Squeaks the Kitten

so the last one I posted was really sad, and in my RP R just got a kitten named Squeaks

so this happened

also for Sam because Wisdom Teeth suck

Squeaks was a happy, well behaved, menace.

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this fic is 50 shades of sideways awful

but I’m not doing too well in my mind-place either, and I write to feel better.

so

R in a bad mindplace, that should be enough

if not: Alcoholism, Verbal Abuse, Drug Abuse, Self-harm and Suicidal thoughts are all discussed below the cut

Grantaire was full of self – destructive tendencies and volatile emotions. It was from years of emotional abuse at his father’s hand, while his mother just watched silently. There was nothing he could do; he was a child when he first was taught he was useless, and a teen when he was taught he was a fuck-up. Being an adult didn’t do much to chance the lessons, to bandage the scars and fix the cracks. 

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so today is the ERE shipping festival yes?

well today is also the day I happen to be moving out of the dorms

so since I have a second, I’ll link to my past ERE and I’ll try to get some new things out before midnight -crosses fingers-

Belong

Untitled Eponine and R bonding (from “Belong” Verse

And I’ll add this other untitled thing because it technically is 

so tomorrow for the ere shipping festival I want to write THINGS

STUFF

so any requests for that? Because I’m so excited for this i don’t think you understand

So I have two requests here and 4 requests on my main blog, and I have them. I see them. 

This week, however, is finals. Which means the past month has been final prep. The things I’ve posted I’ve had time and inspiration to write them, but I will get those prompts to you (and if your promp has mont it will take a little longer because hoo shit do I write a bad mont. And not as in bad boy but as in THE WRITING OF HIM JUST SUCKS because I suck so)

thank you, again, for following me through all of this. You’re all the best <3

Jehan and Grantaire

because their friendship is legendary 

also I’m really fucking proud of this one sooooo

connected to this one, if you’ve read it you’ll get how

The coffee shop on main was a haven for the artistic and strange. Obscure or local paintings hung on the walls, crooked in a way that was in itself artistic, each piece of furniture obviously coming from a different second-hand store or thrift shop and the front door was painted bright orange. Anyone who cared what they looked like avoided it like the plague, making it Grantaire’s favorite place to haunt when he didn’t want to go home.

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Grantaire - Dancer

I want Grantaire as a Dancer to be a thing

help me make it a thing

also: I know very little about the blocking of dancing, i don’t even know if they call it blocking, but that’s about the only place i fail in my knowledge of dancing

This was just not acceptable.

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Combeferre and Bahorel

I blame Dee completely and totally because she’s a dirty enabler. And also part of this was blatantly ripped off something she wrote me I hope she doesn’t mind SOBBU 

I love them

and I’ll write something more… in depth about how this scene went down when I can find the power to do so smut is so hard whine

also Anxiety/Panic discussed 

The ironic thing was he wasn’t perfect.

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Presidential Les Mis AU preview

His leg had twitched 17 times in the past 5 minutes, his fist had clenched 32 times in a fashion that if he had been Bahorel he would have caused a fist fight, and his grip on her wrist had only tightened since he had taken hold of it. She was hyper aware of his every motion, had been since Enjolras had taken hold of her – she had been picking at the sleeve of her dress and apparently it was driving him crazy.

 

            It wasn’t the only thing, obviously, but it was something he could stop.

 

            This dinner wasn’t supposed to be political, but things can only stay ‘formal’ for so long when the host is the President and everyone wants to impress upon him their agenda. Enjolras took it all with a pleasant smile; Eponine knew that the only people in the room who understood the rage coursing through him were those on either side of him – herself and Combeferre, who was so stoic that people gave up a while ago trying to speak politics with him – and it was almost comical.

 

            But it was typical, far too typical.

 

            Eponine shifted, crossing her legs and sighing rather loudly. The man talking stopped, a look resembling shock on his face at her reaction. She leaned on the arm of her chair toward Enjolras, raising an eyebrow at the man in question.

 

            “Sir, your opinions on all of this is so… fascinating I assure you, but absolutely primitive.” Eponine cooed. “To speak of women’s right in such a base way in front of a man who is very resolute about such things, whose Secretary of State is a Woman.” She shifted again, switching the way her legs were crossed. “And, possibly the worse of your sins, saying all these dastardly things in front of his wife. It’s almost comical how little tact you show.”

 

            The room had grown quiet during this time, all except the chuckle she heard from the doorway. Enjolras’ hand had left her wrist and slipped into hers, and Combeferre was smirking. She leveled the man with a stare – who had grown quite pale - a small smirk playing at her lips.

 

            “Now, my good sir, I do believe it’s time for you to leave my house.”

-leaves this here and rolls away to make hats-