Comedic Gold

Last Login:
January 18th, 2022




Gender: Male

Age: 20
Country: United States

Signup Date:
June 29, 2020


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01/13/2022 11:21 PM 

Starter from Starry Eyes

The Monster slept. She watched it with careful, jaded eyes. A breath in real slow and a woosh out accompanied by a rumbling sound. Her face still felt sore and gently she touched it only to let out a hiss. Her hand drew back and another sound fell out of her mouth, her hand clapping over her dry lips. She didn’t want the monster to wake up. But he slept on and on as though he hadn’t slept in days. She relaxed only slightly and bent down to pick up what he’d yanked out of her purse.

 
The sloppy blocked written letters in black ink made her heart hurt. Just seeing the name took her back to a time where things were uncertain except one: Lucky 7. The Loser’s Club. More memories flooded in but her blue eyes snapped shut to keep them at bay. Drawing in a deep breath and remembering how her Aunt Tiffany told her to stop anxiety attacks, the red headed woman counted till ten. She held her breath in so hard that it felt like fire in her mouth burning her. She slowly released it and her shoulders loosened up.

 
Once more her eyes went to the massive King sized bed that he’d picked out after they had become husband and wife. Stupid, she thought to jump into marriage with one man she barely knew or even liked. When had a d*ck ever lead to making choices for her? That’s all her marriage to Tom Rogan was—sex--and so she’d th ought she fell in love with him which was the worst mistake of her life.
All over a drunken night and feeling lost. Everything in this room was Tom nothing spoke of Beverly at all. Even her cosmetics were far and few between as Tom didn’t like her to look “too good” around the office. He had an inane fear that someone would swoop her up and she’d divorce him.

If she did—it wouldn’t be for that reason. And she knew Tom was f***ing at least two of her fashion designers. But Beverly didn’t care because it meant he wasn’t at home as much, or in her bed. And his fists didn’t blacken her eyes nor would her slim rib cage feel the sharp polished points of Italian leather shoes when he was in a mood.

 
She smiled to herself as she saw the note again. A joke between friends had caused this event to happen. There had been a joke-- “Just drug him with Valium and come to my show.” Richie Tozier had insisted his dark blue eyes pleading her to. “I miss you Bev. I know we f***ed up a lot of things between us...and you’re...obviously a married woman now...but we can be friends again right?”And those eyes had zigzagged to her wedding ring where a huge rock sat.

 
Their meet up had been a surprise. Bev had been heading to her favorite coffee shop on a lunch break and Richie came out by himself. His eyes had lit up as she walked past not even seeing him. “Beverly!”

 
The voice brought her back to the early 80’s, to Motley Crue and living with her favorite aunt Tiffany. Summer nights filled with booze and kisses, going to the drive in movies. Her whole body froze and she turned. “Richie?” A bright smile broke out on her face and soon they were hugging. His eyes swept over her and she hoped she still looked good to him. Then, she was wondering why she thought that when she was happily marriedIf they hadn’t had that stupid fight on the beach, Bev thought she’d be Richie’s wife now.

 
Another mistake but by then Beverly Anne Marsh had made many. But she already knew deep within that her life with Richie would have been a thousand times better. Not only was he one to keep her laughing he was a great lover, too.

 
You look really great Bev. I love your long hair.” Richie said in a soft, deep voice that made her look up. He’d always seen her with short hair. She reached up, fluffed the ends of her red curls. His hand reached out and she could feel how it felt, slightly calloused from rough housing with the other boys, his fingers twisting around deep red locks. She watched him a moment and he gave her one of his quirky smiles that could still make her heart break. Richie let go of the locks of hair and smiled. “Let me buy you a coffee and we’ll catch up.”
***
So they did. When he’d joked about the Valium and Bev didn’t think she’d take it seriously. But when she got home from work someone had seen her with Richie at the coffee house and told Tom. A huge fight broke out and soon Tom was finding Richie’s number in her purse and then he was hitting her. But the Valium she put in his alcoholic drink took quick hold and he ran out of steam, falling backwards on the bed, eagle spread.
Bev threw a few things into a suitcase. She didn’t know what was going to happen after this if anything but the woman ran to the front door. She pulled out her cell phone and furiously punched in Richie’s numbers but as upset as she was she kept getting numbers wrong. As she ran down to the stairs and let herself out she tried to calm down.
Seated in a yellow taxi speeding to a hotel Beverly Marsh finally called him. Her hand shook and she wanted a cigarette in the worst way. Tom didn’t like her to smoke, or even to drink but she did on occsaions. One night she even got high on Mary Jane and he’d flipped but not as bad as he normally would have. Bev pushed those thoughts out.
He’d promised to be here. He had to be. She was shaking suddenly thinking of when Tom Rogan woke up. Would he come after her? Or could—for one in her rotten life—things go according to plan? Could she and Richie really start over fresh again?
Please be there, don’t let me down. I need you.

09/04/2021 08:49 PM 

Brave Maiden starter

“Strife…..Strife. Strife!”

Strife jerked out of his thoughts, sidestepping a fist that came at his head. His eyes narrowed and he glared at the petite form of his pain in the ass mother.

“What?”

“Don’t you what me.” Eris sneered, fireball forming in her hand to be thrown at a simple thought. “Could have let that mortal have his way with you since you want to ‘what me’”

Strife rolled his eyes, why suddenly, she wanted to be a protective mother he did not understand. Until the fireball that had been in his mother’s hand moments before was now thrown past him a second later: grazing his cheek. He yelped, took a step back and threw one of his own at the bitch. It would have turned into a war against mother and son if Ares hadn’t swooped down in the middle of the battlefield and smacked both upside the head.

“I did not have you two start this war to fight amongst yourself. Shut up until it’s over and then you two can kill each other.”

Strife and Eris sneered at each other once more before they were going their separate ways. The rest of the battlefield went as planned. The Greeks won and pushed the opposing force even further back to their rightful places: beneath them and far away.

Once the battle was over and the mortals had everything under control, the three gods flashed themselves away from the battlefield. The adrenaline from the battle was still rushing through Strife’s blood. It had been a good skirmish today. Ares relaxed in his throne, one leg up and over the arm of the chair and the other firm on the ground as his eyes roamed over the temple. Strife stood on the side of the throne, leaning against it.

“So Unc…..what’s the plan.”

Ares turned to give Strife a hard stare, eyes flickering to his relaxed position against his throne back up to the blood-covered face of his annoying nephew. “You’re getting blood on my throne.”

It was the only warning Strife got. He quickly pushed off, waving his hands in a ‘Sorry.’ movement. “Do not worry on what I have planned next.” That was code for get out of here. Strife mock bowed, cackling as Ares threw a fireball and he flashed away.

He would definitely pay for it when he saw his uncle next but that was next time. He appeared in his hidden temple, hidden from mortals but close enough to a village in case he ever felt like causing something. Children laughter filled the throne room upon his entrance. Delia –his handmaiden- must be with the village children. Nothing was more mischievous then children so they were his worshippers. Most of the children were orphaned due to the very wars his uncle created and he helped with. So it was equal worship from the children and Strife silently helping the children he helped orphan. He needed to get out of these blood-soaked clothes. He could flash away his clothes and replace them with identical ones or he could do it the mortal way. The sound of children getting loudly made the choice for him. He could not let them see him in blood from head to toe. Seconds before they appeared Strife was lounging on his throne: not even a speck of blood on his body and legs throne over the arm of the chair as his head hung down off the other arm. He grinned when the children went from surrounding his beloved handmaiden to immediately running to him: already explaining their offerings to their god. He fixed himself in his throne, leaning over to aptly listen to the children before them.

While other gods had adult worshippers he had them. One day they would probably shed their mischievous sides and join one of his aunts and uncles temple. Or they would stay with him like Delia. She had been his since the day she was 6: still mischievous even to this day. That spark never left her eyes and she knew Strife better than anyone. Eventually Delia had to politely remind the children it was time to return to the village. They groaned and whined, not wanting to leave but knew they had to. Strife wiggled his fingers in a goodbye before he was left alone once again. The sound of giggling, laughing and speaking slowly getting softer until it was silent once more. Strife leaned back, eyes closing. Today had been a very eventful day. No Jerkcules. No Xena. No annoying blonde sidekicks. Just pure chaos and fun.
 

07/12/2020 06:18 PM 

Drabbles to do

What did you do? - Brave Maiden
9. Hugging and 15. Teaching each other how to do something - Brave Maiden

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