#➤ 𝚇𝙸. 𝙹𝚄𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙴 ┊ julien enjolras.

[flownintothesun]

𝟓 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄.

⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐬.

annie's song by john denver ( @batteredoptimist 's james) ; la vie en rose by daniela andrade ; shallow originally by gaga (nonny's muriel) ; may i by trading yesterday (**bonus: singin in the rain, a cover)

⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐲.

star of the county down high kings cover (nonny's james) ; run by delta rae ; for the dancing and the dreaming by erutan (another for james) ; a whistling lad by hound and fox ; follow you into the dark by death cab for cutie (nonny's muriel)

⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧.

song of the sea ashley serena cover ; somewhere out there (from an american tail OW) ; hallelujah by leonard cohen but this version's my favorite ; over the rainbow by mree ; blackbird by the beatles

⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞.

habanera from carmen ; belle's villain song by lydia the bard ; petit papillon by eurielle ; so this is love sneha cover (her voiceclaim) ; mr. brightside halocene cover (**bonus: all the things she said, tatu)

⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐨.

mary on a cross by ghost ; orpheus by sara bareilles (nonny's romana) ; tomorrow by sr-71 ; artillery by infected mushroom ; the blowers daughter giulia falcone cover (nonny's muriel)

⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐥𝐫���𝐬.

achilles come down by gang of youths ; 21 guns by green day ; welcome to the black parade by my chemical romance ; the hanging tree from the hunger games ; battlefield by svrcina

  **bonus playlists : (francis.) (westley.) (marin.) (lucienne.) (mariano.)

Tagged by : @velvetnviolentviolets (thank you! ♡ )

Tagging: @batteredoptimist (james & muriel) ; @imprvdente (all of the versions of fish? or at least the ones you want!) ; @astremourante ; @angerworn & @eltriador ; @wehavefoundthestars ; @charroblanco ; @florietiae (raven!) ; @sylkshe ; @asoulofstars & you, all of you - and tag me!!

[flownintothesun]

𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 an obscure muse that no one is ever likely to write with because I am emotionally compromised, no you didn't. Xifeng is from the 'Rise of the Empress' duology by Julie C. Dao, which is a retelling of Snow White in which she fills the role of 'Evil Queen'. At this time, I only want to write her in her own world, she's request only and I strongly prefer people to have read the books before asking me about her.

Many asks of mine to have, yes, but alas maybe one day someone will be excited about this duology as I am!

Also, please know her arc is a dark one and proceed with caution. More to follow when I have time to put together a character page for her (which means finally having to do one for Enjolras too *sigh*).

[flownintothesun]

what color is your name ?

tagged by : the lovely @hstoryhuh (thank you! ♡) tagging : anyone interested!

[flownintothesun]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐎𝐅?

𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐬.

literature and art. you radiate creativity. sensitive and wistful, and everything you do is a work of art. you’re often prayed to before performance or before a new work is created, asking for the creative vision to remain strong and the emotion to flow into whatever they produce. your worshippers are blessed with creative talents beyond desire.

𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐲.

weather and calamity. tempestuous and fearsome. your moods are hard to read and you strike on a whim. not a soul can avoid you as disasters strike across the land. you have your own standards for what makes sense and what you value and if anyone dares challenge you there will be nowhere for them to run.

𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧.

labyrinths and confusion. a god for the lost souls. you can often find makeshift altars for you deep in forests, cave systems, and other uncharted territories. you guide those lost back onto the path. the souls of those who disrespect you are lost forever, trapped in a winding labyrinth, never to leave or see sunlight again.

𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞.

beauty and relationships. you are a very prideful deity. you know your worth, you know your power, and you know your beauty. people come to you for love and confidence. you may seem calm but when your worth or beauty is in question wrath fills you. it's common to see those who question you on those matters face a life of loneliness.

𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐨.

winter and death. you’re known for your self-discipline and rigidity. although you may be perceived as cold and intimidating by those who don’t directly worship you, you’re actually quite fair and polite. your followers pray to you for a safe winter and peaceful death.

𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐥𝐫𝐚𝐬.

balance and revenge. another seemingly intimidating figure. some only know you for revenge and fear you. however, you’re fair and provide justice and balance to your worshippers. you are regarded as the judge, jury, and executioner and no one can escape.

tagged by : the lovely @screwhope tagging : all of you lovelies? tag me so i can see because i'm nosy.

[flownintothesun]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 —

  ✰ ⋆ ─── 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐬.

francis is dressing up as his first love this year. of course he means the bard himself — none other than william shakespeare, complete with mannerisms.

✰ ⋆ ─── 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐲.

westley would be a pirate, of course — as though there was ever any other option. most fearsome pirate in all the seas — the great, legendary captain mccarthy. he says he'd also make a dashing zorro.

✰ ⋆ ─── 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧.

marin would be a glittery and shimmering siren with a very realistic tail. i think she'd go all out with it, too. her song could steal a sailor's soul.

✰ ⋆ ─── 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞.

would go very classic in a marie antoinette take with the full costume, sparing no expense.

✰ ⋆ ─── 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐨.

nonny's muses would have to wrangle him into partaking. but he'd probably be the big bad wolf for reasons.

✰ ⋆ ─── 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐥𝐫𝐚𝐬.

"i do not support the rampant consumerism and blatant appropriation of a culture’s spiritual beliefs."

[flownintothesun]

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒

Francis, Westley, Marin, Lucienne, Mariano, Enjolras.

tagging: all of you! do it and tag me, please? i'd love to see! tagged by: @hvbris ♡♡

[flownintothesun]

For muns with multiple muses, past and present, on any blog.

Rules: Fill out the form according to which muse suits each title best. (The same muse can have multiple titles.) Repost and tag. Feel free to add more!

Favorite Muse: Oh god. Do you KNOW the war that will start with these chaotic nuisances in my head if I answer that?

Most Character Development: Westley, hands down. He started out as a kind of joke of a concept and then as it turned out, I needed him. Funnily enough, @batteredoptimist came and asked me 'so about this sailor boy...' and, as it turned out, I got a Westley and a Nonny out of the deal. Which is pretty great for me. Now he's so different from the original idea I had of him — he's fully developed and it's been pretty amazing to see.

Trash Muse: *covers his ears* Westley.

The Meme-Lord: *squints* Mariano for the dad jokes, Francis unironically, and Henry (who will claim that Alex sends them more).

Most Likely to Start a War: Lucienne. Westley wants to say it's him but it's definitely Luci. Mariano is a good candidate too, tbh.

Worst Personality: skfadgfkj Howl (lovingly) or Enjolras (marble statue).

Best Singer: Marin.

Most Attractive Muse: OH GOD WHY. They're all gorgeous. Marin.

Biggest Heart: Francis.

Falls in Love Quickest: *looks at Francis and James specifically* Francis.

Most Likely to Drop Their Phone in the Toilet: Westley.

Ice Ruler: Lucienne. Mariano is over here pouting.

The Edgelord: Westley? 😅 (This is dangerous he's so mad at me.)

Most Tragic Backstory: Oof Marin and Westley.

Best Case of Puberty: I am autistic and don't understand the question oop.

Most Awkward: Mariano, actually. He fumbles all over himself when he's not acting all badass.

Busy Bee: Mariano.

Most Clueless: Francis. See also: tea.

Most Likely to Forget Their Wallet at Home: Francis or Westley for different reasons.

Best Dressed: mm...all of them? If I have to choose, Mariano.

Biggest Flirt: Westley.

Most Dramatic: oh goddddd. he's going to kill me at this point. *hides* also DEFINITELY Westley. But as for me the mun providing drama to the character, Marin.

Least Likely to Show Up Late: Mariano.

One with Weirdest Habit: Uh. I don't think any of them have any particularly weird habits? (Other than one of my Nonny-villains who I don't write on here...) but Francis taps music notes on his legs when he's stressed and hiccups when he's flustered. Westley's legs basically vibrate and he chews on his lip piercing in his modern verse.

Most Likely to Be Caught at the Gym: Mariano.

tagged by @hvbris (thank you this was soooo fun ♡) tagging everyone, do it it's so much fun

[flownintothesun]

            ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── for @jondrettegirl from the open starter here ...

            𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐆𝐔𝐄 in the quaint and sleepy streets of Paris. He’s seen it in the eyes of young lovers hand in hand walking along the Seine, and in Marius’s faraway gaze. It’s almost as though they’ve forgotten that war is upon them. The heart is a strange thing — although he supposes that all great things are done for love, in the end. But it is France that needs their love now — to pave the way for the lovers and dreamers of the future. Their hearts must be in the right place, if the organ should speak of anything at all. This anger, this rage — why does it not ignite for people just like her? The downtrodden, the poor, those who suffer more than a simple broken heart of a misguided fool. Marius’s loyalties are volatile — and he changes opinions as though they were stockings. Were Enjolras not certain that his supposed ‘love’ would wane and pass — it might make for a bigger talking point.

      The contagion, of course, is love itself. How curious the thing is that makes the troubles of a nation become shrouded in fog that speaks only the name of a sweetheart in its stead. He should never be so foolish as to fall in love. “Marius’s affections are mercurial,” he says at last — though to speak truly to argue with her at this point may be the same as to argue with Grantaire, always steeped in drink and ready to take the opposition. Infuriating, really.

       He looks at the bottle with sharp blue eyes, as though he sees not only the wine — but where it comes from, what it had taken for it to get there — and last, but certainly not least, what he might become, were he to succumb to frivolity, and for a moment forget the troubles of the world. He slides it back to her — “It is just a passing fancy. He sees what he wishes to, and to the rest of the world is blind. A stubborn fool,” he mutters in a low, fond whisper. How strange must it be to be in love, and to believe that the world ends when you look into someone’s eyes, rather than when the government silences and oppresses her people.

[flownintothesun]

𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐋𝐑𝐀𝐒, 𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 :

  "Whence should proceed that cry of love, if not from the heights of sacrifice? Oh my brothers, this is the point of junction, of those who think and of those who suffer; this barricade is not made of paving-stones, nor of joists, nor of bits of iron; it is made of two heaps, a heap of ideas, and a heap of woes. Here misery meets the ideal. The day embraces the night, and says to it: 'I am about to die, and thou shalt be born again with me."

⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── **based on this anonymous ask** how does your muse view the gentler ,   daintier things in life ? as things worth preserving   &   caring for ,  or things only bound to wither & disappear ?

  Enjolras is very much an Achilles of a character. He’s strong, he’s the leader, a warrior, he’s utterly brilliant (if sometimes scary in that brilliance), but he is also described in the books as beautiful in a soft way, almost a feminine way. I think that he’s struggled with that, as well as the privilege he was granted at birth. Which, in and of itself is a bit problematic. He gave it all up, but he could never understand the way the people struggled. Not wholly. So in that sense, he disdains the beauty and daintiness of luxury, of who he is on the surface, of the loveliness bestowed upon him.

     He wants to atone. Wants to be at the bottom fighting beside the poor man as a brother. But he could never be that because of name and circumstance and all that glory that the wealthy call beautiful.

     When he looks outward at the people on the streets, the working people, and sees gentleness, goodness and kindness...there is nothing in the world that moves him more. This is what he fights for, his reason. Pride in his country, but a country that is made by and for the people at the bottom.

[flownintothesun]

     𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄, 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘,  before one of them was doomed to get hurt. It’s all he can think as he’s knocked to his arse by a spattering of rubber bullets. The crowd disperses then; but some stay on, they hold the line. He’s supposed to be holding the line. Too many people getting hurt, too many people already hurt. It’s why they’re here, protesting in the street.

     “I’m fine,” he says with a wince, hand in the grit of the pavement as he pushes himself up, propels himself back onto the front lines even as pain and blood splits down his side. “Did anyone else get shot?”

[flownintothesun]

 ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ───  𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 : I can see the arguments for summer (barricade day) and winter (marble statue) — but to me, Enjolras is autumn. He is change in the air, the falling of the last red leaf succumbing to winter death for a spring renewal he won’t bear witness to. He is the changing of the seasons, the changing of the world. He is the color red, he is caught between extremes — summer and winter — what the world could be versus what the world is. He is the last triumphant stand in all of his bright, beautiful colors.

[flownintothesun]

"Love is capitalism."

       ─── Julien Enjolras

[flownintothesun]

 ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ───    𝟏𝟑. 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬?

                              ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬. ( @imprvdente )

**Disclaimer : I'm not sure how 'weird' all of these will be, but they'll at least be headcanons and I shall do my best to make them silly if I can think of them !!

𝐈. 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐗

⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── When Francis gets super duper flustered, he starts hiccuping. It's a very big tell and it's super cute. He'll try to stave it off or hold it back, and then it ends up shaking his whole body. It's pretty much the cutest thing ever and he has a glorious strawberry-red blush to match. So, if you make him hiccup, that means you're doing something to fluster him (good on you). Not that Fish would ever do that, nope, not ever. This headcanon was developed when my dear @olivierperrier was still active.

𝐈𝐈. 𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐌𝐂𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐘

⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── In the rare verse where Westley has actually gotten to grow up with his mam on the farm in Scotland — he has an ongoing feud with a rooster named 'The Colonel'. It started when he was a tot and was chased around nonstop. Doris (his mam, @batteredoptimist 's lovely) tried very very hard not to laugh. The rooster lived to a ripe old age and when he was gone, Westley cried, but still curses his name.

𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝐆𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍

⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── One of Marin's earliest (and only, depending on verse) memories of her mam is of her red hair, and of her singing in Scottish Gaelic to her. Song is a big influence in Marin's life. In quite a few of her verses now, I headcanon her to (unknowingly) be half-siren, if the verse allows for magic. She loves to sing, and it calms everyone around her. Also, no matter the verse, she wears a thistle necklace that her mam gave to her when she was very young. (For more siren!Marin headcanons, click the link.)

𝐈𝐕. 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐎 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐈

⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── Hm, at first glance, this Italian badass has no flaws or weaknesses. In fact, he looks like he belongs on the cover of a Harlequin romance book — shirtless and sweaty and sexy all pressed up against some girl. There's just one thing preventing that from happening. Mariano is scared shitless of horses. Why? We don't know. He just told me one day, I laughed, we rolled with it. 11/10 will swear in full Italian fear and will try to play it off. Also, all of those things like 'don't break your spaghetti in front of an Italian. Yeah. True.

𝐕. 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐗

⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── Probably my newest headcanon (not necessarily a weird one because of all the muses on tumblr, Luci's probably the most underdeveloped of my OCs) is that Luci has heterochromia, meaning that her eyes are different colors. One is a lovely shade of blue-grey (like her mother's), and it leaks into the other eye before turning a soft shade of brown (like her father's).

𝐕𝐈. 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐍 𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐋𝐑𝐀𝐒

⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── Enjolras is one I haven't gotten to write with a ton to develop yet, so I don't have a multitude of headcanons for him. What I do have is a little more tragic than it is 'weird' or 'funny'. For all of the ways he strives to help the underdog, and the poor — Enjolras himself was born into the upper class and a very wealthy family. In school, he learned of the struggles of the people in the streets and kind of tried to martyr himself down to their level to join the fight and use his voice. He cut off his parents and no longer sees them or acknowledges them. Nevertheless, both of his parents love him and want him to come home.

𝐕𝐈𝐈. 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐗-𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍-𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐎𝐑

⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── Henry is also a bit of a sad case, I think. Please mind that I have not seen the movie and it's been about a year since my last reread of the book — but I think that when his father died, he very nearly tried to run away and become a stage actor (think Shakespeare type thing) and writer in his father's memory. I actually have a verse for this. However, when his mother shut down, and Bea started coping in unhealthy ways — instead of pursuing grief in the way his heart called him to do so — he internalized everything and was there for everyone else instead.

[flownintothesun]

⋆ ✰ ⋆ ───    ‘ 𝐢 𝐜 — 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡, 𝐲 —𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐢 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐞 — 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐬 — 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 — 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞. ( 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐥𝐫𝐚𝐬 )  

                        ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── 𝟒𝟎𝟒 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝.  ( @dcmur3 )

        𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑. 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑. To love... and...to touch — concepts as ancient as the very first records of civilization. These things are pillars to the world at large, and have spanned story and song for centuries — what greater joy than the embrace of another — what is the point of it all, if not to love? And if these things are as he says, the pillars of society — then a wall has surely gone up around them — and he and Valerie stand on the outside, looking in. Enjolras has not known love — save for the love of his country. Enjolras has not known touch save for the embrace of a mother who is dead to him. This is the cost of what it takes to turn a man into a marble statue — a pillar not for love, nor for touch — but for freedom.

      He will always be on the outside looking in where it concerns the world at large — afraid of what getting too close might cost him. His beauty will be his fury — and his love will be vengeance, beautiful and terrible. Valerie, however, is not like him — she hasn’t chosen to be on the outside. She remains outside the wall due only to a misfortune in circumstance — not because her heart lacks the capacity to love more than one thing. On the contrary, the girl has the biggest heart of anyone he’s ever met.

      But who is he — to give her advice when it comes to love, or toward compassion and touch? If anything, it’s she who has taught him a great deal regarding those particular subjects. And still, he is a great fool — one who knows nothing to bring her the comfort she seeks. And still, he thinks back to the world. What is he fighting for, if not the right for other people to love and be loved? It is a freedom, the same as any other. “Perhaps when the time is right, there will be no more to fear.” She is stronger than she seems — but he doesn’t think she knows it. Not yet.

[flownintothesun]

Me, trying to write:

Enjolras, about love: THERE IS A PLAGUE IN THE STREETS OF PARIS!

Me: Sir, please.

[flownintothesun]

⋆ ✰ ⋆ ───    𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡:     𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

                  ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── "𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲" 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬. ( @thatfirehairedshifter )

          𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 — returned to its romance from the wide jaws of the city of revolution that simmers just below the surface at any given time. Paris is a lover who cleans up well.  Medium-length blond waves hang over the back of the claw-foot tub that looks majestically out of place on the mismatched tile floor of his humble flat. Outside this room — there is a messy desk full of homework, and petitions from civilians, and outlines for another grève should M. président decide he won’t adhere to their orders. Outside this room, their lover sleeps sprawled out naked on the bed — covered in paint and smelling like wine. Funny, Enjolras never thought the lingering scent would endear itself to him, and yet, he misses it when it’s gone.

     His shoulders ache as though he’s really borne the weight of the world upon them in the weeks that have passed in protest. His professors are a part of the bigger problem, and aren’t excusing him from doing twice the work they’ve ever thought to from behind their desks to free the people from their oppression. He has a lot to do. But it is joyous work, nevertheless.

     The faucet drips as it always does, creates a little ‘plink’ against the water as he shifts forward, bending to place a kiss to her bare shoulder. They barely fit in the bath together comfortably. That might be different, had he maintained his life in the 16th arrondissement — but he had not, and he is better for it. This flat may be drafty, and the smell of trash fires still waft up through the rickety old windows — but this place is his bit of history, a testament to how things change. It’s not big enough for three people — but they haven’t talked about that yet. He doesn’t know if he’s ready for that yet. Doesn’t know if he’ll ever be ready for that. He always thought that for the most part, he would end up on his own — save for his ragtag band of misfits: Les Amis de l'ABC. He was wrong.

       Cars make their way through the streets, running over the remnants of their makeshift barricades. He is tired, but he is proud of the country that holds his love. Battle-worn hands are beginning to prune as one reaches up out of the water, strokes along her arm intentionally, but lazily — as though he’s still not quite certain whether he wants to instigate something that will keep them up for hours still, or just enjoy the warmth of the bath and her soft body pressed against him. They’re both battered from the chaos, and his own eyes burn from picking up a canister of teargas and throwing it back in the direction of the government. It’s been a long few weeks. It’s almost strange for things to seep gradually into normalcy. He runs a finger gently over a bruise blossoming on her back, “You’re hurt,” he murmurs, his voice a little deeper than usual, worn out from screaming through a megaphone. “You didn’t tell me you were hurt.”