modern au little kid Cosette repeatedly asking Valjean for more information about his past and Valjean saying nothing but that he’s made mistakes but that he tries his best to move forward and help people now and that’s what matters
And Cosette approaches him one day declaring that she’s got him figured out and he’s really nervous all of a sudden because how does she know
and she very calmly and rationally tells him that she knows he’s Batman and he’s chosen her for his Robin
and he laughs and kisses her and tells her that if he were Batman, she’d be his first pick for Robin
and then he buys her a Robin t shirt and a Batman t shirt for himself and sometimes they wear them together on the weekends and it’s the actual cutest thing
you should only do cardio 3x a week at most!!!!!
trackies, marathoners, basically every runner ever:
whats a cardio?
I wish. I wish so bad.
I bet you anything that sometimes when Charles has a song stuck in his head he just kind of broadcasts it out and everyone runs around the school humming “It’s a small world after all” under their breaths until Logan slaps earphones over the professor’s head and makes him listen to
anything something else
The lovely, flawless, and wonderful en-shaedn wrote a fic that takes place in the Shush verse and it’s one of the best things I’ve read in ages. Behold how Gawain met fancy Uncle Arthur, though the uncle part comes later:
Terence wiped down the glass absently as he walked down the bar. It was quiet tonight in Shush; it was late on a Tuesday night, and there weren’t many customers. Gawain was in the back, but other than him, there was only Trevisant, and he wasn’t really a customer anyway. “Hey Trevisant.” Terence greeted him – again – as he walked past to put the glass away.
“Hello Terence! I say, this stew is quite good. What kind is it?” Terence smiled at the man who had raised him.
“It’s hotpot, Trevisant. Lamb and onions and potatoes.” Trevisant looked down at the dish with a critical eye.
“Please do pass my compliments on to your chef. This is very good.” Terence nodded at him and felt a little like laughing; this was the third time tonight that they’d had this same conversation. And Terence had made the stew. It was nice to be complimented so genuinely for something.
He and Trevisant chattered for a while, letting the night pass them by. It was cozy in Shush, and the darkness had a friendly quality to it. Good company and good food in the belly made for happy people. After a time, even Gawain came out and joined them. His big laugh filled the room more than once, and it was during one of these laughs that Trevisant turned sharply to face the door.
“Oh dear, lad, do go get the stew pot.” Terence moved into the kitchen without hesitation. He wasn’t going to be the one to ignore Trevisant when he Saw something. He grabbed the heavy stew pot and went back out to the front. Gawain was looking at Trevisant curiously. Terence just watched the door. He had never seen the man be wrong with one of his predictions, though the stew pot…was a little odd.
The door crashed open just as Gawain turned to Terence to ask him a question. In the door stood a man. A big man. A very big man; his muscles were probably the size of Terence’s head. It was obvious he went to the gym rather a lot.
It was also obvious, by the way he staggered into Shush, that he was drunk as could be. Terence spoke up before he could get too close, “Hello sir. How can I help you?” No way he was giving this man any more alcohol, and if he asked-
“Drink! I need drinksh. Whishkey or bourbon man whasha got?” Terence frowned. He could tell what the man was asking for, but only barely. He wasn’t going to get it here.
“I’m sorry, but it’s my responsibility as a bartender to not give you any more. It would be irresponsible of me. We have water, or soft drinks that I would be happy to serve you.” The man didn’t take this very well.
“Don’t you know who I am?” Terence looked at Gawain doubtfully as the drunkard postured across the room. Was he supposed to recognize him? Gawain shrugged at him. Guess not. “I’m George Hautubrish.” Still nothing. And it sounded like he was still slurring. “Give me what I ashk for.” Right. This man was very rude.
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You’re drunk and disturbing the other customers.” Trevisant looked up from his spot at the bar and nodded obligingly when Terence looked at him. George H-something glared at them from halfway across the room, an ugly glint in his eye. As long as he glared from over there, Terence was fine. He didn’t want Trevisant getting hurt. But H-guy wasn’t done.
“Fine, if I can’t have drinksh, I want food! What ‘e had.” He pointed imperiously – and off centered – at the bowl still out next to Trevisant’s elbow.
“Sir, there isn’t any left. And-” Gawain was interrupted by the drunk.
“Not any left?! There’sh a whole pot right there.” He jabbed his finger at the pot next to Terence and almost fell over.
Gawain managed to not roll his eyes. Barely, but he managed. “It’s empty, sir. Look.” He turned the pot – which had dried up ages ago and was most definitely empty – and turned it over his head. “Nothing came out. Because it’s empty. And you’ve already been asked to leave. Now-” George Hautybritches charged across the room, fists up, about to attack.
Gawain moved like a flash, rapping his fists with the pot. The drunk yelped in pain and then staggered forward, unwilling to lose face. That was when Gawain hit him upside the head with the pot, and the drunk dropped like a particularly dense stone. Trevisant, who had moved back behind the bar with Terence before the first sign of trouble, cheered.
“There it is young man! That’s going to be the start of something wonderful.” With that he rapped Terence on the shoulder with his knuckles and said, “It’s time for us to be off, lad.” Terence looked at Gawain.
Gawain looked at his friend and shrugged. “I won’t ask, lad. I’ll take care of this. Take him home. And uh…” The big red head grinned uncertainly for a moment. “You were never here, of course.” Terence smiled gratefully back at his boss and ghosted off to take Trevisant back to Lorie’s house. Gawain looked at the drunk on the floor, who was now snoring, sighed, and called the police.
The next day was a normal business day, but Gawain stayed for the evening shift anyway. He didn’t want to leave Terence alone in case any of Hautubris’ friends came around. It was, perhaps, a very good thing he did.
Three men walked into Shush, right after the dinner time rush. The one on the right was a detective for the Yard, and Gawain looked at him warily. George Hautubris had been, apparently, a low ranking detective of some sort in the yard, and while the officers who came to fill out a report had been neither surprised nor angry to find him passed out on Shush’s floor, there was always someone…
The detective walked straight up to the bar and looked Gawain in the eye. “You the man who knocked out that drunk Hautubris?” Gawain eyed him and his two friends. The one he recognized as some politician, one Arthur Pendragon. The other one might have been on the telly a few times in connection to Pendragon’s campaign, Lance something or other. Neither really looked like fighters, and he doubted a politician could really get too involved in a bar brawl.
“Yes.” You gonna do anything about it? Kai looked at him for a moment, and then his face split in a huge grin.
“Good man. What do you have to eat?” Terence smiled from over in his corner. Trevisant was right. This could be the start of something amazing.
gps: *says something*
everyone in car: *mocks gps pronunciation*