Our Little Lives Don't Count At All

jkwrites' Enjolras ask blog!

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Hello monsieur Enjolras.

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Bonjour mademoiselle.  How are you today?

[dangerous--reality]

I am well, I saw your protest, it was really very inspiring, I’m Evie by the way.

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Why thank you, Evie.  It is always good to hear feedback from the public.

[dangerous--reality]

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Hello monsieur Enjolras.

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Bonjour mademoiselle.  How are you today?

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i dreamed a dream 

of being a quality blog

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Now actually good tumblr posts have killed the dream I dreamed.

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um wut

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i dreamed a dream 

of being a quality blog

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A skeptic who adheres to a believer is as simple as the law of complimentary colors. That which we lack attracts us. No one loves light like the blind man.

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in other news, sexism is still fucking awful

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Reblog if you ever

- made your self throw up

- starved

- took a razor to your skin

- felt like your not good enough

- thought about suicide

- attempted suicide

- burnt your self

- got bullied

- been called ugly/fat etc..

- or harmed your self in any way

- cried your self to sleep

- been abused

I will message every fucking single one of you.

[the-lady-patria-of-france]

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“Oh Enjolras, always lovely to see you.”

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“It is always a pleasure to see you as well, mademoiselle.”

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“How are you today Chere?”

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"I am well.  How are you?"

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[perplexingly]

Continuation of this because of:

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Visit Original Link

Apologize covered by George Blagden

a capella

if this doesn’t shock the crap out of you, you have no soul. its pure talent.

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he is fantastic in so many ways.

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//I MUST DOWNLOAD THIS, WHERE CAN I DOWNLOAD THIS?!

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“Oh Enjolras, always lovely to see you.”

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"It is always a pleasure to see you as well, mademoiselle."

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I have returned!

I apologize for my absence.  Has anything crucial happened during my leave?

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He smiled and made a small grunt like trying to laugh. "It hurts..."

"What does?"  He asked gently.

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Rigantona stepped out of Lamarque’s mansion with a trepidatious but still graceful stride. Her usual confidant tigeress was transformed into something downtrodden. She still possessed the deadly beauty that was her’s but she looked like she barely had the energy to use it.

Moving with her head…

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Enjolras was suddenly pushed forward and he turned immediately ready to strike back.  He put his fists back down instantly, however, because what he expected to be yet another disgruntled officer was a glassy eyed young lady.  She murmurs a pardon and he bows his head.

“All is alright, mademoiselle.”  He assures, peering at her face.  ”Is there something you’re here for?”

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She turned her head towards the mansion and sighed. “There’s a dying man in that house. He’s a close and very dear friend of mine.” She looked wistful. “I’m only trying to return to my inn. It has been a long day.” Her voice sounded like a melancholy song.

His voice stirred something in her memory, “I have heard your voice before,” she paused as she studied him with her intense eyes as the gears turned, “Are you one of the protesters that stays outside his house?”

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“Yes I am.”  He affirms with pride in his voice as he takes her hand and bows his head once again.  ”I am Enjolras. I fight for Frances freedom.  You know Lamarque?  How did you make his acquaintance.”

He looks to the mansion as well, feeling the sadness that is so clearly written in her eyes.  ”I understand what you said about a long day.  He fades quickly.”

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She smiled softly but not with much heart. “Pleased to meet you, they call me Rigantona or Riggy for short.” She looked down at the pavement, “Yes, I know more than anyone. How I made his acquaintance is a story that few would believe.”

She sighed heavily, “It is something that I know all too well, but I suppose that is life.” She looked up at him again, “If you wish to speak further, please take me from here, I cannot stand the smell of impending death.”

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“Oh,” he said, he hadn’t hardly been phased by the tormented aura of the mansion.  ”Of course ma’am.  Where shall I take you?”

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Her expression softened, “I’m sorry monsieur, I am on edge.” She gazed up at him with a happiness that was poorly concealing the pain of a dear friend that was close to being lost. “Anywhere that there is copious amounts of alcohol would be nice.Sorry, I no longer know Paris, I’ve been here in close to thirty years,” The woman that looked like she couldn’t be more then twenty-five responded. 

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He held his polite expression despite wanting to grit his teeth at the “alcohol” comment.  Becoming drunk is never the answer.  ”Very well.”  He agreed anyway, offering his arm.  ”I know just the place…  With plenty of lively characters to ease your mind.”

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She smiled greatfully, her beauty slowly returning to it’s glory, “Thank monsieur,” she paused, “I usually don’t drink my problems away but there are sometimes when they need to be numb for a night. That sounds wonderful.” She took his arm, “Lead the way.”

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He leads her along, relieved that she seems to be slowly recovering from her weary mood.  He’s never been good with anothers tears.  

“Have you every visited the Musain?”  He asked.  He had high hopes that his men would welcome her.  Not that he thought her fragile, although her grip on his arm was somewhat dainty.

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She shook her head, “No, I have not. I haven’t ever heard the name before.”

Looking up at him, she studied his expression and she knew it well, she smirked to herself as she flexed her arm with incredible strength, she wasn’t a little flower. She may have had the face of a rose but there was a tigeress lurking behind her eyes. It was just her hope that she hadn’t bruised him, too badly, she mused.

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He smiled lightly when he felt her arm flex against him.

"The Musain is where I have meetings with some friends of mine...  We're a rebel group, I suppose you could call us.  I hope you do not mind enjoying your drink amongst the noise."

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*She took a deep breath* Well, to begin with there are other beings that inhabit the earth besides the usual. They are dark sinister forces that wish to cause chaos and mayhem. They are called Demons, they take on the form of black smoke and possess anyone who is not protected. They can act like that person from digging into their memories and can convince even their closest friends that they are that person. Do you understand what I am saying? *She paused and looked at him questioningly*

Yes...  I'm certain.  How do we go about this?

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He sipped the tea and took a deep breathe. He coughed hard and curled into a ball.

"Don't curl into a ball, now."  He murmured soothingly, smoothing a hand down Grantaire's back.  "Face it like a man."