Choco

fcwkes:

all I can think about is poor, queer Teddy Lupin always wondering if his sexuality is okay and if he can talk to someone about it, but he never gets to know that his dad spent most of his life being in love with Sirius Black because his godfather is our very own Harry Unobservant Potter

(via moonfootblupin)

useless-gay-hufflepuff:

I guess you could say that Enjolras and Grantaire’s friendship went out the window.

thecandlesticksfromlesmis:

okay this is not candlestick related so forgive me but ENJOLRAS AND GRANTAIRE BODYGUARD AU?? (i woke up with these in my head so idk what tf i was dreaming about)

• LISTEN, Enjolras is a rich kid who still lives in his father’s house because he can’t escape it
  
• R is hired as his bodyguard cause some radical students are planning an uprising and Enjolras is the sole heir of the Enjolras estate
• (imagine R in one of those hella rad sleek black bodyguard suits) 
  
• Enjolras HATES this idea of a bodyguard and is super cold to R when he arrives
  
• R calls Enjolras “Sir”, first as a formality and then just to annoy him once E specifically requests him not to
  
• At first R is professional, but once Enjolras starts to sass him, he sasses right back (but not when they are in front of Enjolras’ father, cause that man in scary as shit)
• Enjolras mostly ignores R but soon he finds himself subtly rolling his eyes or making facing at R whenever his father invites some royal assface over and E has to be charming 
• This is how R figures out that Enjolras is completely opposed to the government and the King and even his own father, and R starts to see him differently

Lees verder

thebloodofangrybabes:

All the amis know that Grantaire is a dancer, but they’ve all sort of just assumed it’s some kind of modern street dance style he does. Then one day they somehow find out that he’s competing close to the Musain, and they all go there to watch him dance. Turns out the dance is lindy hop and they all stand there awestruck as their scruffy friend skips around like a jazzy faerie on a sugar high.

capital–r:

Good morning I would die for Jehan Prouvaire

(via sparkly-angell)

potterheadravenclaw:

nxrcissamxlfoy:

Headcanon that of fucking course Mcgonagall was invited to Ron and Hermione’s wedding and that during the reception Ron approached her at her table and held out his hand and asked her to dance, “you know, for old times’ sake.”

a legendary post I’ve only seen in screenshots

(via hillmouse)

actualplanetpluto:

The first time Javert is angry. He’d spent the day in court testifying against a man who was actually, definitely, undoubtedly a murderer. The man had gotten off on a technicality and was even now on his way back to his (very large, very fancy) home. Javert entered his own small apartment ready to buckle down on some cases, maybe have some takeout leftovers and try not to think about the murderer who was now free to murder again because he had misfiled a witness statement.
He froze and then pulled his gun when he heard someone moving around his house. They were being awfully loud. While breaking and entering in a cops apartment
He enters the kitchen and lowers his gun when he sees Montparnasse scrubbing down the counter.
“What the hell are you doing?” He asks, indignantly
“Made you dinner,” the little brat answered without looking up
“What? Why?”
“Seemed like you needed it, after what happened”
“How do you know-”
“I was in a holding cell. The other cops were talking about it. They were worried about you. Said you forget to take care of yourself when shit happens. So I made you dinner.”
“You were arrested again?” Javert asked in exasperation. “What for?”
Parnasse smiled. “Breaking and Entering.”
The kid stayed for a long time. He made Javert eat, forced him to watch some horrible movie and then nearly shoved him into the bathroom to take a shower.
When Javert came out, the kid was asleep on the couch.
By morning he was gone.

The second time Javert was just tired. He had been working this case round the clock. He couldn’t afford to waste time. Every second he wasted spelled less of a chance of finding the missing children, spelled more children going missing. Even when the captain forced him to go home he continued working, studying the case in the silence of his empty apartment. He begrudged himself every moment of sleep and was running purely on coffee. His head was buzzing constantly and he was having trouble walking straight.
He reached for his gun when he heard the noises, but he fumbled and dropped it. Parnasse entered the room before he had a chance to pick it up again. He was wearing a floral apron and there was sauce smeared on his nose
“You made dinner again?”
“Yup”
“You were arrested again?”
“Shoplifting”
“Aha. I have work to do.”
“No you don’t. I stole all your case files. You can have them back when I say so”
Javert followed him into the kitchen, ready to argue, but there was another kid there.
It was prouvaire. Fuck. If these two groups were pairing up he was retiring.
Prouvaire waved and signed that dinner would be ready in just a minute. Then he nudges Parnasse who guides Javert to the couch. Javert doesn’t have the energy to fight.
Javert falls asleep practically mid bite.
When he wakes up 10 hours later, he is covered with a bathrobe, his case files are on the coffee table and he has a new idea on the link between the missing children

The third time Javert is in shock. They had been too late. The bomb had gone off. The school had been reduced to an empty shell. Most of the hostages had died. The ones who were still living screamed in fear and pain. He had sat with a little girl while they waited for medical care. She had been blinded and her body twisted in inhuman ways under the wreckage. A pole stuck through her chest. He didn’t know how bad it was. He didn’t know what it had hit. He sat with her, cradling her head as she begged for her mother.
She hadn’t made it. She had died in his arms before medical came to help
She was four
He closed his eyes and swayed as her broken voice entered his head again, surrounded by the screams and cries of the victims he’d never even approached.
He wanted to scream himself. He wanted to call for his mother. To vomit. To lash out anything
Instead he straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat. He walked into his apartment and frowned when he heard the now familiar sounds of someone in his kitchen.
He walks past the kitchen, unsure if he can handle the seeing them now, and goes straight to his room. He closes the door and just stands there. Not wanting to think. Not wanting to move.
An hour passes before the door opens behind him and Valjean is there. He cannot think enough to question the mayor’s presence. He can’t do much of anything. But Valjean is leading him out to the couch and wrapping him in a blanket. For the shock, his brain supplies. And Valjean is beckoning to the kitchen, where Prouvaire and Parnasse are waiting. And Valjean is making him eat the soup they bring out. And finally Javert starts crying and he doesn’t know how to stop.
In the morning Prouvaire explains that they needed an adult and Cosette’s dad was the only one they could think of. They and Montparnasse stay at his apartment for two days, and the mayor stops in three times

The ninety fifth time Javert is happy but a little frazzled. It’s date night. Valjean is bringing his daughter tonight. He has a ring waiting on his dresser. He had wanted to stay in, do his privately, but the case had run late and there was not enough time to cook.
He nearly cried when he heard the two kids in the kitchen. The table was beautifully set and when he walked into the kitchen, he found Parnasse and Prouvaire busily stirring, and plating food.
“You were definitely not arrested today,” he said to Montparnasse
Prouvaire smiled and signed ‘no. I was.’
“How’d you know about my dinner date?”
“You were talking about it last week when I WAS arrested,” Montparnasse answered hurriedly. “Vandalism.”
He poured some sauce onto the last plate and put the pots in the sink.
“We’ll run now. Let you get ready,” he said, untying his apron.
“No you won’t. Go set two more plates. If Jean is bringing his kid I’m bringing mine, too.”

(via stopcallingmeapollo)