this meme broke my brain
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. ♥ I finally re-watched it after Jess and I were singing to the song on her Disney CD. Belle is probably one of the most kickass fem characters in the Disney world. Plus, the first song = top disney songs ever.
*
meme stolen from caruso
1. Write down the names of 10 characters.
2. Write a fic of fifteen words or less for every prompt, using the characters determined by the numbers. Do NOT read the prompts before you do step 1.
1. Ryan Lochte
2. Alex Rodriguez
3. Alexander Skarsgard
4. Roy Halladay
5. Markus Naslund
6. Dirk Nowitzki
7. Roberto Luongo
8. Barry Zito
9. Steve Nash
10. Huston Street
First Time, 4 and 6 (Roy Halladay & Dirk Nowitzki, omg...)
Friend of a friend. Party of a party. Those minor details aren't important anymore. Dirk doesn't even remember whose mansion they're in. All he knows is that he and Halladay are locked themselves in a tiny as fuck room - definitely crowded with the amount of crap and their bodies fighting for room. If they were any other normal people it'd be workable, but they aren't, they're crazy tall athletes with extra long arms and legs trying not to trip or knock things over.
This is easy, with less of a height difference and a leaner body. Dirk barely has to lean down to kiss Halladay on his mouth, easily wrapped his arm around the man's waist. They both don't flinch from the knocks on the door. Precious times are going wasted if they bothered to care. Instead, Dirk pulls Halladay in closer, almost clinging onto the man.
[okay sorry, I can't stop laughing at how ridiculous this pairing is.]
Angst, 7 (Roberto Luongo)
He couldn't believe it. He let in so many damn goals. He saw them, he saw them coming, he moved, but never fast enough, his body wasn't willing itself to get there to catch the puck, to block the puck, anything, anything to keep it out of the net. This was supposed to be his, they were up, they were up and poised to get it to another game, but no, he let the team down, he let himself down. He doesn't know how many more chances, how many more shots he was going to have. This was supposed to be his series to win.
AU, 1 and 8 (Ryan Lochte & Barry Zito...........)
Ryan set his suitcases and whatever other shit he unloaded from his dad's trunk. So this was college, huh, he thought as he plopped himself onto one of the bed, moving around to see if he should pick this one or the other one on the other side of the room. Fucking dorms, he rather be at home with his own bed. He didn't get why he couldn't bring his own bed here. This bed fucking sucked, he thought, moving over to the other one and doing the same test. That one wasn't any better. But considering the second one he tried, the bed was away from the door which meant he'd have it bang against his shit every time it opened. He was gonna take the first one instead.
This was hard work, debating where to sleep and everything. He yawned at the thought of more work ahead and decided to nap instead. His other roommate wasn't here yet, so obviously he was going to take advantage of the peace and quiet for some shut eyes. God, he hoped his roommate wasn't some loser who was those geeks or nerds or some shit. It'd just put everything out of sync. He yawned again and went to sleep on the uncomfortable bed.
Ryan opened his eyes, ready to stretch out his limbs. The bed barely fitted him, didn't they know people were growing taller and taller every year? Duh. Upon looking at a pair of brown eyes staring at him, Ryan almost wanted to shriek, but realized that duh, it was probably his roommate. He'd done this enough times to his brothers, it was elementary. If the dude was sleeping on top of him or something, then that would be a major problem and a pretty good prank to pull, of course you wouldn't be fully clothed. But anyway, he was still staring at that pair of eyes.
"You have long lashes."
Thanks?
"You have more lashes on your right eye than your left," the kid said again.
Really, thanks? Ryan was ready to punch the motherfucker out, fuck the consequences, then realized, took a double take, and laughed. The kid was baked. He wasn't going to share that part of himself until at least next week of school. He still had to get a feel of this place and possibly find a dealer. That was why he didn't want to move away from home. That Josh kid always hooked him up with the best shit. Being the best customer and friend of course.
"Jeah, I'm Ryan," he said, still lying on his bed and staring back at the kid.
The kid nodded. "I'm Barry but no one calls me that. They always called me Z back home."
"Cool, Z. Nice to meet ya," he grinned. He didn't know where Z came from and really that didn't matter 'cause he knew maybe college wasn't so shitty after all.
Threesome, 3, 6, and 9 (Alexander Skarsgard, Dirk Nowitzki & Steve Nash, @________@)
New York, New York. The bright lights and the big apples, or there was one apple. Was there ever an actual apple? Didn't matter as Dirk sat on the bed, cross-legged in usual meditation position. He was watching his boyfriend kissing another man. In other world, the man wouldn't even get close enough to Steve. But this was different. They agreed on this. He watched excitedly as Alex growled, thrusting hard into Steve. The way he gripped onto Steve's wrists, pinning the man down onto the bed.
It was different but the same. Alex was built so similar to himself, despite the height differences. The man was pale, with lanky arms and legs, hair similarly coloured. God he was even more turned on as his thoughts drifted to pretend that Alex was actually him and he was watching himself fuck Steve. It was like live action porn. He wondered what it would be like to fuck Alex. How would Steve react? He wished they were at home and he had that ceiling mirror. Fuck, he thought as he willed his hands to stay put, even if they were itching to touch something, himself, Steve, Alex, anything else other than the rough of the cotton sheets.
Hurt/Comfort, 5 and 10 (Markus Naslund & Huston Street, i don't even)
Markus hesitantly reached out, debating if he should even bother with this. The kid was clutching someone in his hand, sitting down on the ground and just openly weeping. He looked around, trying to see anyone else could help. Despite his experience with being the captain, crying was one of his weakness. Oh he knew men do cry, but rarely did hockey players do so, especially so openly.
"Kid, kid, you all right?" Markus asked, crouching in front of the kid.
The kid nodded, but still sobbing hard and holding even more tightly to whatever he was holding, to the point where his knuckles were pale white.
Suddenly, the kid burst out crying even harder. Markus was sure he didn't do or say anything wrong. What the fuck was wrong with the kid? "Um," he tried, unsure what to say considering the kid was a sobbing mess. "Hey, it's going to be all right. What's your name?"
The kid shook his head. He opened and closed his mouth a few times and finally said, "Huston".
Houston? Like the city? Houston? Markus sighed and shuffled over to sit next to his "Houston" kid instead. "It's going to be okay. Whatever it is, it'll turn out fine," he said quietly. The kid responded by leaning his head over and deciding that Markus was going to be his pillow. Markus held in a cringe as he felt his shirt getting wet from the tears. Whatever it was, it must have been bad. He soothed the kid, singing softly in Swedish he learnt from his mother. It had been used on him enough times when Forsberg decided he was going to be the punching bag or guinea pig. He continued to sing as the crying turned into quiet sobs. He never found out what it was as he let the kid fall asleep next to him, still clutching to his necklace. By the time he woke up, the kid was gone.
Crack, 1 (Ryan Lochte)
Ryan sighed dejectedly when his father sent him back to his room. He looked longingly at thingamabobs lined up neatly in a row above the rocks and glanced lower of the boxes of gizmos he collected over the years. He sighed again, kicking his tail out, floating horizontally, and imagining what it'd be like if he had two legs and feet instead of a tail.
When's it my turn?
Wouldn't I love?
Love to explore that shore up above?
Out of the sea
Wish I could be
Part of that world
He twirled his hair and frowned, wanting to swipe his collection of human gadgets away. He could no longer stand staring at them anymore. His father would never understand.
He flipped his fin, pushing his way all the way up above the water. He snuck behind a giant boulder and peeked to the side of it. That was when he saw this man. The man came back again! While this man looked different, when he sat on the dry rocks and smiled, all of Ryan's worries would melt away. That was how powerful the smile was. Ryan would give anything, anything for a chance to walk on the sands and meet this man, who brightened Ryan's days.
"You're going to get caught!" Spidy opened and closed his claws in disapproval. "Your father made it very clear that you were to cease with your human fascination!"
"Shush," Ryan whispered. "He's going to hear you!"
[it'd be even funnier if Phelps was the mermaid]
*
Ryan took another step back from the Beast. He would not stay here. He was no prisoner; all he did was save his father from the Beast. The image of said Beast flashed through his mind again. His jaw was long, his eyes beady and his ears! His ears were strangely large. Also his feet, they were abnormally large, much like his ears. Even his height was... tall. Someone gave him the wrong name. He should be the Giant, and well, the Beast too.
He followed the Beast until they reached a room that was going to be his. At least he would not be staying up in the tower. Was he not a prisoner?
No, he would not go to dinner and dine with that thing, he thought as he examined the room. He flopped onto the bed; the bed was comfy and soft, but it was no match for his own even if its size was much smaller and less soft.
"There, there. You'll be fine."
He picked his head up. Where did the noise come from? Surely there was no one in here. Is that... is that the wardrobe moving and staring down at him? He definitely wasn't smoking anything before trying to rescue his father from this castle.
"You will need something to wear! We have plenty of suits and breeches for dinner."
"No," Ryan replied, sounding angry. "I will not go to dinner."
[that is where i'll stop for now. hahahaha phelps is the beast]
(lol, lack of maternal guidance, these two movies)
IS IT WRONG THAT I WANT TO WRITE EITHER TWO TO FULL LENGTHS?
Horror, 10 (Huston Street)
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE IS NO GOD," Huston screamed on top of his lungs, clutching the cross pendant given to him by his grandmother. She had given it to him after the first Christening. While he had replaced the necklace over the years to a longer length or newer condition, the pendant remained the same. If he was in a movie, there'd be sound effects playing to convey what he felt right now.
Baby Fic, 5 and 9 (Markus Naslund & Steve Nash)
Steve often wondered what it would be like to have four arms instead of two. He tried holding the twins in both of his hands, but he didn't want to risk it, even if he was a professional basketball player, getting paid to handle the ball on a daily bases. But this was different, they were balls, they were his baby daughters. So now he was holding Lola in his arms, and watching Bella giggling in her crib.
"You need a hand with that?"
Steve could barely tear his eyes away from his daughter to see who the newcomer was. Of course, Markus was supposed to be here. They were to play floor hockey or something.
Instead, Steve gently handed Lola to Markus then picked up Bella from the cribs. When Lola heard her twin was giggling, she too started to kick and laugh loudly in Markus's arms.
Dark, 2 and 8 (Alex Rodriguez & Barry Zito)
Alex waved his hand in front of his eyes, hoping and, praying that something would register. Nothing. His eyesight was gone. No. This could not be. He'd never see himself in the mirror again. He'd never fix his hair, or get new clothes from New York high-end boutiques. No, this was not happening to him. "Hello?" He called out. Now that he lost his vision, he needed someone to show him where everything was and pretty much act as his pair of eyes. "Hello? Is anyone there?" He asked again. The sky darkened out of the blue, no warning what so ever. It was eerie how silent it was, when before - when he still had his vision - he could barely find a moment of silence to think with the busy streets and cars outside. He ran to the windows to look outside, but by the time he did, his knees gave out and he slumped to the ground. When he awoken, he already lost his vision. How?
He'd never play baseball again. No one would allow a blind man anywhere near the field. He couldn't even get out of this damn room.
"Yeah?"
Alex's head darted left and right, trying to figure out where the sound came from. Someone was around! "I'm over here!"
"I'm coming, I'm coming," the voice said again. Alex slowly pushed himself off the floor. He cringed when he heard a crunch, as his foot most likely stepped on broken glass.
"Dude, no fucking way."
Alex turned to the man, assuming he was facing the right position. He stuck his hands out, trying to get a feel of his surrounding or something to lean against. "Who's out there?"
"Alex Rodriguez? Is that you?"
Alex felt a presence in front of him and scowled. "Yes, that's me. Who is this?"
"Fucking amazing. Dude, oh right, name. I'm Barry Zito, duh. You don't recognize me?"
"I'm blind, if you can see. I'm assuming you can see considering you made your way over here."
"Yeah, yeah, hold your horses. Of all the people alive, I get Alex Rodriguez. Or a blind Alex Rodriguez. Fucking whoop."
Alex took a small step forward; he had no idea how far away Zito was from him. "What do you mean, of all the people alive?" Luckily, his hand found the pitcher's arm and gripped it tightly. He was never going let go, Barry fucking Zito or not.
"Oh right, duh. You're blind. No idea what happened, but there's only me and you left I guess. Everyone else just... disappeared."
"Fuck," Alex muttered under his breath. "I can't believe I'm the saner one out of the two remaining survivors."
"Hey, I'm not deaf, blind man."
[something else happens, maybe they get eaten by gargoyles, who knows]
*
ARAH: *waves hand* NUUUUUUUUU. JEEEEEEEET??? JEEEEEEEET?
*silence*
ARAH: I CAN'T SEEEEEEEEEEEE. WHAT ABOUT MAH HAIR. MAH CLOTHES. MY LUSHOUS LIPS I RATHER KILL MAHSELF BE BE AH-LIVE!11
ARAH: WHOSE TAT.
ZEETO: YO.
ARAH: YOU SENT ME A STONER?! JEEEEEEEEEEEEEET?!?!?!
Zeeto: DUDE.
Romance, 4 and 7 (Roy Halladay & Roberto Luongo)
Halladay smiled easily as the flash went off, almost blinding him in the process. He blinked a few times to get the white light out of his vision.
"Thank you!!" The young woman said, blushing and giggling as she took the camera from the waiter and viewed the picture. "Thank you!"
Halladay nodded, smiling despite his annoyance over someone's tardiness.
"Sorry, I'm late. Traffic, snow, you know, it makes the city stop when it snows," Luongo said, brushing the thin layer of snow off his coat. "Have you ordered yet?"
Halladay shook his head. "I was waiting for you," he replied, pushing forward the other menu towards Luongo's direction.
The goalie relaxed into his seat and smiled at the pitcher. "Let's order then, you must be starving. I heard that the ribs here are excellent," he said, trailing off to some other topic.
Halladay bobbed his head along to Luongo's musings. He tried to listen, but he was so focused on the other man's long dark hair and the way it curled at the bottom. He watched as the snow melted from the top of the head, and the water droplets slid down the strands like slides. He wondered what it'd be like to be that water - would it be like going down the water slides, with a big splash in the end?
"What are you staring at?" Luongo said, moving his head so Halladay watched the water droplets flying everywhere. They must be sad that they were no longer a part of Roberto.
He shook his head again, "Nothing. What were we talking about?"
Death Fic, 2 and 3 (Alex Rodriguez & Alexander Skarsgard)
Rodriguez bit on his puffy lips if keep himself from crying anymore. He told himself to be strong, to not give in. He couldn't believe he was never to kiss the man again, never put his hands through the man's soft buzz-cut hair. Never to look into his green eyes that so similiarly mirrored his.
"Shh, let it out," Skarsgard murmured, kissing Rodriguez's eyelids.
Ever since he had heard the news, Rodriguez was in denial. He didn't want to believe it when he saw the plane broken into pieces, parts scattered all of the Atlantic ocean. That bitch, she was the one who wanted to get Derek away from the media and the partying and took him to Australia. Their pictures still managed to find their way onto the cover of the New York Post.
He found Skarsgard at this celebrity bar. He came with this blonde chick, he didn't even bother to care where she went when they left the bar. No he wouldn't dare to pick anyone up at Jay-Z's. He had learnt his lessons there.
HAhAH NEVER AGAIN. My favourites are the ones with Ryan Lochte. And that one with Huston.
*
meme stolen from caruso
1. Write down the names of 10 characters.
2. Write a fic of fifteen words or less for every prompt, using the characters determined by the numbers. Do NOT read the prompts before you do step 1.
1. Ryan Lochte
2. Alex Rodriguez
3. Alexander Skarsgard
4. Roy Halladay
5. Markus Naslund
6. Dirk Nowitzki
7. Roberto Luongo
8. Barry Zito
9. Steve Nash
10. Huston Street
First Time, 4 and 6 (Roy Halladay & Dirk Nowitzki, omg...)
Friend of a friend. Party of a party. Those minor details aren't important anymore. Dirk doesn't even remember whose mansion they're in. All he knows is that he and Halladay are locked themselves in a tiny as fuck room - definitely crowded with the amount of crap and their bodies fighting for room. If they were any other normal people it'd be workable, but they aren't, they're crazy tall athletes with extra long arms and legs trying not to trip or knock things over.
This is easy, with less of a height difference and a leaner body. Dirk barely has to lean down to kiss Halladay on his mouth, easily wrapped his arm around the man's waist. They both don't flinch from the knocks on the door. Precious times are going wasted if they bothered to care. Instead, Dirk pulls Halladay in closer, almost clinging onto the man.
[okay sorry, I can't stop laughing at how ridiculous this pairing is.]
Angst, 7 (Roberto Luongo)
He couldn't believe it. He let in so many damn goals. He saw them, he saw them coming, he moved, but never fast enough, his body wasn't willing itself to get there to catch the puck, to block the puck, anything, anything to keep it out of the net. This was supposed to be his, they were up, they were up and poised to get it to another game, but no, he let the team down, he let himself down. He doesn't know how many more chances, how many more shots he was going to have. This was supposed to be his series to win.
AU, 1 and 8 (Ryan Lochte & Barry Zito...........)
Ryan set his suitcases and whatever other shit he unloaded from his dad's trunk. So this was college, huh, he thought as he plopped himself onto one of the bed, moving around to see if he should pick this one or the other one on the other side of the room. Fucking dorms, he rather be at home with his own bed. He didn't get why he couldn't bring his own bed here. This bed fucking sucked, he thought, moving over to the other one and doing the same test. That one wasn't any better. But considering the second one he tried, the bed was away from the door which meant he'd have it bang against his shit every time it opened. He was gonna take the first one instead.
This was hard work, debating where to sleep and everything. He yawned at the thought of more work ahead and decided to nap instead. His other roommate wasn't here yet, so obviously he was going to take advantage of the peace and quiet for some shut eyes. God, he hoped his roommate wasn't some loser who was those geeks or nerds or some shit. It'd just put everything out of sync. He yawned again and went to sleep on the uncomfortable bed.
Ryan opened his eyes, ready to stretch out his limbs. The bed barely fitted him, didn't they know people were growing taller and taller every year? Duh. Upon looking at a pair of brown eyes staring at him, Ryan almost wanted to shriek, but realized that duh, it was probably his roommate. He'd done this enough times to his brothers, it was elementary. If the dude was sleeping on top of him or something, then that would be a major problem and a pretty good prank to pull, of course you wouldn't be fully clothed. But anyway, he was still staring at that pair of eyes.
"You have long lashes."
Thanks?
"You have more lashes on your right eye than your left," the kid said again.
Really, thanks? Ryan was ready to punch the motherfucker out, fuck the consequences, then realized, took a double take, and laughed. The kid was baked. He wasn't going to share that part of himself until at least next week of school. He still had to get a feel of this place and possibly find a dealer. That was why he didn't want to move away from home. That Josh kid always hooked him up with the best shit. Being the best customer and friend of course.
"Jeah, I'm Ryan," he said, still lying on his bed and staring back at the kid.
The kid nodded. "I'm Barry but no one calls me that. They always called me Z back home."
"Cool, Z. Nice to meet ya," he grinned. He didn't know where Z came from and really that didn't matter 'cause he knew maybe college wasn't so shitty after all.
Threesome, 3, 6, and 9 (Alexander Skarsgard, Dirk Nowitzki & Steve Nash, @________@)
New York, New York. The bright lights and the big apples, or there was one apple. Was there ever an actual apple? Didn't matter as Dirk sat on the bed, cross-legged in usual meditation position. He was watching his boyfriend kissing another man. In other world, the man wouldn't even get close enough to Steve. But this was different. They agreed on this. He watched excitedly as Alex growled, thrusting hard into Steve. The way he gripped onto Steve's wrists, pinning the man down onto the bed.
It was different but the same. Alex was built so similar to himself, despite the height differences. The man was pale, with lanky arms and legs, hair similarly coloured. God he was even more turned on as his thoughts drifted to pretend that Alex was actually him and he was watching himself fuck Steve. It was like live action porn. He wondered what it would be like to fuck Alex. How would Steve react? He wished they were at home and he had that ceiling mirror. Fuck, he thought as he willed his hands to stay put, even if they were itching to touch something, himself, Steve, Alex, anything else other than the rough of the cotton sheets.
Hurt/Comfort, 5 and 10 (Markus Naslund & Huston Street, i don't even)
Markus hesitantly reached out, debating if he should even bother with this. The kid was clutching someone in his hand, sitting down on the ground and just openly weeping. He looked around, trying to see anyone else could help. Despite his experience with being the captain, crying was one of his weakness. Oh he knew men do cry, but rarely did hockey players do so, especially so openly.
"Kid, kid, you all right?" Markus asked, crouching in front of the kid.
The kid nodded, but still sobbing hard and holding even more tightly to whatever he was holding, to the point where his knuckles were pale white.
Suddenly, the kid burst out crying even harder. Markus was sure he didn't do or say anything wrong. What the fuck was wrong with the kid? "Um," he tried, unsure what to say considering the kid was a sobbing mess. "Hey, it's going to be all right. What's your name?"
The kid shook his head. He opened and closed his mouth a few times and finally said, "Huston".
Houston? Like the city? Houston? Markus sighed and shuffled over to sit next to his "Houston" kid instead. "It's going to be okay. Whatever it is, it'll turn out fine," he said quietly. The kid responded by leaning his head over and deciding that Markus was going to be his pillow. Markus held in a cringe as he felt his shirt getting wet from the tears. Whatever it was, it must have been bad. He soothed the kid, singing softly in Swedish he learnt from his mother. It had been used on him enough times when Forsberg decided he was going to be the punching bag or guinea pig. He continued to sing as the crying turned into quiet sobs. He never found out what it was as he let the kid fall asleep next to him, still clutching to his necklace. By the time he woke up, the kid was gone.
Crack, 1 (Ryan Lochte)
Ryan sighed dejectedly when his father sent him back to his room. He looked longingly at thingamabobs lined up neatly in a row above the rocks and glanced lower of the boxes of gizmos he collected over the years. He sighed again, kicking his tail out, floating horizontally, and imagining what it'd be like if he had two legs and feet instead of a tail.
When's it my turn?
Wouldn't I love?
Love to explore that shore up above?
Out of the sea
Wish I could be
Part of that world
He twirled his hair and frowned, wanting to swipe his collection of human gadgets away. He could no longer stand staring at them anymore. His father would never understand.
He flipped his fin, pushing his way all the way up above the water. He snuck behind a giant boulder and peeked to the side of it. That was when he saw this man. The man came back again! While this man looked different, when he sat on the dry rocks and smiled, all of Ryan's worries would melt away. That was how powerful the smile was. Ryan would give anything, anything for a chance to walk on the sands and meet this man, who brightened Ryan's days.
"You're going to get caught!" Spidy opened and closed his claws in disapproval. "Your father made it very clear that you were to cease with your human fascination!"
"Shush," Ryan whispered. "He's going to hear you!"
[it'd be even funnier if Phelps was the mermaid]
*
Ryan took another step back from the Beast. He would not stay here. He was no prisoner; all he did was save his father from the Beast. The image of said Beast flashed through his mind again. His jaw was long, his eyes beady and his ears! His ears were strangely large. Also his feet, they were abnormally large, much like his ears. Even his height was... tall. Someone gave him the wrong name. He should be the Giant, and well, the Beast too.
He followed the Beast until they reached a room that was going to be his. At least he would not be staying up in the tower. Was he not a prisoner?
No, he would not go to dinner and dine with that thing, he thought as he examined the room. He flopped onto the bed; the bed was comfy and soft, but it was no match for his own even if its size was much smaller and less soft.
"There, there. You'll be fine."
He picked his head up. Where did the noise come from? Surely there was no one in here. Is that... is that the wardrobe moving and staring down at him? He definitely wasn't smoking anything before trying to rescue his father from this castle.
"You will need something to wear! We have plenty of suits and breeches for dinner."
"No," Ryan replied, sounding angry. "I will not go to dinner."
[that is where i'll stop for now. hahahaha phelps is the beast]
(lol, lack of maternal guidance, these two movies)
IS IT WRONG THAT I WANT TO WRITE EITHER TWO TO FULL LENGTHS?
Horror, 10 (Huston Street)
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE IS NO GOD," Huston screamed on top of his lungs, clutching the cross pendant given to him by his grandmother. She had given it to him after the first Christening. While he had replaced the necklace over the years to a longer length or newer condition, the pendant remained the same. If he was in a movie, there'd be sound effects playing to convey what he felt right now.
Baby Fic, 5 and 9 (Markus Naslund & Steve Nash)
Steve often wondered what it would be like to have four arms instead of two. He tried holding the twins in both of his hands, but he didn't want to risk it, even if he was a professional basketball player, getting paid to handle the ball on a daily bases. But this was different, they were balls, they were his baby daughters. So now he was holding Lola in his arms, and watching Bella giggling in her crib.
"You need a hand with that?"
Steve could barely tear his eyes away from his daughter to see who the newcomer was. Of course, Markus was supposed to be here. They were to play floor hockey or something.
Instead, Steve gently handed Lola to Markus then picked up Bella from the cribs. When Lola heard her twin was giggling, she too started to kick and laugh loudly in Markus's arms.
Dark, 2 and 8 (Alex Rodriguez & Barry Zito)
Alex waved his hand in front of his eyes, hoping and, praying that something would register. Nothing. His eyesight was gone. No. This could not be. He'd never see himself in the mirror again. He'd never fix his hair, or get new clothes from New York high-end boutiques. No, this was not happening to him. "Hello?" He called out. Now that he lost his vision, he needed someone to show him where everything was and pretty much act as his pair of eyes. "Hello? Is anyone there?" He asked again. The sky darkened out of the blue, no warning what so ever. It was eerie how silent it was, when before - when he still had his vision - he could barely find a moment of silence to think with the busy streets and cars outside. He ran to the windows to look outside, but by the time he did, his knees gave out and he slumped to the ground. When he awoken, he already lost his vision. How?
He'd never play baseball again. No one would allow a blind man anywhere near the field. He couldn't even get out of this damn room.
"Yeah?"
Alex's head darted left and right, trying to figure out where the sound came from. Someone was around! "I'm over here!"
"I'm coming, I'm coming," the voice said again. Alex slowly pushed himself off the floor. He cringed when he heard a crunch, as his foot most likely stepped on broken glass.
"Dude, no fucking way."
Alex turned to the man, assuming he was facing the right position. He stuck his hands out, trying to get a feel of his surrounding or something to lean against. "Who's out there?"
"Alex Rodriguez? Is that you?"
Alex felt a presence in front of him and scowled. "Yes, that's me. Who is this?"
"Fucking amazing. Dude, oh right, name. I'm Barry Zito, duh. You don't recognize me?"
"I'm blind, if you can see. I'm assuming you can see considering you made your way over here."
"Yeah, yeah, hold your horses. Of all the people alive, I get Alex Rodriguez. Or a blind Alex Rodriguez. Fucking whoop."
Alex took a small step forward; he had no idea how far away Zito was from him. "What do you mean, of all the people alive?" Luckily, his hand found the pitcher's arm and gripped it tightly. He was never going let go, Barry fucking Zito or not.
"Oh right, duh. You're blind. No idea what happened, but there's only me and you left I guess. Everyone else just... disappeared."
"Fuck," Alex muttered under his breath. "I can't believe I'm the saner one out of the two remaining survivors."
"Hey, I'm not deaf, blind man."
[something else happens, maybe they get eaten by gargoyles, who knows]
*
ARAH: *waves hand* NUUUUUUUUU. JEEEEEEEET??? JEEEEEEEET?
*silence*
ARAH: I CAN'T SEEEEEEEEEEEE. WHAT ABOUT MAH HAIR. MAH CLOTHES. MY LUSHOUS LIPS I RATHER KILL MAHSELF BE BE AH-LIVE!11
ARAH: WHOSE TAT.
ZEETO: YO.
ARAH: YOU SENT ME A STONER?! JEEEEEEEEEEEEEET?!?!?!
Zeeto: DUDE.
Romance, 4 and 7 (Roy Halladay & Roberto Luongo)
Halladay smiled easily as the flash went off, almost blinding him in the process. He blinked a few times to get the white light out of his vision.
"Thank you!!" The young woman said, blushing and giggling as she took the camera from the waiter and viewed the picture. "Thank you!"
Halladay nodded, smiling despite his annoyance over someone's tardiness.
"Sorry, I'm late. Traffic, snow, you know, it makes the city stop when it snows," Luongo said, brushing the thin layer of snow off his coat. "Have you ordered yet?"
Halladay shook his head. "I was waiting for you," he replied, pushing forward the other menu towards Luongo's direction.
The goalie relaxed into his seat and smiled at the pitcher. "Let's order then, you must be starving. I heard that the ribs here are excellent," he said, trailing off to some other topic.
Halladay bobbed his head along to Luongo's musings. He tried to listen, but he was so focused on the other man's long dark hair and the way it curled at the bottom. He watched as the snow melted from the top of the head, and the water droplets slid down the strands like slides. He wondered what it'd be like to be that water - would it be like going down the water slides, with a big splash in the end?
"What are you staring at?" Luongo said, moving his head so Halladay watched the water droplets flying everywhere. They must be sad that they were no longer a part of Roberto.
He shook his head again, "Nothing. What were we talking about?"
Death Fic, 2 and 3 (Alex Rodriguez & Alexander Skarsgard)
Rodriguez bit on his puffy lips if keep himself from crying anymore. He told himself to be strong, to not give in. He couldn't believe he was never to kiss the man again, never put his hands through the man's soft buzz-cut hair. Never to look into his green eyes that so similiarly mirrored his.
"Shh, let it out," Skarsgard murmured, kissing Rodriguez's eyelids.
Ever since he had heard the news, Rodriguez was in denial. He didn't want to believe it when he saw the plane broken into pieces, parts scattered all of the Atlantic ocean. That bitch, she was the one who wanted to get Derek away from the media and the partying and took him to Australia. Their pictures still managed to find their way onto the cover of the New York Post.
He found Skarsgard at this celebrity bar. He came with this blonde chick, he didn't even bother to care where she went when they left the bar. No he wouldn't dare to pick anyone up at Jay-Z's. He had learnt his lessons there.
HAhAH NEVER AGAIN. My favourites are the ones with Ryan Lochte. And that one with Huston.