#hi-avery

[inkwell-intermission]

dame,,, in a suit,,,

dressed to the nines and kissing the eights (snowman)

[dreaminghigher]

i feel that anon abt joining late, i literally binged it 8 times in january im gonna so b

8 times?? Omg I feel you. You are so valid. The movie is amazing? And you've been making incredible art since then so it's like... a gift for us that you watched and decided to join us, you know what I mean? The fact that you're joining late is not a problem, I promise.

[mothgenes]

acryl,,, good,,,, im love he

youre valid who doesnt love this dummy

[pxrcivalgrxves]

Theseus was known throughout the entire school as a punk - what with his get up of pierced ears and leather jackets. They don't know much about him since he's usually avoided and he doesn't draw attention to himself for his own reasons. That is, until a fight breaks out in the hallway and it was one of the bullies he knew from way back as well as the principal's grandson, an honor student named Percival. He makes his way towards it, and rushing when he sees red on the kid on the floor, "Hey!"

Percival really should have seen it coming; it wasn’t unusual for him to be jumped when turning around corners, especially at lunch time. But he’d been wrapped up in his own thoughts about the fight with his father that morning, so he hadn’t been paying attention until it was too late. 

The bully, another senior, had knocked Percival too the ground before he had the chance to even cry out. Percival yelped and fell and grazed his jaw on the ground, and attempted to struggle away. 

@th-seus

[decayingliberty]

Courfius - "I'm sick of being USELESS!" :>

Thank you! I’m sorry this took so long.

Send me a pairing and a line.

Marius is missing.

If missing is defined as being gone without prior notice, then he is definitely missing, but if missing is defined as being absent without explanation, then Marius is just gone.

Courfeyrac does not like this option. If he convinces himself that circumstances have prevented Marius from returning to their apartment, he can cope. As long as he ignores the cancelled lease on the kitchen table and Marius’ key on the hook and the empty spots on the shelves that leave the apartment somehow unfinished…

Courfeyrac cannot, refuses, to process this, because it does not make sense, no matter how much he twists and turns this, no matter how he looks at it, he cannot find an explanation. It is not logical. Courfeyrac has found a single note tucked to the magnets on the fridge, not a proper explanation, only eleven words in a familiar handwriting; a note he now knows by heart.

Thank you for letting me stay. I’ll be leaving now. Farewell.

He has planned this, Courfeyrac is sure of it but even if he replays every interaction they had in the past weeks, he finds no clues that would have warned him. Somehow, Courfeyrac has failed in his pursuit for Marius’ friendship.

He pulls out his phone and dials Marius’ number.

It rings but with every beep, Courfeyrac feels his heartbeat increase and the words from the note echo in his head relentlessly. He tries to calm himself but it is no use. Then, Marius finally picks up.

“Hello, Courfeyrac.”

And Courfeyrac cannot speak. He fears that if he does, he will start to cry, but he would not be Courfeyrac if he does not try anyway. He swallows the lump in his throat and wills his vocal chords form words.

“Marius,” he says and it sounds choked, pathetic. “Where are you?”

“Are you all right?” Marius asks without an answer. It is a sincere inquiry but Courfeyrac still feels enraged by it.

“If I’m all right? What about you? Why are you leaving?” He is tearing up now.

“No, no, Courf, don’t cry.”

“How can you ask if I’m all right? Of course I’m not. You’re leaving without any word!”

“I’m sorry,” Marius says as if he has not expected this level of emotional distress from Courfeyrac, and maybe he has not. Courfeyrac wipes his tears angrily.

“My grandfather has offered me a place in his company. He wants me to work there.”

This is wrong. Marius dislikes his grandfather’s company. How could he accept this offer? This is not the Marius who moved in with him.

“I thought you were estranged,” Courfeyrac says.

“We are. But, Courf—” Marius takes a deep breath — “It’s my chance to be independent.”

“By working for your grandfather?”

“He only pays my salary.”

“You were independent here, too. You had an apartment, a job.”

Courfeyrac will fight for this. It is a selfish thought but he finally has found something he wants to hold onto. He will not let this go, whatever this is, whatever they are.

“It was your apartment. You paid more than half the rent.”

“No, Marius —”

“Don’t. I can finally do something on my own,” Marius says with surprising firmness. “Don’t — don’t try to talk me out of it. I’m sick of being dependent, I’m sick of being useless.”

Something is choking the air out of his body, making it hard to breathe and hard to talk.

“You’re not useless,” Courfeyrac whispers. It is all he can manage.

“You were very kind to me. I won’t overstay my welcome.”

“It’s not kindness if it’s your home.”

“It’s not my home any more. I’m sorry.”

But Courfeyrac is not giving up. “Where? Where are you going?” he asks and clings to the phone, pretending that if he holds onto the device hard enough he might turn this situation in his favour, even if he cannot change Marius’ mind. It is a childish thought.

“Courf —”

“If it’s close, we can visit you. I can visit you, can’t I?”

“You can’t.”

“Why not?!”

“My grandfather’s conditions.”

“Is he blackmailing you?”

Marius laughs. It is more of a cold bark than his usual quiet laugh and Courfeyrac feels the ice crawling in his veins.

“Perhaps,” says Marius. “But it’s better this way.”

“No, Marius, it’s not. We can help you, if you just come back! I promise, your grandfather will not harm you.”

“Courfeyrac,” Marius says and his tone is gentle.

“Yes?” And Courfeyrac hates how hopeful he sounds, hates the childish naivety that bubbles up in his chest and how his heart flutters in anticipation.

“I never had a friend like you. Thank you for everything you did for me.”

“No, please —”

“Farewell.”

The line goes dead.

[paintingraves]

hi-avery a réagi à votre billet “I need silliness to save all the angst. Imagine a hot summer day in...”

*pterodactyl screech* mooooOOORE ;A;

Percival wakes up first. He is the comfiest he has ever been in a long time, and as he slowly blinks sleep back from his eyes he realizes he has never left the office. And his pillow is moving. 

Theseus’ arm slips from around his shoulders as Percival sits up slowly. The both of them are still in their work clothes, although Theseus had the presence of mind to divest them both of their vests and ties. Theseus makes a small noise in his throat and rolls over when Percival’s presence leaves him, and it makes something big and warm swell in Percival’s chest, makes him smile before he realizes he’s doing it. 

“Wake up, sleepy head,” he leans down to murmur in Theseus’ ear. “Thes.” 

Theseus grunts, eyelashes fluttering as he opens his eyes, messy red curls falling on his forehead. Percival’s heart is beating fast, his eyes drop to Theseus’ lips, and he never wants to leave this place. 

Theseus places his hand on Percival’s cheek and says, “Percival.” 

He doesn’t know who makes the first move. Only that they meet halfway and Theseus’ lips are on his, chapped but extremely soft and caring, and Percival feels like crying as they kiss. 

[asknewt]

Mister Scamander! One does like to wonder - what it's like growing up with an older brother and could you describe your childhood home? (Hi Cal!!!)

Growing up with an older brother was an annoyance, really.  Always kept me from my plans, like visits to the forest at school.  Or making friends with the squid.  Protective, very protective.  I may have been a bit hard on him for that.

And my home is… well, most would likely find it unusual.

(Lol, Hi, Avery! see what I did there XD )

[vivalamusaine]

"Holy shit, you're real." with Fallen Angel Enjoltaire?

Okay I’m not the best at this story arc/trope so please forgive me if this isn;t what you wanted <3

He had always associated Enjolras with falling.

Falling head over heels, falling sideways just to see him, falling in love. 

It was only fitting that he had found him here. Fallen.

Although fallen was perhaps not the best choice of words. Enjolras had clearly been here for a long time. His skin was freezing upon contact. It was hard for Grantaire to understand what he was seeing. It was all so surreal, but he was not questioning it. After all, how many times had he compared Enjorlas to an angel?

“Holy shit,” Grantaire whispered, despite the fact that Enjolras unconscious and could not hear him. “You’re real.”

Shrugging off his coat, Grantaire wrapped it around Enjolras’ bare back, only pausing briefly to look in awe and in a strange way even admire the cruel markings on his back. It was as though the wings had been pulled straight from his blades, leaving nothing but two ugly and large scars on the top of his back. 

He was grateful for the darkness that surrounded them as he lifted Enjolras into his arms. He was so much lighter to lift than what was humanly possible, and as he begun to walk back towards his home, he couldn’t help but look down onto the face that he’d always admired, always venerated, always loved. 

He wasn’t human. He was other-worldly. He was ethereal. Grantaire had believed all of these things before he had had proof. 

Enjolras’ eyes slowly began to flutter open. Grantaire felt an uncomfortable knowledge clutch at his chest. This was not a secret he was supposed to know. There were many that Enjolras trusted above him.

“R?” Enjolras asked softly as his eyes became focused, his voice not quite there yet.

“Don’t move too much.” Grantaire replied, attempting to keep his own voice steady and his face stoic. As though he hadn’t just stumbled upon the most incredible thing in his life. “I’m taking you home.”

Enjolras closed his eyes tightly. He seemed to be in great pain, and this too hit Grantaire hard. 

“I tried to go home.” Enjolras whispered, his lips were trembling. “I thought I was ready. They still don’t want me.”

“I know how that feels.”Grantaire said quietly. He fell silent for a moment, focusing on his steps. “It might not be home, but you’ll always have a place with me.”

Maybe it was his imagination, or the uncomfortable way the chill snapped at his arms, but Grantaire could have sworn he felt Enjolras hold onto him tighter after that.