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Old 03-14-2003, 05:52 PM   #1
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(Mildly) Slashy Fic.

This is an older fic, but I'm proud of this one and thought anyone who hadn't already read it before might be interested. If not, c'est la vie, thanks for your time.

It is slash, but it's so freaking mild that it barely qualifies...

Title: Rain For An Autumn’s Night
Rating: (Pathetically) PG
Notes: Mildly slashy fluff. U2 are not mine, but the muses who pushed me to write this are. And forgive me. Because I’m a) too impatient and b) paranoid about bothering people, this fic was not betaed.
Thank yous: These go out to Sunny, Caz, Joy, Claire, Izzy, Boa and anyone else who supported and helped push along this fic. Especially Caz, for her perfect one-liner.


He slipped out the house’s backdoor with a kind of inner-sleuth that no one would guess of him. Though his movements were fluid and graceful—gentle in their forcefulness, some might say—he was not a gentle boy and he was neither smooth nor refined. His aggressive manner was not held in his actions or tendencies, but in his eyes and the downward pull of attractively full lips; the kind one might wish to kiss if he often didn’t look so shy and unapproachable. It wasn’t his fault, entirely; it was just his way. He was protective of himself, often feeling if he does not care for himself, then no one will.

So to find him creeping out of his father’s house in the middle of pitch black night was a confusing situation, considering he knew what his father would do to him if he were caught, and also knew if his older sister saw him, he would be hastily turned in. And actually, in the back of his mind, he knew he should turn around and go straight to bed, pretend he had not broken the curfew of a ridiculously strict father and get—for once—a decent night’s sleep.

But instead he strode quickly across his backyard and climbed (again with amazing ease that one can begin to recognize is in fact out of routine instead of natural poise) over the fence separating his home from the gravel alleyway behind it. Landing a bit shakily on his feet on the opposite side of the chain link barrier, he pulled the lapel of his jean jacket up around his neck, ignoring a slightly biting autumn breeze and kicking idly at stray brown and orange dried leaves as he walked, gravel crunching underneath his sneakers.


***

The pond was always murky this time of year, but Bono didn’t seem to notice, and nor would he care if he had. After all, he was not here for the scenery as much as the time out of the lunacy of his house and, more importantly, to wait for someone.

He settled down with his back to their usual tree, facing cloudy pond, and staring at it without really looking at it. His mind, which was always running more thoughts than it should and often made him feel rather close to the brink of near insanity from his insatiable taste for knowledge and annoying curiosity for the whos and whys of everything he could see (and even those he couldn’t), seemed to be physically throbbing from his stresses and another strenuous day ended with him running off just to get some peace and, (if the one he was waiting for would ever get here, his impatience chimed in), some solace in someone who understood him.

Almost as if on cue, the respective evil cocker spaniel of the neighborhood, named Fluffy, (just in case anyone lacked any horrible irony as of late), boomed out a troublesome bark, and a short, slim figure came bounding over the dog owner’s picket fence, swearing the standard oaths most terrorized children and teenagers of the neighborhood shrieked whenever faced with the beast. The person, tripping slightly as he tried to regain whatever balance was lost struggling to out run a dog and then hurdle a three-foot high fence, spun about on the heels of his feet, facing a slightly amused Bono, sitting a good twenty feet away. He then bent down momentarily to tie a loosened shoelace and probably inspect a fresh scrape of some kind before walking towards Bono, haphazardly running a hand through blond hair and then shoving them in the pockets of his jean jacket.

Still saying nothing, he planted himself with an exaggerated sigh down next to the singer, pulling his hands out of his pockets so his arms could wrap around drawn up legs. He acted unaware of Bono’s watchful eye, his eyes fastening on the shining mass of water in front of him and his lips pursed. At first confusing his mate’s silence with a comfortable one, Bono followed his gaze back to the water, inching slightly closer to the other by way of showing welcome.

“… I hate him.”

Bono blinked, confused in several different ways by his friend’s sudden confession and tilted his head toward the other, owlish blue eyes tracing along Larry’s profile with concern. “… Sorry?”

“I hate him. I really, really do.”

“Hate who, Lar’?”

The drummer flashed a glare, and once again Bono inwardly marveled at how Larry could express something with a simple look in his eyes. “What did your father do now?”

“Grounded me.”

“… He grounded you? Why?”

“My grades.”

Knowing it far better not to ask exactly what Larry got, Bono nodded slightly, looking downward at a leaf blowing past them with the wind picking up. “You shouldn’t have come, then. I don’t want you to get in more trouble.”

“Don’t be stupid.” And that was all he said. Of course, it was more than enough for Bono to understand… often enough with Larry it was never what he said that truly mattered, but what he didn’t say. By calling Bono stupid, Larry was simply telling him that he very much wanted to be here, enough to sneak off and risk further punishment. Treading lightly with Larry, as well as reading in between the lines, were required traits to get past even hello with the musician. Bono understood as much and, in fact, respected him for it. It was mutual admiration for each other’s quirks and personas that made them best friends in the first place.

And eventually, something more.

“He just started yelling and yelling… and at some point within the lecture I tuned him out and that got him even more angry and he said I was grounded for two, whole fucking weeks.” His head hung slightly, portraying his want to despise his father as well as the guilt he felt for letting his grades slip.

Bono, replying with body language, and smiled slightly. “Well, honestly, Larry… doesn’t he know?”

“Know what?” Larry asked with hesitant curiosity.

“You’re a drummer. You don’t have to be smart.”

“Fuck off,” he immediately retorted, though a smile pushed its way across his lips. He jabbed Bono gently in his ribs, and Bono took the playful gesture as permission to move closer to him, shifting slightly so Larry was forced to look at him. “Seriously, though… we all know you’re not stupid. What happened?”

Larry frowned, trying to pull away from the stare of his singer, but Bono instantly, (and also reflexively, one would guess), grabbed the other by his chin and turned his face with a stronger-than-it-looks hand. “Larry.”

“… I don’t know. I just… did. Let them slip, I mean.” Larry’s face betrayed a boy holding the burden of ten men’s guilt for what happened and Bono decided perhaps it was best to drop it.

“Okay. But if you need to talk about it—about anything…”

“I know. You’re here.”

“Always, Lar’.”

“I know, B. Just relax, okay?”

A pathetic look must have crossed his face because Larry laughed and leaned into him slightly, though his eyes trained back onto the pond. “I guess that’s asking the impossible of you, isn’t it?”

“Mmm,” nodded Bono vaguely, trying to ignore the fact that he could easily smell Larry’s hair from this short a distance. “Other than your da’, how’s life?”

Larry’s head fell backwards onto Bono’s right shoulder and he shrugged. “Same as it was yesterday when you asked. Mundane. Yours?”

“Much better now.”

“Oh?”

“Since earlier today, yes.”

“How come?”

“Because I have someone asking about it.”

A chuckle came out of the back of Larry’s throat. “Really.”

“Definitely,” Bono gave a small smile and Larry returned it, leaning up to give him a quick peck on the lips.

Once again a silence enveloped the two. However, this time around, it was a warm, welcomed silence and something they’d become rather attuned to over the few years they’d known each other. Often Bono had heard it said that you knew you were friends with someone when it no longer felt necessary to fill void space with equally void words just for the sound of them. Bono, fighting a grin when Larry suddenly sunk into his arms with his back pressed firmly against the singer’s chest, was more than inclined to agree. Never one for stillness or quiet and more often than not the one breaking it, Bono found it oddly comforting to become wrapped up in the silence the two commonly shared.

Not to say they didn’t communicate; smiles, glances and touches were more than enough for either to get anything across. Mostly, words seemed fruitless to say aloud when both easily knew what the other was thinking.

Bono blinked from his sudden reverie to realize that Larry was laughing about something, the giggles rising out of him and resonating through the still air, vibrating in Bono’s chest. He looked downward at the back of his mate’s head, eyebrow quirked. “What’s so bloody funny?”

“Nothing,” Larry said immediately, trying to swallow his laughter.

“Tell me,” Bono insisted, poking him in the side, a spot where Bono knew for a fact Larry was ticklish.

As expected, Larry yelped and squirmed, trying to get himself free of Bono’s suddenly tight grip, but Bono clung to him almost protectively, nosing the side of Larry’s face. “What are you laughing at, hmm?”

“You’re tickling me!” he gasped in reply, even though he knew very well that wasn’t what Bono was referring to.

“You know what I meant.”

“Nothing… just… I got asked out on a date today.”

Their reactions to this confession were drastically different: Larry was at once thrown into another fit of laughter and Bono looked as though he’d been punched in the gut. He bit his lip, afraid to ask anymore but positively dying to know. He waited a moment for Larry’s laughing to end and for him to go into further detail about what happened. When Larry didn’t make any such move, Bono cracked.

“… So what did you say?”

Larry twisted his neck around to give Bono what could only be described as a shocked look. “I told her no, of course. What do you think I’d have said?”

“I don’t know…”

Larry frowned and then instantly tried to cover up his expression with a colder stare. “I thought we were…”

“I thought we were too.”

“… Then aren’t we?”

Bono hesitated, more or less confused by where this conversation was going and far too cynical to hope Larry might be saying what he thought he was. “I’d… like to be.”

Around them, lightening crackled from some far away point and thunder let out a dull roar, of which neither noticed or perhaps just tensely ignored. The pond, up to this time a motionless, tranquil pool of opaque liquid, quivered visibly, and almost within that same instant, cleared as tiny pricks of fallen drizzle marred its surface. The cold near-winter wind quickly dissipated, leaving a humid, vibrant hum of abrupt warmth lurching aimlessly about the air. Sudden, shifting grey clouds turned overhead and below, two boys sat still, frigid in both fear of each other and fear of themselves and, ironically, missing the drastic shift in weather stretched out before and above them.

After a painful, lingering pause, Bono craned his neck so his eyes could meet Larry’s. He still expected an answer. The drummer swallowed, wishing to hell or heaven, (whichever would answer), that he could pull his eyes away from the piercing stare of his best friend. Finally giving up all hope of that, he thought—no longer than a few elongated moments—before nodding his head decidedly. “Then we are.”

Fuck ‘em all, resounded the thought through the heads of both.

A smile flickered across Bono’s face, and Larry expected him to kiss him, but instead, (one should think Larry would have learned by now that Bono never did as expected… but still the singer surprised him), Bono’s grin turned mischievous and he bounded up, dragging Larry by his arm to a standing position.

“Come on,” Bono stated simply, tugging Larry’s arm back toward the direction in which he had come.

“Where are we going?” Larry asked frantically, although his question was never answered. He was merely pulled along to the next unknown destination.

Bono figured Larry had better get used to that now.


***

The woman was a light sleeper and often in her life had considered it a curse, (probably around the time she married her husband and quickly discovered that he snored loud enough to wake the dead), and tonight was no different. As for the past thirty years, her husband’s thunderous slumber-noises, plus the raucous, windless storm outside, kept her awake into the late hours and curiosity would get the best of her when she believed herself to have distinctly heard some sort of giggling outside her window.

At first she thought herself crazy. Who would go out in such weather, with it being so late at night that the sun had not yet began its return for the new day? Mumbling standard swears she usually saved for a broken dish or brunt meal, she slid out of bed and grabbed her housecoat from its normal perch on the back of a nearby chair, pulling it about her shoulders even though she was not chilly. Quietly, so as not to disturb her husband, (although if his own snores did not wake him up, then nothing would, she thought bitterly), she walked to the window, pushing the off-white lace curtains back with a gentle, practiced finger.

She did not see anything right away. It was still dark after all, and her glasses were sitting on the night table at the moment and not on her nose, but she squinted, and soon her eyes adjusted enough to the late night/early morning shadow to realise that she was not crazy and could now see the source of the laughter.

Below, running down the rain-soaked street were two boys, no older than seventeen. Though both were about the same height, she could easily recognize that one was older than the other: he was slightly stockier and had a stronger build on his legs, arms and shoulders; ebony hair stuck to his head in a wet helmet, and even from her distance up, she could see the cheerful smile he flashed at the other boy running along side him. This other boy was lithe and rather skinny, though not awkwardly so; his left hand clutched a dripping jean jacket and the other was firmly intertwined with that of his friend’s; he ran steadily and slowly, being dragged by the brunette in order to keep up; strands of light brown hair, (probably blond when dry, she mused), framed and hung over a striking face of sharp features; and he, she determined, was most definitely the one whom she had heard giggling. Every so often a run-away note of laughter would wind out from him and up to her window, plucking some unseen chord within her at the instantaneous reminder of her own—now grown—children.

Much despite herself and her cranky attitude at having been woken up, she found a smile sneaking onto face as she watched the dark-haired boy pull his smaller companion into a makeshift ballroom dance in the middle of the stranded, rain-flooded road. The other protested pointlessly (and half-heartedly), unable to stop laughing as he was unceremoniously dipped and then thrown forward into a run. Before he could get far, the brunette was back at his side again, grabbing him from behind and hugging him in a backwards embrace that nearly sent both of them face forward onto the ground.

Her green eyes crinkled at the edges watching them, her mind fluttering back to moments she’d had similarly. Times with her best friend and next-door neighbor during storms in her backyard, and even getting caught in the rain with her husband when they started dating back in school… she recalled getting in trouble for coming home wet and muddy numerous times, and neither caring nor acknowledging that she’d ever done anything wrong. Voyeur to the carelessness and youth embodied by the figures beneath her window, she very easily could have watched these two forever and admired how stuck in their own world they were and their obliviousness to both time and weather trying to distract them from one another.

But at that moment, lightening and thunder stuck at some close radius, and below, the blond boy jumped, shaken. He twisted quickly, coming face to face with his friend and said something that the rain and her husband’s obnoxious noises drown out. The brunette nodded in agreement, but not before leaning forward to steal a long and yet somehow innocent kiss from his mate. The woman crooked an eyebrow, wondering how the blond boy—who seemed a bit conservative in behavior to begin with—might react to this friendly gesture, but was surprised to see him quickly kiss the black-haired boy back.

Once more despite herself, she smiled. Then she blinked and they were off again, laughing and giggling and dragging each other through the pouring, pleasantly warm rain and down just another nameless Irish street.

Before turning to head back to her bed and comatose husband, she gave once last look at the familiar road she’d lived on more than half of her life and noticed both vaguely and sadly how much darker it was without the two boys on it.


***

The rain was an annoying drizzle now, but it didn’t bother Larry as it usually did. He recalled many a time where he loathed Ireland’s constantly rainy, wet weather, but tonight it had seemed almost a blessing or God-send… or, at the very least, a romantic setting for a wonderful night.

They clambered clumsily over Larry’s chain link fence and stumbled blindly to the back door of the house—Bono tripping over a lawn chair with casual grace at one point or another along the way. Their hands never untwined the whole way home and despite the sudden chill working up Larry’s spine and exhausted fight his legs were giving to move, he was content and far from ready to turn in for the night. The look on his face must have said as much because Bono plopped down firmly on the back step, yanking Larry down with him. Instinctively, an amazingly warm arm wrapped itself around Larry’s shivering shoulder and he leaned into the endless, radiating heat of the other’s body.

“How grounded are you?” Bono finally piped up, giving Larry’s arm a short squeeze.

“I told you, two weeks.”

“No, I mean what are you grounded from?”

“Oh. Well, from going out, I guess.”

Bono’s face fell. “Completely?”

“That’s what he said.”

“Fuck.”

A half-smile twitched at one corner of Larry’s mouth and he eyed Bono’s profile with increasing interest. “Why? Are you going to miss me?”

“Stupid question. Of course I will.”

Thankful that the darkness of the night veiled the slight flush coming to his cheeks, he pulled his eyes from Bono’s face out into the vast night that was his backyard. Vaguely, he could make out the old, rusting swing set he and his sisters used to play on when they were children. Beyond that he thought he might be able to make out a dull gleam of the fence, but he thought perhaps it was just his tired eyes playing some sort of trick on him. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t moving to find out anyway.

“Will you miss me?” It was a soft whisper in Larry’s ear, but he heard it, and even felt it as a sort of tingling somewhere under his ribs. His head tilted, and he gazed at Bono a long time, surprised by the hope he saw in his eyes, before answering. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.” Well, that made it clear. He obviously wanted it straight out of Larry’s mouth.

“… I’m going to miss the hell out of you.” There. He’d said it.

A triumphant smile wormed its way across Bono’s face and he politely rubbed the tip of his nose over the area of Larry’s cheek closest to his ear. The arm about Larry pulled him a bit closer; as if afraid the drummer might walk away or suddenly vanish. “Now don’t I feel privileged?”

Larry chuckle slightly, both embarrassed by what he’d just admitted and also relishing in the attention suddenly given to him. Despite the sudden flush to his cheeks, he grinned and burrowed himself deeper into Bono’s side, inwardly wishing he could stay here the rest of the night, the rest of his grounding… the rest of his life.

… Had he really just thought that?

Dragging his eyes from the small sidewalk he’d been watching slowly shift to a darker colour of cement as the tiny dribbles of rain soiled its surface, he trained his gaze on Bono’s face and soon enough, as always, their eyes met. A nervous laugh struggled its way out of Larry’s throat before Bono’s lips were on his; gentle, affectionate and yet all-consuming. He breathed in slowly, feeling the strong smell of rain and light smell of Bono engrain itself into his consciousness, and returned the kiss. The smile on Larry’s face lingered only a few seconds, but never left his eyes.

Bono paused, thinking, before inquiring, “Did he ever say you couldn’t have anyone over?”

Thinking back to the moment when his father had laid down his punishment at the dinning room table in the middle of dinner earlier that day, Larry shook his head. “He just said I wasn’t allowed out.”

“Well,” Bono said with a tinge of good-natured disobedience, “I might just have to stop by everyday until your father gets so sick of me that he lets you off punishment.”

“That shouldn’t take long…” Larry whispered to himself and Bono threw him an amused look. “I heard that.”

“It’s not as if you don’t know that you drive parents insane.”

Bono feigned a hurt look and Larry lightly brushed his lips across the singer’s cheek, softening the blow of his words.

“It also happens to be one of things I love about you.”

Bono smiled proudly, no longer noticing the chill of the autumn breeze.


***

The sun started to fill the sky slowly, the first hints of pink and orange blending so faintly into the darker blues, purples and blacks of the night sky that at first, one would be hard-pressed to even notice night was at its end. But steadily and still leisurely, the dawn made its presence known, pushing up with it light blue sky and streaks of yellow and red. The clouds had cleared, giving this quaint area of Artane a sort of freshly cleaned, newly made look, and the rain had washed away all evidence that there had ever been a dirty corner within the city-suburb. Perhaps there hadn’t ever been to begin with, one could wonder.

In a green-covered backyard, he sat on a step with his hand firmly, almost defiantly, twined with another’s, both gazing at the sunrise and pretending not to see how rapidly it seemed to lurch upon them and, as a result, tear them apart. The back of his neck was warm despite the cool air moving around them; his neck and back were snuggled deep against the never-ending warmth of his companion.

Finally, the morning could no longer be put off. He shifted, reluctantly pulling himself apart from his dark-haired mate, and an apologetic smile flitted across his face. They both stood without words, one looking uncomfortable at goodbyes and the other simply happy to be there to say anything to other, even if it was a goodbye.

His eyes swept the lightened sky once more, willing it to go away and knowing it was too much to possibly ask for. A brief kiss and hand squeeze later, he was waving farewell as he followed his friend’s figure up and over the chain link fence with sleepy eyes.

Heart a bit heavier than when he first left, he cautiously opened the backdoor and slinked through the kitchen, swearing softly when his sneakers squeaked on the linoleum floor. Through the hallway and up disdainfully creaky stairs, he stumbled into his bedroom, taking time enough to shut his door before collapsing on the bed, thrilled and exhausted.

Five minutes later, Larry’s father opened the door, wincing when its hinges howled for some kind of lubricant, and straightened his shirt collar absently as he looked over his disheveled, passed out teenage namesake. A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth and he left quickly so as not to disturb, closing the door behind him and failing to notice his son was sleeping with his soaked jean jacket and muddy shoes still on.

-end-
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Old 03-14-2003, 09:40 PM   #2
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Re: (Mildly) Slashy Fic.

Aw, this definitely qualifies as slash!

Mild slash, yes.

But it's slash nonetheless.

And cute slash at that.

Quote:
Originally posted by lardencelover
“Mmm,” nodded Bono vaguely, trying to ignore the fact that he could easily smell Larry’s hair from this short a distance. “Other than your da’, how’s life?”

Larry’s head fell backwards onto Bono’s right shoulder and he shrugged. “Same as it was yesterday when you asked. Mundane. Yours?”

“Much better now.”

“Oh?”

“Since earlier today, yes.”

“How come?”

“Because I have someone asking about it.”
.

I thought this part was adorable...simply because of the idea that your life can be made better merely by someone asking how it's going.

I like this story. Well done. Very sweet. .

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Old 03-14-2003, 10:03 PM   #3
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Thank you.
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Old 03-14-2003, 10:09 PM   #4
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Ahhh a classic baby!u2 fic


leaves a warm fuzzy feeling in my heart
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Old 03-15-2003, 08:12 AM   #5
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I read this a long time ago and absolutely adored it! Teenage Bono and Larry making out in the rain... what's not to like? Having the lady look at them from the window was a very nice touch.

Why don't you write Bono/Larry anymore??? Though I'm not complaining about your new A/L stuff!
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Old 03-16-2003, 09:56 AM   #6
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Oh, I still write Bono/Larry, I just discovered the gorgeousness that is Adam as well...

In fact, I just posted one a bit ago... of course, it had Edge in it too, but he wasn't necessarily participating...

Thank you to the both of your for your sweet comments!
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Old 03-16-2003, 10:45 AM   #7
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How did I miss that one? *runs off to LIB LJ*

Edited coz I'm . I'd read it, but I thought it was by someone else... don't kill me! I read way too many fics!
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Old 03-16-2003, 02:07 PM   #8
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That's okay, just as long as you read it!

I've got another Bono/Larry in the wings and I also plan to get out the new chapter of Unravel Me asap.
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Old 03-16-2003, 02:48 PM   #9
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Yay!
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Old 03-16-2003, 04:50 PM   #10
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Thats was really good.
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Old 03-16-2003, 05:33 PM   #11
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Quote:
Originally posted by lardencelover
I also plan to get out the new chapter of Unravel Me asap.


egg-cellent *mr burns finger tapping thingie*


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Old 03-17-2003, 11:21 AM   #12
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yum. yum yum. yum yum yum.
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Old 04-12-2003, 02:18 AM   #13
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i cannot believe what i just read.
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Old 04-12-2003, 03:10 AM   #14
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Oh my gawd that was some story.


This is my first time in the Fan Fiction folder, im so glad I came in here.

Can somebody point me to some good Edge stories?
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Old 04-12-2003, 03:24 AM   #15
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how the hell are you dreamers gonna get any action if u2 is to busy making out with themselves?

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Old 04-13-2003, 02:46 AM   #16
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Gickies~

Once again, that comment is not necessary. You've made your opinion known.

I don't want to have to follow you around in every slash thread and reprimand you. That's ludicrous. Leave the people who enjoy slash be.
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Old 04-13-2003, 02:48 AM   #17
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they have the right to free speech, as do i.

if they can post porno stories about people i like, then i have the same right to stop by every so often and allow reality to hit them now and then.
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Old 04-13-2003, 02:53 AM   #18
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Everybody has the right of free speech.

However, I am obligated to do my best to make this place is peaceful and pleasant as possible. It's not just that I'm obligated...it's that I want to.

I'm trying to be reasonable with you. You don't like the slash. Fine. Some people here do though, and as of right now, there are no rules against posting slash. However, you posting comments that are obviously sarcastic/smart ass about work that other members of this community have posted is rude and inconsiderate.

I feel like a broken record, Gickies. Will you please just give it a rest?
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Old 04-13-2003, 02:59 AM   #19
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will you please get me banned?
Gickies Gageeze is offline  
Old 04-13-2003, 03:56 AM   #20
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Location: In a dimension known as the Twilight Zone...do de doo doo, do de doo doo...
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Quote:
Originally posted by Bonochick
Everybody has the right of free speech.

However, I am obligated to do my best to make this place is peaceful and pleasant as possible. It's not just that I'm obligated...it's that I want to.

I'm trying to be reasonable with you. You don't like the slash. Fine. Some people here do though, and as of right now, there are no rules against posting slash. However, you posting comments that are obviously sarcastic/smart ass about work that other members of this community have posted is rude and inconsiderate.

I feel like a broken record, Gickies. Will you please just give it a rest?
Really, no kidding.

"allow reality to hit them"-excuse me, Gickles? We know that nobody in U2 is homosexual in real life. Reality has "hit us". We're not stupid.

And by the way, we also know that we have a better chance of being struck by lightning than we do of "getting some action" with any of the guys in the band (not to mention, considering three of them have a significant other in their lives, we would never dream of doing anything to jeporadize their relationships they have if we ever DID have the opportunity to do something with them).

But there's something called fun and imagination, and as long as this forum allows us to post slash stories and allows us to have our fun in the PLEBA forums and all that, then we're gonna continue with that stuff.

And if it bothers you, Gickles, well..., then don't come to this area of the boards.

Okay. Now that that's out of the way, let's return to the original intent of this thread.

Sorry about this little tiff here.

Angela
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