I learned last week that apparently one of th the most high quality lubricants preferred among gay men is called Gun Oil. Really. The amusement factor was staggering.
I know people tend to be much more poetic, or at least more -- holy cow have you had one of these 100 Calorie Cheetos Mini Bites packets? They're really good! I'd forgotten Cheetos could be so buttery. *pauses* I got so off topic, what I was saying was I know it could've been fleshed out more, but I figure that there's so much SGA fiction out there that if you want poetic you can go elsewhere. I just tend to try and get out the crux of the matter and that's that. I'm not full-on inspired, i'm just sputtering. Except for that broken!Kara thing that I'm not gonna write. Nope.
I love how fragmentary and slightly detached/numb this is.
John just has to wipe his hand somewhere unobtrusive, like the wall, or he could just lick it away. Then it would disappear like it never happened. And for some reason, this was the line that hit me right in the gut.
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I'm... replete. Yeah.
It was the image of gun oil that did it (for some hideously Freudian reason I'm not going to examine.)
Oh, wow.
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And it's in the pudding.
I've inhaled too many bleach fumes today.
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heeee. Poor Rodney. Not really.
Seriously, you done good, sweetie.
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I love how fragmentary and slightly detached/numb this is.
John just has to wipe his hand somewhere unobtrusive, like the wall, or he could just lick it away. Then it would disappear like it never happened. And for some reason, this was the line that hit me right in the gut.
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