#texts from enjolras' phone

[hexagonspress]

BE by tothewillofthepeople

Grantaire is earnest in this, and it’s heartbreaking. Enjolras can’t look away. This is just a rehearsal. Grantaire is still wearing skinny jeans. They have lights and phones and textual analysis and thousands of years of history between now and then and yet– When Grantaire speaks, the distance collapses. (Grantaire as Hamlet.)

Title: Middle Ages Deco Headers/Accents: Letter Gothic Standard Body text: Adobe Caslon Pro Case title: Goudy Initialen

38,667 words | 224 pages

Binderary book 1: a long-favourite EXR fic. I love wild Les Mis AUs and I love Shakespeare and this is all of that in such a lovely lovely form. Stage manager Enjolras is inspired. Also, I've been frothing at the mouth to use my special blackletter fonts and go suuuper overboard designing and this was Perfect for that purpose.

More pictures/design/process under the cut.

Design and Construction Case: Flat-back case binding with bradel board covers and spine. The spine cloth is Hollander's pearl linen in charcoal grey. The painted titles were done in Amsterdam acrylic ink in silver, with a pair of scissors because I don't own a painting brush and likely never will. The cover papers are printed on 80gsm white printer paper and glued with a regular Elmer's glue stick and PVA on the turn-ins, and the whole case is sprayed with workable fixatif to (hopefully) preserve it longer-term.

Covers: The front and back covers were designed in Photoshop. The centre image is a William Morris pattern, and the top and bottom little circles are Renaissance printer's ornaments (pngs by the lovely @helle-bored of Renegade Bindery) that I vectorized in Illustrator (Illustrator and I were sworn enemies until this month. Now we're forced friends. Like enemies to lovers).

Insides: Endpapers are a William Morris pattern recoloured in Photoshop to be a richer green and red, obv, for EXR. Printed with inkjet on 80gsm printer paper and glued to gold cardstock, and sewn into the textblock. Endbands are pre-sewn from Hollanders, dyed gold with acrylic ink to match the endpapers.

Typesetting Typeset was done in InDesign. This is a one-shot with scene breaks, so to match the theatre theme of the piece I replaced the horizontal line breaks with flagged scene numbers. I tried to strike a balance in the typesetting between classic Shakespearean aesthetic with the blackletter drop caps and cover fonts versus what you might see in a theatre script book with the monospace accents. The title spread uses a transparent decorative frame, again from Helle's collection; the large box in the middle with the title was part of the original frame and then I duplicated and resized it for the author name and my imprint.

We All Do It, or, the Mistakes Section I somehow managed to print the cover papers nine inches tall and didn't see a problem with it until they came off the printer. Truly who knows how that happened. I was working on the case at two in the morning and cut the spine cloth the wrong length three separate times...earned the measure once cut twice badge big time for that one. The endpapers were an ordeal and a half for real. What I learned: print them too big and glue the cardstock to the back, then trim the paper to size, not the other way around otherwise you'll end up with big ugly gaps where the trimming was a few millimeters off. Whoops.

And...more pictures

I'm particularly pleased with how the covers here came out so here's closeups. Also, the arc on the spine that you can see in the endband on the last one is really pleasing to me lol I fought a war trying to get the flatback hinge calculations right.

[kjack89]

Two Sides to Every Story

Just a little modern AU E/R fluff for a Sunday night.

The Musain August 18, 2023 10:15am

“God, I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungover,” Bossuet groaned as he pulled open the door to the Musain, automatically taking a step back to let Joly in first.

Joly just laughed. “You say that every weekend,” he pointed out. “Which means there’s probably a lesson in there about hanging out with Grantaire and its long-term effect on our livers.”

Bossuet just grunted an acknowledgement. “Right, so, you get the drinks, and I’ll find Grantaire?” he suggested.

“Perfect.”

It wasn’t like Grantaire was hard to spot by any stretch of the imagination, but there was a greater than passing chance that he hadn’t made it in yet, or had fallen asleep in the back room, or was emptying his stomach in the bathroom. 

But worse, to Bossuet’s immediate irritation, Grantaire was awake, seemingly hangover-free, and on the phone. He gave Bossuet a wave when he saw him, but didn’t hang up. “Yeah, no, I totally get it,” he said, his tone making it entirely obvious who he was talking to, which only made Bossuet’s irritation grow. “Takeout’s fine, you know me, I’m flexible.” He winked at Bossuet, who rolled his eyes. “In more ways than one.”

“No, no, don’t mind me, I’ll just sit here listening to you badly propositioning your boyfriend,” Bossuet grumbled, though despite his irritation and raging hangover, he didn’t quite sound as sour as he had intended. Probably because he had been wanting this for Grantaire for, like, ever, and at the end of the day, he was a bit of a softie. “Tell Enjolras I say hi.”

“Bossuet says hi,” Grantaire said dutifully, his smile widening at whatever Enjolras said in response. Then he straightened, his smile fading, just slightly. “Oh, sure. Love you.”

He paused, and Bossuet glanced at him, wondering what Enjolras was saying in response to that. After all, it’s not like the man was renowned for his sentimental side—

“Nuh-uh,” Grantaire said, his grin back in full force. “I love you more.”

Turns out when Bossuet was wrong, he was really wrong.

“No, I love you more.”

Bossuet rolled his eyes again, glancing around to see if Joly was on his way with the drinks to rescue him from having to listen to this.

“No, you hang up first.” Grantaire laughed at whatever Enjolras said. “I love you, talk to you tonight.”

He hung up and grinned that same stupid, dopey grin at Bossuet, who just gave him a withering look. “You two are revolting. You know that, right?”

“And here I thought you believed in true love,” Grantaire said innocently, snickering and dodging Bossuet’s half-hearted attempt to sock him in the arm. 

His phone buzzed on the table and he reached for it, but Bossuet beat him to it, picking it up and glancing down at the screen to read the text. “From Enjolras,” he read out loud. “I love you the most.”

He mimed throwing up while Grantaire wrestled his phone back from him, laughing. Joly arched an eyebrow as he carried their drinks over to the table. “Do I even want to know?”

“No,” Bossuet and Grantaire said at the same time.

City Hall 10:15am

“Anyway, this is our third meeting with the Civilian Office of Police Accountability, and needless to say, we’re getting nowhere,” Enjolras said with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he glanced down the hallway. “And I know tonight’s supposed to be date night, but I was hoping I could talk you into takeout at my place instead.”

“Yeah, no, I totally get it,” Grantaire said immediately, and Enjolras let out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding. Of course, he’d really had no reason to be worried – this thing with Grantaire was easy in a way that Enjolras had never allowed himself to believe a relationship could be. As easy and as perfect as Enjolras had hoped it would be when he finally let himself admit what seemingly everyone else had already put together on their own. “Takeout’s fine, you know me, I’m flexible.” Enjolras preemptively rolled his eyes, already knowing what was coming by the smirk he heard in Grantaire’s voice. “In more ways than one.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Enjolras said dryly.

Grantaire’s grin sounded particularly self-satisfied when he said, “Bossuet says hi.”

“And Combeferre’s on his way here, so once he arrives, we’ll have ourselves a quorum.” The secretary poked her head out into the hallway and gestured at him, and Enjolras sighed. “Shit, I gotta go. Honestly, I’m tempted to just offer to withdraw the complaint against the department as a whole if it mean they’d actually do fuck all about the officers involved. Anyway, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Oh, sure,” Grantaire said, much more seriously than before. “I love you.”

Enjolras glanced over as the elevator doors dinged and Combeferre got off. “Uh-huh, you as well,” he said, a little distractedly, because Combeferre looked particularly grim, and Enjolras had a feeling he wasn’t going to like where this conversation was headed.

“Nuh-uh, I love you more.”

“Right,” Enjolras said blankly, tempted to ask if Grantaire was having a stroke. “Anyway—”

“No, I love you more.”

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed at Grantaire’s slightly gleeful tone. He might not have the slightest idea what Grantaire was doing, but judging by his tone, Grantaire sure did. “We’ll continue this conversation later—” he started warningly.

“No, you hang up first.”

“—no matter how fascinating this display of justification for homicide may be.”

Grantaire had the nerve to laugh. “I love you. Talk to you tonight.”

Enjolras hung up and forced a grimace masquerading as a smile at Combeferre. “You look like you have good news,” he said.

Combeferre just shook his head. “Dare I ask what that was?” he said mildly.

“Absolutely not,” Enjolras said firmly, typing a quick text to Grantaire: I love you the most. “So what’s going on that makes you look like someone’s died?”

“The mayor picked a new police superintendent,” Combeferre said, and Enjolras paused in the middle of composing his follow-up text.

“Well, that’s…” He trailed off, realization hitting. “Meaning COPA’s going to want to delay this until the superintendent gets approved by the Council and sworn in.”

Combeferre nodded. “Most likely.”

Something I want you to remember when I kill you with my bare hands tonight.

Enjolras clicked send on the second text before looking back at Combeferre. “Then in that case, fuck ‘em.”

Combeferre blinked. “Fuck ‘em?” he repeated, more intrigued than concerned. “Dare I ask what precisely you mean by that?”

“I mean fuck ‘em,” Enjolras said. “They’ve been trying to keep this quiet but if all they want to do is obfuscate and delay, let them. They’re not allowed to speak to the press about ongoing investigations, but we sure as fuck can.”

Combeferre nodded slowly. “You want to threaten to go to the press if they won’t move the investigation along.”

Enjolras’s phone dinged and he glanced down at it automatically. You said you were tempted to withdraw the complaint, the text from Grantaire said. Bet you’re not nearly so tempted now.

Enjolras felt a sharp smile stretch across his face. “Well played,” he murmured, so that Combeferre couldn’t quite hear him. “And no, I don’t want to threaten. I want us to do it. We’ll hold a press conference this afternoon, share everything we have. Should make for a nice little mess for the newly minted superintendent to deal with when he starts.”

The hint of a smile played at the corners of Combeferre’s mouth. “Burn it all to the ground,” he said.

Enjolras just shrugged. “Well, since Courfeyrac couldn’t make this meeting, someone’s gotta do it.”

Combeferre’s smile widened, and he gestured for Enjolras to lead the way. “By all means, don’t let me stop you.”

Enjolras grinned as he glanced down at his phone and another text from Grantaire: You still going to kill me?

Jury’s still out, Enjolras sent back, hesitating before adding, But we’ve landed on a strategy of fuck ‘em and burn it all to the ground, so the odds look in your favor.

You’re welcome, Grantaire sent back, and Enjolras rolled his eyes.

If that’s your way of fishing for gratitude, good luck with that. He paused before adding, I love you.

A moment later, just as the secretary was letting them into the office for their meeting, Grantaire responded: Uh-huh, you as well ;)

Enjolras just rolled his eyes as he slipped his phone into his pocket, though he couldn’t help but smile.

[expired-applejuice]

Part 5 of incorrect quotes

Bahorel: Guys, there's a monster under my bed and it's really ugly.

Grantaire, on the bottom bunk: Honestly, fuck you.

-

Cosette: i made a Marshmallow Inspector Javert.

Cosette: see? his arms are crossed because he's mad at Marshmallow Valjean for escaping him.

Cosette: you like it?

Javert:

Javert: *choked up* it's fine.

-

Courfeyrac: Once again, Courfeyrac and Combeferre save the day.

Enjolras: You didn't do anything It was all Combeferre.

Courfeyrac: We're a package deal. Everybody knows that.

-

Grantaire: Hello, fellow idiots

Enjolras: Hello, Grantaire

Grantaire: No, no, not you, you're not an idiot

Enjolras: You underestimate me

-

*Combeferre is cooking*

Grantaire: Any chance that's for me?

Combeferre: It's for Courfeyrac. I'm planning on making some bad choices tonight, and I need him on my side.

Enjolras: I never realized the forethought that went into being a disappointment

-

Enjolras: Feuilly isn't answering his phone

Bahorel: I'll call

Combeferre: Enjolras and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-

Feuilly: Hello?

-

Javert: God, give me patience.

Valjean: I think you mean "give me strength".

Javert: No, You better hope God doesn't give me strength because if he did, you'd be dead.

-

Joly: Hey, Bossuet? What does IDK, ILY, and TTYL mean?

Bossuet: i don't know, I love you, talk to you later.

Joly: Oh, okay, I'll just ask Musichetta. I love you too.

Bossuet:

-

Jehan: You have to apologize.

Montparnasse: Fine, but this might make me a better and more likable person and that is not the man you fell in love with!

-

Someone may have done this

*playing truth or dare*

Eponine: Okay, truth or dare?

Grantaire: Dare.

Eponine: Kiss the next person who arrives.

Grantaire: Gross, I'm not kissing any of you. None of you are my type.

*Enjolras walks in*

Grantaire:

Grantaire, using breath stray and putting on chapstick: Well, a dare's a dare.

-

Courfeyrac: You know my motto: carpe diem, carpe noctem, carpe coles.

Marius: Seize the day, seize the night, what's the last one?

Courfeyrac: Seize the dick.

-

Grantaire: mean, sure, I have my bad days. But then I remember what a cute smile Apollo has.

-

Combeferre: *seductively takes off glasses*

Combeferre: Wow...

Courfeyrac, blushing: Haha... what?

Combeferre: You're really fucking blurry.

-

Bossuet: Hey, babe.

Joly: Hmm?

Bossuet: I need your help with a math problem.

Joly: Oh, sure! What do you need?

Bossuet: How do you simplify 2i<6u?

Joly: i<3u

Bossuet: Awww, i<3u too!

Joly:

-

Enjolras, texting Bossuet: Send dudes

Bossuet: You mean-

Bossuet: You mean send nudes??!

Enjolras: No, we crashed the funeral and I'm bleeding. Send Grantaire

Grantaire: *already ran out the door*

-

Combeferre: I know every song to ever exist, doesn't matter when it was made.

Enjolras: Oh, yeah?

Grantaire: Finish this; I don't cook, I don't clean-

Combeferre: but let me tell you how got this ring,

Combeferre, Grantaire, and Courfeyrac, who came out of no were: GOBBLE ME, SWALLOW ME, DRIP DOWN THE SIDE OF ME-

-

*undercover*

Eponine: You don't think can fight because I'm a girl.

Marius: 'Ponie I don't think you can fight because you're in a wedding dress. To be fair, don't think Bahorel could fight in that either.

Bahorel: No, but I'd make a bomb ass wife.

-

Valjean: You're pouting.

Javert: I'm not pouting, I'm brooding.

Valjean: That's how pretty men pout.

-

Valjean, picking up his phone: Javert? I'm kind of busy right now-

Javert: Do you think drinking thirty-six cans of Redbull consecutively would heighten my senses or would I just die?

Valjean:

Valjean: I'm on my way.

-

Eponine: Bitches be like "I'm baby" but have childhood trauma and were neglected.

Eponine: Like what do you know about being baby? You were forced to grow up from an early age.

Eponine:

Everyone else:

Eponine: It's me. I'm bitches.

Gavroche, sighing: We know.

-

Feuilly: Y'all ever get so tired you see spiders?

Grantaire: Me when I take seventeen Benadryl and start seeing the Hat Man.

Jehan: THE WHAT?

Grantaire: Oh, so this is suddenly not a safe space?

-

Courfeyrac: Relationships should be 50/50; Combeferre cooks dinner while I sit on the counter looking pretty.

-

Bahorel: Not everyone likes you, Montparnasse. You aren't Feuilly.

Montparnasse: Not everyone likes Feuilly??

Enjolras, coming out of no where: Who?

Montparnasse:

Bahorel, cracking his knuckles: we need names, Montparnasse.

-

Musichetta: Can you two cut me some slack? I'm sort of in love.

Joly: I'm sorry, but that's really not our problem.

Musichetta: I'm in love with you both.

Bossuet, blushing: Oh... that brings us into the loop a little.

-

Combeferre: I fell-

Courfeyrac: From heaven?

Combeferre: No, I literally fell-

Courfeyrac: In love with me the moment you saw me

Combeferre: MY ARM IS BROKEN, COURFEYRAC

Courfeyrac: Ok, but am I pretty? Be honest.

-

*Combeferre and Grantaire in a casino*

Combeferre: Grantaire, we're about to get kicked out-

Grantaire: Shush!

Combeferre: We gotta-

Grantaire: Shut up!

Combeferre: R-

Grantaire: Shh! Shush, shush, shush! Do you hear that?

Combeferre: Wha- are you drunk?

Grantaire: Yes, but listen!

Combeferre:

Grantaire:

Grantaire: It's the sound of me not giving a fuck.

-

Javert: We all have our demons.

Javert, pointing at Les Amis: These ones are mine.

-

Valjean, helping Marius stand after being wounded: You need to be careful, you're loosing a lot of blood-

Marius, loopy: I'm not "loosing" it, I know exactly where it is!

*Marius points to the puddle of his blood on the floor.*

Valjean: Oh, dear Lord, I should just leave you.

-

Enjolras, making his third cup of coffee: Why are my hands so shaky?

Combeferre, on his fifth: Your skeleton is ready to hatch.

-

Montparnasse, to Feuilly: What's the first thing you notice when someone approaches you?

Bahorel, holding Feuilly's hand: The audacity.

-

Combeferre: Did you know-

Bahorel: That somethings are better left unsaid?

Combeferre: Nice try.

-

Eponine: Do you have any idea how dangerous I'd be if I had zero self doubt?

-

Jehan: If I were a drink, I'd be cherry vanilla coke. If you were a drink, what would you be?

Grantaire: Bleach.

Bahorel: Blood

Montparnasse: arsenic

Feuilly: Alright, calm down edgelords.

-

Grantaire: Dad didn't raise a quitter!

Joly: I thought your dad left?

Grantaire: Which is why I'm quitting.

-

Grantaire to Combeferre: Do you think I'm ugly?

Combeferre: It's not about looks, R. What's valuable is on the inside.

Grantaire, touched: Aww...

Combeferre: For example, someone's heart.

Grantaire: You're a good friend, Combeferre -

Combeferre: It can be priced at over one million US dollars, you know.

Grantaire:

-

Grantaire: Ok, here's my wishlist.

Musichetta: This is surprisingly reasonable.

Joly: We could probably get all this by Christmas.

Enjolras: Oh, so no one's gonna ask why I'm on the list?

Grantaire: That's more of a hope.

Enjolras: I still don't get why I'm on the list?

Bossuet, to Grantaire: Are you sure you don't want someone else?

Grantaire: Nope, I want him.

Enjolras: CAN SOMEONE PLEASE EXPLAIN WHY I'M OM THE LIST?!

-

*playing Would You Rather?*

Eponine: Ok, R. Would you rather die or-

Grantaire: Die.

Cosette: She hasn't even-

Grantaire: Die.

Marius: Grantaire, we talked about this...

-

Enjolras: I was born for politics.

Enjolras: have great hair and I'm great at lying.

-

Bahorel: I've thought about taking swim classes for adults, but honestly that's sadder than just drowning.

-

Combeferre, to Grantaire: I need 45 minutes away from you, and then we can be best friends again.

-

Montparnasse: *raises eyebrows *

Jehan: Put those back down

[betterto-die-thanto-crawl]

"Didn't you see my text?" (Joly for enj)

"No...?" Enjolras gave his friend a questioning look before checking his phone and giving a groan. There it was... from hours ago. "Sorry, Joly... I must have zoned out and missed it between putting things together for the next meeting and doing homework..." He let his shoulders slump. "I'm really, really sorry."

[saintmouthed]

for Rare!!! @eldritchw1tch The One Time Enjolras Accidentally Signs His Text Wrong and Grantaire Doesn't Notice (or, the beginning of Chapter Four, Enjolras style)

Enjolras should be editing the results of his latest shoot. An indie leatherworker had asked him to do some product photography with a well-known alt model, and he'd loved their designs, and she and her peachy ass had been an absolute pleasure to work with, but hell, if that dark red leather wasn't distracting. Especially with R's texts buzzing quietly in his pocket.

Which is to say, he should be editing the results of his latest shoot, but instead he's spinning slowly around in his office chair and grinning like a complete idiot as he texts R about his favorite of Threshold's party themes.

The last one I went to was called "Carnival of the Bizarre." They let me do suspensions all night. Our version of aerial silks. Ange.

He briefly imagines the way R's eyes would go wide at that, the way they did when Enjolras caught his gaze at rope bite night. Absolutely unfair how delicious that image is.

Enjolras wants to mark him up so bad, eat him alive, swallow him whole.

Carnival? R.

Something like that, yeah. Ange.

All I can picture is you dressed as a sexy clown. R.

Some people are into that, I suppose. People are afraid of clowns, people play with fear. I don't really do the whole costume thing though. Ange.

He chews his lip and stops spinning. Is that a bad thing? Would R have wanted him to be the type to do "the whole costume thing"? Would Enjolras be able to become the type to do "the whole costume thing" if it meant he got to keep R?

Fuck.

He could dress up for School Daze, if he wanted to. If R wanted him to. No one would bat an eye, Lark and the other DMs had already asked him to play the part with the band-aids.

God, no, Jehan would never let him live it down. Jehan would know, immediately, on the spot, that if Enjolras dressed up, it was only because he wanted to impress R so badly, and then—

No assless chaps and studded harnesses for you, then? R.

That’s really more Jehan’s style. E.

It takes a second for his mistake to catch up to him.

Fuck.

Well. It's not like...it's not like they'd set a boundary about it, they just hadn't talked about it, but Enjolras had always intended to just use his screen name until R broached the subject. He hadn't meant to let it slip. But what if...possibly worse...what if R didn't want to know Enjolras's name? What if he is just supposed to be Ange, playing a part in a fantasy?

Fuck. Shit. Motherfucker.

He closes his eyes. He can't go down this path, not yet. They barely know each other. They're not dating, and he knows it. He should let things move naturally. And yet...Enjolras wants to eat him alive.

Enjolras wants to take care of him, too.

Fuck.

He throws his phone across the room so he can get some work done, ignoring the way his heart thumps uncomfortably against his ribcage.

And yet. He can't look at that woman in the dark red collar without picturing R in something like it, too.

He's so fucked.

He hears his phone buzz even from where it landed on the sofa across the room. He looks up at the ceiling for a moment, bracing himself for...he's not sure, exactly. Something. Something bad.

R just says That tracks. R.

Suddenly Enjolras can breathe again.

[probably-enjolras]

for the ask thing - 48 for enjolras and grantaire? <3

anon i'm so happy you actually asked for a prompt because i really wanted to write something and i thought no one would ask! so thank you :)

--

48 - I called you at 2am because I need you

--

Grantaire actually enjoys his sleep. Most nights it evades him to the point of staying up for days, which Joly keeps insisting needs to be checked out, so the nights he falls asleep in under an hour, he cherishes it. Another thing that Joly keeps telling Grantaire to do is leave his phone on “do-not-disturb” to prevent it from waking him up, but he couldn’t do that. His brain provides him with vivid scenarios that one of his friends would need his help while he’s asleep and he can’t come to help. With friends like his, there’s always the possibility of someone ending up in jail or, if you’re Bossuet, injured in an incredibly stupid way. 

On this night, Grantaire was tired. He hadn’t slept longer than an hour in three days and his body felt like he was shutting down. But he still couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t place it, but something felt wrong. Unlike most days where he was chronically bored while awake, this night it was so peaceful that he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Grantaire picked his phone up and scrolled through his social media, deciding not to sleep despite how much he wanted to. The clock read 1:59am and, suddenly, his phone started ringing.

The sudden buzzing split the silence of the room. Grantaire stared at his phone for a second, surprised at who was calling him. Enjolras. Enjolras rarely called anyone, he preferred texting or emailing, so Grantaire immediately became worried. Taking a deep breath, Grantaire hit accept.

“Hello? Are you ok?”

Grantaire heard a shuddering breath from the other side of the line and his worries skyrocketed. 

“I didn’t know who to call and you’re always awake. I was taking a walk to clear my head and I think I broke my ankle on a curb.” Enjolras was breathing in sharply and Grantaire could hear his pain. 

“Where are you? I’ll come get you and we’ll go to the hospital.”

“I’m a block north of the Musain, on the corner.”

“I’ll be there in 10 minutes, try to elevate your ankle and don’t try to stand until I’m there,” Grantaire said as he pulled himself out of bed and grabbed a hoodie and some pants.

“Thank you,” Enjolras said meekly. “I’m sorry for it being so late.”

Grantaire smiled to himself for a second. “Trust me, it’s no problem.”

Grantaire ended the call and slipped his shoes on. He grabbed his keys and wallet and took off. His apartment was close enough to the Musain that he normally walked, but he still had a car for emergencies. Considering the closest hospital was a 30 minute walk, he decided this was an emergency, as holding Enjolras up as they hobbled to the hospital was definitely out of the question. 

Grantaire drove past the Musain and watched the sidewalks for Enjolras. Finally, he spotted a mass of blonde hair hunched over on the curb. He pulled up next to the curb and got out. 

Enjolras was holding his ankle so Grantaire couldn’t see the extent of the injury. He crouched down on the curb next to Enjolras and reached out. “Let go of your ankle, I need to see how bad it is.”

Enjolras nodded and let go, wincing in pain at the lack of pressure. His ankle was already bruising a nice purple and it was bent at an angle that made Grantaire have sympathy pains. He had hoped that it would just be a sprain that felt like a break, but there was no way that his ankle could bend at the angle it was at without a break. 

Grantaire frowned and decided it would be better for both of them if he didn’t attempt to stabilize the ankle on his own. “That’s definitely a break, we absolutely have to go to the hospital for this.” Grantaire stood up and bent over to wrap an arm around Enjolras’ waist. He blushed while he did it, trying to ignore the flutter in his chest from the intimacy. Enjolras put his weight against Grantaire and used his arms and non-broken foot to pull himself up. He wobbled slightly and Grantaire prepared himself to catch him if he fell, but Enjolras stabilized and leaned into Grantaire’s chest. It was a bit awkward with how tall Enjolras is, but they made it work. 

Grantaire opened the passenger side door and guided Enjolras in. Enjolras sighed when he sat down and stretched his legs out. He gave Grantaire a small smile as he got into the driver’s side. “This probably isn’t how you thought your night would go, huh?”

Grantaire chuckled. “Yeah not really. If you wanted to hang out with me, you didn’t have to break something. Just a text would have worked.”

Enjolras flushed red. “Yes, well, go big or go home I guess.” He paused. “Would you really spend time with me?”

Grantaire’s brain short circuited. Enjolras really wanted to hang out with him? 

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

Enjolras looked down. “Well, I haven’t really initiated anything, so I thought you might think I don’t like you.”

Grantaire glanced over at him before bringing his eyes back to the road. “Well I do. And you don’t need to call me at 2am in pain to get me to. Do you want to grab a morning coffee once you’re out of the hospital?”

Enjolras smiled at him. “Yes. I would like that a lot.”

[pumpkinspice-prouvaire]

[deep breath] i am a lesbian éponine + gay enjolras unlikely best friendship truther- as we know, ep and r are best friends, bffs, ride or dies, besties for the resties, thru sickness and health- but what about the mean lesbian that hangs around enjolras’ scraggly scrunkly gruffly bf ???

miss lighter tricks cigarette breath surprising left hook doc martens nose ring bartender who flirts with men for tips even tho she can’t stand them pairs up with mister green smoothie law textbook glasses hair down to his collarbones type a personality who reads political text to unwind has never actually taken a real deep breath in his life have come together and has become the best and worst of grantaire’s existence??? personally i love it

do u have any headcanons if so would u mind SHARING?

hello!!!!! I luv them!!! welcome to the club we have niche friendship aus

let's see

it definitely took them a while to warm up to each other at first. Eponine doesn't like to get close to people, and Enjolras won't try to be friends if he feels he's getting nothing in return. Because of this, they're both so prickly and private that it takes them a long long time to start treating each other as acquaintances instead of strangers, and even longer before they actually called each other friends. There was no real catalyst, just the longer they spent together they realised the other really isn’t that bad, actually

Enjolras Eponine shitty parents solidarity. They don't talk about it a lot, because they're not the kind of people to talk about things lol. But if something very parent-orientated is happening, they fade into the background together and have their own private conversation, at least to provide each other with a distraction.

Once they get to know each other well enough, they both make it their mission to embarrass Grantaire as much as possible. Éponine has so many embarrassing photos of Grantaire in his awkward teenage emo phase, and Enjolras will often burst into the apartment like ÉPONINE TOLD ME YOU USED TO BE IN A PUNK BAND AND SHE SAID THERE'S A VIDEO OF YOU PERFORMING ON YOUTUBE CAN WE PLEASE WATCH IT. Grantaire’s life is ruined. 

Becoming friends with Eponine really improved Enjolras’ feminism. He knows that he’s a male-orientated person, and he felt that he definitely had a blank spot there that needed work. Eponine’s initial response was “it’s not my job to teach you how to drink your respect women juice, rich boy”, but she thought about it, came back the next day, threw a bunch of feminist theory books at him and said “start with bell hooks and Audre Lorde and I’ll see you on Friday”. Enjolras was like fuck. Am I getting graded on this. Is she going to kill me. It was a bit awkward at first, but now they’ll meet up and drink coffee and discuss a book or an article or current events, and sometimes if there’s a lecture Eponine is interested in she’ll ask Enjolras if he wants to go

They're one of those friendships where when they're hanging out it's basically just the two of them existing together. Grantaire will get home from work and the two of them will be sitting at opposite ends of the kitchen table in silence, Enjolras will be on his laptop and Eponine on her phone. And then when Grantaire asks what they've been up to they both look at him like he's stupid like "hanging out? obviously?"

[prof-lemon]

⚡BZTBZZZT! DATA BOY! I LOVE THE TASTE OF YOUR TEXT! CANDY FLAVOURED! BZZT-BU-BUZZ!⚡

- [MESSAGE SENT FROM ROTOM PHONE REGISTRATED TO USER - Rosie!!!!!!!!!!! - OPERATED BY ROTOM - ENJOLRAS -]

THANK YOU I LOVE USING COLORS I WISH THERE WERE MORE COLORS

((Plain Text: THANK YOU I LOVE USING COLORS I WISH THERE WERE MORE COLORS))

[lenathesingingcat]

For day 11 of @themiserablesmonth and the prompt “Wish”, here’s me projecting my own Tragic Backstory™️ and feeling better by doing so!

TW: discussion of an OC who killed themselves (off-page, nothing bad actually happens within the fic but it is talked about) and the effects that has on friends.

Wish You Could Be Here

Enjolras was often awake after midnight working on Les Amis’ activism, but what was unusual was for anyone he knew to be up at the same time, at least to his knowledge. That’s why the text confused him, but he read it through.

I miss you. I know you’ll never read this, but I wish I could talk to you, I wish I could see you again. I thought I’d got better, I’d stopped blaming myself for not messaging you enough, but then… I don’t know. I went to some karaoke place, and someone sung a song from a show you were in when we were little. When she sung the part about her child, about their bright, hopeful future, I just cried. Who knows what your future could have been… I just wish I could see you again, even just once.

Enjolras quickly texted back, This is my new number. I’m very sorry for your loss.

A new message arrived. I’m sorry. I never meant to disturb anyone, especially at this time of night, or, well, morning. Didn’t know this was anyone’s number, at least anymore.

It’s alright, I’m up late too, working. But it sounds like you need to talk to someone.

Maybe I do, but none of my friends even know about this. I’m not about to drag them into this now, when they all have bigger things to worry about.

Enjolras considered this, before replying, Well, how about me? I already know, and I could listen, or help you find someone more qualified than me. Your friends may have “bigger things to worry about”, but my priority is helping whoever needs it.

It was a few minutes before the person replied, and Enjolras started to worry, but then a reply came through. It isn’t really something I can express via text.

Then I’ll meet you. Do you know the Musain?

If you’re sure I won’t be bothering you was the reply, and this made Enjolras all the more sure.

I’m sure. Tomorrow, after lunch?

Don’t you mean today? was the reply, followed by, I’ll be there.

The next day, or the same day depending on how you look at it, Enjolras waited. To his surprise, Grantaire walked in. He probably shouldn’t have been too surprised, since all of Les Amis came here quite a lot, but he called him over.

Grantaire looked surprised too, but he sat down anyway. “Enjolras? What are you doing here?”

“I’m waiting for someone. I thought maybe if you don’t have anywhere to be, I could talk to you.”

“Actually, I am meeting someone here. Some random stranger who thinks they can solve all my problems. And before you try to tell me just how sketchy that sounds, I know, I’m still not sure if I’m about to get murdered. But then, that would solve my problems, wouldn’t it?” Grantaire tried to play it off as a joke, but Enjolras could see the sadness in his eyes.

And then it clicked.

“I can’t believe this! You were the one who texted me?”

“Impossible.” Grantaire seemed sure. “I have your number. I would have known I was talking to you.”

“I had to get a new number! Some people who are against our cause found out my number. I put all this on the groupchat for Les Amis, asking everyone to text my new number so I could add them to my phone, but…”

“That explains it. I’m not part of the group.”

Enjolras looked at him in surprise. “Why not? I sent you an invite to join…”

“Didn’t think it would make much difference. After all, I never contribute anything…”

“That’s not true, Grantaire. You point out how we could fail, and we use that to make our plans better. And… well, you make us happy. You make me happy. I know I’ve never expressed that before, but - ”

“And it seems pretty convenient that you suddenly express it when you find out that I need help! You think it’s your job to save everyone! But you can’t. I learned the hard way that some people can’t be saved from their own minds…”

“But most people can, and so we have to try. And you must understand. Look how much you’ve been hurt by what happened. Don’t do that to Les Amis.”

Grantaire looked at the floor for a moment. “I never thought of it that way…” he admitted. “Alright, I give in, if only for Les Amis, since you’re convinced I mean so much to them.” He laughed, then turned serious again. “Will you help me find help?”

“Of course.” Enjolras resisted the urge to pull Grantaire into a hug, to tell him the real reason why he needed Grantaire to stay. This wasn’t the time. If it went wrong between them now, that could make things much worse. So he would wait. And then he would be there.

[serinesaccade]

what do the numbers mean for R’s passcode the 0615

I think you're talking about R's password in I'm not the moon (I'm not even a star) and the answer is that it's a reference to when they started fake dating. June (06 month) of 2015 (15). Yes R is a sap. His background and cover photo are both Enjolras so of course his password is also Enjolras. Amnesiac!R has no idea and it means nothing to him. Enj has never been told and doesn't know (typical) but he does know that he was given R's password like 3 weeks after they began (fake) dating. Which. Many other amis know R's passwords and Enjolras was just never close enough to receive it so it WAS a lil rush of happiness for him. Also, he was expecting R to hold him at arm's length. (Esp since in the aftermath of them starting to fake date R was veeeery bitter and resistant and rebellious aka hurt and awkward and vulnerable). But even in that awkwardness! R gave him his password and started letting him into his life. Enj would never abuse access so he didn't snoop. (Though if he had some misunderstandings might have cleared sooner.)

Anyway, Enj associates the password with a level of trust and honesty he didn't expect from Grantaire at a delicate time. He's having flashbacks. Like flashbacks of both early days (opening the phone and getting maps and going thru R's music in the car) and later days (texting JBM for R because R is too comfortable while they're cuddling to do it himself).

This is a much more extensive answer than what you were asking but tl;dr R is a sap

[combeauferre]

🙃 for feuilly

🙃 - someone to share in their suffering

Combeferre sits in the coffee shop by himself fifteen minutes before he decides to text Feuilly. He's not the kind of person to forget about things like this, and today was the day he'd told Combeferre he was keeping free. It's another few minutes before he gets any response.

Feuilly: God, sorry things have been kind of crazy. Have you been waiting long?

Combeferre: Not too long, everything okay?

Feuilly: Sorry, kinda. I'm stuck in the library right now, I have some shit that needs doing. Maybe we can do tomorrow?

Combeferre: Don't worry, I can bring coffee to you.

Feuilly: Ferre no, don't worry about it. I'm fine.

Feuilly: Ferre.

He doesn't check his phone again, downing the coffee in his mug and heading back to the counter for another two black coffees to take on his way. He can hear Joly's voice in his head reminding him he was going to cut back on caffeine and sighs. That can wait till tomorrow.

When he makes it to the library he sees Jehan curled up in the usual corner he finds on his lunch break, an old tattered book in his hands and headphones in. He thinks about going to say hi, but as soon as Jehan knows Feuilly is here he'll want to join them too, and Combeferre has the distinct feeling Feuilly might prefer to be alone. Alone time he might be disrupting, he realises after a moment, feeling a twinge of guilt. If it's really that bad, he decides, he can just drop off the coffee and leave.

Quietly turning away from Jehan, he makes his way through the library, checking every nook and cranny for Feuilly. If he'd left the library he'd have texted, but Combeferre has a coffee in each hand and no way of checking. He's almost ready to turn around and search the whole place again when he hears a distinct clearing of the throat that he knows belongs to Feuilly, and heads round to the computers. There he sits, hair messy, bags under his eyes, jacket pulled tightly round his shoulders.

"Fee?" Combeferre says gently, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh!" he starts, looking up and relaxing when he sees Combeferre's face. "Ferre, sorry. What are you doing here? I told you I was fine."

"You don't look it," he says, pulling out a chair. "Can I sit?"

"Sure," Feuilly says, eyeing up the coffees on the desk beside them.

"Oh, have it, it's for you," Combeferre says, and Feuilly picks one and takes a big swig, sighing. "What happened?"

Feuilly shrugs.

"Got laid off," he says quietly. "Out of nowhere, a bunch of us."

"Shit." Ferre stares at the computer screen, about ten tabs open for job applications. "They give you any time, or..."

"Nope," Feuilly shrugs. "Not sure why I expected them to give more of a shit about us, honestly." He scoffs. "Fucking stupid."

"You were there for years, Fee, you can't beat yourself up for expecting some kind of loyalty."

"I'm gonna get so much shit from Enjolras for it."

"No you won't," Combeferre frowns.

"Well he won't say it," Feuilly says, "but he'll go on his rant about how all companies are the same, none of them care about any of us, you know the rant. It's gonna be in between the lines, I should've always been ready for this."

"Fee, stop, you can't live like that, you said yourself it was out of nowhere, you couldn't have seen it coming." He sighs. "I'm sorry, I'm distracting you. I can leave if you want."

"No Ferre, I'm sorry," Feuilly sighs. "Would you stay?" his voice suddenly sounds desperate and he looks at Combeferre with a tired sadness. Combeferre smiles softly and settles properly into the seat, and some of the tension seems to seep out of Feuilly's body.

"You want to tell me about anything you found? Or just have some company?"

"Company sounds nice," he murmurs, turning his attention back to the screen. Combeferre smiles and pulls out his old and tattered Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, finding where he'd left off.

"I swear you've read that a million times," Feuilly says fondly. Combeferre shrugs.

"It just never gets old."

"Maybe I'll borrow it off you some time," Feuilly says, sighing quietly.

As much as Combeferre would like to turn off the screen and get Feuilly home, into bed and asleep, he knows this needs to be done. Holding in a sigh of his own, he turns to the book, settling in to read.

[kjack89]

hope it never ends

Started writing this back when it was, y'know, timely. Then had to get stitches in my hand and have struggled with the whole typing thing. So even though it took me longer than reasonable to finish, have whatever this is.

Established E/R, modern AU.

Enjolras pressed Joly and Bossuet’s doorbell with his elbow since he was holding a coffee in each hand. Joly answered the door, blinking blearily at him. “You know, I really thought these days were over,” he said with a yawn, stepping back to let Enjolras in.

“So did I,” Enjolras said, a little grimly. He hesitated, realizing for the first time he should’ve brought more coffee. “Sorry, I didn’t think—”

Joly waved a dismissive hand, yawning again. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’m going back to bed anyway.”

Despite the circumstances, Enjolras couldn’t quite stop his smile as Joly turned and revealed that the hair on the back of his head was sticking straight up. “What about Bossuet?”

“There wasn’t even a break in his snoring when you rang the doorbell,” Joly said sourly, giving Enjolras one more wave over his shoulder as he shuffled back to his bedroom. That left Enjolras with nothing to do but head into the living room and the conversation he was already dreading.

As much as Enjolras loved to watch Grantaire sleep, he was glad that the man was already awake and sitting up, scrolling through his phone when Enjolras walked in. He wasn’t in the mood to sit around waiting for Grantaire to wake up, not when his own sleep had been disturbed by not having the other man there. “Here,” he said gruffly in lieu of a greeting. “I brought you coffee.”

Grantaire lit up. “My hero,” he said with no small amount of enthusiasm, dropping his phone in his lap to reach out with both hands for the extended cup of coffee. 

Enjolras hesitated before asking, “Can I sit?” When Grantaire just arched an eyebrow, he clarified, “Next to you?”

Something softened in Grantaire’s expression. “Of course,” he said, and Enjolras jerked a nod before sitting down next to him on the couch.

For a long moment, both men sipped their coffee in silence, Enjolras glancing at Grantaire and trying to determine how this conversation would go. But unlike most times that had preceded heart-to-heart conversations in Joly and Bossuet’s living room, they hadn’t (to Enjolras’s knowledge at least) had a fight. Or a disagreement. Or even a joke that didn’t quite land right.

To Enjolras’s knowledge, everything between them yesterday had been fine.

Up until the point when he had gotten a text from Grantaire at 1 in the morning letting him know that he was spending the night at Joly and Bossuet’s.

Which invariably meant Enjolras had missed something.

“So what’s going on?” he said, cautiously breaking the silence.

Grantaire glanced at him and away again. “Nothing,” he said, a little too quickly.

Enjolras didn’t buy it for a second. “And yet you slept here last night,” he pointed out.

Grantaire shrugged. “Well, I was a little drunk,” he said.

“That’s never stopped you from sleeping in our bed before,” Enjolras said, trying very hard not to sound accusatory.

Grantaire made a face. “Fine, so I was drunk, and a little in my feelings, and being ridiculous, and I thought for the sake of the longevity of our relationship, it might be a wise idea to crash here.”

He said it all in a rush, and Enjolras took a moment before responding. “When you say you were in your feelings—” he started cautiously, and Grantaire barked a humorless laugh, running a hand across his face.

“That’s probably a mild way of putting it,” he muttered.

Enjolras frowned. “Oh?”

Grantaire took a swig of coffee before admitting, “I was in a self-deprecating panic spiral.”

“Ah.” Enjolras knew the type of panic spiral Grantaire referred to all too well, though it had been awhile since he had witnessed one himself. “About what?”

Grantaire flushed. “I don’t want to tell you that,” he mumbled.

Enjolras stared at him, dumbfounded. The one and only time Grantaire had ever been embarrassed about the words coming out of his mouth was when he had confessed his feelings to Enjolras. “Excuse me?”

“It’s just…you’ll think it’s stupid,” Grantaire muttered. “Like, not just me being slightly irrational stupid. But me being, like, really fucking stupid.”

“Ok, well now you have to tell me,” Enjolras said, aiming for teasing to try to lighten the mood, but it seemed to have the opposite effect, as Grantaire’s flush darkened. After a long moment, Grantaire huffed a sigh and stared up at the ceiling as he mumbled something so quietly that Enjolras couldn’t catch it. “What?”

Grantaire cleared his throat. “Taylor Swift,” he said, still staring determinedly at the ceiling.

Enjolras blinked. “You were freaking out about…Taylor Swift.”

He didn’t mean it to sound as derisive as it inevitably did, but Grantaire’s expression still tightened. “See,” he said grimly. “I told you it was stupid.”

Enjolras reached out automatically, resting a light hand on Grantaire’s knee. “I didn’t say it was stupid,” he told him. “I’m just not sure that I follow. Or see what Taylor Swift has to do with the longevity of our relationship.”

“Well, not just Taylor Swift,” Grantaire amended. “Mostly her, y’know, break up.”

“I still don’t follow,” Enjolras said slowly. 

Grantaire fiddled with the lid of his coffee cup. “Well, you have to keep in mind that I was very drunk.”

“Sure.”

“So, uh, we started talking about it, and I came to the drunken conclusion that if even Taylor Swift can’t make true love work, then there’s no hope for the rest of us,” Grantaire said. “Including, mainly, you and me.”

The leap in logic was so immensely vast that Enjolras was left actually speechless for perhaps the first time in his life. “You – what?”

Grantaire shrugged almost blithely as he took another sip of coffee. “In fairness, I warned you it was stupid.”

Enjolras shook his head slowly. “More batshit insane than stupid.”

“Pretty sure that’s ableist,” Grantaire said, cracking a smile.

But Enjolras wasn’t deterred. “I’ll figure out some kind of progressive act of contrition later,” he said impatiently. “Why on God’s green earth would you think—”

“Did you miss the part where I was incredibly drunk?” Grantaire interrupted.

Enjolras scowled at him. “Yes, but need I remind you of a little phrase known as in vino veritas?” he asked sharply.

Grantaire smiled again, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Actually yes, my Latin isn’t quite what it used to be—”

“Grantaire.”

Grantaire sighed, his smile fading. “Fine,” he said, looking away. “But then I’d counter that alcohol isn’t truth serum and sometimes you say shit just to say it, especially when you’re emotional.” 

“Seemingly deliberate use of second person aside,” Enjolras said, his voice still sharp, sharper perhaps than intended, “that still doesn’t explain the apparent kernel of truth there, that you somehow think there’s no hope for us.”

“That’s not quite what I said,” Grantaire said, though he couldn’t seem to meet Enjolras’s eyes.

“And I think we’re getting into splitting hairs territory,” Enjolras returned.

This time, Grantaire’s attempt at a somewhat weak smile seemed genuine. “Yes, and there’s nothing you and I love more than parsing semantics.”

Enjolras exhaled sharply. “Under normal circumstances, sure,” he said, trying to reign in his impatience. “But this isn’t exactly normal circumstances.” He paused, trying to determine how to refocus the conversation in the least accusatory way. “So why don’t we instead focus on what it is about Taylor Swift’s break-up that has you feeling this way.”

He said it as a command more than a question, and it worked – Grantaire never was very good at ignoring a direct order, and now was no exception. Grantaire traced a finger along the seam of the couch, his expression troubled. “It’s just…Taylor and Joe were, by all accounts, very much in love, right?” Enjolras guessed it was a rhetorical question but nodded anyway. “With, like, a dozen songs about their love on best selling records to prove it. And now they’re just – not.”

Something about the way the last word caught in Grantaire’s throat gave Enjolras pause, and he nodded slowly, understanding beginning to dawn. “And you’re worried that one day, you and I will just not love each other.”

Grantaire’s eyes darted to his and away again. “Well, less that we’ll just not love each other, and more…”

He trailed off, and Enjolras’s heart clenched. “You’re worried that one day, I’ll just stop loving you.”

He said it flatly, and Grantaire jerked a shrug. “I wasn’t before,” he said. “But now…”

“But now just because Taylor Swift and her boyfriend broke up, you suddenly doubt everything about us?” Enjolras asked, unable to temper the sharpness in his tone.

“No,” Grantaire said, equally sharp. “But it put the idea in my head, and after one too many drinks last night, I couldn’t get it out of my head.” He met Enjolras’s eyes, something of a challenge in his expression. “Besides, you can’t tell me it’s out of the realm of possibility.”

Enjolras didn’t rise to it. “I could,” he said quietly. “But even if I did,  I don’t think promising you that it’s not going to happen will help.” He paused before adding, somewhat pointedly, “Especially to someone already disinclined toward belief.”

Grantaire managed a weak smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s not that I wouldn’t believe you, per se,” he said, “it’s just that I don’t think it’s something you can really promise.”

“Why not?”

“Because love doesn’t work that way,” Grantaire said, almost impatiently. “You can’t control who you fall out of love with any more than you can control who you fall in love with.” He gave Enjolras a look. “And don’t try to deny it, because I know you never would have chosen this.”

Enjolras just shook his head. “Didn’t I?” he said quietly. “Aren’t I still?”

Grantaire made a small noise of dissent. “Be serious.”

“I am,” Enjolras told him. “I don’t think you can control lust, or attraction, and those are the things that can fade. But being in love is hell of a lot more than either of those. Being in love is choosing to build a life with someone, and choosing to stay if those things do fade. Being in love is choosing not to walk away when things get hard, or—”

“Or if your boyfriend decides to panic spiral about Taylor Swift?”

Enjolras half-smiled. “Or that.” He reached for Grantaire’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Love is an emotion, and one that you don’t have a lot of control over. But being in love is an act, and it’s an act that you have to choose every single day.”

He said it definitively, but Grantaire just made a face. “Now I think you’re the one entering into splitting hairs territory,” he said dismissively.

“And I don’t think I am,” Enjolras said. “I just don’t see being in love as something you fall out of, as if it’s some kind of accident. I think it’s a decision, conscious or otherwise, to stop putting in the work and doing the actions that sustain a relationship, sometimes for very good reason.” He squeezed Grantaire’s hand again. “Right now, I don’t have a reason, good or otherwise, to decide against choosing you and choosing this. And that I can promise you.”

Grantaire shook his head slowly. “You really believe that?”

Enjolras nodded. “I do.” He nudged Grantaire with his shoulder. “As much as you believe that the Donald Trump animatronic at Disney’s Hall of Presidents was originally Hillary Clinton and they had to super quickly swap them out.”

Seemingly despite himself, Grantaire barked a laugh. “Ok, but that’s, like, practically verified fact at this point.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes affectionately. “It’s decidedly not, but…” He gave Grantaire a pointed look. “Since that’s what you consider verified fact for me to compare my beliefs to…”

Grantaire let out a low whistle. “Wow.”

Still, there was something in his expression that told Enjolras this wasn’t resolved by any stretch. “And yet you don’t seem convinced,” he observed.

Something tightened in Grantaire’s face. “I want to be,” he said, his voice low. “You have no idea how much I want to be.” He laced his fingers with Enjolras’s. “You have spoken some truly beautiful words, and obviously I know firsthand what a gifted orator you are, but still…”

He trailed off, and Enjolras waited a moment before prompting, “But still.”

Grantaire just shook his head. “But as beautiful as they are, they’re just words. And even though the only thing I’ve ever believed in is you…”

This time, Enjolras didn’t need to prompt him to know what he was thinking. “It’s not enough to believe in just me,” he said, his breath catching in his throat. “Not when it comes to this.”

“Again, I want it to be,” Grantaire said softly.

“I know,” Enjolras said, equally quiet. “But the only way I can prove that they’re more than just words is with time. Which means you have to believe me enough to try.”

Grantaire half-smiled. “I’ll try.”

“You’ll try to try?” Enjolras asked, mostly teasing, and was rewarded with Grantaire rolling his eyes, his smile widening.

“I’ll try to believe you,” he amended, before adding, in a clear effort to head off any of Enjolras’s protestations to the contrary, “It’s as good as you’re going to get.”

Since Enjolras hadn’t planned on making any protestations, especially about this, especially knowing how delicate of a line they sometimes walked, he just leaned in and kissed Grantaire’s forehead before asking, “Then can you promise me something else?”

“What?”

“Next time, can you at least believe in me enough to come home and have the conversation with me there?”

Again Grantaire laughed, but it was as close to his usual laughter as Enjolras had heard all morning. “In fairness, who knows when there will be a next time that Taylor Swift breaks up with someone?” Grantaire asked innocently, though his grin was wicked.

Enjolras just rolled his eyes. “I mean it,” he said. “The next time you have doubts, or are in your feelings about us. Come home to me.”

Grantaire’s expression softened, but before he could say anything, Joly called from the bedroom, “Seconded,” followed by Bossuet’s sleepy shout of, “Thirded.”

Enjolras arched an eyebrow at Grantaire, who rolled his eyes. “The ayes have it, I guess,” he groused, before leaning in and kissing Enjolras. “And yes, I believe in you enough for that.”

“Good,” Enjolras said, standing and holding a hand out to Grantaire to help him up from the couch. “Then let’s go home before I decide to sell our tickets to Taylor Swift’s tour for the sake of our relationship.”

Grantaire’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t fucking dare,” he said, mock-scandalized

Enjolras laughed lightly, turning to press a kiss to Grantaire’s temple. “No, I wouldn’t,” he agreed, taking Grantaire’s hand once more. “I promise.”

[audaciiae]

@republicing from x

Camilla thinks that maybe she shouldn’t have sent that message. It was silly, stupid, an impulse. She feels that she’s been more impulsive since the bacchanal, since she met Dionysos in the flesh in multiple ways. But it’s true: last night plays in her head like a record that won’t stop skipping. She thinks of Enjolras, his warmth, how he smelled, the noises he made...she wants to be selfish, even if Charles wouldn’t let her have something for long.

[TEXT]: Oh, my pen? Of course. I didn’t realize I had left it.

An innocuous conversation, if Charles were to go through her phone, as he is want to do. Earlier texts can be deleted. No one would ever be the wiser.

[TEXT]: I can be over in ten minutes. I’ll knock.

Charles is still passed out from whatever he drank last night, and so it’s easy for Camilla to leave without disturbing him. A note on the table that says she went out for lunch and would be back later. As she walks across campus, she feels her heart racing, her palms tingling. She had been so sure that Enjolras might reject her last night. But she is so very glad that he didn’t.

She eventually comes to his dorm, his room, knocks on the door and gingerly pushes it open. There he is, beautiful as ever, and she finds herself smiling before she can even stop herself. “Afternoon. What’s that you’re reading?”

[enjolrasrising]

[magical-beings-and-other-things]

[lesamisagainstnapoleon]

modern ami headcanons

Feuilly has had the same phone case for six years. It's green with "Poland" printed in capital letters inside a heart, and Feuilly refuses to give it up. "It's not protecting your phone, Feuilly!" "Yeeaaahhh, it definitely is. Anyway I can't afford one" "THEY'RE LIKE TEN BUCKS FEUILLY I CAN GET ONE FOR YOU--" "really, I'm good, thanks :)" (as he drops his phone and the case gets a new crack)

Bahorel is famous for arriving to class late, and always in a new way. The students (and secretly, the professors) all look forward to his daily entrances. Sometimes he's on roller blades, other times he's hopping on one foot and wearing a giant purple wig. On days when he's sick and can't make it to class, everyone feels a little less energetic and happy to be there.

Combeferre is adamant about helping people with their studies. "I don't really want to bother you but--" "SHOW ME THE ASSIGNMENT" He gets legitimately SO excited when people ask him for homework help. One of his favorite people to help is Gavroche, who has a bit of trouble with long division. Combeferre always makes studying seem fun and enjoyable, and the people he helps always leave the sessions with a little more confidence in their future grades.

Jehan enters monthly poetry competitions. He's literally always writing poetry, whether in a little notebook he always carries with him, or on his phone, or on the nearest ami's sleeve. Courfeyrac has one jacket covered in Jehan's poetry. It's his favorite thing to wear, he says, and he'll never wash it so the poems don't wear off. Jehan has won a bunch of competitions before, and usually spends the money on some more plants for his flat, or on a gift for one of his friends.

Joly is the best nurse ever. When one of the amis fall sick, he bakes up a giant container of cookies (depending on what the sick ami's preference is), grabs a stack of movies and two bottles of ginger ale, and heads to the sick ami's place to take care of them. Aside from practically force-feeding them liquids and telling them to blow their nose ("you'll feel better!!") every five minutes, he's amazing at making sick people feel better.

Enjolras is literally the best cook. You might not think it to look at him, but he can make a mean dish of lasagna or a superb shepherd's pie. Every few weeks, he has the group over to his place for his newest recipe, and whenever one of their birthdays rolls around, he "accidentally" ends up making their favorite meal for the gathering. "Oh, I just felt like making it--" "Come on, Enj, you made it for me. This is my favorite." "Aw, nah, I just felt inspired to make it--" "Enjolras"

Bossuet has a google doc that he fills with dad jokes. So far it's three hundred pages, and he adds new ones practically every day. No conversation with him is complete without him pulling up the doc and reading one of the jokes out loud, accompanied by many groans and eye rolls. People who meet him for the first time must pass the trial of hearing at least five of the jokes in a conversation before he can consider making them his friend. Each joke is so cringe-worthy it's hilarious, and Bossuet marks his favorites by changing them into bright pink text.

Grantaire takes his sketchbook literally everywhere. There's no place the amis go that he doesn't bring it. He's constantly sketching random things-- a woman at a restaurant who was reading a book, a dog who followed them to one of their meetings, a butterfly that landed on the tip of his bottle. He makes sketches of the amis, too-- laughing, playing video games together, watching movies, having a popcorn battle or a pillow fight. He'll often randomly leave one of the sketches of the amis with one of them, tucking it in the hood of their sweatshirt or under their plate for them to find later.

Courfeyrac knows, like, so much movie trivia. It's impossible for the amis to watch any movie without him rattling off something about this or that location, or oh did you know that in this scene he actually broke his toe which is why he yelled like that? None of the amis know how he gets so much trivia, but somehow he does, and while it's interesting it also gets slightly annoying when he's interrupting for the forty thousandth time to tell about that actor's wig and how they dropped it in the water accidentally. "Courfeyrac I love you but could you please let us finish this scene in peace, this is the saddest part and you just told us that the actor belched during the first take of it, puh-leeze can we just watch for a minute"

Marius gets extremely giddy when he's nervous about things. The amis will be entering one of their classes in which they have a test and Marius will suddenly latch onto one of their arms and start giggling madly while saying, "I remembered the funniest thing yesterday--" and the amis will just look at each other like "he's losing it again" and then as Marius babbles incoherently about how his dog sneezed when he was a child one of them will just pat his back and as Marius sits down and starts talking faster and waving his arms and laughing really loud because "HAHAHA, MY SHOE JUST SQUEAKED GUYS AHAHAH" they'll just nod at each other before giving Marius some Benedryl they've hidden in a cookie or something so he can calm down. Then they'll take the test and as soon as he finishes he just passes out

Gavroche is the most popular kid in his fifth grade class, mostly because he is constantly telling the teacher they should be eating candy instead of learning. (This may or may not be encouraged by Courfeyrac, who has gotten several emails concerning Gavroche's behavior but who only further inspires Gavroche to keep going). He also constantly draws goofy faces on the whiteboard when his teacher is not looking, resulting in uncontrollable snickering until the teacher turns around, sees it, and bursts into laughter herself while also trying to scold Gavroche, who looks at her with angel eyes and acts like he's been in his seat the whole time.

Eponine is a master at laser tag. Whenever the amis are looking for something to do she's always like "Oh I know I know, laser tag!" and they all internally groan because oh gosh she's about to slaughter them again. She sneaks around and you have no clue she's there until she hits you. Screams of terror often fill the air when she strikes, because she'll lurk around a corner and then leap out, a terrifying smile on her face, before targeting whatever unfortunate ami has stumbled across her. She always wins. Always. (Jehan always loses but that's because he doesn't want to take out his friends).