This Is How He Saves Him.
This is how he saves him.
Grantaire is drowning. In physical pain, in mental pain, in emotional pain, in every kind of pain imaginable. Breathing hurts. Thinking hurts. When he's drunk into nearly oblivion and he can neither think nor breathe (not properly, anyway), existing hurts. He can feel the edges of his very being trembling with the effort to not fly apart, to not dissolve into nothingness.
Enjolras is dead, and so are Bossuet and Combeferre and Feuilly and Courfeyrac and Bahorel and Prouvaire, and so it is up to Joly to save him.
Musichetta thinks Joly is dead. For three weeks, doctors thought him brain-dead, but they kept him alive anyway, in the hope he would wake up. When he did, he discovered she had left, gone back to the country. Maybe Joly needs saving, too. But he needs to save Grantaire more than he needs to be saved.
So they live -- or, they learn how to live again.
And every time Grantaire smiles, or laughs, or picks up a paintbrush (but not a bottle), he is saved.
More Posts from Particolored-arts and Others
send a number and a prompt you know the drill
|| for heraldofmelkor in Edain palette #6.
Fëanor and Fingolfin, yeah.
reference: (x). original Fingolfin design by eehn.
noot noot! book of nile please <3
“Lover’s Wreck” - Gaelic Storm
In my sleeping mind she sings a sad and lonely lullaby
And when I wake, there’s just the ache that’ll haunt me ‘til I die
It’s been two days now since he woke from the first death that wasn’t his and wasn’t drowning. Two days, and he’ll never wake from it again, but he can remember it now, in Val d'Argent, as clearly as he did on the train in Sudan: the heat of blood spilling out, the sharp pain, and most of all the shock.
He remembers her looking up at her friend’s face and thinking Oh, this is it. I didn’t think it would be like this.
He remembers her thinking, I don’t want to go.
It reminds him of how his own first death went. Of how he had been so sure he would survive, and then the stomach-dropping realization that he wouldn’t.
And then, of course, he did. And now she has, too.
He doesn’t want to go to sleep again. It was easier in Goussainville, knowing that Merrick’s men were coming but not knowing Nile, not really. But now Merrick’s men have come and gone and taken Nicky and Joe with them, and Andy is being weird and quieter than normal, and Nile …
Nile.
She shines, is the thing. Booker has tried, but he can’t take his eyes off her.
Keep reading
Won’t someone think of the children
Emma: Okay so like. The most fridge horror thing about the triwizard tournament is that they’re like “we added an age restriction!”
Emma: Not “we raised it!” Just “we added one!”
Emma: Which implies that previously, 11 YEAR OLDS COULD ENTER
Emma: Like I doubt they were ever chosen bc someone whose magical repotoir consists solely of “swish and flick” is not the best candidate for their school but what the FUCK
Meghan: AU where the Tournament happens 1st year, the other Champions are the same (17) and throw the whole competition making sure Harry doesn’t fucking die. They even let him take the Cup bc he’s so tiny and adorably earnest…
Meghan: Obviously that backfires, but Cedric isn’t dead at least.
Emma: THANKS I HATE IT
help I looked up a whole bunch of reference photos for the paso doble and now all I want to do is draw angry dancing Silmarillion characters
So am I dead? How many kinds of living and dead and living dead and dead living had I been in just these few months, these few days, after the stasis of plain old human living and dying? I deserved some kind of existential medal.
- Dust by Joan Frances Turner
Casual reminder about Javert, published 1841 in ‘Pictures of the French’ by J. G. Janin.
No shiny uniforms, ponies, or hordes of obedient underlings there.
-
particolored-arts reblogged this · 12 years ago
Unofficial art/writing blog for particolored-socks. Updates once in a blue moon.
265 posts