Search found 31 matches for 2

Something Spicy

Thorn breathed deep as Lyla pulled away from her, closed her eyes and just let it go. She had been here before. Not this exact situation, but similar ones. Enough to know that look in her companion’s eyes, and hazard a guess on where this was going.

A brawl was coming her way.

That hadn't been the plan when things started out tonight. All her thoughts had been focused on Lyla, on getting to know and having some private time, wanting to keep going down the path they’d started in the arena. She was all about a good fight, and she’d been aching for one - Japan was nice, but the bars tended to be a little clean for that sort of fun, not like the rougher dives back home. That was fine. She could play nice. To a point.

As she sat there, she had the sense that this specific point was being reached. She looked on, watching as Lyla spoke, trying to make out the conversation with her furrowed brow. She wasn’t a master lipreader, but could make out some familiar words - ‘needledick’ stuck out to her - and the look on their faces told enough of the story. Credit where credit’s due, Lyla was playing them like puppets on a string. The look. The little touches. That smile. All that, coming from a body like hers, made for a potent combination. She almost couldn’t blame the dumbasses when it worked.

”Fucking evil.” She muttered under her breath, already standing up as the three blind mice came her way, oozing with machismo, pumped up, reeking of Axe body spray. She rolled her neck about, getting nice and limber, barely looking their way as they pulled up. She knew how this went, no reason to rush into it.

‘Hyperdyke’. That one was new, got a smirk out of her. She didn’t respond to his request, though, even as his buddy’s got in line and started working their way around her. For all their talk, they seemed fairly aware of her being two inches taller than the tallest of them.

Instead, she took the time to finish off her glass, wanting to get in the last few drops and ride out the fight with a full buzz. Thorn brought the glass to her lips and tipped back, taking her time, savoring it.

Some men, though. So impatient. ”The fuck?” Loverboy reached up for her drink, just as she was coming to the last few drops. ”I ain’t playing with you, so just-”

The instant he touched her glasses, Thorn’s other hand shot up like a steeltrap, snatching his finger out of midair and twisting it back in her grip. He let out a scream, a shrill one in a pitch that was far too high for a man his size, and fell to his knees as she twisted his digit in her grasp. He apparently hadn’t learned his lesson a few minutes ago, but that was okay. She was a good learner.

”What’d I say about the finger, shithead?”

The right side of his face was introduced to her glass an instant later, dropping him to the floor and buying her a little time to deal with the other two. The bar was exploding into action all of the sudden, people shouting and pushing and yelling and trying to get a handle on what was going on, but Thorn pushed it all out of her mind to focus on the immediate problems.

Problem #1 was the guy in front of her. Tall, black, looked like he worked out, didn’t have Loverboy’s height, but no stranger to the gym. He was moving on her fast, only taking half a second to check on his wallowing friend before he headed her way.

Problem #2 was the guy who’d been working his way behind her. He was the skinnier sort, a lanky looking asian guy, could’ve been native. Whatever the case, she could’ve laid him out easy, and going off his plan of attack, he seemed to know that. He leaped on her back and attempted a chokehold or...something. It was honestly a little hard to tell what he was going for, one arm around her neck and the other on her face. It was more annoying than anything, but it did buy them time for the guy in front to move in and get a good shot at her stomach, drilling her in the ribs with a sloppy uppercut. It wasn’t enough to knock her over, but a few more might do the trick.

Patrice Juillet vs Ivy Emerson - Sleepy Student vs Wrestling Scholar

Ivy suddenly stopped short just a few feet from the arena entrance; the sound of rowdy crowds echoing through the hallway She did not stop because Patrice had sworn at her once again but because the sleeping beauty had stirred from her slumber.

Happy to have one last conversation before their official lesson began Ivy knelt by Patrice and rolled up the pillowcase enough for her to breath and talk clearly. "What was that Patrice? I couldn't quite make that out?" She could. 

With the wave of her hand, she dismissed whatever Patrice had said. "Whatever, I have good news! I'm gonna give you another choice! Aren't they fun? Okay so choice #1: I can untie you and we can walk down that ramp together as the buddies I know we are!" Patrice could not see but Ivy was glowing at the thought of this. "Choice #2: continue to have an unproductive attitude and I let you roll down the ramp on this bed! I've seen it before and it's pretty steep... So which will it be!?"

News Series of shorts

Hi all! So I posted two stories so far in my Storybook F.C. series (I wrote these both today, woo me ^_^) and I wanted your thoughts. I hope you're liking them!

First off! I have several ideas on more. So I'll make a poll to see which I should do first!

Also! I'm having a little fun with the secret character if you read #2. Do you know who it is? Post your best guess in a spoiler so every body doesn't go, "oh thats a good one, I'll say that person too!" and such.

Tension Rookie Tournament: Harper Williams vs Drake Fond

And down came Contestant #2...

Harper had just been finishing up the last bit of her shoulder stretches when she noticed the stage darkening a tad. She stood to attention, wriggling her fingers a bit and bouncing from foot to foot, taking a couple quick glances left and right as if she were looking for something before centering her gaze back towards the entrance. This whole thing was still a little new to her. She was excited, she was amped, and it was becoming a little hard to control it all. It was getting even harder to do that when she was so close to getting the answer to the biggest question she’d had all night: who her opponent was.

Aside from the fact that he was going to be a man, Harper didn’t know much of anything about who she was going up against. She wasn’t exactly the top of her field when it came to doing research. Any research. The only thing she went on was the fight card, and that was it. The person walking down that ramp could be six-foot tall and made of muscle, or barely over knee height and built like a string bean for all she knew.

As the music and drums got rolling, she was able to catch a flash of red from the entrance. Only a few seconds later, he finally came into full view. For a couple seconds, Harper could only keep her eyes forward, raising an eyebrow and growing a funny little half smile with a crook of her lip as the man in red descended the ramp.

Different. That was the first word that came to her mind. He walked with a dark air about him, slow and sure strides, dressed in an outfit that reminded her of the villains on the Saturday morning cartoons she used to watch. He was a funny looking fella, but Harper knew better than to criticize her company by the cut of their jib. She bet she must have looked pretty funny to people around these parts too.

Either way, there was no reason to try and get on his bad side. As he stepped through the ropes, Harper met him with the same attitude she met everyone she’d ever touched knuckles with. A big goofy grin on her face, a spring in her step. “Howdy!” She exclaimed before Drake could get a word in, raising a welcoming hand high into the air as he approached. She took a quick glance up and down his body, trying to get a glimpse at what she was dealing with. He was only slightly taller than her, but well put together. And that cold look in his eyes...er, eye...ruffled her feathers a bit.

But Harper didn’t budge. The seconds before a fight were always the most exciting, and tonight was no different. She kept her smile strong, placing her hands firmly against her hips at the question raised to her. “Heavens to Betsy if ya did! We ain’t got much Wi-Fi out in Cave Creek!” She chuckled and took a step forward. She curled her right hand into a fist, playfully brushing his shoulder as she kept on hand on her hip. “But don’t mean you should take me lightly there, Red! I’ve been throwing haymakers since I was knee-high to a grasshopper!” Her smile dampened somewhat as she coked her head to the side, looking up at him and tapping a finger underneath her right eye. “But uh, I see you ain’t no stranger to the fuss either. Y’all all right and proper with that there eye? I ain't come this far to fight a straggler with their hands tied behind their back.”

Out And About

For the most part, Felina was doing a decent job of withstanding Edgar’s verbal jabs. Oh, he was annoying, had a way of cutting right into her, but she’d grown up with two older brothers and Army, who was as close to being a brother as a cousin could ever be. That gave her some patience to work with, and she needed it as Edgar continued to rub in his win. And other things.

”Wow, do you like to talk.” She looked on and shook her head as Edgar chose his wardrobe with the same care and skill as a blind man. ”Look, Ed? You get to talk crap about ‘my crew’ when you get a belt. Or a medal. Or...oh, wait, what was your record again?” She snapped her fingers. ”Right, right, you don’t really have one, do you? Come back in a year, maybe two, then see how you’re looking.”

Growing a little tired of just sitting there while he lambasted her, Felina hopped off the chair and started to idly make her way around the room, taking a miniature tour of the place while he continued to throw barbs her way. She’d just opened up a book she found laying around - Tales of Adventure #2 -when something he said really sank in and forced her to straighten up, her eyebrows dancing about as she processed it.

”Suckerpunch? When did I…” Her mind processed the match over, rewound it, which was something she’d done countless times over the past few weeks. This time, though, she tried to lock in on what he was talking about. She’d only really hit him twice, if she recalled correctly. That spinning heel kick to the face, so satisfying, and…

”Wait.” She held up her hands, cocked her head to the side, furrowed her brows. ”Are you seriously giving me crap for that punch at the start of the fight? After the bell rang? I pretended to do one move, only to do another - that’s a feint, cowlick, not a suckerpunch. It’s pretty common in, you know...all combat sport, ever. Where’d you learn to box, Tae Bo?”

She had to laugh now, shaking her head as she turned away from him and strolled back to the kitchen. ”Make it sound like a gave you a nutshot or something. Come on...” She threw her hands up and spun back around with her fists up. ”Were the gloves not enough of a hint that I might punch you? Should I have told you about it in advance, gave you a heads up?”

Elizabeth 'Riza' Hawkeye vs. Armando 'Army' Rodriguez - First Shot

Well, she’d made a nice try of things, but it was over now. Army was breathing a long sigh of relief as the referee started up the count, glad that they were putting this whole thing behind him. His only hope was that Carmen and/or Felina weren’t watching this, because he just knew they’d give him an earful when he got home over it. Maybe it would be best to just hang out at the gym for the night, stay there and-

...she kicked out. Again.

”Come on!” Army threw his hands with a exasperated howl, letting some of his frustration fly with it, before he stared down at Hawkeye. Glaring. Thinking. Processing. She was really going to keep pushing this, wasn’t she?

Fine. Fine. If he couldn’t get the pin, he’d go for option #2. ”Didn’t want to do this. Really didn’t. But…”

Army reached down once more and grabbed her arms, using it to haul her up. This time, he ducked down and draped her over his shoulders, putting her into the start of a move he suspected she’d remember all too well - the Torture Rack.

It worked once, it would work twice.

Chloe Mason vs Dmitri Markov Voronov - The Kick-Off

This wasn’t the worst pair of legs that Dmitri had ever had wrapped around his skull - no, those belonged to Alicia. But Chloe’s thighs were making a strong case for the #2 spot, and they were well on their way to cementing the nomination. They clamped down on his neck like silk hiding steel, so soft and welcoming yet so deadly and cruel.

It was becoming more and more clear, as the constriction grew tight enough to choke, that he was running out of options, here. He wasn’t in a good position to reach the ropes, lacked the energy to try, and his world was starting to grow dimmer by the second.

He fought. He tried to stay up. But the more he struggled, the more energy he wasted, and that was starting to take its toll.

Dmitri began to fade in Chloe’s grasp, flopping about like a fish out of water. His eyes began to dim as the darkness took hold, and if she didn’t relent, he would be going out soon...which wouldn’t mean too much, since that wouldn’t end the match. But he didn’t relish the thought of waking up in Chloe’s clutches.

Moving Fast

Sayumi's fingers dragged themselves along Cicilia's arms as she reluctantly pulled herself away. With a bright smile she returned back to work. For the most part she conducted most of her work in their room. Moving in her sewing machine, getting it set up on a small wheeled rolling table. Storing some supplies in an empty part of the closet. At one point she had to come back for Cicilia's help to move the dresser, packed with clothes it wasn't something she could do readily on her own. After that it was a matter of setting up the shelf and filling it. Within an hour and a half, Sayumi had finished all of her work for her little tailoring corner in their room.

She then took on the duty of stud finding around the apartment. With the small device she want room to room, finding each one and making a small pencil mark on the paint so they knew where to hang things later. Eventually the last room left for her to map out was the one Cicilia was in.... which was by design. She knew if she had started here it would have taken her forever. "How's the progress?" She chirped as she ran the small device along the wall, a small #2 pencil tucked behind her ear.

Canon characters and pics checker

#1 and #2 were the two I was really shooting for out of the bunch. I really don't want to pressure anyone to give up something, especially if it sees use. So it's 100% up to you Nelv. have a whole bunch of pics here I could use instead that don't appear to be taken.

Canon characters and pics checker

I don't have the character in #8 anymore so feel free to use the pic. Might consider giving #2 as well if you really want the pic.