[camaradcrie]

Private and selective multi-muse featuring characters from Les Misérables, the works of Oscar Wilde, and more! Please read my guidelines before interacting and if you’d like to reach out, shoot me a message or fill out my interest tracker! Also found at my Patroclus sideblog  @chironiides​ .

STATUS:   sporadic activity, semi-hiatus CARRD .   //   INTEREST TRACKER .   

[camaradcrie]

wrensfeatheredpen

The return of the handkerchief, and Enjolras accepted it with a quiet bid of “ thank you ” . He could, at the very least, use it in attempt to help tidy his hair. In the state it was, he could surely use the assistance. It meant, of course, that he would owe Joly a not - damp handkerchief, but such was a price he was willing to pay in the rescue efforts for his papers ( and to keep Madame Houcheloup from being cross over the puddles on the floor, even with how departed she had become over the state of the back room ) .

“ Science can explain a great deal, that is true enough. ” Enjolras tilted his head in an accepting half - nod. Tossing his somewhat dry ponytail over his shoulder, he moved onto the attempt of a rescue mission for his books. “ There are some parts of the world that which cannot be explained by it, however. As Bossuet has so kindly pointed out for me, the soul is of another question entirely — the heart, too. Emotions, in their essence, have scientific explanations for how they occur, but it is impossible to definitely define their natures. One cannot use science to determine a person’s true being, nor how one may react to any given circumstance. It can be predicted, on occasion, but never guaranteed. ”

“I wouldn’t say never,” Joly mused, though it was an interesting question. He liked to think that science did, in fact, explain all. “But you may be right. Regardless I would still argue that science as a means is the only one we have to learn of absolute truth. It is the closest to certainty we will ever get.” He twisted his cane in his hand, smiling as he watched Enjolras try and dry his things. A soft laugh fell from his lips at the sight of him. “My poor friend, you really did let yourself get soaked!” Bossuet snorted at this too.

Joly leaned forward and reached for one of Enjolras’s wet books, looked at the poor battered cover and carefully opened it. “Why not set these in front of the fire? It will dry the pages better than a handkerchief.”

[camaradcrie]

@praenunti​ asked:  ❝  the night doesn’t have to end here,  you know.  ❞ Eros & Dio

Dionysus was in a stupor, a wonderful little stupor. They’d imbibed a great deal, he even dragged Eros out to dance on the beach at one point, his maenads all laughter and joy around them. He loved dancing with them, with anyone who let themselves go so much, but Eros especially. Eventually, he let them wind down, gently coaxed his madness out of them but left it in himself and Eros both, just for the thrill of it. 

Kicking up sand, his arms came to wrap around Eros’s neck and he threw himself at him, pushing him down onto the sand, into the salty water that washed up and down the beach. He was all laughter and joy. “You wish to keep me here longer, do you? Darling, it’s been days. Many days.” But one more night would be alright, and it was not as though either them particularly needed sleep, pleasant as the sensation was.

“It doesn’t have to end here, what should we do next? Let them rest, be wild just with me.”

[flowerytale]

Percy Bysshe Shelley, from “Prometheus Unbound”

[camaradcrie]

a little baby polar bear summersaults into your askbox, holding a pink, heart shaped letter in its mouth that it wrote and cut out for you with its little bear paws. it hands the note to you: “ happy valentine’s day from a little bear who loves you and believes in you!”

Oh this is precious, thank you so much whoever sent this over <3

[camaradcrie]

praenunti​

Just like that, the argument ended. Henry wasn’t well, and Francis couldn’t bring himself to continue the argument. What did it matter anyway? It was done now, he supposed, and no amount of bitterness or regret or anger on his part would change that, and it sure as shit wouldn’t change Henry. Nothing would. 

He sank back into his chair and pulled off his glasses to scrub a hand over his face. He felt so tired all of a sudden. He couldn’t remember what had inspired him to start this argument. What did it matter if Henry admitted he was wrong or not? Francis knew he was, but knew just as strongly that Henry had done his best, as he always did. He’d done what he had believed was best, at any rate. He would never stop wishing for Henry to cease acting on everyone’s behalf without their say, but he didn’t know if that was possible. If it was between that and not having Henry at all, Francis knew he’d put up with it until the end of time.

Or so he’d thought.

Henry’s declaration, coming at the tail end of that thought, was a punch to the gut, so strong that a strangled noise got caught in the back of Francis’ throat. “What?” He gasped the word, choking on the sound. “Moving where? Why–?” There were too many possible ends to that question to just pick one, and they all seemed to tangle together when he tried to choose. Why now? Why are you going at all? Why are you telling me this? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? 

Francis had to stop to light another cigarette, and his hands were trembling again ever so slightly. That declaration terrified him. Henry hadn’t said it directly, but there was a finality to it, and ending that Francis was neither ready nor remotely prepared for. He tried to take a breath, and when he spoke again it was still strained, the words filtering through his teeth. “What do you mean you’re not returning? To school, you mean? Or do you intend to abandon us forever? Is this your way of telling me I’m never going to see my best friend ever again? Because if that’s your idea of a goodbye, I–” 

He looked away, cutting himself off sharply. He refused to raise his voice or dissolve into panic when Henry wasn’t well. It was hard to speak slowly and calmly though when that sort of thing was just dropped on him casually. He didn’t know what to say, and could only look at Henry helplessly and hope he cared enough to explain. The problem with that was that he wasn’t sure he did.

Henry didn’t understand why those words warranted a dramatic response but he knew that they would. He knew Francis wouldn’t like it, that he might try to talk him out of it or hell, maybe invite himself along. Henry supposed he wouldn’t mind it if he did. He wasn’t leaving Francis, wasn’t even leaving Camilla and Richard, just Hampden. There was no reason to stay. Julian was gone. Francis had to know this was coming. Henry wasn’t going to waste his time on an English degree, nor would he stay somewhere that offered so little. None of them liked Hampden, except for Richard, perhaps. Its single redeeming quality had left and though Henry tried to leave it too, he failed that go around.

“Portland,” he answered, obviously meaning Maine. He would never live on the west coast. “Most of the paperwork is done and I have movers scheduled.”

He raised a brow as he inspected the lenses of his glasses and put them back on. If he truly never wanted to see Francis again why would he tell him at all? It frustrated him that it was asked, frustrated him too how big of a deal he was making this into. He shouldn’t be surprised. He wasn’t. He closed his eyes and pressed his knuckles to his brow once more. “Not to Hampden,” he answered. He didn’t think about his words when he said it, that Francis was there, that Camilla was, whatever their relationship was these days, Henry wasn’t sure. 

A sigh and he shook his head, waved a dismissing hand. “Don’t be ridiculous, Francis. If you want to come there’s a guestroom.” 

[grantslife]

@camaradcrie [ dionysus ] : ❝ when you cut loose, you really cut loose. ❞

" well, no one can do it quite like you, dionysus. " a deep chuckle bubbles up from zagreus when his cousin speaks, in a way, it's hard not to be so dour or nervous in their presence. but there is a thread that thrums in his chest that aches with anxiety - being here, on olympus, as lord uncle zeus had promised, to an extent, that zagreus could possibly join them. it's not permanent, of course, a simple visit, a gesture of good will from the underworld to the olympians. " though, it's not often that i indulge in pleasantries of this scale. truth be told i think it's getting to me a bit. "

[camaradcrie]

Dionysus roared with laughter, holding a goblet of his own wine as he carefully moved to fall gracefully into his chair. Horns seemed to grow from his head while, at the same time, once there it was like they always had been. His smile was radiant, mad and daring, his cheeks flushed. “Getting to you? The wine?” Or perhaps it was his own presence, that madness that drew people in, that unraveled them so perfectly. “Good.” 

He turned in the chair, tucked his legs underneath himself and leaned forward, studying Zagreus. His mismatched eyes had something in them, something of restraint, or perhaps worry. The moment he saw it he wanted to reach into him, find that thread and give it a harsh pull, see how he really was when he left every inhibition behind. “Stop that,” he cooed, “You’re worrying about something, aren’t you? I can tell. Set it aside or I’ll knock it out of you for a bit.” Another loud bout of laughter that shook his shoulders. “It really is fun if you let it all go.”

[praenunti]

@camaradcrie asked : ❝  bored? of you?  impossible.  ❞ (hermes to thanatos)

Thanatos smiles, watching Hermes move at an almost lazy pace (for him, at least, though Than has rarely moved so quickly in all his life). The soul-butterflies are already beginning to flock, and he waits to take them with his hands open. They're curious little things, their bejeweled wings shimmering in the dying light of the day. He far prefers the cover of darkness for these meetings, but Hermes is a shining Olympian, so they meet in the in-between.

"Oh, I hardly meant that," he corrects himself, his silver-gold eyes following Hermes' progress around the grove. "Perhaps only of this particular chore. Most of your kind are so disinclined to interacting with our realm. And it is a very constant chore, gathering the dead who lose their way. I have wondered from time to time if it was not unfair to you that you were given this responsibility. It seems far more rigid than those of your peers at times."

But Hermes, ever cheerful when they meet, has never complained of the burden he is saddled with. "I will say, the little ones seem terribly fond of you. It speaks highly to your character." The butterflies begin to settle on his robes and in his hair, along his arms and across his open palms. He sends them to the Underworld one by one, each with a gentle breath between his wings. "And I am grateful. The world of men has become too broad, even for me and my sisters to find them all alone."

[camaradcrie]

Hermes bounced gracefully across protruding roots, enjoying how it felt to be in motion, not wanting to lose his momentum as he transferred the souls to Thanatos. He was a busy god, Death was right about that, his tasks were never ending but that was okay. He liked being busy. He got to see things his siblings did not, got to go freely between the underworld and his home on Olympus. The souls he gathered were often scared, too, and he liked playing with them and speaking to him as he ran across the globe, catching each one with care. Sometimes, if one felt especially warm, he would take them to some last destination, some last sight before he carried them down to Charon or, as it was this time, Thanatos. 

“Oh, but I enjoy it,” he insisted, coming to still upon one of the larger roots, “it’s good to be busy, don’t you think? I took it up myself.” He saw no reason to distinguish between protecting the travels of a living mortal and the travels of a shade, he wanted to be there, he wanted to do this.

A bright grin spread across his cheeks and he preened a little, hopping down to get closer to Thanatos, the wings on his sandals fluttering happily. “You say such kind things, Thanatos, thank you. I do love them, or most of them, at least. The world is so slow moving that it’s really no trouble, it gives me an excuse to run.” He caught a stray soul-butterfly between his hands, ever gentle as he stretched them out and released it to Thanatos. “I hope you find time for fun, too? I know of a way or two to have it if you ever like.”

[forbiddenloveletters-deactivate]

“i looked at everyone and wondered where they came from, and who they missed, and what they were sorry for.”

— jonathan safran foer, extremely loud & incredibly close

[camaradcrie]

@praenunti​ asked:  ❝  please don’t go—  i need.  i need someone—  i need you.  ❞ Edwart

Artie stilled. He so hated seeing Edward troubled about anything, hated not knowing what to do to fix it. He slowly brought an arm around his shoulder and drew him up to his chest, pressed a kiss to his temple. “Who said I’m going? I was just going to find a harmonica somewhere and play you a sad song, give you something to suit this mood, you know?” He smirked, his fangs peaking out from his lips. Of course he wasn’t going to really do that, Edward knew it too. He just wanted to get him to smile and laugh again.

“Tell me what happened, pet.” He said, kissing his temple again and rubbing his shoulder. “Tell me how to get you back to your old self.”

[shamebats]

The most appealing thing a person can do is be Liked by cats

[camaradcrie]

praenunti​

Edward didn’t really understand at first what was in Artie’s head. Abstract thought was difficult that way. He was learning to associate Artie’s moods with different kinds of thoughts, but there were no words to his mind just then, only impulse. Artie had that a lot, and Edward never minded of course but this was strange. No sooner had he gotten back into bed with him, expecting Artie to be inclined to sleep, than his lover rose again and walked across the room. He watched him, frowning and confused, but didn’t yet suspect anything. Artie didn’t seem to understand it himself.

As soon as he did though, Edward’s cold dead heart jumped into his throat. Light, real sunlight, was coming in through the window. He must have left it too long, even if these were the first morning rays, not as harmful but still dangerous. He knew Artie felt warm and comforted and in absolute awe, heard it ringing true in his mind instead of pain and fear. He was always afraid of the sun, and Edward was too now, but why didn’t he move? That horrible thought, that terrifying, threatening thought left him chilled. I want to watch the sunrise.

He could only leave it a second before he moved himself, faster than human eyes could follow. He ran across the room and lifted Artie with his arms around his waist, and twirled him around to push him into the corner, Edward’s body between him and any light that might have reached the dark corner. “What are you doing?” His voice was tight with panic and worry. “The sun is rising! These are just normal windows, Artie, what are you thinking?” Did he want to die? He hadn’t been thinking that way. He’d been happy, contented, openly in love just seconds ago, it didn’t happen that fast. How could it? He grabbed Artie’s hand and turned it over, but there were no burns on his skin, not even the faintest pink of what looked like normal human sunburn–the first stage of the sun’s violence. Edward frowned, then took Artie’s face in his hands, inspecting his skin just as closely. “What..?” He looked over his shoulder at the windows. Was he wrong? He didn’t think so. He could usually tell the difference just by looking and these were normal windows, just plain unfiltered glass. What the hell?

Although he tried to get Edward to listen to his thoughts so that he might follow along, he really wasn’t thinking. It was just the immensity it all, he couldn’t string anything together with his lips or his mind. It was so long ago that he watched the sunrise, so long ago that he felt inspired by it instead of tired and scared. The warmth of even the cold light of dawn on his skin was such a foreign thing, he forgot what it felt like. He might have stayed there a long while, too.

He yelped when he felt himself being pulled by Edward. It was so impossibly fast even for him and unexpected enough that he was startled by it. “I’m fine!” He promised. “I’m fantastic.” He grinned, placed his hands the sides of Edward’s face, looking behind him toward the window. Dammit, Edward, I can hardly see it now. 

A laugh fell from his lips as he watched Edward’s panic dissolve into confusion. “I tried to tell you!” Artie was rather confused himself but he didn’t care. It didn’t matter why, he just wanted to go and watch. He wanted to go outside. He turned his face and kissed Edward’s palm. “Let’s get dressed,” he said, “I want to be in it. Edward, it doesn’t hurt. I’m not tired, it’s not even too bright for my eyes. It’s like- Wow! It’s like if I was human again.” he pulled a hand back from Edward and brought it to his teeth, pressed his finger to his fangs. No, he definitely wasn’t human again. He didn’t seriously think so but it was the first possibility that jumped to mind. They could figure it out later, he didn’t want to miss anymore than he had. He pressed his lips to Edward’s and then ducked underneath his arm to squirm his way out of the corner. 

“Look at it!” He exclaimed, his green eyes wild as he pulled on pants. He’s seen the echoes of a sunset in early evening, caught glimpses of early light that made his eyes start to burn and water but never this. He just stared out the window, fumbling with the buttons of his trousers. They couldn’t leave fast enough. 

[praenunti]

@camaradcrie asked : ❛  someone  needs  to  get  up   &   close  the  curtains .  ❜ (for edwart ☀️🔥)

Edward almost didn't want to get to their destination. It was nice having a home base, and somewhere dark would be wonderful, where Artie could stay awake with him longer and the sun wasn't in such strong command--at least during the winter months. But the idea of staying on the road like this was appealing too, chasing the dark as the seasons changed. He had never been nocturnal before, but found himself longing for the sun to vanish so his companion would wake and he could hear those familiar chaotic thoughts again.

They were lying in bed together, somewhere just north of the border. He had been glad of their time in Chicago, but was glad too to leave it behind him. He'd been quite comfortable and content as he was, the blankets crumpled around them and Artie's bare skin pleasantly warm against his own. He'd only just turned his head to look at the sky beyond their temporary room and sighed as he noticed the dark of the night beginning to lighten. Artie must have seen it too.

Edward nudged his lover gently with his cheek, then tipped Artie's head up to kiss him. "Yes, yes, I know. And that someone will be me, will it? So glad you asked so nicely." He smiled, amusement glimmering in his scarlet eye. He slipped out from under him and crossed the room to firmly close the blinds. It wasn't enough, so he took the thicker curtains he brought with them and fixed them over the glass so all light was blocked out. When he came back, he dropped onto the bed and sprawled over Artie so his partner bore the full weight of him. "One of these days I should make you do it yourself and when you throw a tantrum and refuse, simply let you burn to death." He took Artie's hand and kissed his palm, then his wrist, his lips soft against him in spite of the teasing words. He could barely contain a laugh, though he did his best. "It'll save me the trouble of catering to you all the time."

[camaradcrie]

“Oh that’s a wonderful idea, gorgeous, thank you. Wish I’d thought of it.” He laughed loudly and caught Edward by his arm to press a kiss to his mouth before letting him go and do it. He rolled onto his side, watching Edward move about in his full glory. Artie didn’t mind if Edward heard how beautiful he found him. He was distracted only by that feeling of warmth on his skin. It didn’t hurt, really, it was just- It was warm. He looked toward his wrist, at that ray of sunlight the slipped through the blinds before Edward covered them and he was still staring when Edward returned to him. 

He was dumbfounded, a little still when Edward started to kiss his hand and wrist. Edward, he thought, loudly as he could, inviting Edward to listen to his mind. His eyes were wild. It was early, maybe it wasn’t really the sunlight, but- Artie had not felt anything like it in fifty years. He couldn’t help doubting himself. “No, you’ll always have to cater to me but-” He held up his wrist, gestured toward it with his other hand as if explaining a complex diagram. It’d only be more egregious if he had a pointer on him. 

In an instant he squirmed out from underneath Edward and went toward the window, unclothed and perhaps more cavalier than he should have been. He didn’t even think about what he was doing, really. He tore the curtain down and pushed the blinds aside to look out. It was only the soft glow of morning, not direct sunlight really. It didn’t burn him ever but he didn’t particularly feel comfortable in it, how close to danger it was and how it made his eyes sore, forcing him to squint. At this hour is was more instinct to get somewhere dark that made it uncomfortable but he didn’t feel that fear now. He should have. He stared out, perhaps a bit too revealed in front of the window like that. It was just morning, it didn’t hurt, he didn’t need to squint. Light this dim wouldn’t burn him, that wasn’t it, it just shouldn’t feel anything less than threatening. His eyes should be tired looking into it, he should want to crawl into bed and sleep but he didn’t. He wanted to watch the sunrise.

[camaradcrie]

@tewwor​ asked:  “ perhaps i don’t say it enough, but… i’d like you to know that i’m always here, if you ever wanted to talk. ” ( hypnos / charon )

Hypnos sank down upon a soft, plush couch and let his body relax easily into it, heavy eyelids falling upon Charon as a sigh fell from his lips. He smiled, soft and warm. “Yes, Charon.” He acknowledged. “I know.” He didn’t feel a pressing weight to talk, comfortable as he was, content as he was, but Charon seemed to want him to. 

Hypnos stretched out an arm and lightly took his hand in his. “I made Zeus sleep,” he explained, “at the queen’s request. She’s plotting something for the war, I believe, the one between Troy and the Greeks. He’s a restless one, I can feel him tugging against it but I’ve got him down for a while.” A smile curled his lips and he tipped his head to the side, drew in a long, deep breath. “Won’t it be interesting to see how that ends?”

[camaradcrie]

@praenunti​ asked: ❝ i'm not staring at you, i'm admiring you. ❞ Eros to Dio also

Dionysus enjoyed playing with his appearance, enjoyed shifting into different looks, different presentations of himself, whether he looked human or not. Sometimes, he quite liked being a lion. It was often without thought, without intention, his features and body changing in the moment to suit him then. No matter what was changed he always looked like himself, somehow, even as a lion. It was impossible to place what it was that was distinctly Dionysus, what it was that transferred between each of his forms, but he’d be recognized whether Eros had seen him look that way before or not. 

That afternoon, his appearance seemed to be in constant flux, altering seamlessly between masculine and feminine as the day drew late while somehow still peaceful, still him, and he grinned at Eros’s special attention to it. “I like being admired by you,” he said, falling into Eros’s lap and pressing his lips to his, “It is fun to be many things at once.”

[camaradcrie]

@tewwor​ asked: “ we’re a good team, you know. “ ( hermes / charon )

The wings upon his sandals seemed almost to buzz, lifting him just a few inches off the ground as he smiled brightly at Charon. Hermes never minded the underworld, never minded the ferryman that so many mortals feared. Charon was far gentler than most gave him credit for. He preened at the compliment, how casually Charon said it. A shining Olympian befriending a deity bound to the Styx was an odd pair, but Hermes could only think of fond things to say of his quiet companion.

“I do know,” he said, his voice like bells. He passed Charon a fistful of coins as a group of shades found their way onto his boat. “And you do your job so well too, you know? Look at them all settled in! One of these days I think I’d like a ride on your boat, wouldn’t that be something?”

[camaradcrie]

@praenunti​ asked:  ❝ do you want your good luck kisses ? ❞ Eros to Dio lmao

Dionysus had done it and it seemed, somehow, that he was bigger for it. He had always been a powerful god but after throwing himself into the underworld, after dragging his mother from it and setting her before Zeus, he had already the power and standing that one would expect from an Olympian. He seemed more powerful. Whether that was just confidence or truly a change he couldn’t say but there was an air around him, one so much stronger than that of a young god barred from Olympus. He always said he would be there, one day. He always knew that he would. Now it was really happening, he was going before Hera and Zeus, and it could only be for one reason. It could only be to finally accept him, to offer him that twelfth seat he had craved for so long. 

He came to visit Eros before going to meet them, wanting to tell him about his recent adventure. About the slavers he cast into the ocean, about the underworld, about the mother that he’d only just properly met. Of course, about his meeting with the king and queen, too. He was ecstatic, glowing, and hopped around Eros’s palace free as a bird for what was to come next. 

“Yes,” he laughed aloud at that, “though I don’t need luck, I did it! I’m sure I did.” He bared a toothy grin then ran to press his lips hard against his, letting his weight fall against Eros and kicking his feet in the air behind him. “Kiss me for congratulations. I’ll have a palace there too. You have to visit me and meet my mother, you will, won’t you? You will.”