So I'm Still Going Through Most Of This Blog, Archiving The Old Rp Stuff Offline And Deleting The Posts

rolls up a year and a half late with starbucks and part one of the kaysanova getting-together fic series, in which nicky develops a conscience and absolutely no one gets together except to kill each other some more

Street rat… turned thief

“A lugubrious being was Montparnasse. Montparnasse was a child; less than twenty years of age, with a handsome face, lips like cherries, charming black hair, the brilliant light of springtime in his eyes; he had all vices and aspired to all crimes.

The digestion of evil aroused in him an appetite for worse. It was the street boy turned pickpocket, and a pickpocket turned garroter. He was genteel, effeminate, graceful, robust, sluggish, ferocious. The rim of his hat was curled up on the left side, in order to make room for a tuft of hair, after the style of 1829. He lived by robbery with violence. His coat was of the best cut, but threadbare. 

Montparnasse was a fashion-plate in misery and given to the commission of murders. The cause of all this youth’s crimes was the desire to be well-dressed. The first grisette who had said to him: “You are handsome!” had cast the stain of darkness into his heart, and had made a Cain of this Abel. Finding that he was handsome, he desired to be elegant: now, the height of elegance is idleness; idleness in a poor man means crime. Few prowlers were so dreaded as Montparnasse. At eighteen, he had already numerous corpses in his past. More than one passer-by lay with outstretched arms in the presence of this wretch, with his face in a pool of blood. Curled, pomaded, with laced waist, the hips of a woman, the bust of a Prussian officer, the murmur of admiration from the boulevard wenches surrounding him, his cravat knowingly tied, a bludgeon in his pocket, a flower in his buttonhole; such was this dandy of the sepulcher.”

i would say “dark andrew davies show me the forbidden les mis ship” but we all know he wouldn’t touch fanvert with a 10 foot pole even though he’ll happily imply valjean/cosette. the coward. the imbecile. the utter fool

me: alright i’m not so much concentrating on les mis anymore my new focus is the three musketeers! new interest! we’re broadening our scope! that’s diversification baby!

also me: If I See One More Alternate Universe Where Everyone Lives Except Fantine, Whose Death Apparently Is A Fixed Part Of The Timeline, I’m Gonna McFreakin’ Lose It

-Vaarsuvius, how'd ye ever learn so much aboot how folks fall in love? Ye don't seem the type, really. -Only through empirical experience did I arrive at such knowledge. It took my mate and me many years to acknowledge our feelings for one other. Our wedding was the finest day of my long life.

I’ve been Compromised by the latest OOTS update so here, have some newlyweds.

I just used the line “that’s not an asshole move, it’s a whole asshole ballet” and I’m kinda proud of it so it’s going here where it will get the recognition it deserves.

trying out another new style, this time with a friend's oc.

oh, and it's one thing to count the stars in the sky but it's another to count the bells in your laugh (all the music theory in the world cannot describe its resonance in my chest or the warmth it burns in my heart), for what can the stars give me that you have not already given, and given more freely? the stars shine bright but they cannot compare to the brightness of your eyes. I may see the stars inscribed lovingly on black velvet, a love song to the eternity of space and time, an inscription of the galaxies contained within the earth -- chasms filled to the brim with glittering multifaceted wonders -- but your eyes, your laugh, are worth more than any jewel. -- no. no, there can be nothing else but that laugh which contains within it all the joys the world can know. I would do a thousand foolish things to hear that laugh again.

to her: letters, i.