(I know it’s already been done, but I haven’t tried writing it yet and I thought it might be fun.)
Feuilly gets slightly worried when the words ‘You wanna go, punk?’ appear on his forearm in dainty cursive. Bahorel, on the other hand, spends slightly too much time making meaningful eye contact with attractive strangers in public because the words 'What’re you looking at?’ are written across his skin in a neat, rounded handwriting.
Enjolras is slightly skeptical when the words 'Courfeyrac didn’t mention that you were hot’ appear across his ribcage in messy cursive. But when he meets Grantaire for the first time, he says one word: 'Welcome.’ The same word that’s written in tiny, neat letters across Grantaire’s heart.
Combeferre gets extremely worried by the phrase 'It’s literally going to kill me!’ which appears on his skin. Courfeyrac, who’s terrified of insects, has the words 'It’s a moth, Courfeyrac. It’s harmless,’ across his wrist.
Sure enough, when they first meet, Combeferre is at Courfeyrac’s apartment for a meeting of the Amis (before they settle on the Musain as their regular meeting place) and Courf is having a mild panic attack because there’s a tiny little moth in his kitchen.
Musichetta, Joly, and Bossuet all have two different phrases.
Musichetta has the words 'Pardon me, Mademoiselle, but I think I’m lost…’ in Bossuet’s handwriting curling around the side of her waist and Bossuet has the phrase 'Maybe I can help you?’ printed on his arm.
Joly, of course, gets extremely worried when the words 'Are you alright, Monsieur?’ appear on his upper arm, and the response- 'I think so. I mean, I don’t think I have Lupus. Probably. Yet. But I’m not sure,’ is written in Joly’s messy handwriting over one of Musichetta’s shoulder blades.
And Bossuet’s second phrase is 'You come here often, then?’ The person who asks the question is the adorable medical student who deals with him in the ER at three o'clock in the morning. Joly has the words 'Well, it’s the third time this week…’ along his collarbone.
Jehan has a phrase along his collarbone as well: 'Depends who’s asking, doesn’t it?’ He spends a lot of time wondering what sort of person his soulmate is, because to be frank, they sounds a bit sketchy.
But Montparnasse has seven small, neat words written across his heart as well: 'Oh! Your name is Montparnasse, isn’t it?’
I was wondering if you could give a lowdown on les Amis characters and help with some fandom terms as well because I just discovered les Mis on TUMBLR and I need help! X happy new year
Oh of course!! I’m honored that you asked me, wow! c; I’ll try my hardest.
So, Les Amis is composed of these dweebs. Enjolras, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Jean “Jehan” Prouvaire, Lesgles (also called Bossuet, Lesgle,
L'Aigle de Meaux, and Legle), Joly, Bahorel, Feuilly, and Grantaire.
Enjolras is the chief, and he’s devoted to France and the revolution.
Combeferre is the guide, logical, and he believes that there is good in every person. It’s pretty widely accepted in the fandom that he has glasses and is obsessed with moths.
Courfeyrac, who is the centre of Les Amis, is the ball of sunshine and warmth. He’s kind of like the glue that holds them all together.
Jean Prouvaire, most often called Jehan, is a poet. He loves without restraint and blushes for no reason at all. (He must be protected at all times)
Lesgles (this is what I call him, most people in the fandom call him “Bossuet”) is the unluckiest member of Les Amis, something that the fandom certainly ran with. He’s also Joly’s other half.
Joly is a med student, also a hypochondriac, and Lesgles’ other half. In the Brick (the book “Les Miserables”) it is said that he has a cane, so parts of the fandom have translated that as he has a bad leg or even a prosthetic leg. (This is not a view everyone holds, some people think the cane is simply for dress).
Bahorel is big and tough and not a lawyer. (Literally I just assumed he was a lawyer for the first few months I was in the fandom)
Feuilly is a Polish orphan (my sweet child) and in the fandom, he’s always working. Not that he’s a workaholic, but he’s poor and refuses to let himself be a burden on any of his friends.
Finally, Grantaire. On the surface, he’s a cynic and a drunkard who obsessed over Enjolras far too much. But he’s so much deeper, I promise you. He’s an artist, and some parts of the fandom acknowledge him as a dancer and boxer (although I think that’s canon, I can’t remember at the moment).
If you want to know more, I can try to offer more, or I could also direct you to @just-french-me-up (she is the queen of the Les Mis fandom with far more knowledge than me). I hope this is a good start, though! Welcome to this amazing fandom!! :) Have a wonderful day and a happy New Year, lovely anon!
Can you please write about grantaire helping people sleep? Like it sounds super duper weird I know but I love the image of grantaire cuddling enj to sleep or reading to courfeyrac while there's a storm out or making up stories for his kids or playing with jehan's hair IDK MAN I JUST LOVE GRANTAIRE ???
That’s an adorable idea, actually!
He has the most messed up sleep schedule anyway, so if anyone needs help falling asleep, ‘Taire is the guy to call.
Courf is very a little bit scared of storms, and when Combeferre had a late shift at the hospital, Grantaire goes over to read to him and take his mind off it, until he manages to fall asleep.
Enjolras gets stressed about schoolwork and activism and so forth, and stays up waaaaaay too late. Grantaire usually has to pick him up, and carry him to bed, and Enjolras makes a couple soft protests and then leans against him. ‘Taire wraps his arms around him and cuddles him, and Enjolras mutters about capitalism and dissertations for a minute or two, and then falls asleep in Grantaire’s arms with a contented little smile on his face.
Whenever Combeferre is sick and can’t sleep, he makes Grantaire sing the Soft Kitty song from the Big Bang Theory, because he loves the show and made 'Taire watch an episode with him.
Bahorel usually makes Grantaire binge watch Say Yes to the Dress with him until it’s three A.M. when he can’t sleep.
Whenever Joly is being a hypochondriac at one in the morning, Grantaire is there to make him a cup of chamomile tea and assure him that he probably doesn’t have typhus, and when Bossuet can’t sleep, Grantaire sits with him, sketching and talking quietly.
Feuilly, like Enjolras, doesn’t get enough sleep, and Grantaire usually calls him if he’s working overtime to tell him to go home right away as soon as he can and get some f***ing sleep. Feuilly rolls his eyes and retorts with yes, Mum.
And Grantaire plays with Jehan’s hair and talks to them quietly when they can’t sleep because they’re upset or heartbroken.
And when he adopts a daughter with Enjolras, he stays up with her when Enjolras is busy and tells her stories- at first, they’re just feelings of Greek and Roman myths, but then she asks for one with her in it, and now whenever she can’t sleep, he tells her stories about the clever, brave little daughter of Apollo and Dionysus.
Whenever Enjolras gets sick, he denies it as long as possible and tries to tough it out. Eventually, Grantaire gets tired of watching him struggle, and picks him up and carries him to bed.
Despite this, Enjolras tries to keep working from his room, and winds up falling asleep with his head resting on the keyboard of his laptop.
When Grantaire gets sick, Enjolras gets extremely worried, and fusses over him, despite Grantaire’s insistence that ‘Joly was 85% certain that it’s not consumption.’
Courfeyrac is slightly melodramatic when he’s sick, and he disappears under a giant mound of comforters and blankets. He also demands cuddles from Combeferre, who’s happy to oblige.
Combeferre is pretty easy to deal with, as long as he has a constant supply of tea. Courfeyrac tells him awful jokes to try to cheer him up.
Feuilly will show up to work, unless he’s running a world-record breaking fever or has come down with the bubonic plague. Eventually, though, he’ll give in and stay home for the shortest amount of time possible.
Bahorel uses being sick as an excuse not to show up for law school and instead to watch reality TV all day. This leads to Feuilly glaring at him and saying, “If you say ‘Bible’ one more time, I’m going to…”
Bossuet always catches whatever’s going around. Joly has a tendency to overreact, and keeps sending him messages reminding him to stay warm, and hydrated, and take his medecine, and so on and so forth.
When Joly gets sick, he takes it better than expected, and manages to take care of himself properly. He’s worried that Musichetta and Bossuet will catch whatever he’s got, but they spend as much time as possible taking care of him and cuddling him.
And when Jehan gets sick, he ends up shivering and slightly dazed. He’s content to stay in bed, provided he has a book to read.
“So then the lady who moved into his room downstairs started hanging crucifixes everywhere and praying aggressively.”
“I felt very unwelcome.”
“So he haunted the stairwell for a few months–”
“–I slept a lot, really–”
“–until I moved in, and I gather he thought I looked like a good person to haunt, you know, a fellow student.”
“And you possess a high degree of animal magnetism.”
“Er. And I possess a high degree of animal magnetism.”
Combeferre turned his spectacles over and over in his hands. He could not see the source of one of the voices that was talking to him. Lesgle–Bossuet, they had joked happily about the name–assured him that that was normal, that he couldn’t see Joly either except for occasional glimmers in a mirror. But Combeferre found it difficult to take this as calmly as he did. (He had ruled out tricks like throwing voices or accomplices in the next room. That would not explain the way the bed periodically shifted by itself, the sheet sometimes bunching and rippling. It would not explain the strange fluctuations in temperature.)
Joly. Combeferre had not considered him an intimate acquaintance, but an acquaintance he had most certainly been. He recalled the young man’s death this spring most vividly. Joly had returned to classes at the start of the term complaining of poor health. It was only when he had been absent from lectures for two weeks that Combeferre had asked one of Joly’s closer friends about him: why yes, he was quite ill. Chomel was treating him, but with more opium than hope. It was a case of typhoid fever that had progressed rapidly to the adynamic form. Combeferre had attended the funeral and had kept little more than the recollection of a charming young man, incapable of malice, fashionable for a medical student, with a sometimes giddy enthusiasm for theory.
And now here was Combeferre sitting in a half-broken chair listening to him. The voice was the same. The laugh was the same. And in all this madness the law-student Bossuet seemed merely apologetic, rather than bewildered. When he had begun to explain about the ghost wanting leeches, he had sounded no more off-balance than someone explaining about–oh, about the awkwardness of a fireplace that smoked or a great-grandmother who needed things shouted very loudly twice over.
Perched on the edge of the bed, Bossuet reached absently behind him and twined his fingers with what must be an unseen hand. Combeferre began to feel a dull and sickly panic. It was Orpheus and Eurydice, but who was leading whom? Where were they going?
“But Combeferre,” said Joly’s voice, “just think of all the experiments. I’ve been doing what I could–Bossuet is a saint for putting up with me–but I don’t have any materials.”
Combeferre pushed his spectacles firmly back into place. He took a careful breath. “Yes. Of course. Now, will you explain to me about the leeches?”
The medical students’ conversation was running along the lines of the mental aspect of ghostly medicine. This was an altogether new field–the ghostly leeches were already improving the patient’s sense of well-being–certainly this was an effect of the mind, but what else could he be but mind? And what were living patients if not also minds, minds linked with bodies. By examining a ghost, one could perhaps isolate the treatment of the one from the treatment of the other… Combeferre was evidently not drunk in any literal sense–for one thing, Bossuet and Joly had nothing in that line to offer at the moment–but in his shirtsleeves and talking magnetism and vibration and psychofluidism to the thin air he seemed not altogether sober. His hair had begun to stick up and he kept taking off his spectacles and putting them on again to stare at the space Joly’s voice occupied.
A sensation not entirely unlike jealousy began to touch Bossuet. This was unusual. Into a quiet lull he suggested another experiment: brandy. Joly had not yet discovered how to drink but he had some ideas. “Let’s try setting it on fire,” had been his words. “It worked with the leeches." Combeferre nodded dreamily and agreed. "Ghost leeches, ghost brandy. God in Heaven, why not."
Bossuet trundled out into the night with a sense of relief. He needed the fresh air and the exercise. Jealousy? Pettiness? Oh, tut tut. With the bottle under his arm and an autumn chill piercing his coat he felt his head clearing as he neared his building’s door. And then–
"Lesgle! Lesgle! L'AIGLE DE MEAUX, just the man I was looking for!”