as you can see i’m not going to be on much during the week and i apologize but look at my icon sipping tea he’s chill with it so i suppose it’s cool.
Anonymous asked ;
Popping in to say your blog is gr11 and that you are my favorite Javert blog in the entire LM fandom <3 <3 <3
nah i’ve been at a show all day and coming back to this was awesome thanks friendo.
[9/13/14, 7:03:23 PM] Booker DooWop: “dad”
[9/13/14, 7:03:30 PM] Booker DooWop: “why does santa import all of his things from china”
[9/13/14, 7:03:36 PM] Booker DooWop: “this seems unfair”
[9/13/14, 7:03:42 PM] Booker DooWop: “is santa a capitamilist”
[9/13/14, 7:03:58 PM] Booker DooWop: “why does santa support below-minimum-wage labor in foreign countries”
"And you were that bastard father who didn’t bother covering his ass so his son could believe for a bit longer. You know I got put in in school suspension for explaining to everyone else how much bullshit that story is?”He wasn’t much for holiday spirit either, but god damnit couldn’t his father at least try?
”It is a bullshit story, and you knew that it was me. The truth was bound to come out sometime, why let it continue? And maybe you wouldn’t have been suspended if you hadn’t called Santa a ‘capitalist pig’ in front of your classmates.” That had been before the ‘the tooth fairy is bourgeois scum’ incident. There was an ugly green sweater in the back of the closet just waiting to be pulled out, but Javert had shoved his dresser in front of the door and was doing an absurd amount of laundry just to avoid opening it.
”—you want me to what?" Now, there were people who came into the station house daily with all manner of fantastic tales and nonsensical requests, but this was… new. So far as Javert could remember, nobody had ever asked him to draw them a sheep before.
”I never gave a damn about the weather, and it never gave a damn about me.” The inspector shook his hair out, doing his best to drip neatly beside the stove as opposed to trailing water across the station floor. “A bit of rain never killed anybody, honestly.” So it was more than a bit of rain, and Javert was soaked to the skin, and the Seine had burst its banks and flooded the surrounding streets with sewage. It had to happen at some point, really; there was no point in worrying about it — though he had to admit that the smell was awful.
”You were one of those annoying 6 year olds who stopped believing in Santa Claus because you figured out he couldn’t travel faster than the speed of light.” Preaching to Javert about the ‘holiday spirit’ was probably a bad idea.
”Do I look sick to you?” A rhetorical question. Goodness, the cover stories that these gamins came up with. One would have thought that they would have learnt not to lie to Javert.
”Don’t turn around.” He could only assume that the poet’s drab appearance and his own patchy coat had attracted the attention of several thieves in the area. When he forced himself to focus, he could ear the extra sets of footsteps echoing a street or so behind, slowing and speeding up when appropriate to keep a set distance between the two.