I am kind of like a zombie right now, functioning solely on caffeine, and everything kind of exploded today because of all days for the health inspector to make a surprise visit and proceed to walk the perishable departments with the one member of general management upon whom I might wish a truly spectacular degree of torment it had to be my first day properly baking, but I celebrated my survival by buying myself a new easel to go with my new brushes so now I suppose I have to actually stop doubting myself and actually paint again.
Which is to say that I dreamed some weird Les Mis/Scion/American Gods crossover shit last night and I am way more fascinated by this idea than I should rightfully be. If anything actually comes of this, of course, it’s going to be the most self-indulgent thing I’ve written since I was a kid. Also probably massively depressing because that’s just how I roll.
Helping (hoping) Daddy make (drops) pancakes.
When trying to find a rubber duck to give to Joly, Jehan couldn’t help buying all of the cute and colorful ones he found for himself. Courfeyrac calls them his Ducky Armada and they blocked up all the drains on Jehan’s street once so they could sail all of his ducks together.
Jehan also gives Joly all sorts of silly shaped and patterned band-aids in his birthday and holiday gifts.
I Feel The Light: September -
They don’t see Grantaire again for almost a week, though they are told on multiple occasions that he’s getting better. In therapy, the topic comes up for all four of them repeatedly and Enjolras silently agrees as Courfeyrac scoffs later “as if they actually care.” Not that the needling nature of the questions stops Enjolras himself from talking about it in his sessions. If it makes his psychiatrist feel like they’re getting something done, he’ll talk about that one specific instance of horrid uselessness forever. At least then he can vomit up half-truths for the man to eagerly swallow rather than trading venom and disappointment through silence and steely glares.