#Im bouncing off the walls like a rubber ball | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angloie · 3 years

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Beach Trips and I'm Falling in Love 1/2

When Annabeth meets a strange boy on vacation, she doesn't expect for their relationship to grow much. He's... terribly sarcastic. Cocky. A not-so great match for her witty self. But after learning he visits the same beach every year she does, their strange friendship blooms into something more.

Their realtionship isn't the only thing that blooms over the yearsー that meaning a certain raven-haired boy.

genre ; childhood friends to lovers, fluff, strangers(?) to lovers, exchanging letters au, percabeth mortal au, 6.5k words.

warnings ; swearing, suggestive(?) themes.

Annabeth first falls in love with the beach at age seven during a vacation.

The airport was a little scary truth be told; new people and big security dogs. Though, the dogs are the things she likes most of the whole expirience. The plane there was much, much worseー she had never liked being so high up for so long. That's why Annabeth slept for most of it. (more like passed out.)

But now that she's woken up in a whole new setting, (that being her parent's cabin) her heart beats fastly with excitement. The unfamiliar aroma of saltwater and sand wafts into the bedroom, making her sniff deepy. The patched quilt that once layed on her is tossed to the wooden planked floors. Everything here is unfamiliar, whether it's the bedroom or the whole place itself.

Annabeth kicks her feet off the bed, rushing to the hallway. She practically bounces off the walls like a rubber ball. New, sights, new place, new people... She'll get the hang of it sooner or later.

Annabeth skids to a halt. "Can I go out?" She asks excitedly to the emptiness of the cabin, her voice echoing off the sparsely decorated walls. There's a pause. Then:

A voice pipes from somewhereー maybe the kitchen? "I dunno about that honey, we just-" Dad!

"Please! Just for a while!" Annabeth cuts him off and begs.

She can hear a sigh emit from him "Well, arlright..." There's a pause; most likely Helen shaking her head and laughing lightly. "But don't go too far! We don't know this place that well."

"Thank you!"

It only takes a second before Annabeth is already sliding her sandals on when she gets the ok to go, grabbing her sand castle building bucket and lathering on her sunscreen.

She beams brightly.

A vast blue sky, yellow sun, and glimmering sand. It's all so beautiful. Gorgeous. Alluring- though the seven year old doesn't quite understand what the new word means. She dashes somewhere, anywhere, excited to go see more. Meet more people! Collect sea shells! And it's fun. Fun with peeking under shells looking for crabs, getting her shorts wet from the water, getting tanned in the beating sun.

Annabeth loses track of time at one point or another. All she knows that the collection of shells in her bright red bucket are just so pretty, so why not collect some more?

'Don't go too far,' She can clearly recall her father's voice, 'We don't know this place all that well.'

That was maybe... three hours ago.

Now, the sun isn't hung that high in the sky. It's starting to dip beneath the ocean, red and orange staining the sky. The pale moon isn't visibleー but Annabeth knows that it might come out sooner or later.

Just a few more shells, she thinks, touge sticking from her lips as she struggles to carry the full bucket, Until I go back.

Where is 'back', anyways?

Annabeth doesn't know where she is right now. At all. Save for the patch of palm trees she had rested under for a while, far behind her.

Oh well. Right now, she tries to focus on collecting more shells. Now, where did that blue shell-

"Uh... What're you doing?"

The question comes as a shock to her, making Annabeth jolt slightly. She whips around.

To her left, there's, well... the ocean. To her right: A cluster of palm tress nestled in the sand. She does a full turn. Than another.

"What-" Annabeth starts in confusion, "Who's there?"

"Up here," The voice (slightly extageratted she might add) chides. It comes straight from the-

-The palm trees?

She comes face to face with blinking sea green eyes. Raven hair splays across the kids' forehead, hiding the tips of his eyes. The kids' legs swinging back and forth on one of the branches, palm leaves shaking slightly with him. Annabeth blinks owlishly in response.

"What're you doing up there?" Is all she can blurt out.

"Sitting," He says matter-of-factly. As if Annabeth couldn't already see that. "What are you doing?" The boy parrots, climbing down the wide trunk.

She steps back when he stands in front of her. He looks about her age, if she's correct. "Collecting shells?" Annabeth burries her sandal-clad heel in the sand. She picks up the blue sea shell she's had her eye on.

"Look, this ones-"

"That's mine!" The boy springs forward suddenly, taking the object from her hands. His eyes are wide like saucers. "You found my lucky shell!"

Annabeth falters. "A lucky shell? What's that?" She tilts her head in confusion. To be honest, that's one of the most ridiculous things that she has ever heard. Not that Annabeth would tell that to the person's face. That would be pretty rude.

When he doesn't respond from being too enveloped in the shine of the shell's blue coat, she grumbles.

"That isn't yours!" She says more loudly. It can't be, it can't! Shells don't belong to people; they're natural things! Aren't they? Plus, what even is a lucky shell?

He scoffs. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!" Annabeth stares fully at the shell. "If it's yours, then prove it."

The boy huffs as he flips the shell over, shoving it right in her face. She has to take another step back to see it properly. More like to see the small letters properly. It's small, black, and messy, but Annabeth can make out the nearly unreadable scribbles.

PERCY . J

"You're Percy?" She looks back at him.

"Mhm!" The boyー Percyー beams. "So yeah. That's my lucky shell. I was looking for it for a while."

Her eyebrow twitches. "Oh..." Annabeth trails off, dissapointed. She wanted that shell. Dang it. "Are you sure?" He nods affirmatively, making her face droop. They both stay silent for a second, letting the sound of crashing against the shore take over.

Percy turns around. "I'm gonna go back to my cabin now."

Annabeth, as if breaking out from a trance, grabs his wrist. "Wait!" She yelps, pouting.

He turns back around quickly with a grumble. "What?

"D-do you..." She lets go of his wrist once she see's the judging look on the boy's face. "Do you know where the cabins are, by any chance?"

It's a weird question out of context, really, and Annabeth isn't sure why she asks him of all people. He probably doesn't know his way around either, not to mention that she doesn't expect him to answer.

It's comes as a surprise to her when he asks: "Which ones?"

Annabeth's lips tug upwards in a hopeful smile. "Uh..." She tries to remember where it is. "The ones with the really tall palm trees beside the shore?"

Percy pauses; his eyes look up into space as if he's looking for an answer from the gods. "Oh!" He looks over behind him, "Where there's this weird blue-roofed cabin to the right?"

"Yeah! That's The one!" She exclaims. Her face lights up with memory, thinking of the exact location.

"Oh," He looks directly at her now, "That's where I'm staying, too."

"Oh." Annabeth repeats.

"Yeah."

"Huh."

The Walk back is... Normal. They bicker back and forth, throwing subtle insults. At one point Annabeth bargains to take the blue sea shell back for three of the pink ones, but Percy refuses. She huffs.

"Where'd you get your lucky shell anyways?" Annabeth asks as her feet pads onto the slightly damp sand.

"My mom," He grins, holding it high above his head. "We found it here last year, and I just kept it! She said that it would be a nice souvenir." Percy says proudly.

She wants to ask more, prod more, but it seems like they're already at their detination. The tall palm trees. The weird blue-roofed cabin. Annabeth looks over to him, as it seems like the last time they'll ever see each other. Percy, however, looks surprised.

"You're my-" He freezes, looking back and forth at the two cabins in front of them. One is Annabeth's. And the other is...

"What?" Annabeth asks. "Something wrong?"

"You're my neighbor!?" Percy gasps, horror striking his face. He takes a disgusted shudder and steps away from the blonde.

"Don't act that disgusted!" She jokingly pushes his shoulderー with a little less than just 'jokingly' in the shove. "But this actually sucks. I don't really like you," Annabeth admits.

"Me neither!" Percy rolls his eyes. "Im going inside!"

She crosses her arms as she looks away. "Me too!"

"Goodnight!"

Annabeth doesn't know howー or whenー it happens, but their friendship blooms sometime along with way.

"Whatever!"

Scratch that. Friendship is too much of a strong word. For now, the two can settle on frenemies.

Plus, their frenemieship doesn't exactly happen umpormpted; it takes the parents to force them together. Aparently, Percy had told his mom about the whole scenario. Whispers come to talk, and there they are, sitting on the steps of Percy's cabin while the two's parents talk inside. Annabeth can hear the laughs coming from inside. It makes her seethe.

"Why'd you tell?" Is all she can mutter.

"My mom asked me where I was," Percy simply says, "So I did!"

"I had to thank you ten times because of that, and now look where we are!" Annabeth glared pointedly. "They're all buddies now. Ew."

He reels. "Shut up."

"No."

"Shut up!"

"I said no!"

The door creaks open, and they both freeze.

"Annabeth!" Frederick calls out, stepping onto the wooden deck. "Oh, it looks like you two have already bonded! How nice," He smiles, looking at the two of them who sit side to side. It looks like they had just had a deep convorsationー except not the one you'd expect. Percy's mom, who Annabeth heard her name was Sally, steps beside him with her own smile.

It's weird. This nice-looking, kind woman who is related to such a loser like Percy? Even being his mom? She can't see the resemblance.

"Aw, you two look like best buds!" Sally pats the two of them on the shoulder, warm smile etched across her face. Annabeth smilies in response, despite her thoughts: She has got to ditch Percy as soon as possible.

"Why don't you two go visit downtown?" She looks over to Percy. His scowl is wiped away once she does it, replaced with a forced grin. "It'd be nice for you two to hang out, wouldn't it?"

No, it would not, Annabeth wants to say. I dislike this dude very much.

But as her life goes, she never gets what she wants.

"Okay!" Percy smiles, standing up. He makes an attempt to leave Annabeth in the dust by walking as fast as he can, his actions being immediately noticed by her. All Sally and Frederick do is confuse it with excitement.

Downtown is a sunshiney place with colourful chalk on the shop walls that line the roadsides. There's a white marble fountain in the middle of the square, and a small grass filed where people play frisbee. Ice cream, pizza, ramen, you name it. The smells make both of their mouths water with hunger. Annabeth looks over to the hotdog stand with wantful eyes.

Percy's stomach grumbles.

"What?" He asks, embarassed, when Annabeth looks over at him. She looks away, rummaging through the pockets of her jean jacket. After pulling out a few green bills, she shuffles her feet.

"Here." Annabeth stuffs two of them in Percy's hands. "Let's go buy something."

He falters. "Wha- Thanks, but why?"

"My dad always tells me to be polite," She says formaly, head held high. "And I'm trying to do it. What? You think I actually like you? Please." Annabeth won't admit it, but she doesn't actually mean it.

Percy frowns. "Whatever."

It's bland as they eat, quietness shared between the two children. Annabeth chews dryly. Percy swallows thickly. They find a spot to sit; a colorful bench in the heart of all the comotion.

"No!" Annabeth groans when her half-eaten ice popsicle falls to the concrete ground. She pouts. "Aw, come on." The biker (the reason she accidentally let it fall) is long gone without as much of a glance.

Percy, on the other hand, eyes the red popsicle. He hasn't eaten his own yetー it being still wrapped up in it's yellow wrapper.

He offers it to her.

"Huh?" She takes it suddenly, eyes slightly shocked. Her mouth waters with hunger. "I-is this for me?" Annabeth asks. She peels the wrapper off begrudgingly, the sticky texture on her fingertips. It's blueberry flavoured. One of her favourites.

"Who else?" Percy rolls his eyes.

Annabeth scoffs. "I thought you were hungry."

"Yeah, but you seem pretty hungry too."

There's two sticks in the treat, meaning that they can split it. She does so, splitting it apart with a crack, and hands it back to him while looking away. "Here. Take this."

"Aw, you like me after all!" He nudges her, smiling widely and instantly popping it in his mouth.

"Its politeness!" Annabeth can manage for the word.

Percy isn't such a loser. And neither is she.

The stars twinkle brightly by the time they head back, cicadas and crickets back again to sing their songs. Percy looks at Annabeth while she enters her cabin. Her stares at her from his own doorway.

"Goodnight." Is all he says.

Annabeth doesn't know howー or whenー it happens, but their friendship blooms sometime along with way.

This time, Annabeth replies properly. "Goodnight."

The next week goes a lot like this: Percy comes over to her room, (Frederick and Helen has already taken a liking to him) beach ball in hand and sunscreen slathered on.

"Let's go swim!" He yanks the blanket from her half-asleep figure with a snicker.

"Leave me alone, doofus!"

She always complains, but goes with him anyways.

Some days it was Annabeth who woke him up. Some days she works up at the crack of dawn just to haul him to the beach where they swam for hours. Those days, she never complains.

But today, Percy accompanies Annabeth at the airport.

"You better write back to me," He crosses his arms and huffs as she gives a lopsided smirk. Her luggage, decorated with patches she had collected, stands at her side. Her Parents chat with Percy's with hugs exchanged and sad smiles. "Or else I'm not your friend anymore."

That's the first time Percy says she's a friend.

Despite that, she remains a steady face. Her heart is racing. "You can write?" Annabeth gasps, a fake look of shock on her face. When the boy gives her a dirty look, she chuckles. "Don't worry. I'm coming back here soon."

"When?" He asks instantly.

"Next year. Maybe longer." She replies, rocking back and forth on her heels. Her feet are replaced with her green sneakers, a change from a week of wearing nothing but sandals. There's a certain sadness lacing her tone.

"That's too long."

"I know."

They seem to be acting tough, possibly for their own sakes, but it all crumbles to the ground when they both tear up. They hug each other, tightly, as if they won't be seeing each other for an eternity. Maybe they will.

"I'll write to you everyday!" Annabeth promises, pulling away. Her eyes are puffy and her nose is running.

"You better!" Percy wipes his nose on his shirt. "And I will too!"

Annabeth can't quite keep the promise of sending letters every day, that being the reason of school and other things, but she and Percy can settle on every week.

It takes both their parents to pull them away from each other when the time finally comes.

Percy's letters always has his signature blue envelope. It's bright in her hands when she opens her mailbox a week after seeing him as she reads the front. Her name is misspelled three times, and the envelope is clumsily sealed. It's exactly what she had imagined. His mom must've written it for him, because the writing is ten times more neater. The words make her smile.

That night, she reads it again.

Annabeth sends her own letters, envelope and papers with owl prints drawn on. Like Percy, her own hand writing is messy. So she has Helen write most of it for her.

Back and forth through the four seasons. They both start to send little trinkets to the other, too: dried up flowers, favourite pens, even some of Percy's favourite candiesー blue Jolly Ranchers, but they seem to taste better when he sends it.

I seriously hate school, Percy writes in a letter one week, Everyone here sucks.

Well, not a few people, but a lot of people do. They're all rude. And suck ups. Even the teachers are like that! They all just act all better than me, just because. I don't really know why.

The next part is written in his own handwriting.

But of course, they're not! I beat them in dodgeball today, but i got a bruise on my cheek when I fell flat on my face. Nothing I can't handle!

Annabeth rolls her eyes at that, pen in hand while she reads the remians of it. She notes that there's a picture attached at the bottom with a obnoxious green paperclip. Taking it off, she stares at it.

Percy beams at her; er, the camera, a noticeable bruise square on his left cheek. A band-aid is stuck onto his forehead. Annabeth can only assume where it's from. For some reason the boy is smiling toothily. He looks exactly like he had been only a while ago, tanned skin and scrawny arms. His uncureable case of bedhead has also somehow stayed intact.

She sends her own picture: A amuture snap taken by her dad, standing in the sun at the park near her house. Her lips pull upwards into a wide, bright smile.

"Say cheese!" Frederick points the lenses to her.

Annabeth beams. "Cheeeese!" She giggles.

Percy doesn't want to admit it, but he'd spent more time than he liked staring at the picture.

Annabeth and Percy are right when they next meet again; though Annabeth likes to say that she's eight and three quarters.

The girl had arrived in the middle of the night while she was still snoring. Like last time, she had woken up in a bedー the same one as of today. Though she can't quite notice. Her body still radiates tiredness, mucsles sore and limbs unmoving.

"Annabeth!" Percy shakes the blonde awake, her hair messy hair shaking back and forth. She groans through her lips.

"Wha-" She flips over, looking at him. "Its- Percy!?" Annabeth jolts upwards, eyes wide and fully awake.

He smirks at her. "Hey." Percy stands up straight now, taking a step back. "Its been a while-"

Annabeth pulls him in for a hug. "i missed you!" She says, hugging him even more tightly. "So much!" Percy, after a second, hugs back with just as much happiness. His face burries in her shoulder.

"Me too," Percy replies, voice muffled. "So much."

It might be a long minute when they finally pull away.

"I-I was just being polite," Annabeth turns away with embarassment. "Don't think too much about it."

"Y-yeah, same."

They both know that they're lying.

After a while, it almost becomes routine. They spend a blissful week together playing on the beach. Both Percy and Annabeth cry their eyeballs out when they have to leave. The rest of the year is spent exchanging letters.

Summer of when they're twelve, Annabeth says something that makes Percy frown immediately.

"We won't be able to come back here for a while," She says, laying on the sand.

"Oh." Percy says. "That's what you always say. "So... You'll be here next year."

She sighs, looking at the waves lapping across the sandy shores. People swim happily in the cool waters, unlike them, who sit under the shade of a tall palm tree.

"...Right?" He repeats slowly, carefully, when she doesn't respond.

"No." Annabeth burries her face in her hands. "We won't be coming next year. Or the year after that."

"What!?" Percy''s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "And why not?"

"Helen, she... You know that the twins will be born soon. And my dad wants to take a break from vacations for a while." She grumbles.

"And that means-"

"We won't be coming back for a very, very long time."

Dread dawns onto Percy like a spotlight.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Then it truly settles in.

"Oh, no."

The next night is what Percy assumes to be the last night spent with Annabeth in a few years. That sentence makes him sick to the stomach, so he avoids thinking about it.

If he stops thinking about it, will it never happen? If he somehow begs Annabeth's parents, will she come again next year? If Percy, someway, hopes hard enough, will she be here next year, and the next?

His thoughts gnaw at him like rats. Laying awake in his messy bed, chapped lips and ruffled hair.

There's really only one thing that can help him now.

"Hey." Percy manages to sneak into Annabeth's room via window. Her room is chilly. He feels like scolding her for keeping her window unlocked, but then Percy would just sound like his mom. He nudges her softly. "Wake up."

Annabeth, groggy and sleep deprived, opens one of her eyes. "Hm? Oh..." Hse tries to keep her eyes open. "Percy?"

It's a small whisper. Her mouth is dry and her limbs are sore. Annabeth's pillow is dampened; she had just cried only hours prior before she passed out fron exhaustion. Its a bleak memory that A Annabeth cringes upon. She chews her lip.

"C'mon," Percy says, "Let's go to our spot."

Annabeth doesn't put up a arguement. She knows that he wants to spend the most time together as possible, and the feeling is mutual. She feels her own sort of sadness: An icky feeling that leaves her feeling all scummy when she remembers she wont see Percy for a very long time.

So she goes with him, cotton sweater flimsy flip-flops hastily threwn on. Their footsteps make the old wood creak, but thankfully, no one wakes from the noises.

Their 'Spot' is a hill, high above the rising tides. Its where they go every year. Its where they made memories. Its a place that they can't imagine ever staying away from.

The nightly wind is gone this particular night. It only leaves comfortable silence.

"So how long will you be away for?" Percy asks, pulling his knees to his chest. Hus eyes droop down.

Annabeth fiddles with a stick she found on the grassy ground. "I don't wanna say it. Its too long."

But after she hesitates, Annabeth gives in. "...Six years."

"What?"

"Six years," She repeats, more strongly this time, "That's my estimate."

Percy's breath hitches in his throat. Six years? Six years without her?

"That's forever." Percy comes to the horrible conclusion. No, no- there must be somesort of mistake! Annabethwill be here next year, and that's that. "Are you sure?"

Annabeth nods grimly. Her eyes are screwed shut, as if she cant see it, it won't happen. If she cant see, then maybe it'll all be a bad dream.

She's just like him.

They both know its futile to do anything else. To do something, one last thing, one last visit down, one more. Its bitterly cold. Saltwater invades their senses, and to be honestー they're both exhausted. From a week of long playing in the sun. From a lot of things.

For now, each others company is enough. To know that they're there, in person, is enough. Being together is enough.

So they lay there.

Hand in hand, shoulders pressed up together. The moonlight is the only thing helping Annabeth see in the dark, while Percy grips her hand tighter. The stars above... They're bright. Tiny, miniscule, but they're bright and shining. Like yesterday. Today. And forever. He sniffs. The sky is incoming and unchanging. That's how both Percy and Annabeth want it to beー unchanging between them.

The next morning is bland. Annabeth wakes up with a large amount of dread looming over her, like a heavy cloud of muck. From the clock on her nightstand she can read 5:02 AM; a time in which Percy is most likely fast asleep.

That doesn't really matter. They're goodbyes are said, long done, and that's that. Annabeth already had a bittersweet moment with Percy. Why ruin with a tearful goodbye?

It hurts to not say one last goodbye to him.

The airport. Even at such a early time, it still hums with livelyness and people's chattering. Well, you know what they say. The airport never really does stop working. Not for anyone.

If Percy was here now, what would he say? Give a last cocky smirk and throw a snarky insult? Annabeth would just laugh it off and hug him, as per usual, as per every year. It's a shame.

her parents have already entered the airport, leaving Annabeth standing in front of the huge terminal. She lets out a sigh and clutches her luggage closer. Well. this is it for-

"Annabeth!"

Is that- No. It can't be. Annabeth grips the metal handle of her luggage harder. It makes her knuckles turn into a sickly shade of pale, resembling a sheet of paper. He's not here. He's asleep, gone, and I'm imagining things. He can't possibly be-

"Wisegirl!"

When the voice calls out again, Annabeth knows for sure that it's him.

Percy.

The boy instantly engulfs her in a hug. It's warm, soft, familiar. All the qualities Annabeth likes most about him.

Great, she's tearing up.

"Don't forget me." Percy mumbles into her shoulder. "Please don't forget me." His voice is watery and wavering: He's crying. She can feel is tears dampening her sweater-clad shoulder, and all she can think is how she's doing the same.

"Never," Annabeth says, squeezing her eyes shut. "I promise."

Percy wants to say so much. How he woke up through his tiredness. How he biked here, all one hour of it, to find her, and how he couldn't sleep because he needed to hear her voice. Childish or immature as it be, its true.

He pulls away slowly and rummages through his pockets as he sniffs. "Here. Take this."

Annabeth's eyes widen. "You're" She grips it, mouth going dry. His shell, still blue as ever and pristine, tilts in her hands. "You're gonna give me this?"

She knows it's his favourite thing in the world, save for blue cookies and his small whale plushie. He never leaves it unattended, never dirties it, either. Annabeth knows that Percy never lends it to anyone, and keeps it like it's his life's worth. So why is he giving it to her? His eyes are teary and foggy as tears spill from his eyes, but she can't see any regret or remorse on his face. That's means he's giving it to her with no qualms, whatsoeverー But why?

"You better make sure to return it!" Percy sniffles again, wiping his runny nose on his shirt. "I'll be waiting!"

"I will."

Annabeth thinks that's the most she's cried ever.

The years pass like clockwork, because really, it is.

It's happens like any other year. She goes to school, gets good grades and live like any other day. She sends letters to Percy consistently. They're all sent with souvenirs, trinkets, little notes and scraps. It helps in a theraputic way.

Annabeth doesn't really blame her parents for taking a break. She tries to understand. And it's hard. The twins are lovely. Lovely as newborns can get, at least, they're smiley and bright. Matthew and Bobby, that's their names. They don't cry much. Annabeth likes that. They throw food at her sometimes. Annabeth doesn't like that.

Summer thirteen passes slowly. She tries to pass it with friends, but none of them can really compare to Percy.

Summer fourteen Annabeth enters Highschool. She keeps Percy's lucky she'll on her bedside table, stacked upon a cluster of books. She spends that summer inside, reading books about architecture. They can distact her from the dread of missing him.

Summer fifteen and she sends a package to Percy. There's the usual letter, one of her favourite books, and notes for the new math curriculum that they both happen to be on. She knows that he seriously hates reading, but Annabeth doesn't really expect him to read it.

(He spends all night reading it.)

Summer sixteen, and Percy sends the recipe for his mom's famous blue cookies. That makes her smile uncontrollably. Percy never trusts anyone that much to send one of his favorite recipes; much less the one for his most prized blue cookies. Annabeth is sure to send a recipe of her own for her favorite apple pie.

(Percy can't really stop eating it. Somehow, it reminds him if her.)

Summer seventeen Annabeth makes new friends. They make her mind forget about Percy more, but when she's laying awake at night, she can't really stop thinking about him. He's grown. His smile is as warm and bright as ever, and his hair which was once ruffles in a messy way had become endearing. Annabeth thinks it suits him.

She sends her own pictures. Annabeth thinks that she hasn't grown very much compared to Percy, but she's grown in height. Her hair reaches a length's past her shoulders, and her curls have become more tameable. It's easier to style.

Percy can write much better now, too. His writing is somewhat readable. His letters are still cocky and sarcastic as ever, but his words can clearly shows that he misses her. Annabeth does too. He's learned how to surf. Percy promises to teach her when she visits again. Not to mention he got a dogー a huge, massive ball of black fluff named Mrs. O'Leary. Apparently she's a rescue from one of his neighbours. Annabeth has her own dog as well; a lanky Doberman that she calls cerberus. She swears to introduce him to Mrs. o'leary.

(He looks forward to that.)

Still summer seventeen, and Annabeth learns that Percy has gotten close with someone.

She's supportive of him, of course, but Annabeth can't really say that when she frowns at the news. Rachel. That's her name. Rich, red-haired and pretty, she's probably a good fit for him. Annabeth sees her in the pictures he sends. Beach trips together, days spent in each other's company. She tries as hard as she can not to say something about it.

Rachel is pretty. Rachel is kind. She donates to homeless shelters and fundraises to help the rainforest, Rachel is the daughter of some rich buisness owner.

Rachel is everything Annabeth is not.

Laying on her bed that night, she comes to a horrible realization.

Those feelings of jealousy... They’re more than that, aren't they? It's more, so much more, it's the feeling of desire. Wanting. Because after years, Annabeth learns that she likes Percy.

And Percy likes someone else.

Summer eighteen and Annabeth is on the plane to her family’s cabin. She's eighteen years old now; it's been six years.

Six, long years of waiting, six summers spent wasting, six years of exchanging letters. Six years of waiting and longing.

Her leg bounces up and down erratically as the plane nears it's destination, the window passing blinding white clouds. The airport was just as busy as Annabeth remembered. The sights, smells, sounds... It's been a while since she's experienced this. It makes her mind race.

"You excited?" Helen gives a small smile towards her. The twins snore loudly beside her. "I bet you are. It's been a while since you've seen him, right?"

"Mhm," Annabeth hums, grinning to herself. Somehow, she already knows who Helen is talking about. "Six years."

"Hm?"

"Its been six years," She says, leaning her cheek on her palm. "Six years since I've last seen him."

Percy.

Annabeth is eighteen when she falls in love with the beach for the second time.

The cabin looks just like it was before. Dark brown wood, potted plants littering the windowsills, metal and glass chimes hanging from the ceilings. Nostalgia runs through Annabeth's mind.

So, with her hair flying behind her and parents chuckling behind her from the car, she bursts open the doors with laboured breaths. The humidity is at a level so high it gets Annabeth's hair all frizzyー but she doesn't mind one bit. She takes a deep inhale.

Fresh saltwater. Driftwood, the sweet smell of vanilla, the alluring scent of coral.

"Can I go out?" Annabeth practically jumps the whole way to the living room, parents unpacking. She runs her hands on the walls; she knows the place like a book from all the previous years spent there.

Annabeth's heart drops when they shake their heads. "Sorry, sweetie," Frederick sighs. "Could you wait until dinner? The twins would probably follow you everywhere; they're pretty energetic right now."

She frowns. "But-" Annabeth exhales, and her shoulders slump. "...Alright."

As the blonde walks back to her room, she can't help but think: Where even is Percy? At the beach? In his room? It's been a while since she last sent a letterー but Annabeth thought he would be expecting her. Maybe not. Maybe, he's busy spending time with Rachel. Not that she really blames him.

So she lays there, staring at the white ceiling. It's smooth unlike her popcorned ceilings back at her house. Annabeth can imagine what Percy's doing right now; most likely teaching Rachel how to surf, like he wrote in his most previous letter. That was... A month ago, right? She's learned how to surf, too.

Annabeth eats dinner with a small frown on her face.

What's the point? She thinks to herself, shoving the plate of noodles in her mouth. She slurps it up. What's the point in seeing him, anyways?

Well, let's see. One: I haven't seen him in six years. That's true. Annabeth's heart aches to see him again, but she can't really bring up the courage to see him.

Two: I have to return his lucky sea shell. She thinks of the shell that stands on her bedside table. It's coat is blue and chipped at that point from all the years.

Three: I really, really want to see him again. Annabeth agrees to herself to that, but there's something lacking. Something that's stopping her from seeing him.

What if Percy doesn't want to see me?

It's stupid, sure, after everything they went through, why would Percy not want to see her? The airport visit from six years ago was enough to proove her wrong, but... The doubt still lingers on Annabeth's head. Rachel was probably fine. She doesn't even know the girl for goodness sakeー why would Annabeth ever hate her in any way?

So, stepping out of the cabin with a determined look, she starts off to find Percy.

The cabin next to hers has no occupants. There's people living in there of course, the light inside gives it away. But there's none inside.

Okay. Next, the beach. The sure is setting, so only a few last minute stragglers are there. The waves are just as beautiful as Annabeth imagined. She chews on her bottom lip, where could he be? Downtown. The ice cream shop. Even the boardwalk. Annabeth has no luck in finding the raven haired boy.

Well, desperate times call for desperate measures.

She walks up to their spot.

It's like a walk to memory lane, really, the trees stretch even farther and the grass is way outgrown. The old log that she and Percy used to sit on is now covered with moss and growing mushrooms. Annabeth smiles to herself. It's been a while.

Have those bags always been here? She thinks to herself. She eyes the bags: Two of them, one black and one a vibrant splash of colors. They must belong to someone else.

When Annabeth sees a familiar figure, she practically beams, because holy shit, it's Percy!

His shoulders are broader than she remembered. His hair is gorgeously fluffy and volumous, and his voice is more richer than Annabeth thought. But, wait- why is he talking to himself?

"Seaweed br-"

That when Annabeth sees her.

A head of red hair sits beside him, laughing to spend joke of his. Or at least that's what Annabeth thinks is happening. Oh, her face falls. That must be Rachel. She fit the description she has had in her head for a while now: Pretty. Laid back.

Annabeth thought their spot was a spot for themー a spot where their memories were made, a spot where Percy introduced her to, a spot where only Annabeth knew.

Her arm slowly drops to her side when Rachel pecks him on the cheek.

Walking back, she thinks she's a fool. How could she be the only person who knew of that place? Such an idiot! Of course Percy would find someone else, like someone else, kiss someone else. Annabeth can't blame him. She can't blame Rachel, or anyone else, because how could she?

That night, Annabeth can't fall asleep.

(Percy can't either, because he can't stop thinking about Annabeth and how he thinks he saw her back there.)

#WHY DIDWRITING THIS TAKE SO LONG #BECAUSE I HAVE TOO MUCH WIPS THATS WHY #i hate myself #percabeth #annabeth Chase #percy jackson #percabeth fluff #percabeth fic #percabeth au #percabeth angst #chb #camp jupiter #the seven #camp half blood #annabeth #percy #rick Riordan #percabeth oneshot

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anonil88 · 3 years

Text

Malcolm and Marie live blog

I don't usually do liveblogs for movies but yea.

Spoilers ahead!!

I love that its modern timed but very 70s stylized.

A tune indeed.

When you are high and drunk on success and

How the white critic reacts is why I feel like gatekeeping my scripts. At the same time some things I do make are about race or involve.

Marie sitting on the patio smoking is a mood whenever men are talking.

So he's pretentious and unaware.

Whoever chose the music for this, I feel like we would be Spotify mutuals.

Can this nigga stop pacing.

Also can he stop talking;

Marie is so tired and unimpressed.

Also little booties matter and are to be bitten.

Oooo the tension and the jazz.

Title Card over mac and cheese.

Shitty boxes mac and cheese but still mac and cheese.

Tbh i always wonder if spouses/significant others get upset when their spouses don't acknowledge them during speeches.

John sounds so much like his dad but I really hope his acting style differs from his dad a lot.

Guilty confession?

He did not profit off of his partners backstory and then not even acknowledge her.....I.....

If that ever happened to me catch me cussing my partner out during the beginning credits, the end credits, in the car, and at home.

GASLIGHTER!

The way I'm excited for Zendaya to give me some, oooo can she work with Regina King. Please on my knees I pray.

Um no that's not your job to coddle your lead.

He's a dick and the type of dick who makes himself look like a good person around other people.

If Sam Levinson is trying to make his viewers more of misandrist, it's working.

I feel like Marie has her flaws probably a lot of them and we will surely see as this continues, but Malcolm needs to learn how to apologize sincerely.

70s vibes! 70s vibes!

Them kissing and talking about criticism and dreams makes me miss a partner. A partner that I've had and haven't had.

Women really are behind every great man.

Yea sir you fucked a happy moment.

Oh visual allegories for looking in from the outside and cat and mouse chasing and looking from the outside in.

She's saying she doesn't feel noticed by you.

Gas lighter :0 he called her an emotional support dog, bruh.

I would LOVE to co-write or take a writing class held by Sam Levinson. The fights i write are very much in this same realm of reflection and anger and monologue.

Sam.....sam.....are all the sides inside of you doing okay sir?

The ugly side of dating and being in a relationship with someone who struggles with their own demons.

Honestly I could close my eyes and listen to this script being read without seeing these characters visually. Just close my eyes and get a sense of these characters like it was a radio story.

Oh. Oh this is a new wheelhouse of Zendaya acting; a different voice is like breaking through here and her expressions aren't the same we are used to. You can literally hear another character in there....hmm.

Mans is outside really fighting with his invisible demons lmfao.

Selfish ass, how after everything she said you came out of it thinking about your own craft and self instead of how you hurt her.

So she's conditional.

Me: did sam (a white man) say nigga this many times in his script or are the actors adding their own inflections. Not just the lingo used but the topic of race and directing etc. being written by a white writer about black characters is always gonna be a critique when you're writer is a white person.

Alexa play Broken Girls by Saba

He is so hurtful.

A clown nigga a clown look in the fucking mirror you bozo head ass looking like you need some Mehron clown white and a size 16 in clown shoes.

John is doing a really swell performance and reading of these lines.

He is reading her for her insecurities by bringing up his experiences with other women and that.....is yikes.

Arguments can get messy like this in real life but it takes a lot of maturity and control to either not let it get to this point or have a healthy conversation afterwards.

This film is really shot on some very crisp lenses.

They sitting there like 🚬🧍‍♀️🧍‍♂️.

Leftover Mac and Cheese and unfinished cigarettes.

The nyt etc. pay walls are so annoying, but there is a work around look at the articles on incognito or add a period at the end of the url.

He sounds like his daddy so much here, weird, this is the only part I'm eh on the dialogue it feels real but a bit out of pace in how they are bouncing off one another.

Nail scissors? So the end is not the only part he based off of Marie. 🙄

ITS A GOOD REVIEW YOU DINGUS but also its a full review they are going to critique things. She isn't wrong though he did profit off of a woman's story that was not his own to profit from.

Yes Malcolm because unfortunately all marginalized people look through a lens of life that is inherently political because of the world they live in.

He is so mad and upset and had a lot on his chest. But I think he Malcolm and Sam are talking about something thats an issue and a non issue. Being critiqued for you art is hard but also Malcolm is not super self aware. He's like a stand in figure of for example rich depop sellers who wanna be oppressed so badly they yell at others instead of examining their own personal behaviors and ethics.

Oh Marie, when you know the spark is gone and you pick fights because.

He ain't even ask her to read?

One critic I have for most of hollywood actors is they learn their cry and that is it. A change from this is Margot Robbie, I adore her fluctuations of crying being similar but the crying is carried differently for each character. If I had to say any actor that does a cry scene amazing its this woman right here (Amy Adams)

You stole her story from her and gave it away, she has a right to be upset and angry and a rubber band ball of emotions.

Citizen Kane, not the cinematography, but the story is it even that good? (Unpopular opinion but meh, maybe in my rewatch it will be better.)

But that is what people want authenticity and whatever authenticity means to them. What is real for one is false for another.

To be honest look at the criticism of Euphoria, well earned, but a lot of people were like this isn't real even though he literally wrote about his own life. People said it was inauthentic like....wtf.

Ahh the smoking is just a habit, he quit and she didn't.

CAST ZENDAYA IN A HORROR MOVIE PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING. Get Lupita and Zendaya and some more black actors preferably less known ones in a horror movie. One with a interesting script and story, directed by Regina King. Please and thankyou.

I love Marie yep that was amazing.

Behind every great man is a greater woman, one that deserves her credit for how she has stood behind. I wonder the stories of those women, what they have sacrificed or not sacrificed. Their thoughts and feelings when the world is surrounding their partner and views them as a plus one. (I'd write a short script about this but I think do I have the time, can I, or am I equipped ?)

He is a shitty person for bringing up his exes, like she even said I don't wanna know any of that.

Imagine being on anti depressents and rarely having a sex drive and then when you do your partner starts talking about their exes and tearing you apart for all your faults.

I love when you see peaks of Zendaya's cadence in roles.

Tension, what if's and he didn't even bring her up in his speech.

Marie to herself and the audience:

He is not afraid that he will loose her but as my character says in my unreleased story, "i can't wait til you give me a fucking reason to leave your ass." Malcolm expects everything in order for not even doing the bare minimum and she is only asking him for something as simple as consideration. She just wants him to be considerate. He wants to get married and considers their relationship like rolling down a hill at full speed and he cannot apologize, he cannot be considerate, and he cannot admit his wrongs. He can only offer her I love yous that he probably does mean but he does not back up outside of what he's done for her in the past. The past which was more of her experience than his and he sees his part in it as a burden. He doesn't use his own vantage point of the past to further his career he uses her. He does all of these things without a real apology or thankyou because he is not afraid to loose her.

The restrictions of quarantine and the panorama have made Sam's writing very no frills. I wonder how other films from other directors and writers that are filmed in small contained crews like this will be structured. But this was a very good movie gonna add to my letter box 3.3-3.5

Oh shit this is my song,

Ratings/overall thoughts:

Script is like a C+, B- : I could go into my heavier big brain thoughts on the script but I don't feel like it. You catch hints of it above it centers conversation on race and privilege, mainly the writers and questions i have that won't be answered but Sam did make me grow disdain for Malcolm over a short time. Which is sometimes hard to do because im one sympathetic person but the sympathy i have for Malcolm is at 0. Maybe a 2 at some scenes but then it quickly goes back to 0. Some parts of the dialogue miss the mark or hit the are off balanced. While some of it like Malcolm's bathroom speech albeit mean is really strong or their conversation when he comes back from peeing really shines for me.

Performances: B+ to A- because they carried the script further than it could of gone with less talented actors. The monologues do well to showcase their current skill levels which are already high af and leave room for anticipation in where these actors go next.

Zendaya holding a knife: A+ with a gold star. That switch on and off and on is delectable.

John being a shitty boyfriend but following Marie like a lost puppy: B+ with a good job written at the bottom of the paper, Malcolm being nervous a frantic dialed up with more realistic nervousness would have sold me completely on Malcolm's anxious waiting.

Cinematography: A and a participation award.

The mac and cheese: A+ for the easy mac. Wish it was like Annie's or Velveeta.

Cigarettes: Participation award and their picture hung up for student of the month. Why the grill lighter? Everytime Malcolm opened up his mouth Marie was like sparks fly.

The music: A++ with a prize. Whoever picked the music probably makes good Spotify playlists.

#Malcolm & Marie #malcolm and marie #zendaya coleman #zendaya #john david washington #liveblog #mine

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ichorai · 4 years

Text

cellmates ; one ; j.wy

pairing ; jung wooyoung x reader

summary ; stuck in jail after stealing a necklace off the princess, what happens when your new cellmate with an impossible escape plan comes along?

words ; 3.1k

warnings / includes ; medieval au, blood and grime and death and everything in between rip, wooyoung being handsome despite being in a filthy cell djkdfj, wooyoung being a smartass, reader being petrified half the time lol, future suggestive / mature content, cellmates to (future) lovers !!

a/n ; i’ve been meaning to write a medieval au for the longest time bcs im an absolute sucker for them and i finally got around to writing part one !!! pls be patient for part two !! i hope yall enjoy :3

cellmates masterlist.

The jail cell was cold. You shivered violently, breath misting in front of you as you blew out a tired sigh. They had stripped you of all your clothes except a thin beige tank top (that had actually once been white), and ripped tights. Dried blood matted your hair to your forehead, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care at the moment. It was too damn cold.

You found yourself wishing that you hadn’t stolen that necklace off of the innocent little princess. The silver glinting against her pale collarbones were just too enticing, the angry grumble of your stomach far too loud. That much silver would’ve cost a fortune; you wouldn’t have had to worry about food for years. Unfortunately, the guard caught you before you had time to make your escape, by effectively knocking a heavy baton over your head.

And the result of your desperate endeavor? A small, icy jail cell in the farthest and darkest corner of the dungeons. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen the sun.

A life sentence for attempting to ‘harm’ the princess. Oh please, all you really wanted was to go to bed without your belly twisting painfully in hunger. At least they weren’t barbaric enough to hang you for that.

The thought had tremors running up your spine. Or perhaps it was the cold.

A dim amber light appeared from the corner of your eyes, echoing footsteps gradually getting louder with each thump. Was it dinner time already? You hadn’t even eaten yesterday’s yet.

The same guard you’d seen just about a thousand times by now appeared in front of the frigid metal bars, melting candle in hand. Grizzly beard blanketing his chin and jaw, faint scar mark running over his left cheekbone, and slanted eyes the color of the princess’ silver necklace. A daily reminder of your worst mistake, it would seem.

He muttered something unintelligible before shoving a tray through the narrow slot, wintry water sloshing about in the small wooden cup with the same chunk of stale bread on the side that always tasted like metal.

How delicious. The cold had numbed you to the point where hunger was the least of your problems.

You remembered when you had first gotten here, croaking out a wispy ‘thank you’ to the guard whenever he had given you your food, hoping that he’d take sympathy and give you a bit more, or maybe even get you a blanket. You were foolish back then, you thought solemnly, curling up tighter and burying your face in between your knees.

Perhaps one of the worst things possible about being in jail was that you had absolutely nothing to do. Sometimes you would try to exercise to keep your blood running through your body and make sure your muscles hadn’t frozen over, but exhaustion constantly hung above you like a stormy cloud. More oftenly, you would make up fantastical stories including dragons and elves and faeries. But after hundreds (or maybe it was just around twenty, but who was counting?) of different stories, your creativity would run short and you would find yourself pausing mid-story, trailing off into a disappointing end of ‘and they lived till they died’.

Turns out you weren’t going to be bored alone, at least.

You had been in a fitful slumber when you heard the footsteps approach. That was strange, usually there’d only be the one guard to deliver your measly dinner.

Curious eyes grew wide when you took sight of two guards holding up an unconscious man, the toes of his worn leather boots dragging against the damp stones of the dungeon ground.

What you wouldn’t give for a nice pair of leather boots. Your toes twitched in your worn socks at the thought.

They began stripping him of his clothes, much like they had done to you in the beginning, grunts of exertion leaving them in misty huffs. They left shortly after, grumbling about being ‘fuckin’ cold’. As if they had any right to complain.

In the dim light of the candles, you could barely make out what the new prisoner looked like. He was slumped up against one of the icy stone walls, dark hair tied into a short ponytail. A low groan escaped the man, foot twitching as he slowly aroused from unconsciousness.

“Fuck,” His voice came out hoarse and raspy. He pushed against the floor to prop himself up at a better angle. More curses left his lips in a rapid flurry. You watched in timid fascination as he raised a pale hand to dab against his forehead, hissing when he pulled away with crimson staining his skin.

Looking upwards, he finally caught your curious gaze.

The two of you stared at one another for a second before he huffed, reaching up to his head once more. This time, his fingers didn’t only pull away with blood, but with a thin hair pin that glinted against the candle’s small flame.

You hadn’t noticed that your mouth was hanging slightly open when he struggled to his feet, limbs shaking with effort and cold.

And he started picking the lock, stopping every minute or so to blow his breath onto his quickly numbing fingers.

After less than ten minutes, the frozen bars swung open with a rusty creak.

At that point, you yourself had gotten up, eyes widening. You shuffled closer to your own locked bars. It was as if the man had forgotten you were there, flinching when he turned and saw you pressed up against your cell.

“Don’t leave me here,” You whispered, starting to feel the familiar feeling of desperation clawing at your throat.

For a second, he looked conflicted. A hard, determined film passed over his eyes and he tore his gaze away.

“Sorry,” Was all he said.

And he left, just as quickly as he had come.

Strings of foul curses left his mouth once he was dragged back. And this time, he was far bloodier than before. He barely looked like the same person.

You had to hold in a breath as they threw his limp body back into the cell, one of them spitting at his feet. Grimacing, you looked away and scowled.

Perhaps if he had let you out as well, the both of you would’ve been able to escape.

Ten minutes after the guards had left, the man across from you reached behind his back to pull something out. He didn’t have another hair pin, did he? Would he let you out this time?

Probably not, you thought bitterly.

The object he pulled out was small and round, a shiny red ball that seemed to glisten beneath the candlelight.

It made a resonating thud against the stone of the cell, echoing down the halls.

And he did it again. And again. And three, four, ten times more.

“Please stop,” You found yourself saying, a headache brewing behind your temple. But your voice was too soft, drowned out by the incessant bouncing of his rubber ball.

Downing what was left in the damp wooden, you mustered the courage to croakily shriek, “Stop! Please, stop!”

Startled by your sudden noise, he hadn’t been able to catch the ball’s last bounce, and crimson streaked past as it hit the wall behind him, ricocheting past the jail bars and out into the hallway. You watched silently as it rolled away, until it was far out of your sight.

“Bitch,” You heard him mutter under his breath.

You felt the hairs on the back of your neck rise as you sneered at him, “You’re a fool, you know. Thinking you could escape a place like this.”

“Oh, yeah?” His eyebrows raised while he shuffled closer, pressing his pale face against the cold bars. Now that he was out of the shadows, you managed to get a proper look of his face. He was all bone and skin, dark hair grown a little too long, hazel eyes glinting along with the dim flames. “At least I managed to get out of my cell. That’s probably more than you’ve ever done.”

If he was trying to pick a fight with you, it wouldn’t work.

“What’s the point, anyways? There’s only so much out there for people like us.”

“People like us… ?”

Your eyes darted to him, and you immediately averted your gaze. It’d been a long time since anyone had properly looked at you. Perhaps under all the blood and grime, he’d actually be quite handsome.

“Commoners, peasants. We grow up stupid, work until our fingers bleed, and then die from a disease because we don’t have the money for a healer.”

A low rumble that could pass as a laugh worked its way out of him, “You’re telling me you would rather stay locked up in here than back outside? You don’t want to feel the sun on your face, the taste of sweet fruits, the warmth of another human being?”

“Of course I do,” You retorted. “I’m just saying that it’s pointless.”

The man’s eyes narrowed, “How long have you been here?”

“Too long to keep track.”

At this point, you couldn’t really tell whether it was refreshing to talk to someone after so long, or just plain annoying. He stayed silent for a moment, before speaking up once more.

“What got you here?”

You huffed. There was no harm in telling him, right?

“I ripped a priceless necklace off of the princess because I was hungry.”

It was as if his volume tripled when he yelped, “You’re Y/N L/N?!”

How he had that much energy after getting beaten up twice, was still a mystery to you.

“The one and only.” You wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. It seemed that you were quite famous in the outside world.

“That’s amazing,” He breathed out, eyes wide as he leaned further into the bars. “My name’s Wooyoung. I’m your new cellmate.”

Your eyes flickered to his once more. If you were going to be stuck here with him, might as well get to know him a little better.

“I’m not your cellmate,” You deadpanned, despite Wooyoung’s disappointed pout. “You’d need to be in the same cell as me to be my cellmate.”

One of his shoulders lifted in a half-shrug.

“So why are you here?” Part of you was afraid of what he was going to say. He didn’t really seem to strike you as someone who’d do anything seriously terrible… right?

“I… I just threw one or two punches at the crown prince, is all. And maybe a kick to the groin. And gave him a couple broken ribs.” He laughed a little at that last part, as if the memory amused him.

“You what?”

Scoffing, Wooyoung flicked his hair out of his eyes, “I think you heard me perfectly clear, sweetheart.”

A strange feeling blossomed in your stomach. You shuffled a bit closer to your own bars, until the light hit your face.

“Was it worth it?”

Wooyoung paused at the unexpected question.

“Yeah, I would do it again. A million times over.” It was the first time he looked away, a distant glaze over his eyes. “He was touching a servant girl and she was begging him to stop. But he didn’t. So I intervened.”

A palpable silence laid over the two of you, thick and heavy.

“Good,” Was all you said. “I’m going to sleep.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s morning.”

You ignored him. Time didn’t matter anymore, not to you. Soon enough, he’d stop caring as well.

Hours and days melted into weeks and months, along with the frost on the bars and the icicles hanging off the ceilings.

At least it wasn’t cold anymore. Everything was wet.

“Okay… would you rather live knowing how you die or live forever?” Wooyoung asked in queer tone, laying down on the ground with his bare back pressed against the damp stone.

You bit into a chunk of stale bread, pausing to chew around the hard crust before swallowing, “No one wants to live forever.”

“Rich people do,” He murmured, flipping over onto his stomach to do some push-ups.

You averted your eyes. He was right; if you were rich, you would’ve probably chosen the latter option too.

“I’ll choose to live forever when I get out of this goddamn cell. But for now, we’re sticking with knowing how I die,” The raven-haired man huffed out through each strenuous push-up. He’s been getting weaker and weaker by the day, living off of nothing but crispy bread and metallic water and the occasional measly slice of dry apple.

“You’re not getting out,” You scoffed. “We’re not getting out. Why do you keep saying that we will?”

Wooyoung falls flat onto his stomach, blowing his hair away from his eyes in frustration, “And why do you keep saying that we won’t? Do you really think we’re going to die here?”

Throwing your hands up into the air, mouth full and bread crumbs rimming your lips, you nodded vehemently, “Yes! Look around us, Wooyoung. How on Earth would you plan on getting out? I’ve been trying for forever before you came around. I’m still here.”

“Yeah, but that was back when I wasn’t here. Now I am.”

“That’s absolutely great, genius. But guess what? We’re still stuck here!”

Wooyoung scowled at your salty remark. He crawled closer to the bars looking down the hallway to make sure no guards were near.

Glancing back to you, he whisper-yelled, “I have a plan.”

“That’s a stupid plan,” You sneered, deadpanning.

The man across from you rolled his eyes, “It’s the only one we’ve got.”

“You do know they’ll find out eventually, right? We can’t just go back to our normal lives.”

“Then let’s run away.” His gaze bore into you as you felt yourself flush heavily. “You and me. We can sneak our way onto a fishing boat, sail off to someplace… not here.”

A shiver ran up your arms, gooseflesh prickling your skin, “Stop.” You mumbled. “Don’t get my hopes up.”

Wooyoung grasped the bars tightly, knuckles turning white, “Y/N, listen to me. We can do it. I swear, I’ll get you out of here.”

It was stupid, you knew it was. But you couldn’t help the small spark of hope flare in the middle of your chest, heart pumping just a tad quicker at his words. Hope was an intoxicating drug; you either get sucked into some sort of deluded fantasy, or live without the illusions of false happiness.

However, The words left you before you even had a chance to hesitate. “You promise?”

“I swear on my next slice of dried apple.” He said, eyes twinkling with excitement behind the shaggy, overgrown hair.

“Okay.” You breathed out, somewhat satisfied. The dull ache in your spine was ignored as you slumped against the stone wall, closing your eyes and imagining what outside was like. All you could recall about outside was how terrible it was. Of course, not as bad as being in here, but not much to look forward to.

Cracking an eye open, you glanced to Wooyoung, who had curled up into himself in the corner of his cell, slightly obscured by the shadows.

Life outside seemed better when you imagined yourself with Wooyoung.

“Remember the plan?”

Wooyoung snorted, rolling his eyes, “How many times have you asked me that now?”

You scowled, “Just making sure you won’t mess anything up. Can you really guarantee you’re strong enough to knock him out?”

Biting down on his lip, he shrugged in a nonchalant manner, “I’ll try my best. And if that’s not enough, well… it was nice meeting you.”

The two of you waited in tense silence for a couple minutes, the expected thudding of boots coming down to give the two of you your meals for the day. The familiar grey eyes of the guard swept over the two of you, bending down your cell first to shove the tray through the narrow slot like he had hundreds of times before.

Then, he turned to Wooyoung.

“What’s on the menu today, sir?”

Stormy eyes narrowed, the guard’s nose wrinkled in distaste, “Th’ same shit you eat every day.” His gravelly voice rumbled, clearly not used to prisoners being able to talk, much less form coherent sentences. “It’s what criminals like you deserve.”

A gasp of mock-offense left Wooyoung in the most dramatic manner possible, “Why, if stopping a rapist from raping is worse than being a killer and killing, then I must be the worst criminal alive.”

“You better shut your mouth before I get half the mind to carve your tongue out for you.” The guard spat, nearing closer towards the bars menacingly, one hand on the hilt of his sword. He wasn’t below leaving a prisoner bleeding and tongueless.

Wooyoung did nothing but raise an eyebrow, “Oh, come now! I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of kills. Especially when you swore an oath to protect a murderous king!”

Your eyes widened slightly; you had no idea he would go as far as to claim treason.

The guard, however, cackled the ugliest laugh you’d ever heard. “You seem really not to like your tongue, boy. Only, for that comment, they’ll be taking your head along with it.”

It all happened so quickly, you wouldn’t even have the time to scream if you wanted to.

Just as the guard leaned closer tauntingly, nose almost brushing against the rusty metal bars, Wooyoung grabbed the front of the guard’s steel collar, yanking him forward into the metal columns with all of his might.

A sickening crack echoed across the stone.

It happened again, and again, and three more times after that. Wooyoung was panting, eyes wild.

“Is he dead?” You craned your neck to try to get a good look, but it was too dark to make out much of anything.

“No. He’ll wake up with a nasty concussion in a couple hours, give or take.”

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” You asked, heart pounding far too loudly in your ribcage. The faint sound of jingling almost had you bursting into tears of joy. He had the keys.

A small, non-committal hum emitted from Wooyoung’s cell. “You learn from dreaming about all the different ways you could’ve done that to the crown prince. And thankfully, I got the chance.” Suddenly, Wooyoung appeared in front of your cell, a ring of small keys hanging from his pointer finger, the widest grin spread across his face. “Told you I’d get you out, didn’t I?”

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babysizedfics · 4 years

Note

hihi im back with another ask i send a lot of these now huh. anyway!! what would they all dress up as for halloween/how do they celebrate halloween when vee and ro are little compared to when they are big? do nana janus and chaotic cousin remus also join in? im super excited 'cause its halloween now and also i remembered my second ask from last night so m gonna send that now! 🐝

bee anon i know its been literal weeks since you sent this but i have been thinking about it loads and rlly hope that its worth the wait!!

i think this might be my longest headcanon post yet!

Halloween headcanon for the family

the timeline of labd took place in summer of this year so this halloween is their first one as a little family! patton was eager to suggest to the others that they make it a family halloween party where both boys are little and they can have some more childish fun!

virgil is nervous about it, he really loves halloween but he is easily frightened by horror and jumpscares and its a lot worse when hes regressed. and even though he trusts his family a ton hes worried they'll accidentally put on a scary movie or have spooky decorations that will scare baby him, so he's worried he will ruin the party by being a crybaby

however patton and roman are both so so so excited about having a child friendly halloween party and logan has been researching family halloween activities that are toddler friendly and vee is also a bit excited despite his anxiety so they all agree to it !!

costumes:

originally they all wanted to have a family group costume theme!! but roman and vee's interests are so different when they're little

whatever roman suggested was either too scary or it was from a show that was too old for baby vee

and any of pattons suggestions that baby vee liked roman complained of them being too babyish or simple

so instead they decide each little will go as a matching costume with one of the CGs! so everyone gets to match with someone and the littles arent upset

Logan and Vee go as rilakkuma (big brown bear) and korilakkuma (littol white bear) respectively

their costumes are basically just onesies they got from online, just standard onesie but with bear tail and bear ears on the hood and the tummy patch!

As a surprise though roman sews vee a pair of matching mittens for his costume! theyre fluffy on the inside and theyre white and have pink toe beans sewed on!! so they're like paws! and roman made them detachable so vee can have them attached to the onesie but can also wear the mittens without it

SIDE NOTE: this concept post is about how vee loves the mittens so much he starts wearing them a lot of the time when he's lil!

Roman and Patton go as Kuzco and Pacha

roman makes both of their costumes from scratch!! even fake jewellery for kuzco!! he's REALLY proud of himself and so is everyone else!!

quick link to the posts for what their pumpkins look like and the shenanigans that ensued when they carved them!

During the set-up:

during the day patton and roman bake sugar cookies! and roman does a great job decorating them like pumpkins and black cats! theyre really cute baby friendly designs

meanwhile logan and baby vee decorate the house! logan sticks up paper pumpkin faces and bats while vee sits on the floor in a little play area rattling his giraffe rattle and logan is like talking to him "where should i put this pumpkin sweetheart?" and vee just babbles cluelessly and sucks the ear of the giraffe and logan is like "what a marvellous idea" and hangs the pumpkin exactly where he planned

also they make tissue ghosts!

basically vee's job is to scrunch up a tissue into a ball! so logan gives him a tissue and shows him how to scrunch it and vee does a littol scrunch and giggles and logan takes it (scrunches it a bit more into a ball) and covers it in another tissue and rubber band! then he asks the baby if this ghost should be happy or sad (vee ALWAYS says happy) and logan draws happy little face on it!

when they have enough logan hangs them from the ceiling fan!! and he turns the fan on slow and the ghosts float around slowly and he goes 'vee look at that!'

and baby vee on the carpet is staring at them and then he whines and holds his arms up to mama - he wants to be picked up

lo was concerned that baby found the ghosts scary but!! vee giggles and reaches up to the ghosts and he bats them! like a little kitten! he loves it because its like a baby mobile!!

During the actual party:

lots of fun! logan cut out pumpkin shapes out of orange craft paper earlier and the boys get to draw faces on them!! and then they get blu tacked up on the walls!

and they nibble their cookies of course! very nummy well done roman and patton

but while ro is busy drawing and while vee is busy suckling his cookie and cuddling papa lo sneaks off to set up the main event...

trick or treat scavenger hunt:

there are bags of candy and little party favours (like little badges and bubbles and stuff) hidden around the house!

patton suddenly pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket and gasps! then he announces that the boys got an invitation to go trick or treating around the house by some special guests! at this vee gets a bit nervous and buries his face in papa's shoulder but patton rocks him and roman is really excited!!

so patton hands the invitation to roman and its a riddle! roman has to figure out which room the riddle wants them to go to! roman is a very clever little boy, just ask his mom and dad, so he figures it out and leads them to the dining room! roman runs ahead and paatton carries baby vee on his hip

and in the dining room is logan - but he's not really supposed to be logan - he is still wearing his bear onesie but also now is wearing a big black blanket around his shoulders (its meant to be a cape) and has those really cheap uncomfortable plastic vampire fangs

'welcah to i cashel' he lisps

roman giggles because its very silly and he LOVES silly, especially mom being silly

but baby vee grips his papa tighter. he doesnt know why mama is talking weird or why his mouth looks different and pointy but it scares him and he starts whimpering

papa bounces him a little and whispers that its just mama being silly

logan hates to see ve scared of him so he tries to rectify it 'ish ohay bee ish okay wook ish mama!'

vee looks over because papa and his brother are giggling so it cant be that scary right?

but as logan tries to talk again the teeth fall straight out his mouth with a trail of drool and roman bursts out laughing and so does patton and so baby starts giggling too!! because its just mama!

anyway the game is to convince the vampire to let you have his candy. the vampire says he will only give them the treats if they can name all of the characters in peppa pig

and they do it!! vee immediately bounces and squeaks 'pepepepepa!' and then roman names mummy pig and daddy pig and george and then they get treats AND another riddle!

logan sprints out of the room to shove the next costume on and get to the next room

then roman takes them to the laundry room where the wolf man (logan with dog ears made of socks) will only give them bubbles and the next riddle if they both pet his head VERY softly!

and then they find a mummy in the kitchen and have to unwrap him! roman tears off the toilet paper from logans body and hands it to vee and vee scrunches it up like he did earlier and holds a little bit to his chest and decides its his now - the mummy gives them more candy and another riddle!

the hunt goes on until they find mama in the living room lying on the couch - and he's asleep! (he's not really)

theres a note on his chest that says that mama is under a spell!! and he can only be waken up by a kisses from all his family!! roman giggles and goes first and kisses logans cheek really loudly and sloppy and logan winces in his "sleep" at the wetnes on his cheek and roman thinks its funny

vee is really nervous that mama is under a spell :( so papa says he will show vee how to wake mama up. and patton leans down to kiss logan - logan's eyes open when he's just above him and leans up to meet him in a quick soft kiss on the lips

then its baby vee's turn and he wriggles in papa's arms so patton puts him down onto logan's lap on the couch and vee does his signature baby kiss - he leans forward, gently presses his forehead against his mamas and whispers 'mwah' behind his paci!

and then logan wakes up and says 'oh you saved me!!' and wraps a smiley baby vee in a very tight cuddle!

and when logan gets up he says he is SO grateful to his boys for saving him that he's gonna give them presents!!

For being so creative and clever by solving all the riddles and finding ways to trick the monsters into giving them treats, roman gets a rainbow etch a sketch!

and for being such a brave baby and for being so gentle with the monsters and with mama, little vee gets a squishmallow bat who will always protect him and give him cuddles!

the rest of the night is pretty much jsut roman being really excited and proud of how well he did in leadinf his family to victory and he draws all of the events that happened on his new etch a sketch!

and baby vee is just so relieved that mama is back that he doesnt leave mama's lap and snuggles with his new squishy friend al evening! he falls aslee pretty quickly because it was a busy day for just a little baby!!

the end :3

#long post #little/big concepts #asks #🐝 anon #agere virgil #little virgil #agedre roman #little roman #cg patton #cg logan #sanders sides agere #ts agere

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mail-me-a-snail · 4 years

Text

House Keys

chase…oh chase i love you so but you’re in for it now. chase brody, the former bro average superstar, comes home for the first time in a year.

part 1 part 2 part 3 Even if Chase Brody had moved out the year prior, he still has the keys to his brothers’ house. He stands now on the crisp, green lawn and swings the key-chain around. He cards a hand through his hair and rubs his eyes—he doesn’t get much sleep these days. Three years before he moved into his brothers’ house, he was sleeping in the back of his car. He’s been conditioned to fall asleep on the hard leather of the car seat, not in his own bed. He didn’t have a bed those weeks. Stacy and him still don’t talk.

He shoots Marvin a text.

hey bro im outside. will come in with the keys. jackie okay? are you all okay? There’s no response. Chase shrugs and tucks his phone into the pocket of his jeans. He’s a little hurt, but it’s fine. It’s Chase’s first visit since he’s moved out. It’s exactly as he remembers it. The lawn is in immaculate condition, with the hedges trimmed neatly and flowers springing up all over the place—Jameson was always in charge of that. He has an eye for lawn care. He takes after Jack. The door and porch are dark mahogany, though it’s washed in orange now as the sun is starting to set. The house itself is painted an egg white. The tiles of the roof are black. Potted plants litter the porch, some new, some old, but all beautiful and trimmed to perfection. No doubt it’s Marvin’s work. The sidewalk he stands on is decorated with faded chalk drawings. Robbie. Of course. Chase is standing on his own face drawn in chalk. It’s a wonderful likeness and Chase can’t help but smile. Robbie even got the faded green in his hair. He steps off. He doesn’t want to ruin a masterpiece. The light in the wide upper story window—Henrik’s room—is off. The doctor’s probably getting his much needed and deserved forty winks. The only light on is in the living room. He takes a deep breath, the kind that pulls his shoulders up like he’s shrugging, and walks towards the door. Anxiety wriggles in his belly. He clutches the keys tightly in his hand—they bite into the skin and leave an impression with their teeth. He remembers the call with Marvin the night before. He had been in his apartment putting together some videos when his phone had rung. Marvin had explained everything to him; finding Jackie bleeding out in the city, teleporting him home, the surgeries…all of it. Jackie was okay, Marvin had assured him, and that he would heal. But the fact that it was…was you-know-who’s work… It hadn’t stop his hands from shaking as soon as he said goodbye and dropped the call nor did it let him breathe. His panic attacks were always bad, but he managed the one he had that night fine. And the one in the bathroom this morning. On the drive here, too. He doesn’t have everything under control yet. Being here again reminds him of all the times you-know-who had been there. He had been there, for Jack and Henrik. It went the same way; a phone call. A panic attack. The fear. Now it’s happening all over again. Why can’t he ever escape the demon? Why can’t any of them? Even a year after…he still looks over his shoulder and tosses and turns at night. When will he stop being afraid? The keys bite into his palm like his old dog had lovingly done. He misses him. Stacy had to take that away from him, too. The sting and the thought of Bulls-eye grounds Chase and he lets go, letting it hang by the key-chain instead. Deep breaths. He slides the key into the lock and turns. The door opens. Chase looks around as he steps into the hall. It’s just the same. The walls are orange. The umbrella stand to the right of the door filled with Marvin’s props, the coat hanger opposite, and the stairs upwards at the very front. To his immediate left is the closed door to Henrik’s makeshift clinic. To his right is the doorway to the living room. There’s a movie on, though Chase can’t identify it as the volume is set way down low. He doesn’t know where to go first as he stands awkwardly in the middle space. “Hello?” He says to the seemingly empty house. “Is anyone home? Marv? Schneep?” “Chase,” His heart skips a beat when he hears the raspy call from the living room, but he brightens when he recognizes the voice. “In here.” Chase has to stop himself from running into the living room. Brown couch, flat screen TV (playing Die Hard, of course), wide windows, and white curtains that blow softly. The coffee table has coffee mug rings on it and abandoned medical supplies like gauze, cotton balls, and antibiotics. Henrik’s neatly folded coat, too. Jackie sits on the couch in a black t-shirt with the brightly coloured graphic of a cartoon dog on a bicycle. He wears the flamingo shorts to accompany it. It’s the first time Chase has seen the hero out of his supersuit; it almost feels wrong. His hair is the neon green Chase remembers it to be. He’s wearing his mask. The only sign he’s been hurt at all are the bandages around his neck and forehead. He’s hardly watching the movie. He has a big smile on his face, the toothy kind of sunshine Chase missed so much. “Jackie,” he breathes. Chase wants to cry with relief. He settles with hugging Jackie as tightly as he can. “I missed you, Jackie,” he says, muffled as he buries his head into the hero’s chest. “I was so worried about you!” “O-ow, ow,” the other hacks out a laugh and winces, patting Chase’s back. “I missed you, too, bud, but…stab wound.” “Shit, right, sorry.” Chase lets go, albeit reluctantly. “Dude, how are you? It’s, I mean—I’ve never been stabbed before.” “I don’t recommend it,” Jackie grimaces. There’s humour in his voice but he also sounds exhausted. “You get here okay?” “Parked out front,” he says, “Came in with the keys. Still have ‘em.” He holds them up to confirm that. He drops them in his lap. “How’re you holding up?” “This thing—” Jackie pats his stomach, presumably where the wound is. “—is a bitch and a half of pain. The neck thing I can handle. It just hurts to talk.” He coughs. It sounds like shaking a dead bush. “Really hurts.” “Oh, I can do the talking, if you want.” “No, it’s okay, Chase. Marvin did something to me, I think, when I was out. Makes my mouth and throat taste like mint. Pretty soothing, actually. Besides, I haven’t seen you in forever! I want to talk.” How can he be so chipper even after he almost died? Chase doesn’t understand it. He really is a comic book superhero. Always getting back up again. “Aw, it hasn’t been that long,” Chase ducks his head, sheepish, but straightens right away. “Can I ask, though? What…what happened?” The silence is thick with tension. Chase bounces his leg, the sole of his sneaker squeaking against the hardwood floor, and pulls at the rubber bracelet around his right wrist under his hoodie sleeve. He picks at the multicoloured bandages on his fingers and arms. Jackie turns the TV off just as John McClain launches himself through a window. He turns to Chase. Their knees touch. “This is what I remember,” Jackie says, and begins. He had met Anti during one of his day patrols, but it wasn’t the song and dance number they usually did; it was in the back-alleys where no one could see them. Maybe that’s what Anti wanted. Maybe it wasn’t. “Anti had…had said something to me,” he mumbles, “that I’m not the hero I think I am. That all of what we do, this hero versus villain thing, is just a show. I-I don’t know why he’s been pretending this long, or…or what he hopes to gain, but…” Chase watches him closely. Jackie stops, shakes his head, and moves on. That’s how the hero has always been. Hit a wall? Just go around. Forget about the wall and keep going. He remembers the fight—and the pinning stab through the gut. The words Anti whispered into his ear. Chase is trembling with raw anger as he sees the large dark bruise marks wrapped around Jackie’s neck where Anti’s hands had been. “But after that,” he growls in frustration, “I can’t remember anything else. By my wound here, I can guess what finished me off.” He taps his neck. “Everything else is beyond me.” “Fuck him” Chase breathes, voice quivering with fury, “You’re a hero to me, to everyone. To Jack.” Jackie flinches when he hears those words. “I don’t have any powers,” Jackie mutters. “What? Yeah, you do! That—that super strength of yours!” “Anti can manipulate objects,” Jackie shoots back, “Time and space, just like Marvin can. How do I know he hasn’t been doing it for me this whole time?” “I…I don’t know.” The anger evaporates as quickly as it came. “I-I don’t want to talk about this.” Jackie throws his hands up. “Please, Chase, let’s…let’s talk about you, okay? I want to hear about where you’ve been—what you’ve done.” Chase bites his lip, trying to find a way to stop the subject from changing. The one frustrating thing about superheroes? They build walls around them, shutting the people they love out hoping to save them from whatever inner turmoil they’re wrangling with. …Chase isn’t stupid or in denial. Even he can admit the similarities between them. But that’s just it. Chase knows he does it—Jackie doesn’t. He’d rather not push further and get into an argument, spoiling the whole visit, so Chase drops it. It’ll sit in the back of his mind, though. He tells Jackie about the new apartment; it’s spacious and less of a dump than the last one. Modest kitchen, shower instead of a tub. “I miss the tub here,” he says forlornly, gesturing to the stairs. “And my little rubber ducky. Shower’s okay, though.” He earns Jackie’s laugh. The apartment is far into the city, maybe ten blocks away from the alley Marvin had found Jackie in, and just across a coffee shop. Having cleaner, more colorful walls than ugly white granite that popcorned helps a lot to take his mind off more…painful things. He hung up posters, bought a flatscreen, had a whole new gaming rig up for himself—he’s doing okay for himself, he thinks. The therapy, the talking, has brought him out of the hole he was in three years before. He tells him about new friends. Baristas at the coffee shop who’ve recognized him as a regular. YouTube is more fun than anything for him right now. The Bro Average brand was dissolved, but he couldn’t care less. It had been time for a fresh start. His channel is up and running and he’s been invited to panels, talks, and conventions. Some people from AA said they had watched his videos. He tells Jackie about how good it is to just. Work. To produce content for others to consume, to make people happy, but not at the cost of his own happiness. He notices he’s rambling when Jackie says nothing and keeps beaming at him. He falters and lets his words trail off into silence. “What?” Chase says. “I’m so proud of you,” Jackie replies, and the pride is trembling in his voice. “Chase, you’ve gotten so far without us. You’ve got a job, a new house—you’re practically shining!” “You’re…you’re proud of me? You mean it?” Chase feels himself smile, too. “Yes. I’m proud.” Jackie puts a hand on his shoulder. “You’re my bro. You’re the bravest damn person I know and you’ve come out of this so strong, so…it’s…Jack would be proud too.” Chase understands why he starts crying. That’s all he ever wanted. To hear those words come out of Jackie’s mouth. It means he’s done it. He’s gotten better. Maybe not recovered fully, not just yet, but better. Even in his joy, he hates himself for crying because whenever he cries he bawls like a big baby. He buries his face into Jackie’s chest, shoulders shaking. He’s staring at the cartoon dog through blurry, teary eyes. The dog says, in a neon bubble, “RADICAL!” The other rubs his back in soothing circles. “That’s it, buddy,” Jackie whispers, “I’ve got you, bro.” Chase swallows thickly, sniffles, and wipes his face with the back of his hand. Jackie hands him a tissue and he blows. His eyes are stuffy. He looks up into Jackie’s eyes, milky white, hidden behind the film in the mask, but he can tell they’re full of soft, unspoken love. The hero holds his cheek. “Chase Brody Mcloughlin,” Jackie declares, “I, your loving bro, will never stop being proud of you. Don’t forget that.” “Thanks, Jackie,” he sniffs, wiping his eyes. “Thank you. It’s…i-it’s nice to hear that what I’m doing is finally right.” “We’re all proud of you.” Jackie’s hand drops but gives Chase’s shoulder one last firm pat. “S-speaking of,” Chase clears his throat. “Speaking of…where is everyone?” Jackie blanks. “Uh,” he says, unsure. “Good question, actually! No idea. I woke up, like, ten minutes before you came in. I kind of assumed Henrik went to work, and who knows where Marvin is at any given time? JJ and Robbie are out on vacation or something. It’s just Henrik, Marvin, and I.” “Huh,” Chase frowns and stands. “You wait here, Jackie. Henrik can’t have gone to work; he’d never leave you here alone.” “Marvin would be watching over me!” He argues. “This is Marvin we’re talking about!” He shoots back as he leaves the room. He considers going upstairs but stops before he can do it. He notices, to his surprise, that across the hall the clinic’s lights are on. How did he not notice that coming in? The harsh white fluorescents bounce off the tiles and under the door. Chase knocks. “Doc? Marv?” He says, “Yoo-hoo. Anyone in there?” Of course, unsettling silence follows. Great. Chase has played enough horror games to know that whatever’s on the other side is bad. He flinches as glass shatters behind the door. A shadow moves under the door. “Henrik?” “Schiesse!” comes a muffled curse to answer. Angry German swearing? Yeah. That’s Henrik. “What the hell was that?!” Jackie says from the couch, halfway to standing. Chase notices he’s wobbling like a newborn deer. “Jackie, get back on the couch,” Chase scolds the hero, “You’re in no condition to walk!” He turns back to the door. “Doc, I’m coming in.” He takes a deep breath, grips the doorknob, and turns. What he finds on the other side isn’t horrible, so he releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Henrik, hair messy and eye bags seemingly darker, clutching his head, is kneeling among shattered glass. From the way the metal table beside the hospital bed is on its side, Chase surmises that Henrik knocked it and the beakers that were on it to the ground when he tried to stand. “Doc!” He exclaims, rushing over to Henrik. He takes the doctor by the arm, helping him up, and looping the arm around his shoulders. “Danke,” Henrik grumbles, eyes still squeezed shut. “Chase, is that you?” “A-are you blind, Henrik?” Panic momentarily flares up in him. “Oh, jeez, I can get something for your eyes. Maybe ice—” “No,” Henrik sighs, but in the most affectionate way possible. He opens his eyes halfway, tired grey-blues looking up at him. “Chase, relax. I’m not blind. It’s these damn fluorescents—they could make me go blind. I don’t know why I thought they were a good idea. This nausea…it’s like someone took a hammer to my skull. Might as well have… I see enough of those lights in the hospital. Is it any wonder I wear glasses…” Henrik reaches into his pocket for something. He swears again as he brings out the bent and cracked frames of his glasses. “Oh, that is just great,” he hisses under his breath, “They must’ve gotten smashed in the fight.” “T…the what?” This is plenty strange already, but of course, he just has to notice only now that Marvin is crumpled in a desk chair, long, flowy hair messy and tangled, falling behind him as his head leans back, showing his neck. “Oh my God—Marvin!” “He’s okay,” Henrik straightens, though he’s still too weak to stand. Chase helps him into another chair. The doctor sits down with a sigh of relief, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. “What the hell happened here?” Chase gestures vaguely to the entire room. “To Marvin? Actually, to you? Was it…was it you-know-who?” “Anti,” the doctor spits. Chase winces at the name. “It’s not right to fear his name. He and I had an…encounter last night. I thought I was going to die.” He briefly touches his neck. Chase sees all the scars crisscrossed there; it’s why the doctor wears turtlenecks to work. He’s always been insecure about them. “I thought it was all over but…but I woke up here. My head hurts like a bitch but I’ve got no other wounds. My neck, my concussion—they’re healed, like they were never there. "So, I have reason to believe,” he continues, “Marvin used the full extent of his magic to save me. It’s probably why he’s passed out.” “He’s always been shit at restoration magic,” Chase jokes, but turns serious right away. “Jesus, doc. Are you really okay? Why the fuck did you-know-wh—I mean,—A…Anti go after you?” “Teach me a lesson? Finish me off?” Henrik raises his shoulder in a shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine. God, I’m sorry, Chase, that this is the scene you’ve returned to. You’ve had enough of this…this Anti business, and now we’re dragging you back into it. Forgive me.” “No, doc, don’t say that,” Chase waves him off, “it’s not your fault. Besides, the guy’s messing with my brothers. That’s not gonna fly with me.” His voice shakes. He knows how unconvincing his moxie is. He swallows the stone in his throat and turns away before Henrik can call him out on it. The man crosses the room and takes a trauma blanket from the cabinet—he practically knows the clinic as well as Henrik does—and drapes it over Marvin. The magician barely stirs. He’s completely out. “CHASE? IS EVERYONE OKAY?” Jackie shouts from the living room. Chase startles and nearly knocks some important doodad over. Henrik’s blue eyes crackle to life at the sound of the hero’s voice. “He’s okay,” he says more to himself than Chase, “Oh, God, he’s okay.” To Chase, he says, “Chase, help me up—I must see Jackie.” “But what about Marv?” “He’ll need rest. Neither of us are strong enough to move him upstairs. Please, Chase, let’s go.” Henrik is almost begging. The tone unnerves and stirs Chase into action. He helps the doctor, slowly and surely, into the living room. “Henrik?” Jackie breaths, “What happened to you? Why are you limping? Is Marvin o—” Henrik launches himself from Chase’s arms and onto Jackie, nearly tackling the hero into the sofa. Jackie grunts in pain. “You idiot,” Henrik growls, though with utmost love. “You had me so worried! You could’ve died.” He hugs Jackie tight, despite his weak state. “Don’t ever do that again.” “What, get stabbed?” When Henrik glares up at him, he sobers. “Okay, okay. I won’t. I promise. Chase, where’s Marvin?” “Getting some rest,” Chase explains, “He used a whole bunch of his magic to heal Henrik. A-Anti attacked the doc last night.” “He…what?” Jackie’s tone is dangerously quiet. His shoulders are tense—he looks like an apex predator. It takes everything in Chase not to back away. “Calm yourself,” Henrik cautions, “I’m okay now. Marvin made sure of it. It is true; I had a fight with Anti and…I did not emerge the victor. But it’s alright. I’m alright.” Jackie deflates and hugs Henrik back. “I’m glad you’re okay, doc.” “You too, Jackie.” Chase bites his lip and leaves the room. He knows what he said about Anti, that he’d be ready to fight the demon again, given the chance. It’s one big lie, because he is fucking terrified of Anti, terrified of the fact that this is all very real, and that it had gotten all too real very fast. He wants to run away in that stupid little way of his, where he drives and drives until he can’t or locks himself up in his room, anywhere where Anti can’t reach him. He’s managed not to see the demon for a full year. He can’t do this. He can’t. Not again. Not again. – Chase goes up to his room and finds the hatch to the roof still unlocked. He goes out and sits there, on the uncomfortable tiles, and stares up at the stars. It’s somewhere around 11:30, maybe midnight. He doesn’t check his phone. Henrik’s gone to sleep. Jackie had helped Chase move Marvin to the couch. The both of them weren’t nearly strong enough to bring him up to his bedroom. Some part of Chase is telling him to relapse. To drink. He snaps the rubber bracelet against his wrist over and over instead. It makes an angry red mark. It’s a distraction. It makes him all the more ashamed of how fast he crumbles in the face of all this. He’s hasn’t gotten better. Even in the darkness, he knows what the bracelet says. He’s seen it, worn it ever since the last time Anti had tormented him. Alcoholics Anonymous, in white letters against a garish neon green. His mouth tastes of smoke. His eyes are heavy. He is tired and deflated. His brothers nearly dead—what a sight to come home to. At least now, he’s here for them. He is so tired, he doesn’t turn around when the hatch opens and Jackie sits beside him. He’s changed out of that cartoon dog shirt—he sports one of Henrik’s striped shirts. “Hey,” Jackie greets him softly. Chase can see the hero watching the bracelet snap repeatedly against his wrist, which he doesn’t stop. “Hey.” Silence. Cicadas. Snap. Snap. Snap. “How long have you been sober?” Chase knows how much Jackie wants to say more, but he doesn’t. It’s a simple question. “A year.” An exact year from the last time Anti hurt him. He and Jackie match in scars now. Not on the neck, though. “Dude, that’s awesome. I’m proud of you.” The words are hollow. He doesn’t deserve them. Snap. Snap. Snap. “Chase?” Snap. Snap. Snap. “Welcome home.” Chase breaths shakily. His wrist stings. He cries, the fourth time that day, and bites back the urge to scream. “He’s g-going to f-find me again,” he says through quick breaths, “I’m n-next.” “Chase…” The man shakes his head furiously. “I-I’m not leaving. If he think he can fucking s-scare me,” Chase hiccups, “he’s w-wrong. I’m tired of r-running away. I’m going to fight.” Nothing, for a moment. Then, Jackie says, “It’s what Jack would’ve wanted.” Chase cries harder at that. He wants to toss his house keys off this damn roof and never see them again, because they remind him too much of the doors he’s just opened up. He’s not afraid. Shaking and sobbing, he is not afraid. He is furious.

#jacksepticeye #antisepticeye #chase brody #marvin the magnificent #jackieboy man #fanfiction #fic #nearly 4k words if you'll believe #jse #mine #my writing #alcoholism tw #alcohol ment #writersofjack

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oswednesday · 4 years

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yesterday i made curry and cleaned a bunch, nothing like harsh or chemically just tidy’d between online like chores, i really like making meals that arnt urgent and like going about the house in like a Gentle way it really feels like the place gets woken up with you? i hope to be able to do that more and like carry that with me or like in the future itll be working on projects while stuff is cooking like oh dreamy it feels like if i sit down to work work i might burn something ggdf like theres a different sense of urgency but omg so i just made food and fell asleep basically and heres the only part i really remember, this was like a recipe level intro to this dream im sharing fdgdf

i was in a class but it was set in my preschool caf which was also the areas like rec center, it has a stage like it does irl, its very like ethnic of it dsdsd and the class was like a reading literacy thing where we practiced reading out loud and stuff so maybe more of an acting class? but it was in the dream like englishy like a reading class, which omg my grade school did seperate reading from like grammar now that im thinking on it, omg anyway this old book collector had donated a bunch of books from like the 17th century cause whatever fantasy currency he had only accumilated based on Deeds he was still mega wealthy but you know like ooohh nooo my massive wealth is only huge how embrassing and i had volunteered to read them like hehehe he’ll fall in love with me, and there was like a class host? class rep? or whatever like an older student who sat in with the younger students to help as apart of like guidance thing older students are expected to do in catholic schools (or at least the ethnic ones fdgfd) and she was dressed goth and so was i and like a teacher was like which one of yous shawl is this and she was annoyed that my stuff would be confused with mine and as im typing this im like pretty sure this girl in my dreams was my actual like assigned older student like we got lunch buddies or w/e and they were suppose to like share food and talk with us and like eat with us as like a mixed age thing and she was sooo mean and didnt share anything i cant fully remember what she did or said but one of the other students like took me from her and had doubled up like hey get away from that person and i recall now feeling like oh no im doing something wrong i should go back to her, hmm much to think about

but omg then i left the class with people i knew from highschool who were both like not the core group and nice to hang out with casually and became like seperated from the group cause of group drama or just like different life directions with no self awareness of it, but in the dream it was just us, the latter one was trying to get validation from us and like teachers about becoming a military nurse and we were like noooo dont be a bootlicker and also how dangerous that is for your person and like the building we were in was like so so different ive never really been in a building like that before it was like the vague feeling of a school building in a scifi setting but with like darker lighting and blue tones like 90s scifi, it was time for gym and i didnt want to change so i just hiked my skirt up i was wearing like this extra long black one, some boy kid came in to harass us and i was looking for a decent place to get changed but it was all just like lockers like the alchoves of lockers was shaped like a square with a wall missing also hey isnt it wild that young children are expected to get naked in front of their peers and teachers and shamed when they use the bathrooms to change like there’s absolutely nothing else like that in society where thats acceptable and on top of that most american schools dont even have like gym uniforms so its like get judged twice in an american gym class

but omg okay like you have to leave the changing room to have access to the bathroom but the hall wasnt like a full hall it was like half walls with a space under it too, and the kid threw a red rubber ball in after me and it like bounced and rolled back into the changing room, the toliets were at the end of the hall, no doors but they were facing like the opposite direction so like your back would be too each other if both were occupied and like the “boys” one was super clean and new and the “girls” one was clogged unclean and junky and i was calling to the others to look at this, act of sexism and i group had gathered to be like hey wtf and then it clipped to like lunch

it was like a sushi bar from another planet like i recognized the food and what it should look like plated because in the dream ive like read about it, but how it was like to be assembled i had no idea like you were suppose to do it yourself and people, older students and teachers and other staff, sat around the serving station, i didnt know what to do and was afraid to cut into a group so i was doing my best to put the food together how i remembered from books but i knew i was doing something wrong, finally someone got up from a table that was nearer to a wall and had put me in front of a kitchen worker that was still doing stuff and they had an exchange in the planet’s like native language or like the language from whereever we were on the planet and i thought i was in trouble cause the exchange sounded urgent but then the worker was like if you dont know what youre doing it can be dangerous and then showed me how to crack and peel this eel like thing that had to be open up like a shrimp to be edible and like what parts to pull off and like you had to eat that first as the Start of the meal and the worker was like your homeroom teacher had boasted about a student who had read into the culture we were in and i was all like super embrassed like oh thats me haha!! ;’;’;’;’ and the worker was like i noticed, you did as good a job as you could on your own and then after i had gotten help at like all the food stations i went to go sit with like the First Years who were in a different eating area with like a pull down projector set up playing stuff like the gist of it was like visual lessons in the guise of like media like eduatainment from the native culture and i woke up before i could find a seat

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belliesandburps · 5 years

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(Commission) Venom’s Voraciousness

The following is a commissioned story from an anonymous user featuring everyone’s favorite voracious symbiote and his prey, everyone’s favorite webslinger. :P

The air was extra chilly that night; the kind of chill where the wind hitting one’s face was enough to make one shiver like a chatterbox. It was the worst kind of weather for webslinging. Unfortunately, a young webslinging superhero really didn’t have much say in the matter when being chased down by a much larger, brutish webslinging alien monster!

“Dude, Eddie, seriously, can’t we just call it a draw like usual?! It’s friggin’ freezing out tonight!” Spider-Man piped up as he swung from rooftop to rooftop, webs latching onto the sides of the buildings as he heard a vicious roar behind him.

The source? Venom, a monstrous beast with an inhuman bodybuilders frame, sporting claws, a jaw full of razor sharp fangs, and a tongue so slimy, it would make a Xenomorph grimace.

“Is that a ‘no’?” Spider-Man asked with a disappointed tone in his voice.

“It’s a ‘stop runnin’ so we can gnaw out yer brains,’ Parker! That’s what it is!!” Venom roared in that deep, beastly voice of his.

“Technically, I’m not running, I’m webslinging! BIG difference there, tall, dark and gruesome!”

Venom hissed as he webslang after his prey. “Ya know yer the ONLY one who finds yer jokes hilarious, don’tcha?”

Even as the two continued their pursuit, Spider-Man frowned beneath his mask. “Words hurt, y’know, Eddie...”

“Not as much as our fangs tearin’ through yer FLESH!” Venom roared, lunging with built-up momentum and catching Spider-Man mid air. The two struggled as they flew towards a nearby apartment rooftop. Venom’s jaws were wide-open while Spider-Man held them back from clamping over his head, grimacing with disgust as slimy saliva dripped all over his mask.

“Yeeeuck, dude, guys, one word...mouthwash,” Spider-Man grimaced before shooting a web-glob right in Venom’s mouth.

“GRRAAWGH?!” Venom hissed with surprise as the two crashed onto the rooftop. Spider-Man removed himself from the burly monster’s grasp while Venom gagged and spat, using his mighty jaws to destroy the webs holding his mouth in place. “Grrr, y’know those webs’uh yers taste like crap!”

“Really? Huh, never would’ve guessed,” Spider-Man droned as he got into a fighting stance. “Well, unless you back off, that’s ALL you’re gonna be tasting, big boy!”

Venom snorted with amusement and bared his claws readily and waved his long, slimy tongue out of his mouth like a rabid beast. “Heh, don’t count on it, nerd...”

Again, Spider-Man’s demeanor shifted at that as he said, “...Dude, grow up-”

“-MAKE US!” Venom roared, lunging into the air and swiping his claws down at Spider-Man, who just narrowly evaded the attack.

The beast snarled and shot a black tendril at Spider-Man, who backflipped out of the way and shot a series of webs right at Venom’s face, making the gooey monster roar as he reeled back, clutching his now-sticky face. Spider-Man used the window to web up a large chunk of debris from the crash the two caused, and with all his might, swung it right at Venom’s broad, muscular chest. Venom gasped breathlessly as he stumbled back, ripping the webs from his face just in time to block a flying kick from the webslinger, causing Spider-Man to bounce right off the solid wall of muscle that was Venom’s body.

The brute went for a backhand, which sent Spider-Man flying, before a tendril caught him by the chest in mid-air, SLAMMING him against the ground. Spider-Man grunted in pain, but shot a series of ‘web balls’ at Venom, making him stumble back as the balls blasted his torso like rubber shotgun bullets.

“Urgh, I thought ‘eating floor’ was just a saying from that one Batman movie,” Spider-Man gasped as he stumbled back to his feet.

“That the one with Bronson wearin’ that metal mask?” Venom couldn’t help but chime in, even during the fight. “Hah, he was awesome! Dunno why, but we really like that John Hardy dude...we feel a strange...connection to ‘im...” Of course, as Venom inadvertently broke the fourth wall, he was in the middle of building up a huge glob of symbiotic goo in his palm, which he shot right at Spider-Man, who just narrowly flipped out of the way.

“Yeah, TOM Hardy is alright,” Spider-Man conceded, webbing up more debris and swinging it around like a flail. “He’s no Tom Holland though...”

“Who...?” Venom remarked, using his clawed hands to catch the debris slammed into him by Spider-Man. He then proceeded to rip it right from the webs tethering it to Spider-Man’s grasp, then chucked it right at the wise cracking young hero, who once again had to jump out of the way, but wasn’t fast enough to evade a full-on shoulder-check from Venom, who came charging at him like a slimy linebacker.

Spider-Man flew several feet backwards, tumbling onto his back while Venom charged after him.

“Ya know, we always enjoy these lil chats with’cha, Spidey, usually our prey’s too busy screamin’ to try’n have some back-n-forth banter,” Venom remarked, swinging his fists high into the air before ground-pounding where Spider-Man’s head was. The young webslinger just narrowly rolled out of the way, then double-heel kicked Venom right in the gut. Venom gasped as he stumbled back, clutching his muscular stomach in pain before Spider-Man flipped back to his feet.

“Rgh, well, I aim to please, ol’ buddy,” Spider-Man remarked, shooting his webs at Venom, who ducked out of the way, but didn’t notice the toolbox Spider-Man’s webs attached themselves to before SLAMMING into the back of Venom’s head. The beast cried out in pain, stumbling forward just in time to stumble right into Spider-Man’s fist, which decked Venom under his jaw in a mighty uppercut. As Venom crashed onto his back, Spider-Man winced in pain and shook his fist. “Mph, besides, who else has the kinda chemistry we have?”

Snarling angrily, Venom pushed himself up to his feet and took a swing at Spider-Man, who ducked and delivered a good few punches right into Venom’s sides, before flip kicking the beast in the face, making him stumble back again. But as Spider-Man ran in for a flying haymaker, Venom’s tendrils caught him mid-air and SLAMMED him as hard as he could against the ground. Spider-Man gasped breathlessly, before Venom hoisted him up from the ground, and SLAMMED him right back down again...and again...and again...

After a few gnarly slams, Venom’s tendrils released Spider-Man, causing the battered and beaten young webslinger to stumble onto the ground, sprawled and groaning in pain. “...Urgh...th-that was...cheap...”

Venom’s foot proceeded to press down on Spider-Man’s chest as he leaned down, grinning wickedly. “Who said we fought fair?” Venom teased, his clawed toes digging into the spider insignia across Spider-Man’s chest, tearing through the fabric as he asserted his dominance over his foe. “And now that we’ve gotcha beat...it’s time fer our victory meal...”

Venom released his foot from Spider-Man’s chest and snatched him up by the throat, hoisting him up with one arm. He looked his prey over, grinning a fang-filled grin as he opened his mouth and let his long, slimy tongue lather all across Spider-Man’s masked face. Spider-Man spat in disgust as the tongue slithered all across him, caking his suit in disgusting green slime, which smelled almost as bad as Venom’s stinking, humid breath.

And just to drive his point home, Venom pressed the battered young man’s head right against his muscular stomach. Spider-Man could hear as Venom’s belly grumbled ominously and borderline impatiently. “Y’hear that, Parker? That’s the sound’uh yer doom glorpin’ away like you’ll be doin’ soon enough...” Venom teased, grinding Spider-Man’s head forcefully against his rock-hard abs.

Spider-Man held up a finger wearily and in spite of the situation, said, “...Pretty sure ‘glorp’ isn’t a word, Eddie. Seriously, weren’t we in the same study group back in college? How are you THIS dumb...?”

Venom’s expression became completely deadpanned in that moment.

“...We ain’t gonna miss you, Parker...” Venom droned. Then, without another word, Venom hoisted Spider-Man nice and high...then proceeded to unhinge his jaws.

The eyes of Spider-Man’s mask went wide as saucers as they stared down the fang-filled abyss that was Venom’s gaping maw. Suddenly, without warning, Spider-Man was shoved head first into that mouth. Spider-Man gasped as his body was forcefully shoveled into Venom’s maw. That long, disgusting, slimy tongue of his wrapped itself all around Spider-Man’s body, practically tugging him further and further into the dank abyss of Venom’s maw.

“Dude, guys, seriously, you NEED to brush these fangs more!” Spider-Man’s muffled voice sounded off from inside of Venom’s gaping mouth. The beast would be rolling his eyes if they weren’t white slits. Instead, he greedily shoved more and more of the young hero down his gullet.

Spider-Man spat with disgust as the tongue once again caked his mask with slime, and slithered all across his toned, slender body. He could feel Venom rumbling pleasantly, clearly delighted by the flavor of his arch nemesis, and eager for more. He should’ve known today was going to be one of ‘those’ days...

Venom dipped his head back as only Spider-Man’s legs dangled free from his slimy lips. Spider-Man, meanwhile, had slipped further and further to the back of Venom’s maw, now pushing down Venom’s throat. It was a tight, rippling fit, with Venom’s throat muscles simultaneously slimy from the symbiotic goo, but also feeling fleshy and rubbery at the same time, much like an organic throat.

“Ugh, as if I needed another lesson on anatomy...Symbiote Edition...” Spider-Man grumbled unpleasantly to himself before...

*GLLLLUUUUUUUUUULLLK!!*

A deep squelching sound rumbled all around Spider-Man as Venom gulped heartily. Spider-Man grunted as he found himself getting processed further and further down Venom’s throat. Due to Venom’s gooey form, his throat was able to expand and accommodate Spider-Man’s body, but it was still an immensely tight-fit.

Outside, Venom’s throat bulged immensely, almost like that of a pelican swallowing a fish whole. The beasts’ eyeslits narrowed with euphoric delight as his clawed fingers pressed right up against the throat. He felt Spider-Man squirm frantically and helplessly in his throat and loved every second of it. Slimy drool dribbled down from the corners of Venom’s jaws as he gulped again, the sound rich and wet. The form of that large bulge in Venom’s throat ohhh so slowly pushed down, nearing his broad chest, claws following all the while.

Spider-Man pushed past the esophagus...a rather tight fit, then steadily began to enter Venom’s belly. That rock-hard six pack of Venom’s steadily began to push out the more Spider-Man filled him up.

Then, with one last especially heart gulp...

*GLLLLLLLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUULLLLLOOOOOLLLP!!!*

The red and blue superhero was swallowed whole. Spider-Man unceremoniously plopped into the belly of the beast, which stretched out enough to accommodate Spider-Man’s whole frame, and left Venom looking like he had swallowed a beanbag chair. Venom’s immensely swollen stomach bounced and sloshed intensely with Spider-Man’s getting deposited within as the beast himself huffed breathlessly, salivating all the while.

Then, almost immediately after, Venom’s face tightened with discomfort, before he threw his head back and expelled a loud, bellowing belch, one loud enough to echo across the night sky and rumble his gut for a good few seconds straight. Inside, Spider-Man yelped comically as the high-pitched sound left his ears ringing. “Jeez! I thought you didn’t do well with loud noises, Eddie!!” Spider-Man complained, clamping his ears shut with his palms.

But when it ended, Venom just sighed with immense relief and gave his gut a couple of hearty pats. Each pat caused his bloated belly to jostle beneath his palm, and caused Spider-Man’s confines to quiver aggressively. “Guuuuuh,” Venom groaned pleasantly and in a weary tone, running his clawed hands all across his spider-filled belly. “Man, we ain’t had a meal this fillin’ since fer-frickin’-EVER...” Venom remarked, gripping his heavy underbelly with both hands and hoisting his spider-filled gut high before dropping it, causing his big round sphere of a gut to bounce intensely, and forcing Spider-Man to take a tumble against the stomach walls, causing a few smaller bulges to emit from the surface of his belly as Spider-Man hit the front of Venom’s belly from the drop.

The bounce had also dislodged a pressure pocket from Venom’s belly, making the beast grimace as his gut gurgled. Then, a moment later...

“HOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUURRRRRUUUUUUUUP!!!!”

Another huge belch erupted past Venom’s lips for a good few seconds straight, causing several flicks of slimy saliva to go flying out of his maw. When it ended, Venom smacked his chops and gave his gut a couple of proud pats of satisfaction. “Heh, s’cuse us...” Venom teased.

Spider-Man scowled beneath his mask, pulling his face from the stomach walls to a slightly more manageable sitting position and said, “For the record, I’m not a meal, you jerk!” And to emphasize his point, Spider-Man kicked the stomach walls, earning another large belch from Venom for his troubles. “God, you’re gross...”

Venom just snickered and sat down on his rump, spreading his legs apart and causing his belly to spill onto the ground. “Heh, sorry ‘bout that, Parker...must’uh been somethin’ we ate,” Venom teased, slapping his belly extra hard for emphasis, causing Spider-Man to yelp as Venom’s meaty palm all but slapped hin against the face.

The alien beast sighed contently as he leaned his back against a nearby vent shaft and caressed his big round belly pleasantly. “Mmmm, ssssoooo full,” Venom moaned, claws digging into his gooey flesh, savoring the feeling of his heroic meal squirming within him. “Won’t be long now, lil Spider...my other always wanted t’be a part of ya...now, YOU get to be a part of HIM...funny the way that works, ain’t it...”

“Yeah, absolute hoot,” Spider-Man remarked, kicking the stomach walls as hard as he could.

Outside, Venom’s eyeslits went wide as a sizeable bulge emitted from his already bulging gut, the imprint of Spider-Man’s heels poking out, before snapping back into place and causing Venom’s entire belly to jostle and slosh intensely.

“BWWUUUUUURRRREEERRAAAAAAUUUUUURRRRP!!!!”

Another deep, lengthy belch erupted from the monster, causing him to gasp in discomfort as he clutched his belly with both hands.

“Ey, cut that out, ya punk!” Venom hissed, before another kick worked up another sizeable burp, one that sounded lower and more guttural.

Venom sat up a bit, getting onto his knees as he gripped his gut firmly in an attempt to stabilize his stomach by constricting it so Spider-Man couldn’t thrash around so much. Unfortunately, one of the drawbacks to having such an expansive, gelatinous body was it was hard to maintain a steady grip, especially when his belly was as bloated as it was. Spider-Man continued thrashing and battering the stomach walls all around him. It caused Venom’s belly to bounce and slosh immensely, and left Venom burping uncontrollably, each one leaving his throat stinging more and more.

“BWAAAAAUUUUURRRROOOORRP!!!”

“BRREEEUUUUUURRRRRRP!!!!”

“Urgh, *HIC!* C’mon, Pete, can’tcha be a pal’n just-AAAAAUUUUUUURRRP-guh, digest in peace alreeeEEEEUUUUURRP!!” Venom attempted to speak, only to find himself interrupted by his gaseous eruptions.

“You wanted to eat me, you disgusting bag of slime? Well, careful what’cha wish for, ol’ buddy!!” Spider-Man barked as he hammered away mercilessly.

Belch after belch after roaring belch exploded from Venom’s lips. Fed up, the beast practically bellyflopped onto the concrete floor, forcing Spider-Man to be pinned between the hard concrete rooftop and Venom’s muscular mass, pressing forcefully against him.

“Ha! How d’ya like THAT, ParkuuuuurrrrUUUUURRRP!!!” Venom spat back, belching out the last part of his sentence from the pressure being applied to his belly. He aggressively and possessively slapped the side of his big, round dome and added, “That’s right...no makin’ THIS Symbiote sick...yer stayin’ in there ‘til we’re good’n done with’cha...”

Spider-Man yelped in pain. The feeling of being compressed and grounded against the concrete like this was unbearable, even for a superhero. At the rate Venom was going, it wouldn’t be long before things started breaking. Spider-Man needed to act fast. Unfortunately, strong was he was, Venom was infinitely stronger. He knew he couldn’t out-muscle the musclebound freak.

He’d need to outsmart him...

And that’s when he recalled Venom griping about the taste of Spider-Man’s artificial webs. Looking up, he saw the sphincter that connected from Venom’s stomach to his gullet and up his throat. His attempts to make Venom sick were failing because Venom just kept on burping his indigestion away. He’d need to make it ‘stick.’

But how could he use his webshooters when both hands were firmly planted against the floor to keep from getting crushed? He needed to act fast. After all, his arms were getting tired from holding himself in place.

So, he pressed his feet up against the stomach walls, arching his back a little to give himself more ‘give.’ Spider-Man, with all his might, heaved himself up using all fours. It was just enough to, much to Venom’s surprise, force the brute up from the ground. “Ey, what the hell...?!” Venom spat.

Then, without warning, pushed himself up as hard as he could, causing Venom’s whole body to jerk back. The beast stumbled backwards, landing flat on his back and causing his immense, sloshing dome to jolt upwards. “BUUUUUUURRRRRuuuuuuurrrrooooorrrp!!!! Urgh, dammit!” Venom gasped, grasping his gut after emitting another low, rumbling burp from the impact.

Spider-Man had his window. Immediately, he aimed his webshooters at the connecting ring that led to Venom’s stomach and fired as many webshots as he could at the sphincter. After a while of this, it was caked in thick, sticky globs of web, ensuring nothing could go in or out. And with the connecting tube blocked off, Spider-Man got to work, thrashing around in Venom’s belly all over again.

Venom’s eyes went wide as his gut bounced and jolted around aggressively. The beast groaned in pain as he grasped his gurgling gut, feeling it burble with immense, gastric distress. “Orrgh, our gut...” Venom groaned, lurching in a sickly manner. “...W-What’re ya doin’ in there, Parker...?!”

Spider-Man didn’t respond, he just kept on thrashing away, causing Venom’s indigestion and nausea to grow worse and worse.

Venom’s belly quivered aggressively as it groaned, burbled and churned like a barrel of unstable chemicals. An immense buildup of pressure was festering within Venom’s belly. Venom needed to burp, VERY badly. But his stomach was blocked off from his throat, and thus, the pressure accumulating in his gut had no way of escaping. All it could do was build up the more Spider-Man thrashed away.

It was getting so bad that Venom’s belly actually EXPANDED from the excess of pressure brewing and getting clogged from within.

“...Urrrgh, w-we don’t feel so good...” Venom groaned in pain, salivating nauseously as his belly quivered aggressively with pressure. He held his hands atop his expansive middle, feeling more and more sick as Spider-Man went on.

Then, with one final, mighty kick, Venom’s gut could take no more. The entire round, black surface quivered and shook dangerously, like an earthquake was rumbling forth. In fact, the whole rooftop quivered slightly in it’s wake.

Venom’s cheeks bulged out as he was clamped his mouth shut, as if about to vomit up his meal. Instead, the webs steadily un-tethered themselves from the force of the pressure within being stronger. Until finally, the pressure had room to expel, and the instant it did...

*bwwuuuuuuurrrrrblGGWWUUUUOOOOORRRRRRRBL!!!*

A deep, gastric bubbling emitted from Venom’s stomach, one that steadily rose up his gullet and throat, causing an actual bulge to rise up with it, until Venom’s cheeks puffed out. The beast clamped his mouth shut as best he could, but try as he might, he couldn’t hold it back...

“BRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOORRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRP!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Venom lurched forward, jaw gaping as widely as it did when he swallowed Spider-Man in the first place. And out from the belly of the beast expelled what HAD to be the single loudest, longest, most devastating belch ever uttered in New York City. It exploded with such ferocity that one would swear the entire apartment complex was quivering in its wake and startling all the tenants. A whopping fifteen seconds passed, and felt like an utter eternity as Venom’s burp just raged on and on and ON....all that pressure festering within his belly expelling at once in one record-shattering eructation...

And with it, much more than stomach gases came flying out of Venom’s gaping maw...

At the tail end of that lengthy expulsion of stomach gases, Venom’s stomach hitched. The beast lurched again, panting breathlessly as he stumbled onto all fours, clawing at the ground and salivating nauseously. He heaved and gagged a few times, then expelled ANOTHER colossal belch. This one, much wetter-sounding...and also bringing up with it, a young, slime covered hero, who, by the time nauseating belch had ended, spilled onto the ground, gasping breathlessly while Venom plopped lifelessly onto his back. His once again firm, muscular belly heaved in and out, up and down as Venom desperately tried and failed to catch his breath, tongue hanging out of the side of his maw as he did everything in his effort not to whimper in front of his expelled prey.

Both Spider-Man and Venom laid sprawled onto the ground, both panting like exhausted dogs for several seconds before Spider-Man finally broke the ice.

“.........Excuse you...”

Steadily, Spider-Man pushed himself up to his feet, staggering weakly, both from the ordeal of being in the belly of the beast AND from the beatdown he took during their fight.

“...Word to the wise, Eddie...next time ya got the munchies...stick with chocolate...this spider doesn’t go down quite so smoothly,” Spider-Man muttered, sniffing himself, then gagging. “...Urgh...all the detergent in the world won’t get that stink outta this suit...”

And with those last words, Spider-Man leaped off the rooftop and swung out of sight, leaving only Venom as he laid there, still utterly winded.

“....Urgh...sh-should we go after him?” Eddie finally spoke up internally, earning a groan of misery from Venom in response.

“...N-Nah...right now...the only thing I want in our belly is a gallon of Pepto.........and maybe tater tots...”

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winxwiki · 5 years

Conversation

english speaker motherfucker: 4kids good

me: TURN OUR WINX INTO A GIANT WALL! BOUNCE OFF OF US LIKE A RUBBER BALL!

english speaker, crying: it's so good..... im moved

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smuttybronde · 7 years

Note

could you write a smut for oh Heejun (knk) i don't have a preference on anything other than it being Heejun lol

Perfect Jump

Genre- Smut

Group- Knk

Member- Oh Heejun

Admin- Aussi

I’ve always enjoyed the smell of a basketball court. It was odd for me to like the scent; sweat, rubber, and floor polish, but for some reason I did. It made me want to run, want to exercise. I patiently sat on the bleachers waiting for Coach to come in, thinking over the events that brought me here.

I joined the basketball team two years ago, it was fun but not for me. Last year I decided to try volleyball instead, playing as the opposite hitter. It was fun but again didn’t feel like it fit me. I always had admired the spiker on the team. I admired the way she would leap up and hit the ball with perfect precision, how in tune she was with the setter. I envied it.

I worked hard all summer for the chance to try being a spiker and after much effort, I was selected for the position. Coach Oh said I just needed a little fine-tuning.

We had worked together for the past few weeks during practices to build up needed muscles. Yet even after all that work, my vertical jump wasn’t as high as it needed to be and he offered to help privately as well.

Coach Oh walked into the gym, smiling widely as he set down some papers, “You’re here already?” He asked, taking off his work shoes to put on sneakers. I nodded silently at him, standing up stretching my arms.

Coach Oh walked onto the court, me trailing after him, “Can you stand with your legs shoulder wide and arms at your side?” He asked and I complied. He looked over me for a moment, concentration furrowing his brows, “I can’t see your body well with all those clothes.“ He commented, causing me to flush slightly.

“You want me strip? So you could see more clearly of course.” I asked tentatively, looking down at my baggy shirt and basketball shorts.

“It would be nice so I could have a better look,” He said gently, trailing off, “but you don’t have to of course!” He assured. I took a deep sigh before pulling my shirt off, shorts following. I got back in position and cleared my throat, catching the attention of Coach Oh who was awkwardly looking at the ceiling.

He looked me over, eyes trailing over my sports bra, to my stomach, then past my boy-shorts, “Turn around.” He said, voice a bit pained. I turned around, feeling his hot gaze travel across my ass, “We’ll workout like this to show what definition you have.” I nodded at him, turning back to face him. He clapped his hands, “Okay then, let’s start out warm up!”

I began to do sprints across the court, sweat building and heartbeat increasing. The lack of clothes wasn’t embarrassing but a relief as time went on, my muscles warming wonderfully as my body heated. I came to a stop and looked at Coach Oh, the five minutes ending.

He nodded at me approvingly, “Today we’re not doing our normal dumbbell squats, we’re seeing how many shallow squats you can do a minute. It will be a good starting point to see how much stamina you have and how strong the muscles are. Sound good?” He asked, sitting down on one of the benches.

“Sounds fine.” I said before starting my squats.

Coach stopped me immediately, “You’re going to low for shallow squats, come over here.” he said, motioning for me to come closer, “Do them over me, when you hit my lap you come up.” he explained. I gulped before beginning the squats, turning around so he couldn’t see me blushing.

Coach Oh was very attractive for a teacher- or a person in general for that matter. Luckily, straining activities distracted me from the strong urge to jump his bones. Fucking my teacher wasn’t a good idea and it certainly was not a priority. But now it wasn’t quite as easy to ignore as I dropped my ass on his lap, feeling his thick cock through his pants even while flaccid. Arousal dripped through me, and I desperately hoped it didn’t soak through my underwear.

Each time I dropped down in his lap I felt him become harder and harder. As my legs began to get sore I moved to stop. I heard his voice, now breathy, “Keep going.” I ignored the sting and kept sinking down.

He began to kiss my shoulders when I hit the lowest part of the squat, each kiss landing on a different place. He released his dick from his shorts and boxers, letting it slide against my ass, making me moan at the felling of it; hot, thick, and heavy. Coach groaned loudly at the friction, his length dragging along the fabric of my boy shorts and leaving a trail of precum behind. His hands rested on my hips, keeping me on his lap.

His fingers edged at the line of my underwear, “Do you want me to fuck you? Sex is a great workout.”

“I’m not sure.” I said, panting. He was still a teacher no matter how attractive he was and I was aware that it was dangerous game even though I wanted nothing more than to play it. His hands moved away as soon as I voiced my doubts.

“If you don’t want to then you don’t have to. Let’s go back to the workout, im sorry for making you uncomfortable.” He said, beginning to redress.

“No!” I shouted, startling us both, “Like you said, it’s a good workout.” I continued sheepishly. He nodded, pulling me in for a deep kiss, lips hot and soft against mine, but gentle.

Coach on pulled away from my lips, pulling a bottle of lube out of his back pocket and spreading the thick substance on his fingers. He pulled my underwear to the side, slipping a finger in my heat. I whimpered, hips moving slightly so it pressed deeper inside. He curled the digit, stroking my walls.

I mewled as he added another finger, pumping it in slowly at first, “Coach!” the pressure of his fingers wasn’t enough.

“Call me Heejun.” He groaned, my moans making his erection twitch against my ass. I squirmed in his lap, pressing harder against his dick in return for the feeling of his fingers pistoning deliciously into me.

My orgasm slowly built up as he stroked the spongy tissue of my G-spot. Heejun’s fingers stroked it, curling into it perfectly. I let out another high pitched whimper before tightening around his digits, cum sliding down them slowly. Heejun tried to gather as much of my essence as possible and spread it so that it coated his hand.

The coach guided me to stand up on shaky legs so he could have better access to himself. He used the cum-covered hand to stroke his cock, making it slick. I stared at it, licking my lips in anticipation for how it would fill me. He gave me an expecting look. Picking up on his hint, I put my hand over his and dragging it down in firm strokes. I squeezed his hand slightly, putting more pressure on his throbbing member.

He soon couldn’t stand it, pulling his hand away. He pulled a condom out of one his pockets, rushing to put it on, “Why do you have lube and condoms in the pockets of your clothes, you’re a teacher.” I chuckled, out of breath from my orgasm.

“A man can dream. Besides it was rather that you liked me or my ass puts you in a trance when I walk by.” He said, smiling beautifully, “Do you want me to do this? Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, im sure.” I confirmed. Heejun pulled my underwear aside, lining his cock with my entrance and slowly pushing into me. I let out a gasp of pain, eyes fluttering shut as the feeling rushed over me, dull ache mixed with sparks of euphoria.

Heejun stroked my hair as we waited, murmuring sweet statements of encouragement. I rocked for a moment, partial savoring the feeling and partially waiting for his instructions, “Are you ready to do more squats, Baby?” I nodded, putting my legs on the ground and doing shallow squats onto his length. My legs wanted to buckle, shaking from the intense pleasure of being stretched perfectly. Heejun was whispering how many squats I did under his breath.

It was erotic, knowing how many times his cock plunged into me. It stirred my arousal further, making me slam down on him.

Pants and moans echoed through the gym, ringing loud through our ears. Heejun pushed my sports bra up so that my boobs were free for him. His thumbs brushed over my hardened nipples, “I’ve been wanting to touch these for a while, constantly teasing me by bouncing up and down during practices.”

He continued to toy with them, more pleasure rushing over me. I was slamming down on him so hard at this point that im sure both of us would be bruised. We didn’t mind at all, pleasure outweighing any other sense. We couldn’t feel pain or think rationally, the only thing we knew is that we both needed more. There was no such thing as too much, both of us wanting to remain attached. I wanted his thick cock to fill me every second of every day. I wanted to taste him on my tongue. Feel him on every inch of my skin, “You’re so hot!” I cried.

My legs gave out a few hundred squats later, falling on his lap but I continued to bounce on him, swiveling my hips so he pressed against all of my sweet spots. He groaned in my ear before grabbing my wrists, pulling them behind my back and slamming into me. The position gave him just the right access when he pushed into me to make me see stars. My body was boiling hot and I was screaming out, “You’re so beautiful. You wrap so perfectly around my cock, taking it like such a good girl.” He praised, thrusts rocking me forward, “Your pretty cunt just wants to cum doesn’t it? To milk me till im dry. You’re squeezing me like you do, Baby.” He hissed, bucking up more and more.

I whimpered in response, becoming increasingly sensitive by the second. Heejun licked the skin of my neck before nibbling on my ear. He moved at the speed of light for a few seconds making me cum, pussy clenching tightly on his cock. Heejun hissed before orgasming as well, his body shaking as streaks of white painted the condom.

“This was definitely one of the most productive training sessions i’ve ever had.” I panted.

“I think you’re right there, and hopefully this won’t be the last, all those squats are going to help your jumps significantly.” Heejun commented, smiling against my neck and laughing.

109 notes · View notes

ancientbooshartifacts · 5 years

Text

OUTRAGE: A Tony Harrison Adventure

Author: LuridLolly

Year: 2010

Rating: PG-13

Characters: Saboo/Tony Harrison, Nathan Barley, Pingu

Maybe it’s some kind of rubber hat with fringe, well lampshade—that’s a big Norwegian trendy this week, lampshades as hats. Or maybe it’s a bag, like a purse. It does looks like a ball sack. Must be called something ironic like “ball bag” or “testicle” or somethin’. Or maybe you just strap it onto your belt buckle. Yeah, like a big codpiece, a sort of “Look at my balls, you cunt monkey, yeah.” I could rig up some lights in it, flick ‘em on and off to show that I’m well into a dirty shag, ready to ruff up a muff. Yeah, it’d be like a nouveau-retro mating ritual, lights in a giant ball sack, drawin’ attention just like cavemen must’ve waved their junk at each other before they got it on, got their caveman fuck on. Well beast. Giant rubbery ball sack; it’ll be well fuckin’ Hiroshima. Tony Harrison woke up upside down with someone’s hand groping around his underside. It wasn’t the first time he’d woken up in a compromising after a night of having it large with the Board of Shaman; actually, if he didn’t wake up in some questionable situation, Tony privately counted the night as a failure. Once he’d woken up with pressed to Saboo’s naked bosom, the pair of them covered in cheese sauce—Tony hadn’t been able to eat nachos for a year after that. Then again, he’d met the (then future) Mrs. Tony Harrison when she’d mistaken him for a decorative pillow and sat on him. Why she thought there was a decorative pillow by the side of a toll road nesting on a pile of empty tequila bottles he had never understood, but then again, he didn’t love her for her brains. Waking up with a hand on his nethers after a night he couldn’t remember past the point when Kirk starting pouring drinks over pills instead of ice could either be a good or a bad thing—really, it was a toss-up. Tony was banking on it being good when he said, “Oooh, little to the left, that’s right.” When this was greeted by a scream, Tony knew he’d guessed wrong. Well, it’d been worth a shot. Whoever had been rummaging enthusiastically just a moment before dropped him to the ground. Tony hit his left lobe against the concrete, bounced once, and came to rest on his back “Aw, you fuckin’ idiot! That hurt! And it’s gonna bruise! I bruise like summer fruit, I do; I’m delicate, like a peach. What’ve you done? Mrs. H is gonna throw a strop when I get home, all black and blue ‘cause of your carelessness. She’s gonna accuse me of having gotten in with on of those sex clubs where women wearing bits of leather go at you with a paddle. I only did it the once, in the eighties. I’d had a bit of blow, a few wine coolers, told the paddle girl to go wild—but I learned my lesson.” Tony paused. “Except for the time I went back in ’93. But that was it.” Tony regarded his assailant as best he could from his recumbent position. The man was crouched against the opposite wall of the alley, and he had the stupid staring eyes of a startled pig. Tony like pigs—he felt a kinship with pigs as both he and pigs were pink, and both he and pigs had an appreciation for kaftans and cinnamon-scented candles. “Don’t just stare, you pineapple—help me up!” Tony called. “I’m not meant for the supine position—wrecks havoc on my back, it does.” Just then, there was a scream and the roar of a chainsaw. Tony slapped his tentacles over his ear holes. The man pulled out a lumpy yellow cell phone and hit a button, silencing the horrible noise. He answered the call with a nervous “Yeah?” still staring at Tony, eyes round with fear. “No, I mean, yeah, you fucking wanger muncher, how’s your ass crack?” he said with a little more gusto. Wanger muncher? Tony thought. Not great, but it’s not bad. The start of a good insult, surely, Tony mused. He’d have to propose the idea to Saboo, see if he could get the other shaman to help him think of something better. Or, more likely, he and Saboo would get into an argument half-way into a discussion on the merits of the term “wanger muncher” and Saboo would insult Tony with a much more creative term thought up on the spot.

“Listen, yeah, I’m about to be famous,” the man told his caller. “No, well, more famous. Like fuckin’ Churchill-famous. Yeah. Peace and fucking.” Tony’s back was really starting to hurt at this point. He rolled over onto his side, hoping to roll back again with enough momentum to lever himself upright. Tony rolled back and forth, feeling more and more nauseous as the half-dissolved pills sloshed around inside his third stomach-pouch. He didn’t even notice that the man was creeping toward him with his jacket held out like a net until it was too late and he was swaddled in the khaki windcheater and lifted from the ground. “THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!” Tony shouted, scratching at the windcheater for all he was worth. Tony struggled valiantly, but there’s not much a betentacled pink testicle, shaman or no, can do against nylon fabric. Tony sighed and surrendered to his unseemly kidnapping. Nylon swaddle was not one of Tony’s preferred modes of transport and the man’s bouncing jog combined with the melange of pills in his system made Tony want to spew. He was starting to doubt his initial judgement of the man—he was obviously not the respectful kaftan-and-candle-enthusiast Tony had assumed he would be from his pig-like eyes. The man clattered up some stairs. “Oh, alright, Nathan,” a shy voice greeted him. “Alright Pingu, you sad fuck! I’ve got a surprise for ya!” Tony was shaken out of his nylon cocoon and onto a table. He promptly vomited. Right into the lap of a skinny dark-haired bloke who looked like he was going to cry. “Holy dog shit, I wish I’d filmed that! Fuckin’ projectile, that was! Brilliant!” The pig-eyed man, Nathan, filmed the other man’s vomit-covered chest with his phone, moving his arm closer and farther away for a sloppy zoom effect. “You tit, stop swingin’ your arm or I’ll be ill again,” Tony moaned. Pingu dove under his desk, whimpering, “It talks, it talks!” Nathan turned to film Tony with a smirk. “This is fuckin’ wild. Fuck, a giant talkin’ testicle! Mental. An alien in Hosegate! Pingu, grab me camera, right? I’m gonna do some autopsy shit on this thing, well fuckin’ X-Files. We got anythin’ sharp?” Pingu couldn’t be roused from under the desk (where he was still muttering), but Nathan was just staring at Tony with a stupid grin on his face, eyes gone from charmingly piggy to disturbingly calculating. “Oh, you’d better not be doin’ that,” Tony warned, wiping his mouth with a tentacle. “I’m not just an alien but a shaman of unimaginable powers. I could have your heard, right, with a flick of my little pink tentacle.” Tony paused for a moment, considering Nathan, who was strapping on a pair of goggles. “I’m also a black belt. Trust me, you do not want to mess with the H Man. Ooooh, outrage! I will bring the pain!” Tony scooted back on the table and into a stack of magazines, raising his tentacles in what he hoped was a threatening manner; actually, Tony was starting to panic. After settling down with Mrs. Harrison, he used more potions and trinkets than active magic, and usually then only for looking into the future before doing a bit of gambling at the tracks, or to cook a turkey without drying it out. At the most strenuous, he still did some banishing of minor demons when the need arose, but only with the help of spell books. He was rather out of practice removing heads with a flick of a tentacle—in fact, the strain would probably give him a heart attack. And really, his karate skills wouldn’t be very helpful unless Nathan got his face close enough for Tony to stab him in the eyes. Tony was considering working up another good vom as a means to deter his kidnapper and would-be vivisectionist when a voice snapped him from his reverie. “There you are, you pink fuckwit.”

“Saboo!” Tony cried. “Help! He’s gonna cut me open and pluck out my little insides—not on.” Nathan whirled around, large video camera resting on one shoulder and a penknife in his hand. “Fuck are you, mate? This is private property, right, and shit’s about to get well Rockwell in here, so you’d better shove off.” Saboo touched the brim of his hat and smirked at Nathan. “Are you going to cut open this testicle and pluck out his insides?” Nathan nodded, looking around as if for encouragement. Pingu was now sobbing quietly. “Well, you can’t,” Saboo announced. “Why not? I found ‘im!” Nathan argued. “I’ll stab you up, I will!” Nathan waved the penknife in Saboo’s direction. Saboo looked at Tony with a frown. “You always get into the weirdest shit. Let’s go.” Saboo turned to stride out the door, but Tony called him back. “Wait, Saboo! A little help?” Saboo turned back with a scowl. “Can’t you get a scooter? Just, anything so I don’t have to carry you around like a purse? It’s undignified, really, for both of us. Have some pride, seriously.” Nathan interrupted this exchange by running at Saboo with a yell, penknife outstretched. “Bloody idiot,” Saboo sighed before kicking Nathan hard in the bollocks. Nathan crumpled to the floor, camera falling with a crash. Saboo collected Tony from the counter, and stepped back over Nathan, his sweeping over Nathan’s grimacing face. As the tall, cloaked figure retreated with the talking pink testicle in his arms, Pingu crept out from underneath the desk, wiping his eyes. “Nathan?” Nathan just groaned, curling up tighter on the floor. A tiny smile played across Pingu’s lips as he took a picture of the pain-stricken Nathan with his cell phone—this was an image he wanted to remember.

“How did you find me?” Tony asked, as Saboo carried him out of the studio and down the stairs. Saboo repositioned Tony in his arms, holding him away from his body—he obviously hadn’t forgotten the cheese sauce incident either. “After the debacle where you went missing after your last birthday party and we found you the next Wednesday in a broom closet in a hostel in Lisbon, we had a tracking chip implanted in you.” “What, like a pet dog? This is an outrage! I didn’t consent to such any such thing!” “Shut up, you ball sack—you did so. You might have been blasted out of your mind, but I have a signed statement saying we could put a tracking chip in you, so don’t be such a baby. If you could learn to take care of yourself, like I do, we wouldn’t have to treat you like a hairless Pomeranian with a drug problem.” Saboo pushed open the door at the bottom of the stairs and turned left down the block. Tony waved his tentacles in distress. “Oi, I’m not a dog! Never have I been dog-like in any way—your comparison is offensive, Saboo, and I won’t stand for it.” “But can you even really stand? I mean, you haven’t got legs or feet. And you are so dog-like—you piddle on the floor and chew up my shoes. I won’t be surprised if you start barking, you plum nonce.” “If no one will lift me up to use the urinal, I have no choice but to relieve myself on the floor, Saboo, and you know that. It’s an unfortunate design flaw in an otherwise efficient and aesthetically pleasing body—the ladies love a man in pink. And rubber is an important part of my diet, and when I get a craving, there’s no stopping me. How many times have I told you to put your shoes in the cupboard if you don’t want me goin’ at ‘em? Enough times, certainly, to justify my outrage that you would still blame me for the destruction of your pair of black trainers after all these years.” “Those were classic Air Jordans, you tit, and they were right next to a pair of crap trainers, but no, you had to go for the Jordans.” Dennis nodded to them from the carpet. “Ah, Saboo, you have found Tony. Very good. Now, let us away, for we must liberate Kirk from gaol, where he is being detained for crimes against nature.” Saboo depositied Tony unceremoniously onto the carpet before climbing up himself. “I told you that ‘having it large’ in a natural history museum was a bad idea, but no one ever listens to me, do they, and now Kirk’s in gaol. Again.” “S’not my fault Kirk wanted to bum the whole bison exhibit,” Tony countered. “Tony, Saboo, now is not the time for your petty arguments,” Dennis chided. “I am glad that Tony has been saved, but now we must turn our attentions to Kirk, who is need of our help, as he is likely to start violating his cell-mates in unspeakable ways if he hasn’t already.” “Oh shut up, you wanger muncher,” Tony snapped. “Really? Wanger muncher?” Saboo asked. “Yeah, it’s not great, but it’s got potential. Actually, I wanted to ask your opinion about it…”

#the mighty boosh #mighty boosh #boosh #saboo #tony harrison #nathan barley #pingu #saboo/tony harrison

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ecotone99 · 5 years

Text

[NF][RO] Smush

Originally statred as a love poem (between the first and second pair of dots) I was gonna write for my partner, but we broke up during the process. I came back to it and built on it a couple days ago. I'd like to use this as my first attempt at finding a sub I could be involved in. Feel free to comment what you wish, feedback appreciated.

...

We made a game of bouncing rubber bands off the ceiling to one another. They shot through the air, were intercepted, and returned to sender as reply. This game was played at 4 in the morning accompanying a dialogue between two people who wanted to get to know one another.

When we had enough material, we took our conversations and layered them over eachother creating a rubberband ball. Although it was your project to begin with I felt it developed into a trophy of the bond we developed in those intimate late nights. Pride filled me to see the words we shared on display at your house. I doubt you remember exactly what was said (I don't) but I must've been pretty charming ;)

We tested our work by throwing it off the balcony once. it held together with no problem as it bounded into the street.

...

If our bodies weren't exhaustable we would've talked for days. We shed our shells, tucked them away together, and continued building our language in the astral.

...

Before we would decide where in the infinite we were to meet that night I'd graffiti your temple with the imaginary paint at my fingertip. You'd try to make out what I was drawing on your back wall through the sensation of my caress. You'd guess correctly it was a cat, a cloud, a flower, a...

Sometimes the little hairs would climax and Express their pleasure over your skin through braille. since love is blind and I am in love I could read the romance novel being written there.

...

We went on dates that explored many planes of existence. Some went a little like this: after we ditched our corpses you'd be waiting on your roof as I pulled up in my space car. We cruised on over to a picnic on the moon. Had drinks on Mars. Got high in Jupiter. Tripped through Saturn. On the way back I would pull over on our favorite asteroid in the belt. Wed think we were coming down but then I'd look at your eyes and see the endless ethereal. Our imaginations spun wildly around us until the alarm went off and I was looking at you thinking, "some night, don't even remember how we got back."

I'd kiss you while you sleep before I go to work.

...

I might be crazy about you. I'm telling this from my point of view wondering how you interpreted our realities. To you these interactions might just be the little things that make life dreamy.

You mean the universe to me so i perceive those little things as quantum mechanics.

...

I must be crazy about you.

Sometimes I think this isn't real. Im terrified One day I'll come to in a psych ward talking to my reflection compulsively as guard walks down the hall telling everyone in a padded room to wake up. I'll have a brief period of clarity where I wonder how I got here. I'll realize none of that ever happened. You never existed.

I'll notice other me isn't wearing a straightjacket. Im beckoning at myself to come closer. Hmm, there's something in the pupils of my twin in the glass. Looking closer I can make out your visage. I focus harder. There you are, face (inches from mine) smashed agaisnt the new pillow you bought from target. Drooling slightly. "Why do I find this cute?" I think to myself.

Then the alarm goes off.

I kiss you while you sleep and get up to walk the dog before going to work asking myself "how did i get back here."

...

The alarm goes off. Im immediately angry. I keep having dreams of you though we broke up some time ago. How could I have blown this?...

"They needed time to work on themself", I'll explain to dumbass.

I summon all my strength to keep the cap firmly on the bottle. Gotta put my smiley face on for the public.

Im terrified this is reality.

Subconsciously I still have hope the alarm will go off one day and I'll be waking up next to them wondering, happy as fuck, how I managed to get back

...

submitted by /u/Jehovanf [link] [comments] via Blogger http://bit.ly/2W7buUl

#Blogger #Story

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samanthasroberts · 7 years

Text

Alex Rodriguez is Major League Baseball’s last megastar, and that’s OK

David Lengel: A-Rods fame transcends baseball; plus, Prince Fielder retires, Gary Sheffield demands respect for Tim Tebow and the Mets manager Terry Collins is under fire

All the way to the bitter end, and it is bitter, the fans want A-Rod. On Tuesday night, with Alex Rodriguez bizarrely left out of the lineup by the Yankees manager, Joe Girardi, Boston Red Sox fans chanted his name at Fenway Park, letting Bombers brass know they made a mistake by sitting the slugger who is (for now) set to retire after one more big night in the Bronx, this coming Friday against Tampa Bay.

Can you blame the Yankees for sticking it to their man, even if he was, at least seemingly, provided with a graceful exit plan on Sunday? After all, were talking about player who tried to torch his employers, the league he played in and the union who helped guarantee most of his 10-year, $275m deal during a scorched-earth defense of his role in the Biogenesis PED scandal.

Except this shouldnt be about the Yankees settling scores, this is about pure entertainment. And with the clock running down on one of the most significant sporting careers this country has ever known, limiting the owner of 696 of the most controversial home runs in history to pinch-hit duty is the direct opposite of giving fans what they want.

Yes, they still want A-Rod, a player who cant hit like he used to, but can still light up talk radio switchboards for hours, rattle social media and fill countless pages with pixel after pixel. In an era where content is in demand like never before, A-Rod has been just that: walking, living, breathing, never-ending content. At the next Baseball Writers Association dinner, they should give A-Rod an award for enriching their lives with some of the most colorful, controversial and polarizing stories theyll ever scribble. He deserves it, because another A-Rod isnt going to walk into the sport anytime soon.

A-Rod is arguably, along with his ex-team-mate, Derek Jeter, the most recognizable name in modern baseball times, and not just to sports fans, to everybody. A-Rod has transcended the game in a way almost all ballplayers dont. In retirement, his place in mainstream gossip columns will continue, especially if he sticks with billionaire CEO and co-founder of 23andMe Anne Wojcicki, who was once married to Google co-founder Sergey Brin: know any other baseball players who have landed in Vanity Fair lately?

The NFL has their Tom Brady, Aaron Rodgers and until last season, Peyton Manning, while the NBA has their LeBron James and a host of strong second-tier stars. After A-Rod, baseball has nobody on or near that level of national, crossover stardom.

Think about all the game-changing talent that is around the league today: Mike Trout, Clayton Kershaw, Jake Arrieta, Jose Altuve, Kris Bryant: the list of standouts goes on for a very long time, but theres no one that moves the needle like A-Rod, who is known by 50% of all Americans six years or older according to Q-Scores. Bryce Harper, who did make a late-night appearance with Jimmy Fallon in May, and is by far the least vanilla young ballplayer around, is the next highest at 20% awareness.

Alex Rodriguez (@AROD) October 30, 2015

Had a blast on my first time on @fallontonight with @jimmyfallon. pic.twitter.com/Gi3HjYu3rR

Every circuit wants to market its stars, who are the one of the main reasons the Big Four leagues are the behemoths they are today. But in todays sports world, MLB operates well despite the fact that their players have lower national awareness than those from other major North American sports leagues.

The league may wish their national ratings for all-star games and the post-season were rising rather than falling, but in MLB today, all of that matters much less overall. Their digital service, 33% of which was just picked up by Disney, is valued at a staggering $3.5bn, while local television and radio perform well. Their biggest issue is finding a way to maintain the status quo when it comes to the billions of dollars in local revenues earned via cable bundling, where many fans who dont watch an inning of baseball have been subsidizing huge rights deals for years and years.

So really, the model of pushing stars to drive national awareness across Major League Baseball has more or less been on life support for many years, meaning that the days of grandiose ad campaigns, as rare as theyve been, probably went out with Jeter.

As for Rodriguez, well, based on ticket sales for Fridays game, which is being broadcast nationally on Fox, hes certain to go out with a bang, whether he swings and misses or hits yet another A-bomb. As always, A-Rod will make an impact, simply by showing up.

Video of the week

ICYMI: Manny Machado: three at bats, three home runs in three innings, single handedly wrecking the White Sox on a Sunday afternoon. Thats one heck of a third of a game for the Orioles slugger who is breaking out from his breakout seasons. Is he your MVP? He certainly deserves to be in the American League conversation.

Manny from Mercury.

Quote of the Week

Take your stupid baseball team and get out.

Documents obtained by AZCentral.com say thats what Maricopa County supervisor Andy Kunasek said to Diamondbacks president Derrick Hall during an April tirade. The county, which includes the city of Phoenix, has denied the D-Backs $65m in ballpark renovations in an ongoing dispute that could threaten Arizonas long-term future at Chase Field. Kunasek also told Hall to go back to fucking West Virginia.

Whos closer to victory: Donald Trump or the Cubs?

Well, you would like to think that in a week that Le Grande Orange alluded to a possible assassination threat to a would-be presidential-elect, that the Trumpster would be farther away from victory than ever before. However, we also know that Trump bounces back easier than one of those 25 rubber balls your kid makes you buy outside the pizza shop: the Dems should limit any embarrassing high-fives.

The Cubs? Well, whatever was eating at them in July, when they were, somewhat amazingly, just 12-16, is done and dusted. Chicago raced out to a 8-0 mark this month, and their July to August ERA dropped from 4.47 to 1.29, while their OPS popped by over 60 points during the same span. That makes the Cubbies easy winners this week.

How did the kids piss off Goose Gossage this week?

The St Louis Cardinals, down 4-0 on Monday night to the Cincinnati Reds, on the verge of a three-game losing streak, got yet another gift from God. After rallying from a 4-0 ninth inning deficit, Yadier Molina stepped to the plate with the bases loaded and brought the winning home run by any means necessary.

Yadier does it again.

Theres only one thing worse than a bases-loaded walk to end a ballgame a bases loaded hit by pitch. Molina didnt exactly run away from Ross Ohlendorfs offering, and so Goose may be thinking that is one bush league way to win. Then again, hes probably thinking what we most of us think when the Cardinals somehow find a way to rise from the dead, and thats not printable here.

Nine thoughts in order

1) Prince Fielder is retiring from baseball after a second neck surgery forced the Rangers DH to call it quits. Aside from the sad news that one of the games most prodigious sluggers is retiring, it now confirms that then Tigers president and general manager Dave Dombrowski made one heck of a deal when he shipped Fielder to Texas in exchange for Ian Kinsler. By the time Fielders deal runs out, he will have been paid $138m for 34 home runs and a .760 OPS over 289 games. The Tigers will have paid $62m for Kinsler up until 2018, which includes a $5m buyout of the final year of his deal, but doesnt count the $30m they kicked over to Texas to help pay Fielders deal. So for $92m total, Detroit have received an .794 OPS, in over 400 games and counting, with the second baseman currently enjoying his best season since 2008. Theres some relief for Texas however – its reported that some $36m of the remaining deal will be covered by insurance. Fielder retires with the same number of home runs as his father Cecil: 319.

2) Toronto Blue Jays starting center fielder Kevin Pillar is out with for at least two weeks with sprained thumb ligaments, and considering the way he routinely bounces around the Rogers Centre outfield walls and dives into its turf, its a real wonder how he wasnt injured sooner. Luckily, GM Ross Atkins, who is quietly patting his own back this week, has an everyday center fielder in Melvin Upton to replace him. Upton is enjoying something of a comeback season, but has been slow to get going in T Dot now hell get his chance to play every day and make that deal look even better.

3) Tim Tebow is going to try and play baseball, allegedly, and as usual, the media are tripping over themselves to cover whatever he does. Personally, I thought he deserved more of a chance in the NFL after guiding the Broncos to the playoffs in 2011, something a whopping 10,000 Denver fans agree with after signing a petition for his return. Baseball? Well, I was tempted to write that its never, ever, EVER going to happen. Then I saw this tweet from Gary Sheffield:

Gary Sheffield (@garysheffield) August 9, 2016

I spent time w @TimTebow in the cages recently, he’s a NATURAL. I absolutley believe in his ability to play in the bigs. Tim has IT #focused

If you read Sheffields recent piece in the Players Tribune, youd have to think twice about Tebow he demands that you do! So, as per Sheffs orders, Im keeping an open mind, for now.

4) On Tuesday some 15,000 Red Sox fans learned theyd be denied a David Ortiz bobblehead doll, just hours before their game with the Yankees.

Boston Red Sox (@RedSox) August 8, 2016

We’re back home tomorrow night and we’re going big with the #BigPapi bobblehead! Get yours: https://t.co/uQuufP0I67 pic.twitter.com/Y5CzCEb5g8

I thought the bobbleheads were an inaccurate portrayal of David, said Sam Kennedy said. To go further, I thought the facial features were racially insensitive. Sox brass later announced that fans in attendance would actually be eligible to receive a more politically correct doll with a significantly thicker neck once a new figurine is made.

5) Heres an admission: my fascination with Ichiro was such that I used to write emails about him to friends before every spring. Mostly they rambled on about certain stats on how he missed just 33 games over his first 11 seasons in Seattle, or that he would have almost definitely been MLBs all-time hit king had his career started off in North America.

The first Japanese player to play the field, Ichiro is without question one of the most intriguing players in the long history of the game, and his 3,000th hit is just the latest statistical wonder surrounding his game. Ironically, after all these years of racking up hit after hit, my fondest Ichiro memory remains his throwing out of Terrance Long in 2001.

Incredible Ichiro.

6) Last month Pete Rose sued John Dowd for a statutory rape allegation the criminal defense attorney and former federal prosecutor made last year. During a 13 July 2015 radio appearance, Dowd, who lead the 1989 investigation into Roses gambling, referenced Roses ex-associate, Michael Bertolini, who allegedly told him that he ran young girls for him down in spring training, ages 12 to 14. Rose said there was no truth to the statements, which took place before the MLB commissioner, Rob Manfred, elected to not take him off the sports ineligible list in December. Now Dowd is trying to have the case dismissed, a move Roses attorney, Martin Garbus calls a stall tactic. Like anything involving Rose, this latest saga is unlikely to end anytime soon.

7) Yasiel Puigs reputation in Dodgerland continues to spiral. This time the recently demoted Puig was seen drinking beer in a party bus with a bunch of young Triple-A Oklahoma players, some of which were under the legal drinking age, having as much fun as possible inside a vehicle parked in Iowa. Unfortunately for Puig, who is just 25, these completely normal acts, which included singing, profanity and inside jokes, he posted videos of the partying on social media and so now its a full-blown controversy. Management said theyd handle it internally, while Puig merchandise was removed from Dodger Stadium stores. A word of advice to Yasiel: the nail that sticks up will be hammered down.

8) Terry Collins is under more pressure than ever after a shaky week featuring what were, more or less, indefensible decisions. On Saturday, down a run in the ninth and two outs, he didnt pinch-run for the plodding Jay Bruce, who was then thrown out at home to end the game.

Jay Bruce might be faster than anybody on our team for all I know, said Collins. I know he is a good base runner.

Bruce is new to the team, but in the age of information, there is no excuse for Collins: he has to know his players.

Making matters worse, Collins didnt challenge the call at the plate.

Mets fans have been critical of several of Collins moves this season, never mind the fact that he manages a would-be play-off team that hasnt won consecutive games since 7 July. However, few managers have had to deal with the injury issues hes faced over two seasons, and after taking New York to the World Series last season, hes probably safe for the rest of the season.

9) And finally, Clayton Kershaw is still finding ways to contribute in LA, despite being sidelined with back issues until at least 27 August. On Sunday, he led a dugout prank on Alex Wood.

LasMayores (@LasMayores) August 8, 2016

Clayton Kershaw jugandole una broma a Alex Wood. #LasMayores #MLB https://t.co/KK5eI5UkFc

A full video of Claytons stacking seeds on to the back of Wood, narrated to perfection by Vin Scully, can be found here. Rather incredibly, the Dodgers have gone 23-14 without their ace in the rotation, pulling even even with their NL West rivals, the San Francisco Giants, if only for a day. The Dodgers bullpen has played a large role in that success they have the lowest batting average against in innings seven through nine in baseball history according to SI a remarkable turnaround considering the fits LAs relief core caused their fan base over ensuing seasons.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/12/01/alex-rodriguez-is-major-league-baseballs-last-megastar-and-thats-ok/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/12/01/alex-rodriguez-is-major-league-baseballs-last-megastar-and-thats-ok/

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