Nice Gorillaz icon. :) Luckily for you, there is more, even if I seem to keep writing scene-setting porn instead of the actual porn the prompt asked for
( ... )
Ahhh, that explains why the icon looked a bit off. And yeah, I agree. I was going to snip one of those "corpsified" bits, but since I never finished the fic, I never got around to editing it... etc, etc.
Awww, well, it's nothing personal. It's just that I really haven't been keeping track with LJ stuff in -- uh, quite a while. Probably ever since college started getting really hectic. Plus, different fandoms and stuff. That doesn't help. So it's my bad. But if you want to start chatting again or something, I'm cool with that.
I don't have more of that specific scene, but I do have a bit more from that fic (or... what was going to be that fic).
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It began with five words. “I want to say thanks.” It was followed by five more. “Uh, do I know you?”
The redheaded guy - suit and tie, ironed, freshly polished shoes - smiled. The guy with the white strikes in his hair (shut up, it was natural) - hoodie and shorts, wrinkled, barefoot - blinked. Rubbed his eyes. It was far too early and bright outside for him to deal with this. “Uhm, look. I know there's a lot of weird rumors about this place, and you guys very anti-Satan and that is... that is great, because that guy is a jerk. But I'm not interested in--”
“I'm not a missionary, I'm a patient.” Reilly Tyne facepalmed. “Remember? You were in my head. It was very crowed. You complained when I gave you an assist. A lot
( ... )
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I liked it, great at getting across the voice of River's crooked brain, though could have done better without repetition of "corpsified".
...hey, how come we aren't friends any more?
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Awww, well, it's nothing personal. It's just that I really haven't been keeping track with LJ stuff in -- uh, quite a while. Probably ever since college started getting really hectic. Plus, different fandoms and stuff. That doesn't help. So it's my bad. But if you want to start chatting again or something, I'm cool with that.
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---
It began with five words. “I want to say thanks.” It was followed by five more. “Uh, do I know you?”
The redheaded guy - suit and tie, ironed, freshly polished shoes - smiled. The guy with the white strikes in his hair (shut up, it was natural) - hoodie and shorts, wrinkled, barefoot - blinked. Rubbed his eyes. It was far too early and bright outside for him to deal with this. “Uhm, look. I know there's a lot of weird rumors about this place, and you guys very anti-Satan and that is... that is great, because that guy is a jerk. But I'm not interested in--”
“I'm not a missionary, I'm a patient.” Reilly Tyne facepalmed. “Remember? You were in my head. It was very crowed. You complained when I gave you an assist. A lot ( ... )
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