#pagingdrjoly

[littlebirdnamedjehan]

paging-dr-joly started following you

Jehan smiled at his friend. "Joly, there you are!" he told the other smiling. "How're you?"

[flowersandfrost-blog]

+ paging-dr-joly

"Ahh Monsieur Joly, always a pleasure mon ami."

[ask-jehan-p]

"No... No! I can't! You've seen my face! You need to die too now! No-one can know!" He shouted, waving the gun a bit between them causing Jehan to choke himself in his effort to get away from him. He was quickly hit over the head in punishment and dragged closer to the gunman. The grip on his neck was released only for his hair to bed grabbed instead and tugged back until it was resting on the man's shoulder, his neck exposed and the gun pressed to the soft flesh there, instead. His hands and feet were tied hastily with rope so he found it hard to stand on his own, his disgust and fear of the man behind him making him refuse to lean on him for support. The blow to the head had made him dizzy, disorientated, and he collapsed a couple of times only to be dragged up again by the hair. "He's mine now! You can't have him anymore!" Jehan's eyes widened and he tried to struggle again, whimpering in fear before he could help it. With the window open behind them, he realised that the man meant to take him with him when he left but, tied as he was, he wouldn't survive the fall if he was push or made to jump. He began to struggle again, earning another hit over the head for it which had him falling to his knees and no amount of pulling was going to get him standing again. "J-Joly..." He whispered, tears in his eyes as he tried to find and focus on his roommate. "I don't want to- please don't let him-!" He was roughly pulled back and the gun pressed to his forehead as the man stood over him, his fingers tightening in his hair as he stared down, his eyes half mad. Jehan's own petrified stare met his and the tears fell fresh down his cheeks.

[coldasiceboldasfire]

((While I’m taking drabble requests I have like 10 drafts of drabbles from like 4 months ago so if you guys still want it I can write it—??))

[poninethemessenger]

It's an Academic Start..||paging-dr-joly||

Éponine glared at the three large boxes at the bottom of the staircase as if it were a Texan shoot off. She sniffed, and plodded downstairs to pick another box up. She already had one up in her new dorm- now came the difficult task of three more trips back and forth up the stairs and right to the end of the corridor. Not that she was complaining. After all, she, Éponine Jondrette, (Well, Thenardier, but that's a different story) was an honour student taking the theatre and English literature course at the prestigious university where the majority of students were studying the country's top medical courses. Éponine felt slightly out of place, but this was the only university that would take her as a scholar. Still, they had a good enough course and Éponine was well on her way to becoming what she wanted to be; (she didn't know exactly what yet) But first she had to shift these damn boxes.

[ribbons-skirts-and-scars]

paging-dr-joly! We need you stat!

"Well hello there, m'sieur! Can I help you with anything? Maybe offer you a cup of tea of coffee? Or maybe an apple perhaps?" Alison asked, smiling at the visitor. 

[thexgamin-blog]

» paging-dr-joly

"Ey, Joly! Joly!" The street urchin dove towards the doctor, grabbing his coat tails as to get his attention. His eyes were bright with excitement. "'Ey, I got s'mthin' t'a show ya! C'mere!"

[voleur-montparnasse]

Ω

Montparnasse staggered forward slightly but remained on his feet, following the doctor into the apartment with his pistol pressed into the other man’s back. His free hand was currently putting pressure on a knife wound in his side, an attempt to slow the stream of blood flowing steadily from the hole left behind. “Come on, I don’t have all night,” he growled, prodding the man with the mouth of the gun. In a matter of minutes he was lying on the doctor’s dining room table, the gun wavering slightly as a needle pulled in and out of his skin, stitching up the deep wound in his side.

He must have blacked out, he thought, cursing himself as he woke up. Swallowing past the coppery taste of blood in his mouth, presumably from biting his lip too hard while he was being stitched up, he tried to sit up. The next two things that he realized were that one of his wrists was tied to a table leg and the gun was gone from his other hand. He rolled his eyes. Real surprising. Gritting his teeth, he dragged his right foot up the table, leaning up as far as he could to reach down the side of his boot. Lucky for him the good doctor hadn't searched him too thoroughly, but not so lucky for the other guy. He cut himself loose with the stiletto knife and swung his legs off the table. He moved as quickly as he could in his current state to the wall beside the door. It wasn't too long before the doctor reentered.

“Thought you’d patch me up and serve me to the police on a silver platter, did you?”