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     I’m a trash bag and I’ll revamp this blog again .   probably cull some muses .   it’s all gonna b very slow though .    I spend all my free time with sam ! 

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pontificalandwarlike / ENJOLRAS ! 

           Enjolras shakes his head at Gavroche’s declaration, hoping fervently that it was merely youthful BRAGGING and not a statement of verified fact. For all the pride that the boy seems to take in that ability, he hates to think of those small wrists pressed against HANDCUFFS, forced to slip themselves free with small nimble fingers in order to reclaim his freedom upon the streets. The image of it, heavy cruel irons against childish flesh, stirs a painful, clenching sort of anger in his chest. Not if I can help it. 

           He can almost see Gavroche thinking, the steps of logic he employs to stretch his understanding further than what he knows already. It astounds him, sometimes, the bright intuition lurking behind that cocky grin and childish eyes. Gavroche is SMART, fast to learn, nearly as quick in mind as he is on his feet, piercingly insightful when Enjolras least expects it. It pains him, to know that neglect and poverty have robbed the child of the opportunity to LEARN. No child should be denied his education, and yet…. 

          But now is not the time to dwell on such things. More urgent matters press –––– like keeping himself and Gavroche safe from the threatening eyes of the authorities, and solving the little problem with the gunpowder. The second he has yet to think of an answer to, but the first he can manage. “ Perhaps, ” Enjolras says, vaguely. “ What say you to DINNER in exchange for… services rendered ? ” If he frames it as a fair exchange, as a price paid in return for Gavroche’s work, then perhaps it would rankle less upon the independence of that free spirit, and the boy would be more willing to accept. 

          HE ROCKS ON HIS HEELS ,   the balls of his feet worn and weathered past the point of ever   aching .   for a moment . he thinks enjolras is going to   SHORT   him .   it’d be quite the betrayal –––– and a perfect crime as well . because what could he do ?   there is no battle he could win against him ,   except maybe that of   WILLS ;   his brow begins to twist .   bitten lips become a scowl that might be   harsh ,   on an older face . 

          but enjolras goes on .   he hesitates to answer , still ––––– is the trade fair ?   the money he earns is turned into food ,   yes ; this proposal only saves him a step .   on the other hand ,  though ,   he does not necessarily have to turn his money into bread   tonight .   he can ration ; he can save .   this works in his favor ,  sometimes .   it isn’t as though the effort of   STEALING   quite troubles him ,   but it saves his energy ––––– and when it’s cold ,  it’s cold .   and another point not to be missed . . .   there is a chance that he may end up with   MORE   from enjolras than he could buy or conjure up on his own .   he   is   quite hungry –––– it’s cumbersome ,   running criss-cross through the city .   

          so he seems unconvinced ,   maybe worried .   but sometimes ,   pure rationale is undone by an empty stomach .     ‘  . . . alright .   THIS   time .  ’

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tobeblamed / DEAN ! 

      ‘  that’s not what this is about!  ’    he snaps without any intention of doing so, but given his worry, he had every right to be angry.  he could have been KILLED, and dean would have been the one to bury him.  he sighs at his words, as he finds the strength in him to relax his tone.  his lips purse together at the thought of losing his father figure.  they’ve already lost ellen and jo.  that’s enough.          ‘  i can’t lose you, too, bobby.  not now …  not ever.  ’   his voice almost breaks as he stares at him.  he thought he was over the pain, but it seems tat he needs to learn to live with it.

          THAT IS WHAT THIS IS ABOUT ,   THOUGH ,                        at the very root ,   and that doesn’t escape him .   wouldn’t   escape him ,  even if he wanted it to .   he’s clenching his jaw ––––– dean is   GROWN ,   and there’s no reason to be yelling at him like he would a child .   bites on the inside of his cheek while he stares him down .   eventually ,   he gives up with a loud ,   gruff breath .   dean is grown ,   but he’s gawking at him all dewey and   WIDE-EYED .   he comes back a little more careful ,  too ; no less final .     ‘  y’know I ain’t gonna live forever .   and I’m sure as   hell   not goin’ to one of them nursing homes where every other sucker’s either a crazy or a mute .  ’

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knifedroses / GALLAGHER ! 

                   ❛             aw  no ,    c’mon .             ❜          he  holds  the  wince  when  mickey  punches  his  arm  ;    three  brothers ,    and  two  pushy  sisters  -  he’s  used  to  being  a  bit  of  a  punching  bag .      ian  would  get  up  and  follow  mickey  if  he’d  gone ,    but  when  all  he  received  was  a  scowl ,    he  wasn’t  worried .          ❛            we  both  know  i  have  ba  -  hey .            ❜          he  got  up  from  the  squatted  position  to  follow  behind  mickey .      he’s  close  enough  that  he’d  step  on  the  brunettes  heels  if  he  wasn’t  careful  about  it .      there  are  nerves  running  through  him  that  he’s  attempting  to  swallow ;    he  hadn’t  thought  through  how  difficult  robbing  the  store  might  actually  be .

when  they  stepped  inside ,    he  felt  the  OVERWHELMING  feeling  that  everybody  knew  that  the  two  didn’t  belong  there .      ian  was  still  seventeen  -   though  he’d  filled  out ,    the  rush  of  adrenaline  &  nerves  were  giving  way  to  his  true  age .          ❛             so ?             ❜          he  leans  close  to  mickey  with  his  voice  quiet .      he’d  figured  mickey  would  do  the  talking      (      he’d  always  seemed  to  know  what  to  say  to  scare  the  shit  out  of  people  before  -  so  ian  figured  he  would  now      ) . 

          HE’S NOT HESITATING ,  BUT HE TAKES             his time .    there is a difference .   the bell rings when he meanders in ,   hands in his pockets ,   eyes on shelves .  minding his own business .   outside of their own neighborhood ,   where nobody   knows   him ,   he does a decent job of playing the part .   although ,  in the back of his mind ,   he’s not really so sure .   he can   FEEL   ian hovering warmly ,  tall and thin and bright - haired ,   not at all shielded behind short ,   stocky mickey .   this street marks a faux - border between two types of south side . . .   those in the bottom   TAX BRACKET ,   and those who don’t pay taxes ,   to begin with .   they might blend ,   they might not .  

          so ?   mickey wanders all the way down the aisle and back again .   pauses in front of the skin mags hidden at the end for the sole sake of being a piece of   shit   ;   turns to smirk dirty at the boy over his shoulder .   it’s a private joke with himself ,  at least ,  if he’s the only one who thinks he’s   funny   –––– and often ,  he is .   spots the door to the stockroom and nods to ian ,   a heads up for when he needs it .   trails grimy fingers along the edge of   PRINGLES CANS   and salsa jars on his way back up to the register .   the man behind it looks bored ,   tired .       ‘  yo .   gimme a few packs of newports and ,   uh ,   the money outta the drawer .  ’

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knifedroses / GALLAGHER ! 

               ❛             they’re  called  bonnie  and  clyde ,    not  clyde  and  the  chronicles  of  not  having  bonnie .      you’re  my  bonnie ,             ❜          he  grins ,    knowing  the  insult  laced  into  the  comment  -  but  he  thinks  he’s  clever  for  referencing  mickey’s  position subtly .      when  mickey  bends  down  to  look  at  the  notes ,    ian  holds  them  up  a  little  more  before  he  turned  his  head  to  peer  back  at  mickey .           ❛             alright .             ❜          he  won’t  mention  that  he  hasn’t  mapped  the  inside  of  the  store ,    only  the  outside ,    but  it  can’t  be  difficult  to  navigate      (      why  would  somebody  lock  the  back  door      ) .          ❛             i’m  ready  if  you’re  ready .             ❜          he  doesn’t  need  the  notebook  anymore ,    so  he  stuffs  it  into  a  backpack .      when  he  looks  at  mickey  it’s  expectantly ;    in  ian’s  mind ,    mickey  is  a  pro .

          OH, THAT IS THE LAST FUCKING STRAW.                ‘    okay,   you know what ?   you’re on your own ,  dickbag .  ’     his fist impacts into ian’s arm , the first piece of him that he can reach .   thinks about gathering himself up ,  mostly for the sake of teaching a   LESSON –––––    because  ––––––     because .    the thing that makes him hesitate is that gallagher is an idiot and actually   might   go through with this on his own ,  and get himself fucking arrested .   and, he doesn’t know . . .    MANDY   would probably get all pissed at him for it .   so he doesn’t move ,  but he’s scowling .    it probably doesn’t count for shit .     ‘  BEEN   ready .   been waitin’ on you ,  to ,  you know .   grow balls , or whatever you gotta do .  ’     famous last words .   with that as his qualifier ,  he’s   GALAVANTING   from behind the dumpster ,  headed across the street to the liquor store .   ian had better stick close behind .   and   BE COOL . 

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tobeblamed / DEAN ! 

     ‘  of course y’can, bobby.  we know you can.   ’     there is no doubt that bobby is capable of handling any job.  he knows how to hunt better than both brothers, and he has proven that many times.  he didn’t lack capability         he lacked support.      ‘   but you should’a called us.  you needed back-up.  ’

          ‘  AND I DON’T NEED THE LECTURE ,           either !  ’          there’s no way he’s gonna stand here and be   scolded   by some kid .   especially  not by dean –––– thank you very damn much .   tongue running slow and fat over the fronts of teeth ,  he reaches up ,  pinching hard the bridge of his nose .   he’s getting . . .   he’s getting   OLD .   doesn’t mean he’s incapable .   mostly , because if he is . . . well ,  then what is he capable of ?       ‘  . . . watch your   tone   with me .   if you think you’re about to tell me how to do the   JOB ,   you got another thing comin’ .  ’

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knifedroses / IAN !

                   ❛             alright ,  gonna  hold  you  to  your  word ,             ❜          he  warns ,  biting  on  his  bottom  lip  to  subside  the  grin  that  he  has .      there  was  an  extraordinary  amount  of  meticulous  planning  that  went  into  his  money  -  making  plan  ;  his  high  work  ethic  was  being  used  in  the  wrong  ways  -  but  it  was  all  by  his  own  accord .      he’d  make  a  shitty  ‘  criminal  ’  any  other  way .          ❛             fuck  off .             ❜          he  lifts  his  hand    &    flips  the  bird  for  mickey  in  response  to  being  called  a  nerd  of  all  things .      but  he  still  checks  over  his  plan  twice  before  he  answers :          ❛             I  was  thinking  you  were  going  to  swing  into  the  side  of  the  building  and  break  a  huge  hole  into  it  that  I  can  climb  through ,    then  we’re  going  to  get  out  your  gun  and  start  pointing  lasers  at  people  and  tell  them  we’re  aliens  here  to  rob  them .             ❜          brows  were  raised  a  little  when  he  looked  up  at  mickey ,    and  smile  was  still  a  little  suppressed ,          ❛            front  door ,    dumbass .      we  don’t  want  to  raise  suspicion .             ❜

          HE BUYS IT , FOR ABOUT FIFTEEN SECONDS –––––                   and his incredulous stare becomes sharp for being made the fool .   ian thinks he’s goddamned clever .   motherfucker .   nobody’s this    smiley   right before they hold up a liquor store .   apparently adrenaline is lost on him , after all .   mickey’s middle finger fires back .     ‘  WHATEVER .   do this shit yourself , if you’re so goddamn smart .  ’     he bends at the knees , sinking lower into the depth of the alley where the streetlights have never reached .   peers over ian’s shoulder to check out the apparent   BLUEPRINT   that he’s reading .     ‘  nah .   we go in the front , then   you   go to the manager’s office and get the safe .   prop the back door so we got an out , in case the   CPD   decide to do their jobs tonight .   I’ll stay up front and make sure nobody gets stupid .  ’

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knifedroses / DUMBASS !

                 ❛             we’re  not  going  to  get  busted .             ❜                   there’s  no  guarantee  that  they  won’t ,    aside  from  promises  that  ian  can  haphazard  make  to  mickey .      there’s  a  notebook  in  hand  with  all  the  information  ian  had  spent  days  collecting  on  his  ‘  stakeout  ’  to  check  the  area  out    (  it’s  not  much  more  than  times  people  clock  in ,    then  back  out ,    and  where  all  the  major  doors  seem  to  be  ) .      when  he  opens  the  page ,    it’s  to  jot  down  something  he  seemed  to  have  forgotten .      mickey’s  comment  made  him  look  back  up  with  a  little  grin  ,                 ❛             hopefully  your  account  number  for  bail  loans .      my  plans  fucking  foolproof  though .      only  way  we  can  get  caught  is  if  there’s  too  much  dust  and  you  fucking  sneeze ,    or  something .             ❜

          SO THEY’RE CROUCHED IN THE DIRT                across the street , hidden in the shadows of the alley .   mickey has a gun on his belt and a pocket knife in his coat –––– and he’s never really used either in a way that   means shit ,   but that doesn’t mean he won’t .   there’s adrenaline in his ribs that he isn’t addressing ; if gallagher thinks so , too , then he’s not addressing it either .   he rolls his eyes –––– needs to look away from ian’s flash of teeth .     ‘  not gonna fuckin’ sneeze .  ’     they   are   gonna get busted , he thinks . . . well , probably .   but he’s still ambivalent all the same .   the joint doesn’t scare him .   although, maybe being there with   him   might be a bit of a different story . 

        a part of him is rolling with this for the sheer amusement of it being ian’s plan .   notes and everything .     ‘  nerd , ’     he gruffs , then ––––     ‘  which way’re we goin’ in ?  ’

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          ‘  WE CAN DO IT YOUR WAY ––––––                   as long as you get that it’s a   stupid   fuckin’ idea , and we’re gonna get busted .  ’     he’s irritated, but he’s coming along anyway .   jail doesn’t bother him ; hell , even crazy ideas don’t , but only when they’re well planned . brainlessness bothers him .  his smile is irritated , too , baleful teeth bared .   there are   better   ways to make a buck .      ‘  but hey ; what the fuck do I know, right ?  ’    // @knifedroses  ( s.c. )   ( for ian ! )  

whatever at least I give good head

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@tintedrage​ / QUIT YOUR BITCHIN’ !

   ❝    there ain’t  NOTHING  here with the answers to our questions.    ❞           honestly,  at this point,  going at it guns blazing doesn’t sound like such an  a w f u l  idea.  it usually turns out in his favor.  mostly.           ❝    and the one guy who  could  help us is  MIA,  so at least give me a spell to track his feathery ass down ! ❞

          ‘  WHAT EXACTLY D’YOU SUPPOSE                  I’m doin’ here,   playing jacks ?  ’     he’s not going to be able to keep himself    composed   for much longer –––– and yelling ,   he thinks ,   real yelling ,   probably won’t work .   he’s no one’s   FATHER   (  and he’d like to remind himself that he ain’t his   own ,    either  ).   but then ,   nothing else is getting through ,   either .   thick-skulled   WINCHESTER .   ‘  ain’t like calling on   zachariah   is a safe bet ,   either ––––– but maybe if you shut up and cracked a book ,   and I didn’t have to worry about you runnin’ off every five minutes ,   we’d have something by now .  ’

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pontificalandwarlike / ENJOLRAS !

     Enjolras follows the arc of Combeferre’s hand with his eyes. His gaze flings itself FURTHER OUTWARDS, though, as if he can see the entire expanse of Paris, and even France, stretching out before his eyes. And perhaps he can, at least in imagination ; it is his habit of sorts, after all, to gaze into the distance upon a VISION that no one else could see. Images are conjured easily in his mind, dancing before his eyes with as much reality and substance as the objects his hand can touch around him. He gazes a moment at that distance, at that vision, and then pulls his eyes away with a visible effort to fix his eyes on Combeferre once more. 

     “ But every man should be able to learn, ” he declares with conviction. It is in their name after all. Les Amis de l’ABC, they called themselves, and they were friends of the ABC as much as they were friends of the abaissé. Puns such as this are not made IN VAIN. “ And yes, not every man is bold. Perhaps not every man can be bold. But that is why –– that is why we must be bold, mustn’t we ? WE MUST BE BOLD for all of them. We must dream bold, and act bold, enough for ourselves as well as those who do not dare be bold for themselves. ”

          QUIET AND SELF-CONTAINED IS THE SMILE                 that graces him ,   the notion that he should keep it to himself a second thought ,   only .   though anger is dissipating ,   its replacement is no less somber ,   no less   dire   ––––– still ,   combeferre eases .   he is pleased to see the light flickering in those eyes change from raging sparks to a comfortable   flicker ,     candles in dark rooms ,   illuminating .   it’s that light that parts rivers ,   he thinks .   not the rolling   SCORCH   of fury ,   or the bright blaze of righteousness –––– it’s this single flame ,   steady ,   upright and pure . 

          he does not want to be caught .    forces the corners of his lips into a firm line ,   and gives a nod .      ‘  of course .   of course we will .  ’      his doctor’s hand is steady ,   too ,   as it lands upon a thin shoulder .   it does not shake ; does not doubt for a moment ,   for half of one .      ‘  until then ,   we can forgive .   we must .   there is too much to do in the meantime .  ’     eyes lower ,   then ,   roaming the paperwork that seems to sprawl   endlessly   around them .      ‘  what have you been up to tonight ?  ’ 

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mndymlkvch / MANDY ! 

                   ❛        just   reminding   you.         like   clockwork,   you   forgot.        ❜          she   breathed   out   a   tiny   sigh     &     fell   silent   for   all   of   five   seconds,   before   she   glanced   at   him,    then   held   her   hand   out   for   the   package.          ❛      i’m   trying   to   quit.          ended   up   punching   shelly   madison   -   the   girl   with   the   snaggletooth?        ❜          she   held   her   hand   up   to   show   him   the   small   gash   left   behind,         ❛         who   the   fuck   would’ve   known   her   tooth   would’ve   seconded   as   a   weapon.        ❜

          THE REAL KICKER IS THAT                he   did ,    in fact ,   forget .   must have ; he’s got    NO FUCKING CLUE   what she’s on about .   but an abrasive tongue struggles to twist correctly ,   anyway –––– refuses to give up and ask .   instead ,   he snorts and tosses the pack over .   he’s only got a few left ,   and barely enough cash in his pocket for another .      ‘  whatever .   you wanna bitch ,   do it quietly .    ––––– . . . yeah ?   probably for the best you keep smokin’ ,   then .  ’     he’s never had the desire to quit ; always figures he’s got bigger problems .   a dozen things he’s likely to die from before   lung cancer .     ‘  go back and knock that tooth out of her head .  ’

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pontificalandwarlike / ENJOLRAS. 

          ‘ Ignorance without the intent to LEARN is ! ’ Enjolras declares, voice trembling with ill-suppressed anger. ‘ It is not only that he did not know, but that he did not care to know. That he did showed no indication of a desire to improve. A PUPIL can be taught : see Pontmercy. But a man like him, who cares not for anything, who dares MOCK the Revolution –– ’ 

          Enjolras cuts himself off abruptly, the words ceasing as if a river stemmed. A hand rises to press frustration against the side of a marble face, and then falls back to the table, chased by a huff of breath. ( Somewhere, an unwitting observer startles, shocked by marble rendered flesh by a single gesture. )  ‘ I’m SORRY. It is not against you, my friend. I am… frustrated. But you are right –––– you are always right. I should not have been so harsh. ’

          THERE IS REAL ANGER, AND COMBEFERRE        must stop himself from wondering what the true root is.   he keeps an even face, must look neither surprised not snide.   he often fears he comes across too stern   ( much like his friend )    ––– and especially means not to.   perhaps both could benefit from a cup of tea and a ten minute break.

          ‘  I understand what you mean.   but remember to most, how much   EASIER   it is to stay safe in what is known.   which is how we arrived here to begin with.  ’     he gestures vaguely around the room, meaning the city, the country –––– the king.   he imagines it must be difficult for enjolras to remember himself as an exception of the rule.   and perhaps that is because, in most ways that   COUNT,   he is not.   but in one way . . . in one set of eyes, at the very least, he is.   and thereby, is held to a different standard.   better or worse, it is too soon to say.     ‘  not every man is learned, and not every man is bold.  ’

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          ‘ YOU KNOW THAT HE MEANS         no harm.   ignorance   isn’t   a sin. ’   there’s a breezy tone that makes his voice coast ––––– all cool air, no heat.   enjolras hasn’t come to him looking to be   chastised.   for combeferre’s part, he hasn’t even really taken note of   who  it  was   that crossed him . . .   but it does not matter, if he plans to   FORGIVE,   anyway.   instead, he lifts his gaze to his friend’s face, half-smirking.   ‘ we were not always so wise, either, hm ?   where would we be without our teachers ?  ’     // @pontificalandwarlike

[asphalted-blog1]

ofmurdering / MORON. 

          ❝   i can’t just sit here and do     N O T H I N G !       it’s driving me fucking     B A T S H I T !       and maybe you and sam can sit around and read the same damn books over and over again,       but at least my plan involves doing something!   ❞

          ‘  GETTIN’ YOURSELF KILLED AIN’T    doing  something,   idjit.   you don’t have a shot in hell against -–––––  HEAVEN ––––––– so you’re gonna sit your sorry ass here until somebody does.   you got it ? ’