This is what surfing friendsfriends pages gets me. Unable to picture JC without hearing him begging for sex in a bad cajun accent FOR ALL OF ETERNITY. IN THE THIRD PERSON. To Christina, seeing as Gambit would probably really go for the skunk!hair.
I can only hope you feel appropriately disgusted with yourself.
"Christina, mon chere! JC don' know what else to tell you to make you love dis ol' rajun' Cajun'! I been up dere sittin' on de roof for days, jus' a tinkin' 'bout you, your stripey hair, an' how much JC loves you, chere. YET YOU WON' LET JC TOUCH YOU, NON?!?! WHY, chere?!? WHY?!?!??!"
...I'm so sorry, honey. But you did it to yourself, really.
Bobby would have to be Nick, because Lance is already Robin (http://www.livejournal.com/talkread.bml?journal=stubbleglitter&itemid=78487#cutid1), yo. *g*
You know, if he started mentioning that he wrote a song about love being explosive, just like a deck of cards, I wouldn't even blink in surprise. And I'd probably assume that it was really about sex, like I always do.
About a year and a half ago, I offered to slash anyone on earth for someone who'd write JC/Gambit. *snerk* I think before that the offer was to anyone who'd write Lex/Gambit, but JC/Gambit was so much more appropriate. Fortunately mercutio did so about six months ago, around there. 's a good story.
When I sent my last entry, for some reason, the writer of the JC/Gambit story didn't come out as a livejournal username, so I'll just type it sans tags--"bard_mercutio". Hmm? Hmm.
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HE IS! Ohhhh. He so is.
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Pretty quick job, but there wasn't a lot I could do without him being in a trenchcoat.
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ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod!!!!!
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I know that we are both girls. I don't care. I'll find a way.
I NEED to have one of your babies for this. The eyes!
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hee!
o.O
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Go JC! Blow things up (with your love)!
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*dies*
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I can only hope you feel appropriately disgusted with yourself.
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...I'm so sorry, honey. But you did it to yourself, really.
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Can't. Stop. Laughing.
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heeeeeeeeee! *hugs* *licks* *runs*
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Best. Idea. Ever.
[walks away, perpetually turned on]
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...er, whoops.
Re: ...er, whoops.