#tomopen

[theleaderpaintedred]

The Not so Active Activist// Open

Enjolras hadn't planned a meeting in a week.  Ever since his fighitng with, well, everyone and the big.. incident at home, he just hasn't been up to being around his friends.  At all.  He can tell they don't want to deal with his shit well, he doesn't want to deal with their shit either.  He loves his friends but they don't necesarily like to be around him, yeah: he's noticed, and it's rubbing him the wrong way.  So he fucks up, yells at them, it gets worse- oh fucking well.  He knows he has issues, he knows he's "hard to handle" (fucking psychiartrist); just stop fucking bringing up shit or insulting him and he wouldn't be so fucking vicious!

[theleaderpaintedred]

It's Always Sunny in Paris// Open

Enjolras wasn't a patient man, nor was he a kind one. In fact, he was a horrible person most of the time. He's been in jail for breaking and entering government buildings and assault of police officers. He's spit on politician's faces and mocked homophobes by undressing in front of them in public (he was also arrested and fined for public indecency). He has vandalised property and screamed in people's faces so loudly they began to sob on spot. And that's why he got stuck in a public group for anger management, having to share his feelings, and trying not to murder someone or get triggered. It wasn't working.

[candlesticksandbread-blog]

An Old Fox// Open

Jean Valjean was an old man.  Well, an old fox hybrid- but that's beside the point.  He was a tame man, though he could be sly, and a gentle soul- regardless of what others (Javert) may say about him.  He cared for others, shown by his compassionate soul.  At first glance, he seemed a bit intimidating: large scars across his face and through his fur; his large fox eyes a shimmering and delightful green; his bushy tail which liked to twitch and sway as he walked, giving a false illusion of agitation.  No one would think he was a kind adoptive father and a kindly religious sort, evidenced by his revered mentor, the Bishop, and his treasured candlesticks.

As stated before, however, he seemed intimidating.  Doubled with his wealth and influence, he was a threatening figure.  "A sly fox", most would say.  He had money- though most failed to notice him giving his wealth away from his very pockets with a fatherly smile.  He had no use for his wealth but to better the lives around him (and to spoil his darling Cosette).  As he walked down the busy Parisian street, he whistled a merry tune and swung his walking cane through the air.  He ignored the people who moved across the street to avoid him and the whispering gossips watching him from within the shops; he merely believed them to be going throughout their day, as he was.

[theskeptic]

Coffee Grounds ||OPEN||

Grantaire had never worked in a coffee shop before. He’d never made coffee for anyone besides himself and his friends before, and there was nothing special about that. His new job had complicated machinery that he’d never be able to remember the names of.

Naturally, he thought he’d be terrible at the job and get fired on his second day. However, it turned out he was a natural. His coffee always came out impeccable, and his charming personality ensured good tips from patrons. Plus, he was great at decorative coffee art. He was finding that he actually enjoyed his new job.

He was closing up tonight, his co-worker leaving him to do it alone as she had to leave early. There were ten minutes left to closing when the bell chimed at the door, announcing the entrance of a customer.

[theleaderpaintedred]

The Job Interview From Hell (or beyond) //Open

Stepping out of the building, fake smile twitching on his face, Enjolras stiffly walks away from the law firm and tugs his suit jacket off.  It's about finding a job, Enjolras.  It doesn't matter where or when or how (just not Walmart or Starbucks or Sams because fuck that).  He keeps repeating the mantra in his head.  Though, he must say, being borderline sexually harassed by his female possible-boss didn't exactly help matters.  Especially if he gets hired (which he's sure he will if only if she can keep harassing him).

"Fucking Hell, I'm going to hate it there."  He could taste the revulsion in his mouth as he continued his stiff walk into the Musain.  That lady had touched his everything one too many times.

[theskeptic]

Painting Space //Open//

When Grantaire painted, it was like he was in another world. He paid attention to nothing around him. It was just him and his supplies, creating something new and beautiful. He didn't think that his paintings were anything special, but he loved his creations. So what if no one else did? He didn't paint for other people, he painted for himself. 

Most of the time, he elected to paint in his apartment. But now he lived with Enjolras, and the fear of him disliking whatever it was R painted drove him to find a new place to paint. He'd tried the park, but while it was a good location to sketch, it just wasn't right for painting. 

That's how Grantaire wound up at painting in a tiny, cramped studio on school property. He hardly ever showed up for classes, if he had he probably would have known of it's existence much sooner. He held the tip of his paintbrush between his teeth and ran his fingers through his hair, leaving colorful streaks behind, observing his painting so far. R was so involved in his painting that he'd forgotten to close the door, leaving it open to anyone who happened to walk by.

[theleaderpaintedred]

A Day by the Pool (Who Likes This Shit) //open

Enjolras hates things deeply and soundly. He hates Capitistic government and regimes. He hates when his boyfriend is being an asshole and closed off. He hates Montparnasse and that his two close friends are dating the asshole. He hates pigeons and blue M&Ms. Point is, Enjolras is an angry person who hates many things. And is a workaholic who is unemployed. Who is being forced to relax. And pissed off anyone who could possibly deal with his whining that isn't in his immediate group of codependent family assholes. Therefore, he finds himself relegated to the pool where he's supposed to burn off energy and tan or some shit like that but none of that matters because it isn't helping the world or studying. Priorities, seriously.  His body ain't half bad to look at, however.

[theskeptic]

Paint the Town Red || Open ||

Grantaire didn't play on the safe side. He'd learned when he was younger that playing it safe made you a pushover. It allowed for people to take advantage of you. Once upon a time, Grantaire would have let absolutely anyone walk all over him. Not anymore.

Now he did what others were too scared to do. He stood before a brick wall standing about a head taller than he. It had once been part of a building, but it had collapsed, the rubble still left uncleared. People had probably died in that collapse. He shuddered and pushed the thought from his mind.

He tied a bandanna over his face, covering his nose and mouth, before taking out one of the canisters of spray paint he had in his bag. He began painting a portrait of a better world, so much like ones he'd painted before. He got so caught up in his mural that he lost track of everything around him.