larevoluticn-blog

[larevoluticn-blog]

minor update: i’ve been getting uni stuff ready (semester starts within the week) so i’ve been super busy, but i’ll be getting back into my replies within the next few days!

[larevoluticn-blog]

CITIZENS   ——  whatever  happens  to-day  ,  through  our  defeat  as  well  as  through  our  victory  ,  it  is  a    REVOLUTION    that  we  are  about  to  create.  as  conflagrations  light  up  a  whole  city  ,  so  revolutions  illuminate  the  whole    HUMAN RACE.

                                                      ——  independent  ENJOLRAS.                                                    from victor hugo’s LES MISÉRABLES.

[larevoluticn-blog]

       FIVE ADORABLE/PRECIOUS THINGS    { THE REDUX }

   repost, don’t reblog! and tell your followers five adorable headcanons about your muse, then tag five people to see what cute things their muses do.

tagged by: @heartsmelody ( ty love ! ) tagging: @arcanemistrust @amccra @applebled @pharsalian @bonhcmme

01. enjolras’ absolute favourite colour is red. if there is an option to buy something in red, he will always get it. this leads to him having multiple pairs of red socks, red hats, even, in modern AU, an embarrassingly bright red suit that he never has the opportunity to wear (but secretly wishes to). 

02. as someone who, naturally, does everything exceptionally well (as certain people are prone to) and thus is dissatisfied when he does not do a thing well (let’s not even talk about the fear of failure that a person who exceeds at everything can get), and as someone who is a virgin, even without having kissed someone before, this amalgamation creates an interesting effect upon enjolras. there was once upon a time a young, poor woman that enjolras had helped and in thanks she offered the only thing she could give: a woman’s kiss. enjolras promptly refused and requested nothing in return. in truth, there was a slight fear in the back of his mind that, as a man who had gone so long without learning how to properly kiss (as though there were some logical way to go about it), it would be painfully obvious how amateur he was. tl;dr - he has worried about being a bad kisser, as any person with virgin lips might be.

03. (modern au) enjolras enjoys listening to rap music, which tends to shock those who discover it. he is a firm believer that rap can be a poetic medium and include important moral messages. enjolras himself has tried his hand at rapping when he was younger, resulting in very embarrassing videos that he has since wiped (hopefully) from any and all computers - and his memory.

04. (modern au) he is a big fan of the original star trek series, claiming it to be a “revolutionary show for its time”, with great respect paid to the variety of nationalities on the show, and its progressive nature. really, he’s just a huge nerd who has to justify his guilty nerd pleasures with some political agenda.

05. there are two things that enjolras does not know, at all, how to handle: failure, and children. enjolras knows very well how to handle adults. he has very many things to discuss with adults, he presumes to know how adults think, what adults want. but a child? what does a child think? what does a child want? they baffle him, and he views them as entirely spontaneous beings. as such, enjolras is exceptionally awkward around children - a rare sight for the passionately confident Spartan-like leader.

[larevoluticn-blog]

amccra:

          before she even had a chance to cross the cobbled way, she was pulled back by the sound of his voice; POLITELY she gives him an appreciative nod, unable to really tell if he was joking or not. He may not have been a political  figure, but at least he stood for polices worth fighting for. And that in itself was an ENDEARING quality to posses.

‘   even if you are not—–you SPEAK like one, and carry the burdens of democracy upon your shoulders. You also seem to speak to people so easily, even awaken them to reality .    ’   eyes flicker to the pamphlet, a little reluctant to take it for her own, but she reached for it, reading the title and a few of the beginning sentiments.

      ‘ 𝓐waken them  to  reality ’  said  she.  the  words  hovered  about  him  for  a  moment  more  after  they  had  been  spoken , as  though  they  were  of  some  importance , and  as  they  faded , enjolras  came to  a  solid  resolution.  he  realized , to  this  end , as  his  eyes  regarded  the  carriage  behind  her  in  its  resplendent  glory, the  atmosphere  about  her  that  may  almost intimidate  a  man  by  her  beauty  and  wealth —— he  realized  that  although  she  were  clearly  of  an  upperclass , she  had  the  MINDSET OF A REVOLUTIONARY.  such  a  coinciding  of  effects  could  be  very  useful. he  became  resolute , and  it  showed  in  the  confidence  lining  his  voice.  ❝  you  should  join  us  at  le  café  musain  this  evening.  ❞

      he  would  not  presume  to  know  whether  she  could  read  or  not ; even  some  women  of  the  upperclass , privileged  as  they  were , did  not  deem  it  a  thing  they  should  know  to  do. judging  by  what  he  perceived  to  be  the  odd  pronunciation  of  a  french  word  every  so  often , enjolras  did , however , presume  that  she  was  not , at  least , naturally  of  france. ❝  you  may  keep  it  so  that  you may  come  BETTER  ACQUAINTED  with  what  we  are  trying  to  do , or  if  you  do  happen  at  the   café , it  is  there  that  i  will  be  able  to  explain  it  more  thoroughly , and  with  ease , if  one  desires  to  listen.   ❞

[larevoluticn-blog]

CITIZENS   ——  whatever  happens  to-day  ,  through  our  defeat  as  well  as  through  our  victory  ,  it  is  a    REVOLUTION    that  we  are  about  to  create.  as  conflagrations  light  up  a  whole  city  ,  so  revolutions  illuminate  the  whole    HUMAN RACE.

                                                      ——  independent  ENJOLRAS.                                                    from victor hugo’s LES MISÉRABLES.

[larevoluticn-blog]

CITIZENS   ——  whatever  happens  to-day  ,  through  our  defeat  as  well  as  through  our  victory  ,  it  is  a    REVOLUTION    that  we  are  about  to  create.  as  conflagrations  light  up  a  whole  city  ,  so  revolutions  illuminate  the  whole    HUMAN RACE.

                                                      ——  independent  ENJOLRAS.                                                    from victor hugo's LES MISÉRABLES.

[larevoluticn-blog]

still finishing up on updating the new theme, so replies might have to wait until tomorrow-ish !!

[larevoluticn-blog]

heartsmelody:

        though it had been a thing naught more simple than birdsong which had stirred morning’s restlessness, whose once-soft crooning had seemingly turned to cries  —-  those that carried within them the echoes of passing nightmares, the hoarse-throated screams through which the dreadful hours of the dark all too often passed so that even simple songbird might give the barest reminder, a touch of recognition to spectres that had yet to truly leave the young man’s mind  —-  it was now with a purpose greater than mere nature’s that had truly brought marius to his feet, that borne by swift-given letter that could not pass faster beneath his eyes, beneath unsteady fingers.  in the sudden swiftness with which he had attempted to move, he had nearly made the messenger-boy frightened for his sake, still finding ground beneath his feet  ( that which he had once stepped over with far too much confidence, dare he believe that he had carried too much hope in its steadiness? )  all too unyielding, unstable.

        nothing if not true of heart, and knowing of the pains which had been caused to his own, cosette  —-  she who had been his only comfort, and he who had become hers, been bound by shared losses, by the rings which now graced both of their fingers  —-  had clasped the arm of her young husband, had, perhaps, forseen the wrenching of his heart to come, how it would seize, start at the sight of a familiar face, one that both had long-expected would only pass into heaven rather than back upon earth, into the arms of convent’s faithful sisters.  he had little expected such a miracle as their missive proposed, could hardly believe the words as they had been written, as though “it could be naught but a miracle” which had awoken fallen revolutionary from his slumber.

        however, it was no letter which might have prepared either man for the sight of each other’s face, no words could have braced marius’ heart enough for its sudden pains, its stuttering of disbelief even as darkened features were clearly those he had once known, those that he had stood beside as they had been painted in scarlet, in the blood of a cause they had believed to be noble, to be true, yet had nevertheless fallen, tumbled about bold barricade in a rubble of disheartened dreams, abandoned beliefs.  god, how marius himself has changed  —-  even now, his awareness of such is painfully, wretchedly obvious, held within the stick beneath his palm, the darkness to the clothes about his shoulders, the painted hues of purple beneath eyes that belie one too many sleepless nights  —-  and how little enjolras seems to have, face once more awash in crimson wounds.  the expression that it holds, however, is one starkly unfamiliar, one previously unknown to marius  —-  indeed, it would likely have been one alien even to any of fallen comrades, for once it had been never permitted upon even one of their own  —-  one that enjolras had once so sought to keep from their faces, had fought away with fiery words, words of passion:  defeat.

        he cannot say anything, cannot speak but for words that lodge in his throat, that will not allow anything but a breath to pass between his lips, no tone upon his tongue.  what could there even be to say?

      𝓘f it were not for the FOOLISH ATTEMPT , at first moment of awareness , of forcing his unready , days-unused body out of the bed during those earlier hours of his first-awoken confusion , enjolras might have had the ability to say more , TO DO MORE —— but all he could do was LOOK. any more and his body would ring in pain , cry wet red tears through the wounds he had reopened. it was as though his body were reminding him : oh , you FOOL ! you wretch ! you have done it again !   you have PUSHED TOO FAR !

      ‘ they had almost healed ,’ one of the sisters had been sure to tell him. had they ? enjolras questioned himself ; it did not feel as though he had healed at all. there was a deeper , more painful wound than those on the surface , and he did not know if there was any healing at all to be done there. and so he looked , at his last-living friend , he who had been his brother-in-arms , MARIUS ; he looked with all he could muster , at that man , that boy , and he saw that he had bestowed upon his friend the very same wound he had tore upon himself. the wave of immense guilt , unutterable sorrow , that washed over him crushed his vocal chords to a BROKEN SILENCE , his voice awash in the tumultuous sea of emotions. like a sailor overboard, from which plank was he to latch onto ? FROM WHICH WORDS could enjolras hope to cling to ? all were swirling around him , there , in his mind —— but all too fast , TOO FAR , to grasp. 

      IT WAS THEN that enjolras felt that he was weeping—— not the uncontrollable , loud cries of a man in pain , but the soft , unaware , wide-eyed tears of a man who has lost everything and is mystified at the fact. marius’ image before him became blurred, yet his presence only SHARPENED itself to enjolras’ senses. HE IS HERE. HE IS ALIVE , they said.   HE IS ALIVE.   just as the sight of a boat on the horizon gives a stranded sailor the will to cling to life, that assurance gave enjolras the strength to clutch at words amidst the sea of emotions engulfing him.

      ❝ —— . . . all of this . . . it is my fault. i believed. . . i believed that paris would —— that the PEOPLE would —— ❞ still , it was too difficult to limit himself to just one thought , one collection of comprehensible words to say , so he gave up , and settled for what he deemed most important to make audibly known. ❝ i am . . . ❞ a pause. enjolras found that he could hardly bare to look marius in the eye , and closed his own in defeat. ❝ I AM TRULY SORRY. ❞

[larevoluticn-blog]

Although I am typically a loner in daily life, my consciousness of belonging to the invisible community of those who strive for truth, beauty and justice has preserved me from feeling isolated.

Albert Einstein (via themindmovement)

[larevoluticn-blog]

amccra:

      her french was RUSTY, but she could make out the CAUSE of those who stood above the crowd. the UNITED cheers poured from every man and occasional woman who set foot and stood to listen. the people were RISING, fighting for independence and yet, the eyes she met as she departed her carriage were those of BRAVERY.

      SHE valued such freedom of speech, to a girl from a place where such freedoms had been granted a mere century or three ago, she couldn’t help but sweep further to the front to better understand and LISTEN.

       ‘  you speak so cleverly—loudly, but full of hope. I just wanted you know that.  ’  she spoke off hand, giving the stranger a nod so as she could head back to her awaiting carriage, once she saw that the crowd started to thin out after the rally had finished. 

                ——-starter //  @larevoluticn

     𝓐fter having hopped down from the makeshift podium ( of which was merely the stone pedestal for one of the grand white columns , erected behind where the young revolutionary stood ) enjolras turned to offer the newcomer his regularly austere countenance , though with a hint of the HUMBLED , as a compliment is inclined to make even the STONIEST of men smile the slightest of smiles in gratitude. perhaps it would have been of politeness , if enjolras were forced to follow the customs of SOCIAL ETIQUETTE rather than ABHOR it.

      ❝  MADEMOISELLE ,  ❞  he began , pristine blue eyes shining with embers of a FIRE he had only recently doused ; they looked her up and down , as though she were an ABNORMAL SIGHT to see amongst the common rabble of his rallies.  ❝ CLEVERNESS is something reserved for the POLITICIANS. i would hope to speak HONESTLY , stating mere facts rather than to be clever. perhaps — ❞ he moved towards her with some sense of urgency , a peculiar pamphlet in his hand as he extended it out.  ❝  — you might be interested in our cause ? ❞

[larevoluticn-blog]

@heartsmelody liked for a starter !

     ❛𝓣was the early morning cheer of birds that stirred the young revolutionary’s slumber , of which had extended DAYS since he had been brought to the church’s ever-welcoming doors , and just as welcoming inhabitants . there had been a woman , well-endowed in age and gentleness , dressed as a sister of god ; it was this woman who had informed him of his deep sleep , and of the MIRACULOUS recovery from his wounds , that they were now prescribing to the good work of GOD HIMSELF . the woman was too kind , and enjolras , at once , imagined the trouble she and her fellow servants of the faith would be brought into for harbouring a man such as he . A FAILURE . for , in his singular case , he seemed to fail not only for himself , but on behalf of those around him just as equally , if not more.

     his good friends —— NOW DEAD . it was this thought which pervaded his simultaneously exhausted yet restless mind ; restless in reminding him of the destruction he had wreaked , the TRAGEDY he had caused . how many MOTHERS had dined without a son these past few nights ? how many EMPTY CHAIRS filled the auditoriums of the school ? of the cafe ? had not a single one survived ?

     with a stifled groan - for even alone , enjolras did not enjoy displaying vulnerability , as habit - he lifted himself just an inch more ( an inch was all he could bare ) so that he might be seated more comfortably in the upright position against the iron bedhead , separated from his bandaged torso by a feather pillow . HE WAS A MESS . as he looked down at his BLOOD-STAINED wraps , his SHAKING HANDS that he now moved in front of him , he wondered , with utmost sincerity and seriousness —— if this is TRULY the work of GOD . . . is this , then , some form of DIVINE PUNISHMENT . . . for what i have done ?

[larevoluticn-blog]

My child, there is no happiness without courage nor virtue without struggle.

Jean-Jacques Rousseau

[larevoluticn-blog]

starter for @arcanemistrust

     𝓢ilence —— with head turned aside , listening for some sign , some TELLING of his pursuers , enjolras heard only one thing besides the taxed panting of his own ragged breath & the THUMP THUMP THUMP-ing in his own ear : silence . an old friend of the studious man , enjolras was at once relieved to be reunited with it . no one had followed him this far into the forest . probably figured he would perish without need of them ; the fools , for underestimating the young revolutionary who was not yet ready to die , of whom still remained with FEROCITY in his heart & IDEALS in his head . these things had been enough to keep him alive up until now —— but now , like sand through an hourglass , enjolras could sense his time slipping away , his breath thinning , his vision blurring . could his belief , alone , permit him to survive such wounds ?

     as though an ANSWER to the question , enjolras’ body forced him into a side-splitting cough . the expulsion of blood from between trembling lips seeped between his fingers , tainting his already red coat with a DARKER shade . most of the coat was the darker shade of red , now . with PAIN gripping at his mind , enjolras found it near impossible to think straight anymore . the adrenaline rush was subsiding . the power of his own will was subsiding .

     the last thing he managed to make out before all the world turned to black , was a peculiar growth of flowers , looking almost aglow . a GARDEN, perhaps ? how FITTING , enjolras thought with a tired bitterness . how TIMELY a reminder —— that we must all return to the SOIL & nourish the flowers . HE COLLAPSED .

[larevoluticn-blog]

plotting call !! like if you want me to hop into your inbox for plotting

[larevoluticn-blog]

tag dump !!

[larevoluticn-blog]

Be fire, not this ash slipping through the long fingers of a silent god.

Stevie Edwards, from “Daily Weather,” Humanly (via lifeinpoetry)