#signedr

[signed-r]

FRIENDS: 

     does anyone want in on a very snazzy and super fun Les Mis RP chat? there are some really delightful people in search of other delightful people to write with. We’re looking for most characters! 

     here are some cuties who are still up for grabs: courf, bahorel, feuilly, cosette, marius, any patron minette (just to name a few!)

     we’d love to hear from you!! just shoot me a message for more information. 

[harriedwritings]

    // @signed-r // closed

The reason for Enjolras being employed at a bakery was thus: it was the only part-time profession with which he could engage without being intentionally or unintentionally goaded into grumbles and/or violences.

    The unfortunate reality of this, however, was that he frequently had to be at work for 5:00 in the gosh darned morning, which, rude. So, here he was, working hard with a smudge of flour on his nose, putting out fresh pastries for the consumption of customers.

        The door tinkled and a human appeared in front of him, and Enjolras did not pause in his placement of the brioche rolls, only said in his work-voice, “-- Good morning, take your time, let me know if you see anything you li--”

This self-interruption was due to the fact that he’d looked up by this point and stopped in his tracks, managing to scramble with the plate of brioche but ultimately not dropping it, though the call was close and the look on his face was very much ‘FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK’ as he struggled to stop the baked goods from hitting the ground.

In his defence, he hadn’t been expecting to see anyone he knew, let alone Grantaire.

As such, when he spoke, what he said was, “-- ...You saw nothing.”

[harriedwritings]

[ tuck ] (at enj bc I'm weak)

@signed-r // meme

He was not cold. He was not. cold.

Damnit, he was fucking freezing.

He hated camping. He’d always hated camping. He didn’t hate hate it quite as much as he hated injustice, but he certainly hated camping.

Whoever’s idea it had been to go camping was somebody that he...unfortunately could not begrudge, because people were laughing around the campfire, and he had to admit that it seemed like people were having a good time.

He was still fucking freezing, though.

Or he was, until a blanket found its home across his shoulders, and Enjolras turned startled eyes upward.

Grantaire had bestowed warmth upon him.

Without thinking, he solemnly intoned, “-- I love you and this blanket with all of my heart.”

[death-becomes-you]

[spoopyfane]

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[death-becomes-you]

"I'm so happy! Can I have a revolution too? Are those given out like party favors or what?"

[charming-butterrible-blog-blog]

signed-r:

The only thing more hopeless than the feeling in the pit of Grantaire’s stomach was the laugh that erupted from his throat. It was nervous and tense, and choked off at the end, like he had just remembered the situation wasn’t funny.

“Why?” he implored, crossing his arms as he eyed Enjolras’ bed. It was hardly big enough for two. And even if it were—this was Enjolras. Grantaire was tentative to pat Enjolras on the shoulder, much less sleep beside him.

"Because you seem tired and there's nowhere else I can offer you?" Enjolras cocks his head to the side slightly, confused my Grantaire's resistance. They weren't the closest of friends, sure, but he hadn't thought there was so much animosity between them that Grantaire couldn't bear sleeping next to him. His bed was small, sure, but two people could definitely fit. 

Enjolras scooches over and pats the bed beside him. "I don't steal blankets or kick or anything, if you're worried."

[spoopyfane]

Blanket Nest

Enjolras was exhausted. He'd been pushing himself too hard lately, between school and work and the Amis. He thought he could handle it, that he would be infallible, but as he fell asleep at the front desk of the parlor, unaware of the customer awkwardly trying to get his attention, Enjolras proved himself wrong. ssigned-r