[made rebloggable by several requests. there were silly requests. tis a silly story.]
ASK: rrueplumet i cannot sleep. tell me a bedtime story? (pls pls pls)
once upon a time there was a man named combeferre. he was not actually named combeferre, though, for that would be a silly name.
"but that is my name," combferre interrupted the narrator, looking up from his book. he sat alone in the back room of the musain while his friends did cool things without him. "that’s not true. and why are you narrating my actions?"
the narrator ignored combeferre for he was a silly man.
combeferre was bespectacled and very very smart. he was hot, but not as hot as his friend enjolras.
"was that a compliment or an insult?" combeferre asked, adjusting his spectacles. they were silly spectacles. "why do you keep calling me silly?"
it was at that sudden moment enjolras burst through the back door. he was better looking than combeferre.
"combeferre we must forego the revolution" the hot one said.
the less hot one was alarmed. ”forego the—are you feeling all right?”
"perfectly," he replied. "i have merely regarded the fruitlessness of our endeavour and will move to eastern america with grantaire to run a grocery shop and have lots of sex and babies"
"what?" combeferre wore a silly expression. he looked skyward as though he might find the narrator there, because he is a silly man. "i am not a sill—oh for heaven’s sake—enjolras, what is happening right now?"
"we are in the ‘fanfiction’," the hot one said, curling his fingers around imaginary words. "i must make babies with grantaire."
"you can’t make babies with—with grantaire, enjolras—you need a woman for that."
"a woman?" the hot one was bemused. "what is a ‘woman’? is it a pie?"
"no, it is not a—"
"then i do not care. goodbye, old friend." before the hot one left he was struck with a thought, and spun on the heel of his foot to declare, "by the way, everyone else is sleeping together as well. except bahorel. no one cares about him."
"he is a silly man." it was with this the hot one left, leaving combeferre confused and vaguely aroused, as the hot one’s presence usually left such an effect.
"i am not vaguely aroused."
and yet he argued he was not a silly man.
"i am not a silly man."
bahorel was the best and should have been sleeping with all them.
"that’s not an epilogue, that’s a personal interjection."
combeferre, being a silly man, was ignored by the narrator, and left alone in the musain twiddling his thumbs and being not as hot as his friend.
the end again.