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@ask-jean-vicquemare
Does what it says on the tin type blog
I love Jean. A lot. There's a lot of depth to his character and while I wish I could be serious I'm not gonna take this TOO seriously
Mostly just a place to do my shitty Jean impression!
Other blogs feel free to say Hi!
Ocean or space?
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "... The vastness of the ocean can be contained. Space, not so much. Do with that what you will..."
👁️ 💕 the🧍🧍♀️🧍🏽♂️ & the🧍🧍♀️🧍🏽♂️💕 👁️
so much that they restored the 🏴👑🫅
IM PART SCOTISH FRENCH ITALIAN A LITTLE BIT DANE BUT 100% PARTY ANIMAL CHAMPAGNE!?
SPANIELS I ADORE NAMED AFTER ME TOO LIKE THEM IM HIP WITH THE NATTY HAIR DO
regarding jean valjean i said most of the PLOT happens because he broke his parole
a shocking amount of that book is a detailed account of sewage systems of the period within various parts of the city . rather interesting actually but im the cholera guy so that shouldnt be surprising
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "You.... are the 'cholera guy'..." He repeated with an ounce of disgust, recoiling ever so subtly into his chair. "As in... you enjoy cholera? Or *have* cholera?"
don’t ask how i found you this time buuuuuuut here’s some strawberries! my harvest was plentiful
strawberries, while referred to as such, are not actually berries, as a berry is a fruit with a closed skin, fleshy center, and internal seeds - which includes blueberries, bananas, and pumpkins. raspberries, similarly, are also not berries, but composite fruits.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Also pineapples," he murmured, his fingers delicately picking up a strawberry to drop into his mouth - leafy bitter tops and all. He chewed.
Do you want to go axe throwing?
-JM
JEAN VICQUEMARE - After so long of radio silence, the man has nearly forgotten to check the mail at least once a week. So here he tenses and stands, hands on his desk to brace the panic.
"Jude! Are you still offering! Fuck-" he huffed softly before scrambling. "I need to borrow your printer before we go!"
JEAN VICQUEMARE - Under dim and flickering candle light, Jean sits at his desk, face illuminated by the barest streaks of amber hue. There, on his desk, with his shoulders hunched as if protecting the delicate thing, is a cake. Nothing fancy - something small and simple.
The wax drips down the numbers "2" and "4" placed in the wrong order on spongy layers of vanilla cake. No icing. Just a little bit of jam between.
His fingers slowly swap the numbers, eyes glossed over as they watch the dancing firelight. 42. Jesus christ... is this what it had come to? Did the people he worked with really think he was so old..?
Jean sighed, rubbing his eyes, consequently blowing the candles out. "Happy fucking birthday to me," he drawled to the empty office.
THE BLUE STRANGER - They shuffle up to you like a child, wanting to show off their drawing to a parent. They're holding something behind their back.
"Hey officer. Me again. I see an oddly large amount of people giving you fish on this? So it's my turn."
ENCYCLOPEDIA - The fish's scientific name is Boops Boops.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - The officer stares at the fish, glancing up to the blue stranger with his mouth parted as if to speak.
It shuts with a click of teeth as he schools his expression to its usual scowl. "You..." the word rumbles off into an exhausted sigh. "At least it isn't a fucking salmon."
YOU - You spot an unlabeled blue box on your desk CHESTER MCLAINE - The officer notices your staring and comes to stand beside you. "Some guy showed up and left that for you, Vic. It's food, but lookin' at your track record, you really oughta make sure it's not spiked." He shrugs and walks back to messing around with Mac at his desk. PERCEPTION - The logo on the box seems very similar to the one on the bakery card you were recently given.
LONG BLUE BOX - Inside the box are two confectionary treats and one duck-faced loaf of bread. The colours of the treats are vaguely themed. You aren't sure whether the faces on the snacks are begging you to eat them or to not. EMPATHY - The Blue Stranger noticed your brief window-shopping of their bakery recently and wanted to indulge you. Their affection for you runs deep. SAVOIR FAIRE - Damn it. I thought we were being discreet. (ahhhhh im sorry for sending in so many asks......)
JEAN VICQUEMARE - The officers stares down to the confectionary as a million thoughts run through his head - shamefully, most of which are placed in the scales of whether to risk the treat or not.
One, however, lingers; how nice it is to receive food especially when small fortunes were a scarcity.
He sighs, defeated, as the scales tip towards "do not eat" and woefully boxes the treats.
With his coat over his shoulders, he sets the box down in the breakroom, leaving for the night, assuming they will be gone tomorrow... but not before he pockets the note.
THE BLUE STRANGER — The expression they make isn’t disappointed. Moreso a vague, complex fog of pity.
“That’s alright, officer. If you’d prefer a different pastry I’m very happy to whip it up for you. I hope the world treats you better.”
EMPATHY [Formidable: Success] — They want to give you a card for their bakery. Their hands are twitching, wanting to follow impulse and open a chance to gift you with another treat.
But they don’t.
THE BLUE STRANGER — With the silence beginning to settle, their head tilts in a parting nod and they walk away.
JEAN VICQUEMARE - What an odd thing to say... Nice. But odd. The man furrows his brows, turning the card in his hand, reading the information and absorbing it.
He wondered if he could afford the bakery. "Thanks..." it's a little confused, but genuine and somewhat grateful at best.
Money was tight, but what was it Trant was always saying? Treat yourself. Why not?
hey uhm. idk I think you're really cool, satellite I got you a blueberry cake because I think you could use it <3
JEAN VICQUEMARE - The satellite hesitates and smiles a little awkwardly if not graciously. His face crumples as he takes the blueberries - "I... cannot eat this. But I'm sure it won't go to waste. Thank you."
Hey there Jean, do you believe that you should be able to purchase a blender from a 99p store for 99p? Asking for a friend btw…
JEAN VICQUEMARE - The man pauses and looks down to his cat, Mr. Smurples, sighing in defeat as he rubbed his eyes.
He didn't think this day would come. He didn't think that the choices he made in life would bite him in the ass and come back roaring about blenders.
He entertains this bullshit on a daily with Harry, but strangely, this isn't painful, and he huffs a reluctant laugh.
"Fuck off," he snorts, "It's not possible. But you should be able to, yes. Why the fuck is it called the 99c store if it isn't 99c?"
Happy Valentine's Day, Detective!
JEAN VICQUEMARE - As ever, Jean is late to reading his letters. It's nothing entirely personal, he's just... Morbidly depressed and with that he supposes is an entire lack of motivation.
Still... he smiles softly and hums, nodding once. "Valentines," he murmured, "It's been a while since I've had a card."
He doesn't mention that he's not technically detective or that as long as he's a satellite, he technically doesn't yet qualify for his own position.
It has a nice ring to it, at least.
hello jeanie poo i come bearing gifts
JEAN VICQUEMARE - The man seems hesitant. His brows furrowed. "Alright..." Carefully, he seems to engage and be somewhat receptive to the idea of gifts.
How are your eyes
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "They're better. A lot better. I... I'm partially blinded, but I can manage. I've been put on desk duty; archival, and evidence. It was difficult to adjust to, but I still feel useful. I guess that's the important part, no?"
i love u jean vic
JEAN VICQUEMARE - The officer blinks rapidly in succession for a brief moment, chewing the inside of his cheek while his eyes dart around the empty office he sits in. The soft sodium amber of his lamp dimly lighting the letter, the words so carelessly and yet earnestly written.
He stills, the raging tides now lapping softly against cliff-side with a gentle exhale. He doesn't say a word - doesn't need to.
A tender smile crosses his lips.
"I love you too..." because he does. He adored his city. The people in it. Those that depend on him and his help and the goodness he can bring from his job.
Mackerel
JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Ah," he stirs from his half-asleep state, palm flat down on the desk as he pulls the letter closer, eyes squinted. "Mack... Mackerel..."
Jean rubs his eyes with forefinger and thumb, nodding lethargically. "Alright."