http://bangyoudead.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
bangyoudead.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tampered2008-12-06 06:03 pm
bangyoudead.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2008-12-06 06:03 pm
once upon a time i was falling in love [ongoing]
When; Saturday night.
Rating; PG-13 (swearing).
Characters; Remy (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bangyoudead), Rictor (alittlecredit), Wanda (hexless), Donna + Sirja (ofmyderriere) and Eden (suicideslowly).
Summary; Genetic identity angst: ASK US HOW.
Log;
With the traffic in and out of his apartment, Remy's feeling less like a corpse, even if his head is still fuzzy, like if he sits still for too long he'll realize this is all some warped dream he can't wake up from. He leaves the front door open as he goes back to his bedroom to find a shirt, knowing that Wanda and Donna are going to wander in at some point, and he should probably kill the ego.
Well. Somewhat. He grabs a tank top. It's black and has a faded red x on it. Ironic. He puts it on anyway, and digs out another pack of cigarettes from his sock drawer.
M-Day. Apocalypse. The child. Xavier.
They flash through his head like a faded film clip show. He wants to take a power drill to his head.
Bad idea.
He laughs to himself, harsh and ironic and cruel, and lights his cigarette with his fingers.
Rating; PG-13 (swearing).
Characters; Remy (
bangyoudead), Rictor (alittlecredit), Wanda (hexless), Donna + Sirja (ofmyderriere) and Eden (suicideslowly).Summary; Genetic identity angst: ASK US HOW.
Log;
With the traffic in and out of his apartment, Remy's feeling less like a corpse, even if his head is still fuzzy, like if he sits still for too long he'll realize this is all some warped dream he can't wake up from. He leaves the front door open as he goes back to his bedroom to find a shirt, knowing that Wanda and Donna are going to wander in at some point, and he should probably kill the ego.
Well. Somewhat. He grabs a tank top. It's black and has a faded red x on it. Ironic. He puts it on anyway, and digs out another pack of cigarettes from his sock drawer.
M-Day. Apocalypse. The child. Xavier.
They flash through his head like a faded film clip show. He wants to take a power drill to his head.
Bad idea.
He laughs to himself, harsh and ironic and cruel, and lights his cigarette with his fingers.