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they shed not a tear for Medea

@medea-azyungele / medea-azyungele.tumblr.com

Marty | Italian | 1994 | Biologist | INTJ | Voted most likely to save the frogs ๐Ÿธ | blog on queue but I'm terminally online anyway
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โ€œGrantaire! Youโ€™re early!โ€ Enjolras, honest-to-God, smiled at him, like he was glad to see him. Grantaire wanted to pinch himself. He was worried he was hallucinating. Except delirium tremens was supposed to be over after like, six days sober, max.

Thankfully at least part of his brain recovered enough to remember his gifted watch, and he took it out with a flourish, opening it to check the time. โ€œWhy, yes, exactly eighteen minutes early, a personal record.โ€

He looked up to see Enjolrasโ€™ reaction but was once again left frozen when the man grabbed his hand to check the time for himself. Grantaire felt goosebumps race up his arm as Enjolrasโ€™ hand made contact with his. It felt cool and perfectly smooth. Enjolrasโ€™ lips were slightly quirked up as he examined the watch, apparently pleased to see his gift in perfect condition. Grantaire felt light-headed.

Grantaire was sure heโ€™d reacted, in some way. Jehan must have, for sure. But for a moment, all he could see was the carafe, suddenly on that windowsill, one third full still, red-tinted fruit slices bobbing decadently.

His throat was so dry. Fuck, this was a mistake.

Why couldnโ€™t he be normal, like every-fuckin-one else, just happy having his one or two or seven drinks, tipsy and chatty and decent fucking company.

He didnโ€™t even know if heโ€™d refused, or if Jehan did it for him, or if a higher power had intervened, but suddenly Courfeyrac, his pitcher of sangria and everyone else were leaving, and he was sitting on the windowsill right where the carafe had been. He took his head in his hands.

After an eternity, or no time at all, a body settled next to his. โ€œPenny for your thoughts?โ€

Grantaire huffed a laugh. Yeah, who else would it be?

โ€œSorry, I justโ€ฆโ€ Enjolras started, and Grantaire had to look at him, suddenly couldnโ€™t stand to not knowing Enjolrasโ€™ expression anymore. โ€œIโ€™m not sure how to be friends with you.โ€

Direct as always, his Apollo. But never untruthful.

โ€œIโ€™m not too worried, you always seemed to champion impossibilities...โ€ He replied, and even he himself didnโ€™t know if he meant it as a jab or a compliment.

Enjolrasโ€™ eyebrows did an odd twitch, and he elected to take a sip of his offensively pink drink instead of replying. He looked violently beautiful, in this corner of the world, black sky at his back and lips tinged rose. Grantaire was desperate for a drink, to dull the sharpness that made his mouth taste metallic.

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queermania

if iโ€™m ever brutally murdered and everyone feels like they need to do something productive in my memory, all i want is for you to pass legislation banning LED headlights in my name. regardless of how irrelevant it is to my murder. itโ€™s relevant to my heart.

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what? you're just a really nice guy, you know that? yeah, that's just the champagne talking. no, it's not. okay, maybe it is a little.

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calirph

๐„๐Œ๐Œ๐€ ๐ƒ'๐€๐‘๐‚๐˜ as ๐‘๐‡๐€๐„๐๐˜๐‘๐€ ๐“๐€๐‘๐†๐€๐‘๐˜๐„๐

House of the Dragon, 2x08. Daemon's vision.

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