http://cocksprite.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
cocksprite.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2011-08-25 06:23 am
cocksprite.livejournal.com) wrote in towerofanimus2011-08-25 06:23 am
Entry tags:
oo1 ; open
Characters: Davesprite and [Bad username or site: towerofanimus title= @ livejournal.com].
Setting: Everywhere, anywhere, all the wheres.
Format: I'll match.
Summary: Davesprite arrives and proceeds to... not flip the fuck out.
Warnings: Bleeding 1/2 bird boy with a bit of a foul mouth.
[ the first thing he does upon waking isn’t panic. he stares at the ceiling, head spinning, confused as all hell because fuck, this isn’t where he remembers being. he reasons that he obviously died finally and really, he isn’t surprised. though it worries him that even after death his stomach and gimpy wing are still dripping goopy goldenrod sprite innards all over his bed, but he doesn’t pay that much mind now. he’ll worry about it later when he’s got his bearings and knows what the fuck happened. are you still supposed to bleed when you’re dead?
when he can finally move, he gets up slowly and sluggishly, puzzling at the outfit that hangs awkwardly off his legless body and up his winged back. so he’s dead and snappily dressed? nice. no, let’s not. in the chest by his bed are the trademark shades he’s never seen without and he moves to rid himself of the strange white outfit before taking to the halls in exploration. ]
[ run into him yourself or let the feathery asshole come to you, either way works here. ]
Setting: Everywhere, anywhere, all the wheres.
Format: I'll match.
Summary: Davesprite arrives and proceeds to... not flip the fuck out.
Warnings: Bleeding 1/2 bird boy with a bit of a foul mouth.
[ the first thing he does upon waking isn’t panic. he stares at the ceiling, head spinning, confused as all hell because fuck, this isn’t where he remembers being. he reasons that he obviously died finally and really, he isn’t surprised. though it worries him that even after death his stomach and gimpy wing are still dripping goopy goldenrod sprite innards all over his bed, but he doesn’t pay that much mind now. he’ll worry about it later when he’s got his bearings and knows what the fuck happened. are you still supposed to bleed when you’re dead?
when he can finally move, he gets up slowly and sluggishly, puzzling at the outfit that hangs awkwardly off his legless body and up his winged back. so he’s dead and snappily dressed? nice. no, let’s not. in the chest by his bed are the trademark shades he’s never seen without and he moves to rid himself of the strange white outfit before taking to the halls in exploration. ]
[ run into him yourself or let the feathery asshole come to you, either way works here. ]
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject