#lesmis fic

[rinrobofiles]

Tribulations by @sltee >.< thank you for making me obssessed.. got some strawbers on my trip !!^_^🍓🍓

fic link !!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65733751/chapters/169282315 :3

[here-comes-the-finale]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

I made a thing.

[amarguerite]

Pilf wanted to know about 'Rational Fellowship'

Here's the fic if you were curious, and here's Pilf's very kind request: "I love these two being friends with each other, and always wanted to know more about your setup with them!"

I went with Musichetta! And using a lot of the discussions between MmeBahorel, 10littlebullets, Despard, Frederquie, TheHighestPie, MmeJavert, Cary et al on Abaisse, and all of the links provided in those discussions, I started trying to form a female character formed by the Saint-Simonism of the early 1830s. Rosalie is a lot of fun to write because most of the time she emphatically Does Not Give a Fuck about things. She does give Quite a Lot of Fucks about what interests her, and what interests her is very early feminism and politics. I have a headcanon that one of her ancestors was a fishwife who marched on Versailles. 

It was pretty important to me that Wollenstonecraft inform most of the discussion since, hey-o, Romanticism! I wanted to draw a credible picture of what it was like to be a working class woman in the 1830s and how one reacted to those limitations. With Rosalie there's frank acknowledgment-- both of the limitations of society and the groups kinda-sorta trying to alleviate it-- we have Musichetta's attempts to live within those confines with only a vague idea that they can be changed. 

Female friendships are also super rad and complicated and, I think, a little more interesting to read about than male friendships (just because fiction about male friendships is pretty common). People who just sort of connect about abstract concepts that effects all areas of their daily life and yet remain intangible are sort of my comfort zone when it comes to writing friendships. The strength of a shared ideal is really powerful. 

Also, I'm super pleased with this bit of dialogue just because it rather captured the tenor of dinnertime conversation at my college dorm (minus the usual complaints over classes and the ever-popular debate over DivaCups):

"You make republicanism sound like a venereal disease," protested Musichetta laughing. Rosalie let out a peal of bright laughter. “Oh do I? It rather is, isn’t it? Just as catching, just as dangerous, and it always calls your morality into question!"

(I think I should just include a general caveat that basically all my early fics had their genesis in research from Abaisse threads in 2009-2010. At the time the people writing in those threads were the ones reading my fics-- I wonder if I should go back and mention that in all my fics? I'm too anxiety safari to find the actual threads, though.)

[modernlesamisfics]

Chapter 12: A New Day, A New Friendship

Modern AU about Les Amis

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. Changes made with the story line and/or characters are all works of my imagination. Everything is fictional.

Enjolras

It was a quarter past 5 in the morning when Enjolras woke up. He went straight downstairs to check if Grantaire is already awake to make breakfast, just as he promised yesterday. But of course, he wasn’t expecting him to stay true to his promise — after all, this is Grantaire, and waking up early is just so un-Grantaire-ish.

True enough, he could see Grantaire fast asleep and snoring at the living room from the stairs. The smell of frying bacon startled him. He didn’t suspect that it would be Combeferre or Joly cooking. He knew that she is the one preparing breakfast for them, again. He suddenly felt his heartbeat turned faster. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, and try to move and act as casually as he possibly could.

He walked straight to the kitchen. Then he saw her: her back is turned on him as she was frying. She had her black sweatpants on, with black hoodie jacket. Her hair is pulled up in a loose bun above her head, just like yesterday when she had attacked him. He didn’t move; he just watched her in silence for a moment, deeply mesmerized at how tantalizing her figure is. After a few moment of silence, he sighed the breath that he didn’t notice he was holding.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said in a plain, casual tone.

Margaux was startled. She quickly turned around, eyes wide. She already had her thick black eyeliner and deep blood-red lipstick on. Her chalk-white cheek blushed slightly at the sight of him. “Good morning, Monsieur,” she said in a warm voice, though there was a trace of shiver in it. Then she turned her back on him, collected the cooked bacon from the pan and transferred it to a plate with paper towel on top. She turned to face him again, gave him a shy smile, and gently walked to the dining table to place the plate. “You’re up so early, sir,” she commented as she walked past him.

Enjolras couldn’t help but follow her with his gaze. “Not as early as you did,” he replied.

Margaux walked back to the kitchen. She faced him, smiled sweetly, gaining confidence this time, and said, “but you’re just in time for breakfast, Monsieur.” She opened the refrigerator and took some eggs. “How would you like your egg, sir?”

Enjolras felt uncomfortable at her formalities, but he tried to ignore it. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” he repeated. “You should not prepare breakfast for us. Or any meal for that matter.” He watched as she scrutinized him gently with those curious brown eyes. “I know you are not used to doing this,” he added.

Margaux grinned. “But I’d love to do this, sir,” she said, laughing shortly. Then she turned to turn on the stove and grease a fresh pan. “So how do you like your egg?”

Enjolras couldn’t help but smile at her persistent; but since she had her back on him, she couldn’t see it, which he was thankful for. “How do you like yours?” he asked in reply.

“Scrambled and rare,” she replied immediately. She turned to face him. “Yours?”

“Sunny side up and rare,” he said. Margaux smiled.

“Sunny side up and rare coming up!” she exclaimed, sounding so excited. Then she cracked the egg expertly on the pan, and began cooking. “Please, there are toast and bacon and fresh fruits on the table. Coffee and tea are also available. Help yourself, Monsieur.”

Enjolras didn’t move. He watched as she collected the egg, drained the remaining oil, and transferred it on a clean plate. “Margaux.” His voice sounded serious and hard, and he regretted it as soon as he said it, he wanted to pinch himself. He sounded angry when he said her name! Oh how could I be so stupid?

She faced him, her eyes were full of sadness this time. “I wanted to talk to you last night when I arrived,” she started, “but Joly said you went to sleep as soon as you arrived.” She walked to the table to place the plate with egg, Enjolras followed her. She turned to face him. “I want to apologize, Monsieur — for what had happened yesterday,” she continued. “I didn’t mean to attack you… nor to humiliate you, never.” Her eyes were filled with horror, remembering what happened. “I thought you were attacking Grantaire, you see. I saw you pinned him on the wall with your hands on his collar, and he was choking, and…” she trailed off.

“Let it be in the past,” Enjolras said silently.

“Monsieur?” Margaux whispered, unsure if she had heard him right.

Enjolras sighed. “I said, let what happened yesterday remain in the past. I mean… Let’s just forget about it,” he explained.

Margaux blushed. “Does that mean you’re forgiving me?”

Enjolras shrugged. “You had to do what you thought you had to do. He’s your friend,” he said, gesturing over the living room where Grantaire was sleeping, “and you just wanted to defend your friend. So I guess there is nothing to forgive, really. You didn’t do anything wrong, after all.”

He saw how her face transformed from sadness to a sudden joy. Her mouth stretched in a wide grin, white teeth showing. “Thank you, Monsieur,” she whispered happily.

Enjolras raised his hand, as if to stop her. “But in one condition,” he said. Margaux raised her eyebrows, listening intently.

“Anything that I can do, Monsieur, what is it?” she said.

“Make that two,” Enjolras answered. “One, call me Enjolras. I don’t like to hear a ‘sir’ or a ‘monsieur’.” Margaux smiled at this. “And two, could you pledge your loyalty to the fraternity?”

At this, Margaux instinctively threw her arms around him. Enjolras almost backed off, but he was too late as he was already wrapped in Mragaux’s tight embrace. “Becoming part of your group is the best thing that would ever happen to me here in Paris, Enjolras! And yes, I am pledging my loyalty!” Then she let go. Enjolras felt his face turned red.

Margaux dropped her eyes chastely. She gestured towards the table, embarrassed. “Breakfast?” Her voice is hesitant, yet hopeful.

“Only if you’d join me.”

She grinned again. “Gladly,” she replied, “but I’ll be quick… have to go for a jog after.” She winked and led the way to the table, and Enjolras followed, trying to hide his smile.

He couldn’t explain how he felt at that very moment — he knew that this new day marks the beginning of their newest friendship.