me: rests under the open sky and whispers magic in my sleep, uses astral projection to explore and learn and play with ghosts, elaborate and detailed journal, deep understanding of astrology, somehow already knows what you’re going to say, mysterious and soft but only on the surface, a knower of secrets, sleepy eyes, lives in a tree in a misty forest and makes friends with the plants and spirits there. Hoards blankets. Clinging, moody, possessive, indecisive, over-emotional. Caring, sensitive, nurturing, intuitive, shrewd, cautious, protective, sympathetic, feeling, contemplative, imaginative.
my wife: storm witch, runs barefoot through the rain and dances with lightning and shouts thunder, her laughter sounds like God, keeps trinkets and mementos in small jars around our bathroom, asks favors and learns from the clouds, bright and blazing as a flare and always ready to act, soft as a summer rain and cold as hail, hair is full of leaves and wind, feet are dirty but her mind is clean and sharp. Unpredictable, eccentric, rebellious, chaotic, detached, opinionated, absent-minded. Independent, individualistic, humanitarian, original, intellectual, inventive, idealistic, assertive, honest, loyal, friendly. And beloved.
Hey bud let’s be real here for a minute there is absolutely no reason why the rich/ bourgoise as a class should exist, they are parasitic, cannabilistic, and sucking the life out of the poor to maintain their lifestyles at our expense, if you think for one minute people should feel bad about their completely vacant uncared for property’s are gonna get seized to house victims of a horrific crime against the poor then the problem is with you.
Here’s some completely self-indulgent headcanons, mostly to cheer myself up…
So, you may recall that survival AU where Enjolras and Feuilly escaped the barricade and ran Eastwards, all the way to Hungary? (And they also get together on the way?)
Given a couple of years we find them on a much more equal footing than what they started out with. Enjolras lost most of his wealth and has to work for a living - mostly translations and similar odd jobs. And while back at home Feuilly might have only been a poor working-class artisan, one of many, nothing special… here at Pest? He’s a Real French Artist, Right From Paris! Comissioning him is a right status symbol!
The question of money is a bit of an odd issue. Thing is, having spent so much time in near starvation, Feuilly is accutely aware of their finances, but he’s also the one who’s more likely to spend on ‘’’frivolities’’’. See, while he’s every bit as idealistic as Enjolras he doesn’t believe that austerity is such an integral part of being a Revolutionary. He’s not going to turn his nose up at a nice meal or the occasional night at the theatre, or a good quality coat that’s nice and soft and actually keeps the wearer warm. It’s not like he’s suddenly become some luxury-loving bourgoise, just. You know. Small, nice things he couldn’t afford before.
And Enjolras may not care about his own enjoyment one bit, but really, it’s good to see his partner happy. He also notices that Feuilly feels safest in small, enclosed, cosy spaces, so when he has some extra money, he usually spends it on improving their bedroom.
Feuilly is the one who uses endearments, and uses them often. It’s usually ‘darling’, ‘dear’ and ‘sweetheart’ in any and all of the languages he knows. Enjolras loves it, but reciprocating doesn’t come naturally for him. What he does instead is to call Feuilly by nicknames. His first name is Benjamin, so Enjolras either calls him Ben or Benji.
(They take a shine to this one café downtown, where they meet some interesting folks. It’s called the Café Pilvax. *insert intense wriggling of eyebrows*)
Hey everyone!! I found a prompt on Tumblr that I loved and i just couldn’t resist!!! So I messaged the person who wrote it and she told me to go ahead and write to my hearts content so I did!!!
Sorry that it’s so short but there should be more coming shortly!!!
As always, enjoy and maybe leave me a comment or two???
Nestled in the foothills of a vast mountain range is a series of five kingdoms that vary in size. In one of the largest and wealthiest of these kingdoms is the one ruled by Gabriel Agreste. King Agreste is greedy and selfish, constantly looking for the next way to increase his coffers. In his latest attempt, the greedy king invited the eldest princess from each of the five surrounding nations to a week long celebration. At the end of which, Adrien will choose a bride and the two kingdoms will merge.
Unbeknownst to the eighteen year old and to his father’s delight, the invitations were received well and promptly returned.
All except one.
In the royal palace of one of the smallest kingdoms the eldest princess, Marinette Dupain-Cheng did not feel the same happiness as the other girls when she opened her invitation. In fact, Marinette crumpled the piece of parchment into a ball, tossed it in the direction of her advisor and stormed out of the room.
The flustered advisor hurried after her, calling out for her as he closed the distance. “Princess Marinette please. You are being quite ridiculous. King Agreste specifically asked for the eldest princess from each kingdom. you have a dut–”
He was abruptly cut off when a pink slipper came hurtling in his direction. “Do not tell me about my duty. You know as well as I do that Adrian will choose the spoilt brat Chloe Bourgoise.”
The advisor started to speak again but he stopped when he saw Marinette’s steely glare. She was about to tell him exactly what she thought he could do with her so called ‘duty’ when her mother breezed down the hallway.
Seeing the tornado her daugher was causing, Sabine thought that it would be best if she stepped in now rather than later. “Thank you James, that will be all for now.” she said in dismissal, walking around to stand in front of her daughter.
Sabine didn’t give Mari time to argue, shoving her into the throne room and closing the heavy oak doors behind her as gently as she could.
“What’s this I hear about an invitation to go to the Agreste kingdom?” Sabine said, resting her hands on her hips and looking Marinette straight in the eye.
Marinette groaned and let her head fall back. If her mother had found out then she really had no choice. She would be making the two day trip to the Agreste kingdom.
Sure enough, Sabine didn’t waste any time. “You must go darling, if only to make our house known.”
Mari sighed and nodded quickly, causing her midnight colored hair to bounce with the movement. The seventeen year old knew that it was pointless to try and find a reason not to go.
Sabine smiled and wrapped her daughter in a tight hug. “Chin up Mari my dear, you never know, the prince could choose you!”
Mari rolled her eyes but smiled at her mother’s words. She supposed that although her chances were slim, slim is better than no chance at all and besides, it would be an excuse see prince Adrien and that made her heart pound just thinking about it.
Sabine pulled out of the hug and held her daughter at arms length. “Now, what outfits shall you wear to the celebrations? There’s bound to be a party every night and you need to shine brighter than any star if you want to get prince Adrien’s attention.”
Before she could answer, Sabine turned pulling Marinette with her and the two walked out of the throne room, toward Marinette’s.
Bahorel and Prouvaire for the Scenario questions?:D
They’d probably start calling eachother husbands for the heck of it, as a Statement.
To stave off the onset of actual panic Bahorel would loudly bemoan how bad the air is down at his level, how he missed the fresh currents of high altitudes and the view that came with it.
Prouvaire wouldn’t be in the mood he’d just snap at him like ‘I get it I’m short, will you shut up now?’.
After the first wave of panic has passed Jehan is left slightly scared of his new strength like… He just wanted to move that table a bit! He geared up to the task as he always would and! And it just flipped over, just like that!
They’d drive eachother up the wall very quickly. Either because Prouvaire’s mind sometimes simply refuses to go quiet and whatever substance he tries to remedy the situation with just aggravates it… Or because the endless alternating exchanges of ‘Bahorel, no!’/’BAHOREL YES!!’ and ‘PROUVAIRE NO!’/’Prouvaire yes!’…
OH NO only one bed at the hotel
Oh wailey wailey! O.O Ah well, I think they’d have a sum total of zero qualms about sharing the bed, whether there’s any romantic tension between them at that point or no. The only problem may be that Bahorel is HUGE and may accidentally squish Jehan or force him out of the bed.
The one thing I know is that if they don’t end up somewhere between 1200 and 1400 Jehan would be inconsolable.
Their first kiss
I think the first one would be very casual, even if their relationship turned more lower-case-romantic over time.
Meeting the parents
I don’t think either set of parents would be hit very hard… Bahorel’s are stubbornly and unconditionally proud of their son, they’d probably think this whole ‘living with another man’ thing is a farce to stick it to the bourgoise, and would cheer him on.
Jehan’s parents… I’m afraid they never thought much of their child. Or his ideals. Or his interests. Or his friends. Bahorel has a field day pissing them off when he finally meets them.
Moving in together
Interestingly, it’d radically reduce the mess is Jehan’s living space. Bahorel may not care about strict order in society, and objectively couldn’t be accused of excessive orderliness in his personal life, but compared to Jehan’s standards he’s the guardian angel of well organised, neat homes.
A crossover of my choice
Either combined with the timetravel AU or just pushing them back in time, I’d love to see what they’d have to say to the Notre Dame de Paris cast… Anyway, Jehan would love the atmosphere.
An au of my choice
…Someone pls write a Beauty and the Beast kind of AU where Jehan is the Beast. He’s lounging around in this huge gothic castle, with its enormous, well-stocked library… He’d be having the time of his life, but he’s very lonely - his appearence tends to scare all potential visitors away. So now he mostly spends his days writing sad poems.
All that changes when Bahorel, an adventurous guy from the nearby village comes to explore the castle, takes one good look at Jehan and is like ‘AWSOME!!!’.
If you like, another trope/scenario of your choice
No matter the timeline or AU, Bahorel isn’t much concerned with stressing over masculinity. He’ll freely cry over operas or baby kittens, dress in pink if he so pleases, hug his friends and give bisous, and if anyone has a problem with it they can take it up with him. (They usually don’t bother.)
The one thing he’ll bend over backwards to prove is that he’s not a coward. And see, he isn’t scared of most things… except gosts. He’s terrified of anything supernatural.
Which is exceedingly infortunate, because in any possible timeline or AU Jehan is obsessed whith just that.
And of course if there’s one thing Bahorel is even more scared of than ghosts, it’s letting Jehan face them alone. Which Jehan routinely mistakes as enthusiasm for the subject and drags poor Bahorel all over the various cemeteries and haunted houses of France.
Beautiful Christine chicks: Christine/Christina Nilsson who is the model for Christine Daae in the Leroux novel. She was born in 1843 in a small cottage, the youngest of several brothers and one sister. She came from very humble origins and started playing the violin and singing at fairs and inns at a very young age. The first pic of her in the scarf was drawn when she was about eleven years old and published in a Stockholm newspaper.
Christina was discovered while singing at the fair in Ljungby, by district judge Tornerhielm. He decided that he would provide for her education. She took singing lessons for Adelaide Valerius Leuhusen, moved to Gothenburg and Stockholm and kind of started to move away from her peasant background into a more bourgoise environment. Eventually she moved to Paris to continue her singing education.
In 1864 she made her debut at Theatre Lyrique as Violetta in La Traviata. Other roles she sang were The Queen of the Night, Ophelia in Thomas’ Hamlet and of course Marguerite in Gounod’s Faust.
Christina died in Växjö, her hometown in 1921 as the countess di Casa Miranda. She is buried in a mausoleum in Växjö.
You can visit the graveyard in Växjö where she is buried. You can also visit her childhood home, the small cottage Snugge just outside Växjö. And you can have lunch at Villa Vik which is where the rich singer/countess Christina stayed when she visted Växjö in her olden years.
Why don’t you go get roughed up BY THE ENTIRE RED ARMY YOU CLASSIT PIG?
Oh, I get it, you’re all disdrought and remorseful over your dead wife (the same wife you couldn’t give a flying fuck about when she was alive, might I add) and it makes you all ~brooding~ and ~edgy~ but the more you go on about how education would only rob peasants from the bliss of their animalistic ignorance, and how they need, nay, desire hard physical labour and how they aren’t suited for thinking and how being left for dead is better for them than being taken care of in a hospital, the more I wish you’d end up miserable and alone.
Okay, so we aren’t even halfway through, he has plenty of time to turn around but for now…
Andrey Bolkonsky, may you live in interesting times… and by interesting times I mean the Soviet Revolution of 1917 you bourgoise slug.