les mis rp


❝ in all thénardier’s outpourings, the words and gestures, the FURY blazing in his eyes, this explosion of an evil nature brazenly EXPOSED, the mixture of bravado and abjectness, arrogance, pettiness, RAGE, absurdity; the hodgepodge of genuine distress, and lying sentiment, the shamelessness of a vicious man rejoicing in viciousness, the bare crudity of an ugly soul —— in this eruption of all suffering and hatred there was something which was hideous as EVIL ITSELF and still as poignant as truth. ❞ —— VICTOR HUGO


Enjolras with dyed hair
Like not like he dyes his hair blond like
What if he dyed his hair and just didn’t tell anybody
Like he’s so sick of people touching his hair and gawking at his good looks and so he’s just
Bought hair dye and shows up one day with brown hair
And he fucking loves it

Open R | Cannon Au

“It doesn’t really matter anymore now does it? This never really meant anything to either of us, it was just fun- something to help us forget the shit we were going through. You have them for that now.” Eponine tried to smile as if it didn’t faze her but it did. Without them she’d be alone again. She had to remind herself that her feelings weren’t important in this situation.

Originally posted by p0rth0s

Calling Les Mis Fans!

Hey y’all!

Do you like pretending to be modern day versions of fictional revolutionaries written by Victor Hugo in 1862?

I know I sure do. *wink*

Anyways here’s what’s up.

I’m really interested in creating a Les Amis ask type/modern rp kinda blog and I was just wondering if anyone would be interested in taking part. You would have to audition for the characters and unfortunately Courfeyrac and Bahorel are already taken (Sorry…) But thank God there are so many other beautiful and wonderful revolutionaries for you to choose from! Anyways, as I said before, it will be a mixture of an ask blog and a modern rp where everyone interacts with one another through their own different blogs and answers asks from both other members and outsiders.

Anyways, I’m really excited about it all and if reading this has gotten you excited or even mildly intrigued, shoot me a message on this account and I would love to talk about making this a reality!

- Shawn <3


Enjolras was beginning to doubt that he was convincing anyone anymore. He had practically stopped selling himself and instead found he was spending as much time with him as possible.
Enjolras was still not ready to admit his feelings, though with the way he was acting he didn’t have to say anything. This was especially evident as Enjolras bounced into his apartment and wrapped his arms around him “miss me?” He asked, unable to keep the grin off of his face.

    Hatred twisted the heart in the same way relentless, frigid wind wilted and eventually withered the rose. Angry and ceaseless, it stopped at nothing until it ensured that any life that once was, was no more. Valjean was that rose — in Faverolles he was kind and courteous, thorny when provoked — but Toulon; that was the wind — the bitter, cruel, howling wind that whipped up from the shore of the Mediterranean sea. For nineteen years he had been battered by nothing but the merciless lashes, glares from guards, and the ever-prevalent threats of what happened to the weak men in the Bagne.

    Yet, despite this, was it still possible for the rose to flourish once more? Weather by the gentle hand of the florist, or that of God? Upon encountering the Bishop in the little mountaintop town of Digne, it had sent Valjean into many weeks of heavy pondering. As he travelled, the stolen silver on his back heavier than he knew it was, a great change had taken place within him. It was no miracle, it seemed, by any stretch — left and right, he was refused from inns, even brothels. No place wanted a convict staying amongst good citizens.

    As Valjean walked from Digne to Pontarlier — not a short distance, by any means — night began to fall. When it was dark in the mountainous region of France, the goings were treacherous. One could easily slip and fall to one’s death. Though, it was not as though that wouldn’t have been preferable to the man. However, he had a commitment to honour, and dying was not part of it. Luckily, he was greeted by a small house on the side of the road, illuminated with a few lights at the windows. Hoping the darkness would work in his favour to obscure his grotesque features, he went up to the door and knocked.

    A room for the night? Valjean asked in his gravelly voice, roughened by the salt water and hard labour. I have money I can pay, m'sieur. Just one night is all I ask, or else I’ll die out ‘ere. Upon hearing no answer, the haggard man knocked again, with more volume, the anger and hatred for humanity building up inside him once more.

M*rde! || Open Starter

Constance let out a long sigh, staring at the pregnancy test she was holding in her hands. The white plastic and its two blue lines, way too bright for her liking, were taunting her shamelessly. However she couldn’t take her blue eyes out of this blatant proof of her stupidity .The prospect of being a mother and raising a child had never crossed her mind. Even when she was a little girl she had never find any interests in playing with inanimate dolls and pretending she was their mom.

She threw the dreadful test  against a beige painted wall, relishing the sight of the million pieces on the wooden floor and she pulled  her phone out of her dark jeans’ pocket. She tapped on her mobile screen as fast as she could, pervading  all the rage which was boiling in her vein into the her threatening words.

[Text] You better stop avoiding me and come here in a heartbeat.

Indeed Constance had already heard the pathetic stories of the foolish girls whom got pregnant after a drunken hookup but she had never thought it might happen to her. She took her pills everyday how could this happen to her ? She glared at the plane belly and brushed against it with her hand.

« I am screwed… » She whispered holding back her salty tears.

foster home au {scxptique}

Enjolras wasn’t supposed to be in system. He wouldn’t be, if his parents hadn’t been stupid to get in a freaking boat that ended up sinking just two years ago. And then his whole life turned around; no family to take care of him, only foster home, then juvie, then foster home again. This was his third so far, and Enjolras was getting tired, but there was no way he was going to get himself emancipated after everything he done. So as his new foster family showed him the room where their kids slept, foster or otherwise, Enjolras didn’t want to get too comfortable. Anyway, he was seventeen, about to get out of there. It was just temporary, before he could get himself free of social workers, and could finally get a job, enroll in community college, do what was right for him.

It was only when their real kid came home (late, for whatever reason) and gave him that look that Enjolras realised how fast he was about to get kicked out. But maybe he had just imagined it. Probably. He sighed, and was told to get himself comfortable, the mother giving the other boy a small lecture as he brushed his teeth, and said boy stripping to his boxers as preparation to get to bed as Enjolras read something he had grabbed from the living room before going to sleep. “I’m Enjolras, in case you’re wondering.” he murmured. Yeah, definitely imagined it.

Hero of War || Open

Jehan always thoguht fighting for your country was a good thing. A way to become a hero, to earn a spot in heaven.. To make your country proud, show your love for it off… And so, when all hell broke lose in northen India, and France decided to interfere, Jehan had quit his studies and signed up, together with a whole bunch of his friends. To his disappointment, they weren’t placed in the same groups. He, instead, was placed in a group where he didnt'know everybody, where he felt a little left out, even… They didn’t have a special task, they were just soldiers, like so many others were.

On that one day, the day Jehan would never forget, never in his entire life, he and his squad were supposed to guard a little village that- after they had attacked and taken it and now was occupied by pregant woman, old and sick people and children, mostly-  had become their base. Jehan sat in the back of the truck, not liking the way the others were behaving right now- as if this was a joke. As if they had forgotten about the four men shot last week during this exact same routine. He hadn’t ,and he was eying the surroundings with eyes like a hawk. Of course, that didn’t mean he had eyes on the front, and so he didn’t see it coming when- well, when even more hell broke lose.

Later, he was told, a bomb had gone off, right underneith the front of the truck. He had been sent flying, his right leg blown off right away, his left burned badly, like some parts of the rest of his body as well. He felt as if he was in a dreamworld, gasping for air as smoke and sirens filled the sky around him… It felt as if it was years later, when he felt somebody call his name, and he just barely managed to open up his eyes, trying to say something, to apologize, but failing miserably.