MY MUM THINKS THE LYRICS ARE "I CHIME IN WITH A HAVEN’T YOU PEOPLE EVER HEARD OF FEEDING THE GODDAMN POOR?" I’M CRYING
Les mis: pop-punk edition
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@foudroiement
MY MUM THINKS THE LYRICS ARE "I CHIME IN WITH A HAVEN’T YOU PEOPLE EVER HEARD OF FEEDING THE GODDAMN POOR?" I’M CRYING
Les mis: pop-punk edition
Barricades? What barricades? You mean pillow forts. For the party. Yeah, good times. Les amis, such cuties and dorks, totally alive and doing adorable fluffy stuff.
— Complete and Utter Denial, an autobiography by me
Shows up 15 minutes late to the revolution with Starbucks
casual reminder that jean valjean learned how to read and write in prison so that he could gain more of an edge in seeking revenge against the people who caused him to waste 19 years of his life but what he actually ended up doing with this skill was bringing the economy of a seaside town back to life and teaching a little girl the alphabet
oh my god in my dream last night my little cousin was over and my mom told her to go check if i was awake and i was like half-asleep and she goes back to my mom and is giggling about how i was naked and i got so pissed and i started shouting NO I'M NOT NAKED I'M IN A FUCKING SHIFT IF IT WAS GOOD ENOUGH TO NOT MAKE JEAN VALJEAN NAKED THEN IT'S GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME
it wasn’t worth it
Other Girls: Fake Boobs, Fake Tan, Make Up, Thigh Gap, Jersey Shore, Justin Bieber, Pop Music, Starbucks
Me: Red smock, lifting flagpoles, fake names, buying children, giving alms, homoerotic tension, 24601, who am I? I’m Jean Valjean.
I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour, but heaven knows I’m miserable now.
Grantaire, Book III (via incorrectlesmisquotes)
friendship: your friend is talking about their local Les Mis production's enjolras and you ask 'omg does he *know*' and your friend knows exactly what you're asking
Grantaire: What if I can't make it to the revolution? What if I'm doing something that can't be cancelled?
Enjolras: Grantaire, when are you ever doing something that can't be cancelled?
Remember that time Jean Valjean told Cosette she needed to get a maid.
And Cosette answered, “Have I not Marius?”
Never forget this thing.
Cosette haters.
I’m looking at you.
Okay…I’m still fiddling with all the lighting effects and this is a rush job of a couple of hours, but fwiw…
“June 6, 1842”
Wait, is this Marius and Courfeyrac? =*((((((
Forgotten this one! But yes, Marius and Courfeyrac.
A Les Mis Meta Post
I guess you think this thing, huh? Wow. Well, you’re really wrong. I can’t even believe how wrong you are. See, this is what I think. And this is how I understand it. Yeah, I know, Me, I am The One who knows. And you are not. How could you possibly not know this and then write the character in a way that isn’t congruent with this very specific historical information? Because I knew. Me. I Knew this information already and I can write it in large words. I am Smart and Important at Les Misérables
For your convenience and to help you understand what I am telling you, I will helpfully reference passages of this obscure book that's entirely in German. Untranslated.
so that i may speak so that i may live so that i may dream and fight i love you i honor you i carry your struggles in my heart i carry you all in my heart
x.
I’m not saying he was gay but he sure wasn’t into women and he was a lot like these gay guys just sayin
Victor Hugo (via quietlikecreepifying)
ahhh, the sweet smell of misinterpreted characters whose personalities and backstories and existences are horribly warped to fit ships that don’t make sense
every time i see something come up on my dash that has a weird bearded dude in it, i hold my breath for one brief, glorious, terrifying moment and wonder, “is that…………george blagden?” i stare at the wall of my bedroom, not sure whether i have the courage to look back at my laptop screen and find out. “has he opened his cute garbage mouth again?” i ask aloud, my question floating out into the ether, perhaps picked up by the alien recording devices his lizard kin have already implanted in our homes. “has he cut his hair yet? has he composed another filk ballad?”
almost always, the answer is no, it’s not george blagden. no, he hasn’t cut that lank, dirty seaweed off his head yet. no, he hasn’t sat down in front an honest to jesus webcam and recorded a badly-worded exR version of “i will follow you into the dark.” no. it’s not george blagden. and while i feel a sense of peace washing away the adrenaline that spiked when i thought, just for a moment, that it might be him, when my fight-or-flight instincts demanded that i either look at the post again, deliberately, or else fling my computer across the room and be rid of it forever, i can’t help but notice the small piece of my soul - just a pinprick, really, but i can feel it throbbing through the whole of my shitty consciousness - that wishes, vaguely but insistently, that the post had been about george blagden.