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mood |
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BAMF! |
] |
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music |
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Emilie Autumn - Juliet |
] |
An intense sigh exits slightly parted lips as he seats himself before his computer, toned ass slipping onto the cold leather of his new, designer chair easily. Nimble fingers hover over well-used keyboard keys before he finally starts typing, a half-smirk spreading those previously hurricane intensified lips. "So, here I sit, struggling not to type in my Scottish accent despite the voice in my head that keeps saying, 'Ach, yew wanker!' Oh well, I shall quell it. I have a little bit of news. It's nothing big, nothing Earth-shatteringly horrific.. it is simply.. this." Another sigh, and he reclines, steepling his fingers over pursed lips. This was a thing to be thought over, not rushed into, and so he took his time. The metronome, there by habit, swung back and forth with it's ticking rhythm, as if keeping time to his life, as opposed to a well-tuned piano. "I guess there's no other way to say it than this....
"I AM SO DAMN SEXY WHEN I'M WEARING A FRIGGING SPEEDO." His breath exits his lips in a high giggle, and he applauds himself.. as if he's just planted the best joke of the century on his celebrity brethren. Suddenly and habitually, he mutters 'Bamf' as he stands up and sprints to the kitchen for a glass of water. He gulps it down, and then returns, uttering another small 'Bamf' before seating himself again and regaining his breath. "So, you can blame Miss Gwen for this, because I was staring at her journal layout while typing all of this out. Not that she's wearing a speedo or anything, but I imagine that she would. Don't YOU think?" A grin parts his lips as he clicks the post button on his "livejournal" client before shutting down his computer and prancing up to his palatial bedroom. Ah, another worthy post, another fantastic day.
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