musichetta-ofthemusain-blog

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//aflskdj sorry guys, I've been sick ;-;

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Your Musichetta is so perfect. I love reading everything you write.

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My headcanon Musichetta… nude. I think maybe Grantaire wanted to draw her, and he had already been shot down by Eponine and Cosette and Enjolras… but Chetta was more than happy - she is a liberated lady, after all. 

As long as she gets to keep a copy for herself, of course. ;)

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Reblog if you want someone to compare you to a Disney character in your ask!

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Send a ✿ if you would ship your character with mine.

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Musichetta laughed, shaking her head lightly. "You are all my boys, this is true," she smiled fondly. "And I do love you all, in my own way," she nodded. "When did you become religious, hm?" she snorted as he crossed himself.

"Good! I shall hold you to that, Courfeyrac. If I ever catch you bunch in a different cafe, so help me." she teased, grinning at him.

Four People Have Entered The Musain

“But as far as kisses and fluttered eyelashes, you would love us all, gentle Maria.” He chuckled, crossing himself. 

“A new cafe? Perish the thought, Chetta!” Courfeyrac placed a hand over his heart, eyes wide in mock horror. “The Musain is a home to most of us. We would never abandon it for some new place.”

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Musichetta smiled back at him, tilting her head. "Surprise you, hm?" she laughed, swatting at him at his compliment. "Alright, got just the thing," she whipped up an expresso for him, handing it over. "There you go, love."

Four People Have Entered The Musain

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Musichetta laughed softly. "Of course there's a need. I won't see anyone hungry under this roof, no sir!" she nodded, placing the second piece of bread of the sliced meat, and cut it in half. She handed the sandwich over to the woman, and smiled lightly.

"Oh, yes. They don't really get along, you know," she shrugged a bit. "Political differences, but I tend to stay out of that. I only know what I'm told, really." 

Four People Have Entered The Musain

“I—” She paused mid-protest, brows furrowing slightly and her lips curling into a startled frown. Gaze shifting between the stairs that led upstairs to the backroom and the woman, she offered a grateful and crooked smile. “Merci, mad’moiselle. But there ain’t no need, not really.”

She stared up at the ceiling, the muffled sounds of chairs shifting and footsteps resonating through the floorboards. “Fightin’?” Éponine repeated, looking thoughtful. “Perhaps I’d be best t’ wait to go up. Wouldn’t want t’ trouble ‘em further.”

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Musichetta was quick to make her a sandwich, handing it over to the other woman. This was what she liked doing. Helping. Trying to make every person who walks through her door's life a little bit easier. She handed Eponine the sandwich, and sat next to her. 

"I'm afraid I don't have a change of clothes here with me," she frowned, looking at the woman's soaked clothes. "But, you know, the boys aren't coming in today, so the upstairs is empty," she told her. "If you wanted to let your clothes dry, and maybe sleep a bit, there's a couple blankets and a pillow up there in the closet."

theinnkeepersgirl has started following you

Éponine frowned at Musichetta’s coddling. It made her uncomfortable, especially when she was touched; she shied away, anxious and hazy-headed. She knew it was just the other woman’s nature and concern for her well-being, but she couldn’t abide it. Not now. “M’fine,” she mumbled, taking the towel even so and using it to rub her hair dry.

At the offer of food, the gamine shrugged. She was starving — quite literally — but she didn’t have the energy at the moment to care. Mostly, she wanted to sleep. “Don’t matter.”

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((Sure c:))

Musichetta raised a brow at the blond man, hands on her hips. "Oy, you most definitely have not!" she shook her head, ushering the man towards one of the tables. "Sit," she ordered him, giving him a rather stern look, before heading behind the counter to assemble a quick sandwich  grabbing a plate and delivering it to the Chief. 

"I want you to eat all of that, you hear?"

chief-guide-andcenter have entered the Musain.

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Natalie Portman

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Musichetta brushed her fingers through the other man's hair softly, scratching lightly at the scalp and crooning. "I know, my sweet," she said softly. "But I am never wrong. I know Courfeyrac flirts with everyone, but he doesn't do it nearly as much with you. Mostly he just...Stares. When you're not looking," she said softly. "And I swear, when you look over and catch him, he blushes." Musichetta most definitely knew her boys better than anyone. 

"Oh, stop!" she laughed. "I'm excited to get a big belly, really. I mean, I know that sounds weird, but I've always loved baby bellies," she hummed. "Joly'll do enough for all three of us, I bet," she laughed. "I don't think Bossuet will be so worried."

cestlamortdefleurs started following you

Wrapping his arms around her, Jehan sighed, tucking his head against the crook of her neck and shoulder. “I’m…actually nervous, ‘Chetta. What if we’re wrong? Courfeyrac flirts with everyone, it’s not as if I’m special in anyway.” Still, her words helped, hope growing with every word she said; she noticed everything, knew everything about her boys(and Eponine and ‘Sette, to a lesser extent). If anyone would know, it was her.

“You’re already glowing, cherie. I can only imagine what you’ll look like when you’ve got a belly and can feel the baby kick. Beautiful with certainly be an understatement. Don’t worry too much, after all, Joly will certainly do that enough for the both of you.”

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Musichetta indeed joined him, sitting herself in his lap, arms wrapping around his neck. "Seven o'clock," she nodded her head, moving to kiss him again sweetly. "No more classes for the day?" she questioned. "Are you just going to hang about here, or are you goin' to run off with Bossuet and Feuilly?" she nosed his cheek softly.

jolllllly has started following you

“My feet? Non,” he said, following her nonetheless. He allowed her to guide him to an empty table and sat, wondering whether she would join him. “What time will you work until tonight?”

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“Joly, just listen to me for a second!” She cried as he started up again about the exams. “I already know you’re going to pass them. Best In your class,” her voice softened slightly, and she looked up at him. “I really need to speak to you seriously for a moment. I wish Bossuet was here, for sake of not having the same conversation twice,” she sighed, running a hand through her hair and tying it in a knot at the base of her neck.

Her hands covered his as they rested on her legs, biting her lower lip softly. “Alright, but do you /want/ kids, Joly. That’s the question I’m getting at here,” she leaned her head against his shoulder. Musichetta swatted at him as he started to make that smart ass comment, before he trailed off, and she froze.

He was staring at her, and she cringed slightly. “I’m pregnant, Joly,” she told him again, quietly. She recognized the signs of an upcoming panic attack, and quickly straddled him, hands cupping his cheeks.

“Joly, breathe.” She told him softly. “Take a deep breath, alright? This doesn’t change anything, love,” she pressed their foreheads together. “Come on, breathe with me.” She slowed her own breaths, watching him carefully. “There’s lots of options, Joly. I—I mean, I /want/ this baby. I think it’s amazing. And I’m so scared that you or Bossuet would have different opinions about this or you both don’t and—” she took her own deep breath. “Talk to me, please.”

That Little Pink Plus Sign || Joly & Musichetta

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Musichetta smiled softly, sliding off the counter and moving to kiss his cheek softly. She seated herself on his lap, hugging her friend tightly. "Oh, my sweet, you won't ruin things with him," she promised. "I'll make sure of that. I know he likes you too," she nodded her head.

"Oh, I hope so," she sighed. "I'll try not to worry too much, oui. I'm more excited than anything though," she wrapped her arms around her stomach, grinning. "I mean, I know I'll get big as a house, but I'm actually excited for it?"

"Oh, little shoes! Tiny baby feet," she squealed.

cestlamortdefleurs started following you

“You’re a wonderful friend, amour.” The poet nodded, cheeks still flushed, though he looked immensely grateful. “I’m just…not sure I could just…I don’t want to ruin something if I make a move, you know. So thank you, for offering. I might take you up on it.”

Shifting, he nodded. “You’re going to be the best mother, truly. You take care of all of us, you might as well be our mom as it is. Your baby is lucky enough to have three wonderful parents. Don’t worry too much, alright?

And yes, of course I’ll help. Baby clothes, little shoes, ah—”