The Stain of Darkness

A lugubrious being was Montparnasse. Montparnasse was a child; less than twenty years of age, with a handsome face, lips like cherries, charming black hair, the brilliant light of springtime in his eyes; he had all vices and aspired to all crimes. The digestion of evil aroused in him an appetite for worse. [ Independent RP - Les Miserables ] Please note that there will be triggers on this blog. Please read the About page before interacting--this is a different take on the character of Montparnasse.

[a-reckless-rosette]

For the record, this is Éponine making fun of Montparnasse when he’s not around — and then getting caught. Nobody will tell me otherwise.

[xtelumendil]

Friendly reminder that my Skype is available upon request to mutual followers if you wanna plot or chat or whatever. ★~(◡‿◕✿)

[nemorinwithcherrylips]

Self-Invited || Open

[achilleio]

'Yes, what a name indeed,' he replied a little smile on his face. This mysterious man held something over him, he could feel that, see it already, something in his sweet, deadly eyes. There was something incredibly dangerous about the man and the way in which he held himself, suave and self-assured.

     ‘I see. I suppose that does make some kind of sense, but why not introduce yourself, or is there a reason you do not?’ He was interested and for good reason, he liked to unwarp the mysteries of the world and Montparnasse was one of them. He sat back, glanced at his friends and then looked back to the dark-haired stranger in front of him.

     ‘Though I cannot promise you will find more entertainment here.’

[nemorinwithcherrylips]

"There is a reason," Montparnasse answered easily, leaning back in his seat and crossing both his arms and legs, making himself as comfortable as he pleased. "Quite a few of them, in fact. Of course, I don't intend to share those with you either. It's complicated, you understand."

He grinned, a lazy sort of expression in which he did not bother to even open his eyes fully. "I'd be happy enough to give you a fake name, if you'd like," he added. "I have quite a few of them. Funny the things that people choose to collect, isn't it?"

[nemorinwithcherrylips]

Sticky Fingers

[logicisthebestmedicine-deactiva]

Combeferre smiled as he watched Théodore nod before making some notes on a piece of paper, ready to move into the backroom. He disappeared for a few minutes, and Combeferre stood, moving in front of Montparnasse. 

He reached out, putting two graceful fingers under the other’s chin and raising it up a little, regarding him with a small frown. He nodded, and when Théodore returned, he said, “Green shirt. Black jacket. Black trousers, and the cravat should be purple. The coat should be purple too.”

"The coat?” Théodore repeated, looking amused at the new addition as Combeferre withdrew his hand and stepped toward the desk, counting out coins. “Very well.”

[nemorinwithcherrylips]

Montparnasse peered at Combeferre curiously, but he allowed his head to be lifted. He said to himself that he was allowing it only because Combeferre was giving him gifts.

It was true enough. Or at the very least, he believed it was true enough.

He pieced the outfit together in his mind as Combeferre spoke. He smiled to himself only once the student had moved away and turned his gaze to other things. Purple. A regal color. He was quite pleased, more so than he liked to let on.

[nemorinwithcherrylips]

I want the K -

1: Hot, Steamy kiss

Montparnasse normally had something to say at all times. He was more than happy at nearly any given moment to listen to the sound of his own voice. Today was different. Today words felt as though they didn’t mean as much, and he didn’t want to waste them, trying to pretend he had anything to say. He was pretty certain Éponine was mid-sentence (in truth, he had not been paying particularly close attention at the time) when he reached out, his hand finding the back of her neck before he pulled her close, seeming determined to bruise her lips with his own.

[filledeunloup-deactivated201403]

She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she rolls on her stomach. “Fuck no. That’s not something I want.” But, was she really being honest with herself? She never really thought that anyone really, could fall in love with someone like her. So she never really hoped for that.

She couldn’t deny it, she definitely did care for him.

She didn’t want this to end, really. And, she also knew that he probably wouldn’t last that long without her. Maybe she should end whatever this was, just to see how long he could actually last without her.

"Fine then. We can end this."

[nemorinwithcherrylips]

In truth, it isn't the answer he was expecting. Maybe it ought to have been, considering he had invited it, but it wasn't. He's angry, really. He doesn't show it; his expression does not flinch in the slightest. He is an actor, after all. Hiding his true emotions in favor of others is something he has done all his life.

But he is angry. It seems a foolish response. It is better this way, easier to keep himself distant, and yet... It makes him angry that she would let him go so easily.

She'd hardly taken the time to think before she'd answered. She had reacted as though she would not miss him in the slightest.

And so be it, he decides. He does not spare her a goodbye before he leaves.

[nemorinwithcherrylips]

+ jehandefleurs

[prouvairxeyys-deactivated201411]

Basile looked beautiful in the flickering light of the candles and Jehan couldn’t help but touch him, his skin was smooth and with his eyes closed he looked even more cherubic than the young man thought could ever have been possible. If there was a man that Grantaire should have painted and Jehan should have written odes to and sonnets for, well, Basile was definitely it.

     Jehan’s thumb rested in the dip of the other’s throat for a moment before he let his hand fall down. He drank a little more, set his glass down and moved to take a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, leaving the packet beside him on the bed, a silent offer to the other man.

     Then he moved again, leaning back against the wall, legs crossed and a smile on his face. Jehan was beautiful, too, his cheekbones sharpened in the dimness, his hair seemed darker and, all in all, he looked more forlorn, sadder. But sadness was glorious on Jehan, it fit him like a glove.

     ’Come sit with me,’ he said, breathing in the smoke before blowing it slowly from his lips. ‘Tell me more.’

[nemorinwithcherrylips]

Montparnasse was perhaps a bit disappointed when Jehan's hand left his skin, and his eyes cracked open into little blue slivers as he watched the poet from beneath his lashes. He was feral, but momentarily tamed, and his expression was softened.

He was rather struck by the poet, when he looked at him again. It surprised him. Montparnasse did not often care for beauty in others. Tonight he made an exception. He felt no need to compare himself to this man. He wore enough vanity that he could hate someone for the very qualities he prided himself in. Perhaps the knowledge that he was the last person who would ever get to enjoy Jehan's features left it easier for him to accept them.

He moved closer, just a little too close, really, so that they brushed against one another very lightly.

"I wasn't completely alone as a boy," he began, starting in his youth because it seemed the easiest. "There were others like me, of course. Children without parents; without homes. I had friends. I wonder about them sometimes, because I left them, all of them, without a word. Maybe I was selfish even as a child."

[prouvairxeyys-deactivated201411]

You've got a housemate || hostage au

[prouvairxeyys-deactivated201411]

He watched Montparnasse with an intensity he had only ever looked at Grantaire with, a strange mix of admiration and irritation. He said nothing in reply to the other man and only continued to watch. He was pleased when the wire was cut away and immediately began to rub the red marks on his wrists. He could have leaned down to yank at the wire that bound his feet but he figured he’d come to that when he needed to piss, or needed to eat. 

     ’Did you do it?’ he asked. Jehan was nowhere near as afraid of Montparnasse as he should have been, he wondered really if the man would kill him. His absence from daily life would no doubt bring his friends knocking at his door, a few of them even had keys. 

     His rolled his wrists and stuck his legs out straight, giving a sniff as his eyes moved around the place. 

     ’Well. Make yourself at home, I suppose.’

[nemorinwithcherrylips]

Montparnasse finally seemed satisfied that he had a good understanding of the way the house was laid out. More importantly, of course, he was satisfied that he would be able to tell if Jehan was trying to escape. This did not prompt him to unbind the man's feet, however. The less Jehan could move, the easier it was to make certain he could not do anything stupid.

The question, however, brought a slow smile to Montparnasse's lips. There was nothing warm in his expression, and his eyes shone with a dark sort of pride. "--I did."

 With this confession, he seated himself near Jehan, finally relaxed now that he had reassured himself of his safety.

[thatcrucialromanticflair]

"Ah, yes, I would like to!" Jehan says sweetly, softly, offering a warm beam. He offers the other his hand to shake. "My name is Jehan Prouvaire!" He exclaims swiftly enough, beaming brightly. 

"What is your name?" The question was asked politely, and he remained scanning over Montparnasse’s face, his clothes, his fingers. How terribly pretty this man was!

[nemorinwithcherrylips]

Montparnasse accepts the hand which is offered to him, although in truth he is unused to simple gestures. People tend not to shake his hand for fear they will come away missing some small possession or another. "Good to meet you then, Prouvaire."

Montparnasse took notice of the way the poet's eyes continued over him, and he felt quite smug for it. "Montparnasse," he replied. "Or rather, that's what you will call me."

[nemorinwithcherrylips]

"You forgiveness is all that I need..."

Forgiveness.

What a thing to ask for. Something he certainly did not give freely or often. In truth, it was not often that he had to forgive -- he expected the worst from everyone, and it was no surprise to him when he received it.

Except for her.

He constantly expected the best from her. He looked at her and he knew her to be the best of everything; she was unlike anyone in his life.

"... And if I said I wouldn't give it?" He didn't know why he'd asked the question. In truth, he knew he wanted to forgive her. To refuse would be to lose her, and there was no situation in which forcing her away would make him happy. And still he'd said what was likely to hurt her. He could not tell himself his reasons. He didn't know them.

[nemorinwithcherrylips]

"I don't think we're allowed in here."

A slow grin spread across Montparnasse's lips and he turned to the blonde, looking a little too satisfied. "We're not," he answered easily, completely unashamed.

"You're welcome to leave, of course. I know how rich boys like to follow the rules."

[nemorinwithcherrylips]

"That wasn't me."

Montparnasse cocked a skeptical eyebrow at that. "Fairly quick to deny; I hadn't even asked you yet," he pointed out, still looking over the ruined vest. One of his favorites, of course. Or it had been.

"Of course it's good that it wasn't you -- I've killed men for less."

[styleandrhythm]

Okay but a Hunger Games AU in which Valjean is a victor, okay?

And before his name was drawn, he’d had to keep his family fed so he nicked some food

but he never (technically) had to face punishment for it because just after, he went into the Games

and when he comes back a victor, the Peacekeepers can’t really touch him because he’s won the Games and the people must have their victor.

Of course it doesn’t sit right with Javert that anyone should be above the law, and he spends years watching him to see if he’ll slip again. He is unsympathetic to the argument that having to go through the Games and watch twenty-three children die, some of them at Valjean’s own hands, is punishment enough. It is unrelated to Valjean’s crime, and while it is unfortunate, it does not absolve him.

Years later Fantine, a girl too young to be a mother, but a mother none the less, suddenly finds herself having to provide alone for her child, so she enters her name extra times in exchange for more food for the first time, giving the food to the family she’s left her daughter with.

Valjean is her mentor, but Fantine dies in the games, so he takes in her daughter Cosette, knowing that with the benefits he has as a victor, he can take better care of her.

But then when Cosette is older, her own name is drawn, and Valjean knows that no matter what, he can’t let her go. He cannot let Cosette see what he’s seen and do what he’s done. He takes her, and he runs. Flees the district completely.

He has finally committed a crime that even a victor cannot be pardoned from.

[nemorinwithcherrylips]

I have to leave for work, but I'm planning to work on my replies tonight. So far as I know, I owe

logicisthebestmedicine

filledeunloup

jehandefleurs

thatcrucialromanticflair

and a couple of meme replies that I didn't notice.

Let me know if I've missed you.

[predulcis--archive-deactivated2]

                           i.  independent rp for the almost canon sister of Grantaire.

                ii.  les mis fandom;  selective.

                                            iii. active since December 2013.

              iv. 5 years of roleplaying experience 

                                     v.  i ship chemistry ; which is a must for sure.

       iv. A sucker for multi-para & novella styled threads.

                                                                                                            ;index                                                                                                             ;rules                                                                                                             ;ask

[nemorinwithcherrylips]

Fourteen Sketchy Lines

1. "Don't ask questions."

2. "You don't want to do that."

3. "This isn't what you think it is."

4. "That wasn't me."

5. "Please tell me that's you..."

6. "Is that supposed to do that?"

7. "Do you hear/smell/feel/see/taste that?"

8. "I don't think this is right."

9. "Are you sure about this?"

10. "I don't think we're allowed in here."

11. "This doesn't seem safe."

12. "Have you been going through my items..?"

13. "This isn't where I left this."

14. "I know what I'm doing."

[nemorinwithcherrylips]

Send my muse one of the following! (apologetic muse version)

"I'm sorry... Forgive me?"

"I- I never meant to!"

"What?! B- but... That was me..."

"I slipped up... I'm sorry..."

"Believe me! I'm sorry!"

"You forgiveness is all that I need..."

"I never intended to!"

"Yes... It's my fault entirely..."

"Just look at me and accept my apology! Please?..."

[nemorinwithcherrylips]

I just really wanted to post this somewhere because I was teasing about who Bahorel would end up married to all to enjoy a certain someone's distress and this was the response I received.

collisioninscarlet: fuck u he married beyonce