Prouvaire's gaze met Combeferre's, accompanied by a gentle smile. “If it is not a night of rest that I have interrupted, would you mind terribly accompanying me to the cemetery at Montparnasse? I have heard the most fascinating tales of a ghost haunting its grounds these past weeks. Better yet, tonight is to be moonless, and its deepest dark shall be perfectly suited for calling forth a spirit from the life beyond.”
----------------------
In which Prouvaire makes a surprise visit, a cemetery is broken into, a ghost is (not) summoned, and stars are gazed upon.
My @drinkwithme-exchange fic for @threadbaremillionaire! I went stargazing in a national park during the peak of the Perseids, and decided to share this experience with them with some added shenanigans and sincerity both.
Grantaire woke up curled in on himself, the freezing night air assaulting his exposed back. His calves were seizing up, muscles tensing against the cold. His fingers and toes were numb.
He didn't need to open his eyes to know that Enjolras had rolled over and taken the warm blanket with him, leaving only a little bit to cover half of Grantaire’s body. Grantaire pumped his fist a few times to get the blood running into his fingers, ignoring the achy tingle, and reached out to grab a fist full of the covers and pull.
Nothing moved, but Enjolras made a small noise of protest in his sleep.
Grantaire pulled again. Nothing. Had Enjolras completely wrapped himself up in the blanket?
Grantaire pulled a final time, with all his strength. The blanket moved and Enjolras rolled over with it, letting out a soft “oof” as his sleep-warm body rolled into Grantaire’s freezing one. Grantaire tucked the blanket to cover his cold back and curled in, shivering, to leech some of Enjolras’ warmth. He reached out. Pluto reaching for the sun.
hey 👀 i posted something finally 👀 enjoy some e/R mid-winter fluff and smut
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Characters: Enjolras (Les Misérables), Combeferre (Les Misérables), Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Jean "Jehan" Prouvaire, Grantaire (Les Misérables), All of them ok, they're all here, Éponine Thénardier, Cosette Fauchelevent, Marius Pontmercy, Other Character Tags to Be Added
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Middle School, i've wanted to write this for so long, MIDDLE SCHOOL AMIS, Series of Oneshots, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Crack, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff and Humor, Attempt at Humor, Non-Binary Jean Prouvaire
Summary:
the les mis middle school AU no one asked for, but you got anyway
So I’m going to participate in the @bishopmyrielfundraiser to do something to help contribute to the Black Lives Matter protests going on in the form of writing fic in exchange for donations
I’m offering five 1-3k fics (and will most likely add more later) for $5 minimum donation per fic. I’ve got the most experience writing Les Mis (ExR specifically) but I can also write for any other Les Mis pairing, A:TLA, Percy Jackson, Star Wars, most Disney stuff, and Marvel; any pairing or prompt but nothing NSFW.
Reblog this with a screenshot of the date, time, and amount of your donation to any racial justice organization or bail fund to claim a slot. (If you don’t know where to donate, here is the link to split a donation between multiple bail funds and organizations and here’s a post with a very useful list of links) Within about a day of reblogging it, I’ll send you a message about the details. As far as or the next week or so I’m still “in” school and I’m going to be moving at some point in the next two months so depending on when you claim it, it’ll take a few weeks until it’s posted but i will give you updates until it’s posted.Or, if you’d prefer, you can private message me the screenshot as well as emailing it to [email protected].
Examples of my fics can be found at my ao3 account
i know i don’t post my writing on tumblr much anymore but! this fic has recently become my newest favorite thing so yeah! drum major enjolras, tenor sax grantaire, she-band-igans galore. click here to read :)
What modern les Mis AUs say: they were french. Long live baguette. What Modern les Mis AUs mean: they were french. They kept singing La Marseillaise. All the fucking time.
does the les mis fandom have any actually angsty fics or are we just living in complete denial or are we just numb thanks to the fact that our source is literally so dark
Wherein will be discussed the wedding prospects of Les Amis
aka my ficlet for @spinningyarns for the @drinkwithme-exchange! I’m a little rusty writing les mis but this was fun to write, I really hope you enjoy!!!
———————————
“I have just met Marius’ new hat and new coat, with Marius inside them,” Courfeyrac declared. The door to the back room swung open dramatically wide in front of him, emphasizing both his entrance and his statement. “He was going to pass an examination, no doubt. He looked utterly stupid.”
Alas, his grand entrance did not meet an audience deserving of its magnificence, for the evening was still young and the room nearly empty save one. But it seemed Lady Fortune had not abandoned him entirely, for that sole occupant was Prouvaire—who glanced up from his papers with gravitas befitting such a declaration. “An examination, you say! That may prove disastrous for our young friend. Surely you prevented a catastrophe?”
“My dearest Prouvaire, do not doubt that I tried my utmost to save Marius from his new hat and new coat,” Courfeyarc said, approaching Prouvaire’s table. “Only he refused to acknowledge me at all! Why, if I did not know the fellow, I would say he considered me beneath his new hat and new coat.”
“But then, how are you so certain he was going to sit an examination?” Prouvaire asked, leaning forward over the table.
Courfeyrac fell heavily into the seat across from his friend, with a dramatic throw of his hands. “What other folly could possibly make a man suddenly put on his new clothes on a nameless Thursday?”
“I’m afraid you’ve forgotten the simplest answer,” Prouvaire said with a smile. “Love, Courfeyrac. The man is in love.”
“Love!” Courfeyrac gasped. “Impossible! Surely I would know already if he were in love. Marius is not a man suited to keep such momentous secrets.”
“Well, we’ve all of us yet to be arrested,” Prouvaire said, shrugging his shoulders with a nonchalant ease that belied the grave weight of his words. “Evidently, he does know how to keep at least one momentous secret.”
“Now that is a different matter entirely,” Courfeyrac said, drawing away with a touch of hurt. “Come now, my friend, I know better than to bring around a man I would not trust with my own life.”
“Oh, pray do not misunderstand me,” Prouvraids said, reaching across the table to lay a gentle hand on Courfeyrac’s arm. “I certainly do not mistrust your judgment, especially in the valour and trustworthiness of a man. I merely wish to point out that you contradict your own assessment of Pontmercy.”
“Marius cannot be trusted to keep a single secret about matters of the heart,” Courfeyrac amended, “especially his own. He all but writes his emotions across his forehead in ink.”
“Ah, but that is simply passion that must make itself known!” Prouvaire declared, a dreamy sort of look falling over his gaze. “He has much of that, as he aptly demonstrated at his first—and to date only—meeting within these rooms.”
“Why, Citizen Prouvaire, my republican friend,” Courfeyrac said, gleefully emphasizing each word, “are you praising Marius for his exaltation of the Emperor himself?”
Prouvaire sniffed with a touch of disdain, or perhaps offense. “I am more than capable of admiring the heights of a man’s passion, while also despising the recipient of that passion. It takes a man of great courage and great conviction and great passion to make his case so valiantly. And in face of Enjolras and Combeferre both, no less!”
“A combination to be feared, to be sure,” Courfeyrac agreed easily. There was, after all, a good reason one was their leader and the latter his complement. “They were rather at top form that day, as well. Their best repartées in months, perhaps.”
“And yet Pontmercy did not flee! Even after Enjolras’s flawless retort. My mother is the republic, indeed.” Prouvaire let out a sigh of admiration. “That is a mark of passion, my friend. It will be a lucky woman indeed, she who is the target of his love.”
“Do not declare the case solved in such haste,” Courfeyrac insisted, rapping on the table with a half-closed fist. “I still maintain that he would have told me, were he truly in love. Or given himself away by some other sign, at the very least.”
“I do not doubt he would confide in you, should he suspect the inclinations of his own heart,” Prouvaire agreed easily. “Only it may be that he himself does not yet recognize it as love. How long has he been acting in such odd ways?”
“Depends by what measure you mean to ask. By the standards of the average man? For as long as I have known him.” Courfeyrac paused a moment to comb through his recollections. “By the strange standards of one Marius Pontmercy? Perhaps a day or two at most.”
“Et voila,” Prouvaire said, with all the satisfaction of a lawyer who has found the winning argument. “Our M. Pontmercy is in love, only he does not know it yet as love. Perhaps it is his first, even! Ah, but nothing can compare to the sweetness of such youth, such novelty. Who knows? If all goes as he wishes, perhaps we will see one of our friends married before some fateful day arrives for us all.”
Courfeyrac sat upright, aghast. “Come now! We have yet to confirm if love is indeed the cause for Marius’s strangeness, and here you are already pealing his wedding bells! And before anyone else, to boot. I am not certain if you give Marius too much credit or the rest of us not enough, but I am quite certain the credit is misplaced somewhere.” Here, he paused a moment to consider, then began to account for their friends one by one. “I grant we shall likely never see Enjolras marry — any more than he is already married to the Future of France itself, that is. Combeferre is too far like Enjolras in this matter, for all my best efforts. Though it is not only the great cause that claims his focus; rather, he is far too busy with all the rest that life has to offer to enjoy some of her sweetest fruits to the fullest, at least of yet. Grantaire, the poor fellow, struggles nearly as much to keep a woman as he does to pretend he does not wish to. Feuilly, alas, has certainly the heart and the passion to keep a woman well-pleased with ease, but not the means. Ah! But what of Joly and Bossuet and their Musichetta?”
Prouvaire smiled indulgently. “One of them would surely marry Musichetta—if only they could decide which of them is to marry her. I, for one, rather think Musichetta will sooner declare it all a bore not worth their endless debating. What matters of the official seal of marriage, when they all are radical revolutionaries intent on overthrowing that very government? Now, I admit Bahorel and his laughing mistress may save us yet from collective bachelorhood. But I suspect Bahorel cares too little for formality and detests the very hint of lawyers too much to ever wed properly.”
“You discount me so easily?” Courfeyrac said, a hand pressed to his heart with mock indignation.
“My dearest friend,” Prouvaire said, with a sweet sincerity that did nothing to dim the perceptive gleam of his eyes, “you are a little too fond of your mistresses, I think, to settle on one just yet.”
“You wound me, and yet I find I cannot deny the truth of your assessment,” Courfeyrac admitted rather easily. “Alright, so I am a lost cause—or at the very least a distant hope for the future. What of yourself?”
“I have borrowed of your problems, and some of Combeferre’s. That is to say, I am certainly not immune to the charms of a pretty grisette, but not yet particularly fond of one—and I have too many other companions to occupy my thoughts to truly keep a woman happy.” A somber mood descended rather suddenly upon him, as he added, “There is also the added matter of discretion. Friends of the future such as ourselves much take care with our close associates, lest we give away too much of our hearts and our secrets to the wrong person. In this matter Pontmercy is luckier than us, as he is not so deeply embedded in the inner workings. He has the liberty yet to be a little cavalier with his affections, and risk breaking nothing more than his own heart, precious as that is.”
Courfeyrac suppressed a frown, saddened by the sudden turn of his friend’s mood. He could not argue with the content of Prouvaire’s words, perhaps, but he could argue with their dark sentiments. Primarily by taking a deliberately light and carefree tone, as he declared, “Ah-ah! You simply must give me more time. I am certain I shall disabuse him of his Napoleonic heart and bring him around to our perspective someday. Have a little faith in me, and in him.”
Prouvaire met Courfeyrac’s eyes with a smile at once knowing and grateful. His tone was equally light as he answered, “I have the deepest of faith in you and your wiles, my dearest Courfeyrac. Pontmercy will not last forever under your assault. And a good thing for us all! It would be helpful, I think, to have all that passion on our side, when the day comes. He may yet prove an asset to France herself, and not just to the gilded altars of Love and Passion.”
