(for the headcanon meme) Les Amis all living in one big, communal house together
Initially one of their biggest concerns was food. Because it was going to be a house filled just with stress-addled, are-you-sure-I’m-technically-an-adult-are-you-sure college students with varying degrees of life skills and not a lot of money, so there was the general worry that food would just not happen and everyone would end up trying to subsist on chips and salsa and KD because no one would ever feel like cooking. As it turns out, cooking is a lot more fun when you can split the work with someone else and they actually now have the opposite problem. There is always, no matter what time it is, food being prepared or eaten. Always. Feuilly is the one that breaks in the new kitchen because he’s the most use to cooking for himself and now with the communal groceries there’s actually enough food (interesting food even) that he can really make something special. Feuilly is the go-to guy for good, basic, hearty food; he’s really good at spicing because good spice can make an otherwise sparse meal enjoyable. Musichetta and Courfeyrac are both absolute terrors because they grew up on burn-your-tongue-out-and-be-grateful-for-it levels of spice and some of the more wimpy eaters (see: Enjolras) approach their meals with great caution and large glasses of water. Jehan knows how to make more salads than anyone would imagine exist, and they’re somehow able to get even the pack of carnivores (Bahorel, Grantaire, and Éponine) to eat and enjoy their vegetables. On that note, it’s Joly who tries the hardest to make sure meals are balanced (at first he tried to get Combeferre on his side until he realized that the only thing Combeferre’s good at is home-made bread and would live off carbs alone if he was allowed). Grantaire is creative. He never uses recipes and has a hapharzard approach to dumping things in pans and pots that should equal disaster but actually has about a fifty-fifty chance of turning out amazing. Bahorel often has midnight baking sessions which mean cookies or cake or muffins available to breakfast the next day. Bossuet isn’t allowed to cross the threshold.
After a few months of bumping heads and forgetting to do things like buy more toilet paper and who was available which nights for clean-up duty, Feuilly and Combeferre go out and buy that paint-on blackboard stuff and cover an entire section of wall with it. Everything is written down on there, from shopping lists, to chore schedules (to people trying to negotiate their way out of the chore schedule), to friendly and not-so-friendly reminders (Enjolras and Grantaire generally have at least one on-going argument). Courfeyrac has a corner he reserves for a Joke Of The Day. Any free space will inevitably been drawn on by Grantaire. Marius is generally the one who, when the shopping list gets long enough, will finally go out and do the shopping, often accompanied by Cosette.
The books are ridiculous. Originally the plan was for everyone to keep their personal books in their room with maybe a few communal ones left in the living room but that soon proved to be a pipedream. Combeferre’s sheer number and inability to pass by a second hand book shop means his overflowed the bounds long ago. Grantaire and Jehan aren’t much better, the latter with volumes and volumes of poetry, and the former with everything from expensive art volumes to trashy, tattered sci-fi. As for Marius, he doesn’t have their volume, but he will dog-ear any book he’s reading (to the horror of many of his roommates), and Éponine leaves what she’s reading scattered where she dropped it, and Feuilly won’t read much at all if something isn’t left out that he won’t feel guilty about borrowing. So they devised a system where everyone gets a colour, and a little mark is drawn on the inside cover in that colour so that everyone can tell at a glance who the book belongs to while being able to keep them on communal bookshelves.
For many of the housemates, they have never been so fit. Grantaire and Bahorel would clear the living room or sliver of a backyard at least once a week for a sparring match, or yoga, or weight lifting, or whatever else fancies them. Slowly people just began gravitating to them. They started teaching Éponine how to box and she started showing them the dirty fighting moves she’d learn growing up. Cosette and Jehan and Joly started joining them for yoga. Combeferre was currently reading about the influence that various martial arts had in Japanese culture and joins them for a few sessions. Soon when the sound of couches being pushed aside can be heard almost everyone will come to join the work out. The dance instruction that Grantaier does sometimes is a particularly resounding success.
That all being said, the exam season is terrifying. The house becomes a war-zone. The halls are dead, with only the occasional, dazed student stumbling to find the coffee pot or a bowl of instant ramen. Curses and moans and cries can be heard. Courfeyrac once tried to set one of his law books on fire. Grantaire disappears for four days once and reappears covered in paint, collapses on the couch, and doesn’t move for another twelve hours. Enjolras is known to growl at people who are too loud near his bedroom. The people who finish earliest take up the duty of coffee and tea delivery services and providers of cuddles when the people with the latest exams need them. Tears are not judged.
send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons about it
So, it’s 1987, you’re a junior in high school, and Les Misérables has opened on Broadway. Everyone in Drama Club is incontinent with teenaged euphoria over this. You, however, are somewhat ambivalent, since your literature geek side and your theatre geek side have always been at odds. You read the condensed version of Hugo’s novel in 9th grade, and remember Eponine as being entirely unsympathetic, and yet here she is, shrieking over Marius, dying in his arms, and every girl wants to sing “On My Own” for her college auditions now.
And when you finally get to see it, it hits you that in this highly stylized version of a novel set during the Bourbon Restoration, YOU ARE EPONINE. Your Marius enjoys having you around, since you have pretty good taste in music, but you are not his Cosette. The anguish of it is enough for you to sit on your bed listening to the cassette version of the Original Broadway Cast recording on your Walkman, rewinding “On My Own” over and over again (although, truth be told, you really are NOT a fan of Frances Ruffelle‘s delivery) and dry-sobbing over the UNFAIRNESS OF IT ALL.
Many years later, you will come to understand that, sometimes, it is actually preferable to be Eponine (provided, obviously, that you don’t get shot on your way back to the barricade). Because then you get to be in a band with Marius and there’s no weirdness, because you were never his Cosette.
“As you like, but you shall not enter here. I’m not the daughter of a dog, since I’m the daughter of a wolf. There are six of you, what matters that to me? You are men. Well, I’m a woman. You don’t frighten me.”