(Source: nephelite, via mariebeaulieu-deactivated201205)

olivie-paquet:

I’m sure Marie would love to take you up on that offer.

I highly doubt that, Olivie.  But, you are more than welcome to step in for her.

(Source: messr-charles, via olivie-paquet-deactivated201203)

beauxbatonsconfessions:

And you are?

(Source: messr-charles, via beauxbatonsconfessions-deactiva)

(Source: backto-beauxbatons)

(Source: m-a-t-t-milligan)

mariebeaulieu:

Marie bit at her tongue at his hands. She had been the one to try and be helpful and cordial, and it was he who, once again, was being the jerk in this situation. Why did she even ever attempt to be nice to him? It wasn’t worth it in the slightest. “I-I don’t care. I just don’t want you vomiting on school property or something.” That wasn’t completely the truth. But it wasn’t worth it to try and explain it to him when he was this way.You s-shouldn’t, because I wouldn’t care if the r-roles were reversed. That stung a bit. She knew it was true, though. He didn’t give a damn about her, never had, never would. He hadn’t been nice to her since…well, she couldn’t recall a time he’d ever been nice to her. Well, unless you counted the time he was kind ironically.

“Fine,” she said, standing, “I’ll go. Just don’t hurt yourself anymore, yeah? I’m sure your lady friends wouldn’t want that.” She was angry, although she didn’t know why. Why did she expect anything different from him now? Just because he was drunk? That didn’t make any sense. “Here,” her words mixed with emotion, she threw the crumpled letter at his feet, “Have your letter, Charlie.” She knew the word would hurt him, and she intended it to. Why did Charles make her into this person? She wasn’t ever mean like this to anyone else. She could chalk it up to him being rude first, but that was childish and wasn’t completely true. Something about him always got under her skin, even if he said nothing at all.

He knew, somewhere down in the pit of his stomach, that Marie didn’t really care about him, not even pity him.  But with her words, her apparent concern of only the school, made his stomach churn, twist itself into knots.  That small, even minute piece of hope that she might actually feel for him—even if it were purely pity—seemed to leave him.  He had truly driven her away, and perhaps it was now a reality.  Even at his lowest point, this girl wanted nothing to do with Charles.  That familiar feeling seemed to fill every part of his body, and he pulled his legs closer to his chest.  That unwanted, uncaring feeling his father could so easily push onto his son appeared again in Charles, because of this girl.  Marie made him feel vulnerable, and he felt himself falling more and more away from reality.  But if it were identical to the feelings he received from his father, perhaps he would be able to bury these ones too.  Perhaps he could move on too.

The crumpled letter stood by his feet.  He could see his father’s writing, that name etched onto the front.  And when he glanced up to look at Marie, she seemed hell-bent on leaving.  In fact, maybe she was already.  He pulled the letter up from the floor, attempting to de-crumple it.   The pit in his stomach began to well-up, moving up and down and side to side.  He couldn’t contain himself anymore, he couldn’t be that brick wall.  Tears formed in his eyes, and Charles tried his best to hide them from her.  ”D-Don’t call me that.  Please.”  He stuttered out, attempting to hide his face from the surrounding world.  

(Source: messr-charles, via mariebeaulieu-deactivated201205)

(Source: mcaithusa)

mariebeaulieu replied to your post: Some tosser spilt tea on me.

Please put your, er, shirt back on.

As if you’re bothered by it.