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@summertimebonaparte
►►►►► [ha haha hahaha]
Send me a ► if you'd fuck my muse.
springtimeantoinette said: //you can still change it even tho cosette is nothing like hera if anything aphrodite, man
idk i was thinking goddess of women and marriage and stuff like that... and she's the consort to zeus who's the most important god i guess and that makes her important and like she's the most important person to enjolras you feel?
but no i'm not going to change it
I’m a tough guy I only cried 4 times while making this
Les Mis Modern AU: Enjolras and Combeferre.
- Niels Schneider as the Chief
- James McAvoy as the Guide
Have you asked yourself what’s the price you might pay?
the word ‘happiness’ is too far away; I can’t reach it
Without a doubt, that fire in all its intensity it’s still there, lingering between them and stubbornly fighting for his existence. It won’t disappear and Grantaire is aware of it. He is incredibly angry at Enjolras, that hasn’t changed, but days -weeks- of frustration are floating to the surface to make the encounter even more difficult. Frustration. Frustration because Enjolras wants to see him humiliated for his own sick amusement. Frustration because despite his poor self-esteem he is too proud to do it. —Frustration because he hasn’t touched Enjolras in days and he longs for the other’s lips and touches and wonder if the blonde feels the same…
“Telling the truth isn’t humiliation,” he retorts and he is proud that his voice doesn’t sound broken. He wants to do it, though, he wants to give him his damn apology so they can get back together, so his body can claim his like the first time and his lips will find his with need, and lust, and love. Love… Seems long forgotten when Grantaire smirks and a note of irony causes his lips to curve. “Then you might want to take a seat,” he leans in, his lips oh, so close to Enjolras’ and yet so far from daring to touch them. “But you are right in something; I’m sorry —I’m sorry you are so stubborn.” Grantaire takes a deep breath. Shaky before he manages to let out a firm “I won’t beg.“
But it is humiliation when the truth is something that has been strung so carefully between them, guarded by Enjolras so violently and thrown into the open by Grantaire as if he were forsaking all that the Apollo has striven for. Will the Amis forsake them? Will they cast them aside in disgust and contempt for Grantaire's selfishness. And for what did he betray Enjolras? To prove a point? A point that could have been discussed in the safety and privacy of their rooms? All of this, and more, though he dared not admit that, even to himself, accounts for the heat that spreads through his chest and down his thighs, combating the warmth that emanates from the cynic's body, and it would be so easy to submit to that, to melt against him and give that forgiveness in the form of a kiss.
And suddenly, Grantaire's lips are a hair's breadth away from his own and he can feel his words skimming across the curve of his mouth. The temptation is too much: Enjolras closes those scarce inches between them and bites down unrelentlessly in a feral substitute for love. As suddenly as the punishment is enacted, Enjolras is filled with a regret that is only ever present with Grantaire. He should't have done that. He shouldn't have touched him in the first place. The warmth and solidity beneath his marble form would be he undoing. Nevertheless, Grantaire is wrong, though there's little surprise in that; he will beg, and Enjolras will have his apology.
When our ranks begin to form, will you take your place with me?
Ari frowned, the words sounded odd coming out of the French Man's mouth, not at all how she had intended them to be used. Looking away, she took a drag of her cigarette, the ash flickering red before going dark. "You seemed unusually . . . preoccupied was all." She shrugged as she turned her gaze back toward him. "I'm Ari by the way." She added, holding out her free hand for a handshake.
His gaze is scathingly icy, needlessly so, as he stares at the proffered hand for several long moments. The gods in all their glory have knitted his brows together as if he's nothing more than a puppet designed to flit around for their own entertainment, and Enjolras has no right to take his frustrations out on a stranger in the street. "My name is Enjolras," he says and takes her hand.
I am byesexual as in I’m not interested goodbye
Enjolras, Book IV (via incorrectlesmisquotes)
- Quiet Marius, I’m thinking of a plan to get out.
- No. No more plan. I’m too young to die.
- Marius -
- And I’m way too young to be in the same room than R and Enjolras having the sex.
- For God’s sake Pontmercy !