t work out.”

Joly met Bossuet’s eyes, something like satisfaction in his expression. “Oh no,” he said. “That’s too bad. We really liked him.”

He didn’t sound remotely convincing, but Grantaire didn’t seem to notice, just shrugging and watching Enjolras stand up at the front of the room. “I’m sure you’ll survive,” he said, a little vaguely.

Bossuet leaned over, surreptitiously sliding a twenty dollar bill to Joly. “I know, I know,” he muttered. “You told me so.”

Joly just shook his head, pocketing the money. “It’s always five dates,” he said with a sigh.

----------

The five date rule – as Joly called it, though Grantaire stubbornly insisted it was more of a five date guideline than anything – started because of Enjolras.

Grantaire had been casually seeing a perfectly lovely woman who had seemed, at least that far, willing to overlook his many glaring flaws, and brought her to a Les Amis meeting for their third date. And then their fourth. 

And it was on their fifth date that Enjolras, who had never quite grasped the concepts of ‘casual’ or ‘subtle’, had remarked, a little sourly, “I’ll take it she’s going to become a regular attendee, then?”

Needless to say, she never came back after that.

Joly postulated that the cycle went something like this: Grantaire met someone and managed to convince them to agree to a date. On said date, Grantaire was his most charming, and funny, and it was enough to secure a second date, and then a third, which was usually when he brought them to a Les Amis meeting. The third date, of course, by the unwritten rules of the universe, was also the date where sex happens. After having sex, Grantaire panicked because this person wasn’t the person he would actually like to be having sex with, and desperately initiated another date in hopes that he’ll convince himself to have feeling for this person instead, and thus there was a fourth date. The fifth date was one final attempt to convince himself that this could work, and they parted ways after that.

Grantaire, on the other hand, maintained that said cycle took far too much forethought, and he had never once been accused of thinking that far ahead. Instead, he told anyone who asked that he just got bored after five dates, and when he found someone who captured his interest, it would last far longer.

But it was, of all people, Combeferre who nailed it most succinctly.

“It’s because of Enjolras,” Combeferre told Bossuet late one evening when Grantaire and Joly had gone to get refills after discussing Grantaire’s latest disastrous dating attempt. 

“What do you mean?” Bossuet asked, curious, and not just because Combeferre normally considered himself above the whole nonsense of Enjolras, Grantaire, and the never ending dance they both pretended not to notice they were doing.

“It takes five dates for Enjolras to notice that Grantaire’s been dating someone,” Combeferre said simply. “And once Enjolras notices, Grantaire has no need to keep the charade going.”

Bossuet considered it for a moment. “Do you think he knows?”

Combeferre arched an eyebrow. “Enjolras, or Grantaire?” Bossuet shrugged and Combeferre sighed. “Grantaire might, though he would undoubtedly deny it.”

“And Enjolras?” Combeferre gave him a look and Bossuet chuckled lightly. “Fair enough.” He lifted his beer to take a sip before remembering it was empty and setting it back down again. “So who’s going to tell one or both of them?”

“Not it,” Combeferre said instantly, and Bossuet smirked.

“Looks like it’s gonna be Joly’s job.”

Combeferre shrugged. “Maybe,” he said. “But you’re the one who has to tell Joly.”

Bossuet’s smile disappeared. “Goddamnit.”

----------

But then there was a woman who made it to six dates.

And then seven.

And even Joly had to admit that maybe he was wrong about the five date rule.

Combeferre wasn’t so quick to give up, just watching Grantaire with narrowed eyes as he held this woman’s hand. “What do you think of her?” he asked Enjolras in an undertone.

Enjolras blinked as he looked up from the journal article he had been reading. “Who?” he asked.

“Grantaire’s girlfriend,” Combeferre said, looking pointedly in Grantaire’s direction.

Enjolras’s expression froze. “Oh, uh, Fiona?” he said, a little too vague to be accidental.

“Floréal,” Combeferre corrected. “Though I’m pretty sure that’s a nickname.”

Enjolras wrinkled his nose. “Not a great nickname.”

Combeferre scowled. “And not exactly my point.”

“Then what was your point?” Enjolras asked, matching his tone.

“It’s about the fact that Grantaire seems like he might actually be getting serious about someone.”

“And?”

Combeferre arched an eyebrow. “And I can’t imagine you’re thrilled about that.”

For one long moment, Combeferre was certain that Enjolras was going to deny it, or feign ignorance, or shrug it off in one of a million ways he had in the past. But then he sighed and set his pen down. “He deserves to be happy,” he said quietly.

Combeferre just looked at him evenly. “So do you.”

Enjolras managed a smile and held up the journal article. “I have a protest to plan. You could say that I’ve never been happier.”

“Bullshit.”

“That’s unusually abrupt, especially for you.” Combeferre didn’t so much as twitch and Enjolras sighed. “Fine, but I’m not the one who likes to brag about the size of my vocabulary.” He paused, looking over at Grantaire, his expression darkening slightly. “But I am. Happy, I mean. I love my work, and Grantaire…”

He trailed off and Combeferre shook his head. “If you think Grantaire loves this woman—”

“I don’t,” Enjolras said quickly – a little too quickly, and he looked away, his cheeks tinged slightly pink. “But maybe he should.”

It was Combeferre’s turn to debate between honesty and denial., but in the end, he just shook his head, his expression unreadable. “If that’s really what you think,” he said coolly.

Enjolras shook his head as well and went back to reading through the journal article. Or pretending to, at the very least, though he couldn’t help but look up at Grantaire several times. 

And needless to say, neither he nor Combeferre were particularly surprised when, a half hour later, just when it looked like Grantaire and  Floréal were getting ready to leave, Enjolras glanced up at him. “Are you leaving?” he asked.

“That was the plan,” Grantaire said, cocking his head slightly as he looked at Enjolras. “Why, what’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing,” Enjolras said, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. “I was just, um, I was hoping to borrow you. To critique my speech. If– if you don’t have anything better to do.”

“I don’t,” Grantaire said instantly, before realizing what he had said and coloring. “I mean…” 

“Go,” Floréal said with a small smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “I think we can handle one night apart.” She kissed him on the cheek before grabbing her coat and heading out. Grantaire watched her leave for only a second before looking back at Enjolras, a small, slightly crooked smile spreading across his face as he did.

“So where do you want me?”

----------

Floréal looked resigned as she sat down next to Grantaire on the bench he had asked to meet her at in the park the following day. It had been where they first met, and she glanced a little ruefully at it before telling Grantaire, “I suppose it’s poetic, in a way. Ending things here, where they began.”

Grantaire winced. “Is it that obvious?”

“The ‘we should talk’ text did a lot of heavy-lifting for you,” Floréal said with a half-smile. “But I’d be lying if I didn’t see this coming before that.” She hesitated for a moment before asking, “I never stood a chance, did I?”

Grantaire sighed and looked away for a long moment before shaking his head and looking back at her. “If it makes you feel better, you came the closest.”

“But not close enough.”

Floréal didn’t sound upset when she said it, but Grantaire still looked pained. “I’m sorry,” he offered.

She shook her head. “Don’t be,” she said with a little laugh. “I think I knew all along.” She considered it for a moment. “Honestly, I think that was part of the appeal.”

Grantaire frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” She trailed off before shaking her head again. “There was always an end date on this, and that meant I didn’t have to worry about commitment. After all, you always belonged to someone else. I could tell, even if I didn’t want to believe it.”

“I resent the implication that I belong to anyone,” Grantaire said lightly.

But Floréal didn’t rise to the bait. “Fine, maybe not you, but your heart at least belongs to someone else.”

Grantaire’s expression tightened. “Well, there is that.”

Floréal laughed again and patted Grantaire’s knee. This was a lot of fun, Grantaire.” She paused. “Well, maybe not this conversation, but the rest of it.”

“I’m sorry.”

She gave him a look. “You said that already.”

Grantaire didn’t smile. “I wouldn’t choose this, you know,” he said, his voice low. “If I had a choice.”

Floréal shrugged. “You can’t choose who to fall in love with.” She gave him a pointed look. “But you can choose what to do about it.”

“What are you saying?” Grantaire asked.

“I’m saying maybe you should try to focus on the five dates with the person you actually want to be with, the five dates that would actually lead to more.”

Grantaire made a face. “It’s the one date that I’m worried about,” he told her honestly.

“And that is no longer my problem.” She stood, and Grantaire hurried to stand as well. “Best of luck, Grantaire – I mean it. I wish you nothing but the best.”

The smile he gave her was genuine, if a little rueful. “Same to you. I wish whomever you find will give you a lot more than five dates.”

“And I hope whomever I find will love me as much as you love Enjolras.”

Grantaire huffed a laugh and ducked his head. “So do I,” he said quietly. He gave her a little wave before he started in the opposite direction, his feet automatically taking him in the direction of the Musain and the inevitable five dates with the next placeholder until he was finally ready to see if he actually stood a chance of his own.

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #floréal #grantaire x floréal #grantaire x the idea of dating someone who is not enjolras #fanfiction #les miserables #ask #answered #hey nonny #fic prompt #modern au #developing relationship #Anonymous

[courfeyracs-swordcane]

Who would win in a fight between the ATLOU amis v. their Brick counterparts?

Oh shit okay let’s go

Enjolras: I feel like brick enj might win?? Just by virtue of being more severe like in general? But also we didn’t like. Have any of the barricade scenes in which he was not mostly dead so I could very well be wrong.

Marius: Ok hear me out. Pre-barricades Brick Marius would win, post-barricade Cee-Sing Marius would win.

Courfeyrac: I think??? Probably ATLOU Courf???? I have swordfought Megan and. Yeah. I believe in her abilities. (Objectively brickcourf probably actually knows how to handle his sword in a non-stage way and is not just screwing around in the woods but I’m disregarding that)

Combeferre: Brick. I love Mike’s Ferre so much but they Have The Braincell and first of all I can’t think of any reason for them to be fighting in the first place but second of all brick Ferre has So Many Guns

Grantaire: oh they would absolutely get in a fight vshsjdjwjjdjs. brick R might win bc I can’t box but also he might be drunk in which case ATLOU R could probably take him

Amelie: (bc she deserves rights) could take most of les amis in a fight I think??? Idk why I feel like Feuilly would be the exception but there you go

#atlou #THANKS ANONYMOUS THIS WAS FUN #also very very hard??????

[midasinc]

modern les amis ocupational/schooling hcs:

this seems random but i just wanna talk about it!

enjolras: he's in grad school and he is very unemployed. it's not actually a bad thing! he went to school initially for political science and that was all fun and games until he realized the job opportunities he had within that weren't really stuff he was into. he didn't want to be a laywer or a sales rep or a reporter; he wanted to MAKE CHANGE! unfortunately that's typically a nonprofit sort of venture, so enjolras is going back to school for community/social change and he's maybe sort of living on combeferre's pull-out couch, but it's okay. he cooks (poorly) and cleans (well enough) and does a lot of volunteer work. he's unemployed, but he's still out and about doing what he can to be a promising member of society

courfeyrac: he withstood the longest in the run for the law school gang. he was seriously so close to graduating but he dropped out and went to school for music instead. courfeyrac had been playing the cello for 9 years by the time he was about to graduate and he knew that if he was gonna go into law, he would hate his life. it wasn't something he enjoyed. he got a masters in music instead and he plays for an orchestra! his director stresses him out sometimes, but he meshes more with music people and he loves what he does. it's a win for everyone (he has one sided beef w the first chair for cellos, though. courfeyrac DESPISES the first chair and wants their position so badly but the first chair sees him and is like "omg how was your weekend :)))" and they're so genuine with their kindness)

combeferre: he goes through med school with joly and then goes back to school to get a doctorate in psychology. he wants to work with counseling and therapy but atm he works in clinical psychology. he makes pretty good schmoney so providing for him and enj isn't that difficult

prouvaire: he went to school for music and he's currently working as an unpaid intern at a music studio, bless his heart. he wants to be a bigger rapper one day and talks to a lot of producers and musicians for inspo on how to grow past getting 8 listens from only his friends on soundcloud. he also sells bracelets on etsy and crochets sweaters on etsy and candles on etsy... there's a lot of etsy. he has really cute packaging, though, and throws in stickers and handwritten notes. he's cool, he has a cool shop. he's the kind of small business you wanna buy from

feuilly: he went to uni for a year before realizing that this was too expensive and he just couldn't do it. he's never been good at school and he makes the decision to go through life without a degree. he works with a construction company and has... arms... strong arms... wow

bahorel: law-school drop out. he tried, okay? bahorel TRIED. it just wasn't for him and he couldn't stand annoyingly pretentious law students and he had to drop out. he got hired by the same company that feuilly works for after feuilly offered to get him an interview with his boss and now they're construction buddies! he loves it. it's a lot of early mornings, sore arms, and back pain, but he loves the physical work. it's what he's used to and it's something he's good at :)

joly: he went through med school with ferre and it was both the best and worst decision of his life. he is so tired. all the time. he specializes in optometry and it bleeds into his everyday life. grantaire gets a free pair of blue-light glasses all the time along with notes begging him to keep his posture alright when he's working at the computer and reminding him to take breaks.

bossuet: he did not make it out of law school. it happens to the best of us (more like the all of them). he withstood more than bahorel, but dropped out before courf. he just. man. none of these guys were built for their parents' dreams. he went to cosmetology school afterwards, just for a practical degree in something, and he works at a hair salon ironically enough. he gets tipped pretty well because cutting hair is the one thing he doesn't seem to have bad luck with and he's really good at holding conversations with his clients. bossuet is vvv likeable, people want to come back and get their hair done just to see him

grantaire: he went to school for animation and works at an animation company at the moment! his job is very tiring and he is very exhausted all the fucking time. he specialized in 2d animation but he's trying to branch out and learn 3d because he'd find a lot more job opportunities. atm he's working on a kid's show and he kind of hates the style but it's not the worst job he's ever done. it's not the worst.

bonus :) :

marius: he left after the first day of pre-law god bless, he never made it to law school. anyway he got a masters in history and he works in a WW1 museum :) he loves his job a lot and he works in the back rooms, cataloging information and writing plaques of information for new exhibits. he loves his job omg i cannot express to you enough how much he loves war history

cosette: ballet cosette! ballet cosette! ballerina cosette! she went to a college for dance and now works at a prestigious dance company. she's really dedicated to her work and she's built as fuck. valjean goes to all of her shows and always brings a bouquet of flowers with him to give her afterwards

eponine: she never went to uni bc it was too expensive and she didn't want to take out a loan and wind up like dear old dad. she works retail at a tech shop and uses her employee discount to buy cameras, mics, lighting, and more because really she wants to be a director. she'd never go to film school or even admit that she wishes she could have gone, but she doesn't need to. she makes projects on her own and her apartment has scripts and storyboards in progress taped to her wall. her friends and siblings also get that employee-discount tech gift for holidays and birthdays

#messing around with prouvaire if u couldnt tell #I JUST WANT TO TRY NEW THINGS #ive also just been thinking about cis!gnc jp and omg.... yeah #les mis #les miserables #les amis #les amis de l'abc #les mis headcanons #modern era #modern au

[cumbercookiebatchs]

When she threw open the apartment door and hollered out in her usual manner, "Papa, the people in my class are fools who spew bourgeois propaganda and I don't know how to—" she didn't expect she would be hastily shushed by a voice she knew for sure didn't belong to her Papa, but to another man who usually didn't appear at their home without their knowledge. Or, well, at least, her knowledge; there was still the matter of that time she had invited the art gallery curator over for dinner without first telling her Papa, which resulted in her very flustered and embarassed Papa opening up the door unpreparedly to a fully suited Grantaire while he himself was clad in his kitten-pajamas, an incident for which her Papa still hasn't forgiven her for. Marianne doesn't really see why; clearly Grantaire was completely enamoured by the whole look, if anything.

But dragging her attention back to the present situation, she watched as her Papa's boyfriend (and wasn't that a bit odd to think about—it wasn't as if she was opposed to him dating, or opposed at all to him dating the gallery curator, considering it was her who pulled the two together—it was just a bit of a jolt to see him hold another's hand or smile when talking of someone romantically—he was her father, so she supposed it had something to do with that, though another part of her suspected it was just the way she still held that little bit of concern from his separation from his dick-of-an-ex all those years ago while she was still a baby—a girl's going to fret a little for her father, right?) ease himself back against the cushions of the couch without waking her slumbering Papa slumped on his chest and perched on his lap (which—once again—was a bit odd to see, considering for many years it was her who had fallen asleep in her Papa's lap, and with a very different kind of love behind the action.) She raised an eyebrow.

"Not that I'm discouraging you from coming over or telling you to stay away or anything, but what are you doing here?" she whispered, mindful of her Papa's sleeping state.

Grantaire glanced down and carded a gentle hand through her Papa's golden curls. "He had a...bit of a day," he replied, equally as quiet.

Marianne frowned. "But he was working from home today." When she realized what must have happened, she swore, and it was a testament to how much she liked Grantaire when he didn't even bat an eye. "I didn't think the work at the firm was getting to be this bad."

Grantaire looked grave. "Bad enough if it warranted the kind of anxiety attack he had when he called me over." He peered down, mouth turning down to a concerned frown for a moment before he pressed a kiss to the top of her Papa's head, something which made her smile, though she dared not do it too largely. She still had the part to play of the daughter disgusted with parental PDA, after all.

One matter, however... "Wait, how did you even get off of work to get here?"

His eyes flashed up to her's. "Renovations, remember? Gallery's closed for three weeks cause of it."

Oh right, the renovations. The memory of having been told of it did come to mind, and even if it didn't, she should have been able to figure it our based on the hoodie and sweatpants the man donned, so opposite the sharp suits he would usually wear for his job. Honestly, how very convenient. Though, she didn't doubt the fact that even if he wasn't off work right now—or at least, off work at the actual gallery, considering she had spent one too many of his infamous rambles listening to him complain of all the work he has to get done at home—he still would have rushed to help her Papa.

Which, at the end of the day, is truly what wins her over once and for all. Smiling, she thinks a little before saying, "You're a good guy, Grantaire."

The upturn of Grantaire's mouth was bright especially in the evening light. He moved to sit up on the edge of the seat, but that was the moment her Papa endeavoured to shift on Grantaire's lap, letting a little sniffle and burrowing deeper into the man's chest, prompting him to freeze and recline back on the couch oncemore instead.

"So," he whispered once he made sure her Papa was settled once more, "I have the approval of the hard-to-win-over-child, then?"

She rolled her eyes. "I never disapproved of you. In fact, I approved of you way before. I'm the one who called you for dinner."

Grantaire smirked. "Maybe. But you kind of have this intense stare to you—kind of like your dad here."

She rolled her eyes once more; her Papa fanboyed over her Uncle Feuilly, there wasn't much fierceness there. "Whatever."

They both fell in a comfortable silence, punctuated at times only by their breaths and what sounded like her Papa's sighs as he would shift and cling closer to Grantaire every so often, a soft look gracing Grantaire's features as he did so. Now, she thought, was fit to proceed into her own room and leave Grantaire and her Papa be, but before she could do so, Grantaire cleared his throat, calling for her attention. With the utmost tried casualty, he said, "I was thinking of taking your father to the Pont des Arts and maybe getting a bit of coffee and..." he trailed off.

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking me for permission?"

He looked a bit sheepish. "No. Yes. I don't know, I've never done this before."

"Did you miss the fact that I was the one who asked you over to dinner? I have no problems."

The relief on Grantaire's face was evident.

"That is," she continued. "If he says yes. His word is more important here."

Grantaire nodded hastily. "Yeah, right, of course."

She smirked. "Just have him back by ten." The words caused a rush of adrenaline through her. Damn, she never thought she would ever get to say that about her father.

Chuckling, Grantaire gave her as best a salute he could with his arms wrapped around her Papa and repiled "Yes, ma'am."

Turning, she moved to head to her room at last before one more thought struck her and she turned once more with a devious smile. "By the way, do you think I should clear out for the night?"

Grantaire blinked. "What?"

"I mean I could head over to Uncle Combeferre and Uncle Courf's place, they always let me sleep over if I want."

"I don't know what you're asking," Grantaire said, but the faint blush on his stubbled cheeks knew that that wasn't truly the case.

Her smile grew even more wicked. "Yes you do, I'm asking whether or not you're going to have sex tomorrow."

At this, Grantaire thoroughly coloured red, and he sputtered so badly he didn't notice the man on his lap shifting until he opened his eyes.

"Is that anyway to talk about your Papa?" her Papa asked drowsily as he yawned and craned his head to look at her.

"Oh please," she said, "I'm quite disgusted, but I've gotta know, don't I? I don't wanna be here for it."

"Well in that case," her Papa yawned once more and turned his head to burrow back into Grantaire's chest, "head over to Bahorel's place, Ferre and Courf are at an exhibit at the museum."

Grantaire looked down at her Papa in alarm. "Enjolras."

He peered up at him sleepily. "What?" He stretched up a bit to give him a quick peck on the lips, to which Marianne let out a slight noise of disgust. "Did I say something wrong?"

The red in Grantaire's face simply would not fade away. "Well, I, uh..."

Her Papa hummed. "I didn't think so either." The kiss he delivered now was no quick peck--slow and deep, her Papa winding his arms around Grantaire's neck as his boyfriend pulled him closer—and certainly not anything she needed to see either.

"Papa, no, shit you can't wait for me to leave. What, do you want me to leave for tonight as well?"

Her Papa only broke off to say, "Watch your language." He delivered one kiss more before saying, "No, Grantaire was just about to leave anyways, and I have to help you with your discussion skills to help your class understand that they're spreading bourgeois propaganda and how to prevent that, isn't that right, Grantaire?"

Now, Marianna personally would have been offended if someone were trying to kick her out like that, but perhaps in this moment, it was more of a bail-out for Grantaire rather than a boot-out considering how flustered he seemed at the moment with the two.

"Right, I'll, uh, I'll just." He walked over to the door, her Papa following close behind. "I'll just—"

Her Papa stretched up on his toes to give him a soft kiss on the cheek. "Bye, Grantaire."

Grantaire looked down at him, a grin spreading across his face as he, unaware, reached a hand to his cheeks where her Papa's lips had brushed only a moment ago. "Yeah, bye."

Marianne groaned. "Gosh, save it for tomorrow!"

THEY'RE SO CUTE!!!!

#screams into the void #THANK YOU I LOVED THIS #❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ #PERFECT #MORE PLEASE #Amazing #Enjoltaire #Lovely anon #Enjoltaire fic #I loooooooove