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shamedumpster · 9 months

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The Café Around the Corner

I won one of @kjack89's 10 year anniversary giveaway fics, and they wrote the lovely fic linked above! 🥺

So of course I had to make some art for it. Here's to another decade, dude!! Congratulations!!

#les mis #exr #enjoltaire #my-art #enjolras #grantaire #les miserables #thank you again for being so patient with my vague prompt LMAO #it came out great!!

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omgjolras · 3 months

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i see your canon era grantaire calling enjolras apollo and raise you my modern au grantaire calling enjolras Chad

#les mis #les miserables #enjoltaire #grantaire #enjolras #an official fic prompt for you

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syrupsyche · 23 days

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Eponine 🌙

🌙: With a celestial theme

—In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight / And all I see is him and me forever and forever

Thank you for the ask!! Hope you like this anon <3

#seeing the prompt made me think of éponine being “cloaked with stars”#not sure where that came from but im rolling with it #she deserves a nice warm cloak...#les mis #les mis fanart #eponine #eponine thenardier #syrup art tag #syrup asks

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darkgreenandbloodred · 2 months

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Combeferre + hidden medical condition

Combeferre has cervical spondylosis, a degenerative arthritis that affects the cervical spine. He can’t lift his arms above his head, has trouble sleeping, and is usually in pain if not at least uncomfortable. It very much affects his quality of life and mobility, but he sees it best not to complain when so many close friends have things that are so much worse physically.

“You’re hurting, huh? I know that look, Combeferre, I know it very well.” Joly teases with a small, understanding smile. “In fact I’ve been noticing it.”

Combeferre just shakes his head with a small chuckle. “Didn’t I tell you not to talk to me at work?” He jokes.

“Ah, no.” He responds, touching his cane to his nose. “I’m gonna saaay…cyclobenzaprine, ice, moist heat, and physical therapy if you have time.”

“And if I don’t have time?”

“I was being diplomatic.” He grins. “Make the time.”

“Fine.” Combeferre smiles, and just the validation alone takes some weignt off his aching shoulders.

#jolyferre #feel free to send prompts #what’s their ship name? idk lmao #les mis #les miserables #les amis de l'abc #les amis #Combeferre #Joly #I’m obsessed #btw this was completely a self insert and I will admit that wholeheartedly sorry!!!

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justgayrevolutionnaries · 9 months

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The sun, the stars and everything in between

My gift for @fructidors for the @drinkwithme-exchange ! I chose to write for Enjolras and Jehan, with maybe a bit of Triumvirate and Jehan/Grantaire friendship because I couldn't resist. I hope you enjoy !

Find it on ao3 or read below for those who prefer tumblr

1826

It was not that Enjolras distrusted rich people. He just couldn't stand them, and would rather forget that he was one himself.

So naturally when Combeferre pointed out to him a student he had met at la Sorbonne, who seemingly had no trouble with paying the monthly fee asked of him by the school, he couldn't help but at first consider him with the usual level of scorn he felt when looking at anyone coming from the higher classes.

He was soon to be proven wrong, however, for the young man turned out to be everything but what Enjolras expected.

His hair was longer than what was socially considered conventional, he spent hours looking at anything and everything with a thoughtful look on his face and seemed to be taking more interest in the sky than in the world of men. Enjolras immediately had him pinned down as a Romantic- which wasn't necessarily a good thing, since he couldn't help but feel irritated toward people who, in his eyes, spend their lives contemplating the world in melancholy but doing nothing to change it.

What really caught Enjolras's attention, however, was when he overheard the Romantic talk to a group of other students in a café often used as a gathering point by- well, young students. It sounded more like he was delivering a poem than properly talking, actually, seeing how smoothly the words were coming out of his mouth. And those words were explaining the misery of the world- and of orphans. From what Enjolras could hear, the young man was deeply affected by the fate of orphans in Paris, and seemed more than willing to act about it.

After that, Enjolras felt more than willing to talk to the redhead, even though Combeferre had been begging to introduce them for weeks. It actually seemed surprisingly easy to approach him- maybe it was the way he always looked at everything with a dreamy look on his face, or maybe it was the way Enjolras sometimes found his eyes fixed on him at gatherings, as if he was studying Enjolras or looking for something specific in him. The point was, he seemed nice. And maybe easy to talk to. Maybe that was why Enjolras found himself walking toward the young man's table at the café, forgetting he usually had no idea how to start conversations.

"I liked what you said earlier," he said bluntly. As the other looked up at him in surprise, he felt the need to elaborate : "your poem, about the night and, um, orphans. I really enjoyed listening to it."

"Well, thank you. If is not my best, but I was kind of proud of it, so I figured… why not share it with the class ?"

He had an awkward smile, much to Enjolras's surprise- for some reason he had expected him to be very laid back, like Courfeyrac, another one of his friends, but it turned out the redhead was about as talented as Enjolras to start a conversation in a decent way.

After a rather awkward moment Enjoras was wondering what he was supposed to say next and silently cursing himself for trying to start a conversation without Courfeyrac there, the poet held out his left hand for the blonde to shake, while his right one was busy trying to extract what looked like an old smoking-pipe from his pocket. He had to take out various items, including three rocks of various shapes and what seemed to be peacock feathers (Enjolras decided not to ask) before he found what he was looking for and could focus back on Enjolras.

"Jehan Prouvaire, at your service. Does it bother you if I smoke ?"

"Not at all" answered Enjolras, somewhat amused by the manners of the young man. "Jehan, huh ?"

The other waved aside with a nonchalant look. "Mere fantasy of a poet. You can call me Jean, or even Prouvaire if you like. Do you happen to have a name, or am I expected to find one for you ? Because I have multiple ideas that would quite suit you. Did you ever consider-"

Enjolras thought it wiser to interrupt him there. Not that he disliked listening to the other man, who actually had a very soft and pleasant voice, but he was afraid of the kind of nickname the eccentric redhead thought would fit him.

"That will be quite unnecessary. I am Enjolras." He said, finally reaching out for Prouvaire's hand. "I am glad to make your acquaintance… citizen."

The last word had escaped his mouth after a second of hesitation, carefully watching Prouvaire's face for his reaction. He was not, however, expecting the small laugh that came out of his lips.

"I am only amused by your carefulness. Do I look much like a royalist to you ?"

Enjolras felt the pressure on his stomach untighten. He had witnessed the unconventional behavior of the young man and heard the way he talked of the world around him, and he actually would have been very surprised if such a man turned out to be anything but a supporter of freedom- but again, one never knew. For the first time he found himself smiling genuinely at him.

"Not really. And I shall admit, I am rather happy you aren't. I would have been very disappointed to find out I was wrong about you."

"I shall be happy to have proven you right, then," the poet, who at this point was surrounded by a cloud of smoke, answered with a mocking reverence.

***

1828

He didn't know exactly what Prouvaire was doing here. Despite openly having political opinions that answered more or less those of Enjolras, the poet had never struck him as what he would call a fierce revolutionary. Not that Enjolras was unhappy to discover he had misjudged him, he was always more than content when a new friend joined their group. It was just that he suspected the poet of dropping by the café only to try and meet people who were as interested as him in studying in detail a play of Corneille, the appearance of a new constellation or the shape of the clouds.

While Enjolras was wrong in that the poet was indeed one of the most helpful members, and certainly the one that cared most about doing everything he could to help others, it was true that Jehan wasn't helping by always choosing to sit near one of the newest members of the group, whose only purpose in life seemed to be to empty as many bottles of wine as it was humanly possible.

As a matter of fact, when Enjolras happened to overhear one of the conversations taking place at the table in the corner, the two men always seemed to be talking of any imaginable subject except for the revolution.

"... must have been nice to be one of those gods living on Mount Olympus", Grantaire was currently saying. "To spend your days to eat, drink and contemplate the world- what more could one possibly ask of life ?"

Prouvaire reflected thoughtfully : "The greek gods, huh ? I have always found it quite nice that Apollo was for them not only the god of the sun, but also the god of music. After all, isn't music a way to bring light and warmth in our lives ?"

"What I like about those gods is that they seem to live on, even today, in some of us. For me, I guess I shall be Dionysus, for obvious reasons." Grantaire gestured vaguely at his body, as the poet threw him an amused look. "You can be Apollo if that pleases you- would it only be because you are such a strong defender of poetry in our world, and you can play the lyre."

"The harp, actually," Jehan interrupted him with an offended tone, "and I am surprised the comparison did not arise from my ability to brighten your life a considerable amount."

Grantaire made a disdainful gesture while rolling his eyes to the sky.

"The harp, the lyre… same difference to me. If I touched either one, all I would get out of them would be an atrocity that would so gravely offend one of your music gods that they would probably-"

He stopped abruptly when he noticed that Enjolras had left Combeferre and Courfeyrac to argue on their own on the other side of the room and was making his way toward them.

"I should probably leave now" Grantaire muttered, and before his friend could stop him he had grabbed his coat and made his way through the (extremely) crowded room to the door.

He had probably sensed that Enjolras was not in a mood to be nice with him- and he had been right, since as soon as the blonde reached the table where Jehan was left alone, seemingly wondering whether or not he should run after Grantaire, his first words were : "Do you ever wonder why the man even bothers coming here- does he at least have fun annoying all of us with his meaningless talk ?"

The words probably came out way more rude than he intended to and he immediately felt guilty of it- Jehan hadn't really done anything to deserve this.

"You should give him more credit, you know" Prouvaire said absently, his eyes still fixated on the bottle his friend had left on the table without even bothering to finish it.

Enjolras turned to him, not even trying to mask his irritation. "What should I give him credit for ? Being here ? Those meetings are for serious matters. Everyone here genuinely cares about our revolution, about helping people, fighting for them. Everyone here believes in something better that keeps them going. Grantaire doesn't believe in anything, save maybe wine."

"Doesn't he ?" There was a thoughtful look on his face, as if he hadn't been expecting Enjolras to say that. "You know… sometimes I wonder."

Prouvaire got up, most likely to try and catch up with Grantaire, leaving Enjolras to wonder what he had been trying to say.

***

1830

Prouvaire was vaguely aware that he and Enjolras were the only people left in the café, and that all the others had left when it had started to get dark. He was also vaguely aware that his friend had been talking for a while, most likely about what the better place to build a barricade would be or Courfeyrac's latest idea to find ammunition- sometimes a few words reached his ears, such as "strategic area" and "take back their freedom".

But he was only vaguely paying attention to all of this, because he had spent his afternoon in the café doing what he did best- living in his own world and writing endlessly. For some reasons the ideas were flowing to his mind today, and he had covered countless sheets in scribbled words, unfinished verses and distracted doodles. But now he had been stuck on this verse for a while and did not like it.

At this moment he heard Enjolras clap his fingers and ask, in a voice that seemed worlds away from him : "Prouvaire, do you really find me this boring ?"

The sarcasm passed unnoticed as the poet, not looking up from the sheet in front of him and seeming incredibly focused on the quill in his hand, managed to let out enough words to communicate like a normal human being. .

"I think I need your help, actually." Paying absolutely no attention to his friend's sigh, he added : "Can you find a good synonym for "loyalty" ?"

Surprised at first, Enjolras's look was quick to soften and since he knew that it would be useless to try and blame Jehan, and was not even willing to, as he felt a kind of tenderness where the soft nature of the poet was concerned, he chose to be helpful and answer the question.

"Faithfulness ?" He suggested. "Devotion ?" As if his own words had brought a new idea to his mind, he frowned and added "things I wish more men would have."

Jehan was about to answer that "faithfulness" had too many syllables for what he was trying to do, but surprised by the bitter tone, unusual in the usually passionate voice of his friend, he managed to get out of his bubble and looked up to find the blonde staring into space, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Well, that sounds like an optimistic thought coming from you. What do you mean by that, if I may ask ?"

His friend sighed and opened his arms. "I don't really know myself. I guess sometimes I feel like I have lost faith- we are doing something so important here, but we have no guarantee of anything. No guarantee that what we do will change something, no guarantee that the men will have the heart to come and help us in this fight. I know I shouldn't think that, because I believe in our fight, but I can't help it."

Prouvaire interrupted him with his soft voice, putting a hand on the other man's arm : "why shouldn't you ? It is normal to have doubts, you know. But as long as you remember what you are fighting for, those doubts can not stop you."

Enjolras let his head fall back with a thoughtful look in his eyes.

"I envy you, you know."

The poet glanced an intrigued look at him.

"Before I consider myself flattered, I am going to need you to elaborate. You are really looking quite weird today, Enjolras."

"You always seem to be so optimistic, you know. About pretty much everything- the flowers in your garden, the friends you meet, the fact that any of this-" he gestured with a bitter look at the empty tables surrounding them, "has a chance to ever succeed. This is why I admire you, and with you all the poets. You know how to find hope in the smallest things, be it a ladybug in a garden or a burnt-out candle."

"But you seem to be quite the poet yourself, my friend."

Enjolras merely shook his head, although his friend's suggestion had managed to bring a smile to his lips.

"I leave such activities to those worthy of them. I fear one couldn't call anything I do poetic- all I ever do is talk of revolution and mythic battles, and you can not call me a poet for merely writing speeches."

"You are wrong here. I have seen how you always have your way with words. It is why they admire you, you know. People such as our friends, Grantaire, myself… everyone. Unlike so many people, you know the power of words and how to use it. Maybe it seems to you there is no poetry in your thoughts, but I can assure you your speeches and your ideals inspire me as much as any poem of Dante or anyone else could. And this is a compliment, really."

Enjolras, whose only reaction to this had been to smirk at the mention of Grantaire, had to admit softly :

"If you say so my friend. I suppose I can trust your opinion on those matters. As long as you do not ask me to start smoking the pipe or write what you would consider a poetic verse, I am fine with being considered a poet in the way you mean it."

Jehan burst out laughing at this.

"Don't come and give me ideas. And I am sure you would love it, by the way."

***

1831

"I can not believe I got out of bed for this. Did we really have to be there this early ? The night hasn't even fallen yet" Courfeyrac complained.

"You didn't have to come, then" Combeferre replied mockingly, which earned him a scandalized look from the former.

It had been Prouvaire's idea, unsurprisingly- to spend the evening in the Luxembourg garden so they could look at the stars. There were only four of them, Prouvaire, Combeferre, Enjolras, who was there half willingly and half because the first two had threatened him or dragging him to a ball later if he did not come, and Courfeyrac who could not possibly imagine not being involved in an evening between friends. Grantaire had been invited as well, but for some reason he did not elaborate on, he had refused to come.

"You know," Courfeyrac reflected, pensively looking at a flower he had picked up a few minutes ago, "I have always wondered why you poets always enjoyed looking at the stars so much. I am not saying they are boring, but to look at them your entire lives… what do you find in them that we," he elbowed Enjolras in the ribs,"mere mortals, don't ?"

Jehan let out a small laugh at this. "There is not one answer to this, you know. This is why I like the stars, actually. They mean something different for everyone. I guess I like how they mostly remind me of how small we all are- or, if you want a more optimistic thought, they are at the same time a symbol of hope. Simply consider the way they are so far away from us, yet they are so big that their light still reaches us from over there. And they have been shining like this for longer than we could even imagine."

"Stars can die too, like everything." Enjolras couldn't help but point out, which caused Prouvaire to frown slightly.

"Who is talking about dying ? Dying can wait for now. I would much rather spend my time listening to the sound of a river, watching flowers grow or studying the stars, like now. And like you are doing right now for what I believe is the first time in your life. Enjoy life for a moment, my friend."

He put an arm around Enjolras's shoulders, smiling encouragingly at him, but the blonde shoved him back playfully.

"Contrary to popular belief, my friend, I actually do enjoy looking at the stars."

Combeferre looked at him, raising his eyebrows slightly in a disbelieving manner. "Do you now ? Not so long ago I would have sworn you would rather take a bullet to the chest than even take a second to contemplate the world around you, let alone the world above you."

Enjolras purposely decided to ignore the mocking undertone in Combeferre's voice and answered with a simple shrug. "I don't know any more than you do. It simply happens that they have a calming effect on me, so I like to look at them every so often. And even objectively speaking, stars are beautiful. You shouldn't expect a man to just pass them by without ever looking at them once in his life."

"Actually, you can," Courfeyrac chimed in for some reason. "Look at Pontmercy. He is always so absorbed by his thoughts, I doubt he even noticed there is a sky above us."

As Combeferre rolled his eyes to the sky, as often when Pontmercy was mentioned, Jehan pointed out softly : "you can not blame him for that, Courfeyrac, if he is in love with one of them."

The three of them got into an argument to decide whether or not Pontmercy was actually in love, and Enjolras smiled softly at the stars, thinking that Prouvaire might actually be right about them- like he was about everything.

Life was good.

***

1832

Jehan had been blindfolded. That was the only thing clear to him right now. His memory felt foggy. All he could remember was looking at Bahorel in horror as he got stabbed in the chest. Then lots of noise, screams and shorts, and then a new voice (was it Pontmercy ? It sounded like Pontmercy) dominating all the others. After that he remembered being dragged away in an alley, and trying to scream for help- Enjolras's name, Grantaire's name, anyone that could come and help him.

And red. Lots of red. So much red… everywhere.

He felt someone seize him by the shoulder and push him forward- against a wall. He didn't even need to listen to the declaration of the captain -he guessed it was a captain, a general wouldn't bother with this- to know what was going to happen next.

"Any last words ?"

So many.

He wanted to see his friends one final time, tell them how much he loved them. He wanted to write so many poems, many small verses that would just make one long poem, and claim it to the world.

He wanted to look at everything around him- Paris, his friends, the sky- one final time. He wanted to tell Grantaire all about the sun rising. He wanted to promise them, all of them, that they needed to hope, that the future would surely be brighter, it was only a matter of time. He wanted to tell Enjolras that he needed to look at the stars again, because it might be his final chance to do so.

But he knew he couldn't do any of this- he was out of time.

So all he did was raise his chin proudly and smile. And now he could smile genuinely, because he knew what he believed in- because it was what Enjolras had taught him. Because he had hope for the future, if not for now.

"Vive la France ! Vive l'avenir !"

***

"Vive la France ! Vive l'avenir !"

Enjolras clenched his jaw. His hand was still on Combeferre's arm when the shot rang out, and he used it to steady himself as he realized -as they both realized- what the succession of noises meant.

"They killed him !" Combeferre gasped in horror.

Enjolras nodded slowly. He had expected it, they had talked about it- he just didn't expect for this to become real. He didn't imagine a poet could actually die like anyone else, let alone Jean Prouvaire.

But apparently it was real. Not that it could change much, at this point. He knew that he couldn't afford to lose hope- not right now, not until this was over.

But for now…

He turned to the spy attached to the pillar, who still hadn't moved. "Your friends have just shot you," he said.

#I had no beta for this one so this is 100% the naturally unhinged thoughts that go on in my brain. hope you enjoy /hj #a few things I might add to this...#i had way too many prompt ideas for this one so I couldn't resist making a longer fic to write what I wanted #writing dialogue is officially my black beast I can not write a decent conversation for my life #although I had tons of fun trying to come up with lines for those two !#also I had to make give a tragic ending because I am physically incapable of writing anything not angsty #... also it's canon era in my defense #okay leo stop ranting in the tags challenge #yes I got a bit carried away but you can't prove anything against me #*digs a hole and disappears for the next few years*#les mis #les miserables #enjolras #jehan prouvaire #jean prouvaire #drinkwithme2023 #victor hugo #les amis de l'abc

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thelawsofdaylight · 1 year

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Relationship: Enjolras & Grantaire Wordcount: 3,912 Chapters: 2/2

They’ll later learn it was an act of sabotage. Since their maiden voyage, the Musain and her crew have managed to establish themselves as one of the most prolific rebel groups in the galaxy. Such a feat does not come without making enemies.

That’s later, though.

In the present, Enjolras tries to keep his calm as he watches Grantaire float further and further away from the hull of the shuttle, knowing that the longer he waits to act, the less chance Grantaire has of making it back alive.

___

Or, a Les Amis in space AU wherein a scheduled maintenance check goes horribly wrong and Enjolras becomes Grantaire's only hope of a rescue. Written for @racetrackthehiggins as part of the Discorinthe Anniversary Exchange!

#les mis #les amis #enjolras #grantaire #enjoltaire #exr #my writing #SURPRISE ANOTHER FIC #i hope this goes some way to explaining why roads is taking so long. good reasons i promise!!!! back to it now these are up and done!!!!!#also thank u gabe for planting the idea of space pirates in my mind with your prompt. so so so fun #*banging pots and pans* come get ur hurt/comfort!!!!!! in SPACE!!!!!!!1

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http-4yaka · 4 months

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I did a thing :3

Ese día Pepito se despertó temprano, tenía un largo día por delante. Tenía que planear su fiesta de cumpleaños! Los otros Pepitos iban a festejar con él!

Lo primero que hizo Pepito después de levantarse fue salir del hotel e ir directamente a casa de su apa Roier.

Al llegar fue directo a la cocina, tenía que preparar su torta de cumpleaños!

Recuerda que hace un tiempo vio un libro de cocina así que se puso a buscarlo. Al encontrarlo buscó entre las páginas la receta de una torta.

Cuando encontró la receta se puso a buscar los ingredientes, sabe que su apa Roier tiene muchos guardados!

Una vez que Pepito tenía todos los ingredientes fue a buscar una silla para alcanzar la encimera, después de todo Pepito seguía siendo muy chiquito.

Cuando terminó de mezclar los ingredientes y poner la masa en un molde tocaba meterlo en el horno, Pepito tenía un poco de miedo pero logró hacerlo sin problemas!

Ahora que el molde estaba en el horno Pepito se puso a limpiar lo que ensucio, tomó un poco de tiempo pero dejó el lugar muy limpio.

Una vez pasado el tiempo que decía el libro Pepito apagó el horno, casi se quema al querer sacar el molde pero se acordo de ponerse los guantes de cocina. El libro decía que la torta tenía que enfriarse antes de decorar así que la dejo en la encimera.

Ahora tocaba hacer las decoraciones! Pepito fue a la habitación que su apa le dio en el castillo a buscar hojas y lapices de colores, después de todo el lugar tenía que ser bonito para cuando lleguen los otros Pepitos!

Al encontrar lo que buscaba se sentó en el suelo y se puso a pintar las hojas. Cuando terminó de pintar se fue al patio para colgar las hojas en una cuerda, tenía miedo de que el viento se las lleve pero va a estar bien, tiene que estar bien! Después de todo es su primer cumpleaños!

Una vez terminó fue a buscar una mesa y sillas, los otros Pepitos no podían quedarse parados durante toda la fiesta!

Tardo un rato pero finalmente las sillas y mesa estaban en su lugar, Pepito tuvo que buscar unas sillas de más para hacer el juego de las sillas musicales, pero ya todo estaba perfecto!

Cuando terminó, Pepito fue adentro para decorar la torta. Una vez más buscó los ingredientes que necesitaba para la decoración se volvió a subir a la encimera y empezó a decorar. Su color favorito era el rosa pero decoró la torta con los colores rojo y azul, como spiderman!

Ya termino con la comida y la decoración, incluso decoró el lugar con amarantos, su flor favorita! Ahora sólo faltaba que fueran los invitados!

Pepito espero y espero toda la tarde, se había esforzado muchísimo! Quería que su primer cumpleaños fuera especial, de verdad lo quería.

Pepito esperaba que tal vez su hermano mayor, Richas despertará para la fiesta, pero sabia que el mayor tenia un mal horario de sueño y que seguramente no despertaría a tiempo, pero no importaba! Le guardaría un gran pedazo de torta!

Pepito creía que sus nuevas amigas, Pomme y Leo, fuesen a su fiesta, pero seguramente ambas estaban muy ocupadas...

Tal vez Empanada y Sunny irían, ya que ellas tambien cumplían años ese día, tal vez podrían festejar los tres juntos! Pero tampoco fueron...

Pepito espero y espero lo que quedaba de la tarde, ya se estaba haciendo de noche. La vela de cumpleaños seguía sin prenderse, Pepito quería esperar a los invitados para soplarla.

Pepito espero y espero a que alguien llegara a su fiesta de cumpleaños...

Esperen! Finalmente llegó alguien! Foolish! Su abuelo!

Pepito estaba muy feliz de ver a su abuelo ahi!

Su abuelo llegó con un regalo en manos y le preguntó si quería abrirlo en ese momento o más tarde, Pepito dijo que después de soplar la vela de cumpleaños.

Pepito estaba feliz! Su abuelo fue a su fiesta de cumpleaños y jugaron juntos! Foolish hasta le canto en español!

Pepito le dijo a su abuelo que también pidiera un deseo!

El deseo de Foolish era que Pepito se convirtiera en PepitoSpiderman!

El deseo de Pepito era que su apa esté bien, incluso si no vuelve en mucho tiempo.

Finalmente Pepito abrió su regalo, era una máscara de Spiderman!

Pepito estaba muy feliz! Festejo su cumpleaños con su abuelo! Tal vez no comieron la torta o jugaron tantos juegos como espero, pero de todas formas estaba feliz!

Una vez Foolish se fue Pepito se dedico a guardar todo, guardo la torta, la mesa y sillas. Bajo las decoraciones y fue a guardarlas en su cofre.

Pepito estaba cansado, pero de todas formas quería probar la torta que se esforzó tanto en hacer, corto un pedazo y lo comió, estaba muy rica! Pero esperaba poder compartirla con su hermano... le guardaría la torta para cuando despertase.

Pepito bostezo, estaba muy cansado como para volver al hotel, así que decidió dormirse en su cuarto en el castillo, se cambió, guardo sus cosas en el cofre, agarro su peluche de palomitas de maíz y se acostó a dormir, después de todo fue un largo día.

#aus que no voy a escribir #porque no sé desarrollar historias #me gusta el angst y se nota #es la una de la mañana no me pidan que no tenga errores ortograficos #mi amiga se tiene que bancar el angst que le mando ayudenla #pepito mi protegido #qsmp au prompt #qsmp au #qsmp pepito #pepito the egg #qsmp fanfiction #qsmp foolish #foolis best abuela

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sageswirll · 7 months

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hi people! i need to start writing fanfics. any prompts? any tips and tricks? thank you!

#les mis #les miserables #les mis fanfic #les mis fic #mis #mis fic #enjoltaire #marisette #eposette even #anything #fanfic #fanfiction #prompts #tips #tricks

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racetrackthehiggins · 1 year

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kinktober in july?

its more likely than you might think! me (and @margosfairyeye and possibly @blowmewankenobi) are anticipating a busy october so we're gonna do kinktober in july!!

please send me kinks to add to our list and I'll let you know what we're doing on which days!

(pls currently only send kinks and not full requests. the time will come for that but now is not that time)

(you can do it on anon. no judgement)

#kinktober #prompts #I'm gonna write stranger things and les mis #maybe hannibal if ur good

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officerwaltons · 9 months

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BLOG INFO:

hi all! welcome to my multi-muse. my prompts can be found here, & all the characters i write are down below. original character are denoted with an astirix. muses i write for include :

MUSICALS—

Jack Kelly & Mary Richards (Newsies), Courfeyac, Musichetta, & Joly (Les Miserables)

LITERATURE/FILM—

Peter Pevensie (Chronicles of Narnia), Steve Rogers (Marvel), Carlisle Cullen, Rosalie Hale, Winifred Hale* (Twilight Saga), & James Potter and Pollux Black* (Marauders Era).

HISTORICAL—

Quinn Walton (Titanic-based OC), Anne Neville, Arthur Tudor, Henry Tudor Duke of Cornwall (Alternate History/The Tudors based), & Martha Wayles Jefferson.

admin info & rules below the cut :-)

hi there, thank you for reading so far! my name is tanny, & i use she/her pronouns. this blog is minors dni. i do not post any nsfw content, but since i am 24, i don’t feel comfortable having minors interact w my page.

unless otherswise stated, my ask box is always open for prompts/starters. i prefer writing full length plots on discord, so feel free to pm me for that. this blog is also run on mobile, so i apologize for any formatting issues that may not translate well onto the computer.

i am working on getting a muse info doc set up, so please bare with me on that front. i look forward to writing with you all !

a few other misc. things: i don’t write smut. if you do, please put that under a cut. this blog is also not mutuals exclusive, although i do my best to follow everyone back ! the only time i won’t is if i don’t see any fandoms that intersect.

#muse changes #admin notes #boring things but send in prompts!#narnia rp #newsies rp #les miserables rp #les mis rp

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darkgreenandbloodred · 2 months

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This is going to be very predictable of me, but XD

Joly + very small baby

“I swear, I’ll be right back, just got to go pick up our dinner!” Musichetta had said before running out the door, leaving Joly alone with Marius and Cosettes 15 month old. The two needed a date night and Musichetta volunteered to watch little Catherine. She had just barely started walking and saying words. Joly doesn’t get a chance to protest babysitting her, if only for a few minutes.

“Ba…” She says, running over to a ball on the floor and rolling it hesitantly.

“Oh, yes, very good.” Joly smiles tightly, despite going through every worst case scenario in his head, and how he could mitigate said scenarios.

She walks over and pats his cane. “Mamama!”

“Cane.” He says simply. She stares up at him with her big brown eyes, and he feels compelled to explain further. “It helps Uncle Joly walk. I have sickle cell anemia. And a few other diagnoses as well but, well…that’s the big one.”

“Jo!” She squeals, patting his cane and then walking back over to the ball.

He smiles. “You look like your father. And you’re already about as smart as him, too. That’s very good.”

“Good.” Catherine repeats, and then he remembers how Cosette was saying that she was in her repeating stage.

“Yes, that’s right! Good!” He affirms proudly, and when Musichetta comes back a few minutes later, Catherine becomes alert.

“Dada!”

“Just me, little one.” The woman smiles sympathetically, slipping her shoes off before turning her attention to Joly. “Have you heard from Bossuet on what time he is getting home, honey?”

“Ah, I haven’t even checked my phone.” Joly says and then he squints at his screen. “Oh. He actually needs picked up, probably. Missed the train.”

Musichetta snorts. “Of course he did. Poor man can’t catch a break, can he? Well, ehm, I’m sorry, I don’t want to leave you alone with her for much longer, though. I can take her with me.”

“Aw, that’s okay, love.” Joly smiles, looking back at Catherine. “We were having some nice conversations. I can keep her while you go.”

“You sure?” She asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, go on. Rescue our man.” He teases and she just laughs and rolls her eyes.

“Bye! Bye-bye!” Catherine waves as Musichetta walks out the door.

“Bye, sweet girl!” She laughs, but once the door closes again, Catherine starts to cry.

“Oh! Oh no, what’s wrong?” Joly asks softly, eyebrows knit together in worry. He wasn’t prepared for crying.

Catherine comes over, and lays her head on Joly’s knee, wailing. “Up!” She sobs.

“Up?” Joly asks nervously. “You want me to pick you up?”

“Up!” She says, and then crying turns into screams that frankly, Joly just can’t handle. He scoops her up, sitting back now as he pats her back nervously. “It’s alright, you don’t need to cry! Musichetta will be right back. And Mama and Papa too.”

“Papapa!”

“I know, Catherine.” He sympathizes, and after a few minutes her crying dies down into whining, and then into soft snores. He feels somewhat proud of himself when Bossuet and Musichetta come in the door.

“Well, look at you, The Baby Whisperer.” Musichetta teases, slipping off her shoes again.

“How cute.” Bossuet chuckles. “You know, you would be a good father.”

“You think so?”

“Definitely,” Musichetta adds in, “one day. “

“One day.”

#I know you said very small baby but I wrote a 15 month old since that’s my area of expertise currently 😜#les mis #les miserables #les amis de l'abc #joly #jbm #Bossuet #musichetta #asks #send me an HC prompt?

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