courfeyr:

I sit alone in a dark candlelit room, fourteen copies of Victor Hugo’s ‘Les Miserables’ piled high around me. Each is covered in thousands of notes and annotations, pages are ripped and tear-stained. Why can’t I think of any more headcanons, I sob quietly. All of this source material, and I have run out of original content.

Enjolras laughs at me from the seventh screen playing ‘Les Miserables (2012)’. My mind is cloudy, and I don’t know which ami is banoffee in my latest creation, Les Amis as Types of Pie.