Angry Johnny.

20May08

(prompt: the song Angry Johnny by Poe [lyrics] )
Johnny, angry Johnny, this is Jezebel in Hell
I wanna kill you, I wanna blow you… away
Molotov is like a coin flip in slow motion, unable to decide whether or not she wants to kill Brock, and he is the same, because he cannot decide whether or not [...]

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Snap.

31Mar08

Brock has found that, unless they have broken someone else’s bones, most people do not know what the sound of a breaking bone is. After all, people who have had their bones broken are in too much pain to hear it.

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Pets.

23Mar08

It wasn’t that Brock disliked animals. Really, it wasn’t. Actually, he was a bit of pet person, if he said so himself.

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6 Song Drabbles, written in 10 minutes or less each.

19Mar08

001. Hands | Jewel (started at 19.43, finished at 19.52)
While it was not exactly an uncommon occurrence, it still upset Brock when Dean cried (so he was upset a lot). However, he was more puzzled than upset when he walked into the kitchen on a Tuesday morning at noon, where Dean sat sniffling at the [...]

Filed under: Brock, Brock/Molotov, Dean, Deathmance, Hank, Molotov, Pirate Captain, Venture Bros   |  1 Comment

Engaged.

19Mar08

The ring wasn’t even on Molotov’s finger before Brock realised what he had just done. When she threw her arms around his neck, thoughts started racing through his head.

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Obsession.

19Mar08

From the outside, you’d never guess. She’s just a woman with an eyepatch, he’s just a guy with huge muscles. They’re on opposite sides of the world. You’d never know that they were so connected, that he had kept her eye, that she held his heart in her hands.

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Moving.

19Mar08

Brock was relatively sure he was gaping. His mouth was wide open and he could not stop staring. Vaguely aware that maybe he should stop, Brock looked around. Movers and a moving truck. Sofa being carried in the front door. Woman giving directions to the men carrying boxes and furniture.
Okay, so where there hell was [...]

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Making Do.

19Mar08

Brock would give anything to change this.

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Take-out.

19Mar08

Brock heard her coming three streets away.

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Tetris.

19Mar08

It is ten-thirty in the morning. Molotov is in a dead sleep in the middle of the bed, having wandered in in an exhausted haze at four AM. Too tired for even a cursory hello after having been on a mission for nine days, she had passed out without undressing. Brock simply rolled over and [...]

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