sarcasm always wins out in the end

Happy revolution to all who celebrate, and those of you who do not - why not?

Anyway, I have updated my Les Misérables AU that is really about how I am deeply angry about Brexit, and also about Tories. This current chapter is 4th our of 5 - the final one is mostly done already, and I expect to finish it within a few weeks. Then on to the sequel with Eponine and Combeferre.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2825402/chapters/98724297

Today is my birthday; I was hoping to post a fic but unemployment and academic stress have made that plan undoable. I do, however, have a deleted scene from my current WIP, which I've decided to cut from the story because other things need to happen, but which amuses me too much for me to destroy it entirely.

This is the story it's from (Les Miserables, Enjolras/Grantaire, modern British AU), but you don't actually need to read that to get this.

Then his phone rings, and ruins everything.

The things with phones is that now that we have emails and texting, there is really no reason to ever call anyone. The only people who call Grantaire are British Gas, who seem to think that he owns his own boiler and wants to buy a winter cover for it, and his mother, who likes to chat. British Gas called last week, and his mother four days ago. He’s not due another ring for days.

He looks at the phone, which is resting on the kitchen table – too far for him to see who’s calling. It’s probably a wrong number, or someone selling PPI. He could easily ignore it.

But Grantaire is having a good day, and so he finds himself picking up a phone, and giving himself the second heart-attack of the day, because the caller is Enjolras.

Definitely should have ignored it. But then there would be the anxiety over calling him back to ask what he wanted.

Grantaire answers.

“Hello?”

A short silence, and noises of shuffling.

“Hello, Grantaire?”

“Yes, hello?”

“Hello, it’s Enjolras.”

“Hello.”

Well, you can’t argue that they are not at least part British; they’ve definitely got the awkward hellos part down. In the silence which follows, Grantaire starts a bet with himself over whether Enjolras is going to say another hello. ( Read more... )

I have written another chapter of Hunger Hurts. It only took eight months.

The next one will probably (hopefully) take less.

http://archiveofourown.org/works/2825402

In honour of the (failed) revolution of June 1832, I did a thing.

Beyond (Along, Above, Behind) the Barricade

Enjolras/Grantaire, 1600 words, post-canon.

Enjolras does not regret the manner of his death. Nor does he regret sharing it with Grantaire – an unlooked-for companion, but one whose hand had created a sweetness in his last moment that Enjolras had not expected. Grantaire, unexpectedly brave but not unexpectedly kind, had stood with him when he faced the enemy. It is reasonable, Enjolras reminds himself, it is just, that he should stand with him in the afterlife.

But Grantaire in the afterlife is much like Grantaire in life; full of words but rarely filled with sense. Keen, above all, to provoke Enjolras.

So! I posted a fic yesterday. Or at least, a part of a fic. The rest will come later.

I've been writing this story for about a year now - I remember starting it last Christmas, with the idea of writing something short and quick, and happy, where Grantaire gets what he wants (a deep dicking from Enjolras, that is). What I've actually produced is the first chapter of a 50000-word fic, where Grantaire is miserable and drinks too much and has too many feelings. But he will get the deep dicking in the end! And in the mean time, there's a pub quiz.

Title: Hunger Hurts But Starving Works
Fandom: Les Misérables
Pairing: Enjolras/Grantaire
Summary: Modern British AU, where Les Amis are all thirty-something professionals in London, who attend a weekly pub quiz and complain about British politics.

I have made a fic. It's about dead French revolutionaries, except I made it so that they don't die, on account of how I don't want them to.

Title: in dreams begin responsibilities
Pairing: Enjolras/Grantaire
Rating: R
Words: 10300
Warnings: Marius dies, so that everyone else may live. Gavroche gets slapped in the face, also so that everyone else may live.
Summary: Their discussions are not always about the things they discuss.

In news: I have finished my Masters (Distinction, yay), lived through a temporary job involving light (but nevertheless too heavy for my crippled body) manual work, and am currently both job-hunting and trying not to succumb to despair. Neither of these is going terribly well, but I persist.

In other, considerably more interesting news, I have succumbed to a new fandom: Victor Hugo's Les Miserables and its associated adaptations, and specifically, Les Amis de ABC, that is, the revolutionary boys. This will not be news to anyone who follows me on twitter, where I can be found bemoaning the lack of good Enjolras/Grantaire fic every night. I have even started reading the book, and continued to read the book even though it is terrible. Seriously, don't read this book. There is one mildly amusing line about Marius having passionate nostrils, and everything else is boring and sentimental and oh so miserable. Except for the revolutionary boys, of course, but they seem to account for about 200 pages out of 2500.

The thing about the revolutionary boys, though, and the reason why my brain keeps coming up with new ways to mush them together, is that Enjolras, who is cold and clever and beautiful and only concerned with justice, is taunted and teased in debate by Grantaire, a cynic and the group drunkard*, who nevertheless loves Enjolras like Patroclus loved Achilles and like Hephaistion loved Alexander (these are comparisons offered by Hugo). There is canonical pining and bickering, and the potential which this offers for fiction is immense, especially considering that in the novel everyone dies horribly, so we really need to fix that.

They make me want to write things, and I don't remember the last time a fandom lit up my brain this much. I want write canon-era fic about how Enjolras knows how Grantaire feels about him, but doesn't do anything about because it would be an indulgence and he doesn't hold with those. Except once, before their final fight, he intimates this to Grantaire, who grows angry and pushes him against a wall (because why not) and says: 'I might have been content to die for you when there was no hope of anything more, but now? Nobody is dying until I've had you on every surface of this room! Let me tell you about the secret tunnels!' And Enjolras is bemused and a bit flustered, and not quote sure whether this is scarier than dying a revolutionary death. Or a modern-day fic, where they're all in their thirties and Enjolras comes back to Paris after working in Brussels for a few years, and meets Grantaire for the first time since university. There are mutual friends and adult socialising, and perhaps some mild banter and Enjolras noticing Grantaire wine-dark mouth a bit too often. But then Grantaire makes an appreciative and slightly explicit comment about Enjolras, who explodes with 'why are you still taunting me? We are not children anymore, surely you should be above mocking me for my chaste ways?' And Grantaire, astonished and quiet, replies that he is not mocking him, and that every expressed wish to enjoy Enjolras has been in earnest. Then Enjolras gapes and everybody else looks awkward, and starts leaving the room while Grantaire steps closer (and possibly pushes Enjolras against a wall, it is possible I have a thing). Or then maybe one where Enjolras is not used to being touched at all, and Grantaire notices this and begins to surreptitiously lay his hands, quite innocently, on various parts of Enjolras. Who doesn't move away, only stills for a moment, and then carries on as if nothing was happening, as if he wasn't getting more and more addicted to it. Enjolras holding himself off from all things physical and pleasurable, because such things ought not be prioritised when there is injustice to combat, but also paying increasing amounts of attention to Grantaire's hands and mouth and movements and everything. And getting grumpy about it. And then Grantaire noticing all this.

In short, there is glorious potential for fic in this fandom, but not a lot of fic, so you should all come write some with me. Please leave prompts, thoughts, and illustrative porn below.


*I was trying to explain this to _emeraldgreen with 'and there's Grantaire, he's the group drunkard'. She asked 'there's a group drunkard?', to which I replied 'there's always a group drunkard!', and then realised that it's quite possible I am the group drunkard in any group to which I belong. ANYWAY.