People have the nerve, the audacity, the sheer ignorance to assume I no longer have an interest in Les Mis. Fools. Vagabonds. As if I haven’t been coiled like a spring ready to launch into a loving monologue about the Bishop of Digne if prompted every day for the last five years. As if I’m not ready to throw down at criticism of Cosette at any given minute. As if I don’t know how to navigate the Parisian sewer system by memory. Être libre? More like prepare to be free of your life if you make that mistake again, motherfucker
Edited with Lightroom and/or Photoshop CC. Photo(s) are not mine; it/they are the property of the photographer/magazine etc. This is a non-commercial fan work only.
You never Googled yourself up and found something awful like ‘Who made this up?’ Listen, I don’t Google myself because I try to get through the day without anxiety, so it’s not like on the top of priorities for me.
nefelimalfoy 