the eponine x cosette x marius ot3 anon is back !!

check back with me in a few days anon and hopefully i'll have something more substantial for you

don't mind if i do :3 but also, i thought i'd tell you that you've mildly inspired me to start writing fic again. i'm not sure i'll ever actually finish, but there's that!

HI ANON I LOVE YOU I'M SO SORRY FOR VANISHING

that makes me so happy!!!! fic is such a fun and glorious thing <3 i took a two-week break from writing because of a family trip (and then depression kicked me in the ass) but i'm coming back to it today and i am very happy about that :D

since we last talked, i have outlined the fic!! i have a pretty good sense of where it's going, which makes me happy. (there are still LARGE chunks of this fic that are not outlined -- notably the resolution, lmfao -- but i'm hoping those sections will take shape as i get a better feel for the fic as a whole)

also... i wrote one of the most important scenes :D

“Dearly beloved-- well, now I sound like a priest.” Eponine sighs. “You’re thinking about it too hard.” She lets the pen drop. “You have to think about it-- listen, Marius is going to know who you are as soon as he gets the letter. This isn’t about introducing yourself in the usual way. You’re trying to avoid a WhatsApp romance, aren’t you?” Cosette crosses her arms, watching her. “So how would you do it?” “I’d lose the self-consciousness,” she says, bluntly. “This only works if you commit fully.” Cosette shakes her head. “I can’t just stop being anxious. I’ve never talked to him, I don’t even know what his voice sounds like!” “Marius is a romantic,” says Eponine, firmly. “He’ll love whatever you write for him. Look, let me--” She scribbles something down, more focused on displaying relaxation than the quality of her writing. Marius-- I want this to be more than just a summer fling. I don’t know what your voice sounds like, but I know what it feels like to have you live in my heart, in my thoughts, in my life. Will you start this experiment with me? Will something bloom through the pages of our letters? When she glances up, Cosette is staring at her, awed. Belatedly, Eponine says, “Something like that.”