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Hi my name is Monsieur Madeleine Fauchelevent Leblanc Urban Fabre and I have short white hair (that's how I got my name) with grey streaks and a white beard that reaches my chest and grey eyes that look honorable and dignified and a lot of people tell me I look like Jean Valjean (AN: if u don't know who he is get da hell out of here!) I'm not related to Bishop Muriel but I wish I was because he's a major fucking hottie. I'm an ex-convict but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I'm also a mayor and I go to the National Guard in Paris where I'm legally exempt (I'm sixty). I'm a father (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly blue. I love Le Bon Marche and I get all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing blue trousers with a matching blue frock coat and a broad-brimmed hat which always appears to be new. I was wearing a black cravat and a quaker shirt that was dazzlingly white but made of coarse linen. I was walking around at the Rue de l'Ouest side of Luxembourg which skirts the parapet of the Pepiniere. A young man with an ambiguous prudence and an awkward daring stared at me and my daughter. I put my middle finger up at him.

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This project hasn’t been doing well financially for a while, while we have been receiving more outward support and more people are reading our work than ever before, we are paid less and less every month. We can’t keep doing this, we need more patrons. 

If you want this project to keep existing in the way it has, please consider supporting us.

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Valjean barely had the time to offer a soft "thank you" in reply, before the innkeeper left through the door presumably leading to the kitchen. Suddenly standing alone in the dining room, he looked around, trying to decide what kind of an inn this was. The wood interior made the room warm and cosy, and the fireplace added to the friendliness of the room. The only thing that struck him as odd was the sword hanging on the wall, looking a bit out of place. The sword itself was... something. Strange, he decided was the best word to describe it, a strange sword with the word "Folly" written beneath it. Something he figured he might ask the innkeeper about to keep a conversation going.

Pondering on this, he sat down on the table closest to the door, an instinct he found hard to fight. And then he waited, spending the time mapping out the following journey in his mind.

When the other man returned, Valjean smiled and gratefully accepted the plate out before him. "Thank you kindly," he said. "And this is more food than I've had in a couple of days, so I should be fine, but thank you again." He hurriedly took a drink from the tankard, blessing the innkeeper silently in his mind for making it cold. Quickly swallowing, he chuckled. "Oh, I have done a lot of waiting in my life, what will a bit more hurt."

Kote hummed softly, a sound that fluttered through the quiet and soon to be busy inn. The windows were open to let the coming summer sunshine in, warming the wood floors and nearby chairs, along with letting in the soft breeze that passed through. The fireplace was out, no need for it just yet, leaving the main room a perfect place to get out of the direct sun and rest for a little while. 

Grabbing the broom as he walked up the hall from the kitchen to the main room, the innkeeper walked past the tables and pushed the door open, starting his usual sweeping. While it wasn’t needed half the time; routine was routine and he had to keep himself busy. Besides, Bast had gone out to grab groceries, pies were baking, and there were no vegetables ready to pick just yet. Linens were out back on a line, drying and fluttering pleasantly for him while he was in the kitchen all morning.

His humming continued, listening to the bustle outside of busy people of the town. It was almost noon, so people would be filtering in soon enough for drink and bread. 

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Noticing the man's sudden change of self, Valjean smiled to himself. This was an act he himself was used to, always changing his demeanour in front of others to appear different than himself. It made him feel like he would either get along with the innkeeper perfectly fine, or not at all. "A mug of water and a simple meal, if you please," he said, before patting his breast pocket. "I can pay upfront if that would be an issue."

Kote hummed softly, a sound that fluttered through the quiet and soon to be busy inn. The windows were open to let the coming summer sunshine in, warming the wood floors and nearby chairs, along with letting in the soft breeze that passed through. The fireplace was out, no need for it just yet, leaving the main room a perfect place to get out of the direct sun and rest for a little while. 

Grabbing the broom as he walked up the hall from the kitchen to the main room, the innkeeper walked past the tables and pushed the door open, starting his usual sweeping. While it wasn’t needed half the time; routine was routine and he had to keep himself busy. Besides, Bast had gone out to grab groceries, pies were baking, and there were no vegetables ready to pick just yet. Linens were out back on a line, drying and fluttering pleasantly for him while he was in the kitchen all morning.

His humming continued, listening to the bustle outside of busy people of the town. It was almost noon, so people would be filtering in soon enough for drink and bread. 

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Entering the inn, dusty and worn from the road, Valjean sighed. He was happy to finally get away from the sun, and his feet were aching from walking all day. The only things currently on his mind were the wish for a glass of water, and the pondering on how many more days of a walk his journey would take him.

His eyes took a little while to adjust to the dimmer light in the room, and he spent the time brushing some dust of his clothes and stretching his back and neck, making his bones crack. When he finally could see, his eyes found what was, presumably, the innkeeper, a red haired man currently sweeping, and Valjean nodded at him with a smile. “Pardon my intrusion, but is the inn currently open for business?”

Kote hummed softly, a sound that fluttered through the quiet and soon to be busy inn. The windows were open to let the coming summer sunshine in, warming the wood floors and nearby chairs, along with letting in the soft breeze that passed through. The fireplace was out, no need for it just yet, leaving the main room a perfect place to get out of the direct sun and rest for a little while. 

Grabbing the broom as he walked up the hall from the kitchen to the main room, the innkeeper walked past the tables and pushed the door open, starting his usual sweeping. While it wasn’t needed half the time; routine was routine and he had to keep himself busy. Besides, Bast had gone out to grab groceries, pies were baking, and there were no vegetables ready to pick just yet. Linens were out back on a line, drying and fluttering pleasantly for him while he was in the kitchen all morning.

His humming continued, listening to the bustle outside of busy people of the town. It was almost noon, so people would be filtering in soon enough for drink and bread. 

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My muse has turned into a cat! Send me "Meow!” and I’ll generate what happens next!

You can find a random generator here.

Cat instincts take over, no one’s wiggling toes are safe.

Raw meat has never seemed so appealing and your muse is trying to make dinner with it but my muse wants it desperately.

Their reaction to your muse being startled to find a cat in their house and shoos them out the front door because they do not have a cat???

They are starving but your muse has left no food out for them, so they must find something- anything to eat!

They have a dream they have been turned into a cat and wake up screaming only to find they really have been turned into a cat and your muse is the only other person in the room with them.

They have somehow gotten trapped in a closet and they’re trying to get your muse’s attention.

They react to your muse pulling their tail.

They sit on your muse’s lap and dig their claws into their legs.

Weird cat shenanigans that only cat owners understand but your muse is not a cat owner so they do not understand.

Why is there catnip under the sofa?

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Fall Starters because I can't help myself 🍂🍁🌰🎃

“Let’s open some windows, okay?”

“It’s starting to rain…”

“Bring a jacket!”

“Do we really need to go to a pumpkin patch? Can’t we just buy one at Tesco?”

“You sound sick. Are you sick?”

“*sneeze* Sorry, allergies.”

“Wanna go out for Halloween?”

“Looks like it’s time to rake the leaves…”

“Come in here where it’s dry!”

“It’s dark?! Already?!”

“Ooh it’s chilly out.”

“Please, enough with the pumpkin spice.”

“Good morning. No, don’t get up, it’s raining, let’s stay in bed a little longer…”

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hey guys!

I lowkey feel like a terrible person for doing this, but *heavy sigh* here we go

Laura and I are in a rough shape right now and kinda need help. Economically.

With my tuition and my textbooks to be paid, rent and power, while also looking for a new place so we can get Laura’s cats over, and having to pay for all of this and our mediocre at best lifestyle, I am starting to get close to panic. My student loans will come in god knows when (the second they do we will be fine, but that can take months) and there is a need for money now.

So if any of you can help us out with a dollar or two or signal boost this post that will be of so much help. Thank you so much for even reading this post and anything you can do my friends. My PayPal: https://www.paypal.me/willwalmann

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A sketch of Cosette and Valjean. I had this in my head ever since John Owen Jones pretty much tore my heart out on stage. Needed some fluff to make up for it.

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I used to be passive aggressive, but now I’m aggressively passive. Don’t mess with me, kiddo. I’ll be right here. I’ll fucking forgive you.

Jean Valjean (via incorrectlesmisquotes)

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A while ago I had this other Les Mis dream where Javert was an FBI agent and Valjean was his criminal partner that uses his criminal knowledge to help like in that one show White Collar that I never watched. It would be called Black and White in reference to Javert’s views on morality and also Valjean’s nickname as Monsieur Leblanc.

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“One man’s trash is another man’s treasure, I’d say,” Valjean offered with a soft smile. “And that’s kind of you, very kind. I was thinking landscape of some sort, but the artist holds the brush. And I’d of course pay you accordingly.”

“If I paint something that no one will ever see, did I really paint it?”

“Good question, is Schrödinger’s cat dead or alive? Does the sun continue to shine after sundown? Who can really tell?”

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Humming as he put on a pot of coffee, Valjean smiled to himself. He rarely had much guests these days, but was happy to see a change in the pattern, and upon hearing Enjolras’s compliment his smile widened. “Thank you!” he replied, appearing out of the kitchen again, leaning against the door frame. “It’s a bit tired after many years of use, but it’s a home, and as me and the dog are the only ones living here currently, it’s not like I have to put much effort into keeping it up to standard.” 

"I just love my bed. Like... so much." [A. C. Enjolras]

“Well, bed certainly is a nice place. Though personally I feel like there are other places that might be more lovable.”

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“No no, I think I’ll manage, but thank you,” Valjean replied, gesturing for Enjolras to stay where he was. “Feel free to make yourself at home,” he added with a smile, before entering the kitchen. 

"I just love my bed. Like... so much." [A. C. Enjolras]

“Well, bed certainly is a nice place. Though personally I feel like there are other places that might be more lovable.”

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Laughing, Valjean’s eyes crinkled. “I thank you for the compliment, but no, no magical youth fountain hidden up my sleeves I’m afraid.” He chuckled. “Besides I have read The Picture of Dorian Gray, eternal youth seems terrifying if anything. But with that said, I do encourage staying young for as long as possible.”

“what’s the haps my dudes” -sunshineonthebarricade (because I can totally see Courf saying this to JVJ XD)

((oh dear, he totally would tho))

Valjean looked up, a confused look on his face. “I’m sorry?”

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“That’s a fair idea, people tend to pay for art if they like what they see, in my experience.” Valjean went silent for a second, pondering on something, before speaking again. “Actually,” he added. “Do you think there would be anything interesting for an old man like me in this collection of treasures? I have been trying to fill an empty wall for a while, but nothing I find seems to fit.”

“If I paint something that no one will ever see, did I really paint it?”

“Good question, is Schrödinger’s cat dead or alive? Does the sun continue to shine after sundown? Who can really tell?”

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Smiling at that, Valjean nodded. “Of course, the secret’s safe with me,” he assured, getting out of the chair he was in and standing up. “How does coffee sound?”

"I just love my bed. Like... so much." [A. C. Enjolras]

“Well, bed certainly is a nice place. Though personally I feel like there are other places that might be more lovable.”