where jean valjean was there happiness was

Y'know sometimes I go through a period where I forget how much I love the brick, and then one day I’ll suddenly be reminded and I just get filled with the pure joy and happiness that comes from Good Old Vicky’s Ridiculously Long Chapter Titles ™ and Javert’s Drama™ Queen personality and the amount of ExTrA™ contained In everything Enjolras says and I get overwhelmed by how much I mcFreaking LOVE this goddamn weirdass French novel written by a 19th century artsy Fuckboy

A Summary of Les Mis Songs
  • Look Down: *rhythmic and dramatic grunting*
  • At The End Of The Day: everyday is a shit day
  • I Dreamed A Dream: life goals
  • Lovely Ladies: the immediate shielding song (but so catchy)
  • Who Am I: i must question who i am. i am a number.
  • The Confrontation: surprise bitch. bet you thought you saw the last of me.
  • Castle On A Cloud: dream house
  • Master Of The House: LET'S GET TURNT
  • Stars: i must get the bread man
  • Red/Black: pretty boys who sing about justice
  • Do You Hear The People Sing: WE'RE GONNA WRECK SHIT. FOR THE PEOPLE.
  • In My Life: cosette, you're such a lonely child
  • A Heart Full Of Love: hi girl behind fence i like you
  • On My Own: notice me senpai
  • A Little Fall Of Rain: i like you marius. *dies*
  • Bring Him Home: i need to make cosette happy this boy seems to do it
  • Empty Chairs at Empty Tables: where are my friends. oh they're dead.
  • Epilogue: *intense crying*
On Bittersweet Endings

Anonymous asked: “What, in your opinion, is a bittersweet ending?”

Sometimes writers will try to tell me that the endings of stories like The Great Gatsby or Hamlet have bittersweet endings but those are tragedies. There isn’t “sweetness” attached to them. 

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I have to ask-- who's Ramin Karimloo and how do you pronounce his name?


Easy part out of the way first, and man, I really wish I had a video that was a compilation of everyone mispronouncing his name (accidentally or for laughs), and all the times he corrects/ explains how his name is pronounced. XD Someone please make this for me, I’ll find the appropriate clips to send you to be edited together lol.


  • Ra (like the Egyptian sun god, someone who’s not me would make a “he’s hot” joke…)
  • -meen (the opposite of Ramin’s kind nature)


  • Kar (he’s very caring) -
  • im (he is such an imp actually???)
  • loo (what can I say, he’s a bit of a loon, a bit loopy: he’s a dork)

Ramin is:

  • youngest actor to play the Phantom/Erik in The Phantom of the Opera in a professional production (not sure if this is still to date?)
  • only actor to play all three men in Christine’s (Phantom of the Opera) life, as the Phantom, Raoul, and Christine’s father in the 2004 film.
  • Canadian-Iranian, whose family escape from the revolution in their homeland when he was a baby and eventually settled in Ontario.
  • met his hero, Colm Wilkinson, played both iconic characters Colm has played, Colm is proud of his actor Son. Literally, I could go on about the long story of Colm and Ramin and how precious they are whenever they appear together, but I will spare you for now.
  • fell in love with musical theater as a hockey-playing jock when he went to see POTO because it was better than classwork. Bet his buddies he would be the Phantom - and he did.
  • his wife and two sons are the sun, moon, stars, gravity, and oxygen in his universe.
  • believes that following your dream means actually getting out there and working your butt off to get it done and never giving up until you make it and don’t stop once you get there - you’re never owed anything.
  • Should Have Won That Tony In 2014.
  • did NOT want to play Jean Valjean in Les Miserables because he was afraid of doing it poorly, WAS ASKED to “do me a favor” and play Valjean by the show’s producer, and then became one of the most beloved actors to portray the character in the show’s long history.
  • lowkey fans will tell you he is sexy
  • highkey fans will tell you he is an adorkable nerd
  • actually: both equally are true.
  • steals his co-stars’ candy a lot
  • has. the best??? smile??? and laugh???? ever??????
  • personally, got me through a period of time where I was extremely depressed and apathetic: inspired me, gave me good music and happy content, made me get out there and do stuff.
  • passionate
  • currently can be seen as the antagonist of Anastasia, the Broadway Musical

First time (questionably??? I don’t remember, but I think) I saw/heard him:

Something more recent:

and something incredible:

Now, if you are interested, the best ways to learn about this adorable dork are just to watch the YouTube vlogs from Broadway.com that are Vlogger 24601, and the current Royal Misfits vlog.

Thanks for letting me talk about my hero!


Pamela Wallin: But everybody thought Les Mis is gonna be a flub…

Colm Wilkinson: Yeah, and the press, they were vicious in London… So it was great to come back for the 10th Anniversary at The Royal Albert Hall in London, and go… well, I won’t tell you what I did… 

PW: What did you do?

CW: I did that [showing the V sign]. But now I wanna say “Hey, where are you now, you twits?!”

Things you wouldn’t expect Colm to do or say xD

I have reached

that very happy point in my experience in the cosy and affectionate Valvert fandom where I am intimately convinced that the Jump never happened, that Canon in this case does not apply. A bit, in short, like the way I never wanted to accept Fred’s death and I never have, so he’s always alive when I think of the Potterverse.

anonymous asked:

Fic title: So Much Bread, So Little Time

send me a fic title and i’ll write you a fic

In between gardening and visiting Cosette, he is granted that most precious of resources.


Hard labour had been all he had known for many years, fuelled by the need to provide for his sister’s ever-growing family and by the butt of a guard’s gun in Toulon. After Toulon, after the precious gift of candlesticks and silver, he had chosen instead to strive towards a future where he was in a position to help those who might otherwise have ended up in a similar situation to his past.

But now, instead of a town to save and protect, he had a daughter - a gift he had never expected to receive, a gift more precious even than the candlesticks he still prayed beside nightly. His attention was wholly fixated on her well-being and happiness. Cosette was content within the convent and thus the man once known as Jean Valjean was content too.

With security granted for Valjean and Cosette, he could avoid the past and pause in his worriment of the future, and instead take joy in the small pleasures of the here and now. Fauchelevent was a willing companion and Cosette continuously blessed his days with her chatter of convent life, and Valjean found the scent of the blossoming flowers under his hands that much sweeter.

The girls would sneak to Valjean sometimes, full of giddy nerves at the prospect of the nuns catching them conversing with a man. Valjean indulged them as often as he could, as Cosette had asked him to, delighting them with facts of why he undertook the gardening rituals that he did. Their favourite was in winter, when he would gently break a seemingly dead twig for them only to reveal the pale green shoot within that proved the plant to be thriving.

There was another woman who would talk with Valjean too, on occasion - at first to request bunches of nettles for the purpose of soup to feed the girls, and later small inquiries about the weather and suggestions for broths Valjean and Fauchelevent could cook for themselves. It was not until she put forth a recipe for a certain kind of bread that Valjean admitted he did not cook bread himself and instead relied on the cheapest loaf he could buy when he was permitted into town.

“Not cook bread?” she repeated, aghast, and without further ado Valjean was swept under her wing and into her kitchen.

He began to return to the cottage he shared with Fauchelevent with flour coating his skin rather than dirt, his hands almost spectral in the candlelight before he rinsed them. The bread kneaded and baked earlier, he would place at the table and share with Fauchelevent, and Fauchelevent would praise his bakery skills with a fervour that made Valjean colour in embarrassment. After all, the bread was only a misshapen brown lump with a crust so thick Valjean feared he or his companion would break their teeth.

Nevertheless, the next time Valjean left the convent he sought out baking materials instead of the usual ready-made loaf, and while Fauchelevent dozed by the fire in the evenings, Valjean would practice. Eventually he presented a small sweet roll to Cosette without ceremony during one of her visits; she took a bite and his heart ached in fondness at her resulting smile.

Baking became routine, a part of his life that ate into time he would have floundered with otherwise. He tended the garden during the day and baked during the evenings, his work ready to be eaten come morning. The scent of fresh bread filled their small cottage, Cosette would visit and leave with her pockets bulging with rolls for her classmates, and Valjean grew fond of the flour settling over his clothes like snowflakes.

Fauchelevent passed away one winter. Cosette’s arm pressed into Valjean’s as they rounded the garden and suddenly he was aware of how tall she had grown, how much like an adult she sounded as she talked of her studies.

There had been so much time and now all he had was an empty cottage.

He arranged for them to leave the convent.

knowing you by heart [my favorite fictional fathers & daughters]
↪ Jean Valjean and Cosette Fauchelevent, Les Misérables

Fate abruptly brought together, and wedded with its resistless power, these two shattered lives, dissimilar in years, but similar in sorrow. The instinct of Cosette sought a father, as the instinct of Jean Valjean sought for a child. To meet, was to find one another. In that mysterious moment, when their hands touched, they were welded together. When their two souls saw each other, they recognized that they were mutually needed, and they closely embraced.

She loved her father…with all her heart, with a frank filial passion which made the goodman a very welcome and pleasant companion for her. … When she had come up to him after a good chase after the butterflies, she would come up to him and breathless and say, “Oh! How I have run!” He would kiss her forehead.

Cosette adored the goodman. She was always running after him. Where Jean Valjean was, was happiness. … The poor man shuddered, overflowed with an angelic joy; …he said to himself that he really had not suffered enough to deserve such radiant happiness, and he thanked God, in the depths of his soul, for having permitted that he, a miserable man, should be so loved by this innocent being.

Hugo, Victor. Les Misérables Volume II, Book IV, chapter II - A Nest For Owl and Wren, Signet Classics (Based on the C. E. Wilbour translation)

“It was in front of the Gorbeau Structure that Jean Valjean came to a halt. Like birds of prey, he had chosen loneliest place to make his nest.

He fumbled in his waistcoat and took out a sort of pass key, opened the door, entered, then carefully closed it again and ascended the stairway, still carrying Cosette.

[…]The little girl, with that tranquil confidence that belongs only to extreme strength or extreme weakness, had fallen asleep without knowing with whom she was and went on sleeping without knowing where she was.

[…]Cosette, without bothering to understand anything, was inexpressibly happy with her doll and her good friend.”

Hugo, Victor. Les misérables Tome II, Livre quatrième, Chapitre II - Nid pour Hibou et Fauvette, iBooks

“Ce fut devant cette masure Gorbeau que Jean Valjean s’arrêta. Comme les oiseaux fauves, il avait choisi le lieu le plus désert pour y faire son nid. Il fouilla dans son gilet, y prit une sorte de passe-partout, ouvrit la porte, entra, puis la referma avec soin, et monta l’escalier, portant toujours Cosette.

[…]La petite fille, avec cette confiance tranquille qui n’appartient qu’à l’extrême force et qu’à l’extrême faiblesse, s’était endormie sans savoir avec qui elle était, et continuait de dormir sans savoir où elle était.

[…]Cosette, sans s’inquiéter de rien comprendre, était inexprimablement heureuse entre cette poupée et ce bonhomme.”

I’m sick of Cosette being played by white women and Éponine being played by women of color as a shorthand to indicate their social classes.

Cosette becomes wealthy, but Cosette is the daughter of a single mother factory worker who became a prostitute because she couldn’t otherwise afford to care for Cosette. Cosette should be played by a woman of color, as we acknowledge the struggles of people of color, even if it makes the audience see her as less sophisticated, less of an appropriate love interest, and less of a protagonist.

Women of color can be sophisticated, too. Women of color deserve to have people fall in love with them, too. Women of color deserve to be protagonists, too. Women of color deserve to end up happy, too.

If Éponine is the only woman of color, it creates a sense that she was already set to fail. Admittedly, she was never going to have a happy ending with Marius, but the problem lies with the shorthand. Color becomes a shorthand for ‘morally ambiguous,’ ‘not a love interest,’ and ‘not a protagonist.’

In fact, there are a whole bunch of roles that should actually be played by people of color. Javert, Jean Valjean, Fantine, Madame and Monsieur Thenardier, Montparnasse…

There’s no reason to pander to the existing toxic representations, not when a great deal of the story is about social inequalities and their rectification, and love, and not when we live in a world where we have the privilege of creating a better one in which no one uses these toxic representations.