#why Did They Do That To Jean Valjean

il était profond bâtonniste.

we’re on a mission from God. we’ve got a full timeline of the beauxbatons au valvertine fic mapped out from january 1971 through to halloween 1981, got fourteen chapters already out, three chapters fully outlined, it’s dark, and we’re wearing sunglasses.

hit it.

pxrnbot follows me the day tumblr enacts its new policy.

yeah, doesn’t look like much is gonna really change around here.

gold on her head, pearls in her mouth, blood under her fingernails : a Fantine Lives playlist (listen on spotify)

welcome to the jungle guns n’ roses | die young ke$ha | are you gonna be my girl jet | funplex the b-52s | you give love a bad name bon jovi | everybody’s fool evanescence | monster (alternate radio edit) skillet | i miss the misery halestorm | dance with the devil breaking benjamin | animal i have become three days grace | uma thurman fall out boy | ballroom blitz the sweet | beat it (single) michael jackson | no one’s here to sleep naughty boy & bastille | secrets onerepublic | back in black ac/dc

Belle (This Provincial Life) (Reprise)

It seemed that no one else knew what a complete asshole Joly could be.

When he showed his teeth, it was only in a smile or a laugh. When he raised a hand, it was only for a high five. When he picked up a scalpel, it was only to dissect a corpse pinned to the paraffin wax.

But Montparnasse knew otherwise.

That was why Joly went to him, really. Because he wanted more than to be the cheerful hypochondriac. And how could Montparnasse blame him?

Everybody needs someone they can be an asshole around.

Harley and Ivy for @hellotybalt. happy birthday!

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

Stranger: tell me a story

You: once upon a time, there was a little boy who was born in a prison

Stranger: mmmhhmm go on

You: he grew up an outcast, rejected by everyone around him

You: the people who raised him taught him about the law, and how it was very important to follow the law and never ever break it

You: so when he grew up, he decided that there were two kinds of people that other people didn't like: criminals, and policemen

Stranger: ooooh ooh

You: and he decided to be a policeman because he wanted to follow the law

You: one day a convict broke parole, and the policeman chased him across the country

Stranger: omg then what:o

You: the convict took a new name, and the policeman tried as hard as he could - he searched everywhere - but he could not find the convict

You: seventeen years later, a revolution was brewing

You: the policeman went undercover to see if he could spy on the revolutionaries, but he got caught

Stranger: :O

You: the leader of the revolutionaries was going to kill him, but then a man stepped up and offered to do it himself

You: it was the convict from seventeen years ago

Stranger: WHAT

You: the convict took him into an alley, and took out a knife

You: and he cut the policeman's bonds, and told him that he was free to go

You: the policeman couldn't believe it. a convict is a convict is a convict, a bad person, who can never change. but this convict had showed him kindness

Stranger: :OOO

You: the policeman went about his duty, and when the revolution had been successfully squashed, he ran into the convict again. the convict had an injured man with him

You: the policeman told him that he was going to take him to jail, but the convict pleaded a few hours' time, so he could get the injured man back to his family

You: and against every instinct, the policeman let him go

You: he could not believe what he had done. on the one hand, he had broken the law that he had sworn to uphold. on the other hand, he had helped a good man do a good deed.

Stranger: wooooah

You: he wanted to go back and arrest the convict. but again: on the one hand, if he did so, he would be upholding the law, and on the other hand, he would be arresting a good man.

You: his entire world had been turned upside down

You: he realized that if a convict could be a good person, then there had probably been hundreds of good people he had unknowingly put in jail. his whole life had been a lie.

Stranger: omg

You: so he did the only thing he could do

You: or at least, the only thing he thought possible

You: he committed suicide

Stranger: WHAT?

You: that's right. he wrote a letter to the prefect of police, pointing out various corruptions in the system, and he went to a bridge overlooking the most dangerous part of the river, and, placing his hat on the edge of the bridge, he jumped

Stranger: did you just randomly make this up?

Stranger: thats some george orwell shit

You: no, actually. it's victor hugo

Stranger: ...

You: les misérables.

Stranger: fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

Your conversational partner has disconnected.

france: ten

france: twenty

france: thirty

france: forty

france: fifty

france: sixty

france:

france:

france: sixty ten

world: france what are you do—

france: four twenties

world: france stop it

france: four twenties ten

world: france that doesn't even make any sense

france:

france:

france:

world:

france:

world:

france: hundred.

remind me again why i decided to get invested in game of thrones when there are fcking ice zombies and zombies are one of my least favorite horror tropes

...

C’est toujours étrange de se dire qu’on est des milliers à pleurer en même temps.

Cet incendie est à la fois un drame et en même temps… On reconstruira, on rebâtira. Il n’y a pas de morts. On a pu sortir le trésor. Ces pensées se chamboulent dans ma tête pour rationaliser. C’est toujours étrange de voir l’immuable disparaître.

C’est aussi un peu étrange pour notre période qui aime patrimonialiser mais rappelons nous que nos vieux bâtiments sont pour la plupart du temps des agrégats de différentes périodes. Notre Dame n’échappe pas à la règle: la construction s’est étalée sur deux cent ans environ,  la charpente est d’origine mais les gargouilles ne le sont pas, elle a subi des restaurations… Un bâtiment est le résultat de tous les bâtiments composant son histoire. Pourtant c’est ce résultat de cathédrale, notre contemporain et avec lequel nous avons vécu qui est en train de voler dans les flammes et avec lui, peut-être, un certain rapport au temps. D’un point de vue historique, c’est peut-être triste. Ou peut-être que ce n’est qu’une nouvelle pierre à l’histoire de l’édifice, une pierre pour le moment non encore advenue, et c’est cela qui fait si mal.

Il ne faudrait pas non plus réduire la cathédrale a des vieilles pierres. Elle est un symbole qui charrie plus qu’elle même dans nos mémoires. Quand on dit Notre Dame, on pense Victor Hugo, comédie musicale, film. On pense aux maçons, architectes, tailleurs de pierre, au Moyen-Âge, à ses cours d’histoire, à des gros clichés. On pense à l’art. On pense à Paris. On pense à ce qu’on a ressenti en y mettant les pieds, croyant ou non, chrétien ou pas. Cela part aussi un peu avec les flammes. J’en oublie surement. Chacun doit avoir son ressenti (ou pas, aussi).

Je ne sais pas comment vous vous positionnez face à l’incendie, si vous pleurez la perte ou pensez au lendemain, si vous faites des blagues à coup de Sacré Cœur pour garder le sourire, ou si vous n’êtes pas touchés. En tout cas, je souhaite le mieux pour vous.

Fluctuat net mergitur, parait-il.