Imagine You Invite Your Roommate To Hang Out With You And Your Lefty Anarchist Friends And Everyone’s

forever my favorite part of west end productions- the handshake :)

(again, sorry for the mediocre quality, this is from 2011!!)

not rlly sure how tumblr works but heres knife wife and the babygirl antichrist

About 10 years ago I was working for a gaming company doing creature design. After work, I would go home and dissect animals in my garage. I borrowed a tiger carcass from a local taxidermist. I wanted to understand how the jaw muscles worked, so I stop motion animated it.

The muscle on the back of the head (Temporalis) bulges out when the jaw is closed. But when the is jaw is open, it depresses in like the surface of a trampoline. But not uniformly, in a Y shaped pattern.

I ended up getting evicted for stop motion animating tiger parts in my garage…..but it was worth it. I still have hard drives full of animal carcasses reference animations today. Fun Times.

Enjolras animation✨✨

Quality is a bit butchered🥲

I've seen Cabaret, Newsies, Hadestown, and Les Miserables are trending now bc how relevant these songs are

This is your gentle reminder that theater is political

Talking to people outside your fandom about your media of choice is always so interesting because after a while in fandom, you get used to the same old discourse but in real life you will be hit with some completely orginal and insane takes. I was taking about Les Misérables to some family friends over Christmas and they tried to argue that Javert was a completely unnecessary part of the plot. Like he didn’t need to be there at all. Truly a level of discourse that some of you on tumblr could only dream of coming up with

the big three questions of media analysis: what the author wanted to say, what they actually said, and what they didn’t know they were saying

LES MIS LETTERS IN ADAPTATION - Entrance on the Scene of a Doll, LM 2.3.4 (Les Miserables 1925)

The last of these stalls, established precisely opposite the Thénardiers’ door, was a toy-shop all glittering with tinsel, glass, and magnificent objects of tin. In the first row, and far forwards, the merchant had placed on a background of white napkins, an immense doll, nearly two feet high, who was dressed in a robe of pink crepe, with gold wheat-ears on her head, which had real hair and enamel eyes. All that day, this marvel had been displayed to the wonderment of all passers-by under ten years of age, without a mother being found in Montfermeil sufficiently rich or sufficiently extravagant to give it to her child. Éponine and Azelma had passed hours in contemplating it, and Cosette herself had ventured to cast a glance at it, on the sly, it is true.

At the moment when Cosette emerged, bucket in hand, melancholy and overcome as she was, she could not refrain from lifting her eyes to that wonderful doll, towards the lady, as she called it. The poor child paused in amazement. She had not yet beheld that doll close to. The whole shop seemed a palace to her: the doll was not a doll; it was a vision. It was joy, splendor, riches, happiness, which appeared in a sort of chimerical halo to that unhappy little being so profoundly engulfed in gloomy and chilly misery. With the sad and innocent sagacity of childhood, Cosette measured the abyss which separated her from that doll. She said to herself that one must be a queen, or at least a princess, to have a “thing” like that. She gazed at that beautiful pink dress, that beautiful smooth hair, and she thought, “How happy that doll must be!” She could not take her eyes from that fantastic stall. The more she looked, the more dazzled she grew. She thought she was gazing at paradise. There were other dolls behind the large one, which seemed to her to be fairies and genii. The merchant, who was pacing back and forth in front of his shop, produced on her somewhat the effect of being the Eternal Father.

In this adoration she forgot everything, even the errand with which she was charged.

Quick sketches of Jean Valjean, Enjolras and Cosette