anna orestesfasting approved e/r fanfiction (but what that fuck does my approval mean anyway):

The Libation Bearer by kenaz - In which Grantaire is an unacceptable Pylades.
On the Trouble of Cynics, Mistresses, and the Rain by marlowe_tops - Grantaire wakes up in Enjolras’ bed and annoys him with rambling philosophy and cynicism. (NSFW)
The Golden Mean by KateAtTheClose - When Grantaire’s health makes it a necessity to cease drinking, Les Amis are there to help him through it. None more so than Enjolras, who starts to realize just how wrong he has been in his judgements of the other man. (Trigger Warning)
A View for the Future by theangrywarlock - After the 1832 barricades and his torture at the hands of the National Guard, Enjolras can slowly begin to recover. There are severe pitfalls along the way, from his friends’ reactions to his finding a foothold within this new world. Each chapter gives the viewpoint of a different Ami. (NSFW - really triggery content. This is the sequel to a fic I couldn’t get through bc of the subject.)

okay if that heterophobia post explodes as much as the shipping one i s2g

let’s make a few things clear here;

i am in NO way trying to make straight people the victim. that would be absurd and offensive. i am also NOT trying to imply that “heterophobic” actions even come near beginning to slightly approach the horrific extent that homophobic ones do.

the issue that i call “heterophobia” is the unfair generalization of heterosexuals, blaming them as a whole for the terrible things committed against queers, as well as the weird and idiotic “denial” of their legitimacy (believe it or not, i have seen the “i only accept gay love” shit going around, and it’s just as twisted and misinformed as only accepting “straight love.”)

heterosexuals are EQUAL to homosexuals, in the same way that all races and genders are. sadly not equal in social standing at this point, but rather INHERENTLY so. some straight people are going to be douches, and some are going to be fantastic. same goes for queer ones (though i personally see a lot more general positivity and sympathy in the queer community than the straight one—regardless, that doesn’t make non-heterosexuals automatically good, or heterosexuals automatically bad).

heterophobia is equally bad as homophobia NOT in its demonstration, but in its CONCEPT. it has not and probably never will approach the detestable extent of prejudice that homophobia has led to.

regardless, it is a “real thing.” or, if it’s not, then people should really stop portraying themselves as “heterophobic,” and especially doing so in a prideful manner. it’s just stupid.

to summarize: heterophobia is not a real issue in society. it does not impact our lives even remotely close to as much as the horrific thing that is homophobia. but, as a concept, it does exist, where it absolutely should not.

now let’s see if this even approaches the number of notes that the other one did.

(tagged for people whom i’d like to see this) and ps I AM NOT STRAIGHT AND PLEASE STOP MAKING STUPID ASSUMPTIONS

There’s no reason for the day, not really, just a bottle shared between them and the cigarettes that Sam doesn’t smoke, but he paid cash for them at the liquor store they stopped at just down the street from the bat cave. The sun is high in the sky and Dean’s being a fucking weirdo, at least, according to Sam, but then again everything Dean does is weird.

“You shouldn’t smoke,” he says, nuzzling the 5 o’clock shadow he has against the stubble on Sam’s cheek. ”Be smoking… The trials… They’ll, I don’t know, you’re fuckin’ immune system’s weak, ain’t it? Some kinda… fuck, I don’t know.”

Sam giggles. Yeah. Giggles. ”You’re not high, man, you’re drunk.” He pushes Dean away and his hand scrambles for purchase on the warmed hood of the Impala. They were already half drunk and it’s a beautiful day outside, where else were they supposed to sit?

“Yeah, but you’re still… you’re smoking? I…” He shrugs, and grabs another cigarette. ”You’re not even inhaling, are you, ya pussy.”

Sam shakes his head and lights the end of the stick as Dean inhales, blows the smoke into Sam’s face, and he blows his air right back with a grin.

“This is weird,” he says, grabbing a cigarette of his own until Dean pushes his hand down.

“Remember Utah?”

Fuck. Utah.

“Fuck. Utah.”

“C’mere, Sammy.”

“I was 15 and couldn’t-“

“-inhale for shit, so I taught you-“

“-and we ki-

“-ssed-“

and then they both stop for a second… they’re drunk.

And then they laugh, and it just feels so good because for these 20 seconds, Dean’s not worrying about Sam, and Sam’s not in pain, and they’re not worrying about each other or the monster of the week, they’re just laughing.

And then Dean’s kissing him, soft and rough at the same time and he tastes so much like Dean and so much like the whiskey and like the cigarettes. Then Dean pulls away, lets his finger trace the swell of Sam’s cheek as he inhales, and then pushes his lips against Sam’s.

The smoke in his mouth feels foreign, not nice like Dean, but Dean’s lips are still against his and he’s certain that he’s melting, until Dean smiles against his skin and wraps his arms around him.

“Utah, Sammy, just like this.”

Sam lets his forehead rest against his brother’s.

“Utah. Well, now it’s… fuck, it’s here. It’s home.”

there’s nothing quite like the bond of crying over being broke and wanting chinese

just promise me we'll be alright

The water swirls with red where he steps, blood spiralling out around him into the waves. Patroclus watches silently from the shallows, the wind catching in his hair and his tunic, stained dark and wet from the men he’s been treating.

There is so much blood surrounding them that sometimes Achilles wonders how they aren’t drowning in it.

just a game.

“It’s just a stupid game,” Patroclus says, ever patient, leaning his body into Achilles’ and playing with the cup in his hands. Achilles makes a disapproving noise, similar to the one he makes when Patroclus tries to get him to study instead of watching yet another bad cop drama on TV. Across the room, most of the rest of the party are carrying on with the seven minutes in heaven that some drunken kid suggested. Achilles, already slightly tipsy, had agreed enthusiastically and dragged Patroclus along with him, only to fall into a carefully controlled tantrum when Briseis, a sweet, ballsy girl in their chemistry class, picked Patroclus’ name out of the punch bowl making-do for a hat. ”We didn’t even do anything, Achilles - stop sulking.”

sunjolras replied your post tw: fanon jehan

i can taste the femmephobia

not really (i mean femmephobes against femme jehan exist but) these people are the annoying “it’s offensive to interpret jehan as feminine just because he likes gardening and poetry and it’s most progressive to have his be masculine” lol … no sorry that’s not “more progressive”

punk-raunchy replied to your post: darrenchris replied to your post: enjolras is…

im going to cry

sunjolras replied your post darrenchris replied to your post: enjolras is not responsible for grantaire or his

cut that shit out

darrenchris replied your post darrenchris replied to your post: enjolras is not responsible for grantaire or his

Enjolras sitting up all night with him on nights all he wants to do is relapse Im gonna !!!!!!!!!

enjolras rubbing his back while he retches and bringing him water and holding his hair back when he can’t keep it down and sleeping on the couch so grantaire has space to breathe without really being alone (✿◠‿◠) enjolras being respectful of grantaire’s recovery and not using it as an opening enjolras wanting grantaire to be healthy for himself and no one else because grantaire is unlimited potential and so good he doesn’t want to change who grantaire is at his core he just wants him to realize he is more than what the alcohol makes him oh no it’s happening again