#Marius x cosette

[devasdiary]

fashionistas cosette and courfeyrac and their sad little loser boyfriend marius <3

[nortism]

jean valjean shouldn’t have died at the end of les miserables solely because i feel we were robbed of getting to see he having an awkward father-in-law / son-in-law relationship with marius

[grantaire-lover1]

Little Cosette & Marius doodle because I cant stop thinking about them

[la-pheacienne]

Am I the only person on planet earth who believes that Cosette and Marius are a beautiful love story? Yeah it has been so many years since I read this and yeah I was a teen, but I still remember what I felt when I read their story and their deep love for each other really really touched me. They were both orphans, two broken people who found each other by sheer luck and made each other really happy and gave each other hope and light in the midst of adversity and misery. It's just a beautiful depiction of real, deep, visceral, honest emotion between two people. How can you be completely immune to that? And this without even talking about the form, the lyricism, the poetic beauty of the text, the guy literally wrote one of the most iconic passages about romantic love that have ever been written and all you seem to care about is, idk, the power imbalance between them because of gender roles? Or the fact that Marius stalked Cosette? Or the fact that the "love at first sight" trope is boring and conservative? This is fine if the goal is to deconstruct patriarchy but I'm afraid it completely lacks feeling and honest engagement with the text, you know? This approach to the story is so flat and lifeless that I wonder if we've all read the same book. Everyone is entitled to their feelings and their tastes in art of course, but I will just suggest that if you truly do not feel anything at all while reading this love story then maybe 19th century Romanticism isn't for you? Idk.

[kjack89]

Never Say Die

Happy Barricade Day!

On the night of June 5th, Marius arrived home late. Cosette was not waiting for him at the door, wringing her hands with worry. She had learned her lesson after the first year, after hours spent pacing, wondering when Marius would return, fearing that something had happened to him – he was weak still, weaker than he would ever admit, try as he did to be strong for her especially, but his body had not yet fully healed even a year on, to say nothing of the other wounds he bore that very well may never heal. Marius had returned home eventually that first June night, late enough that the date had slipped from the 5th to the 6th, and when finally he did walk through the door, Cosette threw her arms around him. “I feared the worst,” she told him, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “I feared I may have lost you.”

His only response had been to stroke her dark hair gently, holding her until she let go. He offered no word then of where he had gone, or where he would again go the following year, or the year after. He did not voice the names of those he had lost, no more than he shared any tales of the time they had spent together. 

Not then, at least, but Cosette had slowly learned of those who had suffered the fate Marius had come so close to, when Marius let slip a name or the start of a story. At first, he would break off, his face creasing with pain from a wound that would never truly mend, no matter her ministrations. Then, over time, he would tell her more. Very rarely about the barricade itself, but more about the small moments he had shared with his friends, his observations of the men he had known.

As the years passed, Cosette felt like she finally knew the men she had never had a chance to meet, the men whose impact on Marius remained marked, even after all this time.

So much so that every June 5th, like the one in question, he would disappear from their house to spend time, seemingly, with the ghosts of his memory as his only companion.

And though she would never understand what it must be like to carry them with him, she could equally never find it in herself to begrudge him this one indulgence.

On the night in question, Cosette had long since retired to their bed, though she was still awake when he slipped in beside her, and she waited for him to make himself comfortable and blow out his candle before curling against him. 

For a long moment they lay together in silence until finally Cosette ventured softly, “I know that you miss them.”

Marius sighed. “I do,” he confirmed, equally quiet.

Cosette lifted herself up to tell him, sincerely, “I wish there was anything more I could do to ease this ache each June.”

Wordlessly, Marius gathered her to him, kissing her forehead. “I do miss them,” he repeated, “but that is– it is an old hurt now.” He shook his head. “Time heals, they say, and I know not how much truth there is in such a pat sentiment. But it does ease the consternation, at least slightly. And besides…”

He trailed off and Cosette frowned up at him. “And besides?” she prompted after a moment.

Marius cleared his throat. “And besides, they’re not gone, of course,” he finished, his voice a little rough. “Not truly.”

“In the way that no one who we love ever truly leaves us?” Cosette asked, laying her head against Marius’s chest.

He bent to press another kiss to the top of her head. “Yes,” he said, “but also no. It’s more than that.”

She tilted her head up toward him. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated. “I mean…they live on,” he said finally, the starkness of the statement emphasizing its sincerity. “They must.” He shrugged almost helplessly. “Just as I feel they must have lived before. Whenever one galvanizes a small group against all odds, I must believe that Enjolras is there in that moment, in that strength in the arm hoisting a flag high.”

Cosette had never heard him speak of his friends this way, and she almost held her breath, as if afraid that would be enough to break the spell.

Marius stroked her hair almost absentmindedly as he continued, something soft and almost wistful in his tone, “When one manages to teach the most important of lessons with the simplest of words, I must believe that Combeferre is speaking through them, as once he spoke to me. When one is bone-weary from scraping a living but still shows up in every way that matters, they keep Feuilly alive with them.”

His hand stilled and Cosette tightened her grip on him, just slightly, the small movement enough for his hand to resume its motions. “Bossuet lives through every selfless gesture, every sacrifice which may seem small but lights a fire that can never be extinguished, and Joly lives at his side to walk through that fire with him.” 

Despite himself, he smiled, just slightly. “And should my words, should anyone’s words in service of revolution seem even slightly poetic, then I know it is only because Jehan breathes them from our lips. And when words fail and fists become the only recourse, I know Bahorel is there, with that fierce grin.” 

He shook his head, his smile fading. “And whenever a toast is raised to friendship, to the unbreakable bonds of brotherhood, I will only ever see Grantaire, his bottle held aloft.”

“And Courfeyrac—” 

For the first time, his voice broke, and Cosette held him even tighter, not daring to speak. After a long moment, Marius cleared his throat, though he made no attempt to finish his thought, only kissing Cosette once more, the gesture saying more than his words ever could.

“They lived,” Marius said finally, his voice quiet but banded with steel. “They were real, flesh and blood. I touched them, I knew them, I loved them.”

Again his voice broke. “Love them still.”

He swallowed, hard, his voice rough and pained as he said, barely louder than a whisper, “And they died. And a part of my heart died with them on the barricade that day.”

There was just the hint of sob in his voice, the hint of such naked pain that caught in his throat as if he didn’t dare share it, and Cosette’s heart broke for him. Wordlessly, she propped herself upright and tugged him down so that their positions were reversed, so that she held Marius against her breast as he curled around her, hot tears soaking the bodice of her nightgown.

After a long moment, Marius recovered somewhat, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath and shifting so that his head rested against his shoulder, and he reached down to take her hand, lacing their fingers together. “They died,” he repeated, more steadily this time. :But their ideas—” He shook his head. “They were never solely theirs and so could never, can never, truly die.” He turned his head to press a kiss to her shoulder before adding, “Not until all chains and broken and there are no battles left to fight, at least.”

He brushed his thumb lightly against her knuckles. “It is a beautiful gift, in a way,” he whispered, more to himself than to her, “to live forever as a thread in the fabric of freedom.” He squeezed her hand. “And as much as I miss them, and I do, some days more than words, some days so much that my heart feels it might claw its way from my chest, there is great comfort in knowing that.”

Marius took one last deep breath before finishing, “And it makes it at least a little easier to bear.”

For one long moment, Cosette was silent, simply holding Marius against her, her own unshed tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. Then she bent to kiss his forehead like a benediction, like absolution for that pain she knew he still carried with him. “For what little it is worth,” she whispered, “though I never met them, I feel as though they live within my heart as well.”

“It is worth everything,” he told her, tugging her down to kiss her properly before telling her, “And that too makes it easier to bear.”

As much as she would never truly know if Marius meant it, or simply said it to ease her own conscience, the secondhand hurt she carried from him, Cosette still felt something warm bloom in her chest at his words, and she pulled him closer still, holding him silently  with the only comfort she could offer until sleep claimed them both.

If all of his friends lived within him, within any who continued their fight, then Cosette had to believe that Marius too would live on inside anyone who survived to fight still.

And as she drifted to sleep still holding Marius against her, she could not help but think that was as beautiful a belief as any she’d ever held.

[lalarose216]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @cossiefauchelevant

!!!!!! 🤩💫💕❤️🦋🌹

Have a great day!!! Know you’re so loved here!!!! 💕❤️🦋🌹

[revolutionnaire-farouche]

who cares about your lonely soul?

[ablatheringblatherskite]

My top 5 Musical Theatre ships (so far)!

From least to most fave! For Valentine's Day!! Happy Valentine's Day!

5. Marius Pontmercy and Cosette

A heart full of love...

A heart full of you...

One single look and then I knew.

I knew it too.

From today (every day)

It isn't a dream (not a dream)

After all.

4. Jack Kelly and Katherine Plumber

And if you're gone tomorrow...

What was ours still will be...

I have something to believe in now that I know you believe in me.

3. Elle Woods and Emmett Forrest

I look like Warner.

Yeah!

But it's just me.

That's the best part.

2. Dimitri and Anya

In a crowd of thousands...

I'd find you...

Again.

1. Raoul de Chagny and Christine Daaé

Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime...

Say the word and I will follow you...

Share each day with me each night, each morning...

Anywhere you go, let me go too...

Christine, that's all I ask of you.

[annachum]

Raoulstine, Pierre Beyzhukov x Natasha Rostova, Marius x Cosette, Pepperony, Huskerdust, Stolitz, Moxxilie, Chaggie, Hinny, Romione, etc : * couples where both parties are trauma survivors and help each other heal and maintain hope despite it all *

[kyraxyrespace]

Day Twenty-Seven - Marius Pontmercy/Cosette Fauchelevent, Marisette (Les Miserables)

[inastarlesssky]

This is a bit random, but if there's anyone out there who's into Les Miserables and Marius/Cosette, I would love to talk about them. I watched the movie yesterday and I have thoughts and questions and I would love to hear what anyone thinks about their dynamic and everything

Everyone, don't worry, I won't be posting here about Les Mis, I just wanted to talk to someone about it bc I have emotions about it.

[devasdiary]

vivent les mariés ! 💌💐

bonus: courfeyrac and enjolras being proud of marius

[nortism]

girl dad jean valjean is something that can be so personal

[the-lark-not-the-dove]

marius and cosette are giving milo and kida vibes and I love it

[sageswirll]

You can never go wrong with Marius and Cosette. I need more fanart and fics of them. But I don't just want sweet, lovey dovey, hand holding while frolicking through meadows content - i need angst. I need frustrated Cosette, i need an argument - i need proper fics. but if you love the heterosexuals too much, then I want to see the comforting angst. Cosette caring for Marius with his survivors guilt. Cosette and Marius, huddled together with the letter Valjean wrote. Cosette having a nightmare about her past and waking Marius up. I've read it all with E/R. Now I need the cheesy ones to become real.

[fingerprint-insurance]

Les Mis is crazy cause Anita from Jennifer's Body and Alex from Like Minds got together and that's hilarious because those movies are basically the same thing with different-gendered protagonists