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POP IT DON'T DROP IT [grossover]

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Вы здесь » POP IT DON'T DROP IT [grossover] » фандомное » eating


eating

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1

https://i.imgur.com/SJXrgZw.png


Eat ting, eating a grand old man said roof and never never re soluble burst, not a near ring not a bewildered neck, not really any such bay.
Is it so a noise to be is it a least remain to rest, is it a so old say to be, is it a leading are been. Is it so, is it so, is it so, is it so is it so is it so.

[icon]http://forumuploads.ru/uploads/0019/e7/78/1513/t701589.png[/icon][lz]This is today. A can experiment is that which makes a town, makes a town dirty, it is little please. We came back. Two bore, bore what, a mussed ash, ash when there is tin. This meant cake. It was a sign.[/lz][status]they were growing too tall[/status][nick]P.B.[/nick]

Отредактировано Princess Bubblegum (2020-10-09 23:05:55)

+9

2

And Jake said, “I love you, Bonnibel,” and then Marceline said, “Yeah, me too, Bonnibel,” and then they took care of those snacks, and then Bonnie said, “Come on, we have a king to kill,” and then Marceline said, “OK,” and then they split up, and Marceline went with Bonnie, and Bonnie went with Marceline, and then they were in the tent, and everything was silent, and silence seemed unnerving, and the Vampire King still wandered somewhere in the woods, and Marceline said, “So.”

“So, how do you like my new haircut?”

Something needed to be said, and this surely was something but not the right something that you'd expect. A different kind of something; perhaps an otherthing, or a wrongthing, or.

“Didn't really have a chance to ask you earlier.”

A wrongthing, definitely. She wanted to be all like, “Hey-y, Peebles, you know, I don't really think we should finish this vampire killing biz just yet. Let's give it a rest and have some time for ourselves, just like the old times. I'm sure we all understand what the stakes are.” Then she'd stop and smiled and said, “Get it? Stakes?”

On second thought, the stake joke was dumb, and Bonnie looked way too determined to chill, and Marceline didn't want to sound ungrateful 'cause that was her wish from the very beginning, right? Not the haircut. The mortality. The vampire killing biz.

She floated by, taking a sip from Bonnie's cup just to piss her off. That didn't piss her off.

There was always something between the old times and now.

Another wrongthing maybe.
[icon]https://i.imgur.com/JntLKQC.png[/icon][status]you used to call them weeds[/status][lz]A separation is not tightly in worsted and sauce, it is so kept well and sectionally. Put it in the stew, put it to shame. A little slight shadow and a solid fine furnace. The teasing is tender and trying and thoughtful.[/lz]

Отредактировано Marceline (2020-10-09 21:40:14)

+7

3

The gun was exactly the way it should be, cool and heavy and natural just like a guitar perhaps, but the gun was not the point. The gun was an atavism, the gum was humankind's Philosopher's stone and Marceline obviously was neither. Bonnie said, "I'll be the one who puts you in the ground," with her softest voice but first of all, she lied 'cause it'll probably be Peppermint and she'll only kiss her goodbye, and secondly she never meant, "I'm gonna put you in the ground in a couple of days". More like, "Many years later and I don't wanna take any guesses about the numbers". That's why the gun was needed.

So, she said, "Come on, we have a king to kill," and told Finn and Jake to have some more fun with Moon's Pearls while she and Marceline go for a little hunt, you know, just to check how things are in the woods; things were rainy, the pine smelled almost primal like woods one thousand years ago where humans' scent was fresh yet fleeting. Was Marcy fresh again?

They tented up. The silence seemed calming and right.

Bonnie sipped some apple cinammon tea (a bagged one) and was happy to share, in fact she knew something like that will happen so she made the tea quite neutral, almost sugar-free. She liked feeding Marceline just the way she enjoyed to eat: she brought her many lipsticks before, she brings her snacks now, but this time was different. Bonnie looked at the sugar cubes. Bonnie remembered people die of diabetes.

It felt wrong.

"Looks nice. Lighter, I think. Gives you more freedom, huh?"

She looked at the way Marcy's hair barely touched her shoulders, she looked at her troubled face, her neck without any bites, her differently sad eyes and tried to forget about her last dream. Not about "nice and pink" part, though it's not the right time for such matters.

Sigh.

"Don't wanna be a pain in the ass but you won't have any freedom if we, well, won't kill that dude. And that's kinda... your thing? I mean I can come up with some kind of plan if you want me to, I'm here to help, but you were quite enthusiastic about doing it earlier, and now you're... not."

The gun was needed.

"What do we do next, Marceline?"

[icon]http://forumuploads.ru/uploads/0019/e7/78/1513/t701589.png[/icon][lz]This is today. A can experiment is that which makes a town, makes a town dirty, it is little please. We came back. Two bore, bore what, a mussed ash, ash when there is tin. This meant cake. It was a sign.[/lz][status]they were growing too tall[/status][nick]P.B.[/nick]

Отредактировано Princess Bubblegum (2020-10-10 16:01:27)

+6

4

The haircut didn't give her freedom. The only thing it gave was the feeling of emptiness where it shouldn't have been. No metaphors, though, just straight-up hairstylist talk. Girl stuff.

“Well, we kill the guy. You said it yourself.”

There was a chance Bonnie knew her well enough to realize that this laid back voice actually meant “I care” instead of “I couldn't care less”. But chances are chances, right?

She finished the tea. When did she have time to finish the tea?

“By the way, I'm full of enthusiasm. And sugar. Mostly sugar but you know, I'm actively digesting it right now. I'm in the process of digesting. Real focused.”

Uh-h. OK, now she's definitely overdone it.

Marceline sighed and floated closer, arms crossed, head down.

“Sorry; it's just... Last time we met it was him who found me, not the other way around. I'm feeling a bit rusty — rustier than whatever hundred years ago, at the very least. What if it doesn't work the second time?”

What if we don't work.

She remembered her last dream — the only one she couldn't call a nightmare with complete certainty, the one Bonnie was in, the long and crippling one. “I wonder,” she thought then. “I wonder where you'll be ten years after I'm dead.” A hundred years, a thousand.

Nowhere near, that's for sure.
[icon]https://i.imgur.com/JntLKQC.png[/icon][status]you used to call them weeds[/status][lz]A separation is not tightly in worsted and sauce, it is so kept well and sectionally. Put it in the stew, put it to shame. A little slight shadow and a solid fine furnace. The teasing is tender and trying and thoughtful.[/lz]

Отредактировано Marceline (2020-10-11 18:08:12)

+6

5

Killing is simple.

Killing is simple like cutting off newborn candies' legs with rusty scissors, like making candies just to cut off legs, like being a rainy day that suddenly becomes all sunny not caring about the vampire who didn't take an umbrella with her because she only wanted to see at least some kind of daylight. Maybe the vampire wouldn't mind.

It's funny. How many did she kill? How many Marcy did. Was she supposed to?

It comes in circles; Finn steps on ants and swallows little flies at night, Marceline puts stakes in little shriveled hearts of those who stalked her kind, then they're her kind too, then Finn steps on ants and swallows little flies.

"Oh I'm... glad you're having fun digesting. I heard people love doing that?"

It wasn't ironic even.

Marceline sighed and floated closer and Bonnie saw there was no freedom in her haircut but goose bumps on her shoulders; maybe it was too cold considering she wore a crop top, maybe she just didn't get used to feeling so alive. Maybe that's how mortals experience their fear. She crossed her arms. Bonnie put her hand on her shoulder.

"I know how scary it may be but isn't it all about not doing it like the last time? You've been through so many things Marcy, heavy things, like, uh-h, real heavy stuff. And I think- no, I know you've learned enough to do whatever you feel like doing now. If you feel like you should slay that blood-sucking psycho you certainly will. And I'll be with you. And then we'll have a nice sleepover- no, a party! You can have parties now. And you can digest some good digesting material. Okay?"

She stroked her cheek just like before, when it's all started, and made a tsk-tsk with her other hand.

Being optimistic is important when your friend decides to refuse her immortality. Isitsuicidal?

It started to rain. The tent sagged just a bit, then

[indent] there was a scream outside, a deep and low one, more of a cry perhaps; Bonnie  flinched and turned her head towards it, her face changed.

"Oh Glob, how many evil dudes can gather at one globdamn forest?", she fairly hissed and took her gun.

"Wait a sec Marcy, brb."

She didn't hear the answer. Her heart, or something heart-like inside her gum got goose bumps too; there was a danger in the woods and it was safer for Marcy to stay inside, to stay at home, to live her quiet little life Glob she's got so little left how can she wait for her to pass how can she act like that all those future years

She didn't have to run for long. Big trees aside she saw a tall tough man of lion-like appearance and froze. It was him, the King, it couldn't be anyone else; she didn't know what to do: she hated him, she was afraid of him, she wanted to punish him for everything he did to Marceline, she wanted to thank him for it too and maybe ask to do it again.

So she stood still.

She clutched her gun.

The King digged four holes in the ground; he holded a silly hat, a diamond, a tasteless coat and a pearl in his hands.

He looked dumb.

He cried again, he looked grieving.

He had no tears.

[icon]http://forumuploads.ru/uploads/0019/e7/78/1513/t701589.png[/icon][lz]This is today. A can experiment is that which makes a town, makes a town dirty, it is little please. We came back. Two bore, bore what, a mussed ash, ash when there is tin. This meant cake. It was a sign.[/lz][status]they were growing too tall[/status][nick]P.B.[/nick]

Отредактировано Princess Bubblegum (2020-10-15 21:13:54)

+3

6

Brb my butt, princess.

What's that even, was she supposed to stay inside like a good girl and let Bonnie do all the work? Have all the fun. Pfft yeah right.

Marceline hesitated, of course, but just for a moment. Enough for Bonnie to jump out of the tent. Not enough for her to find the King all by herself. Like, come on, everyone knows you're a tough cookie, PB, there's no reason to get all bizonkers.

The forest grew cold, deep and unforgiving. At least, unlike Bonnie, Marceline could fly. Walking wasn't among the things she missed since her mortal life had ended. What were those things, by the way?.. Glob.

“Hey!”

There he was, the Jerk King, all depressed and upset and grieving and pathetic. To Nightosphere with this guy, Marceline wasn't in the mood for long speeches about the extinction of his kind or whatever. These poo brains saw it coming.

“Hey, you... dumb-hole. Let's get it over with.”

The King didn't answer. She had the stakes with her, she had the courage, the stubbornness, the globdamn determination, and this ding dong just had to stand here, with his back to her, in grief, ruining everything. On no. No no no no no no no.

Marceline rushed forward, invisible and ready to strike, but you know how these things usually go. The Vampire King turns around at just the wrong moment, the not-so-vampire girl smashes into a tree. Typical.

Bonnie, she thought before passing out, would've taken this as a nice little lesson: invisible ≠ invincible.

“Oh,” the King said. “I'm sorry.”

Marceline didn't catch that.

* * *

The light loomed over her, and then something rustled in the background, and someone touched her shoulder, and she wanted to say, “Good morning, Simon,” but for some reason decided not to.

It smelled sugary.

They were in the cabin, there was a blanket, and Bonnie was there too.

“What... what happened?” she asked hesitantly. The head still kinda hurt. “Is he dead?”

For his own good, he better be.
[status]you used to call them weeds[/status][icon]https://i.imgur.com/JntLKQC.png[/icon][lz]A separation is not tightly in worsted and sauce, it is so kept well and sectionally. Put it in the stew, put it to shame. A little slight shadow and a solid fine furnace. The teasing is tender and trying and thoughtful.[/lz]

Отредактировано Marceline (2020-10-21 23:41:09)

+3


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